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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


' 


HALLAM'S    WORKS. 

VOLUME    VI. 


INTRODUCTION 


LITERATURE     OF     EUROPE. 


VOLUMES   UL,  IV. 


.82JIO77'   ? 


INTRODUCTION 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


FIFTEENTH,  SIXTEENTH,  AND  SEVENTEENTH 
CENTUKIES. 


BY  HENRY  HALLAM,  LL.D.,  F.R.A.S., 

FOREIGN"  ASSOCIATE  OF  THE  INSTITUTE  OF  FKAXCE. 


De  modo  antem  hnjnsmodi  historise  conscribendae,  illnd  imprimis  monemus,  ut 
materia  et  copia  ejus,  non  tantum  ab  historiis  et  criticis  petatur,  verum  etiam  per 
singulas  annorum  centurias,  aat  etiam  minora  intervalla,  seriatim  libri  prsecipni,  qul 
eo  temporis  spatio  conscript!  sunt,  in  consilium  adhibeantur;  ut  ex  eorum  non  perlec- 
tione  (id  enim  inflnitum  quiddam  esset),  sed  degustatione,  et  obsen-atione  argument!, 
styli.  methodi,  genius  illius  temporis  literarius,  veluti  incantatione  quadam,  a  mortuis 
evocetur.  —  BACON,  de  Augm.  Scient. 


FOUE  VOLOIES  IN  TWO. 
VOLUMES  III.,  IV. 


NEW    YORK 

A.   C.   ARMSTRONG   AND  SON 

714  BROADWAY 
i860 


$ress  of 

KOCKWELL      AND      CHURCHILL, 

89  Arch  Street,  Boston. 


CONTENTS 


THE     THIED     VOLUME. 


PART  HE.  (CONTINUED). 


ON  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

CHAPTER  HI. 

HISTORY  OF  SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY  FROM  1600  TO   1650. 


Subjects  of  this  Chapter  . 
Aristotelians  and  Ramists  . 
No  Improvement  till  near 
End  of  the  Century  .  . 
Methods  of  the  Universities 


the 


Page 

.  11 
12 

13 
13 

Scholastic  Writers 14 

Treatises  on  Logic 15 

Campanella 16 

His  Theorv  taken  from  Telesio  .  16 

Notion  of  Universal  Sensibility  .  17 

His  Imagination  and  Eloquence .  18 

His  Works  published  by  Adami  20 

Basson 21 

Berigard 21 

Magnen 21 

Paracelsists 22 

And  Theosophists 22 

Fludd 22 

Jacob  Behmen 23 

Lord  Herbert,  De  Veritate      .    .  24 

Hi*  Axioms 25 

Conditions  of  Truth 25 

Instinctive  Truths 26 

Internal  Perceptions 27 

Five  Notions  of  Natural  Religion  28 

liYmarks  of  Gassendi  on  Herbert  28 

(Jar-M-ndi'.*  Defence  of  Epicurus  .  30 

His  chief  Works  after  1650     .     .  31 
Preparation   for  the   Philosophy 

of  Lord  Bacon 31 

His  Plan  of  Philosophy.    ...  32 


Tune  of  its  Conception  ....  32 

Instauratio  Magna 3-i 

First    Part:  Partitiones    Scien- 

tiarum 34 

Second  Part :  Novum  Organum .  34 
Third  Part:  Natural  History.    .  35 
Fourth  Part :  Scala  Intellects    .  36 
Fifth  Part:  Anticipationes  Phi- 
losophise     37 

Sixth  Part :  Philosophia  Secunda  37 
Course  of  studying  Lord  Bacon  .  38 
Nature  of  the  Baconian  Induc- 
tion    39 

His  Dislike  of  Aristotle.     ...  42 

His  Method  much  required     .    .  42 

Its  Objects 43 

Sketch  of  the  Treatise  De  Aug- 

mentis 43 

History 43 

Poetry 44 

Fine  Passage  on  Poetry     ...  44 
Natural    Theology    and    Meta- 
physics       44 

Form  of  Bodies 45 

Might    sometimes    be    inquired 

into 45 

Final  Causes  too  much  slighted  .  46 
Man  not   included    by  him    in 

Physics 47 

Man,  hi  Body  and  Mind    ...  47 

Logic 47 


559213 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  HI. 


58 


Page 

Extent  given  it  by  Bacon  ...    48 
jraminar  and  Rhetoric ....    48 

Ethics 48 

Politics 49 

Theology ^.     .     60 

Desiderata  enumerated  by  him  .    50 
No vum  Organ  ura:  First  Book    . 

Fallacies:    Idola 

d  in  founded  with  Idols  .    .    .    • 
Second  Book  of  Novum  Orga- 

iiinn 

Confidence  of  Bacon 64 

Almost  justified  oflate  .     ...     65 
But    should    be    kept    witliin 

bounds 56 

Limits   to    our   Knowledge    by 

Sense 56 

Inductive   Logic;  whether  con- 
fined to  Physics 57 

Baconian    Philosophy  built    on 

Observation  and  Experiment  .  58 
Advantages  of  the  Latter  ...  69 
Sometimes  applicable  to  Philo- 
sophy of  Human  Mind  ...  60 
Less  so  to  Politics  and  Morals  .  60 
Induction  less  conclusive  in 

these  Subjects 61 

Reasons  for  this  Difference     .     .     61 
Considerations  on  the  other  Side     63 

1  Jesuit  of  the  Whole 64 

Bacon's     Aptitude     for    Moral 

Subjects 65 

Comparison  of  Bacon  and  Ga- 
lileo      

His    Prejudice    against    Mathe- 
matics   

Bacon's  Excess  of  Wit  .... 
Fame  of  Bacon  on  the  Continent 
Karlv  Life  of  Descartes  .    .    . 
His  Beginning  to  philosophize 
He  retires  to  Holland     .    .    . 

His  Publications 

He  begins  by  doubting  all.  . 
His  lirst  Step  in  Knowledge  . 
His  Mind  not  Sceptical.  .  . 
He  arrives  at  more  Certainty . 

His  Proof  of  a  Deity 79 

Another  Proof  of  it 79 

His  Deductions  from  this  ...     81 
Primary  and  Secondary  Qualities     81 
Objections  made  to  his  Medita- 
tions      82 

Theory  of  Memory  and  Imagi- 
nation   84 

Seat  of  Soul  in  Pineal  Gland  .    .    86 
Uassendi's  Attacks  on  the  Me- 
ditations .  .86 


Superiority  of  Descartes     ...     86 
Stewart's     Remarks     on     Des- 
cartes   87 

Paradoxes  of  Descartes  ....  89 
His  just  Notion  of  Definitions  .  90 
His  Notion  of  Substances  ...  92 

Not  quite  correct 93 

His  Notions  of  Intuitive  Truth  .  93 
Treatise  on  Art  of  Logic  ...  95 
Merits  of  his  Writings  ....  95 
His  Notions  of  Free-will  ...  96 
Fame  of  his  System,  and  At- 
tacks upon  it 97 

Controversy  with  Voet  ....  98 
Charges  of  Plagiarism  ....  99 
Recent  Increase  of  his  Fame  .  .  101 
Metaphysical  Treatises  of 

Hobbes 101 

His  Theory  of  Sensation    .    .    .102 
Coincident  with  Descartes .    .    .102 
Imagination  and  Memory  .     .     .  103 
Discourse  or  Train  of  Imagina- 
tion  104 

Experience  ...  ...  105 

Unconceivableness  of  Infinity     .  105 

Origin  of  Language 106 

His  Political  Theory  interferes  .  107 
Necessitv  of  Speech  exaggerated  107 

Use  of  Names 108 

Names  universal,  not  Realities    .  108 

How  imposed 109 

The  Subject  continued  ....  110 
Names  differently  imposed  .  .  Ill 

Knowledge 112 

Reasoning 113 

False  Reasoning 114 

Its  Frequency 116 

Knowledge  of  Fact  not  derived 

from  Reasoning 117 

Belief 117 

Chart  of  Science 118 

Analysis  of  Passions 119 

Good"  and  Evil,  relative  Terms    .  119 

His  Paradoxes 120 

His  Notion  of  Love 120 

Curiosity 121 

Difference  of  Intellectual  Capa- 
cities     121 

Wit  and  Fancy 122 

Differences  in  the  Passions     .     .  123 

Madness 123 

Unmeaning  Language  .    .    .     .123 

Manners 124 

Ignorances  and  Prejudice  .  .  .  124 
His  Theory  of  Religion  .  .  .  .  125 
Its  supposed  Sources  ....  128 


CONTENTS  OF  TOL.  in. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


HISTORY   OP  MORAL  AND   POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  AND    OF  JURIS- 
PRUDENCE FROM   1600   TO   1650. 


Casuistical  "Writers 131 

Importance  of  Confession   .     .     .  131 
Necessity  of  Rules  for  the  Con- 
fessor     132 

Increase  of  Casuistical  Literature  132 
Distinction  of  Subjective  and  Ob- 
jective Morality 133 

Director)'  Office  of  the  Confessor  133 
Difficulties  of  Casuistry.  .  .  .134 
Strict  and  lax  Schemes  of  it  .  .  134 
Convenience  of  the  Latter  .  .  .  135 
Favored  by  the  Jesuits  ....  135 

The  Cause's  of  this 136 

Extravagance  of  the  strict  Ca- 
suists     136 

Opposite  Faults  of  Jesuits  .    .     .137 

Suarez,  De  Legibus 138 

Titles  of  his  Ten  Books  .  .  .138 
Heads  of  the  Second  Book  .  .  138 
Character  of  such  Scholastic 

Treatises 139 

Quotations  of  Suarez  ....  140 
His  Definition  of  Eternal  Law  .140 
Whether  God  is  a  Legislator  .  .  142 
Whether  God  could  permit  or 

commend  Wrong  Actions  .  .  142 
English  Casuists :  Perkins,  Hall  143 
Selden,  De  Jure  Natural!  juxta 

Hebneos 144 

Jewish  Theory  of  Natural  Law  .  144 
Seven  Precepts  of  the  Sons  of 

Noah 145 

Character  of  Selden's  Work   .     .  145 

Grotius  and  Hobbes 146 

Charron  on  Wisdom 146 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer:     his  Dia- 
logues   147 

Bacon's  Essays 148 

Their  Excellence 149 

Feltham's  Resolves 150 

Browne's  Religio  Medici    .    .    .  151 

Selden's  Table  Talk 152 

Osborn's  Advice  to  his  Son    .     .  152 
John  Valentine  Andrea      .     .     .  153 
Abandonment  of  Anti-monarchi- 
cal Theories 155 

Political  Literature  becomes  his- 
torical   156 


Page 

Bellenden  De  Statu  .....  156 
Campanella's  Politics  ....  157 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer 157 

Naude's  Coups  d'Etat    ....  157 
Patriarchal   Theory  of  Govern- 
ment     158 

Refuted  by  Suarez 158 

His  Opinion  of  Law 159 

Bacon 161 

Political  Economy 161 

Serra  on  the  Means  of  obtaining 

Money  without  Mines     .    .    .  162 
His  Causes  of  Wealth    ....  162 
His  Praise  of  Venice      ....  163 
Low  Rate  of  Exchange  not  es- 
sential to  Wealth 164 

Hobbes  :  his  Political  Works  .  164 
Analysis  of  his  Three  Treatises  .  165 
Civil"  Jurists  of  this  Period  .  .176 

Suarez  on  Laws 177 

Grotius,  De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis  .  177 
Success  of  this  Work  ....  178 

Its  Originality 179 

Its  Motive  and  Object   ....  179 

His  Authorities 179 

Foundation  of  Natural  Law    .    .180 

Positive  Law 181 

Perfect  and  imperfect  Rights  .  .182 
Lawful  Cases  of  War  .  .  .  .182 
Resistance  by  Subjects  unlawful  182 
All  Men  naturally  have  Right  of 

War 184 

Right  of  Self-defence  ....  184 
Its  Origin  and  Limitations  .  .  185 

Right  of  Occupancy 188 

Relinquishment  of  it 187 

Right  over  Persons.  —  By  Gene- 
ration * 187 

By  Consent 188 

In  Marriage 188 

In  Commonwealths 188 

Right  of  alienating  Subjects  .  .  188 
Alienation  by  Testament  .  .  .  188 
Rights  of  Property  by  Positive 

Law 189 

Extinction  of  Rights 189 

Some  Casuistical  Questions  .  .  190 
Promises 190 


VI 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  HI. 


Page 
Contracts 191 

Considered  ethically 191 

Promissory  Oaths 192 

Kn^wmiiiits  of  Kings  towards 

Subjects 193 

Public  Treaties 193 

Tlifir  Interpretation 194 

Obligation  to  repair  Injury  .  .  196 
Rights  by  Law  of  Nations.  .  .196 
Tln.se  or  Ambassadors  ....  197 

Right  of  Sepulture 197 

Punishments 197 

Their  Responsibility 199 

Iiisullkient  Causes  of  War     .    .300 

Duty  of'avoiding  it 200 

Ami  Expediency 201 

War  for  the  Sate  of  other  Sub- 
jects      201 

Allies 201 

Strangers 201 

None  to  serve  in  an  unjust  War  202 

Rights  in  War 202 

Use  of  Deceit  ...."...  203 
link's  and  Customs  of  Nations  .  203 

Reprisals 203 

Declarations  of  War 203 


Page 
Rights  by  Law  of  Nations  over 

Enemies 204 

Prisoners  become  Slaves  .  .  .  205 
Right  of  Postlimininm  .  .  .  .  205 
Moral  Limitation  of  Rights  in 

War 206 

Moderation  required  as  to  Spoil .  206 

And  as  to  Prisoners 207 

Also  in  Conquest 207 

And    in    Restitution    to    Right 

Owners 207 

Promises  to  Enemies  and  Pirates  208 
Treaties  concluded  by  competent 

Authority 209 

Matters  relating  to  them  .  .  .  209 
Truces  and  Conventions  .  .  .  210 
Those  of  Private  Persons  .  .  .211 
Objections  to  Grotius,  made  by 

Paley,  unreasonable  ....  211 
Reply  of  Mackintosh      .    .    .    .  212 

Censures  of  Stewart 213 

Answer  to  them 213 

Grotius  vindicated  against  Rous- 
seau     218 

His  Arrangement 219 

His  Defects 220 


CHAPTER  V. 


HISTORY  OF  POETRY  FROM   1600  TO   1650. 


Low  Estimation  of  the  Seicen- 

ti.-li 221 

Not  quite  so  great  as  formerly    .  221 
Praise  of  them  by  Rubbi    .    .    .222 

Also  by  Salfi 222 

Adone  ofMarini 223 

Its  Character 223 

And  Popularity 224 

Sen  hia  liapita  of  Tassoni .    .    .225 

Chiabrera 226 

His  Followers 228 

The  Styles  of  Spanish  Poetry     .  229 

The  I .'"iimncrs 229 

The  Brothers  Argensola     .    .    .  230 

YilK'gas 230 

'Jut'vedo 231 

Detects    of    Taste    in*  Spanish 

Verse 232 

Pwlantry  and  far-fetched  Allu- 
sions      233 

c.ongora 233 

The  Schools  formed  i  y  him  .    .  234 


Malherbe 235 

Criticisms  upon  his  Poetry     .    .  236 

Satires  of  Regnier 237 

Racan;  Maynard --T 

Voiture 238 

Sarrazin 238 

Low  State  of  German  Literature  239 

Literary  Societies 239 

Opitz  ." 240 

His  Followers 241 

Dutch  Poetry 242 

Spiegel 242 

Hooft;  Cats;  Vondel    .    .    .    .242 

Danish  Poetry 243 

English  Poets  numerous  in  this 

Age 243 

Phineas  Fletcher 244 

Giles  Fletcher 245 

Philosophical  Poetry      ....  245 

Lord  Brooke 246 

Denham's  Cooper's  Hill     .    .    .  246 
Poets  called  Metaphysical .    .    .  247 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  HL 


Vll 


Page 
Donne 248 

Crashaw 249 

Cowley 249 

Johnson's  Character  of  him  .  .250 
Narrative  Poets :  Daniel  ...  250 
Dray  ton' s  Polyolbion  ....  250 
Browne's  Britannia's  Pastorals  .  251 

Sir  John  Beaumont 252 

Davenant's  Gondibert  ....  252 
Sonnets  of  Shakspeare  ....  253 
The  Person  whom  they  address  .  255 
Sonnets  of  Druuunond  and  others  256 

Carew 257 

Ben  Jonson 258 

Wither 259 

Habington 259 

Earl  or  Pembroke 259 

Suckling 259 

Lovelace 260 

Herrick 260 


Page 

Milton '261 

His  Comus 261 

Lycidas 261  _ 

Allegro  and  Penseroso  ....  263 " 

Ode  on  the  Nativity 263 

His  Sonnets 263 

Anonymous  Poetry 264 

Latin  Poets  of  France  ....  2,64 
In  Germany  and  Italy  ....  265 
In  Holland:  Heinsius  ....  265 

Casimir  Sarbievius 266 

Barlseus 267 

Balde:  Greek  Poem  of  Heinsius  268 
Latin  Poets  of  Scotland:  Jon- 

ston's  Psalms 268 

Owen's  Epigrams 268 

Alabaster's  Roxana 268 

May's  Supplement  to  Lucan  .  .  269 
Milton's  Latin  Poems  ....  270 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HISTORY  OF  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE   FROM    1600  TO  1650. 


Decline  of  the  Italian  Theatre  .  271 

Filli  di  Sciro 272 

Translations  of  Spanish  Dramas  273 
Extemporaneous  Comedy  .  .  .  273 

Spanish  Stage 274 

Calderon:  Number  of  his  Pieces  274 

His  Comedies 275 

La  Vida  es  Suefip 276 

A  Secreto  Agravio  Secreta  Ven- 

ganca 278 

Style  of  Calderon 278 

His  Merits  sometimes  overrated .  279 

Plays  of  Hardy 281 

The  Cid 282 

Style  of  Corneille 283 

Les  Horaces 284 

Cinna 285 

Polyeucte 285 

Rodogune 286 

Pompey 286 

Heraclius 287 

Nicomede 287 

Faults  and  Beauties  of  Corneille  287 

Le  Menteur 288 

Other  French  Tragedies  .  .  .288 

Wenceslas  of  Rotrou 289 

Popularity  of  the  Stage  under 

Elizabeth .290 

Number  of  Theatres  .  ...  290 


Encouraged  by  James   ....  290 
General  Taste  for  the  Stage    .    .  291 
Theatres   closed  by  the   Parlia- 
ment     292 

Shakspeare's  Twelfth  Night  .  .  293 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  ;  .  .  293 
Measure  for  Measure  ....  295 

Lear 296 

Timon  of  Athens 297 

Pericles 299 

His  Roman   Tragedies :    Julius 

Caesar 300 

Antony  and  Cleopatra  ....  300 

Coriolanus 300 

His  Retirement  and  Death  .  ..301 
Greatness  of  his  Genius  .  .  .  302 

His  Judgment 303 

His  Obscurity  .......  304 

His  Popularity 305 

Critics  on  Shakspeare    ....  305 

Ben  Jonson 306 

The  Alchemist 307 

Volpone ;   or,  The  Fox  ....  307 

The  Silent  Woman 308 

Sad  Shepherd 309 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  .  .  .  309 
Corrupt  Sta'e  of  their  Text  .  .310 
The  Maid'j  Tragedy  ....  311 
Philaster 312 


Vlll 


CONTENTS  OF   VOL.  IIL 


Page 

King  and  No  King 312 

The  Elder  Brother 313 

The  Spanish  Curate 314 

The  Custom  of  the  Country    .    .315 

The  Loyal  Subject 315 

Beggar's  Bush 316 

The  Scornful  Lady 316 

Valentinian 317 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  .  .  .818 
The  Faithful  Shepherdess  .  .  .319 
Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife  .  320 

Some  other  Plays 320 

Origin  of  Fletcher's  Plays  .  .  .321 
Defects  of  their  Plots  ....  321 
Their  Sentiments  and  Style 

dramatic 322 

Their  Characters 323 

Their  Tragedies 323 


Page 

Inferior  to  their  Comedies  .  .  .  324 
Their  Female  Characters  .  .  .  324 
Massinger:  General  Nature  of  326 

his  Dramas 326 

His  Delineations  of  Character     .  326 

His  Subjects 327 

Beauty  of  his  Style 328 

Inferiority  of  his  Comic  Powers  .  328 
Some  of  his  Tragedies  particu- 
larized  328 

And  of  his  other  Plays  ....  329 

Ford 329 

Shirley 331 

Heywood 331 

Webster 332 

His  Duchess  of  Malfy  .  .  .  .  332 
Vittoria  Corombona 333 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HISTORY  OF  POLITE  LITERATURE  IH  PROSE  FROM   1600   TO   1650. 


Decline  of  Taste  in  Italy    .    .    .335 

Style  of  Galileo 336 

Bentivoglio 337 

Boccalini's  News  from  Parnassus  337 
His  Pietra  del  Paragone  .  .  .  338 

Ferrante  Pallavicino 339 

Dictionary  Delia  Crusca  .  .  .  339 
Grammatical  Works :  Buonmat- 

tei  Bartoli 340 

Tassoni's  Remarks  on  Petrarch  .  340 
Galileo's  Remarks  on  Tasso  .  .  341 

Sforza  Pallavicino 341 

And  other  Critical  Writers  .  .  341 
Prolusiones  of  Strada  ....  342 
Spanish  Prose:  Gracian  .  .  .  342 
French  Prose:  Du  Vair  .  .  .  343 

Bal/ac 344 

Character  of  his  Writings  .    .    .  344 

His  Letters 345 

Voittire :  Hotel  Rambouillet  .    .  346 
Establishment  of  French  Acade- 
my   348 

Its  Objects  and  Constitution  .  .  349 
It  publishes  a  Critique  on  the  Cid  349 
Yangelas'  Remarks  on  the 

French  Language 351 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer 351 

Lf.n-iil  Speeches  of  Patru    .    .    .352 

And  of  Le  Maistre 353 

Improvement  in  English  Style    .  354 

Earl  of  F.ssex 355 

Kuolles's  History  of  the  Turks  .  355 


Raleigh's  History  of  the  World  .  357 
Daniel's  History"  of  England  .  .  358 

Bacon 358 

Milton 359 

Clarendon 359 

The  Icon  Basilice 359 

Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  360 

Earle's  Characters 361 

Overbury's  Characters  ....  362 
Jonson's  Discoveries  ....  362 
Publication  of  Don  Quixote  .  .  363 

Its  Reputation 363 

New  Views  of  its  Design   .     .    .  363 

Probably  erroneous 365 

Difference  between  the  two  Parts  365 
Excellence  of  this  Romance  .  .  368 
Minor  Novels  of  Cervantes  .  .  368 
Other  Novels:  Spanish.  .  .  .  368 

And  Italian 368 

French  Romances:  Astree  .  .  369 
Heroic  Romances :  Gomberville  .  369 

Calprenede 370 

Scuderi 3"l 

Argenis  of  Barclay 372 

His  Euphonnio 3"3 

Campanella's  City  of  the  Sun  .  373 
Few  Books  of  Fiction  in  England  374 
Mundus  Alter  et  Idem  of  Hall  .  375 
Godwin's  Journey  to  the  Moon  .  375 
Howell's  Dodona's  Grove  .  .  .  376 
Adventures  of  Baron  de  Fajneste  371 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL. 


CHAPTER  vm. 


HI5TOET  OF  MATHEMATICAL  AXD   PHTSICAi,  SCIESCE  FKOM 

1600  TO  1650. 


Page 

State  of  Science  in  16th  Century  377 
Tediousness  of  Calculations  .  .  378 
Napier's  Invention  of  Logarithms  376 

Their  Nature 378 

Property  01'  Numbers  discovered 

by  St'iiL-lius 378 

Extended  to  Magnitudes    .    .    .  379 

By  Napier 3*0 

Tables  of  Napier  and  Briggs .  .  380 
Kepler's  New  Geometry  .  .  .  381 
Its  Difference  from  the  Ancient  .  382 

Adopted  bv  Galileo 383 

Extended  by  Cavalieri  ....  383 
Applied  to  the  Ratios  of  Solids  .  384 
Problem  of  the  Cycloid  .  .  .  384 

Progress  of  Algefira 385 

Briggs;  Girard 385 

Harriott 3S6 

Descartes 387 

His  Application  of  Algebra  to 

Curves 388 

Suspected  Plagiarism  from  Har- 
riott       388 

Fennat 389 

Algebraic  Geometry  not  success- 
ful at  first 390 

Astronomy:  Kepler 390 

Conjectures  as  to  Comets   .    .    .  392 
Galileo's  Discovery  of  Jupiter's 
Satellites 392 


Page 

Other  Discoveries  by  him  .     .     .  393 
Spots  of  the  Sun  discovered  .     .  394 
Copernican  Svstem  held  by  Ga- 
lileo     .     . " 394 

His  Dialogues,  and  Persecution  .  395 
Descartes  alarmed  by  this .    .    .  396 
Progress  of  Copernican  Svstem  .  396 
Descartes  denies  general  Gravita- 
tion  397 

Cartesian  Theory  of  the  World  .  398 
Transits  of  Mercury  and  Venus  .  399 

Laws  of  Mechanics" 399 

Statics  of  Galileo 400 

His  Dynamics 401 

Mechanics  of  Descartes  .  .  .  402 
Laws  of  Motion  laid  down  by 

Descartes 403 

Also  those  of  Compound  Forces .  404 
Other  Discoveries  in  Mechanics  .  404 
In  Hydrostatics  and  Pneumatics  404 
Optics :  Discoveries  of  Kepler  .  405 
Invention  of  the  Telescope  .  .  406 

Of  the  Microscope 407 

Antonio  de  Dominis 407 

Dioptrics  of  Descartes;    Law  of 

Refraction 408 

Disputed  bv  Fennat 408 

Curves  of  Descartes 409 

Theory  of  the  Rainbow      .    .    .409 


CHAPTER 


HISTORY  OF  SOME  OTHKB  PROVINCES   OF  UTERATCEE  FROM 
1600  TO  1650. 

Aldrovandus 411  I  John  and  Gaspar  Bauhin 


415 


Clusius 411 

Piso  and  Marcgraf 412 

Jon -ton 412 

Fabric!  us   on   the    Language  of 

Brutes 413 

Botanv:  Columna     .....  415 


Parkinson 416 

Valves  of  the  Veins  discovered  .  416 
Theory  of  the  Blood's  Circula- 
tion"  417 

Sometimes  ascribed  to  Servetus  .  417 
To  Columbus 418 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL. 


Page 

And  to  CsBsalpin 419 

Generally  unknown  before  Har- 
vey   420 

His  Discovery 420 

Unjustly  doubted  to  be  original .  421 
Harvey's  Treatise  on  Generation  422 
Lacteals  discovered  by  Asellius  .  422 
Optical  Discoveries  of  Scheiner  .  428 
Medicine :  Van  Helmont  .  .  .  423 

Diffusion  of  Hebrew 424 

Language  not  studied  in  the  best 

Method 424 

The  Biixtorfs 425 

Vowel-points  rejected  by  Cappel  426 

Hebrew  Scholars 427 

Chaldee  and  Syriac 427 

Arabic 428 

Erpenius 428 

Golius 428 

Other  Eastern  Languages  .    .    .  429 


Page 

Purchas's  Pilgrim 429 

Olearius  and  Pietro  della  Valle  .  430 

Lexicon  of  Ferrari 430 

Maps  of  Blaew 431 

Davila  and  Bentivoglio.  .  .  .  431 
Mendoza's  Wars  of  Granada .  .  432 

Mezeray 432 

English  Historians 432 

English  Histories 432 

Universities 433 

Bodleian  Library  founded  .  .  .  433 
Casaubon's  Account  of  Oxford  .  434 
Catalogue  of  Bodleian  Library  .  435 
Continental  Libraries  ....  435 

Italian  Academies 436 

The  Lincei  ........  437 

Prejudice    for   Antiquity    dimi-        , 

nished 438 

Browne's  Vulgar  Errors  .  .  .  439 
Life  and  Character  of  Peiresc  .  440 


INTRODUCTION 


LITERATURE    OF    EUROPE 

INT  THE  FIFTEENTH,   SIXTEENTH,  AND 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURIES. 


PART     HE. 


ON  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  FIRST  HALF  OF  THE 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

HISTORY  OF  SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY,  FKOM  1600  TO  1650. 

SECTION  L 

Aristotelian  Logic  —  Campanella  —  Theosophists —  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherburj  --- 

Ga&sendi's  Remarks  upon  him. 

1.  IN  the  two  preceding  periods,  we  have  had  occasion  to 
excuse  the  heterogeneous  character  of  the  chapters   <,nh. 
that  bear  this  title.     The  present  is  fully  as  much  of  this 
open  to  verbal  criticism ;  and  perhaps  it  is  rather  by  chaPter- 
excluding  both  moral  and  mathematical  philosophy  that  w-i 
give  it  some  sort  of  unity,  than  from  a  close  connection  in  all 
the  books  that  will  come  under  our  notice  in  the  ensuing  pages. 
But  any  tabular  arrangement  of  literature,  such  as  has  often 
been  attempted  with  no  very  satisfactory  result,  would  be  ab- 
solutely inappropriate  to  such  a  work  as  the  present,  which 
has  already  to  labor  with  the  inconvenience  of  more  subdivi- 
sions than  can  be  pleasing  to  the  reader,  and  would  interfere 
too  continually  with  that  general  regard  to  chronology,  without 


12  ARISTOTELIANS  AND  EAMISTS.  PART  111 

which  the  name  of  history  seems  incongruous.  Hence  the 
metaphysical  inquiries  that  are  conversant  with  the  human 
mind  or  with  natural  theology,  the  general  principles  of  in- 
vestigating truth,  the  comprehensive  speculations  of  theoreti- 
cal physics, — subjects  very  distinct,  and  not  easily  confounded 
by  the  most  thoughtless,  —  must  fall,  with  no  more  special  dis- 
tribution, within  the  contents  of  this  chapter.  But  since, 
during  the  period  which  it  embraces,  men  arose  who  have  laid 
the  foundations  of  a  new  philosophy,  and  thus  have  rendered 
it  a  great  epoch  in  the  intellectual  history  of  mankind,  we 
shall  not  very  strictly,  though  without  much  deviation,  follow 
a  chronological  order,  and,  after  reviewing  some  of  the  less 
important  laborers  in  speculative  philosophy,  come  to  the 
names  of  three  who  have  most  influenced  posterity,  —  Bacon, 
Descartes,  and  Hobbes. 

2.  We  have  seen  in  a  former  chapter  how  little  progress 
had  been  made  in  this  kind  of  philosophy  during  the 
and     sixteenth  century.     At  its  close,  the  schools  of  logic 

T        •   1        1        il  1         1 

were  divided,  though  by  no  means  in  equal  propor- 
tion, between  the  Aristotelians  and  the  Ramists  :  the  one  sus- 
tained by  ancient  renown,  by  civil  or  at  least  academical 
power,  and  by  the  common  prejudice  against  innovation ;  the 
other  deriving  some  strength  from  the  love  of  novelty,  and  the 
prejudice  against  established  authority,  which  the  first  age  of 
the  Reformation  had  generated,  and  which  continued,  perhaps, 
to  preserve  a  certain  influence  in  the  second.  But  neither 
from  one  nor  the  other  had  philosophy,  whether  in  material  or 
intellectual  physics,  much  to  hope :  the  disputations  of  the 
schools  might  be  technically  correct ;  but  so  little  regard  was 
paid  to  objective  truth,  or  at  least  so  little  pains  taken  to  as- 
certain it,  that  no  advance  in  real  knowledge  signalized  either 
of  these  parties  of  dialecticians.  According,  indeed,  to  a 
writer  of  this  age,  strongly  attached  to  the  Aristotelian  party, 
Rainus  had  turned  all  physical  science  into  the  domain  of 
logic,  and  argued  from  words  to  things  still  more  than  his 
opponents.1  Lord  Bacon,  in  the  bitterest  language,  casts  on 
him  a  similar  reproach.2  It  seems  that  he  caused  this  branch 
of  philosophy  to  retrograde  rather  than  advance. 

1  Kockermann,   Prsecojrnita  Txsgica,   p.  to  Vives.    He  praises  the  former,  howevet , 

12*.*.      Tliis   writer  charges    Rjxmus    with  for  having  attacked  the  scholastic  party, 

plagiarism  from  Uulnvicu*  Vives,  placing  being  himself  a  genuine  Aristotelian, 

the  paatnges  in  apposition,  so  an  to  prove  2  "  Ne  vcro.  fill,  cum  hauc  contra  ArU- 

bU  case.     Ram  us,  he  Bays,  never  alludes  totclem  mmteutiaiii  fero,  me  cum  rebelll. 


CHAP.  HI.  METHODS  OF  THE  UNIVERSITIES.  13 

3.  It  was  obvious,  at  all  events,  that  from  the  universities, 
or  from  the  church,  in  any  country,  no  improvement  No  im_ 

in  philosophy  was  to  be  expected ;  yet  those  who  had   provement 
strayed  from  the  beaten  track,  a  Paracelsus,  a  Jor-   the  enj  of 
dano  Bruno,  even  a  Telesio,  had  but  lost  themselves   the  centu- 
in  irregular  mysticism,  or  laid  down  theories  of  their 
own,  as  arbitrary  and  destitute  of  proof  as  those  they  endea- 
vored to  supersede.     The  ancient  philosophers,  and  especially 
Aristotle,  were,  with  all  their  errors  and  defects,  far  more 
genuine  nigh-priests  of  nature  than  any  moderns  of  the  six- 
teenth century.     But  there  was  a  better  prospect  at  its  close, 
in  separate  though  very  important  branches  of  physical  sci- 
ence.    Gilbert,  Kepler,  Galileo,  were  laying  the  basis  of  a 
true  philosophy ;  and  they  who  do  not  properly  belong  to  this 
chapter  labored  very  effectually  to  put  an  end  to  all  anti- 
quated errors,  and  to  check  the  reception  of  novel  paradoxes. 

4.  We  may  cast  a  glance,  meantime,  on  those  universities 
which  still  were  so  wise  in  their  own  conceit,  and  Methods 
maintained  a  kind  of  reputation  by  the  multitude  of   ^Lto^. 
their   disciples.      Whatever   has   been   said   of  the   ties, 
scholastic   metaphysicians   of  the  sixteenth  century  may  be 
understood  as  being  applicable  to  their  successors  during  the 
present  period.      Their  method  was   by  no   means   extinct, 
though  the  books  which  contain  it  are  forgotten.     In  all  that 
part  of  Europe  which  acknowledged  the  authority  of  Rome, 
and  in  all  the  universities  which  were  swayed  by  the  orders  of 
Franciscans,  Dominicans,  and  Jesuits,  the  metaphysics  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  the  dialectics  of  the  Peripatetic  school, 
were  still  taught.     If  new  books  were  written,  as  was  frequent- 
ly the  case,  they  were  written  upon  old  systems.     Brucker, 
who  sometimes  transcribes  Morhof  word  for  word,  but  fre- 
quently expands  with  so  much  more  copiousness  that  he  may 
be  presumed  to  have  had  a  direct  acquaintance  with  many  of 
the  books  he  mentions,  has  gone  most  elaborately  into  this 
unpropitious  subject.1    The  chairs  of  philosophy  in  Protestant 

ejus  quodam  neoterico  Petro  Ramo  con-  rebus  rerum  varietatem  effinxit,  hie  vero 
spirasse  augurare.  Nullum  mihi  com-  etiam  in  rebus  non  rerum  solitudinera. 
mercium  cum  hoc  ignorantiae  latibulo,  aequavit.  Atque  hoc  hominis  cum  sit, 
perniciosissima  literarum  tinea,  compen-  hurnanos  tamen  usus  in  ore  habet  impu- 
diorum  patre,  qui  cum  method!  suse  et  dens,  ut  mihi  etiam  pro  [pra?  ?]  sophistis 
compendii  vinclis  res  torqueat  et  premat,  prtevaricari  videatur."  —  Bacon,  De  Inter- 
res  quidem,  si  qua  fuit,  elabitur  protinus  pretatione  Naturae. 

et  exsilit :   ipse  vero  aridas  et  desertissi-  *  Morhof,  vol.  ii.  1. 1,  c.  13, 14 ;  Brucker, 

mas  nugas  stringit.    Atque  Aquinas  qui-  iv.  cap.  2,  3. 
dam  cum  Scoto  et  sociis  etiam  in  non 


14  SCHOLASTIC  WRITERS.  PART  in. 

German  universities,  except  where  the  Ramists  had  got  pos- 
session of  them,  which  was  not  very  common,  especially  after 
the  first  years  of  this  period,  were  occupied  by  avowed  Aristo- 
telians; so  that,  if  one  should  enumerate  the  professors  of 
physics,  metaphysics,  logic,  and  ethics,  down  to  the  close 
of  the  century,  he  would  be  almost  giving  a  list  of  strenuous 
adherents  of  that  system.1  One  cause  of  this  was  the  "  Philip- 
pic method,"  or  course  of  instruction  in  the  philosophical 
books  of  Melanchthon,  more  clear  and  elegant,  and  better 
arranged,  than  those  of  Aristotle  himself  or  his  commentators. 
But  this,  which  long  continued  to  prevail,  was  deemed  by 
some  too  superficial,  and  tending  to  set  aside  the  original  au- 
thority. Brucker,  however,  admits,  what  seems  at  least  to 
limit  some  of  his  expressions  as  to  the  prevalence  of  Peripa- 
teticism,  that  many  reverted  to  the  scholastic  metaphysics, 
which  raised  its  head  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  even  in  the  Protestant  regions  of  Germany.  The 
universities  of  Altdorf  and  Helmstadt  were  the  chief  nurseries 
of  the  genuine  Peripateticism.2 

5.  Of  the  metaphysical  writers  whom  the  older  philosophy 
Scholastic    brought  forth  we  must  speak  with  much  ignorance, 
writers.       Suarez  of  Granada  is  justly  celebrated  for  some  of 
his  other  works ;  but  of  his  Metaphysical  Disputations,  pub- 
lished at  Mentz  in  1614,  in  two  folio  volumes,  and  several 
times  afterwards,  I  find  no  distinct  character  in  Morhof  or 
Brucker.      They  both,  especially   the   former,  have   praised 
Lalemandet,  a  Franciscan,  whose  Decisiones  Philosophies,  on 
logic,  physics,  and  metaphysics,  appeared  at  Munich  in  1644 
and  1645.     Lalemandet,  says  Morhof,  has  well   stated  the 
questions  between  the  Nominalist  and  Realist  parties ;   ob- 
serving that  the  difference  between  them  is  like  that  of  a  man 
who  casts  up  a  sum  of  money  by  figures,  and  one  who  counts 
the  coins  themselves.8     Vasquez,  Tellez,  and  several  more 
names,  without  going  for  the  present  below  the  middle  of  the 
century,  may  be  found  in  the  two  writers  quoted.     Spain  was 
peculiarly  the  nurse  of  these  obsolete  and  unprofitable  meta- 
physics. 

6.  The  Aristotelian  philosophy,  unadulterated  by  the  fig- 
ments of  the  schoolmen,  had  eminent  upholders  in  the  Italian 
universities,  especially  in  that  of  Padua.     Caesar  Cremonini 

»  Brucker,  IT.  248.  »  Id.,  pp.  248-253. 

•  Morhof,  vol  U.  lib.  i.  cap.  14,  sect.  16  J  Brucker,  iv.  129. 


CHAP.  m.  SCHOLASTIC  WRITERS— LOGIC.  15 

taught  in  that  famous  city  till  his  death  in  1630.  Fortunio 
Liceto,  his  successor,  was  as  stanch  a  disciple  of  the  Peripa- 
tetic sect.  We  have  a  more  full  account  of  these  men  from 
Gabriel  Naude,  both  in  his  recorded  conversation,  the  Naudae- 
ana,  and  in  a  volume  of  letters,  than  from  any  other  quarter. 
His  twelfth  letter,  especially,  enters  into  some  detail  as  to  the 
state  of  the  University  of  Padua,  to  which,  for  the  purpose  of 
hearing  Cremonini,  he  had  repaired  in  1625.  He  does  not 
much  extol  its  condition :  only  Cremonini  and  one  more  were 
deemed  by  him  safe  teachers ;  the  rest  were  mostly  of  a  com- 
mon class ;  the  lectures  were  too  few,  and  the  vacations  too 
long.  He  observes,  as  one  might  at  this  day,  the  scanty  popu- 
lation of  the  city  compared  with  its  size ;  the  grass  growing 
and  the  birds  singing  in  the  streets ;  and,  what  we  should  not 
find  now  to  be  the  case,  the  "  general  custom  of  Italy,  which 
keeps  women  perpetually  locked  up  in  their  chambers,  like 
birds  in  cages."1  Naude,  in  many  of  these  letters,  speaks  in 
the  most  panegyrical  terms  of  Cremonini,2  and  particularly  for 
his  standing  up  almost  alone  in  defence  of  the  Aristotelian 
philosophy,  when  Telesio,  Patrizi,  Bruno,  and  others  had  been 
propounding  theories  of  their  own.  Liceto,  the  successor  of 
Cremonini,  maintained,  he  afterwards  informs  us,  with  little 
support,  the  Peripatetic  verity.  It  is  probable,  that,  by  this 
time,  Galileo,  a  more  powerful  adversary  than  Patrizi  or  Te- 
lesio, had  drawn  away  the  students  of  physical  philosophy 
from  Aristotle ;  nor  did  Naude  himself  long  continue  in  the 
faith  he  had  imbibed  from  Cremonini.  He  became  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  Gassendi,  and  embraced  a  better  system  with- 
out repugnance,  though  he  still  kept  up  his  correspondence 
with  Liceto. 

7.  Logic   had   never   been   more   studied,  according   to  a 
writer  who  has  given  a  sort  of  history  of  the  science   Treatises 
about  the  beginning  of  this  period,  than  in  the  pre-  on  logic- 
ceding  age ;  and  in  fact  he  enumerates  above  fifty  treatises  on 
the  subject  between  the  time  of  Ramus  and  his  own.3     The 
Ramists,  though  of  little  importance  in  Italy,  in  Spain,  and 
even  in  France,  had  much  influence  in  Germany,  England, 
and  Scotland.4     None,  however,  of  the  logical  works  of  the 
sixteenth  century  obtained  such  reputation  as  those  by  Smig- 

1  Naudaei  Epistolas,  p.  52  (edit.  1667)  8  Keckermaun,   Prsecognita  Logica,  p. 

*  P.  27,  et  alibi  satpiiu.  110  (edit.  1606). 

«  Id.,  p  147. 


1 6  CAMPANELLA.  PART  HI 

lecius,  Burgersdicius,  and  our  countryman  Crakan thorp,  all 
of  whom  flourished,  if  we  may  use  such  a  word  for  those  who 
bore  no  flowers,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  next  age.  As  these 
men  were  famous  in  their  generation,  we  may  presume  that 
they  at  least  wrote  better  than  their  predecessors.  ]>ut  it  is 
time  to  leave  so  jejune  a  subject,  though  we  may  not  yet  be 
able  to  produce  what  is  much  more  valuable. 

8.  The  first  name,  in  an  opposite  class,  that  we  find  in  de- 
Campa-       scending    from    the   sixteenth   century,   is   that   of 

Thomas  Campanella,  whose  earliest  writings  belong 
to  it.  His  philosophy,  being  wholly  dogmatical,  must  be 
classed  with  that  of  the  paradoxical  innovators  whom  he  fol- 
lowed and  eclipsed.  Campanella,  a  Dominican  friar,  and,  like 
his  master  Telesio,  a  native  of  Cosenza,  having  been  accused, 
it  is  uncertain  how  far  with  truth,  of  a  conspiracy  against  the 
Spanish  government  of  his  country,  underwent  an  imprison- 
ment of  twenty-seven  years  ;  during  which,  almost  all  his  phi- 
losophical treatises  were  composed  and  given  to  the  world. 
Ardent  and  rapid  in  his  mind,  and,  as  has  just  been  seen,  not 
destitute  of  leisure,  he  wrote  on  logic,  physics,  metaphysics, 
morals,  politics,  and  grammar.  Upon  all  these  subjects,  his 
aim  seems  to  have  been  to  recede  as  far  as  possible  from  Aris- 
totle. He  had  early  begun  to  distrust  this  ^guide,  and  had 
formed  a  noble  resolution  to  study  all  schemes  of  philosophy, 
comparing  them  with  their  archetype,  the  world  itself,  that  he 
might  distinguish  how  much  exactness  was  to  be  found  in  those 
several  copies,  as  they  ought  to  be,  from  one  autograph  of 
nature.1 

9.  Campanella  borrowed  his  primary  theorems  from  Telesio, 
His  theory    but  enlarged  that  Parmenidean  philosophy  by  the 
t:iken  from   inventions  of  his  own  fertile  and  imaginative  genius. 

He  lays  down  the  fundamental  principle,  that  the 
perfectly  wise  and  good  Being  has  created  certain  signs  and 
types  (statuas  atque  imagines)  of  himself,  all  of  which,  seve- 
rally as  well  as  collectively,  represent  power,  wisdom,  and 
love,  and  the  objects  of  these  attributes,  namely,  existence, 
truth,  and  excellence,  with  more  or  less  evidence.  God  fir.-t 
created  space,  the  basis  of  existence,  the  primal  substance, 
an  immovable  and  incorporeal  capacity  of  receiving  body. 
Next  he  created  matter  without  form  or  figure.  In  this  cor- 

*  Cyprianl  Vita  Campanellse,  p.  7. 


CHAP.  HI.      NOTION  OF  UNIVERSAL  SENSIBILITY.  17 

poreal  mass,  God  called  to  being  two  workmen,  incorporeal 
themselves,  but  incapable  of  subsisting  apart  from  body,  the 
organs  of  no  physical  forms,  but  of  their  Maker  alone.  Thtse 
are  heat  and  cold,  the  active  principles  diffused  through  all 
things.  They  were  enemies  from  the  beginning,  each  striving 
to  occupy  all  material  substances  itself;  each  therefore  always 
contending  with  the  other,  while  God  foresaw  the  great  good 
that  their  discord  would  produce.1  The  heavens,  he  says  in 
another  passage,  were  formed  by  heat  out  of  attenuated 
matter,  the  earth  by  cold  out  of  condensed  matter :  the  sun, 
being  a  body  of  heat,  as  he  rolls  round  the  earth,  attacks  the 
colder  substance,  and  converts  part  of  it  into  air  and  vapor.3 
This  last  part  of  his  theory  Campanella  must  have  after- 
wards changed  in  words,  when  he  embraced  the  Copernican 
system. 

10.  He  united  to  this  physical  theory  another,  not  wholly 
original,  but  enforced  in  all  his  writings  with  singular   Notion  of 
confidence  and  pertinacity,  the  sensibility  of  all  ere-  universal 
ated  beings.     All  things,  he  says,  feel ;   else  would 
the  world  be  a  chaos.     For  neither  would  fire  tend  upwards, 
nor  stones  downwards,  nor  waters  to  the  sea ;  but  every  thing 
would  remain  where  it  was,  were  it  not  conscious  that  destruc- 
tion awaits  it  by  remaining  amidst  that  which  is  contrary  to 
itself,  and  that  it  can  only  be  preserved  by  seeking  that  which 
is  of  a  similar  nature.     Contrariety  is  necessary  for  the  decay 
and  reproduction  of  nature ;  but  all  things  strive  against  their 
contraries,  which  they  could  not  do  if  they  did  not  perceive 
what  is  their  contrary.3     God,  who  is  primal  power,  wisdom, 
and  love,  has  bestowed  on  all  things  the  power  of  existence, 
and  so  much  wisdom  and  love  as  is  necessary  for  their  conser- 

1  "  In  hac  corporea  mole  tantae  materia  Galileo,  in  1622,  Campanella  defends  the 
statuse,  dixifr  Dens,  ut  nascerentur  fabri  Copernican  system,  and  sa\s  that  the  mo- 
duo  incorporei,  sed  non  potentes  nisi  a  dern  astronomers  think  they  cannot  con- 
cnrpore  subsistere,  nullarum  physicarum  struct  good  ephemerides  without  it. 
formarum  organa,  sed  formatoris  tan  turn-  a  "  Oinnia  ergo  sentiunt :  alias  mundus 
modo.  Idoirco  nati  oalor  et  frigus,  prin-  esset  chaos.  Ignis  enim  non  siirsum 
oipia  activa  principal!*,  ideoque  sux  vir-  tenderet,  nee  aquse  in  mare,  nee  lapidrrf 
tutis  diffuMva.  Stutim  ininuc :i  fuerunt  deorsum ;  sed  res  omnis  ul>i  prime  repe- 
umtuo.  dun)  utcrque  cupit  tot  am  sub-  riivtur,  permaueret,  cum  non  sentirot  sui 
stantiam  materialem  occupare.  Hinc  con-  destructionem  inter  contr-.iria  nee  sui  con- 
tra ><•  invk-em  pugnare  oa'perunt,  provi-  servationem  inter  sirnilia.  Xon  esset  in 
deiite  Deo  ex  hujusmodi  di.-<-nrili;i  inirens  mundo  generatio  et  corruptio  nisi  esset 
bonuiii."  —  I'hil'i-opliia  lU/alis  Kpilogisti-  contrarietas,  sieut  oniues  ph;.Mologi  affir- 
oa  (Prankfoit,  1628),  sect.  4.  miint.  At  si  alteruni  contrariuro  non 

-  Tliis  i<  in  the  Compendium  de  Rerum  Bentiret  alterum  sibi  esse  contrarium,  con- 

NaUin  pro  Philosophia  humana,  published  tra  ipsum  non  pugnaret.     Sentiunt  ergc 

by  Adami  in  1617.    In  his  Apology  for  Bingula."  —  De  Sensu  Kerum,  1.  i.  c.  4. 

VOL.   III.  2 


18  CAMTANELLA'S  IMAGINATION.  Purr  IIL 

vation  during  that  time  only  for  which  his  providence  has 
determined  that  they  shall  be.  Heat,  therefore,  ha*  p.nvrr 
and  sense,  and  desire  of  its  own  being;  so  have  all  other 
things  seeking  to  be  eternal  like  God:  and  in  God  they  an-, 
eternal ;  for  nothing  dies  before  him,  but  is  only  changed.1 
Even  to  the  world  as  a  sentient  being,  the  death  of  its  parts 
is  no  evil,  since  the  death  of  one  is  the  birth  of  many.  Bread 
that  is  swallowed  dies  to  revive  as  blood,  and  blood  dies  that 
it  may  live  again  in  our  flesh  and  bones ;  and  thus,  as  the  life 
of  man  is  compounded  out  of  the  deatlis  and  lives  of  all  his 
parts,  so  is  it  with  the  whole  universe.2  God  said,  Let  all 
things  feel,  some  more,  some  less,  as  they  have  more  or  less 
necessity  to  imitate  my  being;  and  let  them  desire  to  live 
in  that  which  they  understand  to  be  good  for  them,  lest  my 
creation  should  come  to  nought.3 

11.  The  strength  of  Campanella's  genius  lay  in  his  imagi- 
u.  .  .  nation,  which  raises  him  sometimes  to  flights  of 
nation  and  impressive  eloquence  on  this  favorite  theme.  "  The 
eloquence,  g^y  an(j  gtars  are  endowed  with  the  keenest  sensibili- 
ty ;  nor  is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  they  signify  their 
mutual  thoughts  to  each  other  by  the  transference  of  light, 
and  that  their  sensibility  is  full  of  pleasure.  The  ble^i-d 
spirits  that  inform  such  living  and  bright  mansions  behold  all 
things  in  nature  and  in  the  divine  ideas :  they  have  also  a 
more  glorious  light  than  their  own,  through  which  they  are 
elevated  to  a  supernatural  beatific  vision." 4  We  can  hardly 


i  "  Igitur  ipse  Deus,  qui  est  prima  po-  ceatque.    Ita  utilis  est  mumlo  transmuta- 

tentia,    prima    sapientia.    primus    amor,  tio  eorum  particulnrium  noxia  displirrn*- 

lar£itus    est    rebus    omnibus    potentiam  que  illis.     Totus  homo  rompositus  est  ex 

Vivendi,  et  sapientiametamorem  quantum  morte  ac  vita  partialibus,  quae  integrant 

sumcit    conservation!    ipsarum    in    tanto  vitam  humanam.     Sic   mutidns  totus  ex 

tempore  necessari®,  qxiantum  dctermina-  mortibus  ac  vitabns  rom]>ositus  est,  quae 

vit  cjus  i iiens  pro  rerum  regimine  in  ipso  totius   vitam  efficiunt." — Philosop.  Kea- 

ente,  nee  prseteriri  potest.      Calor   ergo  Us,  c.  10. 

potest,  sehtit,  amat  esse :  itaetres  omnis,  s  "  Sentiant  alia  magis,  alia  minus,  prout 

cupitque  aeternari  sicut  Deus,  et  Deo  res  magis  minusque  opus  habent,  ut  me  imi- 

nulla  moritur.  sed  solummodo  mutatur,"  tentur  in  essendo.     Ibidem  ainent  onmia 

&c.  — 1.  ii.  c.  26.  were  in  proprio  esse  praecognito  ut  bono, 

1  "Non  est  malus  ignis  In  suo  esse;  terrse  ne  corruat  factura  mea."  —  Id.,  c.  10. 

iiiiti'iii  mains  videtur,  non  autem  mundo :  *  "  Anitrue  beatte  habitantes  sic  vivas  lu- 

nec  vipera  mala  esfc,  licet  homini  sit  mala,  cidasque  mansiones,  res  natunlcs  viilcnt 

Tta  do  omnibus  idem  praedico.     Mors  quo-  onines  divin:t>ique   ide;is.   habent   quoi|iia 

que  rei  unius  si  nativitas  est  multarum  lumen  gloriosius  quo  el<-v:mtur  ad   vi>io- 

rerum,  mala  non  est.     Moritur  panis man-  nem  supernatunilem  beatificam.  et  voluti 

ducatus,  ut  fiat  sanguis,  et  sanguis  mori-  apud  nos  luces  plurini;e  sose  inutuo  tan- 

tur,  ut  in  carnem,  nervos  et  ossa  vertatur  gunt.  intersecant,  decussaut.  sentiuntque, 

»(•  vivat ;   neqiu*  tamen  hoc  universe  dis-  Ha  in  ccelo  luces  distin^iiuntur,   uniun- 

pHcet  animali,  quam vis  partibus  more  ipsa,  tur,  sentiunt."  —  De  Seusu  Rerum,  1.  ill 

boo  eet,  franflmutatio  doloriflca  git,  displi-  o  4. 


CHAP.  HI.       HIS  IMAGINATION  AND  ELOQUENCE.  19 

rend  this  without  recollecting  the  most  sublime  passage,  per- 
haps, in  Shakspeare :  — 

"  Sit,  Jessica.    Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold ! 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb,  which  thou  behold'st, 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim. 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But,  while  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it."  l 

12.  "  The  world  is  full  of  living  spirits,"  he  proceeds ;  "  and, 
when  the  soul  shall  be  delivered  from  this  dark  cavern,  we 
shall  behold  their  subtle  essences.     But  now  we  cannot  dis- 
cern the  forms  of  the  air,  and  the  winds  as  they  rush  by  us  ; 
much  less  the  angels  and  demons  who  people  them.     Misera- 
ble as  we  are,  we  recognize  no  other  sensation  than  that  which 
we  observe  in  animals  and  plants,  slow  and  half  extinguished, 
and  buried  under  a  weight  that  oppresses  it.     We  will  not 
understand  that  all  our  actions  and  appetites  and  motions  and 
powers  flow  from  heaven.     Look  at  the  manner  in  which  light 
is  diffused  over  the  earth,  penetrating  every  part  of  it  with 
endless  variety  of  operation,  which  we  must  believe  that  it 
does  not  perform  without  exquisite  pleasure."  2     And  hence 
there  is  no  vacuum  in  nature,  except  by  violent  means ;  since 
all  bodies  delight  in  mutual  contact,  and  the  world  no  more 
desires  to  be  rent  in  its  parts  than  an  animal. 

13.  It  is  almost  a  descent  in  Campanella  from  these  visions 
of  the  separate  sensibility  of  nature  in  each  particle,  when  he 
seizes  hold  of  some  physical  fact  or  analogy  to  establish  a 
subordinate  and  less  paradoxical  part  of  his  theory.     He  was 
much  pleased   with   Gilbert's  treatise   on   the   magnet,    and 
thought  it,  of  course,  a  proof  of  the  animation  of  the  earth. 
The  world  is  an  animal,  he  says,  sentient  as  a  whole,  and 
enjoying  life  in  all  its  parts.3     It  is'  not  surprising  that  he 

1  Merchant  of  Venice,  act  v.  que  non  sine  magna  efficere  voluptate  exifl 

z  "  1'rsetervolant  in  conspectu    nostro  timanda  est."  —  1.  iii.  c.  5. 

venti  et  aer,  at  nihil  eos  videmus,  multo  Campanella  used  to  hear,  as  he  tells  us, 

minus    videmus    Angelos    Dseinonasque,  whenever  any  evil  was  impending,  a  voice 

quorum  plenus  est  mundus.  calling  him  by  his  name,  sometimes  with 

"  Infelices  qui   sensum  alium  nullum  other  words :    he  doubted  whether  this 

ugnoscimus,    nisi    obtusum    animalium  were  his  proper  demon,  or  the  air  itself 

pjantarumque,  tardum,   demortuum,  ag-  speaking.     It  is  not  wonderful  that  his 

gnivatum,  sepultum  :  nee  quidem  intelli-  imagination  was  affected  by  length  of  con- 

gere  volumus  omnem  actionem  nostrum  et  finement. 

appetitum  et  sensum  et  motum  et  vim  a  s  "  Mundum  esse  animal,  totum  sen tiena, 

coelo  manare.    Ecce  lux  quanto  acutis-  omnesque  portiones  ejus  conununi  gaii 

siino  expanditur  sensu  super  terram,  quo  dere  vita."  —  1.  i.  c.  9. 
multiplicatur,  generatur,  amplificatur,  id- 


20  HIS  WOEKS  PUBLISHED  BY  ADAM.        PART  HI. 

ascribes  intelligence  to  plants ;  but  he  here  remarks,  that  we 
find  the  male  and  female  sexes  in  them,  and  that  the  latter 
cannot  fructify  without  the  former.  This  is  manifest  in  sili- 
quose  plants  and  in  palms  (which  on  this  account  he  calls  in 
another  place  the  wiser  plants,  plantce  sapientiores),  in  which 
the  two  kinds  incline  towards  each  other  for  the  purpose  of 
fructification.1 

14.  Campanella,  when  he  uttered  from  his  Neapolitan 
His  works  P"8011  these  dulcet  sounds  of  fantasy,  had  the  advan- 
pui.iished  tage  of  finding  a  pious  disciple  who  spread  them  over 
imi'  other  parts  of  Europe.  This  was  Tobias  Adami. 
initiated,  as  he  tells  us,  in  the  same  mysteries  as  himself 
(nostrae  philosophic  symmysta),  who  dedicated  to  the  philoso- 
phers of  Germany  his  own  Prodromus  Philosophise  Instauran- 
dae,  prefixed  to  his  edition  of  Campanella's  Compendium  de 
Rerum  Natura,  published  at  Frankfort  in  1617.  Most  of  the 
other  writings  of  the  master  seem  to  have  preceded  this 
edition ;  for  Adami  enumerates  them  in  his  Prodromus.2 
Campanella  did  not  fully  obtain  his  liberty  till  1629,  and  died 
some  years  afterwards  in  France,  where  he  had  experienced 
the  kindness  of  Peiresc  and  the  patronage  of  Richelieu.  His 
philosophy  made  no  very  deep  impression  :  it  was  too  fanciful, 
too  arbitrary,  too  much  tinctured  with  marks  of  an  imagina- 
tion rendered  morbid  by  solitude,  to  gain  many  proselytes  in 
an  age  that  was  advancing  in  severe  science.  Gassendi, 
whose  good  nature  led  him  to  receive  Campanella,  oppressed 
by  poverty  and  ill  usage,  with  every  courteous  attention,  was, 
of  all  men,  the  last  to  be  seduced  by  his  theories.  No  one, 
probably,  since  Campanella,  aspiring  to  be  reckoned  among 
philosophers,  has  ventured  to  assert  so  much  on  matters  of 
high  speculative  importance,  and  to  prove  so  little.  Yet  he 
seems  worthy  of  the  notice  we  have  taken  of  him,  if  it  were 
only  as  the  last  of  the  mere  dogmatists  in  philosophy.  He  is 
doubtless  much  superior  to  Jordano  Bruno,  and  I  should  pre 
sume,  except  in  mathematics,  to  Cardan.3 

1  "  Inveniemus  in  plantis  sexum  mas-  *  [Prodromus  Philosophise  Tnstaurnndre 

culinum  et  ftemiuinum,  ut  in  animalibus,  is  only  a  titlepage.    Adami  contributed  a 

et  foeminam  non  fruotificare  sine  mascuh  preface  to   this  edition   of   Cainpani'lla's 

congressu.     Hoc   patct  in  siliquis  et   in  work ;  but  the  words  I'rodromus,  &c..  are 

palniin.  quarum  mas  foeminaque  inclinan-  meant  for  the  latter,  and  not  fur  any  thinjj 

tur  mutuo  alter  in  alterum  et  sese  osculan-  written   by   the  editor.      Sec   Notes   and 

tur,  etfoeininaimpregnatur,  nee  fructificat  Queries,  vol.  iv.  p.  275.  — 1853.] 

sine  mare:  immo  conspiciturdolens,squa-  8  Brucker  (vol.  v.  pp.  10(3-144)  has  given 

lida  mortuaque,  et  pulvere  illius  et  odore  a  laborious  analysis  of  the  philosophy  of 

reviriseit."  Campanella. 


CHAP.  HI.  BASSOST  — BERIGARD  -  MAGNEN.  21 

15.  A  less  important  adversary  of  the  established  theory  in 
physics  was  Sebastian  Basson,  in  his  "  Philosophise    Bagg 
Xaturalis  adversus  Aristotelem  Libri  XIL,  in  qui- 

bus  abstrusa  veterum  physiologia  restauratur,  et  Aristotelis 
errores  solidis  rationibus  refelluntur.  Genevas,  1621."  This 
book  shows  great  animosity  against  Aristotle,  to  whom,  what 
Lord  Bacon  has  himself  insinuated,  he  allows  only  the  credit 
of  having  preserved  fragments  of  the  older  philosophers,  like 
pearls  in  mud.  It  is  difficult  to  give  an  account  of  this  long 
work.  In  some  places  we  perceive  signs  of  a  just  philo- 
sophy ;  but  in  general  his  explanations  of  physical  pheno- 
mena seem  as  bad  as  those  of  his  opponents ;  and  he  displays 
no  acquaintance  with  the  writings  and  the  discoveries  of 
his  great  contemporaries.  We  find  also  some  geometrical 
paradoxes  ;  and,  in  treating  of  astronomy,  he  writes  as  if  he 
had  never  heard  of  the  Copernican  system. 

1 6.  Claude  Berigard,  born  at  Moulins,  became  professor  of 
natural  philosophy  at  Pisa  and  Padua.     In  his  Cir- 

culi  Pisani,  published  in  1643,  he  attempted  to 
revive,  as  it  is  commonly  said,  the  Ionic  or  corpuscular  philo- 
sophy of  Anaxagoras,  in  opposition  to  the  Aristotelian. 
The  book  is  rare  ;  but  Brucker,  who  had  seen  it,  seems  to 
have  satisfactorily  repelled  the  charge  of  atheism,  brought  by 
some  against  Berigard.1  Another  Frenchman  domiciled  in 
Italy,  Magnen,  trod  nearly  the  same  path  as  Beri- 
gard ;  professing,  however,  to  follow  the  modification 
of  the  corpuscular  theory  introduced  by  Democritus.2  It 
seems  to  be  observable  as  to  these  writers,  Basson  and  the 
others,  that  coming  with  no  sufficient  knowledge  of  what  had 
recently  been  discovered  in  mathematical  and  experimental 
science,  and  following  the  bad  methods  of  the  universities, 
even  when  they  deviated  from  their  usual  doctrines,  dog- 
matizing and  asserting  when  they  should  have  proved,  ar- 
guing synthetically  from  axioms  and  never  ascending  from 
particular  facts,  they  could  do  little  good  to  philosophy,  ex- 
cept by  contributing,  so  far  as  they  might  be  said  to  have 
had  any  influence,  to  shake  the  authority  of  Aristotle. 

17.  This  authority,  which  at  least  required  but  the  defer- 

1  Brucker,    iv.    460  ;    Niceron,    xxxi.,  misunderstood  the  atomic  theory  of  De- 
where  he  is  inserted  by  the  name  of  Beau-  mocritus,  and  substituted  one  quite  dif- 
regard,   which  is  probably  more  correct,  ferent  in  his  Democritus  Iteviviscens,  pub- 
but  against  usage.                                •  ILshed  in  1046. 

2  Brucker  (p.  504)  thinks  that  Magnen 


22  PARACELSISTS  — THEOSOPHISTS— FLUDD.     PART  HI 

ence  of  modest  reason  to  one  of  the  greatest  of  mankind, 
was  ill  exchanged,  in  any  part  of  science,  for  the 
unintelligible  dreams  of  the  school  of  Paracelsus, 
which  had  many  disciples  in  Germany,  and  a  veiy  few  in 
England.  Germany,  indeed,  has  been  the  native  soil  of  mys- 
ticism in  Europe.  -  The  tendency  to  reflex  observation  of  the 
mind,  characteristic  of  that  people,  has  exempted  them  from 
much  gross  error,  and  given  them  insight  into  many  depths 
of  truth,  but  at  the  expense  of  some  confusion,  some  liability 
to  self-deceit,  and  to  some  want  of  strictness  in  metaphysical 
reasoning.  It  was  accompanied  by  a  profound  sense  of  the 
presence  of  Deity ;  yet  one  which,  acting  on  their  thoughtful 
spirits,  became  rather  an  impression  than  an  intellectual 
judgment,  and  settled  into  a  mysterious  indefinite  theopathy, 
when  it  did  not  even  evaporate  in  Pantheism. 

18.  The  founder,  perhaps,  of  this  sect,  was  Tauler  of 
And  Theo-   Strasburg,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  whose  sermons 
sophists.      jn  the  native  language  —  which,  however,  are  sup- 
posed to  have  been  translated  from  Latin  —  are  full  of  what 
many  have  called  by  the  vague  word  mysticism,  —  an  intense 
aspiration  for  the  union  of  the  soul  with  God.     An  anony- 
mous work  generally  entitled  the  German  Theology,  written 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  pursues  the  same  track  of  devotional 
thought.     It  was  a  favorite  book  with  Luther,  and  was  trans- 
lated into  Latin  by  Castalio.1     These,  indeed,  are  to  be  con- 
sidered chiefly  as   theological ;    but  the  study  of  them  led 
readily  to  a  state  of  mental  emotion,   wherein  a  dogmatic 
pseudo-philosophy,  like  that  of  Paracelsus,   abounding  with 
assertions  that  imposed  on  the  imagination,  and  appealing  fre- 
quently both   to  scriptural   authority  and   the   evidence  of 
inward  'light,    was    sure   to    be    favorably    received.      The 
mystics,    therefore,    and   the    theosophists,    belonged  to   the 
same  class ;  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  use  the  names  indif- 
ferently. 

19.  It  may  appear  not  here  required  to  dwell  on  a  subject 

scarcely  falling  under  any  province  of  literary  his- 
tory ;  but  two  writers  within  this  period  have  been 
sufficiently  distinguished  to  deserve  mention.     One  of  these 
was  Robert  Fludd,  an  English  physician,  who  died  in  1637  ; 
a  man  of  indefatigable  diligence  in  collecting  the  dreams  and 

1  Episoopius  places  the  author  of  the     and  David  George,  among  mere  enthusl- 
emianica,  with  Ilenry  Nicolas     asta. 


CHAP.  HI.  JACOB  BEHMEN.  23 

follies  of  past  ages,  blending  them  in  a  portentotis  combination 
with  new  fancies  of  his  own.  The  Rabbinical  and  Cabalistic 
authors,  as  well  as  the  Paracelsists,  the  writers  on  magic, 
and  whatever  was  most  worthy  to  be  rejected  and  forgotten, 
formed  the  basis  of  his  creed.  Among  his  numerous  works, 
the  most  known  was  his  Mosaic  Philosophy,  in  which,  like 
many  before  his  time  as  well  as  since,  he  endeavored  to 
build  a  scheme  of  physical  philosophy  on  the  first  chapters  in 
Genesis.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  found  there  his  two 
grand  principles  or  forces  of  nature  ;  a  northern  force  of  con- 
densation, and  a  southern  force  of  dilatation.  These  seem  to 
be  the  Parmenidean  cold  and  heat,  expressed  in  a  jargon 
affected  in  order  to  make  dupes.  In  peopling  the  universe 
with  demons,  and  in  ascribing  all  phenomena  to  their  invisi- 
ble agency,  he  pursued  the  steps  of  Agrippa  and  Paracelsus, 
or  rather  of  the  whole  school  of  fanatics  and  impostors  called 
magical.  He  took  also  from  older  writers  the  doctrine  of 
a  constant  analogy  between  universal  nature,  or  the  macro- 
cosm, and  that  of  man,  or  the  microcosm  ;  so  that  what  was 
known  in  one  might  lead  us  to  what  was  unknown  in  the 
other.1  Fludd  possessed,  however,  some  acquaintance  with 
science,  especially  in  chemistry  and  mechanics ;  and  his 
rhapsodies  were  so  far  from  being  universally  contemned 
in  his  own  age,  that  Gassendi  thought  it  not  unworthy  of 
him  to  enter  into  a  prolix  confutation  of  the  Fluddian  phi- 
losophy.2 

20.  Jacob  Behmen,  or  rather  Boehm,  a  shoemaker  of  Gor- 
litz,  is  far  more  generally  familiar  to  our  ears  than  3^0*  Beh- 
his  contemporary  Fludd.  He  was,  however,  much  men- 
inferior  to  him  in  reading,  and  in  fact  seems  to  have  read 
little  but  the  Bible  and  the  writings  of  Paracelsus.  He  re- 
counts the  visions  and  ecstasies  during  which  a  supernatural 
illumination  had  been  conveyed  to  him.  It  came,  indeed, 
without  the  gift  of  transferring  the  light  to  others  ;  for  scarce 
any  have  been  able  to  pierce  the  clouds  in  which  his  meaning 
,  has  been  charitably  presumed  to  lie  hid.  The  chief  work  of 
Behmen  is  his  Aurora,  written  about  1612,  and  containing  a 
record  of  the  visions  wherein  the  mysteries  of  nature  were 

1  This  was  a  favorite  doctrine  of  Para-  qui  est  mare.    Homo  igitur  compendium 

celsus.     Campanella  was  much  too  fanci-  epilogusque  mundi  est.''  —  De  Sensu  Ke 

ful  not  to  embrace  it.     "  Mundus,"  he  rum,  1.  ii.  c.  32. 

«ays,    ''haljet  spiritum   qui  est  coelum,  2  Brucker,  iv.  691 ;  Buhle,  Hi.  157- 
crassum  corpus  quod  est  terra,  sanguinem 


24  LORD  HERBERT.  PART  Ilv 

revealed  to  him.     It  was  not  published  till  1011.     Tie  is 
to   have   been   a   man  of  great   goodness  of  heart,  whir': 
writin"^  display;    but,  in  literature,  this  cannot  give  a  sa 
tion  to  tlie   incoherencies  of  madness.     His  langua;.: 
as  I  have  seen  any  extracts  from  his  works,  is  colored  with 
the  phraseology   of  the  alchemists  and  astrologers  :  as  for  his 
philosophy,  so  tc  style  it,  we  find,  according  to  Brucker,  who 
has  taken  some  pains  with  the  subject,  manifest  traces  of  the 
system  of  emanation,  so  ancient  and  so  attractive  ;  and,  from 
tliis   and  several  other  reasons,  he  is  inclined  to  think  the 
unlearned  shoemaker  of    Gorlitx  must   have   had    assistance 
from  men  of  more  education  in  developing  his  visions.1      But 
the  emanative  theory  is  one  into   which  a  mind  absorbed  in 
contemplation  may  very  naturally  fall.      Behmeu    had    his 
disciples,  which  such  enthusiasts  rarely  want ;   and  his  name 
is  sufficiently  known  to  justify  the  mention  of  it  even  in  phi- 
losophical history. 

21.  We  come  now  to  an  English  writer  of  a  different  class, 
Lord  Her-  l'^e  known  as  such  at  present,  but  who,  without  doing 
bert,  De  much  for  the  advancement  of  metaphysical  philoso- 
Ventate.  p\iy,  foa,^  at  least,  the  merit  of  devoting  to  it,  with  a 
sincere  and  independent  spirit,  the  leisure  of  high  rank,  and 
of  a  life  not  obscure  in  the  world,  —  Lord  Herbert  of  Clu-r- 
bury.  The  principal  work  of  this  remarkable  man  is  his 
Latin  treatise,  published  in  1624,  On  Truth  as  it  is  distin- 
guished from  Revelation,  from  Probability,  from  Possibility, 
and  from  Falsehood.  Its  object  is  to  inquire  what  are  the 
sure  means  of  discerning  and  discovering  truth.  Tin's,  ;i<. 
like  other  authors,  he  sets  out  by  proclaiming,  had  been 
hitherto  done  by  no  one;  and  he  treats  both  ancient  and 
modern  philosophers  rather  haughtily,  as  being  men  tied  to 
particular  opinions,  from  which  they  dare  not  depart.  "  It 
is  not  from  an  hypocritical  or  mercenary  writer  that  we  are 
to  look  for  perfect  truth.  Their  interest  is  not  to  lay  aside 
their  mask,  or  think  for  themselves.  A  liberal  and  independ- 
ent author  alone  will  do  this."2  So  general  an  invective, 
after  Lord  Bacon,  and  indeed  after  others  like  Campanella, 
who  could  not  be  charged  with  following  any  conceits  rather 

1  Brucker,  iv.  698.  terest  ne  personam  deponant,  vel  aliter 

1  uNon  est.igitur  a  larvato  allquo  Tel  quidem  gentiant.     Ingenuus  et  sui  arbi- 

utipendijso  scriptore  ut  verum  consura-  trii  istu  solumiuodo  praestabit  auctor."  — 

ma t uin  opperiaris :   Illorum  apprime  in-  Epist.  ad  Let toraii. 


CHAP.  m.  CONDITIONS  OF  TRUTH,  25 

than  their  own,  bespeaks  either  ignorance  of  philosophical 
:'.ure,  or  a  supercilious  neglect  of  it. 

22.  Lord    Herbert    lays  down  seven   primary  axioms:  — 
i.  Truth  exist*;    2.  It  is  coeval  with  the  things  to  „ 

T  '~  His  axioms. 

which  it  relates  ;  3.  It  exists  everywhere  ;  4.  It  is 
self-evident ; l  5.  There  are  *as  many  truths  as  there  are 
differences  in  things ;  6.  These 'differences  are  made  known 
to  us  by  our  natural  faculties  ;  7.  There  is  a  truth  belonging 
to  these  truths,  — "  Est  veritas  qusedam  harum  veritatum." 
This  axiom  he  explains  as  obscurely  as  it  is  strangely  ex- 
pressed. All  truth  he  then  distinguishes  into  the  truth  of  the 
thing  or  object,  the  truth  of  the  appearance,  the  truth  of  the 
perception,  and  the  truth  of  the  understanding.  The  truth  of 
the  object  is  the  inherent  conformity  of  the  object  with  itself, 
or  that  which  makes  every  thing  what  it  is.2  The  truth  of 
appearance  is  the  conditional  conformity  of  the  appearance 
with  the  object.  The  truth  of  perception  is  the  conditional 
conformity  of  our  senses  (facilitates  nostras  prodromas)  with 
the  appearances  of  things.  The  truth  of  understanding  is  the 
due  conformity  between  the  aforesaid  conformities.  All  truth 
therefore  is  conformity ;  all  conformity,  relation.  Tlrree  tilings 
are  to  be  observed  in  every  inquiry  after  truth,  —  the  thing 
or  object,  the  sense  or  faculty,  and  the  laws  or  conditions  by 
which  its  conformity  or  relation  is  determined.  Lord  Herbert 
is  so  obscure,  partly  by  not  thoroughly  grasping  his  subject, 
.partly  by  writing  in  Latin,  partly  perhaps  by  the  sphalnutfa 
et  errata  in  fi/poyrapho,  qucedam  fortasse  in  setpso,  of  which 
he  complains  at  the  end,  that  it  has  been  necessary  to  omit 
several  sentences  as  unintelligible  ;  though  what  I  have  just 
given  is  far  enough  from  being  too  clear. 

23.  Truth,  he  goes  on  to  say,  exists  as  to  the  object,  or 
outward  thing  itself,  when  our  faculties  are  capable  conditions 
of  determining  every  thing  concerning  it ;  but.  though  of  truth, 
this  definition  is  exact,  it  is  doubtful,  he  observes,  whether 
any  such  truth  exists  in  nature.     The  first  condition  of  dis- 
cerning truth  in  things  is  that  they  should  have  a  relation  to 
ourselves  (ut  intra  nostram  stet  analogiatri)  ;  since  multitudes 
of  things  may  exist  which  the  senses  cannot  discover.     The 

1  "  Haee  veritas  est  in  se  manifesto."  vere  enim  ita  apparebit,   vera  tamen  ex 

He  observes   that   what  are  calJefl  false  veritate  rei  non  erit."' 

appearances  are  true  as  such,  though  not  2   '•  Inhserens  ilia  confonnjtas  rei  cum 

true  according  to  the  reality  of  the  ob-  seipsa,  five  ilia  ratio,  ex  qua  res  uuaquae- 

ject :  "  Sua  veritas  apparentiae  falsa  inest,  que  .-ibi  coiistut  " 


26  DISTINCTIVE  TRUTHS.  PART  m. 

» 

three  chief  constituents  of  this  condition  seem  to  be,  1.  That 
it  should  be  of  a  proper  size,  neither  immense  nor  too  small ; 
2.  That  it  should  have  its  determining  difference,  or  principle 
of  individuation,  to  distinguish  it  from  other  things  ;  3.  That 
it  should  be  accommodated  to  some  sense  or  perceptive  faculty. 
These  are  the  universally  necessary  conditions  of  truth  (that 
is,  of  knowledge)  as  it  regards  the  object.  The  truth  of  ap- 
pearance depends  on  others,  which  are  more  particular;  as 
that  the  object  should  be  perceived  for  a  sufficient  time, 
through  a  proper  medium,  at  a  due  distance,  in  a  proper 
situation.1  Trirth  of  perception  is  conditional  also ;  and  its 
conditions  are  that  the  sense  should  be  sound,  and  the  atten- 
tion directed  towards  it.  Truth  of  understanding  depends  on 
the  KOLvat  evvoiat,  the  common  notions  possessed  by  every  man 
of  sane  mind,  and  implanted  by  nature.  The  understanding 
teaches  us,  by  means  of  these,  that  infinity  and  eternity  exist, 
though  our  senses  cannot  perceive  them.  The  understanding 
deals  also  with  universals;  and  truth  is  known  as  to  uni- 
versals,  when  the  particulars  are  rightly  apprehended. 

24.  Our  faculties  are  as  numerous  as  the  differences  of 
lustinctive  tilings ;  and  thus  it  is,  that  the  world  corresponds  by 
truths.  perfect  analogy  to  the  human  soul,  degrees  of  per- 
ception being  as  much  distinct  from  one  another  as  different 
modes  of  it.  All  our  powers  may,  however,  be  reduced  to 
four  heads ;  natural  instinct,  internal  perception,  external  sen- 
sation, and  reason.  What  is  not  known  by  one  of  these  four 
means  cannot  be  known  at  all.  Instinctive  truths  are  proved 
by  universal  consent.  Here  he  comes  to  his  general  basis  of 
religion,  maintaining  the  existence  of  noivai  ewouu,  or  common 
notions  of  mankind  on  that  subject ;  principles  against  which 
no  one  can  dispute,  without  violating  the  laws  of  his  nature.- 
Natural  instinct  he  defines  to  be  an  act  of  those  faculties 
existing  in  every  man  of  sane  mind,  by  which  the  common 
notions  as  to  the  relations  of  things  not  perceived  by  the 
senses  (rerum  internarum),  and  especially  such  as  tend  to 
the  conservation  of  the  individual,  of  the  species,  and  of  the 

1    Lord    Herbert    defines    appearance,  *  "  Principia  ilia  sacrosancta,    contra 

''  icetypum,  seu  forma  vicaria  rei,   quae  quae  disputare  nefas."  —  p.   44.    I  kuve 

sub  ronditionibus  istis  cum  prototype  suo  translated  this  in  the  beet  sense  I  could 

conformata,  cum  conceptu  deuuo  sub  con-  give  it ;  but  to  use  fas  or  nefas,  before  we 

ditionibus  etiam  suis,  conformari  et  modo  have  defined  their  meaning,    or  proved 

quodam  spiritual!,   tanquam   ab  objecto  their  existence,  is  but  indifferent  logic, 
decisa,  etiam  in  object!  absentia  conser- 
v.-iri  potest." 


CIIAP.  m.  INTERNAL  PERCEPTIONS.  27 

whole,  are  formed  without  any  process  of  reasoning.  These 
common  notions,  though  excited  in  us  by  the  objects  of  sense, 
are  not  conveyed  to  us  by  them :  they  are  implanted  in  us  by 
nature ;  so  that  God  seems  to  have  imparted  to  us  not  only  a 
part  of  his  image,  but  of  his  wisdom.1  And  whatever  is 
understood  and  perceived  by  all  men  alike  deserves  to  be 
accounted  one  of  these  notions.  Some  of  them  are  instinctive, 
others  are  deduced  from  such  as  are.  The  former  are  distin- 
guishable by  six  marks,  —  priority,  independence,  universality, 
certainty,  so  that  no  man  can  doubt  them  without  putting  off, 
as  it  were,  his  nature ;  necessity,  that  is,  usefulness  for  the 
preservation  of  man ;  lastly,  intuitive  apprehension,  for  these 
common  notions  do  not  require  to  be  inferred.2 

25.  Internal  perceptions  denote  the  conformity  of  objects 
with  those  faculties  existing  in  every  man  of  sane   internal 
mind,  which,  being  developed  by   his   natural   in-   perceptions, 
stinct,  are  conversant  with  the  internal  relations  of  things  in 
a  secondary  and  particular  manner,  and  by  means  of  natural 
instinct.3     By  this  ill-worded  definition  he  probably  intends  to 
distinguish  the  general  power,  or  instinctive  knowledge,  from 
its  exercise  and  application  in  any   instance.     But   I   have 
found  it  very  difficult  to  follow  Lord  Herbert.    It  is  by  means, 
he  says,  of  these  internal  senses  that  we  discern  the  nature 
of  things  in  then-  intrinsic  relations,  or  hidden  types  of  being ; 4 
and  it  is  necessary  well  to  distinguish  the  conforming  faculty 
in  the  mind,  or  internal  perception,  from  the  bodily  sense. 
The  cloudiness  of  his  expression  increases  as  we  proceed,  and 
in  many  pages  I  cannot  venture  to  translate  or  abridge  it. 
The  injudicious  use  of  a  language  in  which  he  did  not  write 
with  facility,  and  which  is  not  very  well  adapted,  at  the  best, 
to  metaphysical  disquisition,  has  doubtless  increased  the  per- 
plexity into  which  he  has  thrown  his  readers. 

26.  In  the  conclusion  of  this  treatise,  Herbert  lays  down 
the   five    common  notions  of  natural  religion,  implanted,  as 
he  conceives,  in  the  breasts  of  all  mankind.     1.  That  there 
is  a  God;   2.  That  he  ought  to  be  worshipped;    3.  That  vir- 
tue and  piety  are  the  chief  parts  of  worship;    4.  That  we 

1  P.  48.  circa  analogiam  rerum  internam.  particn- 

2  P.  60.  lariter,  secondario,  et  ratione  instinctua 

3  ''  Sensns  interai  eunt  actus  conformi-    naturalLs  versantur." —  p.  66. 

tatum  objectorum  cum  facultatibus  iliis  *  "  Circa  analogiam  rerom  internam, 
'n  omni  homine  sano  et  integro  existen-  rive  signaturas  et  characteras  rerum  peui- 
tibus,  quae  ab  instinctu  natural!  expositae,  tiores  versantur."  —  p.  68. 


28  FIVE  NOTIONS  OF  NATURAL  RELIGION.     PART  III. 

are  to  tepent,  and  turn  from  our  sins ;  5.  That  there  are  re- 
wards and  punishments  in  another  lite.1  Nothing  can 
.  j"  be  admitted  in  religion  which  contradicts  tiii  s,  pi  i- 
iKitnrai  mary  notions ;  but  if  any  one  has  a  revelation  from 
heaven  in  addition  to  these,  which  may  happen  to 
him  sleeping  or  waking,  he  should  keep  it  to  himself,  since 
nothing  can  be  of  importance  to  the  human  race  which  is  not 
established  by  the  evidence  of  their  common  faculties.  Nor 
can  any  thing  be  known  to  be  revealed  which  is  not  revealed 
to  ourselves ;  all  else  being  tradition  and  historic  testimony, 
which  does  not  amount  to  knowledge.  The  specific  difference 
of  man  from  other  animals,  he  makes,  not  reason,  but  the  capa- 
city of  religion.  It  is  a  curious  coincidence,  that  John  Wesley 
has  said  something  of  the  same  kind.2  It  is  also  remarkable 
that  we  find  in  another  work  of  Lord  Herbert,  De  lleligione 
Gentilium,  which  dwells  again  on  his  five  articles  of  natural 
religion,  essential,  as  he  expressly  lays  it  down,  to  salvation, 
the  same  illustration  of  the  being  of  a  Deity  from  the  analogy 
of  a  watch  or  clock,  which  Paley  has  since  employed.  I 
believe  that  it  occurs  in  an  intermediate  writer.3 

27.  Lord  Herbert  sent  a  copy  of  his  treatise  De  Veritate, 
Remarks  of  several  years  after  its  publication,  to  Gassendi.  We 
Gassendi  on  have  a  letter  to  the  noble  author  in  the  third  volume 
'ert'  of  the  works  of  that  philosopher,  showing,  in  the 
candid  and  sincere  spirit  natural  to  him,  the  objections  that 
struck  his  mind  in  reading  the  book.4  Gassendi  observes  that 
the  distinctions  of  four  kinds  of  truth  are  not  new;  the 
veritas  rei  of  Lord  Herbert  being  what  is  usually  called 

1  P.  222.  ghers,  the  translator  of  this  work,  as  well 

-  I  have  somewhere  read  a  profound  as  of  my  History  of  the  Middle  Ages,  ta  in 

remark  of  Wesley,  that,  considering  the  Cicero  de  Nat.  Deoruin,  ii.  34.     ••  Quod  *i 

sagacity  which  many  animals  display,  we  in  Scythiam  aut  in  Britanniam,   sph;er;un 

cannot  fix  upon  reason  as  the  distinction  aliquis  tulerit  hanc.  quam  miper  I'amilia- 

bctween  them  and  man:    the  true  differ-  ris  noster  effecit  I'o-Mimius  cujus  singuho 

rir-e  is  that  we  are  formed  to  know  God,  conversiones  idem  emcinnt  in  sole,  et  in 

and  they  are  not.  lunS,   et  in   quiuque    stellis    errantil>u>, 

:)  "  Et  quidem  si  horologium  per  diem  quod  efficitur  in  coelo  singulis  diebus   et 

et  noctera  integram  horas  signanter  indi-  noctibus:   quis  in   ilia   barbarie   duhitet.. 

cans,  viderit  quispiam  non  mente  captus,  quin  ea  sphsera   sit    perfecta   rati< .' " 

id  consilio  arteque  summa  factuin  judica-  And,  with  respect  to  intermediate  writers 

verit.     Kcquis    non    plane    demens,    qui  between  Lord  Herbert  and  Paley,  I  have 

h:mc  mundi   machinam  non   per  viginti  been  referred,  by   two  other  ronv<pond- 

quatuor  horas  tantum,  sed  per  tot  saecula  ents,  to  Bale's  Primitive   Origination  of 

i  irci'.itus  suos  obeuntem  animadverterit,  Mankind,  where  I  had  myself  su-peete.l 

non  id  omne  sapientissimo  utique  poten-  it  to  be  ;  and  to   N'ieuwentyt's  Religious 

tisMinoqne  alicui  autori  tribuat?" — De  Philosopher  (English   translation,    1730), 

llclig.  (Jentil.,  cap.  xiii.  p.  xlvi.  of  preface.  — 1842.1 

[The  original  idea,  as  has  been  rightly        *  Gassendi  Opera,  iii.  411. 
pointed  out  to  me  by  M.  Alpbonse  Bor- 


CHAP.  IH.      REMARKS  OF  GASSEXDI  ON  HERBERT.  29 

substance,  his  veritas  apparently  no  more  than  accident,  and 
the  other  two  being  only  sense  and  reason.  Gassendi  seems 
not  wholly  to  approve,  but  gives  as  the  be<t,  a  definition  of 
truth  little  differing  from  Herbert's,  the  agreement  of  the 
cognizant  intellect  with  the  thing  known :  '•  Inteilectus  cog- 
noscentis  cum  re  cognita  congruentia."  The  obscurity  of  the 
treatise  De  Yeritate  could  ill  suit  an  understanding  like  that 
of  Gassendi.  always  tending  to  acquire  clear  conceptions ;  and, 
though  he  writes  with  great  civility,  it  is  not  without  smartly 
opposing  what  he  does  not  approve.  The  aim  of  Lord  Her- 
bert's work,  he  says,  is  that  the  intellect  may  pierce  into  the 
nature  of  things,  knowing  them  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
without  the  fallacies  of  appearance 'and  sense.  But,  for  him- 
self, he  confesses  that  such  knowledge  he  has  always  found 
above  him.  and  that  he  is  in  darkness  when  he  attempts  to 
investigate  the  real  nature  of  the  least  thing ;  making  many 
of  the  observations  on  this  which  we  read  also  in  Locke. 
And  he  well  says,  that  we  have  enough  for  our  use  in  the 
accidents  or  appearances  of  things,  without  knowing  "their 
substances,  in  reply  to  Herbert,  who  had  declared  that  we 
should  be  miserably  deficient,  if,  while  nature  has  given  us 
senses  to  discern  sounds  and  colors  and  such  fleeting  qualities 
of  thiugs,  we  had  no  sure  road  to  internal,  eternal,  and  neces- 
sary truths.1  The  universality  of  those  innate  principles, 
especially  moral  and  religious,  on  which  his  correspondent 
had  built  so  much,  is  doubted  by  Gassendi  on  the  usual 
grounds,  that  many  have  denied  or  been  ignorant  of  them. 
The  letter  is  imperfect,  some  sheets  of  the  autograph  having 
been  lost. 

28.  Too  much  space  may  seem  to  have  been  bestowed  on  a 
writer  who  cannot  be  ranked  high  among  metaphvsicians. 
35ut  Lord  Herbert  was  not  only  a  distinguished  name,  but 
may  claim  the  priority  among  those  -philosophers  in  England. 
If  his  treatise  De  Veritate  is  not,  as  an  entire  work,  very 
successful,  or  founded  always  upon  principles  which  have  stood 
the  test  of  severe  reflection,  it  is  still  a  monument  of  an  origi- 
nal, independent  thinker,  without  rhapsodies  of  imagination, 
without  pedantic  technicalities,  and,  above  all,  bearing  wit 
to  a  sincere  love  of  the  truth  he  sought  to  apprehend.  The. 

1  ••  MLsere  nobiscum  actum  eeset.  si  ad  essent  media,  nulla  autem  ad  reritateu 
percipiendos  colores,  sonos  et  qualitates  Was  internas,  setfrnas,  necesearias  sin* 
caeteraa  caducas  atque  momentaneas  sub-  errore  supervise t  via." 


30  GASSENDI'S  DEFENCE  OF  EPICURUS.         PART  III 

ambitious  expectation  that  the  real  essences  of  things  might 
be  discovered,  if  it  were  truly  his,  as  Gassendi  seems  to  sup- 
pose, could  not  be  warranted  by  any  thing,  at  least,  within  the 
knowledge  of  that  age.  But,  from  some  expressions  of  Herbert, 
I  should  infer  that  he  did  not  think  our  faculties  competent  to 
solve  the  whole  problem  of  quiddity,  as  the  logicians  called  it,  or 
the  real  nature  of  any  tiling,  at  least,  objectively  without  us.1 
He  is,  indeed,  so  obscure,  that  I  will  not  vouch  for  his  entire 
consistency.  It  has  been  an  additional  motive  to  say  as  much 
as  I  have  done  concerning  Lord'  Herbert,  that  I  know  not 
where  any  account  of  his  treatise  De  Veritate  will  be  found. 
Brucker  is  strangely  silent  about  this  writer,  and  Buhle  has 
merely  adverted  to  the  letter  of  Gassendi.  Descartes  has 
spoken  of  Lord  Herbert's  book  with  much  respect,  though 
several  of  their  leading  principles  were  far  from  the  same.  It 
was  translated  into  French  in  1639,  and  this  translation  he 
found  less  difficult  than  the  original.2 

29.  Gassendi  himself  ought,  perhaps,  to  be  counted  wholly 
Gassendi's  amone  ^ue  philosophers  of  this  period ;  since  many  of 
defence  of  his  writings  were  published,  and  all  may  have  been 
'  completed,  within  it.  They  are  contained  in  six 
large  folio  volumes,  rather  closely  printed.  The  Exercita- 
tiones  Paradoxicae,  published  in  1624,  are  the  earliest.  These 
contain  an  attack  on  the  logic  of  Aristotle,  the  fortress  that 
so  many  bold  spirits  were  eager  to  assail.  But,  in  more  ad- 
vanced life,  Gassendi  withdrew  in  great  measure  from  this 
warfare ;  and  his  Logic,  in  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum,  the 
record  of  his  latest  opinions,  is  chiefly  modelled  on  the  Aristo- 
telian, with  sufficient  commendation  of  its  author.  In  the 
study  of  ancient  philosophy,  however,  Gassendi  was  impressed 
with  an  admiration  of  Epicurus.  His  physical  theory,  founded 
on  corpuscles  and  a  vacuum ;  his  ethics,  in  their  principle  and 
precepts;  his  rules  of  logic,  and  guidance  of  the  intellect, — 

1  "  Cum  facilitates  nostrse  ad  analogiam  *  Descartes,  vol.  viii.  pp.  138  and  1(38. 

propriam  terminatsc    quidditates    rerum  "  J'y  trouve  plusieurs  choses  fort  bonnes, 

iritimas  non  penetrent:  ideo  quid  res  na-  sed  non  piMici  saporis ;  car  il  y  a  peu  de 

turalis  in  wipsa  sit,  tali  ex  analogia  ad  nos  personnes  qui  soient  capables  d:entendre 

ut  sit  constituta,  perfecte  sciri  non  potest."  la  metaphysique.     Et,  pour  le  general  du 

—  p.  165.    In  another  place,  he  says  it  is  livre,  il  tient  un  chemin  fort  different  de 

doubtful  whether  any  thing  exist  in  na-  celui  que  j'ai  suivi.  .  .  .  Knfin,  par  con- 

ture,  concerning  which  we  have  a  complete  elusion,  encore  que  je  ne  pulsse  m'accordor 

knowledge.      The  eternal   and  necessary  en  tout  aux  sentimens  de  cet  auteur,  je 

truths  which   Herbert  contends  for  our  ne  laisse  pas  de  1'estimer  beaucoup  au-dft.*- 

knowiug,  seem  to  have  been  his  communes  BUS  des  esprits  ordinaires." 
notilwr^   subjectively    understood,   rather 
than  such  as  relate  to  external  objects. 


CHAP.  m.    HIS  CHIEF  WORKS  AFTER  1650  — BACON.  31 

seemed  to  the  cool  and  independent  mind  of  the  French  phi- 
losopher more  worthy  of  regard  than  the  opposite  schemes 
prevailing  in  the  schools,  and  not  to  be  rejected  on  account  of 
any  discredit  attached  to  the  name.  Combining  with  the  Epi- 
curean physics  and  ethics  the  religious  element  which  had 
been  unnecessarily  discarded  from  the  philosophy  of  the  Gar- 
den, Gassendi  displayed  both  in  a  form  no  longer  obnoxious. 
The  Syntagma  Philosophise  Epicuri,  published  in  1 649,  is  an 
elaborate  vindication  of  this  system,  which  he  had  previously 
expounded  in  a  commentary  on  the  tenth  book  of  Diogenes 
Laertius.  He  had  already  effaced  the  prejudices  against  Epi- 
curus himself,  whom  he  seems  to  have  regarded  with  the 
affection  of  a  disciple,  in  a  biographical  treatise  on  his  life 
and  moral  character. 

30.  Gassendi  died  in  1656:  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum, 
his  greatest  as  well  as  last  work,  in  which  it  is  natu-  ffig  chief 
ral  to  seek  the  whole  scheme  of  his  philosophy,  was   works  after 
published  by  his  friend  Sorbiere  in  1658.     We  may 
therefore  properly  defer  the  consideration  of  his  metaphysical 
writings  to  the  next  period  ;   but  the  controversy  in  which  he 
was  involved  with  Descartes  will  render  it  necessary  to  bring 
his  name  forward  again  before  the  close  of  this  chapter. 


SECTION  JL 

On  the  Philosophy  of  Lord  Bacon. 

31.  IT  may  be  judged  from  what  has  been  said  in  a  former 
chapter,  as  well  as  in  our  last  pages,  that,  at  the  p^p-uaHon 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  higher  for  the  phi- 
philosophy,  which  is  concerned  with  general  truth  losophy 
and  the  means  of  knowing  it,  had  been  little  benefited  by  the 
abors  of  any  modern  inquirer.  It  was  become,  indeed,  no 
strange  thing,  at  least  out  of  the  air  of  a  college,  to  question 
the  authority  of  Aristotle ;  but  his  disciples  pointed  with 
scorn  at  the  endeavors  which  had  as  yet  been  made  to  supplant 
it,  and  asked  whether  the  wisdom  so  long  reverenced  was  to 
be  set  aside  for  the  fanatical  reveries  of  Paracelsus,  the  unin- 


32  LORD  BACON.  PART  III. 

telligible  chimeras  of  Bruno,  or  the  more  plausible  but  arbi- 
trary hypotheses  of  Telesio. 

32.  Francis  Bacon  was  born  in  1561.1     He  came  to  years 

of  manhood  at  the  time  when  England  was  rapidly 

Lord  Bacon.  . 

emerging  from  ignorance  and  obsolete  methods 
of  study,  in  an  age  of  powerful  minds,  full  himself  of  ambition, 
confidence,  and  energy.  If  we  think  on  the  public  history  of 
Bacon,  even  during  the  least  public  portion  of  it,  philosophy 
must  appear  to  have  been  but  his  amusement :  it  was  by  hi» 
hours  of  leisure,  by  time  hardly  missed  from  the  laborious 
study  and  practice  of  the  law  and  from  the  assiduities  of  a 
courtier's  life,  that  he  became  the  father  of  modern  science. 
This  union  of  an  active  with  a  reflecting  life  had  been  the 
boast  of  some  ancients,  —  of  Cicero  and  Antonine ;  but  what 
comparison,  in  depth  and  originality,  between  their  philosophy 
and  that  of  Bacon? 

33.  This  wonderful  man,  in  sweeping  round  the  champaign 
His  plan  of    of  universal  science  with  his  powerful  genius,  found 
philosophy.   ^  little  to  praise  in  the  recent  as  in  the  ancient 
methods  of  investigating  truth.     He  liked  as  little  the  em- 
pirical  presumption   of  drawing   conclusions   from  a  partial 
experience  as  the  sophistical  dogmatism  which  relied  on  un- 
warranted axioms  and  verbal  chicane.     All,  he  thought,  was 
to   be    constructed   anew;    the    investigation   of  facts,    their 
arrangement   for   the   purposes   of  inquiry,    the    process    of 
eliciting   from  them   the   required   truth.     And  for  this   he 
saw,  that,  above  all,  a  thorough  purgation  of  the  mind  itself 
would  be  necessary,  by  pointing  out  its  familiar  errors,  their 
sources  and  their  remedies. 

34.  It  is  not  exactly  known  at  what  age  Bacon  first  con- 
Time  of  its   ceived  the  scheme  of  a  comprehensive  philosophy ; 
conception.  but  j^  wag?  jjy  ]n's  own  account5  very  early  in   life.-' 
Such  noble  ideas  are  most  congenial  to  the  sanguine  spirit  of 

1  Those  who  place  Lord  Bacon's  birth    Greatest  Birth    of   Time.      Baron 

in  1500,  us  Mr.  Montagu  has  done,  must  "Kquidem  mi-mini  me  quailnijnnta  uhh'inc 

be   under-stood  to   follow    the  old  style,  annis  juvenile  opuscuhim   circa   has  res 

which   creates  some  confusion.     He   was  confeci&se,    quod   magna   prorsus   nducia 

1'oni   the  2'2'l  of  January,  ami  died  the  et  iiiHgninco  titulo,  — '  Temporis  Partum 

9th  of  April.  li!2'i,  in  the  sixty-sixth  year  maximum'  iiiM-ripsi."    The  apparent  vain 

of  his  age.  as  we  an;   told  in   his   Life  by  glory  of  this  title  is  somewhat  extenuated 

liawlct  .  the  liest  authority  we  have.  by  thesense  lie  jptvc  to  the  plira.-r,  '    I'irth 

2  In  a  letter  to  Father  rulgentio,  which  of  Time."    lie  meant  that  the  lapse  of  time 
bears  mi   date   in    print,    but  uui<t    have  and    lonj^    ex|>erieiice    were    the    natural 
been  written  about  1024,  he   refers   to  a  sources  of  a  better  philosophy,  as  he  sa\s 
juvenile  work   about  forty   years  before,  in  his  dedication  of  the  Instauratio  Magua : 
which  he  had  confidently  entitled    The  ''  Ipse  certe,  ut  ingenue  fateor,  soleo  eesti- 


CHAP.  m.  LOKD  BACOV  33 

youth,  and  to  its  ignorance  of  the  extent  of  labor  it  under- 
takes. In  the  dedication  of  the  Xovum  Organum  to  James, 
in  1 620,  he  says  that  he  had  been  about  some  such  work  near 
thirty  year?,  '•  so  as  I  made  no  haste."  "  And  the  reason,"  he 
adds,  "  why  I  have  published  it  now,  specially  being  imper- 
fect, is,  to  speak  plainly,  because  I  number  my  days,  and 
would  have  it  saved.  There  is  another  reason  of  my  so 
doing,  which  is  to  try,  whether  I  can  get  help  in  one  intended 
part  of  this  work ;  namely,  the  compiling  of  a  natural  and 
experimental  history,  which  must  be  the  main  foundation 
of  a  true  and  active  philosophy."  He  may  be  presumed  at 
least  to  have  made  a  very  considerable  progress  hi  his  under- 
taking before  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  But  it  was 
first  promulgated  to  the  world  by  the  publication  of  his  Trea- 
tise ou  the  Advancement  of  Learning  in  1605.  In  this,  indeed, 
the  whole  of  the  Baconian  philosophy  may  be  said  to  be  im- 
plicitly contained,  except,  perhaps,  the  second  book  of  the 
is  ovum  Organum.  In  1 623,  he  published  his  more  celebrat- 
ed Latin  translation  of  this  work,  if  it  Ls  not  rather  to  be 
deemed  a  new  one,  entitled  De  Augmentis  Scientiarurn.  I  find, 

mare  hoc  opus  magis  pro  partu  temporis  commit  much  to  paper,  nor  had  planned 

quam  iugenii.    lilud  enim  in  eo  solum-  his  own  method  till  after  he  was  turned  of 

modo  mirabile  est,  initiii  rei,  et  tantas  de  thirty,  which  his  letter  to  the  king  inti 

us  quae  invaluerunt  suspiciones,  alicui  in  mates. 

mentem  Tenure  potuisse.  Caetera  non  illi-  In  a  recent  and  very  brilliant  sketch  of 
benter  sequuntur.''  the  Baconian  philosophy  (Edinb.  Review, 
Xo  treatise  with  this  precise  title  ap-  July,  1837 ).  the  two  leading  principles 
pears.  But  we  find  prefixed  to  some  of  that  distinguish  it  throughout  all  its 
the  short  pieces  a  general  title,  Temporis  parts  are  justly  denominated  utility  and 
Partus  JIaxciilus,  sive  Instauratio  Magna  progress.  To  do  good  to  mankind,  and  do 
Imperii  Universi  in  Humanum.  These  more  and  more  good,  are  the  ethics  of  its 
treatises,  however,  though  earlier  than  inductive  method.  We  may  only  regret, 
his  great  work*,  cannot  be  referred  to  so  that  the  ingenious  author  of  this  article 
juvenile  a  period  as  his  letter  to  Fulgentio  has  been  hurried  sometimes  into  the  low 
intimates  ;  and  I  should  rather  incline  to  and  contracted  view  of  the  deceitful  word 
suspect  that  the  opusculum  to  which  he  utility,  which  regards  rather  the  enjoy- 
there  refers  has  not  been  pre.*erved.  Mr.  ments  of  physical  convenience,  than  the 
Montagu  is  of  a  different  opinion.  See  his  general  well-being  of  the  individual  and 
Note  I.  to  the  Life  of  Bacon  in  vol.  xvi.  of  the  species.  If  Bacon  looked  more  fre- 
iiis  edition.  The  Latin  tract,  De  Interpre-  quently  to  the  former,  it  was  because  so 
tatione  Xaturae,  Mr.  M.  supposes  to  be  the  large  a  portion  of  his  writings  relates  to 
germ  of  the  Instauratio,  as  the  Cogitata  et  physical  observation  and  experiment.  But 
i  re  of  the  Xovuin  Organum.  I  do  it  was  far  enough  from  his  design  to  set 
not  oi.s«eat  from  this  ;  but  the  former  up  physios  in  any  sort  of  opposition  to 
bears  marks  of  having  been  written  after  ethics,  much  less  in  a  superior  light.  I 
Bacon  had  been  immersed  in  active  life,  dissent  also  from  some  of  the  observations 
The  most  probable  conjecture  appears  to  in  this  article,  lively  as  they  are,  which 
be.  that  he  very  early  perceived  the  mea-  tend  to  depreciate  the  originality  and  im- 
greness  ami  imperfection  of  the  academi-  portance  of  the  Baconian  methods.  The 
cal  course  of  philosophy,  and  of  all  others  reader  may  turn  to  a  nose  on  this  sub- 
which  fell  in  his  war,  and  formed  the  ject  by  Dugald  Stewart,  at  the  end  of  the 
scheme  of  affording  something  better  from  present  section, 
bis  own  resources ;  but  that  he  did  not 

VOL.  in.  3 


34  INSTAURATIO  MAGNA— PARTITIONES.       PART  III. 

upou  comparison,  that  more  than  two-thirds  of  this  treatise 
are  a  version,  with  slight  interpolation  or  omission,  from 
the  Advancement  of  Learning;  the  remainder  being  new 
matter. 

35.  The  Instauratio  Magna  had  been  already  published 
irstauratio   in    1620,  while   Lord   Bacon  was   still   chancellor. 
Wagna.        Fifteen  years  had  elapsed  since  he  gave  to  the  world 
his  Advancement  of  Learning,  —  the  first-fruits  of  such  as- 
tonishing  vigor  of  philosophical  genius,  that,   inconceivable 
as  the  completion  of  the  scheme  he  had  even  then  laid  down 
in  prospect  for  his  new  philosophy  by  any  single  effort  must 
appear,  we  may  be  disappointed  at  the  great  deficiencies  which 
this  latter  work  exhibits,  and  which  he  was  not  destined  to  fill 
up.     But  he  had  passed  the  interval  in  active  life,  and  in 
dangerous  paths ;  deserting,  as  in  truth  he  had  all  along  been 
prone  enough  to  do,  the  "  shady  spaces  of  philosophy,"  as 
Milton  calls  them,  for  the  court  of  a  sovereign,  who,  with 
some  real  learning,  was  totally  incapable   of  sounding  the 
depths   of  Lord  Bacon's   mind,  or  even   of  estimating   his 
genius. 

36.  The  Instauratio  Magna,  dedicated  to  James,  is  divided, 

according  to  the  magnificent  groundplot  of  its  author, 
partitlo-  '  into  six  parts.  The  first  of  these  he  entitles  Partitio- 
[^£jen~  nes  Scientiarum,  comprehending  a  general  summary 

of  that  knowledge  which  mankind  already  possess ; 
yet  not  merely  treating  this  affirmatively,  but  taking  special 
notice  of  whatever  should  seem  deficient  or  imperfect ;  some- 
times even  supplying,  by  illustration  or  precept,  these  vacant 
spaces  of  science.  This  first  part  he  declares  to  be  wanting 
in  the  Instauratio.  It  has  been  chiefly  supplied  by  the  trea 
tise  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum ;  yet  perhaps  even  that  does 
not  fully  come  up  to  the  amplitude  of  his  design. 

37.  The  second  part  of  the  Instauratio  was  to  be,  as  he 
Second  part-  expresses  it,  "the  science  of  a  better  and   more- 
Novum  Or-     perfect  use  of  reason  in  the  investigation  of  things, 

and  of  the  true  aids  of  the  understanding ; "  the 
new  logic,  or  inductive  method,  in  which  what  is  eminently 
styled  the  Baconian  philosophy  consists.  This,  as  far  as  he 
completed  it,  is  known  to  all  by  the  name  of  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum.  But  he  seems  to  have  designed  a  fuller  treatise  in 
place  of  this ;  the  aphorisms  into  which  he  has  digested  it 
being  rather  the  heads  or  theses  of  chapters,  at  least  in  many 


CHAP.  HI.    NOVUM  ORGANUM  —  NATURAL  HISTORY.  35 

places,  that  would  have  been  farther  expanded.1  And  it  is 
still  more  important  to  observe,  that  he  did  not  achieve  the 
whole  of  his  summary  that  he  had  promised ;  but,  out  of  nine 
divisions  of  his  method,  we  only  possess  the  first,  which  he  de- 
nominates praerogativce  imtantiarum.  Eight  others,  of  exceed- 
ing importance  to  his  logic,  he  has  not  touched  at  all,  except 
to  describe  them  by  name,  and  to  promise  more.  "  We  will 
speak,"  he  says,  "  in  the  first  place,  of  prerogative  instances ; 
secondly,  of  the  aids  of  induction ;  thirdly,  of  the  rectifica- 
tion of  induction ;  fourthly,  of  varying  the  investigation  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  subject ;  fifthly,  of  prerogative  natures 
(or  objects),  as  to  investigation,  or  the  choice  of  what  shall  be 
first  inquired  into ;  sixthly,  of  the  boundaries  of  inquiry,  or 
the  synoptical  view  of  all  natures  in  the  world ;  seventhly, 
on  the  application  of  inquiry  to  practice,  and  what  relates  to 
man  ;  eighthly,  on  the  preparations  (parascevce)  for  inquiry  ; 
lastly,  on  the  ascending  and  descending  scale  of  axioms."2 
All  these,  after  the  first,  are  wanting,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  slightly  handled  in  separate  parts  of  Bacon's  writings  ; 
and  the  deficiency,  which  is  so  important,  seems  to  have  been 
sometimes  overlooked  by  those  who  have  written  about  the, 
Novum  Organum. 

38.  The  third  part  of  the  Instauratio  Magna  was  to  com 
prise  an  entire  natural  history,  diligently  and  scru-  _, 

11  n      *    J    ^  •  f  i  •    j       Third  part: 

pulously  collected  from  experience  of  every  kind ;  Natural 
including  under  that  name  of  natural  history  every  * 
thing  wherein  the  art  of  man  has  been  employed  on  natural 
substances,  either  for  practice  or  experiment ;  no  method  of 
reasoning  being  sufficient  to  guide  us  to  truth  as  to  natural 
things,  if  they  are  not,  themselves  clearly  and  exactly  appre- 
hended. It  is  unnecessary  to  observe,  that  very  little  of  this 
immense  chart  of  nature  could  be  traced  by  the  hand  of 
Bacon,  or  in  his  tune.  His  Centuries  of  Natural  History, 
containing  about  one  thousand  observed  facts  and  experi- 
ments, are  a  very  slender  contribution  towards  such  a 

1  It  is  entitled  by  himself,  Partis  secun-  dum  est   prius  et   posterius ;    sexto,    de 
dae  Summa,  digesta  in  Aphoristnos.  terminia  inquisitionis,  sive  de  synopsi  om- 

2  "  Dicemus  itaque  primo  loco  de  prse-  nium  naturarum  in  universe;  septimo,  de 
rogativis  instantiarum ;    secundo,  de  ad-  deductione  ad  praxin,  sive  de  eo  quod  eat 
miniculis  inductionis ;  tertio,  de  rectifica-  in  ordine  ad  hominem ;  octavo,  de  para- 
tione  inductionis  ;    quarto,  de  variatione  scevis  ad  inquisitionem  ;  postremo  autem, 
inquisitionis  pro  natura  subjecti ;  quinto,  de  scala  ascensoria  et  descensoria  axioma 
de  prarogativis  naturarum  quatenus  ad  turn." — lib.  ii  22. 

Inquisitionem,  sive  de  eo  quod  inquiren- 


86  SCALA  INTELLECTUS.  PART  III. 

description  of  universal  nature  as  he  contemplated :  these 
form  no  part  of  the  Instauratio  Magna,  and  had  been  com- 
piled before.  But  he  enumerates  one  hundred  and  thirty 
particular  histories  which  ought  to  be  drawn  up  for  his  great 
work.  A  few  of  these  he  has  given  in  a  sort  of  skeleton,  as 
samples  rather  of  the  method  of  collecting  facts,  than  of  the 
facts  themselves  ;  namely,  the  History  of  Winds,  of  Life  and 
Death,  of  Density  and  Rarity,  of  Sound  and  Hearing. 

39.  The  fourth  part,  called  Scala  Intellectus,  is  also  want- 
ing,  with  the  exception  of  a  very  few  introductory 
part :  Scaia  pages.  "  By  these  tables,"  says  Bacon,  "  we  mean, 
inteiiectas.  not  gucj1  exampies  as  we  subjoin  to  the  several  rules 
of  our  method,  but  types  and  models,  which  place  before  our 
eyes  the  entire  process  of  the  mind  in  the  discovery  of  truth, 
selecting  various  and  remarkable  instances." x  These  he  com- 
pares to  the  diagrams  of  geometry,  by  attending  to  which  the 
steps  of  the  demonstration  become  perspicuous.  Though  the 
great  brevity  of  his  language  in  this  place  renders  it  rather  dif- 
ficult to  see  clearly  what  he  understood  by  these  models,  some 
light  appears  to  be  thrown  on  this  passage  by  one  in  the  trea- 
tise De  Augmentis,  where  he  enumerates  among  the  desiderata 
of  logic  what  he  calls  traditio  lampadis,  or  a  delivery  of  any 
science  or  particular  truth  according  to  the  order  wherein  it 
was  discovered.2  "  The  methods  of  geometers,"  he  there  says, 
"  have  some  resemblance  to  this  art ; "  which  is  not,  however, 
the  case  as  to  the  synthetical  geometiy  with  which  we  are 
generally  conversant.  It  is  the  history  of  analytical  investi- 
gation ;  and  many  beautiful  illustrations  of  it  have  been  given 
since  the  days  of  Bacon  in  all  subjects  to  which  that  method 
of  inquiry  has  been  applied. 

1  "  Neque  de   Us   exempli*    loquimur,  Atque  hoc  ipsum    fieri    sane   potest    in 

quae  singulis  prseceptis  ac  regulis  illus-  scientia  per  Snductionem  aoquisH.-i  : 

trandi    gratia  odjiciuntur,  hoc   enim    in  in  anticipata  ista  et  praniiaturu  scientia, 

secunda  opens  parte  abunde  prsestitimus,  qua  utiinur,  non  facile  dicat  quis   quo 

Bed  plane  typos  intelligimus  ac  plasmata,  itinere  ad  earn  quani  nactu.s  est  scifntiam 

qua?  universum  mentis  processum  atque  peryenerit.       Attamen    sane    secundum 

inveniendi  continuatam  fabricam  et  or-  majus  et  minus  possit  quis  srientiam  pro- 

dinem  in  certis  subjectis,  iisque  vnriis  et  priam  reviserc,  et  vestigia  suae  cognitiouia 

insignibufl  tanquam  sub  oculos  ponant.  simul  et  consensus  remetiri ;    atque    hoc 

Kti'iiim  nobis  veuit  in  mentem  in  mathe-  facto  scientiam  sic  transplantare  "r  ani- 

maticis,  astante  machina,  sequi  demon-  mum  alienum,  sicut  crevit  in  suo.  .  .  . 

strationem  facilem  et  perspicuam  ;  contra  Cujus  quidem  generis  traditionis,  metho- 

absque  hac  commoditate  omnia  videri  in-  dus  mathematicorum  in  eo  subjectosiniili- 

voluta  et  qiiiiin  revera  sunt  subtiliora."  tudinem  quandam  habet."     I  do  not  well 

3  Lib.  vi.  c.  2.     "  Scientia  qui»  aliis  tan-  understand  the  words,  in  eo  subjecto:  he 

quam    tela  pertexendo  traditur,    eadem  may  possibly  hare  referred  to  analytical 

methodo,  si  fieri  po.ssit,  animo   alterius  processes. 
est  Lnsinuanda,  qua  primitus  iutenta  est. 


CHAP.  m.  AXTICIPATIOXES.  37 

40.    In  a  fifth  part  of  the  Instauratio  Magna,  Bacon  had 
designed  to  give  a  specimen  of  the  new  philosophy 
which  he  hoped  to   raise,  after  a  due  use  of  his   Anticip^  ' 
natural  history  and   inductive  method,  by  way  of  pones  Phi- 

...  J  ,  f.      ,  ,      ,  T-T  11         •         lOSOphlffi. 

anticipation  or  sample  of  the  whole.  He  calls  it 
Prodromi.  sive  Anticipationes  Philosophise  Secundae.  And 
some  fragments  of  this  part  are  published  by  the  names 
Cogitata  et  Visa.  Cogitationes  de  Xatura  Rerum,  Filum  La- 
byrinthi,  and  a  few  more ;  being  as  much,  in  all  probability, 
as  he  had  reduced  to  writing.  In  his  own  metaphor,  it  was 
to  be  like  the  payment  of  interest  till  the  principal  could  be 
raised  ;  "  tanquam  foenus  reddatur,  donee  sors  haberi  possit." 
For  he  despaired  of  ever  completing  a  work  by  a  gjxthpart- 
sixth  and  last  portion,  which  was  to  display  a  per-  Philosophise 
feet  system  of  philosophy,  deduced  and  confirmed 
by  a  legitimate,  sober,  and  exact  inquiry  according  to  the 
method  which  he  had  invented  and  laid  down.  "  To  perfect 
this  last  part  is  above  our  powers  and  beyond  our  hopes.  We 
may,  as  we  trust,  make  no  despicable  beginnings  :  the  desti- 
nies of  the  human  race  must  complete  it ;  in  such  a  manner, 
perhaps,  as  men,  looking  only  at  the  present,  would  not  readi- 
ly conceive.  For  upon  this  will  depend  not  only  a  specula- 
tive good,  but  all  the  fortunes  of  mankind,  and  all  their 
power."  And,  with  an  eloquent  prayer  that  his  exertions  may 
be  rendered  effectual  to  the  attainment  of  truth  and  hap- 
piness, this  introductory  chapter  of  the  Instauratio,  which 
announces  the  distribution  of  its  portions,  concludes.  Such 
was  the  temple,  of  which  Bacon  saw  in  vision  before  him  the 
stately  front  and  decorated  pediments,  in  all  then*  breadth  of 
light,  and  harmony  of  proportion ;  while  long  vistas  of  receding 
columns,  and  glimpses  of  internal  splendor,  revealed  a  glorv 
that  it  was  not  permitted  him  to  comprehend.  In  the  treatise 
De  Augmentis  Scientiarum.  and  in  the  Novum  Organum,  we 
have  less,  no  doubt,  than  Lord  Bacon,  under  different  con- 
ditions of  life,  might  have  achieved:  he  might  have  been 
more  emphatically  the  high-priest  of  nature,  if  he  had  not 
been  the  chancellor  of  James  I. ;  but  no  one  man  could  have 
filled  up  the  vast  outline  which  he  alone,  in  that  stage  of  the 
world,  could  have  so  boldly  sketched. 

41.  The  best  order  of  studying  the  Baconian  philosophy 
would  be  to  read  attentively  the  Advancement  of  Learning ; 
next,  to  take  the  treatise  De  Augmentis,  comparing  it  all  along 


38  COURSE  OF  STUDYING  LORD  BACON.        PART  IIJ 

with  the  former;  and  afterwards  to  proceed  to  the  Novum 
Cours  f  Organum.  A  less  degree  of  regard  has  usually  been 
studying  paid  to  the  Centuries  of  Natural  History,  which 
Lord  Bacon.  &re  ^  jeas^  important  of  his  writings,  or  even 
to  the  other  philosophical  fragments,  some  of  which  contain 
very  excellent  passages ;  yet  such,  in  great  measure,  as  will 
be  found  substantially  in  other  parts  of  his  works.  The  most 
remarkable  are  the  Cogitata  et  Visa.  It  must  be  said,  that 
one  who  thoroughly  venerates  Lord  Bacon  will  not  disdain 
his  repetitions,  which  sometimes,  by  variations  of  phrase, 
throw  light  upon  each  other.  It  is  generally  supposed  that 
the  Latin  works  were  translated  from  the  original  English  by 
several  assistants,  among  whom  George  Herbert  and  Hobbes 
have  been  named,  under  the  author's  superintendence.1  The 
Latin  style  of  these  writings  is  singularly  concise,  energetic, 
and  impressive,  but  frequently  crabbed,  uncouth,  and  obscure ; 
so  that  we  read  with  more  admiration  of  the  sense,  than  de- 
light in  the  manner  of  delivering  it.  But  Rawley,  in  his 
Life  of  Bacon,  informs  us  that  he  had  seen  about  twelve  au- 
tographs of  the  Novum  Organum,  wrought  up  and  improved 
year  by  year,  till  it  reached  the  shape  in  which  it  was  pub- 
lished ;  and  he  does  not  intimate  that  these  were  in  English, 
unless  the  praise  he  immediately  afterwards  bestows  on 
his  English  style  may  be  thought  to  warrant  that  supposi- 
tion.2 I  do  not  know  that  we  have  positive  evidence  as  to 
any  of  the  Latin  works  being  translations  from  English,  ex- 
cept the  treatise  De  Augmentis. 

42.  The  leading  principles  of  the  Baconian  philosophy  are 
contained  in  the  Advancement  of  Learning.  These  are  am- 
plified, corrected,  illustrated,  and  developed  in  the  treatise 
De  Augmentis  Scientiarum;  from  the  fifth  book  of  which,  with 
some  help  from  other  parts,  is  taken  the  first  book  of  the 
Novum  Organum,  and  even  a  part  of  the  second.  I  use  this 

1  The  translation  was  made,  as  Arch-  eos  perducant.    In  libris  suis  componrn- 
bishop Tenison  informs  us,  "by  Mr.  Her-  dis  verborum  Yigorem  et  perspicuitatcm 
bert  and  some  others  who  were  esteemed  pnecipue  seetabatur,  non  elcpuiriam  aut 
masters  in  the  Roman  eloquence."  concinnitatem  sermonis,  et  inter  s<  ril.cn- 

2  "  Ipce  repcri  in  archivis  dominationis  dum    aut  dietandum   ssepc  intem^avit, 
Buse,   autographa  plus  minus   duodecim  num  scnsu*  ejus  clare  adrnodum  et  per- 
Organ!  N'ovi  de  anno  in  annum  eluborati,  spicu£  redditus  esset?     Quippe  qui  s<  in't 
et  ad  inendem  revocati,  et  sinjrulis  minis,  sequum  esse  lit  verba  flunularenturrebos, 
ulterioii!  lima  subinde  politi  et  castigati,  non  res  yerbis.     Et  si  in  stylum  for.-itan 
donee  in  illud  tandem  corpus  adoleverat,  politiorcm  incidissct,  siquidi-m  apud  nos- 
qno  in  Incvm  editum  fuit;  sicut  multa  ex  trates  eloquii  Ang'icani   artifex    habitus 
animalibus  foetus    lambere    consuescunt  est,   id  evenit,   quia  evitaru  arduum    et 
usque  quo  ad  merobroruin  firmitudinem  erat." 


CHAP.  m.  BACONIAN  INDUCTION.  39 

language,  because,  though  earlier  in  publication,  I  conceive 
that  the  Novum  Orgauum  was  later  in  composition.  All 
that  very  important  part  of  this  fifth  book  which  relates  to 
Experientia  Litterata,  or  Venatio  Panis,  as  he  calls  it,  and 
contains  excellent  rules  for  conducting  experiments  in  natural 
philosophy,  is  new,  and  does  not  appear  in  the  Advancement 
of  Learning,  except  by  way  of  promise  of  what  should  be 
done  in  it.  Nor  is  this,  at  least  so  fully  and  clearly,  to 
be  found  in  the  Novum  Organum.  The  second  book  of  this 
latter  treatise  he  professes  not  to  anticipate.  "  De  Novo 
Organo  silemus,"  he  says,  "neque  de  eo  quicquam  prselibamus." 
This  can  only  apply  to  the  second  book,  which  he  considered 
as  the  real  exposition  of  his  method,  after  clearing  away  the 
fallacies  which  form  the  chief  subject  of  the  first.  Yet  what 
is  said  of  Topica  particularis,  in  this  fifth  book  De  Augmentis 
(illustrated  by  "  articles  of  inquiry  concerning  gravity  and 
levity"),  goes  entirely  on  the  principles  of  the  second  book 
of  the  Novum  Organum. 

43.  Let  us  now  see  what  Lord  Bacon's  method  really  was. 
He  has  given  it  the  name  of  induction,  but  carefully 
distinguishes  it  from  what  bore  that  name  in  the  old  the  Baco- 
logic ;  that  is,  an  inference  from  a  perfect  enumera-   ^ian  .in' 
tion  of  particulars  to  a  general  law  of  the  whole. 
For  such  an  enumeration,  though  of  course   conclusive,   is 
rarely  practicable  in  nature,  where  the  particulars  exceed  our 
powers  of  numbering.1     Nor,  again,  is  the  Baconian  method 

1  "  Inductio  quae  procedit  per  enumera-  into  the  complete  and  incomplete.     "  The 

tionem  simplieem,  res  puerilis  est,  et  pre-  word,"  says  a  very  modern  writer,  ••  is 

cario  conciudit,  et  periculo  exponitur  ab  perhaps  unhappy,  as  indeed  it  is  taken  in 

instantia    contradictoria,    et    plerumque  several  vague  senses  ;  but  to  abolish  it  is 

secundum  pauciora  quam  par  est,  et  ex  impossible.    It  is  the  Latin  translation    of 

his  tantummodo  qujse   praesto  sunt  pro-  ExayuyTJ.  which  word  is  used  bv  \rH- 

nuntiat.    At  inductio  qu»  ad  inventionem  ,       '                                          mSiln^im,?  r 

et  demonstrationem  scientiarum  et  artium  totle  M  a,  counterpart  to   mvUoyi^of. 

rit  utilis,  naturam  separare  debet,   per  He  seems  to  consider  !tm  a  perfect  or  d,a- 

ejectiones    et    exclusions     debitas :     M  lectlc-  a°*  m  au  imperfect  or  rhetorical 

sense.     Thus,  if  a  genus  (G.)  contained 


particulars  in'anv  induction  is  or  may  be  demonstrative  as  syllogism.     But  the  un 

imperfect.     This  is  certainly  the  case'   in  perfect  or  rhetoncal  induction  will  perhaps 

the  plurality  of  physical  inductions  ;   but  enumerate  three  only  of  the  species,  and 

it  does  not  appear  that  the  logical  writers  «Jfn  draw  the  conclusion  concerning  G., 

looked  upon  this  as  the  primary  and  legiti-  wh**  "rtually  includes  the  fourth  ;  op, 

nate  WTUW     Induction  was  disthv.uished  what  »  the  same  thln«'  ^  arKue'  °»* 


40 


BACON. 


PART  TIL 


to  be  confounded  with  the  less  complete  form  of  the  inductive 
process,  namely,  inferences  from  partial  experience  in  similar 


what  is  true  of  the  three  is  to  be  believed 
true  likewise  of  the  fourth."  —  Newman's 
Lectures  on  Logic,  p.  73.  (1837.)  The 
same  distinction  between  perfect  and  im- 
perfect induction  is  made  in  the  Ency- 
clopedic Franchise,  art.  ';  Induction,"  and 
apparently  on  the  authority  of  the  an- 
cients. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  this  imperfect 
induction  may  be  put  in  a  regular  logical 
form,  and  is  only  vicious  in  syllogistic 
reasoning  when  the  conclusion  asserts  a 
higher  probability  than  the  premises.  If, 
for  example,  we  reason  thus :  Some  ser- 
pents are  venomous.  —  This  unknown 
animal  is  a  serpent.  —  Therefore  this  is 
venomous :  we  are  guilty  of  an  obvious 
paralogism.  If  we  infer  only.  This  may 
be  venomous,  our  reasoning  is  perfectly 
valid  in  itself,  at  least  in  the  common  ap- 
prehension of  all  mankind,  except  dialec- 
ticians, but  not  regular  in  form.  The 
only  means  that  I  perceive  of  making  it 
so,  is  to  put  it  in  some  such  phrase  as  the 
following :  All  unknown  serpents  are  af- 
fected by  a  certain  probability  of  being 
venomous  :  This  annual,  &c.  It  is  not 
necessary,  of  course,  that  the  probability 
should  be  capable  of  being  estimated,  pro- 
vided we  mentally  conceive  it  to  be  no 
other  in  the  conclusion  than  in  the  major 
term.  In  the  best  treatises  on  the  strict 
or  syllogistic  method,  as  far  as  I  have  seen, 
there  seems  a  deficiency  in  respect  to 
probable  conclusions,  which  may  have  ari- 
sen from  the  practice  of  taking  instances 
from  universal  or  necessary,  rather  than 
contingent  truths,  as  well  as  from  the 
contracted  views  of  reasoning  which  the 
Aristotelian  school  have  always  incul- 
cated. No  sophisms  are  so  frequent  in 
practice  as  the  concluding  generally  from 
a  partial  induction,  or  assuming  (most 
commonly  tacitly)  by  what  Archbishop 
Whately  calls  "  a  kind  of  logical  fiction," 
that  a  few  individuals  are  "  adequate  sam- 
ples or  representations  of  the  class  they 
Belong  to."  These  sophisms  cannot,  in 
he  present  state  of  tilings,  be  practised 
argely  in  physical  science  or  natural  his- 
tory ;  but,  in  reasonings  on  matter  of  fact, 
they  are  of  incessant  occurrence.  The 
'•  logical  fiction  "  may  indeed  frequently 
bo  employed,  even  on  subjects  unconnect- 
ed with  the  physical  laws  of  nature :  but 
to  know  when  this  may  be,  and  to  what 
extent,  is  just  that  which,  far  more  than 
any  other  skill,  distinguishes  what  is  called 
»  good  rensoner  from  a  bad  one. 

f  1  permit  this  note  to  remain  as  in  form- 
er editions  ;  but  it  might  have  been  more 
fully  and  more  correctly  expressed.  The 
proper  nature  of  induction  has  been  treat- 


ed within  a  few  years  by  Sir  William  Ham- 
ilton (Edinburgh  Review,  vol.  Mi.);  by 
Archbishop  \Vhately  in  hi- 
Logic  ;  by  the  author  of  the  article  '•  Or 
ganon  "  in  the  Penny  <'\elopa'iiia  :  by  M. 
de  Kemusat,  Essais  de  Philosophic,  vol.  ii. 
p.  408;  by  Dr.  Whewell  in  the  History, 
and  again  in  the  Philosophy  of  the  In- 
ductive Sciences  ;  and  by  Mr.  Mill,  Sys- 
tem of  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  352.  The  appa- 
rently various  opinions  of  these  writers, 
though  in  some  degree  resolving  them- 
selves into  differences  of  definition,  deserve 
attention  from  the  philosophical  reader ; 
but  it  would  be  rather  too  extraneous  from 
the  character  of  the  present  work  to 
examine  them.  I  will  only  observe,  that 
what  has  been  called  perfect  induction, 
or  a  complete  enumeration  of  particulars, 
is  as  barren  of  new  truth  as  the  syllogism 
itself,  to  which  indeed,  though  with  some 
variety  in  the  formal  rules,  it  properly  be- 
longs. For  If  we  have  already  enumerated 
all  species  of  fish,  and  asserted  them  to  be 
cold-blooded,  we  advance  not  a  step  by 
saying  this  again  of  a  herring  or  a  haddock. 
Mr.  Mill,  therefore,  has  well  remarked, 
that  "Induction  is  a  process  of  inference: 
it  proceeds  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known ;  and  any  operation  involving  no 
inference,  any  process  in  which  what  seems 
the  conclusion  is  no  wider  than  the  pre- 
mises from  which  it  is  drawn,  does  not  Ml 
within  the  meaning  of  the  term."  —  S\  -- 
tern  of  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  352.  But  this 
inference  is  only  rendered  logically  conclu- 
sive, or  satisfactory  to  the  reason,  as  any 
thing  more  than  a  probable  argument,  by 
means  of  a  generalization  which  assumes, 
on  some  extra-logical  ground,  such  as  the 
uniformity  of  physical  laws,  that  the  par- 
tial induction  might  have  been  rendered 
universal.  If  the  conclusion  contains 
more  than  the  premises  imply,  it  L<  mani- 
festly fallacious.  But  that  the  indurtive 
syllogism,  6  ££  ^Traywyifr  avydoyto/Liof 
(Analyt.  Prin.,  1.  ii.  c.  23),  can  on! 
in  form,  to  probable  conclusions,  even 
though  the  enumeration  should  be  com- 
plete, appears  from  its  being  in  the  third 
figure  ;  though  after  a  general  principle  is 
mice  established  by  induction,  when  we 
come  to  apply  it  in  new  cases,  the  process 
will  be  in  the  first.  Archbishop  Whatfly 
and  Sir  \V.  Hamilton  only  differ  in  appear- 
ance as  to  this,  since  they  look  to  differ- 
ent periods  of  reasoning :  one,  in  which 
experience  is  generalized  by  the  assump- 
tion of  something  unproved  ;  another,  in 
which  a  particular  case  is  shown  to  fall 
within  the  generalization.  But  the  second 
is  not  the  induction  of  Aristotle.  What 


CHAP.  III.  BACONIAN  INDUCTION  41 

circumstances ;  though  this  may  be  a  very  sufficient  ground 
for  practical,  which  is  probable,  knowledge.  His  own  method 
rests  on  the  same  general  principle,  namely,  the  uniformity 
of  the  laws  of  nature,  so  that,  in  certain  conditions  of  pheno- 
mena, the  same  effects  or  the  same  causes  may  be  assumed ; 
but  it  endeavors  to  establish  these  laws  on  a  more  exact  and 
finer  process  of  reasoning  than  partial  experience  can  effect. 
For  the  recurrence  of  antecedents  and  consequents  does  not 
prove  a  necessary  connection  between  them,  unless  we  can 
exclude  the  presence  of  all  other  conditions  which  may  deter- 
mine the  event.  Long  and  continued  experience  of  such  a 
recurrence,  indeed,  raises  a  high  probability  of  a  necessary 
connection:  but  the  aim  of  Bacon  was  to  supersede  experience 
in  this  sense,  and  to  find  a  shorter  road  to  the  result ;  and  for 
this  his  methods  of  exclusion  are  devised.  As  complete  and 
accurate  a  collection  of  facts,  connected  with  the  subject  of 
inquiry,  as  possible,  is  to  be  made  out  by  means  of  that  copious 
natural  history  which  he  contemplated,  or  from  any  other 
good  sources.  These  are  to  be  selected,  compared,  and  scru- 
tinized, according  to  the  rules  of  natural  interpretation  deli- 
vered in  the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Organum,  or  such 
others  as  he  designed  to  add  to  them ;  and,  if  experiments  are 
admissible,  these  are  to  be  conducted  according  to  the  same 
rules.  Experience  and  observation  are  the  guides  through 
the  Baconian  philosophy,  which  is  the  handmaid  and  inter- 
preter of  nature.  When  Lord  Bacon  seems  to  decry  experi- 
ence, which  in  certain  passages  he  might  be  thought  to  do,  it 
is  the  particular  and  empirical  observation  of  individuals,  from 
which  many  rash  generalizations  had  been  drawn,  as  opposed 
to  that  founded  on  an  accurate  natural  history.  Such  hasty 
inferences  he  reckoned  still  more  pernicious  to  true  knowledge 

this  was,   I   find    nowhere  more  neatly  of  perfect  induction,  which  produces  cer- 

delivered   than  in  an  Arat>ic  treatise  on  tainty. 

logic,  published,  with  a  translation,  in  the  "  It  is  imperfect  induction  when,  a  num- 
eighth  volume  of  the  Asiatic  Researches.  her  of  individuals  of  a  class  being  over- 
•'  Induction  is  the  process  of  collecting  looked  or  excluded,  a  general  rule  is  thus 
particulars  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  established  respecting  the  whole.  Yot 
a  general  rule  respecting  the  nature  of  instance,  if  it  should  be  assumed  that  all 
the  whole  class.  Induction  is  of  two  animals  move  the  under-jaw  in  eating, 
kinds:  viz..  perfect  and  imperfect.  It  is  because  this  is  the  case  with  man,  horses, 
perfect  induction  when  the  general  rule  goats,  and  sheep,  this  would  be  an  exam- 
is  obtained  from  an  examination  of  all  the  pie  of  imperfect  induction,  which  does 
parts.  For  example,  all  animals  are  either  not  afford  certainty,  because  it  is  pos.-il>I« 
endowed  with  speech,  or  not  endowed  with  that  some  animals  may  not  move  the 
speech.  But  those  endowed  and  those  not  under-jaw  in  eating,  as  it  is  reported  ot 
endowed  are  both  sentient;  therefore  all  the  crocodile."  —  p.  127.  — 1847.] 
animals  are  sentient.  This  is  an  example 


42  BAC03S.  PART  III. 

than  the  sophistical  methods  of  the  current  philosophy ;  and 
in  a  remarkable  passage,  after  censuring  this  precipitancy  of 
empirical  conclusions  in  the  chemists,  and  in  Gilbert's  Trea- 
tise on  the  Magnet,  utters  a  prediction,  that  if  ever  mankind, 
excited  by  his  counsels,  should  seriously  betake  themselves  to 
seek  the  guidance  of  experience,  instead  of  relying  on  the 
dogmatic  schools  of  the  sophists,  the  proneness  of  the  human 
mind  to  snatch  at  general  axioms  would  expose  them  to  much 
risk  of  error  from  the  theories  of  this  superficial  class  of 
philosophers.1 

44.  The   indignation,   however,   of  Lord  Bacon   is   more 
His  dislike     frequently  directed  against  the  predominant  philoso- 
of  Aristotle.   phv  of  jjjg  age^  that  of  Aristotle  and  the  schoolmen. 
Though  he  does  justice  to  the  great  abilities  of  the  former, 
and  acknowledges  the  exact  attention  to  facts  displayed  in  his 
History  of  Animals,  he  deems  him  one  of  the  most  eminent 
adversaries  to  the  only  method  that  can  guide  us  to  the  real 
laws  of  nature.      The  old  Greek  philosophers,  Empedocles, 
Leucippus,   Anaxagoras,  and  others  of  their  age,  who  had 
been  in  the  right  track  of  investigation,  stood  much  higher  in 
the  esteem  of  Bacon  than  their  successors,  Plato,  Zeno,  Aris- 
totle, by  whose  lustre  they  had  been  so  much  superseded,  that 
both   their   works   have  perished,  and  their  tenets  are  with 
difficulty  collected.     These  more  distinguished  leaders  of  the 
Grecian  schools  were  in  his  eyes  little  else  than  disputatious 
professors  (it  must  be  remembered  that  he  had  in  general 
only  physical  science  in  his  view),  who  seemed  to  have  it  in 
common  with  children,  "  ut  ad  garriendum  prompt!  sint,  gene- 
rare  non  possint;"  so  wondy  and  barren  was  their  miscalled 
wisdom. 

45.  Those  who  object  to  the  importance  of  Lord  Bacon's 
His  method  PreceP^  ln  philosophy,  that  mankind  have  practised 
much  re-     many  of  them  immemorially,  are  rather  confirming 
quired.        their  utility  than  taking  off  much  from  their  origin- 
ality, in  any  fair  sense  of  that  term.     Every  logical  method 
is  built  on  the  common  faculties  of  human  nature,  which  have 
been   exercised   since   the   creation  in  discerning,  better  or 
worse,  truth  from  falsehood,  and  inferring  the  unknown  from 
the  known.     That  men  might  have  done  this  more  correctly 
is  manifest  from  the  quantity  of  error  into  which,  from  want 

1  Nov.  Organ.,  lib.  i.  64.     It  may  be  doubted  whether  Bacon  did  fliT  justice  to 

Gilbert. 


CHAP.  m.  fflS  PHILOSOPHICAL  WRITINGS.  43 

of  reasoning  well  on  what  came  before  them,  they  have  habi- 
tually fallen.  In  experimental  philosophy,  to  which  the  more 
special  rules  of  Lord  Bacon  are  generally  referred,  there  was 
a  notorious  want  of  that  very  process  of  reasoning  which  he 
has  supplied.  It  is  more  than  probable,  indeed,  that  the  great 
physical  philosophers  of  the  seventeenth  century  would  have 
been  led  to  employ  some  of  his  rules,  had  he  never  promul- 
gated them ;  but  I  believe  they  had  been  little  regarded  in 
the  earlier  period  •  of  science.1  It  is  also  a  veiy  defective 
view  of  the  Baconian  method  to  look  only  at  the  experimental 
rules  given  in  the  Novum  Organum.  The  preparatory  steps 
of  completely  exhausting  the  natural  history  of  the  subject  of 
inquiry  by  a  patient  and  sagacious  consideration  of  it  in  every 
light  are  at  least  of  equal  importance,  and  equally  prominent 
in  the  inductive  philosophy. 

46.  The  first  object  of  Lord  Bacon's  philosophical  writings 
is  to  prove  their  own  necessity,  by  giving  an  unfa-  T 

,    J        J    *?         °         .,  Its  objects 

vorable  impression  as  to  the  actual  state  of  most 
sciences,  in  consequence  of  the  prejudices  of  the  human  mini, 
and  of  the  mistaken  methods  pursued  in  their  cultivation. 
The  second  was  to  point  out  a  better  prospect  for  the  future. 
One  of  these  occupies  the  treatise  De  Augmentis,  and  the 
first  book  of  the  Xovum  Organum.  The  other,  besides  many 
anticipations  in  these,  is  partially  detailed  in  the  second  book, 
and  would  have  been  more  thoroughly  developed  in  those 
remaining  portions  which  the  author  did  not  complete.  We 
shall  now  give  a  very  short  sketch  of  these  two  famous  works, 
which  comprise  the  greater  part  of  the  Baconian  philosophy. 

47.  The   Advancement  of  Learning  is  divided  into  two 
books  only ;    the  treatise  De  Augmentis,  into  nine. 

The  first  of  these,  in  the  latter,  is  introductory,  and  the  treats 
designed   to  remove  prejudices  against  the  search  ^e^^' 
after  truth,  by  indicating  the  causes  which  had  hith- 
erto obstructed  it.    In  the  second  book,  he  lays  down  his  cele- 
brated partition  of  human  learning  into  history,  poetry,  and 
philosophy,  according  to  the  faculties  of  the  mind 
respectively  concerned  in  them,  —  the  memory,  ima- 
gination, and  reason.     History  is  natural  or  civil,  under  the 
latter  of  which  ecclesiastical  and  literary  histories  are  com- 

1  It  has  been  remarked,  that  the  fa-  elevation,  was  "a  crucial  instance,  one  of 
mous  experiment  of  Pascal  on  the  baro-  the  first,  if  not  the  very  first,  on  record  in 
meter,  by  carrying  it  to  a  considerable  physics."  —  Herschel,  p.  229. 


44  BACON.  PART  TIL 

prised.  These  again  fall  into  regular  subdivisions ;  all  of 
which  he  treats  in  a  summary  manner,  and  points  out  the 
deficiencies  which  ought  to  be  supplied  in  many  departments 
of  history.  Poetry  succeeds  in  the  last  chapter  of 
the  same  book ;  but  by  confining  the  name  to  ficti- 
tious narrative,  except  as  to  ornaments  of  style,  which  he 
refers  to  a  different  part  of  his  subject,  he  much  limited  his 
views  of  that  literature  ;  even  if  it  were  true,  as  it  certainly 
is  not,  that  the  imagination  alone,  in  any  ordinary  use  of  the 
word,  is  the  medium  of  poetical  emotion.  The  word  "  emo- 
tion," indeed,  is  sufficient  to  show  that  Bacon  should  either 
have  excluded  poetry  altogether  from  his  enumeration  of 
sciences  and  learning,  or  taken  into  consideration  other  facul- 
ties of  the  soul  than  those  which  are  merely  intellectual. 

48.  Stewart  has  praised  with  justice  a  short  but  beautiful 
Fine  pas-     paragraph  concerning  poetry  (under  which  title  may 
sage  on       be  comprehended  all  the  various  creations  of  the 

faculty  of  the  imagination,  at  least  as  they  are  mani- 
fested by  words),  wherein  Bacon  uhas  exhausted  every  thing 
that  philosophy  and  good  sense  have  yet  had  to  offer  on  the 
subject  of  what  has  since  been  called  the  beau  ideal"  The 
same  eminent  writer  and  ardent  admirer  of  Bacon  observes, 
that  D'Alembert  improved  on  the  Baconian  arrangement  by 
classing  the  fine  arts  together  with  poetry.  Injustice  had 
been  done  to  painting  and  music,  especially  the  former,  when, 
in  the  fourth  book  De  Augmentis,  they  were  counted  as  mere 
artes  voluptariee,  subordinate  to  a  sort  of  Epicurean  grati- 
fication of  the  senses,  and  only  somewhat  more  liberal  than 
cookery  or  cosmetics. 

49.  In  the  third  book,  science  having  been  divided   into 
Natural       theological  and   philosophical,   and   the   former,    or 
theology      what  regards  revealed  religion,  being  postponed  for 
physics,      the  present,  he  lays  it  down   that  all   philosophy 

relates  to  God,  to  nature,  or  to  man.  Under  natural 
theology,  as  a  sort  of  appendix,  he  reckons  the  science  or 
theory  of  angels  and  superhuman  spirits ;  a  more  favorite 
theme,  especially  as  treated  independently  of  revelation,  in  the 
ages  that  preceded  Lord  Bacon,  than  it  has  been  since.  Natu- 
ral philosophy  is  speculative  or  practical ;  the  former  divided 
into  physics,  in  a  particular  sense,  and  metaphysics :  "  one 
of  which  inquireth  and  handleth  the  material  and  efficient 
causes ;  the  other  handleth  the  formal  and  final  causes." 


CHAP.  m.  METAPHYSICS.  45 

Hence  physics,  dealing  with  particular  instances,  and  regard- 
ing only  the  effects  produced,  is  precarious  in  its  conclusions, 
and  does  not  reach  the  stable  principles  of  causation. 

"  Lamas  ut  hie  durescit,  et  haec  at  cera  li.juescit 
Uno  eodemque  igni.r> 

Metaphysics,  to  which  word  he  gave  a  sense  as  remote  from 
that  which  it  bore  in  the  Aristotelian  schools  as  from  that  in 
which  it  is  commonly  employed  at  present,  had  for  its  proper 
object  the  investigation  of  forms.  It  was  il  a  generally 
received  and  inveterate  opinion,  that  the  inquisition  of  man  is 
not  competent  to  find  out  essential  forms  or  true  differences." 
'•  Formae  inventio,"  he  says  in  another  place,  "  habetur  pro 
desperata."  The  word  form  itself,  being  borrowed  from  the 
old  philosophy,  is  not  immediately  intelligible  to  every  reader. 
"  In  the  Baconian  sense,"  says  Playfair,  "  form  differs  Form  of 
only  from  cause  in  being  permanent,  whereas  we  bodies 
apply  cause  to  that  which  exists  in  order  of  tune."  Form 
(natura  natura/u,  as  it  was  barbarously  called)  is  the  general 
law,  or  condition  of  existence,  in  any  substance  or  quality 
(natura  natu.rata),  which  is  wherever  its  form  is.1  The  con- 
ditions of  a  mathematical  figure,  prescribed  in  its  definition, 
might  in  this  sense  be  called  its  form,  if  it  did  not  seem  to  be 
Lord  Bacon's  intention  to  confine  the  word  to  the  laws  of 
particular  sensible  existences.  In  modern  philosophy,  it 
might  be  defined  to  be  that  particular  combination  of  forces 
which  impresses  a  certain  modification  upon  matter  subjected 
to  their  influence. 

50.  To  a  knowledge  of  such  forms,  or  laws  of  essence  and 
existence,  at  least  in  a  certain  degree,  it  might  be  >E^ht  ama^ 
possible,  in  Bacon's  sanguine  estimation  of  his  own  times  be  in- 
logic,  for  man  to  attain.  Xot  that  we  could  hope  to  qmr 
understand  the  forms  of  complex  beings,  which  are  almos' 
infinite  in  variety,  but  the  simple  and  primary  natures,  which 
are  combined  in  them.  "  To  inquire  the  form  of  a  h'on,  of  an 
oak,  of  gold,  nay,  of  water,  of  air,  is  a  vain  pursuit ;  but  to 
inquire  the  forms  of  sense,  of  voluntary  motion,  of  vegetation, 
of  colors,  of  gravity  and  levity,  of  density  and  tenuity,  of 
neat,  of  cold,  and  all  other  natures  and  qualities,  which,  like 

1  "  Licet  enim  in  nature  nihil  rere  exis-  est  tarn  ad  sciendum  quam  operandum. 

tat  prater  corpora  inJivi.lua,  edentia  ac-  Earn  autem  legem  ejus-que  paragraphos 

tus  puros  individuos  ex  lege,  in  doctrinis  Formarum  nomine  intelligimus  :  pra;s«r- 

tamen  ilia  ipsa  lex.  ejusque  inquisitio,  et  tim  com   hoc   Yocabulum    inralnerit   el 

invenlU  adjue  explicatio  pro  fmulamento  familiaiitar  occurrat."  —  NOT.  Org.,  U.  2. 


46 


BACON. 


PART  III. 


an  alphabet,  are  not  many,  and  of  Avhich  the  essences,  upheld 
by  matter,  of  all  creatures  do  consist,  —  to  inquire,  I  say,  the 
true  forms  of  these  is  that  part  of  metaphysics  which  we  now 
define  of."1  Thus,  in  the  words  he  soon  afterwards  uses,  "of 
natural  philosophy,  the  basis  is  natural  history ;  the  stage 
next  the  basis  is  physic ;  the  stage  next  the  vertical  point  is 
metaphysic.  As  for  the  vertical  point,  '  Opus  quod  operatur 
Deus  a  principio  usque  ad  finem,'  the  summary  law  of  nature, 
we  know  not  whether  man's  inquiry  can  attain  unto  it."2 

51.  The  second  object  of  metaphysics,  according  to  Lord 
Final  causes  Bacon's  notion  of  the  world,  was  the  investigation  of 
too  much  final  causes.  It  is  well  known  that  he  has  spoken 
of  this  in  physics,  with  unguarded  disparagement.3 
"Like  a  virgin  consecrated  to  God,  it  bears  nothing;"  one 
of  those  witty  conceits  that  sparkle  over  his  writings,  but  will 
not  bear  a  severe  examination.  It  has  been  well  remarked, 
that,  almost  at  the  moment  he  published  this,  one  of  the  most 
important  discoveries  of  his  age,  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 


1  In  the  Novum  Organum  he  seems  to 
have  gone  a  little  beyond  this,   and  to 
have  hoped  that  the  form  itself  of  concrete 
things  might  be  known.     "  Datae  autem 
naturae  fonnam,  sive  differentiam  veram, 
Hive   naturitm  naturantem,    sive    fontem 
einanationis  (ista  mini  vocabula  habeinus, 
quse  ad  indicationem  rei   proximo  acce- 
dunt),  invenire  opus  et  inteutio  est  IIu- 
nianee  Scientiae." —  Lib.  ii.  1. 

2  Advancement  of  Learning,  book  ii. 
This  sentence  he  has  scarcely  altered  in 
the  Latin. 

8  "  Causa  flnalis  tantum  abest  ut  prosit, 
utetiamscientiascorrumpat,  nisi  in  homi- 
nis  actionibus."  —  Nov.  Org.,  ii.  2.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  Bacon  had  good  reason 
to  deprecate  the  admixture  of  theological 
dogmas  with  philosophy,  which  had  been, 
and  has  often  since  been,  the  absolute  per- 
version of  all  legitimate  reasoning  in 
science.  See  what  Stewart  has  said  upon 
Lord  Bacon's  objection  to  reasoning  from 
final  causes  in  physics.  Philosophy  of  the 
Active  and  Moral  Powers,  book  iii.  chap, 
ii  sect.  4. 

[It  ought  to  be  more  remembered  than 
sometimes  it  has  been,  that  Bacon  solely 
objects  to  the  confusion  of  final  with 
efficient  causes,  or,  as  some  would  say, 
with  antecedent  conditions.  These  nlone 
he  considered  to  fall  within  the  province 
of  physics.  But,  as  a  part  of  metaphysi- 
cal theology,  he  gives  the  former  here  a 
place.  Stewart  has  quoted  at  length  the 
passage,  which  entirely  vindicates  Bacon 
from  the  charge  of  depreciating  the  argu- 


ment in  favor  of  theism  from  the  structure 
of  the  world ;  a  charge  not  uncommonly 
insinuated  against  him  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  repeated  lately  with  the 
most  dogmatic  violence  by  a  powerful 
writer,  Count  do  Maistre.  Examen  de  la 
1'hilos.  de  Bacon,  c.  13,  et  alibi.  Urux- 
elles,  1838.  This  work,  little  known  per- 
haps in  England,  is,  from  beginning  to  cinl, 
a  violent  attack  upon  the  Baconian  philo- 
sophy and  its  author,  by  a  man  of  ex 
traordinary  vigor  as  a  polemical  writer, 
quick  to  discover  any  weak  point,  and 
powerful  to  throw  upon  it  the  light  of  a 
remarkably  masculine  and  perspicuous 
style;  second  only  perhaps  in  these  re- 
spects to  Bossuet,  or  rather  only  falling 
short  of  him  in  elegance  of  language ; 
but,  like  him,  a  mere  sworn  soldier  of 
one  party,  utterly  destitute  of  an  eclectic 
spirit  in  his  own  philosophy,  or  even  of 
the  power  of  appreciating  with  ordinary 
candor  the  diversities  of  opiuion  in  others  ; 
repulsive,  therefore,  not  only  to  all  who 
have  looked  with  reverence  upon  those 
whom  he  labors  to  degrade,  but  to  all  who 
abhor  party-spirit  in  the  research  of  truth ; 
yet  not  unworthy  to  be  read  even  by 
them,  since  he  has  many  just  criticisms, 
and  many  acute  observations ;  such,  how- 
ever, as  ought  always  to  be  tried  by  com- 
parison with  the  text  of  Bacon,  whom  he 
may  not  designedly  have  misrepresented, 
but,  having  set  out  with  the  conviction 
that  he  was  a  charlatan  and  an  atheist,  lie 
naturally  is  led  to  exhibit  in  no  other 
light.  — 1847.] 


CHAP.  m.  METAPHYSICS  — LOGIC.  47 

had  rewarded  the  acuteness  of  Harvey  in  reasoning  on  the 
final  cause  of  the  valves  in  the  veins. 

52.  Nature,   or   physical    philosophy,   according   to  Lord 
Bacon's   partition,  did  not  comprehend   the  human 

•  .  TT-L    it          ^i  •      i_  5Ian  not 

species.      >>  hether   this  be   not   more  consonant  to   included 
popular  language,  adopted  by  preceding  systems  of    ^^J1  ta 
philosophy,   than   to   a   strict   and   perspicuous   ar- 
rangement,  may  by  some   be   doubted;   though   a  very  re- 
spectable authority,  that  of  Dugald   Stewart,  is  opposed  to 
including  man  in  the  province  of  physics.     For  it  is  surely 
strange  to  separate  the  physiology  of  the  human  body,  as  quite 
a  science  of  another  class,  from  that  of  inferior  animals ;  and, 
if  we  place  this  part  of  our  being  under  the  department  of 
physical  philosophy,  we  shall  soon  be  embarrassed  by  what 
Bacon  has  called  the  doctrina  de  fcedere,  the  science  of  the 
connection  between  the  soul  of  man  and  his  bodily  frame, — • 
a  vast  and  interesting  field,  even  yet  very  imperfectly  ex- 
plored. 

53.  It  has  pleased,  however,  the  author  to  follow  his  own 
arrangement.     The  fourth  book  relates  to  the  consti-  Man  in 
tution,  bodily  and  mental,  of  mankind.     In  this  book   body  and 
he  has  introduced  several  subdivisions,  which,  con- 
sidered merely  as  such,  do  not  always  appear  the  most  philo- 
sophical ;  but  the  pregnancy  and  acuteness  of  his  observations 
under  each  head  silence  all  criticism  of  this  kind.     This  book 
has  nearly  doubled  the  extent  of  the  corresponding  pages  in 
the  Advancement  of  Learning.     The  doctrine  as  to  the  sub- 
stance of  the  thinking  principle  having   been   very   slightly 
touched,  or  rather  passed  over,  with  two  curious  disquisitions  on 
divination  and  fascination,  he  advances,  in  four  ensuing  books, 
to  the  intellectual  and  moral   faculties,   and   those    sciences 
which  immediately  depend  upon  them.     Logic  and 

ethics  are  the  grand  divisions,  correlative  to  the 
reason  and  the  will  of  man.  Logic,  according  to  Lord  Bacon, 
comprises  the  sciences  of  inventing,  judging,  retaining,  and 
delivering  the  conceptions  of  the  mind.  We  invent,  that  is, 
discover,  neW  arts,  or  new  arguments;  we  judge  by  induc- 
tion or  by  syllogism ;  the  memory  is  capable  of  being  aided 
by  artificial  methods.  All  these  processes  of  the  mind  are 
the  subjects  of  several  sciences,  which  it  was  the  peculiar 
aim  of  Bacon,  by  his  own  logic,  to  place  on  solid  foun- 
dations. 


48  BAC01T.  PART  III. 

54.  It  is  here  to  be  remarked,  that  the  sciences  of  logic  and 
Extent        ethics,  according  to  the  partitions  of  Lord  Bacon,  are 
given  it  by  far  more  extensive  than  we  nre  accustomed  to  con- 
Bacon.        gi(ier  them.    Whatever  concerned  the  human  intel- 
lect came  under  the  first;    whatever  related  to  the  will,  "and 
affections  of  the  mind,  fell  under  the  head  of  ethics.     "  Logica 
de  intellectu  et  ratione,  ethica  de  voluntate  appetitu  et  affecti- 
bus  disserit ;  altera  decreta,  altera  actiones  progignit."     But  it 
has  been  usual  to  confine  logic  to  the  methods  of  guiding  the 
understanding  in  the  search  for  truth ;  and  some,  though,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  in  a  manner  not  warranted  by  the  best  usage  of 
philosophers,1    have    endeavored  to  exclude  every  thing  but 
the  syllogistic  mode  of  reasoning  from  the  logical  province. 
Whether,  again,  the  nature  and  operations  of  the  human  mind, 
in  general,  ought  to  be  reckoned  a  part  of  physics,  has  already 
been  mentioned  as  a  disputable  question. 

55.  The  science  of  delivering  our  own  thoughts  to  others, 
Grammar     branching  into  grammar  and  rhetoric,  and  including 
and  rhe-      poetry,  so  far  as  its  proper  vehicles  —  metre  and  dic- 
tion —  are  concerned,  occupies  the  sixth  book.     In  all 

this  he  finds  more  desiderata,  than,  from  the  great  attention 
paid  to  these  subjects  by  the  ancients,  could  have  been 
expected.  Thus  his  ingenious  collection  of  antitheta,  or  com- 
monplaces in  rhetoric,  though  mentioned  by  Cicero  as  to  the 
judicial  species  of  eloquence,  is  first  extended  by  Bacon  him- 
self, as  he  supposes,  to  deliberative  or  political  orations.  I  do 
not,  however,  think  it  probable  that  this  branch  of  topics 
could  have  been  neglected  by  antiquity,  though  the  writings 
relating  to  it  may  not  have  descended  to  us  ;  nor  can  we  by 
any  means  say  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  Aristotle's 
Rhetoric.  Whether  the  utility  of  these  commonplaces,  when 
collected  in  books,  be  very  great,  is  another  question.  And  a 
similar  doubt  might  be  suggested  with  respect  to  the  elenchs, 
or  refutations,  of  rhetorical  sophisms,  colores  boni  et  mali, 
whichyie  reports  as  equally  deficient,  though  a  commencement 
had  been  made  by  Aristotle. 

56.  In  the  seventh  book,  we  come  to  ethical  science.     This 

he  deems  to  have  been  insufficiently  treated.     He 

htlllCS.  Ill  1  T/Y>  11  f 

would  have  the  different  tempers  and  characters  or 
mankind  first  considered ;    then  their  passions  and  affections 

1  "In  altera  philosophine  paite,   quse  est  quarendi   ao  dlsserendi,   qua 
iicitur."—  Cio.  de  Fin.,  i.  14. 


CHAP.  m.  ETHICS  — POLITICS.  49 

(neither  of  which,  as  he  justly  observes,  find  a  place  in  the 
Ethics  of  Aristotle,  though  they  are  sometimes  treated,  not  so 
appositely,  in  his  Rhetoric)  ;  lastly,  the  methods  of  altering 
and  aftecting  the  will  and  appetite,  such  as  custom,  education, 
imitation,  or  society.  "  The  main  and  primitive  division  of 
moral  knowledge  seemeth  to  be  into  the  exemplar  or  plat- 
form of  good,  and  the  regiment  or  culture  of  the  mind :  the 
one  describing  the  nature  of  good  ;  the  other  presenting  rules 
how  to  subdue,  apply,  and  accommodate  the  will  of  man 
thereunto."  This  latter  he  also  calls  "  the  Georgics  of  the 
mind."  He  seems  to  place  '-  the  platform  or  essence  of 
good"  in  seeking  the  good  of  the  whole,  rather  than  that 
of  the  individual,  applying  this  to  refute  the  ancient  theo- 
ries as  to  the  summum  bonnm.  But  perhaps  Bacon  had 
not  thoroughly  disentangled  this  question,  and  confounds, 
as  is  not  unusual,  the  siimmum  bo?ium,  or  personal  feli- 
city, with  the  object  of  moral  action,  or  commune  bomtm. 
He  is  right,  however,  in  preferring,  morally  speaking,  the 
active  to  the  contemplative  life  against  Aristotle  and  other 
philosophers.  This  part  is  translated  in  De  Auginentis, 
with  little  variation,  from  the  Advancement  of  Learning ; 
as  is  also  what  follows  on  the  Georgics,  or  culture,  of  the 
mind.  The  philosophy  of  civil  life,  as  it  relates  both  to  the 
conduct  of  men  in  their  mutual  intercourse,  which  is  peculiar- 
ly termed  prudence,  and  to  that  higher  prudence  which  is 
concerned  with  the  administration  of  communities,  fills  up  the 
chart  of  the  Baconian  ethics.  In  the  eighth  book,  admirable 
reflections  on  the  former  of  these  subjects  occur  at  almost 
every  sentence.  Many,  perhaps  most,  of  these  will  be  found 
in  the  Advancement  of  Learning.  But,  in  this,  he  had  been, 
for  a  reason  sufficiently  ob vious  and  almost  avowed,  cautious- 
ly silent  upon  the  art  of  government,  —  the  craft  of  his  king. 
The  motives  for  silence  were  still  so  powerful,  that  Politic8 
he  treats,  in  the  De  Augmentis,  only  of  two  heads 
in  political  science :  the  methods  of  enlarging  the  boundaries 
of  a  state,  which  James  I.  could  hardly  resent  as  an  inter- 
ference with  his  own  monopoly ;  and  one  of  far  more  impor- 
tance to  the  well-being  of  mankind,  the  principles  of  universal 
jurisprudence,  or  rather  of  universal  legislation,  according  to 
which  standard  all  laws  ought  to  be  framed.  These  he  has 
sketched  in  ninety-seven  aphorisms,  or  short  rules,  wlu'ch, 
from  the  great  experience  of  Bacon  in  the  laws,  as  well  as  his 


50  BACON.  PAKT  Hi 

peculiar  vocation  towards  that  part  of  philosophy,  deserve  to 
be  studied  at  this  day.  Upon  such  topics,  the  progressive 
and  innovating  spirit  of  his  genius  was  less  likely  to  he  per- 
ceived ;  but  he  is  here,  as  on  all  occasions,  equally  free  from 
what  he  has  happily  called,  in  one  of  his  essays,  the  "  fro  ward 
retention  of  custom,"  the  prejudice  of  mankind,  like  that  of 
perverse  children,  against  what  is  advised  to  them  for  their 
real  good,  and  what  they  cannot  deny  to  be  conducive  to  it. 
This  whole  eighth  book  is  pregnant  with  profound 
and  original  thinking.  The  ninth  and  last,  which  is 
short,  glances  only  at  some  desiderata  in  theological  science, 
and  is  chiefly  remarkable  as  it  displays  a  more  liberal  and 
catholic  spirit  than  was  often  to  be  met  with  in  a  period  sig- 
nalized by  bigotry  and  ecclesiastical  pride.  But  as  the 
abjuration  of  human  authority  is  the  first  principle  of  Lord 
Bacon's  philosophy,  and  the  preparation  for  his  logic,  it  w;is 
not  expedient  to  say  too  much  of  its  usefulness  in  theological 
pursuits. 

57.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  whole,  we  may  find  a  summary 
Desiderata    catalogue  of  the  deficiencies,  which,  in  the  course  of 
enumerated  this  ample  review,  Lord  Bacon  had  found  worthy 

of  being  supplied  by  patient  and  philosophical  in- 
quiry. Of  these  desiderata,  few,  I  fear,  have  since  been 
filled  up,  at  least  in  a  collective  and'  systematic  manner, 
according  to  his  suggestions.  Great  materials,  useful  intima- 
tions, and  even  partial  delineations,  are  certainly  to  be  found, 
as  to  many  of  the  rest,  in  the  writings  of  those  who  have  done 
honor  to  the  last  two  centuries.  But,  with  all  our  pride  in 
modern  science,  very  much  even  of  what,  in  Bacon's  time, 
was  perceived  to  be  wanting,  remains  for  the  diligence  and 
sagacity  of  those  who  are  yet  to  come. 

58.  The   first   book  of  the  Novum  Organum,  if  it  is  not 
Novum        better  known  than  any  other  part  of  Bacon's  philoso- 
Organum:    phical  writings,  has  at  least  furnished  more  of  those 

50  '  striking  passages  which  shine  in  quotation.  It  is 
written  in  detached  aphorisms ;  the  sentences,  even  where 
these  aphorisms  are  longest,  not  flowing  much  into  one 
another,  so  as  to  create  a  suspicion,  that  he  had  formed  adver- 
saria, to  which  he  committed  his  thoughts  as  they  arose.  It 
is  full  of  repetitions ;  and  indeed  this  is  so  usual  with  Lord 
Bacon,  that,  whenever  we  find  an  acute  reflection  or  brilliant 
analogy,  it  is  more  than  an  even  chance  that  it  will  recur  in 


CHAP.  m.  NO  YUM  OBGAXDJI.  51 

some  other  place.  I  have  already  observed  that  he  has  hinted 
the  Xovum  Organum  to  be^i  digested  summary  of  his  method 
but  not  the  entire  system  as  he  designed  to  develop  it,  even 
iii  that  small  portion  which  he  has  handled  at  all. 

59.  Of  the  splendid   passages   in   the    Xovum   Organum 
none  are  perhaps  so  remarkable  as  bis    celebrated  Fallacies, 
division  of  fallacies ;  not  such  as  the  dialecticians  had  Idola 
been  accustomed  to  refute,  depending  upon  equivocal  words, 
or  faulty  disposition  of  premises,  but  lying  far  deeper  in  the 
natural  or  incidental  prejudices  of  the  mind  itself.     These  are 
four  in  number  :  idola  tribus,  to  which,  from  certain  common 
weaknesses  of  human  nature,  we  are  universally  liable  ;  idola 
specus,  which,  from  peculiar  dispositions  and  circumstances  of 
individuals,  mislead   them   in  different  manners ;   idola  fori, 
arising  from  the  current   usage   of  words,   which  represent 
things  much  otherwise  than  as  they  really  are ;    and  idola 
theatri,  which  false  systems  of  philosophy  and  erroneous  me- 
thods of  reasoning  have  introduced.     Hence,  as  the  refracted 
ray  gives  us  a  false  notion  as  to  the  place  of  the  object  whose 
image  it  transmits,  so  our  own  minds  are  a  refracting  medium 
to  the  objects  of  their  own  contemplation,  and  require  all  the 
aid  of  a  well-directed  philosophy  either  to  rectify  the  percep- 
tion, or  to  make  allowances  for  its  errors. 

60.  These  idola,  et<5uAa,  images,  illusions,  fallacies,  or,  as 
Lord  Bacon  calls  them  in  the  Advancement  of  Learn-  confounded 
ing.  false  appearances,  have  been  often  named   in  with  idols. 
English  idols  of  the  tribe,  of  the  den,  of  the  market-place. 
But  it  seems  better,  unless  we  retain  the  Latin  name,  to  em- 
ploy one  of  the  synonymous  terms  given  above.     For  the  use 
of  idol  in  this  sense  is  little  warranted  by  the  practice  of  the 
language,  nor  is  it  found  in  Bacon  himself ;  but  it  has  misled 
a  host  of  writers,  whoever  might  be  the  first  that  applied  it, 
even  among  such  as  are  conversant  with  the  Xovum  Organum 
"  Bacon  proceeds,"  says  Playfair,  "  to  enumerate  the  causes  of 
error ;  the  idols,  as  he  calls  them,  or  false  divinities,  to  which 
the  mind  had  so  long  been  accustomed  to  bow."     And  with  a 
similar  misapprehension  of  the  meaning  of  the  word,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  idola  specus,  he  says,  "  Besides  the  causes  of  error 
which  are  common  to  all  mankind,  each  individual,  according 
to  Bacon,  has  his  own  dark  cavern  or  den,  into  which  the 
light  »s  imperfectly  admitted,  and  in  the  obscurity  of  which  a 

idol  lurks,  at  whose  shrine  the  truth  is  often  sacri- 


52  BACON.  PART  III. 

ficed." l  Thus  also  Dr.  Thomas  Brown :  "  In  the  inmost  sanctu- 
aries of  the  mind  were  all  the  idolfc  which  he  overthrew ; "  and 
a  later  author  on  the  Novum  Organum  fancies  that  Bacon 
"  strikingly,  though  in  his  usual  quaint  style,  calls  the  preju- 
dices that  check  the  progress  of  the  mind  by  the  name  of  idols, 
because  mankind  are  apt  to  pay  homage  to  these,  instead  of 
regarding  truth."  2  Thus,  too,  in  the  translation  of  the  Novum 
Organum,  published  in  Mr.  Basil  Montagu's  edition,  we  find 
idola  rendered  by  idols,  without  explanation.  We  may,  in 
fact,  say  that  this  meaning  has  been  almost  universally  given 
by  later  writers.  By  whom  it  was  introduced  I  cannot  deter- 
mine. Cudworth,  in  a  passage  where  he  glances  at  Bacon, 
has  said,  "  It  is  no  idol  of  the  den,  to  use  that  affected  lan- 
guage." But,  in  the  pedantic  style  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
it  is  not  impossible  that  idol  may  here  have  been  put  as  a  mere 
translation  of  the  Greek  ttdutov,  and  in  the  same  general  sense 
of  an  idea  or  intellectual  image.3  Although  the  popular 
sense  would  not  be  inapposite  to  the  general  purpose  of  Bacon 
in  the  first  part  of  the  Novum  Organum,  it  cannot  be  reck- 
oned so  exact  and  philosophical  an  illustration  of  the  sources 
of  human  error  as  the  unfaithful  image,  the  shadow  of  reality, 
seen  through  a  refracting  surface,  or  reflected  from  an  unequal 
mirror,  as  in  the  Platonic  hypothesis  of  the  cave,  wherein  we 
are  placed  with  our  backs  to  the  light,  to  which  he  seems  to 
allude  in  his  idola  specus*  And  as  this  is  also  plainly  the 
true  meaning,  as  a  comparison  with  the  parallel  passages  in 
the  Advancement  of  Learning  demonstrates,  there  can  be  no 
pretence  for  continuing  to  employ  a  word  which  has  served  to 
mislead  such  men  as  Brown  and  Playfair. 

1  Prelim.  Dissertation  to  Encyclopaedia,  speaks  of  idols    or    false    appearances." 

2  Introduction  to  the  Novum  Organum,  The  quotation  is  from  the  translation  of 
published  by  the  Society  for  the  Diffusion  one  of  his  short  Ijitin  tracts,  which  was 
of  Useful  Knowledge.     Even  Stewart  seems  not  made  by  himself.     It  is,  however,  a 
to    have    fallen    into    the    same    error,  proof  that  the  word  i'lol  was  once  used  iu 
"  While   these  idols  of  the  den  maintain  this  sense. 

their  authority,  the  cultivation  of  the  phi-  4  "  Quisque  ex  phantasiae  sure  cellulis 

iosophieal spirit  i.s  impossible  ;  or  rather  it  tanquaiu  ex  specu    Platonis,  philosophy- 

is  in  a  renunciation  of  this  idolatry  that  tur."  —  Historia  Xaturalis.  iu  jmrlUtione. 

the   philosophical   spirit  essentially    con-  Coleridge  has  some  fine  lines   in  allusion 

Bistp."  —  Dissertation,  &c.     The  observa-  to   this   hypothesis   in    that   magnificent 

tion  is  equally  true,  whatever  sense   we  effasion  of  his  genius,  the  introduction  to 

may  give  to  idol.  the  second  book  of  Joan  of  Arc,  but  with- 

3  In  Todd's  edition  of  Johnson's   Die-  drawn,  after  the   first  edition,  from  that 
nonary  this  sense  is  not  mentioned.     But  poem ;  where  he  dosrribi's  us  a,s  "  placed 
In  that  of  the   Encyclopaedia  Metropoli-  with  our  backs  to  bright  reality."     I  am 
tana  we  have  these  words:    "An  idol  or  not,  however,   certain  that  Baron  meant 
liiiagt!   is  also  opposed  to  a  reality  ;  thus  this  preoi.-r  analogy   by  his  idola  fpec&t. 
I<ord  Bacon  (see  the  quotation  from  him)  See  De  Augmeutis,  lib.  v.  c.  4. 


CHAP.  IH.      SECOND  BOOK  OF  NOVUM  ORGANUM.  53 

61.  In  the  second  book  of  the  Novura  Organum,  we  come  at 
length  to  the  new  logic,  the  interpretation  of  nature,  Second 
as  he  calls  it,  or  the  rules  for  conducting  inquiries  ^vum 
in  natural  philosophy  according  to  his  inductive  me-  brganum. 
thod.  It  is,  as  we  have  said,  a  fragment  of  his  entire  system, 
and  is  chiefly  confined  to  the  "  prerogative  instances," 1  or 
phenomena  which  are  to  be  selected,  for  various  reasons,  as 
most  likely  to  aid  our  investigations  of  nature.  Fifteen  of 
these  are  used  to  guide  the  intellect,  five  to  assist  the  senses, 
seven  to  correct  the  practice.  This  second  book  is  written 
with  more  than  usual  want  of  perspicuity ;  and,  though  it  is 
intrinsically  the  Baconian  philosophy  in  a  pre-eminent  sense. 
I  much  doubt  whether  it  is  very  extensively  read,  though  far 
more  so  than  it  was  fifty  years  since.  Playfair,  however,  haa 
given  an  excellent  abstract  of  it  in  his  Preliminary  Disserta- 
tion to  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  with  abundant  and  judi- 
cious illustrations  from  modern  science.  Sir  John  Herschel, 
in  his  admirable  Discourse  on  Natural  Philosophy,  has  added 
a  greater  number  from  still  more  recent  discoveries,  and  has 
also  furnished  such  a  luminous  development  of  the  difficulties 
of  the  Novum  Organum,  as  had  been  vainly  hoped  in  former 
times.  The  commentator  of  Bacon  should  be  himself  of  an 
original  genius  in  philosophy.  These  novel  illustrations  are 
the  more  useful,  because  Bacon  himself,  from  defective  know- 
ledge of  natural  phenomena,  and  from  what,  though  contrary 
to  his  precepts,  his  ardent  fancy  could  not  avoid,  —  a  premature 
hastening  to  explain  the  essences  of  things  instead  of  their 
proximate  causes,  —  has  frequently  given  erroneous  examples. 
It  is  to  be  observed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  he  often  anticipates 
with  marvellous  sagacity  the  discoveries  of  posterity,  and  that 
his  patient  and  acute  analysis  of  the  phenomena  of  heat  has 
been  deemed  a  model  of  his  own  inductive  reasoning.  "  Nc 
one,"  observes  Playfair,  "  has  done  so  much  in  such  circum 
stances."  He  was  even  ignorant  of  some  things  that  he  might 
have  known ;  he  wanted  every  branch  of  mathematics ;  and 
placed  in  this  remote  corner  of  Europe,  without  many  kindred 
minds  to  animate  his  zeal  for  physical  science,  seems  hardly 
to  have  believed  the  discoveries  of  Galileo. 

1  The  allusion  in  pravogativa  instan-  called,  though  by  lot,  was  generally  found, 
tiarum  is  not  to  the  English  word  pre-  by  some  prejudice  or  superstition,  to  in- 
rogative,  as  Sir  John  Herschel  seems  to  fluence  the  rest  which  seldom  Toted  other- 
suppose  (Discourse on  Natural  Philosophy,  wise.  It  is  rather  a  forced  analogy,  which 
p.  182).  but  to  the  prefro%ativa  centuria  is  not  uncommon  with  Bacon 
to  the  Roman  comi  ia,  which  being  first 


54  BACON.  PART  III. 

62.  It  has  happened  to  Lord  Bacon,  as  it  has  to  many 
Confidence  other  writers,  that  he  has  been  extolled  for  qualities 
of  Bacon,  jjy  no  means  characteristic  of  his  mind.  The  first 
aphorism  of  the  Novum  Organum,  so  frequently  quoted,  "  Man, 
the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature,  performs  and  under- 
stands so  much  as  he  has  collected  concerning  the  order  of 
nature  by  observation  or  reason,  nor  do  his  power  or  his 
knowledge  extend  farther,"  has  seemed  to  bespeak  an  extreme 
sobriety  of  imagination,  a  willingness  to  acquiesce  in  register- 
ing the  phenomena  of  nature  without  seeking  a  revelation  of 
her  secrets.  And  nothing  is  more  true  than  that  such  was  the 
cautious  and  patient  course  of  inquiry  prescribed  by  him  to  all 
the  genuine  disciples  of  his  inductive  method.  But  he  was 
far  from  being  one  of  those  humble  philosophers  who  would 
limit  human  science  to  the  enumeration  of  particular  facts. 
He  had,  on  the  contrary,  vast  hopes  of  the  human  intellect 
under  the  guidance  of  his  new  logic.  The  latens  schematis- 
mus,  or  intrinsic  configuration  of  bodies,  the  latens  processus 
adformam,  or  transitional  operation  through  which  they  pass 
from  one  form,  or  condition  of  nature,  to  another,  would  one 
day,  as  he  hoped,  be  brought  to  light ;  and  this  not,  of  course, 
by  simple  observation  of  the  senses,  nor  even  by  assistance  of 
instruments,  concerning  the  utility  of  which  he  was  rather 
sceptical,  but  by  a  rigorous  application  of  exclusive  and  affirm- 
ative propositions  to  the  actual  phenomena  by  the  inductive 
method.  "  It  appears,"  says  Playfair,  "  that  Bacon  placed  the 
ultimate  object  of  philosophy  too  high,  and  too  much  out  of 
the  reach  of  man,  even  when  his  exertions  are  most  skilfully 
conducted.  He  seems  to  have  thought,  that  by  giving  a 
proper  direction  to  our  researches,  and  carrying  them  on 
according  to  the  inductive  method,  we  should  arrive  at  the 
knowledge  of  the  essences  of  the  powers  and  qualities  resid- 
ing in  bodies ;  that  we  should,  for  instance,  become  acquainted 
with  the  essence  of  heat,  of  cold,  of  color,  of  transparency. 
The  fact  however  is,  that,  in  as  far  as  science  has  yet  ad- 
vanced, no  one  essence  has  been  discovered,  either  as  to  mat- 
ter in  general,  or  as  to  any  of  its  more  extensive  modifications. 
We  are  yet  in  doubt  whether  heat  is  a  peculiar  motion  of  the 
minute  parts  of  bodies,  as  Bacon  himself  conceived  it  to 
be,  or  something  emitted  or  radiated  from  their  surfaces,  or, 
lastly,  the  vibrations  of  an  elastic  medium  by  which  they  are 
penetrated  and  surrounded." 


-PAT,  in.  NO  YUM  OBGANUM.  56 

63.  It  requires   a   very  extensive   survey   of  the  actual 
dominion  of  science,  and  a  great  sagacity,  to  judge,   A]most 
even  in  the  loosest  manner,  what  is  beyond  the  pos-  justified  of 
sible  limits  of  human  knowledge.     Certainly,  since 

the  time  when  this  passage  was  written  by  Playfair,  more 
steps  have  been  made  towards  realizing  the  sanguine  antici- 
pations of  Bacon  than  in  the  two  centuries  that  had^  elapsed 
«ince  the  publication  of  the  Novum  Organum.  W^f  do  not 
yet  know  the  real  nature  of  heat ;  but  few  would  pronounce  it 
impossible  or  even  unlikely  that  we  may  know  it,  in  the  same 
degree  that  we  know  other  physical  realities  not  immediately 
perceptible,  before  many  years  shall  have  expired.  The  atomic 
theory  of  Dalton,  the  laws  of  crystalline  substances  discovered 
by  Hauy,  the  development  of  others  still  subtler  by  Mitscher- 
lich,  instead  of  exhibiting,  as  the  older  philosophy  had  done, 
the  idola  rerum,  the  sensible  appearances  of  concrete  sub- 
stance, radiations  from  the  internal  glory,  admit  us,  as  it  were, 
to  stand  within  the  vestibule  of  nature's  temple,  and  to  gaze 
on  the  very  curtain  of  the  shrine.  If,  indeed,  we  could  know 
the  internal  structure  of  one  primary  atom,  and  could  tell, 
not  of  course  by  immediate  testimony  of  sense,  but  by  legiti- 
mate inference  from  it,  through  what  constant  laws  its  com- 
ponent though  indiscerpible  molecules,  the  atoms  of  atoms, 
attract,  retain,  and  repel  each  other,  we  should  have  before 
our  mental  vision  not  only  the  latens  schematismus,  the  real 
configuration  of  the  substance,  but  its  form,  or  efficient  nature, 
and  could  give  as  perfect  a  definition  of  any  such  substance, 
of  gold,  for  example,  as  we  can  of  a  cone  or  a  parallelogram. 
The  recent  discoveries  of  animal  and  vegetable  development, 
and  especially  the  happy  application  of  the  microscope  to  ob- 
serving chemical  and  organic  changes  in  their  actual  course, 
are  equally  remarkable  advances  towards  a  knowledge  of  the 
latens  processus  ad  formam,  the  corpuscular  motions  by  which 
all  change  must  be  accomplished,  and  are  in  fact  a  great  deal 
more  than  Bacon  himself  would  have  deemed  possible.1 

64.  These   astonishing   revelations   of  natural   mysteries, 
fresh  tidings  of  which  crowd  in  upon  us  every  day,  may  be 

i  By   the  latens  proctssus,    he    meant  has  taken  place,  a  latent  progress  from  on« 

only   what  is  the  natural  operation  by  form  to  another.      This,  in   numberless 

which  one  form  or  condition  of  being  is  cases,  we  can  now  answer,  at  least  to  a 

Induced  upon  another.     Thus,  when  the  very  great  extent,  by  the  science  of  che- 

surface  of  iron  becomes  rusty,   or  when  mistry. 
water  is  converted  into  steam,  some  change 


56  BACON.  PAKT  m 

likely  to  overwhelm  all  sober  hesitation  as  to  the  capacities  of 

the  human  mind,  and  to  bring  back  that   confidence 

be'kept11     which    Bacon,   in    so   much  less   favorable  circum- 

within         stances,  has  ventured  to  feel.   There  seem,  however,  to 

bounds.  /.i  •  •  i  •     i 

be  good  reasons  for  keeping  within  bounds  this  expec- 
tation of  future  improvement,  which,  as  it  has  sometimes  been 
announced  in  unqualified  phrases,  is  hardly  more  philosophical 
than  th£  vulgar  supposition  that  the  capacities  of  mankind  are 
almost  stationary.  The  phenomena  of  nature,  indeed,  in  all 
their  possible  combinations,  are  so  infinite,  in  a  popular  sense 
of  the  word,  that  during  no  period  to  which  the  human  species 
can  be  conceived  to  reach  would  they  be  entirely  collected  and 
registered.  The  case  is  still  stronger  as  to  the  secret  agencies 
and  processes  by  means  of  which  their  phenomena  are  dis- 
played. These  have  as  yet,  in  no  one  instance,  so  far  as  I 
know,  been  fully  ascertained.  "  Microscopes,"  says  Herschel, 
"  have  been  constructed  which  magnify  more  than  one  thou- 
sand times  in  linear  dimension,  so  that  the  smallest  visible 
grain  of  sand  may  be  enlarged  to  the  appearance  of  one  mil- 
lion times  more  bulky ;  yet  the  only  impression  we  receive  by 
viewing  it  through  such  a  magnifier  is  that  it  reminds  us  of 
some  vast  fragment  of  a  rock ;  while  the  intimate  structure 
on  which  depend  its  color,  its  hardness,  and  its  chemical  pro- 
perties, remains  still  concealed:  we  do  not  seem  to  have  made 
even  an  approach  to  a  closer  analysis  of  it  by  any  such  scru- 
tiny."1 

65.  The  instance  here  chosen  is  not  the  most  favorable  for 

the  experimental  philosopher.      He  might  perhaps 

Limits  to       ••_  •  i  i    j         ••  I'll 

our  know-  hope  to  gain  more  knowledge  by  applying  the  best 
ledge  by  microscope  to  a  regular  crystal  or  to  an  organized 
substance.  But  there  is  evidently  a  fundamental 
limitation  of  physical  science,  arising  from  those  of  the  bodily 
senses  and  of  muscular  motions.  The  nicest  instruments 
must  be  constructed  and  directed  by  the  human  hand :  the 
range  of  the  finest  glasses  must  have  a  limit,  not  only  in  their 
own  natural  structure,  but  in  that  of  the  human  eye.  Hut 
no  theory  in  science  will  be  acknowledged  to  deserve  any 
regard,  except  as  it  is  drawn  immediately,  and  by  an  exclu- 
sive process,  from  the  phenomena  wliich  our  senses  report  to 
us.  Thus  the  regular  observation  of  definite  proportions  in 
chemical  combination  has  suggested  the  atomic  theory;  and 

i  Discourse  on  Nat.  Philos.,  p.  191 


CHAP   m.  INDUCTIVE  LOGIC.  57 

even  this  has  been  sceptically  accepted  by  our  cautious  school 
of  philosophy.  If  we  are  ever  to  go  farther  into  the  molecu- 
lar analvsis  of  substances,  it  must  be  through  the  means  and 
upon  the  authority  of  new  discoveries  exhibited  to  our  senses 
in  experiment.  But  the  existing  powers  of  exhibiting  or 
compelling  nature  by  instruments,  vast  as  they  appear  to  us, 
and  wonderful  as  has  been  their  efficacy  in  many  respects, 
have  done  little  for  many  years  past  in  diminishing  the  num- 
ber of  substances  reputed  to  be  simple ;  and  with  strong 
reasons  to  suspect  that  some  of  these,  at  least,  yield  to  the 
crucible  of  nature,  our  electric  batteries  have,  up  to  this  hour, 
played  innoculously  round  their  heads. 

66.  Bacon  has  thrown  out,  once  or  twice,  a  hint  at  a  single 
principle,  a  summary  law  of  nature,  as  if  all  subordinate 
causes  resolved  themselves  into  one  great  process,  according 
to  which  God  works  his  will  in  the  universe:  "Opus  quod 
operatur  Deus  a  principio  usque   ad  finem."      The  natural 
tendency   towards   simplification,  and  what  we    consider   as 
harmony,  in  our  philosophical  systems,  which   Lord  Bacon 
himself  reckons  among  the  idola  tribus,  the  fallacies  incident 
to  the  species,  has  led  some  to  favor  this  unity  of  physical  law. 
Impact  and  gravity  have  each  had  their  supporters.     But  we 
are  as  yet  at  a  great  distance  from  establishing  such  a  gene- 
ralization, nor  does  it  appear  by  any  means  probable  that  it 
will  ever  assume  any  simple  form. 

67.  The  close  connection  of  the  inductive  process  recom- 
mended by  Bacon  with  natural  philosophy  in  the  inductire 
common  sense  of  that  word,  and  the  general  selec-  i°g»c : 
tion  of  his  examples  for  illustration  from  that  science,  confined  to 
have  given  rise  "to  a  question,  whether  he  compre-  ph.""*- 
bended  metaphysical  and  moral  philosophy  within  the  scope 
of  his  inquiry.1      That  they  formed  a  part  of  the  Instaura- 
tion  of  Sciences,  and  therefore  of  the  Baconian  philosophy 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  is  obvious  from  the  fact  that 
a  large  proportion  of  the  treatise  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum 
is  dedicated  to  those  subjects  ;   and  it  is  not  less  so  that  the 
idola  of  the  Xovurn  Organum  are  at  least  as  apt  to  deceive 
us  in  moral  as  in  physical  argument.     The  question,  there- 

1  This    question    was    discussed    some  Review.  TO!,  iii.  p.  273;  and  the  Prelimi- 

jrears  since  by  the  late  editor  of  the  Edin-  nary  Dissertation  to  Stewart'i  Philosophy 

burgh  Review,  on  one  side,  and  by  Dugald  cal  Essays. 
Stewart  on  the  other.      See  Edinburgh 


58  BACON.  PAKT  HI. 

fore,  can  only  be  raised  as  to  the  peculiar  method  of  conduct- 
ing investigations,  which  is  considered  as  his  own.  This 
would,  however,  appear  to  have  been  decided  by  himself  in 
very  positive  language :  "  It  may  be  doubted,  rather  than 
objected,  by  some,  whether  we  look  to  the  perfection,  by 
means  of  our  method,  of  natural  philosophy  alone,  or  of  the 
other  sciences  also,  of  logic,  of  ethics,  of  politics.  But  we 
certainly  mean  what  has  here  been  said  to  be  understood  as 
to  them  all ;  and  as  the  ordinary  logic,  which  proceeds  by 
syllogism,  does  not  relate  to  physical  only,  but  to  every  other 
science,  so  ours,  which  proceeds  by  induction,  comprises  them 
all.  For  we  as  much  collect  a  history  and  form  tables  con- 
cerning anger,  fear,  shame,  and  the  like,  and  also  concerning 
examples  from  civil  life,  and  as  much  concerning  the  intellec- 
tual operations  of  memory,  combination,  and  partition,  judg- 
ment and  the  others,  as  concerning  heat  and  cold,  or  light,  or 
vegetation,  or  such  things." l  But  he  proceeds  to  intimate,  as 
far  as  I  understand  the  next  sentence,  that  although  his  method 
or  logic,  strictly  speaking,  is  applicable  to  other  subjects,  it  is 
his  immediate  object  to  inquire  into  the  properties  of  natural 
things,  or  what  is  generally  meant  by  physics.  To  this,  in- 
deed, the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Organuin  and  the 
portions  that  he  completed  of  the  remaining  parts  of  the 
Instauratio  Magna  bear  witness. 

68.  It  by  no  means  follows,  because  the  leading  principles 
Baconian  °^  *^e  inductive  philosophy  are  applicable  to  other 
philosophy  topics  of  inquiry  than  what  is  usually  comprehended 
6eJraUon°b"  under  the  name  of  physics,  that  we  can  employ  all 
and  expert-  the  pr&rogativcR  instantiarum,  and  still  less  the 
peculiar  rules  for  conducting  experiments  which 
Bacon  has  given  us,  in  moral  or  even  psychological  disquisi- 

1    "  Etiam   dubitabit   quispiam    potius  sitionis  et  divisionis,  judicii  et  rcliquorum, 

qviam  objiciet,  utruin  nos  de  natural!  tan-  quam  de  calido  et  frigido,  aut  luce,  aut 

turn   pbilosophia,   an  etiaui   de   scientiis  vegetatione    aut   similibus.      Scd    fcmien 

reliquis,   logicis,  ethicis,  politicis,  secun-  cum  nostra  ratio  iuterpretamU.  post  liisto- 

dum  Yiam  nostram  perficiendis  loquamur.  riam  pneparatam  et  ordinatam.  non  nien- 

At  nos  certc-  de  universis  haec,  qua;  dicta  tis  tantum  rnotus  et  discursus,  ut  logica 

mnt,  intelligimus  ;  atque  quemadmodum  vulgaris,  sed  etrerum  naturain  intucatur, 

vulgaris  logica,  quse  regit  res  per  syllogis-  ita  mentem  regimus  ut  ad  reruin  naturam 

mum,   non  tantum  ad  naturales,  sed  ad  se  aptis  per  omnia  modis  applicare  possit. 

Dinnes   scientias  pertinet,   ita  et  nostra,  Atque  propterea  multa  et  diversa  in  doe- 

quse    procedit    per    inductionem,    omnia  trina    interpretationis    pnvci  plains,   qua 

cuiiipli'ctitur.      Tarn  eniin   llistoriam    et  ad  subject.!,    de  quo  inquirimus,  qualita- 

TubuLis    Inveniendi    conficimus    do    ira,  tern   et  conditionem   iiiinluui    invcniendl 

rnetu  et  verecundia  et  gimilibus,  ac  etiam  nonnullaex  parteapplicent."  —  Nov.OrgM 

de  exemplis  rcrum  civilium ;  nee  minus  i.  127. 
de  motibua  mentaUbus  memoriae,  compo- 


CHAP  m.     REMAKES  ON  THE  ESTDUCTIVE  METHOD.  59 

ticns.  Many  of  them  are  plainly  referable  to  particular 
manipulations,  or  at  most  to  limited  subjects  of  chemical 
tifcory.  And  the  frequent  occurrence  of  passages  which 
ehow  Lord  Bacon's  fondness  for  experimental  processes,  seems 
to  have  led  some  to  consider  his  peculiar  methods  as  more 
exclusively  related  to  such  modes  of  inquiry  than  they  really 
are.  But  when  the  Baconian  philosophy  is  said  to  be  expe- 
rimental, we  are  to  remember  that  experiment  is  only  better 
than  what  we  may  call  passive  observation,  because  it  en- 
larges our  capacity  of  observing  with  exactness  and  expedition. 
The  reasoning  is  grounded  on  observation  in  both  cases.  In 
astronomy,  where  nature  remarkably  presents  the  objects  of 
our  observation  without  liability  to  error  or  uncertain  delay, 
we  may  reason  on  the  inductive  principle  as  well  as  in  sciences 
that  require  tentative  operations.  The  inferences  drawn  from 
the  difference  of  time  in  the  occupation  of  the  satellites  of  Jupi- 
ter at  different  seasons,  in  favor  of  the  Copernican  theory  and 
against  the  instantaneous  motion  of  light,  are  inductions  of 
the  same  kind  with  any  that  could  be  derived  from  an  expe- 
rimentv.m  crucis.  They  are  exclusions  of  those  hypotheses 
which  might  solve  many  phenomena,  but  fail  to  explain  those 
immediately  observed. 

69.  But  astronomy,  from  the  comparative  solitariness,  if  we 
may  so  say,  of  all  its  phenomena,  and  the  simplicity  Advantagea 
of  their  laws,  has  an  advantage  that  is  rarely  found  in  of  the 
sciences  of  mere  observation.     Bacon  justly  gave  to 
experiment,  or   the  interrogation  of  nature,  compelling  her 
to  give  up  her  secrets,  a  decided  preference  whenever  it  can 
be  employed  ;  and  it  is  unquestionably  true  that  the  inductive 
method  is  tedious,  if  not  uncertain,  when  it  Cannot  resort  to 
so  compendious  a  process.     One  ,pf  the  subjects  selected  by 
Bacon  in  the  third  part  of  the  Instauration  as  specimens  of 
the  method  by  which  an  inquiry  into  nature  should  be  con- 
ducted—  the    History  of  Winds  —  does   not   greatly  admit 
of  experiments  ;    and  the  very  slow  progress  of  meteorology, 
which  has  yet  hardly  deserved  the  name  of  a  science,  when 
compared  with  that  of  chemistry  or  optics,  will  illustrate  the 
difficulties  of  employing  the  inductive  method  without  their 
aid.     It  is  not,  therefore,  that  Lord  Bacon's  method  of  philo- 
sophizing is  properly  experimental,  but  that  by  experiment  it 
is  most  successfully  displayed. 

70.  It  will  follow  from  hence,  that  in  proportion  as,  in  any 


60  BACON.  PART  III. 

matter  of  inquiry,  we  can  separate,  in  what  we  examine, 
the  determining  conditions,  or  law  of  form,  from  every  thing 
Sometimes  extraneous,  we  shall  be  more  able  to  use  the  Baco- 
appiicabie  njan  method  with  advantage.  In  metaphysics,  or 
phyofnu-  what  Stewart  would  have  called  the  philosophy  of 
man  mind.  ^e  human  mind,  there  seems  much  in  its  own  nature 
capable  of  being  subjected  to  the  inductive  reasoning.  Such 
are  those  facts  which,  by  their  intimate  connection  with  phy- 
siology, or  the  laws  of  the  bodily  frame,  fall  properly  within 
the  province  of  the  physician.  In  these,  though  exact  obser- 
vation is  chiefly  required,  it  is  often  practicable  to  shorten 
its  process  by  experiment.  And  another  important  illustra- 
tion may  be  given  from  the  education  of  children,  considered 
as  a  science  of  rules  deduced  from  observation ;  wherein 
also  we  are  frequently  more  able  to  substitute  experiment 
Less  so  to  ^or  mere  experience,  than  with  mankind  in  general, 
polities  and  whom  we  may  observe  at  a  distance,  but  cannot  con- 
morais.  ^^  jn  pities,  as  well  as  in  moral  prudence,  we 
can  seldom  do  more  than  this.  It  seems,  however,  practicable 
to  apply  the  close  attention  enforced  by  Bacon,  and  the  care- 
ful arrangement  and  comparison  of  phenomena,  which  are  the 
basis  of  his  induction,  to  these  subjects.  Thus,  if  the  circum- 
stances of  all  popular  seditions  recorded  in  history  were  to  be 
carefully  collected  with  great  regard  to  the  probability  of 
evidence,  and  to  any  peculiarity  that  may  have  affected  the 
results,  it  might  be  easy  to  perceive  such  a  connection  of 
antecedent  and  subsequent  events  in  the  great  plurality 
of  instances,  as  would  reasonably  lead  us  to  form  probable 
inferences  as  to  similar  tumults  when  they  should  occur.  This 
has  sometimes  ^een  done,  with  less  universality,  and  with 
much  less  accuracy  than  th,e  Baconian  method  requires,  by 
such  theoretical  writers  on  politics  as  Machiavel  and  Bodin. 
But  it  has  been  apt  to  degenerate  into  pedantry,  and  to  dis- 
appoint the  practical  statesman,  who  commonly  rejects  it  with 
scorn  ,  partly  because  civil  history  is  itself  defective,  seldom 
uiving  a  just  view  of  events,  and  still  less  frequently  of 
the  motives  of  those  concerned  in  them ;  partly  because  the 
history  of  mankind  is  far  less  copious  than  that  of  nature,  and, 
iii  much  that  relates  to  politics,  has  not  yet  had  time  to  fur- 
nish the  ground- work  of  a  sufficient  induction  ;  but  partly 
also  from  some  distinctive  circumstances  which  affect  our 
reasonings  in  moral  far  more  than  in  physical  science,  and 


CHAP.  HI.     REMAKES  ON  THE  INDUCTIVE  METHOD.  61 

which  deserve  to  be  considered,  so  far  at  least  as  to  sketch  the 
arguments  that  might  be  employed. 

71.  The  Baconian  logic,  as  has  been  already  said,  deduces 
universal  principles  from  select  observation  ;  that  is,  Induct;on 
from  particular,  and,  in  some  cases  of  experiment,  less  conciu- 
from  singular  instances.    It  may  easily  appear  to  one  theLfsub- 
conversant  with  the  syllogistic  method  less  legitimate  Jects- 
than  the  old  induction,  which  proceeded  by  an  exhaustive 
enumeration  of  particulars,1  and  at  most  warranting  but  a  pro- 
bable conclusion.     The  answer  to  this  objection  can  only  be 
found  in  the  acknowledged  uniformity  of  the  laws  of  nature,  so 
that  whatever  has  once  occurred  will,  under  absolutely  similar 
circumstances,  always  occur  again.     This  may  be  called  the 
suppressed    premise   of   every    Baconian  enthymeme,  every 
inference    from    observation    of  phenomena,   which   extends 
beyond  the    particular    case.     When   it  is   once   ascertained 
that  water  is  composed  of  one  proportion  of  oxygen  to  one  of 
hydrogen,  we  never  doubt  but  that  such  are  its  invariable 
constituents.     We  may  repeat  the  experiment  to  secure  our- 
selves against  the  risk  of  error  in  the  operation,  or  of  some 
unperceived  condition  that  may  have  affected  the  result ;  but, 
when  a  sufficient  number  of  trials  has  secured  us  against  tliis, 
an  invariable  law  of  nature  is  inferred  from  the  particular 
instance  :  nobody  conceives  that  one  pint  of  pure  water  can  be 
of  a  different  composition  from  another.     All  men,  even  the 
most  rude,  reason  upon  this  primary  maxim ;  but  they  reason 
inconclusively,  from  misapprehending  the  true  relations  of 
cause  and  effect  in  the  phenomena  to  which  they  direct  their 
attention.     It  is  by  the  sagacity  and  ingenuity  with  which 
Bacon  has  excluded  the  various  sources  of  error,  and  disen- 
gaged the  true  cause,  that  his  method  is  distinguished  from 
that  which  the  vulgar  practise. 

72.  It  is  required,  however,  for  the  validity  of  this  method, 
first,  that  there  should  be  a  strict  uniformity  in  the  j^^,,,,^ 
general  laws  of  nature,  from  which  we  can  infer  that  this  differ- 
what  has  been  will,  in  the  same  conditions,  be  again ;  ence' 
and,  secondly,  that  we  shall  be  able  to  perceive  and  estimate 
all  the  conditions  with  an  entire  and  exclusive  knowledge. 
The  first  is  granted  in  all  physical  phenomena ;  but  in  those 

1  [This  is  not  quite  an  accurate  account    assumed  a  general  truth  from  a  particular 
of  the  old  induction,  which  seldom  pro-    one.  — 1847.] 
ceeded  to  an  eihuuotm  eiiunieratiou,  but 


62  BACON.  PAKT  III. 

which  we  cannot  submit  to  experiment,  or  investigate  by  some 
such  method  as  Bacon  has  pointed  out,  we  often  find  our  phi- 
losophy at  fault  for  want  of  the  second.  Such  is  at  present 
the  case  with  respect  to  many  parts  of  chemistry ;  for  ex- 
ample, that  of  organic  substances,  which  we  can  analyze,  but 
as  yet  can  in  very  few  instances  recompose.  We  do  not 
know,  and,  if  we  did  know,  could  not  probably  command,  the 
entire  conditions  of  organic  bodies  (even  structurally,  nol  as 
living),  —  the  form,  as  Bacon  calls  it,  of  blood  or  milk  or  oak- 
galls.  But,  in  attempting  to  subject  the  actions  of  men  to  this 
inductive  philosophy,  we  are  arrested  by  the  want  of  both  the 
necessary  requisitions.  Matter  can  only  be  diverted  from  its 
obedience  to  unvarying  laws  by  the  control  of  mind ;  but  we 
have  to  inquire  whether  mind  is  equally  the  passive  instru- 
ment of  any  law.  We  have  to  open  the  great  problem  of 
human  liberty,  and  must  deny  even  a  disturbing  force  to  the 
will,  before  we  can  assume  that  all  actions  of  mankind  must, 
under  given  conditions,  preserve  the  same  necessary  train  of 
sequences  as  a  molecule  of  matter.  But,  if  this  be  answered 
affirmatively,  we  are  still  almost  as  far  removed  from  a  con- 
clusive result  as  before.  We  cannot,  without  contradicting 
every-day  experience,  maintain  that  all  men  are  determined 
alike  by  the  same  outward  circumstances :  we  must  have 
recourse  to  the  differences  of  temperament,  of  physical  con- 
stitution, of  casual  or  habitual  association.  The  former  alone, 
however,  are,  at  the  best,  subject  to  our  observation,  either  at 
the  time,  or,  as  is  most  common,  through  testimony ;  of  the 
latter,  no  being,  which  does  not  watch  the  movements  of  the 
soul  itself,  can  reach  more  than  a  probable  conjecture.  Sylla 
resigned  the  dictatorship ;  therefore  all  men  in  the  circum- 
stances of  Sylla  will  do  the  same,  —  is  an  argument  false  in 
one  sense  of  the  word  "  circumstances,"  and  useless  at  least  in 
any  other.  It  is  doubted  by  many,  whether  meteorology  will 
ever  be  well  understood,  on  account  of  the  complexity  of  the 
forces  concerned,  and  their  remoteness  from  the  apprehension 
of  the  senses.  Do  not  the  same  difficulties  apply  to  human 
affaire  ?  And  while  we  reflect  on  these  difficulties,  to  which 
we  must  add  those  which  spring  from  the  scantiness  of  our 
means  of  observation,  the  defectiveness  and  falsehood  of  tes- 
timony, especially  what  is  called  historical,  and  a  thousand 
other  errors  to  which  the  various  "  idola  of  the  world  and  the 
cave  "  expose  us,  we  shall  rather  be  astonished  that  so  many 


CHAP.  HI.     REMARKS  ON  THE  INDUCTIVE  METHOD.  63 

probable  rules  of  civil  prudence  have  been  treasured  up  and 
confirmed  by  experience,  than  disposed  to  give  them  a  higher 
place  in  philosophy  than  they  can  claim. 

73.  It  might  be  alleged  in  reply  to  these  considerations, 
that,  admitting  the  absence  of  a  strictly  scientific  cer- 

.    •    '  °j  •  ,          r  Considera- 

tainty  in  moral  reasoning,  we  have  yet,  as  seems  tions  on 
acknowledged  on  the  other  side,  a  great  body  of  *^eother 
probable  inferences,  in  the  extensive  knowledge  and 
sagacious  application  of  which  most  of  human  wisdom  con- 
sists. And  all  that  is  required  of  us,  in  dealing  either  with 
moral  evidence  or  with  the  conclusions  we  draw  from  it,  is  to 
estimate  the  probability  of  neither  too  high ;  an  error  from 
which  the  severe  and  patient  discipline  of  the  inductive  phi- 
losophy is  most  likely  to  secure  us.  It  would  be  added  by 
some,  that  the  theory  of  probabilities  deduces  a  wonderful 
degree  of  certainty  from  things  very  uncertain,  when  a  suf- 
ficient number  of  experiments  can  be  made ;  and  thus,  that 
events  depending  upon  the  will  of  mankind,  even  under  cir- 
cumstances the  most  anomalous  and  apparently  irreducible  to 
principles,  may  be  calculated  with  a  precision  inexplicable 
to  any  one  who  has  paid  little  attention  to  the  subject.  This, 
perhaps,  may  appear  rather  a  curious  application  of  mathe- 
matical science,  than  one  from  which  our  moral  reasonings 
are  likely  to  derive  much  benefit,  especially  as  the  conditions 
under  which  a  very  high  probability  can  mathematically  be 
obtained  involve  a  greater  number  of  trials  than  experience 
will  generally  furnish.  It  is,  nevertheless,  a  field  that  deserves 
to  be  more  fully  explored :  the  success  of  those  who  have 
attempted  to  apply  analytical  processes  to  moral  probabilities 
has  not  hitherto  been  very  encouraging,  inasmuch  as  they 
have  often  come  to  results  falsified  by  experience ;  but  a  more 
scrupulous  regard  to  all  the  conditions  of  each  problem  may 
perhaps  obviate  many  sources  of  error.1 

74.  It  seems,  upon  the  whole,  that  we  should  neither  con- 

1  A  calculation  was  published  not  long  looked  them.  One  among  many  is.  that 
eince,  said  to  be  on  the  authority  of  an  it  assumes  the  giving  an  unanimous  ver- 
eminent  living  philosopher,  according  tc  diet  at  all  to  be  voluntary :  whereas,  in 
•which,  granting  a  moderate  probability  practice,  the  jury  must  decide  one  way 
that  each  of  twelve  jurors  would  decide  or  the  other.  \Ve  must  deduct,  therefore, 
rightly,  the  chances  in  favor  of  the  recti-  a  fraction  expressing  the  probability  thai 
tude  of  their  unanimous  verdict  were  some  of  the  twelve  have  wrongly  conceded 
made  something  extravagantly  high  ;  I  their  opinions  to  the  rest.  One  danger  of 
think,  about  8,000  to  1.  It  is  more  easy  this  rather  favorite  application  of  mathe* 
to  perceive  the  fallacies  of  this  pretended  matical  principles  to  moral  probabilities, 
demonstration,  than  to  explain  how  a  as  indeed  it  is  of  statistical  tables  (a  re- 
man of  great  a/;uttuess  should  have  over-  mark  of  far  wider  extent  ,  is,  that,  by 


64 


BACON. 


PART  III. 


ceive  the  inductive  method  to  be  useless  in  regard  to  any  sub- 
Kesuitof  ject  but  physical  science,  nor  deny  the  peculiar  ad- 
the  whole,  vantages  it  possesses  in  those  inquiries  rather  than 
others.  What  must  in  all  studies  be  important,  is  the  habit 
of  turning  round  the  subject  of  our  investigation  in  every 
light,  the  observation  of  every  thing  that  is  peculiar,  the 
exclusion  of  all  that  we  find  on  reflection  to  be  extraneous. 
In  historical  and  antiquarian  researches,  in  all  critical  exami- 
nation which  turns  upon  facts,  in  the  scrutiny  of  judicial  evi- 
dence, a  great  part  of  Lord  Bacon's  method  —  not,  of  course, 
all  the  experimental  rules  of  the  Novum  Organum  —  has,  as 
I  conceive,  a  legitimate  application.1  I  would  refer  any  one 


considering  mankind  merely  as  units,  it 
practically  habituates  the  mind  to  a  moral 
and  social  levelling,  as  inconsistent  with  a 
just  estimate  of  men  as  it  is  characteristic 
of  the  present  age. 

1  The  principle  of  Bacon's  prerogative 
instances,  and  perhaps  in  some  cases  a 
very  analogous  application  of  them,  ap- 
pear to  hold  in  our  inquiries  in  to  historical 
evidence.  The  fact  sought  to  be  ascer- 
tained in  the  one  subject  corresponds  to 
the  physical  law  ha  the  other.  The  testi- 
monies, as  we,  though  rather  laxly,  call 
chem,  or  passages  in  books  from  which  we 
infer  the  fact,  correspond  to  the  observa- 
tions or  experiments  from  which  we 
deduce  the  law.  The  necessity  of  a  suffi- 
cient induction  by  searching  for  all  proof 
that  may  bear  on  the  question,  is  as  ma- 
nifest in  one  case  as  in  the  other.  The 
exclusion  of  precarious  and  inconclusive 
evidence  is  alike  indispensable  in  both. 
The  selection  of  prerogative  instances,  or 
such  as  carry  with  them  satisfactory  con- 
viction, requires  the  same  sort  of  inven- 
tive and  reasoning  powers.  It  is  easy  to 
illustrate  this  by  examples.  Thus,  in  the 
controversy  concerning  the  Icon  Bosilike, 
the  admission  of  Gauden's  claim  by  Lord 
Clarendon  is  in  the  nature  of  a  preroga- 
tive instance:  it  renders  the  supposition 
of  the  falsehood  of  that  claim  highly 
improbable.  But  the  many  second-hand 
and  hearsay  testimonies,  which  may  be 
alleged  on  the  other  side  to  prove  that  the 
book  was  written  by  King  Charles,  arc  not 
prerogative  instances,  because  then-  false- 
hood will  be  found  to  involve  very  little 
improbability.  So,  in  a  different  contro- 
versy, the  silence  of  some  of  the  fathers, 
ius  to  the  text,  commonly  called,  of  the 
three  heavenly  witnesses,  even  while  ex- 
pounding the  context  of  the  passage, 
may  be  reckoned  a  prero^atire  instance  ; 
a  decisive  proof  that  they  did  not  know 
it  or  did  not  believe  it  genuine ;  because, 


if  they  did,  no  motive  can  be  conceived 
for  the  omission.  But  the  silence  of 
Laureutius  Valla,  as  to  its  absence  from 
the  manuscripts  on  which  he  commented 
is  no  prerogative  instance  to  prove  that  it 
was  contained  in  them,  because  it  is  easy 
to  perceive  that  he  might  have  motives  for 
saying  nothing ;  and  though  the  negative 
argument,  as  it  is  culled,  or  inference  that 
a  fact  is  not  true  because  such  and  such 
persons  have  not  mentioned  it,  is,  taken 
generally,  weaker  than  positive  testimony, 
it  will  frequently  supply  prerogative  in- 
stances where  the  latter  does  not.  Lau- 
noy,  in  a  little  treatise.  De  Auctoritate 
Negantis  Argument!,  which  displays  more 
plain  sense  than  ingenuity  or  philosophy, 
lays  it  down  that  a  fact  of  a  public  nature, 
which  is  not  mentioned  by  any  writer 
within  two  hundred  years  of  the  time, 
supposing,  of  course,  that  there  is  extant 
a  competent  number  of  writers  who  would 
naturally  have  mentioned  it,  is  not  to  be 
believed.  The  period  seems  rather  arbi- 
trary, and  was  possibly  so  considered  by 
himself :  but  the  general  principle  is  ot 
the  highest  importance  in  historical  cri- 
ticism. Thus,  in  the  once-celebrated 
question  of  Pope  Joan,  the  silence  of  all 
writers  near  the  time,  as  to  so  wonderful 
a  fact,  was  justly  deemed  a  kind  of  pre- 
ar^ument,  when  set  in  opposition 
to  the  many  repetitions  of  the  story  in 
later  ages.  But  the  silence  of  Gildas  and 
Bede  aa  to  the  victories  of  Arthur  is  no 
such  argument  against  their  reality,  be- 
cause they  were  not  under  an  historical 
obligation,  or  any  strong  motive  which 
would  prevent  their  silence.  Generally 
speaking,  the  more  anomalous  and  inter 
csting  an  event  is,  the  stronger  i.s  the 
argument  against  its  truth  from  the  «i- 
leuce  of  contemporaries,  on  account  of 
the  propensity  of  mankind  to  believe  and 
recount  the  marvellous ;  and  the  weaker: 
is  the  argument  from  the  testimony  of 


CHAP   III.     HIS  APTITUDE  FOE  MORAL  SUBJECTS.  65 

who  may  doubt  this  to  his  History  of  Winds,  as  one  sample 
of  what  we  mean  by  the  Baconian  method,  and  ask  whether 
a  kind  of  investigation,  analogous  to  what  is  therein  pursued 
for  the  sake  of  eliciting  physical  truths,  might  not  be  em- 
ployed in  any  analytical  process  where  general  or  even  par- 
ticular facts  are  sought  to  be  known.  Or,  if  an  example  is 
required  of  such  an  investigation,  let  us  look  at  the  copious 
induction  from  the  past  and  actual  history  of  mankind,  upor 
which  Malthus  established  his  general  theory  of  the  causes 
which  have  retarded  the  natural  progress  of  population 
Upon  all  these  subjects  before  mentioned,  there  has  been  an 
astonishing  improvement  in  the  reasoning  of  the  learned,  and 
perhaps  of  the  world  at  large,  since  the  time  of  Bacon,  though 
much  remains  very  defective.  In  what  degree  it  may  be 
owing  to  the  prevalence  of  a  physical  philosophy  founded 
upon  his  inductive  logic,  it  might  not  be  uninteresting  to 
inquire.1 

75.  It  is  probable  that  Lord  Bacon  never  much  followed 
up  in  his  own  mind  that  application  of  his  method 
to  psychological,  and  still  less  to  moral  and  political   aptitude  for 
subjects,  which  he  has  declared  himself  to  intend,   moral  sub- 
The  distribution  of  the  Instauratio  Magna,  which  he 
has  prefixed  to  it,  relates  wholly  to  physical  science.     He  has 
in  no  one  instance  given  an  example,  in  the  Novum  Organum, 
from  moral  philosophy,  and  one  only,  that  of  artificial  mem- 


later  times  for  the  same  reason.  A  simi- 
lar analogy  holds  also  in  jurisprudence. 
The  principle  of  our  law,  rejecting  hear- 
say and  secondary  evidence,  is  founded 
on  the  Baconian  rule.  Fifty  persons  may 
depose  that  they  have  heard  of  a  fact  or  of 
its  circumstances ;  but  the  eye-witness  is 
the  prerogative  instance.  It  would  carry 
us  too  far  to  develop  this  at  length,  even 
if  I  were  fully  prepared  to  do  so ;  but  this 
much  may  lead  us  to  think,  that  whoever 
shall  fill  up  that  lamentable  desideratum, 
the  logic  of  evidence,  ought  to  have  fami- 
liarized himself  with  the  Novum  Organum. 
1  "  The  effects  which  Bacon's  writings 
have  hitherto  produced  have  indeed  been 
far  more  conspicuous  in  physics  than  in 
the  science  of  mind.  Even  here,  however, 
they  have  been  great  and  most  important, 
as  well  as  in  some  collateral  branches  of 
knowledge,  such  as  natural  jurisprudence, 
political  economy,  criticism,  and  morals, 
which  spring  up  from  the  same  root,  or 
rather  which  are  branches  of  that  tree  of 
which  the  science  of  mind  is  the  trunlr  " 

VOL.  in.  5 


—  Stewart's  Philosophical  Essays,  Prelim. 
Dissertation.  The  principal  advantage, 
perhaps,  of  those  habits  of  reasoning  which 
the  Baconian  methods,  whether  learned 
directly  or  through  the  many  disciples  of 
that  school,  have  a  tendency  to  generate, 
is,  that  they  render  men  cautious  and 
pains-taking  in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  and 
therefore  restrain  them  from  deciding  too 
soon.  "  Nemo  reperitur  qui  in  rebus  ipsis 
ct  experientia  moram  fecerit  legitiinam." 
These  words  are  more  frequently  true  of 
moral  and  political  reasoners  than  of  any 
others.  Men  apply  historical  or  personal 
experience  ;  but  they  apply  it  hastily,  and 
without  giving  themselves  time  for  either 
a  copious  or  an  exact  induction ;  the  great 
majority  being  too  much  influenced  by 
passion,  party-spirit,  or  vanity ,  or  perhaps 
by  affections  morally  right,  but  not  the 
less  dangerous  in  reasoning  to  maintain 
the  patient  and  dispassionate  suspense  of 
judgment  which  ought  to  be  the  condition 
of  our  inquiries. 


66  BACON.  PART  IIL 

ory,  from  what  he  would  have  called  logic.1  But  we  must 
constantly  remember  that  the  philosophy  of  Bacon  was  left 
exceedingly  incomplete.  Many  lives  would  not  have  sufficed 
for  what  he  had  planned,  and  he  gave  only  the  leisure  hours 
of  his  own.  It  is  evident  that  he  had  turned  his  thoughts  to 
physical  philosophy  rather  for  an  exercise  of  his  reasoning 
faculties,  and  out  of  his  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  than 
from  any  peculiar  aptitude  for  their  subjects,  much  less  any 
advantage  of  opportunity  for  their  cultivation.  He  was  more 
eminently  the  philosopher  of  human  than  of  general  nature. 
Hence  he  is  exact  as  well  as  profound  in  all  his  reflections  on 
civil  life  and  mankind ;  while  his  conjectures  in  natural  phi- 
losophy, though  often  very  acute,  are  apt  to  wander  far  from 
the  truth  in  consequence  of  his  defective  acquaintance  with 
the  phenomena  of  nature.  His  Centuries  of  Natural  History 
give  abundant  proof  of  this.  He  is,  in  all  these  inquiries,  like 
one  doubtfully,  and  by  degrees,  making  out  a  distant  prospect, 
but  often  deceived  by  the  haze.  But  if  we  compare  what 
may  be  found  in  the  sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  books  De  Aug- 
mentis,  in  the  Essays,  the  History  of  Henry  VII.,  and  the 
various  short  treatises  contained  in  his  works  on  moral  and 
political  wisdom  and  on  human  nature,  from  experience  of 
which  all  such  wisdom  is  drawn,  with  the  Rhetoric,  Ethics, 
and  Politics  of  Aristotle,  or  with  the  historians  most  cele- 
brated for  their  deep  insight  into  civil  society  and  human 
character,  —  with  Thucydides,  Tacitus,  Philip  de  Comines, 
Machiavel,  Davila,  Hume,  —  we  shall,  I  think,  find  that  one 
man  may  almost  be  compared  with  all  of  these  together.  When 
Galileo  is  named  as  equal  to  Bacon,  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  Galileo  was  no  moral  or  political  philosopher ;  and,  in  this 
department,  Leibnitz  certainly  falls  very  short  of  Bacon. 
Burke,  perhaps,  comes,  of  all  modern  writers,  the  nearest  to 
him ;  but,  though  Bacon  may  not  be  more  profound  than 
Burke,  he  is  more  copious  and  comprehensive. 

76.  The  comparison  of  Bacon  and  Galileo  is  naturally  built 
comparison  uPon  ^e  influence  which,  in  the  same  age,  they 
of  Bacon  exerted  in  overthrowing  the  philosophy  of  the 
and  Galileo.  8ChooiS)  an(j  jn  founding  that  new  discipline  of  real 
science  which  has  rendered  the  last  centuries  glorious.  Hume 

1  Nov.  Organ.,  il.  26.  It  may,  how-  mentis,  lib.  vii.  cap.  3,  which  show  that 
ever,  be  observed,  that  we  find  a  few  he  had  some  notions  of  moral  induction 
passages  in  the  ethical  part  of  De  Aug-  germinating  in  his  mind. 


CHAP.  m.     COMPARISON  OF  BACON  AND  GALILEO.  67 

has  given  the  preference  to  the  latter,  who  made  accessions  to 
the  domain  of  human  knowledge  so  splendid,  so  inaccessible 
to  cavil,  so  unequivocal  in  their  results,  that  the  majority  of 
mankind  would  perhaps  be  carried  along  with  this  decision. 
There  seems,  however,  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  mind  of  Bacon 
was  more  comprehensive  and  profound.  But  these  compari- 
sons are  apt  to  involve  incommensurable  relations.  In  their 
own  intellectual  characters,  they  bore  no  great  resemblance 
to  each  other.  Bacon  had  scarce  any  knowledge  of  geome- 
try, and  so  far  ranks  much  below  not  only  Galileo,  but  Des- 
cartes, Newton,  and  Leibnitz,  —  all  signalized  by  wonderful 
discoveries  in  the  science  of  quantity,  or  in  that  part  of  physics 
which  employs  it.  He  has,  in  one  of  the  profound  aphorisms 
of  the  Xovum  Organum,  distinguished  the  two  species  of  plii- 
losophical  genius ;  one  more  apt  to  perceive  the  differences  of 
things,  the  other  their  analogies.  In  a  mind  of  the  highest 
order,  neither  of  these  powers  will  be  really  deficient ;  and  his 
own  inductive  method  is  at  once  the  best  exercise  of  both,  and 
the  best  safeguard  against  the  excess  of  either.  But,  upon  the 
whole,  it  may  certainly  be  said,  that  the  genius  of  Lord  Bacon 
was  naturally  more  inclined  to  collect  the  resemblances  of 
nature  than  to  note  her  differences.  This  is  the  case  with 
men  like  him  of  sanguine  temper,  warm  fancy,  and  brilliant 
wit ;  but  it  is  not  the  frame  of  mind  which  is  best  suited  to 
strict  reasoning. 

77.  It  is  no  proof  of  a  solid  acquaintance  with  Lord  Bacon's 
philosophy,  to  deify  his  name  as  the  ancient  schools  did  those 
of  their  founders,  or  even  to  exaggerate  the  powers  of  his 
genius.  Powers  they  were  surprisingly  great,  yet  limited  in 
their  range,  and  not  in  all  respects  equal ;  nor  could  they 
overcome  every  impediment  of  circumstance.  Even  of  Bacon 
it  may  be  said,  that  he  attempted  more  than  he  has  achieved, 
and  perhaps  more  than  he  clearly  apprehended.  His  objects 
appear  sometimes  indistinct,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  they  are 
always  consistent.  In  the  Advancement  of  "Learning,  he 
aspired  to  fill  up,  or  at  least  to  indicate,  the  deficiencies  in 
every  department  of  knowledge  :  he  gradually  confined  himself 
to  philosophy,  and  at  length  to  physics.  But  few  of  his  works 
can  be  deemed  complete,  not  even  the  treatise  De  Augmentis, 
which  comes  nearer  to  this  than  most  of  the  rest.  Hence  the 
study  of  Lord  Bacon  is  difficult,  and  not,  as  I  conceive,  very 
well  adapted  to  those  who  have  made  no  progress  whatever 


68 


BACON. 


PAKT  III 


in  the  exact  sciences,  nor  accustomed  themselves  to  independ- 
ent thinking.  They  have  never  been  made  a  text-book  in  our 
universities ;  though,  after  a  judicious  course  of  preparatory 
studies,  by  which  I  mean  a  good  foundation  in  geometry  and 
the  philosophical  principles  of  grammar,  the  first  book  of  the 
Novum  Organum  might  be  very  advantageously  combined 
with  the  instruction  of  an  enlightened  lecturer.1 


1  It  by  no  means  is  to  be  inferred,  that 
because  the  actual  text  of  Bacon  ia  not 
always  such  as  can  be  well  understood 
by  very  young  men,  I  object  to  their 
being  led  to  the  real  principles  of  induc- 
tive philosophy,  which  alone  will  teach 
them  to  think,  firmly  but  not  presump- 
tuously, for  themselves.  Few  defects,  on 
the  contrary,  in  our  system  of  education, 
are  more  visible  than  the  want  of  an  ade- 
quate course  of  logic  ;  and  this  is  not 
likely  to  be  rectified  so  long  as  the  Aris- 
totelian methods  challenge  that  denomi- 
nation exclusively  of  all  other  aids  to  the 
reasoning  faculties.  The  position  that 
nothing  else  is  to  be  called  logic,  were  it 
even  agreeable  to  the  derivation  of  the 
word,  which  it  is  not,  or  to  the  usage  of 
the  ancients,  which  is  by  no  means  uni- 
formly the  case,  or  to  that  of  modern 
philosophy  and  correct  language,  which 
IB  certainly  not  at  all  the  case,  is  no  an- 
Bwer  to  the  question,  whether  what  we 
call  logic  does  not  deserve  to  be  taught 
at  all. 

A  living  writer  of  high  reputation,  who 
has  at  least  fully  understood  his  own  sub- 
ject, and  illustrated  it  better  than  his 
predecessors,  from  a  more  enlarged  reading 
and  thinking,  wherein  his  own  acuteness 
has  been  improved  by  the  writers  of  the 
Baconian  school,  has  been  unfortunately 
instrumental,  by  the  very  merits  of  his 
treatise  on  Logic,  in  keeping  up  the  preju- 
dices on  this  subject,  which  have  gener- 
ally been  deemed  characteristic  of  the  uni- 
versity to  which  he  belonged.  All  the 
reflection  I  have  been  able  to  give  to  the 
subject  has  convinced  me  of  the  inefficacy 
of  the  syllogistic  art  in  enabling  us  to 
think  rightly  for  ourselves,  or,  which  is 
part  of  thinking  rightly,  to  detect  those  fal- 
lacies of  others  which  might  impose  on  our 
understanding  before  we  have  acquired 
that  art.  It  has  been  often  alleged,  and, 
ns  far  as  I  can  judge,  with  perfect  truth, 
that  no  man,  who  can  be  worth  answering, 
ever  commits,  except  through  mere  inad- 
vertence, any  paralogisms  which  the  com- 
mon logic  serves  to  point  out.  It  is-  easy 
enough  to  construct  syllogisms  which  sin 
against  its  rules  ;  but  the  question  is,  by 
whom  they  were  employed.  For  though 
it  is  not  uncommon,  as  I  am  aware,  to 


represent  an  adversary  as  reasoning  illogi- 
cally,  this  is  generally  effected  by  putting 
his  argument  into  our  own  words.  The 
great  fault  of  all,  over  induction,  or  the 
assertion  of  a  general  premise  upon  an 
insufficient  examination  of  particulars, 
cannot  be  discovered  or  cured  by  any  logi- 
cal skill ;  and  this  is  the  error  into  which 
men  really  fall,  not  that  of  omitting  to 
distribute  the  middle  term,  though  it  comes 
in  effect,  and  often  in  appearance,  to  the 
same  thing  I  do  not  contend  that  the 
rules  of  syllogism,  which  are  very  short 
and  simple,  ought  not  to  be  learned ;  or 
that  there  may  not  be  some  advantage  in 
occasionally  stating  our  own  argument,  or 
calling  on  another  to  state  his,  in  a  regu- 
lar form  (an  advantage,  however,  rather 
dialectical,  which  is,  in  other  words,  rhe- 
torical, than  one  which  affects  the  reason- 
ing faculties  themselves) ;  nor  do  I  deny 
that  it  is  philosophically  worth  while  to 
know  that  all  gem-rat  reasoning  by  worrit 
may  be  reduced  into  syllogism,  as  it  is  to 
know  that  most  of  plane  geometry  may 
be  resolved  into  the  superposition, of  equal 
triangles ;  but  to  represent  this  portion  of 
logical  science  as  the  whole,  appears  to  me 
almost  like  teaching  the  scholar  Euclid's 
axioms,  and  the  axiomatic  theorem  to 
which  I  have  alluded,  and  calling  this  the 
science  of  geometry.  The  following  pas- 
sage from  the  I'ort-ltoyal  logic  is  very 
judicious  and  candid,  giving  as  much  to 
the  Aristotelian  system  as  it  deserves : 
"  Cette  partio,  que  nous  avons  maintenant 
4  traiter,  qui  comprend  les  regies  du  rai- 
sonnement.  cst  estimee  la  plus  iuiportante 
de  la  logique,  et  c'est  presque  1'unique 
qu'on  y  trai te  avec  quelque  snin  ;  niais  il 
y  a  sujet  de  douter  si  elle  cst  aussi  utile 
qu'on  se  I'imagiue.  La  plupart  des  er- 
reurs  des  homines,  conime  nous  avons  dcji 
dit  ailleurs,  viennent  bien  plus  de  ee  qu'ils 
raisonnent  sur  de  faux  principes.  quo  non 
pas  de  ce  qu'ils  raisonnent  mal  suivant 
leurs  principes.  11  arrive  rnrement  qu'on 
se  laisse  tromper  par  des  raisonuemens  qui 
ne  soieut  faux  que  parceque  la  conse- 
quence en  est  mal  tiree;  et  cenx  qui  ne 
seroient  pas  capables  d'en  reconnoitre  la 
foussete  par  la  seule  lumiere  de  la  raison, 
nc  le  scroient  pas  ordiuaireuient  d'entendre 
les  regies  que  Ton  en  donne,  et  encore 


CHAP.  in.    HIS   PREJUDICE  AGAINST  MATHEMATICS. 


78.    The   ignorance   of  Bacon  in  mathematics,  and,  what 
was  much   worse,   his   inadequate   notions   of  their  mg  preju_ 
utility,  must  be  reckoned  among  the  chief  defects  in  dice  against 
his  philosophical  writings.     In  a  remarkable  passage  ^^ 
of  the   Advancement  of  Learning,  he  held  mathe- 
matics to  be  a  part  of  metaphysics ;   but  the  plaee  of  this  is 
altered  in  the  Latin,  and  they  are  treated  as  merely  auxiliary 
or  instrumental  to  physical  inquiry.     He  had  some  prejudice 
against  pure  mathematics,  and  thought  they  had  been  unduly 
elevated  in  comparison  with  the  realities  of  nature.     "  I  know 
not,"  he  says,  "  how  it  has  arisen  that  mathematics  and  logic, 
which  ought  to  be  the  serving-maids  of  physical  philosophy, 


moins  de  Ics  appliquer.  Neanmoins,  quand 
on  ne  considereroit  ces  regies  que  comme 
des  verites  speculatives,  elles  serviroient 
toujours  i  exercer  1'esprit ;  et  de  plus,  on 
ne  peut  nier  qu'elles  n'aient  quelque  usage 
en  quelques  rencontres,  et  a  1'egard  de 
qurtlques  personnes,  qui,  etant  d'un  natu- 
rel  vif  et  penetrant.ne  se  laisseat  quelque- 
fois  tromper  par  des  fausses  consequences, 
que  faute  d'attention,  i  quoi  la  reflexion 
qu'Us  feroient  sur  ces  regies  seroit  capable 
de  remedier." —  Art  de  Penser,  part  iii. 
How  different  is  this  sensible  passage  from 
one  quoted  from  some  anonymous  writer  in 
Whately's  Logic,  p.  3i !  —  ''A  fallacy  con- 
sists of  an  ingenious  mixture  of  truth 
and  falsehood  so  entangled,  so  intimately 
blended,  that  the  fallacy  is,  in  the  cheini- 
;al  phrase,  held  in  solution :  one  drop  of 
sound  logic  la  that  test  which  immediately 
disunites  them,  makes  the  foreign  sub- 
tance  visible,  and  precipitates  it  to  the 
Dottom.-'  One  fallacy,  it  might  be  an- 
swered, as  common  as  any,  is  the  false 
jn-7  o»T/,  the  misleading  the  mind  by  a 
comparison  where  there  is  no  real  propor- 
tion or  resemblance.  The  chemist's  test 
is  the  necessary  means  of  detecting  the 
foreign  substance ;  if  the  "  drop  of  sound 
logic ''  be  such,  it  is  strange  that  lawyers, 
mathematicians,  and  mankind  in  general, 
should  so  sparingly  employ  it;  the  fact 
being  notorious,  that  those  mo=t  eminent 
for  strong  reasoning  powers  are  rarely 
conversant  with  the  syllogistic  method. 
It  is  also  well  known,  that  these  •'  iuti- 
matelv  blended  mixtures  of  truth  and 
falsehood :I  perplex  no  man  of  plain  sense, 
except  when  they  are  what  is  called  extra- 
logical  ;  cases  wherein  the  art  of  syllogism 
is  of  no  use. 

[The  syllogistic  ^logic  appears  to  hare 
been  more  received  into  favor  of  late 
among  philosophers,  both  here  and  on  the 
Continent,  than  it  was  in  th«  two  pre- 
ceding centuries.  The  main  question,  it 
ia  to  be  kept  in  mind,  does  not  relate  to  its 


principles  as  a  science,  but  to  the  practical 
usefulness  of  its  rules  as  an  art.  An  able 
writer  has  lately  observed,  that  "  he  must 
be  fortunate  in  the  clearness  of  his  mind, 
who,  knowing  the  logical  mode,  is  never 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  it  to  destroy 
ambiguity  or  heighten  evidence,  and  par- 
ticularly so  in  his  opponents,  who.  in 
verbal  or  written  controversy,  never  finds 
it  necessary  to  employ  it  in  trying  their  ar- 
guments."" Penny  Cyclopaedia,  art.  ••  Syl- 
logism." Every  one  must  judge  of  this  by 
his  own  experience :  the  profound  thinker 
whose  hand  seems  discernible  in  this  arti- 
cle, has  a  strong  claim  to  authority  in 
favor  of  the  utility  of  the  syllogistic  meth- 
od ;  yet  we  cannot  help  remembering  that 
it  is  verv  rarely  employed  even  in  contro- 
versy, where  I  really  believe  it  to  be  a 
valuable  weapon  against  an  antagonist, 
and  capable  of  producing  no  small  effect 
on  the  indifferent  reader  or  hearer,  espe- 
cially if  he  is  not  of  a  very  sharp  appre- 
hension ;  and  moreover  that,  as  I  at  least 
believe,  the  proportion  of  mathematical, 
political,  or  theological  reasoners.  who 
hire  acquired  or  retained  any  tolerable 
expertness  in  the  technical  part  of  logic, 
is  far  from  high,  nor  am  I  aw\re  that 
.they  fall  into  fallacies  for  want  of  know- 
ledge of  it :  but  I  mean  strictly  such 
fallacies  as  the  syllogistic  method  alone 
seems  to  correct."  What  conic*  I 
to  syllogistic  reasoning  in  practice  is  that 
of  geometry:  as  thus.  A=B;  butC  =  A; 
ergo,  C  =  B,  is  essentially  a  syllogism. 
but  not  according  to  form.  If,  however, 
equality  of  magnitude  may  be  considered 
as  identity,  according  to  the  dictum  of 
Aristotle,  b>  TOVTMf  j)  iaonic  evortK, 
the  foregoing  is  regular  in  logical  form; 
and  if  we  take  A,  B,  and  C  for  ratios, 
which  are  properly  identical,  not  equal, 
this  may  justly  be  called  a  syllogism  But 
those  who  contend  most  for  the  formal 
logic  seldom  much  regard  its  use  in  geo- 
metrical science.  —  lSl'7.} 


70  BACON.  PART  IH. 

yet  affecting  to  vaunt  the  certainty  that  belongs  to  them,  pre- 
sume to  exercise  a  dominion  over  her."  It  is,  in  my  opinion, 
erroneous  to  speak  of  geometry,  which  relates  to  the  realities 
of  space,  and  to  natural  objects  so  far  as  extended,  as  a  mere 
handmaid  of  physical  philosophy,  and  not  rather  a  part  of  it. 
Playfair  has  made  some  good  remarks  on  the  advantages 
derived  to  experimental  philosophy  itself  from  the  mere 
application  of  geometry  and  algebra.  And  one  of  the  reflec- 
tions which  this  ought  to  excite  is,  that  we  are  not  to  conceive, 
as  some  hastily  do,  that  there  can  be  no  real  utility  to  man- 
kind, even  of  that  kind  of  utility  which  consists  in  multiplying 
the  conveniences  and  luxuries  of  life,  springing  from  theo- 
retical and  speculative  inquiry.  The  history  of  algebra,  so 
barren  in  the  days  of  Tartaglia  and  Vieta,  so  productive  of 
wealth,  when  applied  to  dynamical  calculations  in  our  own, 
may  be  a  sufficient  answer. 

79.  One  of  the  petty  blemishes,  which,  though  lost  in  the 
Bacon's  ex-  splendor   of  Lord    Bacon's    excellences,   it   is    not 
cess  of  wit.   unfair  to  mention,  is  connected  with  the  peculiar 
characteristics  of  his  mind :  he  is  sometimes  too  metaphorical 
and  witty.     His  remarkable  talent  for  discovering  analogies 
seems  to  have  inspired  him  with  too  much  regard  to  them  as 
arguments,   even   when   they  must  appear  to  any  common 
reader  fanciful  and  far-fetched.     His  terminology,  chiefly  for 
the  same  reason,  is  often  a  little  affected,  and,  in  Latin,  rather 
barbarous.     The  divisions  of  his  prerogative  instances  in  the 
Novum   Organum  are  not  always  founded  upon  intelligible 
distinctions.     And  the  general  obscurity  of  the  style,  neither 
himself  nor  his  assistants  being  good  masters  of  the  Latin 
language,  which  at  the  best  is  never  flexible  or  copious  enough 
for  our  philosophy,  renders  the  perusal  of  both    his    great 
works  too  laborious  for  the  impatient  reader.     Brucker  has 
well  observed,  that  the  Novum  Organum  has  been  neglected 
by  the  generality,  and  proved  of  far  less  service  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  been  in  philosophy,  in  consequence  of  these 
very  defects,  as  well  as  the  real  depth  of  the  author's  mind.1 

80.  What  has  been  the  fame  of  Bacon,  "  the  wisest,  great 
«st   of  mankind,"  it  is  needless  to  say.     What  has  been  his 

1  "  Legenda  ipsa  nobilisfiraa  tractatio  num  artificio  lectorem  non  remoraretur, 
abillisest.  qui  in  rerum  naturalium  inqui-  longe  plura.  quain  fartum  est,  rontuiirent 
gitione  feliciter  progredi  cupiunt.  Quac  si  ad  philosophic  emundationem.  His  cnim 
paulo  plus  luminis  et  pcrspicuitatis  babe-  obstantibus  a  pit-risque  hoc  orgnnum  ne- 
wt, et  uovorum  tcruiinoriuu  et  partitio-  glectuiu  est."  —  Hist.  I'hilos.,  v.99. 


CHAP  HI  HIS  FAME  ON  THE  CONTINENT.  71 

real  influence  over  mankind,  how  much  of  our  enlarged  and 
exact  knowledge  may  be  attributed  to  his  inductive  Fame  of 
method,  what  of  this  again  has  been  due  to  a  thorough  the°conti- 
study  of  his  writings,  and  what  to  an  indirect  and  nent- 
secondary  acquaintance  with  them,  are  questions  of  another 
kind,  and  less  easily  solved.  Stewart,  the  philosopher  who 
has  dwelt  most  on  the  praises  of  Bacon,  while  he  conceives 
him  to  have  exercised  a  considerable  influence  over  the  Eng- 
lish men  of  science  in  the  seventeenth  century,  supposes,  on 
the  authority  of  Montucla,  that  he  did  not  "  command  the 
general  admiration  of  Europe,"  till  the  publication  of  the 
preliminary  discourse  to  the  French  Encyclopaedia  by  Diderot 
and  D'Alembert.  This,  however,  is  by  much  too  precipitate 
a  conclusion.  He  became  almost  immediately  known  on  the 
Continent.  Gassendi  was  one  of  his  most  ardent  admirers. 
Descartes  mentions  him,  I  believe,  once  only,  in  a  letter  tc 
Mersenne  in  1632  ;l  but  he  was  of  all  men  the  most  unwill- 
ing to  praise  a  contemporary.  It  may  be  said  that  these 
were  philosophers,  and  that  their  testimony  does  not  imply  the 
admiration  of  mankind.  But  writers  of  a  very  different  cha- 
racter mention  him  in  a  familiar  manner.  Richelieu  is  said 
to  have  highly  esteemed  Lord  Bacon.2  And  it  may  in  some 
measure  be  due  to  this,  that  in  the  Sentimens  de  1'Academie 
Franfaise  sur  le  Cid,  he  is  alluded  to  simply  by  the  name 
Bacon,  as  one  well  known.3  Voiture,  in  a  letter  to  Costar, 
about  the  same  time,  bestows  high  eulogy  on  some  passages 
of  Bacon  which  his  correspondent  had  sent  to  him,  and 
observes  that  Horace  would  have  been  astonished  to  hear  a 
barbarian  Briton  discourse  in  such  a  style.4  The  treatise  De 
Augmentis  was  republished  in  France  in  1624,  the  year  after 
its  appearance  in  England.  It  was  translated  into  French  as 
early  as  1632;  no  great  proofs  of  neglect.  Editions  came 

1  Vol.  vi.  p.  210,  edit.  Cousin.  qui  n'ait  etc  deguise'  de  la  sorte  par  les 

1  The  only  authority  that  I  can  now  sages  du  vieux  temps  pour  la  rendre  plus 

quote  for  this  is  not  very  good,  that  of  utile  aux  peuples." 

Aubrey's  Manuscripts,   which  I  find   in  "  P.  44  (1633). 

Seward's  Anecdotes,  iv.  328.    But  it  seems  *  "J'ai  trouve  parfaitement  beau  tout 

not  improbable.    The  same  book  quotes  ce  que  vous  me  mandez  de  Bacon.     Mais 

Balzac  as  saying,   "Croyons  done,  pour  ne  vous  semble  t'il  pas   qu'Horace,   qui 

1'amour  du  Chancelier  Bacon,  que  toutes  disoit,  Visam  Britannos  hospitibus  ferog, 

les  folies  des  anciens  sont  sages ;  et  tous  seroit  bien  etonnfi  d'entendre  un  barbare 

leurs  songes  mysteres,  et  de  celles-li  qui  discourir  comme  cela?"    Costar  is  said  by 

sont   eKtimees   pures   fables,   il  n'y  en  a  Bay  le  to  have  borrowed  much  from  Bacon, 

pas  une,  quelque  bizarre  et  extravagante  La  Mothe  le  Vayer  mentions  him  in  hi* 

qu'elle  soil,  qui  n'ait  son  fondement  dans  Dialogues:   in  fact,  instances  are  nume- 

i'tistoire,  si  J'on  en  veut  croire  Bacon,  et  rous. 


72 


BACON. 


PART  in. 


ont  in  Holland,  1645,  1652,  and  1662.  Even  the  Novum 
Organum,  which,  as  has  been  said,  never  became  so  popular 
as  his  other  writings,  was  thrice  printed  in  Holland,  in  16  !">, 
1650,  and  1660.1  Leibnitz  and  Puffendorf  are  loud  in  their 
expressions  of  admiration,  the  former  ascribing  to  him  the 
revival  of  true  philosophy  as  fully  as  we  can  at  present.-  I 
should  be  more  inclined  to  doubt  whether  he  were  adequately 
valued  by  his  countrymen  in  his  own  time,  or  in  the  immedi- 
ately subsequent  period.  Under  the  first  Stuarts,  there  was 
little  taste  among  studious  men  but  for  theology,  and  chiefly 
for  a  theology  which,  proceeding  with  an  extreme  deference 
to  authority,  could  not  but  generate  a  disposition  of  mind, 
even  upon  other  subjects,  alien  to  the  progressive  and  inquisi- 
tive spirit  of  the  inductive  philosophy.3  The  institution  of 
the  Royal  Society,  or  rather  the  love  of  physical  science  out 
of  which  that  institution  arose,  in  the  second  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  made  England  resound  with  the  name 
of  her  illustrious  chancellor.  Few  now  spoke  of  him  without 


1  Montagu's  Life  of  Bacon,  p.  407.    He 
has  not  mentioned  an  edition  at  Stras- 
burg,  1635,  which  is  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum. 

There  is  also  an  edition,  without  time 
or  place,  in  the  catalogue  of  the  British 
Museum. 

2  Brucker,  v.  95.     Stewart    says  that 
"Bayle  does  not  give  above  twelve  lines 
to  Bacon ; "  but  he  calls  him  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  his  age,  and  the  length  of 
an  article  in  Bayle  was  never  designed 
to  bo  a  measure  of  the  merit  of  its  subject. 
—  [The  reception  of  Bacon's  philosophical 
writings  on  the  Continent  has  been  elabo- 
rately proved  against   Stewart,  in  a  dis- 
sertation by  Mr.  Macvey  Napier,  published 
in  the  eighth  volume  of  the  Transactions  of 
the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh.— 1842.] 

3  It  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with 
persons,  especially  who  are  or  have  been 
engaged  in  teaching  others  dogmatically 
\viiat,   they   have  themselves   received  in 
the  like  manner,  to  whom  the  inductive 
philosophy  appears  a  mere  school  of  scep- 
ticism, or  at  best  wholly  inapplicable  to 
any  subjects  which  require  entire  convic- 
tion.   A  certain  deduction  from  certain 
premises  is  the  only  reasoning  they  ac- 
knowledge.    Lord  Bacon  has  a  remarkable 
passage  on  this  in  the  9th  book  De  Aug- 
mentis.     "  Postquam  articuli  et  principia 
religionis  jam  in  sedibns  suis  fuerint  lo- 
cata,  it't  ut  a  rationis  examine  penitua 
eximantur.  turn  demum  conceditur  ab  illis 
Ulationes  derivare  ac  deducere  secundum 
analogiaui    ipsorum.     In    rebus    quidem 


naturalibus  hoc  non  tenet.  Nam  et  ipsa 
priucipia  examini  subjiciuntur ;  per  iu- 
ductionem,  inquam,  licet  minime  per  syllo- 
gismum.  Atque  eadein  ilia  nullam  habent 
cum  ratione  repugnauti;un.  ut  ab  eodem 
ftmte  cum  primaa  propositiones,  turn  me- 
diae, deducantur.  Aliter  fit  in  religione: 
ubi  et  primae  propositioues  authopystatae 
sunt  atque  per  se  sut)>i~U'utes  ;  ot  rursus 
non  reguutur  ab  ilia  ratione  quse  propo- 
sitiones  consequentes  deducit.  Neque  ta- 
mcn  hoc  fit  in  religione  sola,  sed  cti-im 
in  iiliis  scientiis,  tarn  gravioribus,  qnnm 
levioribus,  ubi  scilicet  proposition's  hu 
manae  placita  suut,  nou  posita  ;  siijuiJem 
et  in  illis  rationis  usus  absolutus  esse  non 
potest.  Videinus  eriim  in  ludis,  puta 
schaccorum,  aut  similibus,  priori*  In  li 
normas  et  leges  meni  positive-  esse,  <•'  ad 
placitum;  quas  recipi.  non  in  di<]>ut.-i- 
tionem  vocari,  prorsus  oporteat :  ut  vero 
vincas,  et  perite  lusum  iustitu.is.  a.l  nrtiii- 
ciosuin  est  et  rationale.  Eodem  mojo  fit 
et  in  legibus  humanis ;  in  quilius  h-iud 
paucae  sunt  maxima;,  ut  loquuntur.  hoc 
est,  placita  mera  juris,  qure  auctoritifo 
magis  quam  ratione  uituntur,  ncque  in 
disceptationem  veniunt.  Quid  verc  sit 
ju-ti-<imuin.  non  absolute,  sed  relative, 
hoc  est  ex  analogic  illarum  maximarum, 
id  demum  rationale  est,  et  latum  disputa- 
tioni  campum  prsebet."  This  passage,  well 
weighed,  may  show  us  where,  why,  and 
by  whom,  the  synthetic  and  syllogistic 
methods  have  been  preferred  to  the  induc- 
tive and  analytical. 


3HAP.  HI.  HIS  FAME  ON  THE  CONTINENT.  73 

a  kind  of  homage  that  only  the  greatest  men  receive.  Yet 
still  it  was  by  natural  philosophers  alone  that  the  writings  of 
Bacon  were  much  studied.  The  editions  of  his  works,  except 
the  Essays,  were  few :  the  Novum  Organum  never  came 
separately  from  the  English  press.1  They  were  not  even 
frequently  quoted;  for  I  believe  it  will  be  found  that  the 
fashion  of  referring  to  the  brilliant  passages  of  the  De  Aug- 
mentis  and  the  Novum  Organum,  at  least  in  books  designed 
for  the  general  reader,  is  not  much  older  than  the  close  of  the 
last  century.  Scotland  has  the  merit  of  having  led  the  way : 
Reid,  Stewart,  Robison,  and  Playfair  turned  that  which  had 
been  a  blind  veneration  into  a  rational  worship ;  and  I  should 
suspect  that  more  have  read  Lord  Bacon  within  these  thirty 
years  than  in  the  two  preceding  centuries.  It  may  be  an 
usual  consequence  of  the  enthusiastic  panegyrics  lately  poured 
upon  his  name,  that  a  more  positive  efficacy  has  sometimes 
been  attributed  to  his  philosophical  writings  than  they  really 
possessed ;  and  it  might  be  asked  whether  Italy,  where  he  was 
probably  not  much  known,  were  not  the  true  school  of  expe 
rimental  philosophy  in  Europe,  whether  his  methods  of  inves- 
tigation were  not  chiefly  such  as  men  of  sagacity  and  lovers 
of  truth  might  simultaneously  have  devised.  But,  whatever 
may  have  been  the  case  with  respect  to  actual  discoveries  in 
science,  we  must  give  to  written  wisdom  its  proper  meed :  no 
books  prior  to  those  of  Lord  Bacon  carried  mankind  so  far  on 
the  road  to  truth ;  none  have  obtained  so  thorough  a  triumph 
over  arrogant  usurpation  without  seeking  to  substitute  an- 
other ;  and  he  may  be  compared  to  those  liberators  of  nations 
who  have  given  them  laws  by  which  they  might  govern 
.hemselves,  and  retained  no  homage  but  their  gratitude.2 

1  The  De  Augmentis  was  only  once  pub-  sophy,  led  some  to  an  exaggerated  notion, 
lished  after  the  first  edition,  in  1638.     An  "  The  influence  of  Bacon's  genius  on  the 
indifferent  translation,  by  Gilbert  Watts,  subsequent  progress  of  physical  discovery 
came  out  in  1040.     No  edition  of  Bacon's  has    been    seldom   duly   appreciated ;    by 
AVorks  was  published  in  England  before  some  writers   almost  entirely  overlooked, 
1730 ;  another  appeared  in  1740,  and  there  and  by  others  considered  as  the  sole  cause 
have  been  several   since.     But  they  had  of  the  reformation  in  science  which   has 
been  printed  at  Frankfort  in  1665.     It  is  since  taken  place.     Of  these  two  extremes, 
unnecessary  to  observe,  that  many  copies  the  latter  certainly  is  the  least  wide  of  the 
of  the  foreign  editions  were  brought   to  truth;  for,  in  the  whole  history  of  letter*, 
this  country.     This  is  mostly  taken  from  no  other    individual   can    be    mentioned 
Mr.  Montagu's  account  whose  exertions  have  had  so  indisputable 

2  I   have  met,   since  this  passage  was  an  effect  in   forwarding    the  intellectual 
written,  with  one  in  Stewart's  Life  of  Reid,  progress  of  mankind.     On  the  other  hand, 
which  seems  to  state  the  effects  of  Bacon's  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that,  before  tho 
philosophy  in  a  just  and  temperate  spirit,  era  when  Bacon  appeared,  various  philo- 
and   which  I   rather  quote   because   this  sophers  in  different  parts  of  Europe  had 
writer  has,  by  his  eulogies  on  that  philo-  struck  into  the  right  path ;  and  it  may 


74  DESCAETES.  PABT  m, 

SECTION  HL 

On  the  Metaphysical  Philosophy  of  Descartes. 

81.  KEN£  DESCAETES  was  born  in  1596,  of  an  ancient 
Early  life  of  family  in  Touraine.  An  inquisitive  curiosity  into 
Descartes.  tne  nature  and  causes  of  all  he  saw  is  said  to  have 
distinguished  his  childhood,  and  this  was  certainly  accompa- 
nied by  an  uncommon  facility  and  clearness  of  apprehension. 
At  a  very  early  age,  he  entered  the  college  of  the  Jesuits  at 
La  Fleche,  and  passed  through  their  entire  course  of  litera- 
ture and  philosophy.  It  was  now,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  as 
he  tells  us,  that  he  began  to  reflect,  with  little  satisfaction,  on 
his  studies  ;  finding  his  mind  beset  with  error,  and  obliged  to 
confess  that  he  had  learned  nothing  but  the  conviction  of  his 
ignorance.  Yet  he  knew  that  he  had  been  educated  in  a 
famous  school,  and  that  he  was  not  deemed  behind  his  con- 
temporaries. The  ethics,  the  logic,  even  the  geometry,  of 
the  ancients,  did  not  fill  his  mind  with  that  clear  stream 
of  truth  for  which  he  was  ever  thirsting.  On  leaving  La 
Fleche,  the  young  Descartes  mingled  for  some  years  in  the 
world,  and  served  as  a  volunteer  both  under  Prince  Mau- 
rice, and  in  the  Imperial  Army.  Yet  during  this  period  there 
were  intervals  when  he  withdrew  himself  wholly  from  soci- 
ety, and  devoted  his  leisure  to  mathematical  science.  Some 
germs  also  of  his  peculiar  philosophy  were  already  ripening 
in  his  mind. 

perhaps  be  doubted,  whether  any  one  im-  conceived  design  ;  and  it  was  reserved  for 

portant  rule  with  respect  to  the  true  me-  him  to  reduce  to  rule  and  method  what 

thod  of  investigation  be  contained  in  his  others  had   effected,   either  fortuitously, 

works,  of  which  no  hint  can  be  traced  in  or  from  some  momentary  glimpse  of  the 

those  of  his  predecessors.     His  great  merit  truth.    These  remarks  are  not  intended  to 

lay  in  concentrating  their  feeble  and  scat-  detract  from  the  just  glory-  of  Bacon  ;  for 

tered  lights  ;  fixing  the  attention  of  philo-  they  apply  to  all  those,  without  exception, 

gophers  on  the  distinguishing  character-  who  have  systematized  the  principles  of 

istics  of  true  and  of  false  science,   by  a  any  of  the  arts.     Indeed  they  apply  less 

felicity  of  illustration  peculiar  to  himself,  forcibly  to  him  than  to  any  other  pliiloso- 

aeconded  by  the  commanding  powers  of  a  pher  whose  studies  have  been  directed  to 

bold  and  figurative  eloquence.    The  me-  objects  analogous  to  his ;  inasmuch  as  we 

thod    of  investigation  which   he  recom-  know  of  no  art  of  which  the  rules  have 

mended  had  been  previously  followed  in  been  reduced  successfully  into  a  didactic 

every  instance  in  which  any  solid  disco-  form,  when  the  art  itself  was  as  much  in 

very  had  been  made  with  respect  to  the  infancy  as  experimental   philosophy  was 

.aws  of  nature:  but  it  had  been  followed  when  Bacon  wrote  "  —Account  of  Life  and 

uvidentally  and  without  any  regular  pre-  Writings  of  Keid,  sect.  2- 


CHAP.  m.  RETIRES  TO  HOLLAND.  75 

82.  Descartes  was  twenty-three  years  old,  when,  passing  a 
solitary  winter  in  his  quarters  at  Neuburg,  on  the 
Danube,  he  began  to  revolve  in  his  mind  the  futility 

of  all  existing  systems  ef  philosophy,  and  the  dis- 
crepancy  of  opinions  among  the  generality  of  mankind,  which 
rendered  it  probable  that  no  one  had  yet  found  out  the  'road 
to  real  science.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  set  about  the 
investigation  of  truth  for  himself,  erasing  from  his  mind  all 
preconceived  judgments,  as  having  been  hastily  and  precari- 
ously taken  up.  He  laid  down  for  his  guidance  a  few  funda- 
mental rules  of  logic,  such  as  to  admit  nothing  as  true  which 
he  did  not  clearly  perceive,  and  to  proceed  from  the  simpler 
notions  to  the  more  complex ;  taking  the  method  of  geometers, 
by  which  they  had  gone  so  much  farther  than  others,  for 
the  true  art  of  reasoning.  Commencing,  therefore,  with  the 
mathematical  sciences,  and  observing,  that,  however  different 
in  their  subjects,  they  treat  properly  of  nothing  but  the  rela- 
tions of  quantity,  he  fell,  almost  accidentally,  as  his  words 
seem  to  import,  on  the  great  discovery  that  geometrical  curves 
may  be  expressed  algebraically.1  This  gave  him  more  hope 
of  success  in  applying  his  method  to  other  parts  of  philoso- 
phy. 

83.  Nine  years   more   elapsed,   during  which  Descartes, 
though   he    quitted   military   service,  continued   to  He  retires 
observe  mankind  in  various  parts  of  Europe,  still  toHoUand- 
keeping  his  heart  fixed  on  the  great  aim  he  had  proposed  to 
himself   but,  as   he   confesses,  without    having   framed   the 
scheme  of  any  philosophy  beyond  those  of  his  contemporaries. 
He  deemed  his  time  of  life  immature  for  so  stupendous  a 
task.     But  at  the  age  of  thirty-three,  with  little  notice  to  his 
friends,  he  quitted  Paris,  convinced  that  absolute  retirement 
was  indispensable  for  that  rigorous  investigation  of  first  prin- 
ciples which  he  now  determined  to  institute,  and  retired  into 
Holland.     In  this  country  he  remained  eight  years  so  com- 
pletely aloof  from   the   distractions   of  the   world,  that   he 
concealed  his  very  place  of  residence,  though  preserving  an 
intercourse  of  letters  with  many  friends  in  France. 

84.  In  1637,  he  broke  upon  the  world  with  a  volume  con- 
taining the  Discourse  upon  Method,  the  Dioptrics,  the  Meteors, 
and  the  Geometry.    It  is  only  with  the  first  that  we  are  for 

»  CBuvres  de  Descartes,  par  Cousin,  Paris,  1824,  vol.  i.  p.  148. 


76  DESCARTES.  PART  III. 

the  present  concerned.1  In  this  discourse,  the  most  interesting, 
iiispubii-  perhaps,  of  Descartes'  writings,  on  account  of  the 
cations.  picture  of  his  life  and  of  the  progress  of  his  studies 
that  it  furnishes,  we  find  the  Cartesian  metaphysics,  which  do 
not  consist  of  many  articles,  almost  as  fully  detailed  as  in  any 
of  his  later  works.  In  the  Meditationes  de  Prima  Philosophia, 
published  in  1641,  these  fundamental  principles  are  laid  down 
again  more  at  length.  He  invited  the  criticism  of  philoso- 
phers on  these  famous  Meditations.  They  did  not  refuse  the 
challenge  ;  and  seven  sets  of  objections  from  as  many  different 
quarters,  with  seven  replies  from  Descartes  himself,  are  sub- 
joined to  the  later  editions  of  the  Meditations.  The  Princi- 
ples of  Philosophy,  published  in  Latin  in  1644,  contains  what 
may  be  reckoned  the  final  statement,  which  occupies  most  of 
the  first  book,  written  with  uncommon  conciseness  and  pre- 
cision. The  beauty  of  philosophical  style  which  distinguishes 
Descartes  is  never  more  seen  than  in  this  first  book  of  the 
Principia,  the  translation  of  which  was  revised  by  Clerselier, 
an  eminent  friend  of  the  author.  It  is  a  contrast  at  once  to 
the  elliptical  brevity  of  Aristotle,  who  hints,  or  has  been  sup- 
posed to  hint,  the  most  important  positions  in  a  short  clause, 
and  to  the  verbose,  figurative  declamation  of  many  modern 
metaphysicians.  In  this  admirable  perspicuity,  Descartes  was 
imitated  by  his  disciples  Arnauld  and  Malebranche,  especially 
the  former.  His  unfinished  posthumous  treatise,  the  Inquiry 
after  Truth  by  Natural  Reason,  is  not  carried  farther  than  a 
partial  development  of  the  same  leading  principles  of  Carte- 
sianism.  There  is,  consequently,  a  great  deal  of  apparent 
repetition  in  the  works  of.  Descartes,  but  such  as  on  attentive 
consideration  will  show,  not  perhaps  much  real  variance,  but 
some  new  lights  that  had  occurred  to  the  author  in  the  course 
of  his  reflections.2 

85.  In  pursuing  the  examination  of  the  first  principles  of 
knowledge,  Descartes  perceived  not  only  that  he  had  cause  to 
doubt  of  the  various  opinions  which  he  had  found  current 
among  men,  from  that  very  circumstance  of  their  variety,  but 

1  (Euvres  de  Descartes,  par  Cousin,  tings  of  Descartes,  including  his  corre- 
Faris,  1824,  vol.  i.  pp.  121-212.  spondence,  arranged  methodically  in  his 
2  A  work  has  lately  been  published,  E«-  own  words,  but  with  the  omission  of  a 
sais  Philosophiques,  suivis  de  la  Meta-  large  part  of  the  objections  to  the  Medita- 
phyeique  tie  Descartes,  assemblee  et  inise  tions  and  of  his  replies.  I  did  not,  how- 
en  ordre  par  L.  A.  Gruycr,  4  vols.,  Bru-  ever,  see  this  work  in  tune  to  make  use 
xellcs,  1832.  In  the  fourth  volume,  we  of  it. 
find  the  metaphysical  passages  in  the  wri- 


CHAP.  m.         HIS  FIRST  STEP  EST  KNOWLEDGE.  77 

that  the  sources  of  all  which  he  had  received  for  truth  them- 
selves, namely,  the  senses,  had  afforded  him  no  indis-  He  bc^ns 
putable  certainty.  He  began  to  recollect  how  often  by  doubt- 
he  had  been  misled  by  appearances,  which  had  at  1! 
first  sight  given  no  intimation  of  their  fallacy,  and  asked  him- 
self in  vain  by  what  infallible  test  he  could  discern  the  reality 
of  external  objects,  or  at  least  their  conformity  to  his  idea  of 
them.  The  strong  impressions  made  in  sleep  led  him  to 
inquire  \\hether  all  he  saw  and  felt  might  not  be  in  a  dream. 
It  was  true  that  there  seemed  to  be  some  notions  more  ele- 
mentary than  the  rest,  such  as  extension,  figure,  duration, 
which  could  not  be  reckoned  fallacious ;  nor  could  he  avoid 
owning,  that,  if  there  were  not  an  existing  triangle  in  the 
world,  the  angles  of  one  conceived  by  the  mind,  though  it 
were  in  sleep,  must  appear  equal  to  two  right  angles.  But, 
even  in  this  certitude  of  demonstration,  he  soon  found  some- 
thing deficient :  to  err  in  geometrical  reasoning  is  not  impossi- 
ble ;  why  might  he  not  err  in  this  ?  especially  in  a  train  of 
consequences,  the  particular  terms  of  which  are  not  at  the 
same  instant  present  to  the  mind.  But,  above  all,  there 
might  be  a  superior  being,  powerful  enough  and  willing  to 
deceive  him.  It  was  no  kind  of  answer  to  treat  this  as  im- 
probable, or  as  an  arbitrary  hypothesis.  He  had  laid  down 
as  a  maxim  that  nothing  could  be  received  as  truth  which  was 
not  demonstrable ;  and  in  one  place,  rather  hyperbolically, 
and  indeed  extravagantly  in  appearance,  says  that  he  made 
little  difference  between  merely  probable  and  false  supposi- 
tions ;  meaning  this,  however,  as  we  may  presume,  in  the 
sense  of  geometers,  who  would  say  the  same  thing. 

86.    But,  divesting  himself  thus  of  all  belief  in  what  the 
world  deemed  most  unquestionable,  plunged  in  an  Hisfirst 
abyss,  as  it  seemed  for  a  time,  he  soon  found  his  feet  step  in 
on   a   rock,  from  which  he  sprang  upwards  to  an 
unclouded  sun.     Doubting  all  things,  abandoning  all  things, 
he  came  to  the  question,  What  is  it  that  doubts  and  denies  ? 
Something  it  must  be :  he  might  be  deceived  by  a  superior 
power;    but  it  was  he  that  was  deceived.     He  felt  his  own 
existence :   the  proof  of  it  was  that  he  did  feel  it ;   that  he 
had  affirmed,  that  he  now  doubted,  in  g,  word. 'that  he  was 
a  thinking  substance.    Cogito ;  Eryo  sum —  this  famous  enthy- 
meme  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy  veiled  in  rather  formal 
language  that  which  was  to  him,  and  must  be  to  us  all,  the 


78  DESCARTES.  PART  III. 

eternal  basis  of  conviction,  which  no  argument  can  strengthen, 
which  no  sophistry  can  impair,  —  the  consciousness  of  a  self 
within,  a  percipient  indivisible  Ego.1  The  only  proof  of  this 
is,  that  it  admits  of  no  proof,  that  no  man  can  pretend  to  doubt 
of  his  own  existence  with  sincerity,  or  to  express  a  doubt 
without  absurd  and  inconsistent  language. 

87.  The  scepticism  of  Descartes,  it  appears,  which  is  merely 
„     .         provisional,  is  not  at  all  similar  to  that  of  the  Pyr- 

rhonists,  though  some  of  his  arguments  may  have 
been  shafts  from  their  quiver.  Nor  did  he  make  use,  which 
Not  seep-  is  somewhat  remarkable,  of  the  reasonings  afterwards 
ticai.  employed  by  Berkeley  against  the  material  world; 
though  no  one  more  frequently  distinguished  than  Descartes 
between  the  objective  reality,  as  it  was  then  supposed  to  be, 
of  ideas  in  the  mind,  and  the  external  or  sensible  reality  of 
things.  Scepticism,  in  fact,  was  so  far  from  being  character- 
istic of  his  disposition,  that  his  errors  sprang  chiefly  from  the 
opposite  source,  little  as  he  was  aware  of  it,  from  an  undue 
positiveness  in  theories  which  he  could  not  demonstrate,  or 
even  render  highly  probable.2 

88.  The  certainty  of  an  existing  Ego  easily  led  him  to  that 
of  the  operations  of  the  mind,  called  afterwards  by  Locke 
ideas  of   reflection,  the  believing,  doubting,  willing,  loving, 
fearing,  which  he  knew  by  consciousness,  and  indeed  by  means 

1  This  word,  introduced  by  the  Ger-  quiries  which  must  by  necessity  end  in 
mans,  or  originally  perhaps  by  the  old  nothing  more  than  probability.    Accord- 
Cartesians,  is  rather  awkward,  but  far  less  ingly  we  find  in  the  next  pages,  that  he 
BO  than  the  English  pronoun  /,  which  is  made  little  account  of  any  sciences  but 
also  equivocal    in   sound.     Stewart    has  arithmetic  and  geometry,  or  such  others 
adopted  it  as  the  lesser  evil ;  and  it  seems  as  equal  them  in  certainty.     "  From  all 
reasonable  not  to  scruple  the  use  of  a  this,"  he  concludes,  "  we  may  infer,  not 
word  so  convenient,  if  not  necessary,  to  that  arithmetic  and  geometry  are  the  only 
express  the  unity  of  the  conscious  princi-  sciences  which  we  must  learn,  but  that 
pie.    If  it  had  been  employed  earlier,  I  he  who  seeks  the  road  to  truth  should  not 
am  apt   to  think  that  some  great  iiicta-  trouble  himself  with  any  object  of  which 
physical  extravagances  would  have  been  he  cannot  have  as  certain  a  knowledge  aa 
avoided,  and    some    fundamental  truths  of  arithmetical  and  geometrical   demon- 
more  clearly  apprehended.    Fichte  is  well  strations."    It  is  unnecessary  to  observe 
known  to  have  made  the  grand  division  what  havoc  this  would  make  with  investi- 
of  Ich  and  Nicht  Ich,  Ego  and  Non  Ego,  gations,  even  in  physics,  of  the  highest 
the    basis    of   his   philosophy;   in  other  importance  to  mankind. 

words,  the  difference  of  subjective  and  ob-  Beattie,  in  the  Essay  on  Truth,  part  ii. 

jective  reality.  chap.  2,  has  made  some  unfounded  criti- 

2  One  of  the  rules  Descartes  lays  down  cisms  on  the  scepticism  of  Descartes,  and 
In  his  posthumous  art  of  logic,  is  that  we  endeavors  to  turn  into  ridicule  his  "  Co- 
ought    never    to  busy  ourselves    except  gito;  Ergo  sum."    Yet  if  any  one  should 
about  objects  concerning  which  our  un-  deny  his  own,  or  our  existence,  I  do  not 
derstanding  appears  capable  of  acquiring  see   how  we  could  refute  him,  were  he 
an  unquestionable  and  certain  knowledge,  worthy  of  refutation,  but  by  some  such 
vol.  xi.  p.  204.    This  is  at  least  too  un-  language ;  and,  in  fact,  it  is  what  Beattie 
limited  a  proposition,  and  would  exclude,  himself  says,   more    paraphrastically,  ID 
not  indeed    all    probability,  but  all  in-  answering  Hume. 


CHAP.  m.  HIS  PROOFS  OF  A  DEITY.  79 

of  which  alone  he  knew  that  the  Ego  existed.  He  now  pro- 
ceeded a  step  farther ;  and,  reflecting  on  the  simplest  He  arriTeg 
truths  of  arithmetic  and  geometry,  saw  that  it  was  at  more 
as  impossible  to  doubt  of  them  as  of  the  acts  of  ' 
his  mind.  But  as  he  had  before  tried  to  doubt  even  of  these, 
on  the  hypothesis  that  he  might  be  deceived  by  a  superior 
intelligent  power,  he  resolved  to  inquire  whether  such  a  power 
existed,  and.  if  it  did,  whether  it  could  be  a  deceiver.  The 
affirmative  of  the  former  and  the  negative  of  the  latter  ques- 
tion Descartes  established  by  that  extremely  subtle  reasoning 
so  much  celebrated  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  which  has 
less  frequently  been  deemed  conclusive  in  later  times.  It  is 
at  least  that  which  no  man,  not  fitted  by  long  practice  for 
metaphysical  researches,  will  pretend  to  embrace. 

89.  The  substance  of  his  argument  was  this.     He  found 
within  himself  the  idea  of  a  perfect  Intelligence,   His  proof 
eternal,  infinite,  necessary.      This  could  not  come   ofa  Deity- 
from  himself,  nor  from  external  things,  because  both  were 
imperfect,  and  there  could  be  no  more  in  the  effect  than  there 
is  in  the  cause.      And,  this  idea  requiring  a  cause,  it  could 
have  none  but  an  actual  being,  not  a  possible  being,  which  is 
undistinguishable   from  mere  nonentity.       If,  however,  this 
should  be  denied,  he  inquires  whether  he,  with  this  idea  of 
God,  could  have  existed  by  any  other  cause,  if  there  were 
no  God.      Not,  he  argues,  by  himself;   for,  if  he  were  the 
author  of  his  own  being,  he  would  have  given  himself  every 
perfection,  in  a  word,  would  have  been  God.      Not  by  his 
parents ;  for  the  same  might  be  said  of  them,  and  so  forth,  if 
we  remount  to  a  series  of  productive  beings.     Besides  this, 
fis  much  pewer  is  required  to  preserve  as  to  create ;  and  the 
continuance  of  existence  in  the  effect  implies  the  continued 
operation  of  the  cause. 

90.  With  this  argument,  in  itself  sufficiently  refined,  Des- 
cartes blended  another  still  more  distant  from  com-  Another 
mon  apprehension.    Necessary  existence  is  involved  P100'  of  i4- 
in  the  idea   of  God.     All  other  beings  are  conceivable   in 
their  essence,  as  things  possible ;  in  God  alone,  his  essence  and 
existence  are  inseparable.     Existence  is  necessary  to  perfec- 
tion ;  hence  a  perfect  being,  or  God,  cannot  be  conceived 
without  necessary  existence.     Though  I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  misrepresented  Descartes  in  this  result  of  his  very  subtle 
argument,  it  is  difficult  not  to  treat  it  as  a  sophism.     And  it 


DESCARTEb. 


PAKT  III. 


was  always  objected  by  his  adversaries,  that  he  inferred  the 
necessity  of  the  thing  from  the  necessity  of  the  idea,  which 
was  the  very  point  in  question.  It  seems  impossible  to  \  in- 
dicate many  of  his  expressions,  from  which  he  never  receded 
in  the  controversy  to  which  his  Meditations  gave  rise.  But 
the  long  habit  of  repeating  in  his  mind  the  same  series  of 
reasonings,  gave  Descartes,  as  it  will  always  do,  an  inward 
assurance  of  their  certainty,  which  could  not  be  weakened  by 
any  objection.  The  former  argument  for  the  being  of  God, 
whether  satisfactory  or  not,  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
present.1 


1  "From  what  is  said  already  of  the 
ignorance  we  are  in  of  the  essence  of  mind, 
it  is  evident  that  we  are  not  able  to  know 
whether  any  uiind  be  necessarily  existent 
by  a  necessity  d  priori  founded  in  its 
essence,  as  we  have  showed  time  and  space 
to  be.  Some  philosophers  think  that  such 
a  necessity  may  be  demonstrated  of  God 
from  the  nature  of  perfection.  For  God 
being  infinitely,  that  is,  absolutely  perfect, 
they  say  he  must  needs  be  necessarily 
existent ;  because,  say  they,  necessary  ex- 
istence is  one  of  the  greatest  of  perfec- 
tions. But  I  take  this  to  be  one  of  those 
false  and  imaginary  arguments  that  are 
founded  in  the  abuse  of  certain  terms ; 
and,  of  all  others,  this  word  'perfection' 
Seems  to  have  suffered  most  this  way.  I 
wish  I  could  clearly  understand  what  these 
philosophers  mean  by  the  word  '  perfec- 
tion,' when  they  thus  say  that  necessity 
of  existence  is  perfection.  Does  perfection 
here  signify  the  same  thing  that  it  does 
when  we  say  that  God  is  infinitely  good, 
omnipotent,  omniscient?  Surely  perfec- 
tions are  properly  asserted  of  the  several 
powers  that  attend  the  essences  of  things 
and  not  of  any  thing  else,  but  in  a  very 
unnatural  and  improper  sense.  Perfec- 
tion is  a  term  of  relation ;  and  its  sense 
Implies  a  fitness  or  agreement  to  some  cer- 
tain end,  and  most  properly  to  some  power 
in  the  thing  that  is  denominated  perfect. 
The  term,  as  the  etymology  of  it  shows,  is 
taken  from  the  operation  of  artists.  When 
an  artist  proposes  to  himself  to  make  any 
thing  that  shall  be  serviceable  to  a  certiin 
effect,  his  work  is  culled  more  or  less  per- 
fect, according  as  it  agrees  more  or  less 
with  the  design  of  the  artist.  From  arts, 
by  a  similitude  of  sense,  this  word  has  )><•<  -n 
introduced  into  morality,  and  signifies 
that  quality  of  an  agent  by  which  it  is 
able  to  act  agreeable  to  the  end  its  actions 
tend  to.  The  metaphysicians  who  reduce 
every  thing  to  transcendental  considera- 
tions have  also  translated  this  term  into 
their  science,  and  use  it  to  signify  the 


agreement  that  any  thing  has  with  that 
idea  which  it  is  required  that  thing  should 
answer  to.  This  perfection,  therefore, 
belongs  to  those  attributes  that  consti- 
tute the  essence  of  a  thing;  and  that  being 
is  properly  called  the  most  perfect  which 
has  all,  the  best,  and  each  the  completes! 
in  its  kind,  of  those  attributes  whieh  can 
be  united  in  one  essence.  Perfection, 
therefore,  belongs  to  the  essence  of  things, 
and  not  properly  to  their  existence  ;  which 
is  not  a  perfection  of  any  thing,  no  attri- 
bute of  it,  but  only  the  mere  constitution 
of  it  in  rerum  natnra.  Necessary  ex- 
istence, therefore,  which  is  a  mode  of  exist- 
ence, is  not  a  perfection ;  it  being  no 
attribute  of  the  tiling  no  more  than  ex- 
istence is,  which  it  is  a  mode  of.  lint  it 
may  be  said,  that  though  necessary  exist- 
ence is  not  a  perfection  in  itself,  Net  it  is  so 
in  its  cause,  upon  account  of  that  attri- 
bute of  the  entity  from  whence  it  Hows , 
that  that  attribute  must  of  all  others  be 
the  most  perfect  and  most  excellent,  whieh 
necessary  existence  Hows  from,  it  being 
such  as  cannot  be  conceived  otherwixj 
than  as  existing.  But  what  exc. 
what  perfection,  is  there  in  all  this  '  Space 
is  necessarily  existent  on  account  of  ex- 
tension, which  cannot  be  conceived  other- 
wise than  as  existing.  But  what  perfec- 
tion is  there  in  space  upon  this  account, 
which  can  in  no  manner  act  on  any  thing, 
which  is  entirely  devoid  of  all  power, 
wherein  I  have  showed  all  perfections  to 
consist?  Therefore  necessary  existence, 
abstractedly  considered,  is  no  perfection; 
and  therefore  the  idea  of  infinite  perfec- 
tion does  not  include,  and  consequently 
not  prove,  God  to  be  necessarily  existent. 
If  he  be  so,  it  is  on  account  of  those  attri- 
butes of  his  essence  which  we  have  no 
knowledge  of." 

I  have  made  this  extract  from  a  very 
short  tract,  called  Contemplatio  Philoso- 
phica.  by  Brook  Taylor,  which  I  found  in 
an  unpublished  memoir  of  his  life  printed 
by  the  late  Sir  William  Young  in  1783. 


CHAP.  in.     PRIMARY  AXD  SECONDARY  QUALITIES.  81 

91.  From  the  idea  of  a  perfect  being,  Descartes  immedi- 
ately deduced  the  truth  of  his  belief  in  an  external  Hig  deduc. 
world,  and  in  the  inferences  of  his  reason.  For  to  tions  from 
deceive  his  creatures  would  be  an  imperfection  in 
God ;  but  God  is  perfect.  Whatever,  therefore,  is  clearly 
and  distinctly  apprehended  by  our  reason  must  be  true.  We 
have  only  to  be  on  our  guard  against  our  own  precipitancy 
and  prejudice,  or  surrender  of  our  reason  to  the  authority  of 
others.  It  is  not  by  our  understanding,  such  as  God  gave  it 
to  us.  that  we  are  d'eceived ;  but  the  exercise  of  our  free-will, 
a  high  prerogative  of  our  nature,  is  often  so  incautious  as  to 
make  us  not  discern  truth  from  falsehood,  and  affirm  or  deny, 
by  a  voluntary  act,  that  which  we  do  not  distinctly  apprehend. 
The  properties  of  quantity,  founded  on  our  ideas  of  extension 
and  number,  are  distinctly  perceived  by  our  minds  ;  and  hence 
the  sciences  of  arithmetic  and  geometry  are  certainly  true. 
But,  when  he  turns  his  thoughts  to  the  phenomena  of  external 
sensation,  Descartes  cannot  wholly  extricate  himself  from  hi? 
original  concession,  the  basis  of  his  doubt,  that  the  senses  do 
sometimes  deceive  us.  He  endeavors  to  reconcile  this  with 
his  own  theory,  which  had  built  the  certainty  of  all  that  we 
clearly  hold  certain  on  the  perfect  veracity  of  God. 

9 '2.   It  is  in  this  inquiry  that  he  reaches  that  important 
distinction  between  the  primary  and  secondary  pro-  prim      and 
perties  of  matter  (the  latter  being  modifications  of  secondary 
the  former,  relative  only  to  our  apprehension,  but  qual 
not  inherent  in  things),  which,  without  being  wholly  new, 
contradicted  the  Aristotelian  theories  of  the  schools ; l  and  he 

It  bespeaks  the  clear  and  acute  nnder-  color,  when  nothing  intervenes  between 

standing  of  this  celebrated  philosopher,  our  eves  and  it,  are  one  and  the  same 

and  appears  to  me  an  entire  refutation  of  thing.    Yet  this  is  only  a  prejudice,''  &c. 

the  scholastic  argument  of  Descartes  :  one  — Herschel's  Discourse  on  Nat.    Philos., 

more  fit  for  theAnselms  and  such  dealers  p.  82.  I  almost  even  suspect  that  the  notion 

in  words,  from  whom  it  came,  than  for  of  sounds  and  smells,  being  secondary  or 

himself.  merely  sensible  qualities,  is  not  •!' 

1  See  Stewart's  First  Dissertation  on  the  all  men's  minds.  But,  after  we  are  become 
Progress  of  Philo-ophy.  This  writer  has  familiar  with  correct  ideas,  it  is  not  easy 
justly  observed,  that  many  persons  con-  to  revive  prejudices  hi  our  imagination, 
ceive  color  to  be  inherent  in  the  object,  so  In  the  same  page  of  Stewart's  Dissertation, 
that  the  censure  of  Reid  on  Descartes  and  he  has  been  led  by  dislike  of  the  Cniver 
his  followers,  as  having  pretended  to  dis-  sity  of  Oxford  to  misconceive,  in  an  extra- 
cover  what  no  one  doubted,  is  at  least  un-  ordinary  manner,  a  passage  of  Addison  in 
reasonable  in  this  respect.  A  late  writer  the  Guardian,  which  is  evidently  a  spor- 
has  gone  so  far  as  to  say,  "  Nothing  at  tive  ridicule  of  the  Cartesian  theory,  and 
first  can  ?eern  a  more  rational,  obvious,  is  absolutely  inapplicable  to  the  Aristo- 
and  incontrovertible  conclusion,  than  that  telian. 

the  color  of  a  body  is  an  inherent  quality,  [The  most  remarkable  circumstance  in 

like  its  weight,  hardness,  &c  :  and  that  Reid's    animadversion    on    Descartes,    a* 

to  see  the  object,  and  to  see  it  of  its  ourn  having  announced  nothing  but  what  wai 

VOL.  III.  6 


82  DESCARTES.  PART  Ul 

remarked,  that  we  are  never,  strictly  speaking,  deceived  by 
our  senses,  but  by  the  inferences  which  we  draw  from  them. 

93.  Such  is  nearly  the  substance,  exclusive  of  a  great 
variety  of  more  or  less  episodical  theories,  of  the  three  meta- 
physical works  of  Descartes,  the  history  of  the  soul's  progress 
from  opinion  to  doubt,  and  from  doubt  to  certainty.     Few 
would  dispute,  at  the  present  day,  that  he  has  destroyed  too 
much  of  his  foundations  to  render  his  superstructure  stable ; 
and,  to  readers  averse  from  metaphysical  reflection,  he  must 
seem  little  else  than  an  idle  theorist,  weaving  cobwebs  for 
pastime,  which  common  sense  sweeps  away.     It  is  fair,  how- 
ever, to  observe  that  no  one  was  more  careful  than  Descartes 
to  guard  against  any  practical  scepticism  in  the  affairs  of  life. 
He  even  goes  so  far  as  to  maintain,  that  a  man,  having  adopted 
any  practical  opinion  on  such  grounds  as  seem  probable,  should 
pursue  it  with  as  much  steadiness  as  if  it  were  founded  on 
demonstration ;    observing,  however,  as   a   general   rule,  to 
choose   the  most  moderate  opinions  among  those  which  he 
should  find  current  in  his  own  country.1 

94.  The  objections  adduced  against  the  Meditations  are  in 
ovections     a  se"es  °f  seven.     The  first  are  by  a  theologian 
made  to  his    named  Caterus,  the  second  by  Mersenne,  the  third 
Meditations.  by  Hobbegj  the  fourth  by  Arnauld,  the  fifth  by  Gas- 

sendi,  the  sixth  by  some  anonymous  writers,  the  seventh  by  a 
Jesuit  of  the  name  of  Bourdin.  To  all  of  these,  Descartes 
replied  with  spirit  and  acuteness.  By  far  the  most  important 
controversy  was  with  Gassendi,  whose  objections  were  stated 

generally  known,  is  that  he  had  himself,  as  I  can  judge,  give  the  name  of  color  to 
in  his  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind,  con-  the  sensation,  but  to  the  quality  only.'' 
tended  very  dogmatically  in  favor  of  the  How  then  do  we  talk  of  bright,  dull,  glar- 
vulgar  notion  that  secondary  qualities  ex-  ing,  gay,  dazzling  colors?  Do  not  these 
1st  in  bodies,  independently  of  sensation,  words  refer  to  a  sensation,  rather  than  to 
•'  This  scarlet  rose,  which  is  before  me,  is  a  configuration  of  parts  in  the  colored 
still  a  pcarlct  rose  when  I  shut  my  eyes,  body,  by  which  it  rolled*  or  retract,-;  lijfht .' 
and  was  so  at  midnight  when  no  eye  saw  But  this  first  production  of  Iteid.  though 
it.  The  color  remains  when  the  appear-  aboundingwithacuteandoriginalremarks, 
auce  ceases ;  it  remains  the  same  when  the  is  too  much  disfigured  by  a  tendency  to 
appearance  changes."  —  Chap.  vi.  §4.  He  halloo  on  the  multitude  against  specula- 
even  uses  similar  language  as  to  perfumes,  tive  philosophy.  The  appeal  to  common 
which,  indeed,  stand  on  the  same  ground,  sense,  that  is,  the  crude  notions  of  men 
though  we  feel  less  of  the  prejudice  in  favor  who  had  never  reflected,  even  enough  to 
of  their  reality  than  of  that  of  colors.  No-  use  language  with  precision,  would  have 
thing  can  be  more  obvious  than  the  reply :  been  fatal  to  psychology.  Reid  afterwards 
the  color  remains  only  on  the  tacit  hypo-  laid  aside  the  popular  tone  in  writing  on 
thesis  that  some  one  is  looking  at  the  philosophy,  though  perhaps  he  was  always 
object ;  at  midnight  we  can  hardly  say  too  much  inclined  to  cut  knots  when  ha 
that  tve  rose  is  red,  except  by  an  addi-  could  not  untie  them. — 1847.] 
tional  hypothesis,  that  the  day  should  1  Vol.  i.  p.  147 ;  vol.  iii.  p.  64. 
break  "  We  never,"  he  proceeds, "  as  for 


CHAP.  III.    OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  THE  MEDITATIONS.          b3 

more  briefly,  and,  I  think,  with  less  skill,  by  Hobbes.  It  was 
the  first  trumpet  in  the  new  philosophy  of  an  ancient  war  be- 
tween the  sensual  and  ideal  schools  of  psychology.  Descartes 
had  revived,  and  placed  in  a  clearer  light,  the  doctrine  of 
mind,  as  not  absolutely  dependent  upon  the  senses,  nor  of  the 
same  nature  as  their  objects.  Stewart  does  not  acknowledge 
him  as  the  first  teacher  of  the  soul's  immateriality.  "  That 
many  of  the  schoolmen,  and  that  the  wisest  of  the  ancient 
philosophers,  when  they  described  the  mind  as  a  spirit,  or  as 
a  spark  of  celestial  fire,  employed  these  expressions,  not  with 
any  intention  to  materialize  its  essence,  but  merely  from  want 
of  more  unexceptionable  language,  might  be  shown  with  de- 
monstrative evidence,  if  this  were  the  proper  place  for  entering 
into  the  discussion."  x  But,  though  it  cannot  be  said  that  Des- 
cartes was  absolutely  the  first  who  maintained  the  strict 
immateriality  of  the  soul,  it  is  manifest  to  any  one  who  has 
read  his  correspondence)  that  the  tenet,  instead  of  being  gene- 
ral, as  we  are  apt  to  presume,  was  by  no  means  in  accordance 
with  the  common  opinion  of  his  age.  The  fathers,  with  the 
exception,  perhaps  the  single  one,  of  Augustin,  had  taught  the 
corporeity  of  the  thinking  substance.  Arnauld  seems  to  con- 
sider the  doctrine  of  Descartes  as  almost  a  novelty  in  modern 
tunes.  "  What  you  have  written  concerning  the  distinction 
between  the  soul  and  body  appears  to  me  very  clear,  very 
evident,  and  quite  divine ;  and,  as  nothing  is  older  than  truth, 
I  have  had  singular  pleasure  to  see  that  almost  the  same 
things  have  formerly  been  very  perspicuously  and  agreeably 
handled  by  St.  Augustin  in  all  his  tenth  book  on  the  Trinity, 
but  chiefly  in  the  tenth  chapter."  2  But  Arnauld  himself,  in 
his  objections  to  the  Meditations,  had  put  it  as  at  least  ques- 
tionable, whether  that  which  thinks  is  not  something  extended, 
which,  besides  the  usual  properties  of  extended  substances, 
such  as  mobility  and  figure,  has  also  this  particular  virtue  and 
power  of  thinking.3  The  reply  of  Descartes  removed  the  dif- 
ficulties of  the  illustrious  Jans"enist,  who  became  an  ardent  and 
almost  complete  disciple  of  the  new  philosophy.  In.  a  placard 
against  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  printed  in  1 647,  which  seems 
to  have  come  from  Revius,  professor  of  theology  at  Leyden, 
it  is  said,  "  As  far  as  regards  the  nature  of  things,  nothing 
seems  to  hinder  but  that  the  soul  may  be  either  a  substance, 

1  Dissertation,  ubi  suprd.  2  Descartes,  x.  138. 

s  Descartes,  ii.  14. 


84  DESCARTES.  PART  HI. 

or  a  mode  of  corporeal  substance."1  And  More,  who  had 
carried  on  a  metaphysical  correspondence  with  Descartes, 
whom  he  professed  to  admire,  at  least  at  that  time,  above  all 
philosophers  that  had  ever  existed,  without  exception  of  his 
favorite  Plato,  extols  him  after  his  death  in  a  letter  to  Clerse- 
lier,  as  having  best  established  the  foundations  of  religion. 
"  For  the  peripatetics,"  he  says,  "  pretend  that  there  are  cer- 
tain substantial  forms  emanating  from  matter,  and  so  united 
to  it  that  they  cannot  subsist  without  it,  to  which  class  these 
philosophers  refer  the  souls  of  almost  all  living  beings,  even 
those  to  which  they  allow  sensation  and  thought ;  while  the 
Epicureans,  on  the  other  hand,  who  laugh  at  substantial  forms, 
ascribe  thought  to  matter  itself,  so  that  4t  is  M.  Descartes 
alone,  of  all  philosophers,  who  has  at  once  banished  from  phi- 
losophy all  these  substantial  forms  or  souls  derived  from 
matter,  and  absolutely  divested  matter  itself  of  the  faculty  of 
feeling  and  thinking."  2 

95.   It  must  be  owned,  that  the  firm  belief  of  Descartes  in 

the  immateriality  of  the  Ego,  or  thinking  principle, 

memory*      was  accompanied  with  what  in   later  times  would 

and  imagi-    have  been  deemed  rather  too  great  concessions  to 

nation.  .   -.  __     ,  P 

the  materialists.  He  held  the  imagination  and  the 
memory  to  be  portions  of  the  brain,  wherein  the  images  of 
our  sensations  are  bodily  preserved ;  and  even  assigned  such 
a  motive  force  to  the  imagination,  as  to  produce  those  involun- 
tary actions  which  we  often  perform,  and  all  the  movements 
of  brutes.  "  This  explains  how  all  the  motions  of  all  animals 
arise,  though  we  grant  them  no  knowledge  of  things,  but  only 
an  imagination  entirely  corporeal,  and  how  all  those  opera- 
tions which  do  not  require  the  concurrence  of  reason  are 
produced  in  us."  But  the  whole  of  his  notions  as  to  the  con- 

1  Descartes,  x.  73.  only  that  the  soul,  when  separated  from 

2  Descartes,  x.  386.    Even  More  seems  the  gross  body,  is  invested  with  a  substan- 
to  have  been  perplexed  at  one  time  by  the  tial  clothing,  or  that  there  is  what  we  may 
difficulty  of  accounting  for  the  knowledge  "call  an  interior  body,  a  supposed  monad] 
and  sentiment  of  disembodied  souls,  and  to  which  the  thinking   principle  is  indis- 
almost  inclined  to  admit  their  corporeity,  solubly  united.     This  is  what  all  material- 
".I'aimerois  mieux  dire  avec  les  Platoni-  ists  mean,  who  have  any  clear  notions  what- 
ciens,   les  anciens  p6res,  et  presque  tous  ever:  it  is  a  possible,  perhaps  a  plausible, 
les  philosophes,  que  les  ames  humaines,  perhaps  even  a  highly  probable,  hypothe- 
tous  les  genies  tant  bons  quo  mauvais.  sont  sis,  but  one  which  will  not  prove  their 
corporels.  et  que  par  consequent  ils  ont  un  theory.     The  former  seems  almost  an  in- 
sentiment  reel,  c'est  i  dire,  qui  leur  vient  dispensable  supposition,  if  we  admit  sen- 
du  corps  dont  ils  sont  revetus."     This  jg  sibility  to  phenomena  at  all  in  the  soul 
in  a  letter  to  Descartes  in  1649,  which  I  after  death ;  but  it  is  rather,  perhaps,  a 
have  not  read  in  Latin  (vol.  x.  p.  249).     I  theological  than  a  metaphysical  specula- 
do  nut  quite  understand  whether  he  meant  tioii. 


"•HAP.  HI.  SEAT  OF  THE  SOUL.  85 

nection  of  the  soul  and  body,  and  indeed  all  his  physiological 
theories  of  which  he  was  most  enamoured,  do  little  credit  to 
the  Cartesian  philosophy.  They  are  among  those  portions  of 
his  creed  which  have  lain  most  open  to  ridicule,  and  which  it 
would  be  useless  for  us  to  detail.  He  seems  to  have  ex- 
pected more  advantage  to  psychology  from  anatomical  re- 
searches than  in  that  state  of  the  science,  or  even  probably 
in  any  future  state  of  it,  anatomy  could  afford.  When  asked 
once  where  was  his  library,  he  replied,  showing  a  calf  he 
was  dissecting,  "  This  is  my  library." *  His  treatise  on  the 
passions,  a  subject  so  important  in  the  philosophy  of  the 
human  mind,  is  made  up  of  crude  hypotheses,  or,  at  best, 
irrelevant  observations,  on  their  physical  causes  and  con- 
comitants. 

96.  It  may  be  considered  as  a  part  of  this  syncretism, 'as 
we  may  call  it,  of  the  material  and  immaterial  hypo-  ^^  of  . 
theses,  that  Descartes  fixed  the  seat  of  the  soul  In  pineal 
in  the  conarion,  or  pineal  gland,  which  he  selected  sland- 
as  the  only  part  of  the  brain  which  is  not  double.  By  some 
means  of  communication  which  he  did  not  profess  to  ex- 
plain, though  later  metaphysicians  have  attempted  to  do  so, 
the  unextended  intelligence,  thus  confined  to  a  certain  spot, 
receives  the  sensations  which  are  immediately  produced 
through  impressions  on  the  substance  of  the  brain.  If  he 
did  not  solve  the  problem,  be  it  remembered  that  the  problem 
has  never  since  been  solved.  It  was  objected  by  a  nameless 
correspondent,  who  signs  himself  Hyperaspistes,  that  the  soul, 
being  incorporeal,  could  not  leave  by  its  operations  a  trace 
on  the  brain,  which  his  theory  seemed  to  imply.  Descartes 
answered,  in  rather  a  remarkable  passage,  that,  as  to  things 
purely  intellectual,  we  do  not,  properly  speaking,  remember 
them  at  all,  as  they  are  equally  original  thoughts  every  time 
they  present  themselves  to  the  mind,  except  that  they  are 
habitually  joined  as  it  were,  and  associated  with  certain 
aames,  which,  being  bodily,  make  us  remember  them.2 

1  Descartes  -was  very  fond  of  dissection :  purement  intellectuellea  a  proprement  par- 

4  C'est  un  exercice  oil  je  me  suis  souvent  leron  n'en  a  aucun  ressouvenir ;  et  la  pre- 

Tccupe  depuis  onze  ans.  et  je  erois  qu'il  n'y  miere  fois  qu'elles  se  presentent  4  1'espriti, 

a  guore  de  medecins  qui  y  ait  regarde  de  si  on  les  pense  aussi-bien  que  la  seconds,  si  ce 

pn-s  que  moi.;!  —  Vol.  viii.  p.  100, also  pp.  n'est  peut-etre  qu'elles  ont  coiitume d'etre 

174  and  180.  jointes  et  comme  attachees  i certains  noms 

-  This  passage  I  must  give  in  French,  qui,  etant  corporate,  font  que  nous  nous 

finding  it  obscure,  and  having  translated  ressourenons  aussi  d'elles."  —  Vol.  viii.  p 

more  according  to  what  I  guess  than  lite-  271. 
ally.     "Mais  pour  ce  qui  est  des  choses 


86  DESCARTES.  PART  HI. 

97.  If  the  orthodox  of  the  age  were  not  yet  prepared  for 

a  doctrine  which  seemed  so  favorable  at  least  to 
attacks  on  natural  religion  as  the  immateriality  of  the  soul, 
theMedita-  j^  mav  |je  readily  supposed,  that  Gassendi,  like 

Hobbes,  had  imbibed  too  much  of  the  Epicurean 
theory  to  acquiesce  in  the  spiritualizing  principles  of  his  ad- 
versary. In  a  sportive  style  he  addresses  him,  0  anima ! 
and  Descartes,  replying  more  angrily,  retorts  upon  him  the 
name  0  caro !  which  he  frequently  repeats.  Though  we 
may  lament  such  unhappy  efforts  at  wit  in  these  great  men, 
the  names  do  not  ill  represent  the  spiritual  and  carnal 
philosophies ;  the  school  that  produced  Leibnitz,  Kant,  and 
Stewart,  contrasted  with  that  of  Hobbes,  Condillac,  and  Ca- 
banis. 

98.  It  was  a  matter  of  course  that  the  vulnerable  passages 
Superiority    of  the  six  Meditations  would  not  escape  the  spear  of 
of  Descartes.  so  skilful  an  antagonist  as  Gassendi.     But  many 
of  his  objections  appear  to  be  little  more  than  cavils  ;    and, 
upon  the  whole,  Descartes  leaves  me  with  the  impression  of 
his   great   superiority   in   metaphysical   acuteness.      It   was 
indeed  impossible  that  men   should  agree  who  persisted  in 
using  a  different  definition  of  the  important  word  idea  ;  and 
the  same  source  of  interminable  controversy  has  flowed  ever 
since  for  their  disciples.     Gassendi,  adopting  the  scholastic 
maxim,  "  Nothing  is  in  the  understanding,  which  has  not  been, 
in  the  sense,"  carried  it  so  much  farther  than  those  from 
whom  it  came,  that  he  denied  any  thing  to  be  an  idea  but  what 
was  imagined  by  the  mind.      Descartes  repeatedly  desired 
both  him  and  Hobbes,  whose  philosophy  was  built  on  the 
same  notion,  to  remark  that  he  meant  by  "  idea "  whatevei 
can  be  conceived  by  the  understanding,  though  not  capable 
of  being  represented  by  the  imagination.1     Thus  we  imagine 

1  "  Par  le  nom  d'idee,  11  vent  settlement  mentre^u  par  les  philosophes  pour  signiffer 
qu'on  entende  ici  les  images  des  chosea  les  formes  des  conceptions  de  I'entendement 
materielles  depeintes  en  la  iantaisie  corpo-  divin,  encore  que  nous  ne  reconnoissiong 
relle ;  et  cela  etant  suppose,  U  lui  est  ais6  en  Dieu  aucune  fantaisie  ou  imagination 
de  montrer  qu'on  ne  peut  avoir  propre  et  corporelle,  et  je  n'en  savois  point  de  plus 
veritable  idee  de  Dieu  ni  d'un  ange ;  mais  propre.  Et  je  pense  avoir  assez  explique 
j'ai  souvent  averti,  et  principalement  en  1'idee  de  Dieu  pour  ceux  qui  veulent  con- 
celui  li  iiierue.  que  je  prends  le  nom  d'idee  cevoir  les  sens  que  je  donne  i  mes  paroles  ; 
pour  tout  ce  qui  est  concu  iinmediatement  mais  pour  ceux  qui  s'attacbent  a  les  en- 
par  1'esprit ;  en  sorte  que,  lorsque  je  veux  tendre  autrement  que  je  ne  fais,  je  ue  le 
et  que  je  crains,  parceque  je  concois  en  pourrais  jamais  assez."  —  Vol.  i.  p.  -KM. 
meme  temps,  que  je  veux  et  que  je  crains.  This  is  in  answer  to  Hobbes :  the  objections 
ce  vouloir  et  cette  crainte  sontmis  parmoi  of  Hobbes,  and  Descartes'  replies,  turn 
en  nombre  des  idees  ;  et  je  me  suis  servi  very  much  on  this  primary  difference  be- 
de  ce  mot,  parcequ'il  etoit  deji  commune-  tween  ideas  as  images,  •which  alone  our 


CHAP.  HI.  STEWART  ON  DESCARTES.  87 

a  triangle,  but  we  can  only  conceive  a  figure  of  a  thousand 
sides :  we  know  its  existence,  and  can  reason  about  its  pro- 
perties ;  but  we  have  no  image  whatever  in  the  mind,  by 
which  we  can  distinguish  such  a  polygon  from  one  of  a  smaller 
or  greater  number  of  sides.  Hobbes,  in  answer  to  this,  threw 
out  a  paradox  which  he  has  not,  perhaps  at  least  in  so  unlim- 
ited a  manner,  repeated,  —  that  by  reason,  that  is,  by  the 
process  of  reasoning,  we  can  infer  nothing  as  to  the  nature  of 
things,  but  only  as  to  their  names.1  It  is  singular  that  a  man, 
conversant  at  least  with  the  elements  of  geometry,  should  have 
fallen  into  this  error.  For  it  does  not  appear  that  he  meant 
to  speak  only  of  natural  substances,  as  to  which  his  language 
might  seem  to  be  a  bad  expression  of  what  was  afterwards 
clearly  shown  by  Locke.  That  the  understanding  can  con- 
ceive and  reason  upon  that  which  the  imagination  cannot 
delineate,  is  evident,  not  only  from  Descartes'  instance  of  a 
polygon,  but  more  strikingly  by  the  whole  theory  of  infinites, 
which  are  certainly  somewhat  more  than  bare  words,  what- 
ever assistance  words  may  give  us  in  explaining  them  to 
others  or  to  ourselves.2 

99.  Dugald  Stewart  has  justly  dwelt  on  the  signal  service 
rendered  by  Descartes  to  psychological  philosophy,  Stewart's 
by  turning  the  mental  vision  inward  upon  itself,  and  remarks  on 
accustoming  us  to  watch  the  operations  of  our  intel- 
lect, which,  though  employed  upon  ideas  obtained  through  the 

countryman  could  understand,  and  ideas  his  other  correspondents.    Hobbes  could 

as    intellections,   conceptions,   voovfjfva^  n°t  understand    what  have    been  called 

incapable  of  being  imagined,  but  not  less  ideas    of    reflection,   such  as  fear :    and 

certainly  known  and  reasoned  upon.    The  thought  it  was  nothing  more  than  the  idea 

French  "is  a  translation,  but  made  by  Cler-  of  the  object  feared.     "  For  what  else  is  the 

gelier  under  the  eye  of  Descartes,  so  that  fear  °/  a  lion,"  he  says,  "  than  the  idea  of 

It  may  be  quoted  as  an  original.  this  uoni  an£l  the  effect  which  it  produces 

1  ""Que dirons-nous  maintenant  si  pent-  ia  the  heart,  which  leads  us  to  run  away? 

etre  le  raisonnement  n'est  rien  autre  chose  But  this  running  is  not  a  thought ;  so  that 

q 

nomi 

que  par  la    

tout  touchant  la  nature  des  choses,  mais  thing  to  see  a  lion  and  fear  him,  that  it  is 

seulement    touchant    leurs    appellations,  to  see  him  only."  —  p.  483. 
c'est  i  dire  que  par  elle  nous  voyons  sim-        2  J  suspect,  from  what  I  have  since  read, 

plement  si  nous  assemblons  bien  ou  mal  that  Hobbes  had  a  different,  and  what  seems 

leg  noms  des  choses,  selon  les  conventions  to  me  a  very  erroneous,  view  of  infinite  or 

que  nous  avons  faites  a  notre  fantaisie  ton-  infinitesimal  quantities  in  geometry.    For 

chant  leurs  significations."  —  p.  476.    Des-  ne   answers    the    old    sophism  of  Zeno, 

cartes  merely  answered  :  "L'assemblagequi  "  Quicquid  dividi  potesf  in  partes  infini- 

se  fait  dans  le  rai*onnement  n'est  pas  celui  tas  est  infinitum,"  ina  manner  which  does 

des  noms.  mais  bien  celui  des  choses.  siOTi-  not  meet  the    real    truth  of   the  case: 


he  did  not  esteem,  with  less  attention  than    P-  <®  (*&*• 1667) 


88  DESCARTES.  PARI  HI. 

senses,  are  as  distinguishable  from  them  as  the  workman  from 
his  work.  He  has  given,  indeed,  to  Descartes  a  very  proud 
title,  Father  of  the  experimental  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  as  if  he  were  to  man  what  Bacon  was  to  nature.1  By 
patient  observation  of  what  passed  within  him,  by  holding  his 
soul,  as  it  were,  like  an  object  in  a  microscope,  which  is  the 
only  process  of  a  good  metaphysician,  he  became  habituated 
to  throw  away  those  integuments  of  sense  which  hide  us  from 
ourselves.  Stewart  has  censured  him  for  the  paradox,  as  he 
calls  it,  that  the  essence  of  mind  consists  in  thinking,  and  that 
of  matter  in  extension.  That  the  act  of  thinking  is  as  inse- 
parable from  the  mind  as  extension  is  from  matter,  cannot 
indeed,  be  proved  ;  since,  as  our  thoughts  are  successive,  it  is 
not  inconceivable  that  there  may  be  intervals  of  duration  be- 
tween them ;  but  it  can  hardly  be  reckoned  a  paradox.  But 
whoever  should  be  led  by  the  word  "  essence  "  to  suppose 
that  Descartes  confounded  the  percipient  thinking  substance, 
the  Ego,  upon  whose  bosom,  like  that  of  the  ocean,  the  waves 
of  perception  are  raised  by  every  breeze  of  sense,  with  the 
perception  itself,  or  even,  what  is  scarcely  more  tenable,  with 
the  reflective  action,  or  thought;  that  he  anticipated  this 
strange  paradox  of  Hume  in  his  earliest  work,  from  which 
he  silently  withdrew  in  his  Essays,  —  would  not  only  do  great 
injustice  to  one  of  the  acutest  understandings  that  ever  came 
to  the  subject,  but  overlook  several  clear  assertions  of  the  dis- 
tinction, especially  in  his  answer  to  Hobbes.  "  The  thought," 

1  Dissertation  on  Progress  of  Philosophy,  truth  had  been  previously  perceived  more 
The  word  "  experiment  "  must  be  taken  or  less  distinctly  by  Bacon  and  others,  ap- 
in  the  sense  of  observation.  Stewart  very  pears  probable  from  the  general  complex- 
early  took  up  his  admiration  for  Descartca.  ion  of  their  speculations;  but  which  of 
"  He  was  the  first  philosopher  who  stated  them  has  expressed  it  with  equal  precision, 
in  a  clear  and  satisfactory  manner  the  dis-  or  laid  it  down  as  a  fundamental  maxim  in 
tinction  between  mind  and  matter,  and  their  logic  ?  "  The  words  which  I  have 
who  pointed  out  the  proper  plan  for  study-  put  in  Italics  seem  too  vaguely  and  not  very 
inj*  the  intellectual  philosophy.  It  is  clearly  expressed,  nor  am  I  aware  that  they 
chiefly  in  consequence  of  his  precise  ideas  are  borne  out  in  their  literal  senso  by  any 
with  respect  to  this  distinction,  that  we  position  of  Descartes ;  nor  do  I  apprehend 
may  remark  in  all  his  metaphysical  writ-  the  allusion  to  Bacon.  But  it  is  certain 
ings  a  perspicuity  which  is  not  observable  that  Descartes,  and  still  more  his  disciple* 
in  those  of  any  of  His  predecessors." —  Arnauld  and  Malcbranchc,  take  better 
Klcm.  of  1'hilos.  of  Human  Mind,  vol.  i.  care  to  distinguish  what  can  be  imagmed 
(published  in  1792),  note  A.  "  When  DCS-  from  what  can  be  conceived  or  understood, 
cartes,''  he  says  in  the  dissertation  before  than  any  of  the  school  of  Oassendi  in  this 
quoted,  "  established  it  as  a  general  prin-  or  other  countries.  Oneof  the  great  merits 
ciple  that  nothing  conceivable  by  the  power  of  Descartes  as  a  metaphysical  writer,  not 
of  imagination  covid  throw  any  light  on  unconnected  with  this,  is  that  he  is  gener- 
the  operations  of  thought,  a  principle  which  ally  careful  to  avoid  figurative  language  in 
I  consider  as  exclusively  his  own,  he  laid  speaking  of  mental  operations;  wherein  h* 
the  foundations  of  the  experimental  philo-  has  much  the  advantage  over  Locke. 
«<>phy  of  the  human  mind.  That  the  same 


CHAP. 


HIS  PARADOXES. 


he  says,  "  differs  from  that  which  thinks,  as  the  mode  from  the 
substance."1  And  Stewart  has  in  his  earliest  work  justly  cor- 
rected Reid  in  this  point  as  to  the  Cartesian  doctrine.2 

1<»0.  Several  singular  positions,  which  have  led  to  an  undue 
depreciation  of  Descartes  in  general  as  a  philosopher,   T 

•*•  e-i.  i  •       Paradoxes 

occur  in  his  metaphysical  writings.      Such  was  his   of  DCS- 
denial  of  thought,  and,  as  is  commonly  said,  sensa-  cartes- 
tion,    to  brutes,   which  he   geems   to   have   founded   on    the 
mechanism   of  the  bodily  organs, — a  cause  sufficient,  in  his 
opinion,  to  explain  all  the  phenomena  of  the  motions  of  ani- 
mals, and  to  obviate  the  difficulty  of  assigning  to  them  imma- 
terial souls;3  his  rejection  of  final  causes  in  the  explanation 


1  Vol.  i.  p.  470.    Arnanld  objected,  in  a 
letter  to  Descartes.  "  Comment  FC  peut-il 
faire  que  la  pensee  constitue  1'essence  de 
1'esprit.  puisque  1'esprit  est  une  substance, 
et  que  la  pensee  semble  n'en  etre  qu'un 
mode?1'   Descartes  replied  that  thought  in 
general,  la  pensee,  ou  la  nature  qui  poise, 
in   which   he  placed   the  essence  of  the 
soul,  was  very  diiTerent  from  such  or  such 
particular  acts  of  thinking.    Vol.  vi.  pp. 
153.  !**>. 

2  Philosophy  of  Human  Mind,  TO!,  i. 
note  A.    See  the  Principia,  §  63. 

3  It  is  a  common  opinion  that  Descartes 
denied  all  life  and  sensibility  to  brutes ; 
hut  this  seems  not  so  clear.    "  11  faut  re- 
marquer,':   he  says  iu  a  letter  to  More, 
where  he  has  been  arguing  against  the  ex- 
istence in  brutes  of  any  thinking  princi- 
ple, •'  que  je  parle  de  la  pensee,  non  de  la 
vie  ou  du  sentiment :  car  je  n'ote  la  vie  i 
aucun  animal,  ne  la  faisant  consister  que 
dans  la  seule  chaleur  du  c«ur.    Je  ne  leur 
refuse  pas  meme  le  sentiment  autant  qu'il 
depend  des  organes  du   corps."  —  Vol.  x. 
p.  208.    In  a  longer  passage,  if  he  does  not 
express   himself  very  clearly,  he  admits 
passions  in  brutes  :  and  it  seems  impossible 
that   he  could  have  ascribed  pas.-ions  to 
•what  has  no  sensation.    Much  of  what  he 
here  says  is  very  good.     "  Bien  que  Mon- 
taigne et  Charron  aient  dit,  qu'il  y  a  plus 
de    difference    d'homme    i    homrne    que 
d'homme  4  bete,  il  n'est  toutefbis  jamais 
trouve  aucune  bete  si  parfaite.  qu'elle  ait 
use  de  quelque  signe  pour  faire  entendre  i 
d'autres  animaux  quelque  chose  qui  n'eut 
point  de  rapport  a  &es  passions ;  et  il  nry 
a  point  d'homme  si  imparfait  qu'il  n'en 
use  :  en  sorte  que  ceux  qui  sont  sourds  et 
muets  inventcnt  des  rignes  particnliers  par 
lesquels  ils  expriment  leurs  pensees :   ce 
qui  me  semble  un  tres-fort  argument  pour 
prouver  que  ce  qui  £iit  que  les  betes  ne 
parlent  point  comme  nous,  est  qu'elles 
n'ont  aucune  pensee,  et  non  point  que  les 


organes  leur  manquent.  Et  on  ne  pent 
dire  qu'elles  parlent  entre  elles.  mats  que 
nous  ne  leg  eutendons  pas ;  car  comme  les 
chiens  et  qiitlyues  autres  animaux  Mia 
expriment  leurs  passions,  ils  nous  expri- 
meroient  aussi-bien  leurs  pensees  s'ils  en 
avoient.  Je  sais  bien  que  les  betes  font 
beaucoup  de  choses  mieux  que  nous,  rnais 
je  ne  m'en  e  tonne  pas :  car  cela  meme  sert 
a  prouver  qu'elles  agissent  natnrellement, 
et  par  ressotte.  ainsi  qu:un  horloge ;  1»- 
quelle  montre  bien  mieux  Theure  qu'il  est, 
que  notre  jugement  nous  1'enseigne.  .  .  . 
On  peut  seulement  dire  que.  bienque  les 
betes  ne  fassent  aucune  action  qui  nous 
assure  qu'elles  pensent,  toutcfois.  i  cause 
que  les  organes  de  leurs  corps  ne  sont  pas 
fort  differens  des  notres,  on  peut  conjectu- 
rer  qu'il  y  a  quelque  pensee  jointe  A  ces 
organes.  ainsi  que  nous  experhr.entons  en 
nous,  bienque  la  leur  soit  beaucoup  moins 
parfaite  ;  a  quo!  je  n'ai  rien  a  repondre.  si 
non  que  si  elles  pensoient  aussi  que  nous, 
elles  auroieut  une  ame  immortelle  aussi 
bien  que  nous ;  ce  qui  nTest  pas  vraisem- 
blable,  4  oause  qu'il  n?j-  a  point  de  ration 
pour  le  croire  de  quelques  animaux.  sans 
le  croire  de  tons,  et  qu'il  y  en  a  plusieurs 
trop  imparfaits  pour  poiivou-  croire  cela 
d'eux,  comme  sont  les  huitres. les  eponges,'1 
&.-.  —  Vol.  ix.  p.  425.  I  do  not  see  the 
meaning  of  une  ame  immortelle  in  the 
last  sentence :  if  the  words  had  been  une 
ame  itnmaterielle,  it  would  be  to  the  pur- 
pose. More,  in  a  letter  to  which  this  i>  a 
reply,  had  argued  as  if  Descartes  took 
brutes  for  insensible  machines,  and  com- 
bats the  paradox  with  the  arguments  which 
common  sense  furnishes.  He  would  even 
have  preferred  ascribing  immortality  t» 
them,  as  many  ancient  philosophers  did 
But  surely  Descartes,  who  did  not  acknow- 
ledge any  proofs  of  the  immortality  of 
the  human  soul  to  be  valid,  except  those 
founded  on  revelation,  needed  not  to  trou- 
ble himself  much  about  this  difficulty. 


90  DESCARTES.  PART  HI. 

of  nature  as  far  above  our  comprehension,  and  unnecessary  to 
those  who  had  the  internal  proof  of  God's  existence ;  his  still 
more  paradoxical  tenet,  that  the  truth  of  geometrical  theo- 
rems, and  every  other  axiom  of  intuitive  ceitainty,  depended 
upon  the  will  of  God;  a  notion  that  seems  to  be  a  relic  of 
his  original  scepticism,  but  which  he  pertinaciously  defends 
throughout  his  letters.1  From  remarkable  errors,  men  of 
original  and  independent  genius  are  rarely  exempt:  Descartes 
had  pulled  down  an  edifice  constructed  by  the  labors  of  near 
two  thousand  years,  with  great  reason  in  many  respects,  yet 
perhaps  with  too  unlimited  a  disregard  of  his  predecessors ; 
it  was  his  destiny,  as  it  had  been  theirs,  to  be  sometimes 
refuted  and  depreciated  in  his  turn.  But  the  single  fact  of 
his  having  first  established,  both  in  philosophical  and  popular 
belief,  the  proper  immateriality  of  the  soul,  were  we  even  to 
forget  the  other  great  accessions  which  he  made  to  psychology, 
would  declare  the  influence  he  has  had  on  human  opinion. 
From  this  immateriality,  however,  he  did  not  derive  the  tenet 
of  its  immortality.  He  was  justly  contented  to  say,  that,  from 
the  intrinsic  difference  between  mind  and  body,  the  dissolution 
of  the  one  could  not  necessarily  take  away  the  existence  of 
the  other,  but  that  it  was  for  God  to  determine  whether  it 
should  continue  to  exist ;  and  this  determination,  as  he 
thought,  could  only  be  learned  from  his  revealed  will.  The 
more  powerful  arguments,  according  to  general  apprehension, 
which  reason  affords  for  the  sentient  being  of  the  soul  after 
death,  did  not  belong  to  the  metaphysical  philosophy  of  Des- 
cartes, and  would  never  have  been  very  satisfactory  to  his 
mind.  He  says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  that,  "  laying  aside  what 
faith  assures  us  of,  he  owns  that  it  is  more  easy  to  make  con- 
jectures for  our  own  advantage,  and  entertain  promising  hopes, 
than  to  feel  any  confidence  in  their  accomplishment."  2 

101.  Descartes  was  perhaps  the  first  who  saw  that  defini- 
.  tions  of  words,  already  as  clear  as  they  can  be  made, 

notion  of  are  nugatory  or  impracticable.  This  alone  would 
definitions,  ^gtinguish  his  philosophy  from  that  of  the  Aristote- 
lians, who  had  wearied  and  confused  themselves  for  twenty 

i  "  C'est  en  effet  parler  de  Dieu  comme  e1  tabli  ces  lois  en  la  nature ;  ainsi  qu'nn 

d'un  Jupiter  ou  d'un  Saturne,  et  1'assu-  roietablit  les  lois  en  son  royaume."  —  Vol. 

jettir  nu  Styx  et  aux  destinees,  que  de  dire  yi.  p.  109.    He  argues  as  strenuously  th« 

quo  ces  vcritcs  sont  independantes  de  lui.  game  point  in  p.  132  and  p  307. 

Ne  orai-rnez  point,  je  vous  prie,  d'assurer  2  Vol.  ix.  p.  369. 
et  de  publier  partout  que  c'est  Dieu  qui  a 


CHAP.  m.  HIS  NOTION  OF  DEFINITIONS.  9* 

centuries  with  unintelligible  endeavors  to  grasp  by  definition 
what  refuses  to  be  defined.  "Mr.  Locke,"  says  Stewart, 
"  claims  this  improvement  as  entirely  his  own  ;  but  the  merit 
of  it  unquestionably  belongs  to  Descartes,  although  it  must 
be  owned  that  he  has  not  always  sufficiently  attended  to  it  in 
his  researches."1  A  still  more  decisive  passage  to  this  effect 
than  that  referred  to  by  Stewart  in  the  Principia  will  be 
found  in  the  posthumous  dialogue  on  the  Search  after  Truth, 
[t  is  objected  by  one  of  the  interlocutors,  as  it  had  actually 
been  by  Gassendi,  that,  to  prove  his  existence  by  the  act 
of  thinking,  he  should  first  know  what  existence  and  what 
thought  is.  "  I  agree  with  you,"  the  representative  of  Des- 
cartes replies,  "  that  it  is  necessary  to  know  what  doubt  is, 
and  what  thought  is,  before  we  can  be  fully  persuaded  of  this 
reasoning  —  I  doubt,  therefore  I  am  —  or,  what  is  the  same 
—  I  think,  therefore  I  am.  But  do  not  imagine  that  for  this 
purpose  you  must  torture  your  mind  to  find  out  the  next 
genus,  or  the  essential  differences,  as  the  logicians  talk,  and 
so  compose  a  regular  definition.  Leave  this  to  such  as  teach 
or  dispute  in  the  schools.  But  whoever  will  examine  things 
by  himself,  and  judge  of  them  according  to  his  understanding, 
cannot  be  so  senseless  as  not  to  see  clearly,  when  he  pays 
attention,  what  doubting,  thinking,  being,  are,  or  to  have  any 
need  to  learn  their  distinctions.  Besides,  there  are  things 
which  we  render  more  obscure  in  attempting  to  define  them, 
because,  as  they  are  very  simple  and  very  clear,  we  cannot 
know  and  comprehend  them  better  than  by  themselves.  And 
it  should  be  reckoned  among  the  chief  errors  that  can  be  com- 
mitted in  science  for  men  to  fancy  that  they  can  define  that 

i  Dissertation,  uhi  suprd.  Stewart,  in  cartes,  and  previous  to  Locke,  Pascal  and 

bis  Philosophical  Essays,  note  A,  had  the  Port-Royal  logicians,  to  say  nothing 

eensured  Reid  for  assigning  this  remark  of  a  paper  of  Leibnitz  in  1684,  had  reduced 

to  Descartes  and  Locke,  but  without  it  to  a  matter  of  commonplace.  In  this 

giving  any  better  reason  than  that  it  is  instance,  Locke  can  indeed  be  proved  a 

found  in  a  work  written  by  Lord  Stair ;  borrower."  —  Hamilton's  edition  of  Reid, 

earlier,  certainly,  than  Locke,  but  not  p.  220.  But  this  very  learned  writer 

before  Descartes.  It  may  be  doubtful,  as  quotes  no  passage  from  Aristotle  to  tlii-; 

•we  shall  see  hereafter,  whether  Locke  has  effect ;  and  certainly  the  practice  of  that 

not  gone  beyond  Descartes,  or  at  least  philosopher  and  his  followers  was  to 

distinguished  undefinable  words  more  attempt  definitions  of  every  thing.  X  >r 

strictly.  could  Aristotle,  or  even  Descartes,  have 

[Sir'William  Hamilton  remarks  on  this  distinguished  undefinable  words  by  thrir 
passage,  where  Reid  assigns  the  observa-  expressing  simple  ideas  of  sense  or  reflec- 
tion to  Descartes  and  Locke:  "This  is  tion.  as  Locke  has  done,  when  they  have 
Incorrect.  Descartes  has  little,  and  Locke  not  made  that  classification  of  ideas  into 
no  praise  for  this  observation.  It  had  simple  and  complex,  which  forms  so  re 
been  made  by  Aristotle,  and  after  him  by  markable  a  part  of  his  philosophy  — 
many  others ;  while,  subsequently  to  Dea-  1847.] 


92  DESCARTEb.  PART  III 

which  they  can  only  conceive,  and  distinguish  what  is  clear  in 
it  from  what  is  obscure,  while  they  do  not  see  the  difference 
between  that  which  must  be  defined  before  it  is  understood, 
and  that  which  can  be  fully  known  by  itself.  Now,  among 
things  which  can  thus  be  clearly  known  by  themselves,  we 
must  put  doubting,  thinking,  being.  For  I  do  not  believe 
any  one  ever  existed  so  stupid  as  to  need  to  know  what  being 
is  before  he  could  affirm  that  he  is ;  and  it  is  the  same  of 
thought  and  doubt.  Nor  can  he  learn  these  things  except 
by  himself,  nor  be  convinced  of  them  but  by  his  own  expe- 
rience, and  by  that  consciousness  and  inward  witness  which 
every  man  finds  in  himself  when  he  examines  the  subject. 
And  as  we  should  define  whiteness  in  vain  to  a  man  who  can 
see  nothing,  while  one  who  can  open  his  eyes  and  see  a  white 
object  requires  no  more,  so  to  know  what  doubting  is,  and 
what  thinking  is,  it  is  only  necessary  to  doubt  and  to  think."1 
Nothing  could  more  tend  to  cut  short  the  verbal  cavils  of  the 
schoolmen,  than  this  limitation  of  their  favorite  exercise,  — 
definition.  It  is  due,  therefore,  to  Descartes,  so  often  accused 
of  appropriating  the  discoveries  of  others,  that  we  should 
establish  his  right  to  one  of  the  most  important  that  the  new 
logic  has  to  boast. 

102.  He  seems,  at  one  moment,  to  have  been  on  the  point 
His  notion  of    of  taking  another  step  very  far  in  advance  of  his 

substances        age        «  Let    ug    take>»  he    gavg?  «a    pjece    Qf    w.,x 

from  the  honeycomb ;  it  retains  some  taste  and  smell ;  it  is 
hard  ;  it  is  cold ;  it  has  a  very  marked  color,  form,  and  size. 
Approach  it  to  the  fire;  it  becomes  liquid,  warm,  inodorous, 
tasteless ;  its  form  and  color  are  changed,  its  size  is  increased. 
Does  the  same  wax  remain  after  these  changes  ?  It  must  be 
allowed  that  it  does :  no  one  doubts  it,  no  one  thinks  other- 
wise. What  was  it,  then,  that  we  so  distinctly  knew  to  exist 
in  this  piece  of  wax  ?  Nothing  certainly  that  we  observed  by 
the  senses,  since  all  that  the  taste,  .the  smell,  the  sight,  the 
touch,  reported  to  us  has  disappeared,  and  still  the  same  wax 
remains."  This  something  which  endures  under  every  change 
of  sensible  qualities  cannot  be  imagined ;  for  the  imagination 
must  represent  some  of  these  qualities,  and  none  of  them  are 
essential  to  the  thing :  it  can  only  be  conceived  by  the  under- 
standing.2 

103.  It  may  seem  almost  surprising  to  us,  after  the  writings 

1  Vol.  si.  p.  369.  *  Meditation  Seconds,  i.  266. 


CHAP.  III.      HIS  NOTIONS  OF  INTUITIVE  TRUTH. 

of  Locke  and  his  followers  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  chemist 
with  his  crucible  on  the  other,  have  chased  these  ab-  Not  quite 
stract  substances  of  material  objects  from  their  sane-  correct- 
tuaries,  that  a  man  of  such  prodigious  acuteness  and  intense 
reflection  as  Descartes  should  not  have  remarked  that  the 
identity  of  wax  after  its  liquefaction  is  merely  nominal,  and 
depending  on  arbitrary  language,  which  in  many  cases  gives 
new  appellations  to  the  same  aggregation  of  particles  after  a 
change  of  their  sensible  qualities ;  and  that  all  we  call  sub- 
stances are  but  aggregates  of  resisting  movable  corpuscles, 
which,  by  the  laws  of  nature,  are  capable  of  affecting  our 
senses  differently,  according  to  the  combinations  they  may 
enter  into,  and  the  changes  they  may  successively  undergo. 
But  if  he  had  distinctly  seen  this,  which  I  do  not  apprehend 
that  he  did,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  would  have  divulged  the 
discoveiy.  He  had  already  given  alarm  to  the  jealous  spirit 
of  orthodoxy  by  what  now  appears  to  many  so  self-evident, 
that  they  have  treated  the  supposed  paradox  as  a  trifling 
with  words,  —  the  doctrine  that  color,  heat,  smell,  and  other 
secondary  qualities,  or  accidents  of  bodies,  do  not  exist  in 
them,  but  in  our  own  minds,  and  are  the  effects  of  their 
intrinsic  or  primary  qualities.  It  was  the  tenet  of  the  schools, 
that  these  were  sensible  realities,  inherent  in  bodies ;  and  the 
church  held  as  an  article  of  faith,  that,  the  substance  of  bread 
being  withdrawn  from  the  consecrated  wafer,  the  accidents  of 
that  substance  remained  as  before,  but  independent,  and  not 
inherent  in  any  other.  Arnauld  raised  this  objection,  which 
Descartes  endeavored  to  repel  by  a  new  theory  of  transub- 
stantiation ;  but  it  always  left  a  shade  of  suspicion,  in  the 
Catholic  Church  of  Rome,  on  the  orthodoxy  of  Cartesianism. 
104.  "The  paramount  and  indisputable  authority,  which, 
in  all  our  reasonings  concerning  the  human  mind, 

,  .,  .  ,  °f,  .  ...      His  no- 

he    ascribes   to   the   evidence    01   consciousness,     is   tions  of 

reckoned   by  Stewart  among  the   great  merits  of   j.°^tiTe 
Descartes.     It  is  certain  that  there  are  truths  which 
we  know,  as  it  is  called,  intuitively ;  that  is,  by  the  mind's 
immediate  inward  glance.     And   reasoning  would  be  inter- 
minable, if  it  did  not  find  its  ultimate  limit  in  truths  which  it 
cannot  prove.     Gassendi  imputed  to  Descartes,  that,  in  his 
fundamental  enthymeme,  "  Cogito,  ergo  sum,"  he  supposed  a 
knowledge  of  the  major  premise,  "  Quod  cogitat,  est."     Bu* 
Descartes  replied  that  it  was  a  great  error  to  believe  that  our 


94  DESCARTES.  PART  III 

knowledge  of  particular  propositions  must  always  be  deduced 
from  universals,  according  to  the  rules  of  logic ;  whereas,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  by  means  of  our  knowledge  of  particulars 
that  we  ascend  to  generals,  though  it  is  true  that  we  descend 
again  from  them  to  infer  other  particular  propositions.1  It  is 
probable  that  Gassendi  did  not  make  this  objection  very 
seriously. 

105.  Thus  the  logic  of  Descartes,  using  that  word  for  prin- 
ciples that  guide  our  reasoning,  was  an  instrument  of  defence 
both  against  the  captiousness  of  ordinary  scepticism,  that  of 
the  Pyrrhonic  school,  and  against  the  disputatious  dogmatism 
of  those  who  professed  to  serve  under  the  banner  of  Aris- 
totle.     He  who  reposes  on  his   own  consciousness,  or  who 
recurs  to  first  principles  of  intuitive  knowledge,  though  he 
cannot  be  said  to  silence  his  adversary,  should  have  the  good 
sense   to   be  silent  himself;   which   puts  equally   an  end  to 
debate.     But,  so  far  as  we   are   concerned  with  the  inves- 
tigation of  truth,  the  Cartesian  appeal  to  our  own  conscious- 
ness,  of   which    Stewart    was   very   fond,  just   as   it   is   in 
principle,  may  end  in  an  assumption  of  our  own  prejudices 
as  the  standard  of  belief.     Nothing  can  be  truly  self-evident 
but  that  which  a  clear,  an  honest,  and  an  experienced  under- 
standing in  another  man  acknowledges  to  be  so. 

106.  Descartes  has  left  a  treatise  highly  valuable,  but  not 
very  much  known,  on  the  art  of  logic,  or  rules  for  the  con- 
duct of  the  understanding.2     Once  only,  in  a  letter,  he  has 

1  Vol.  ii.  p.  805.  See,  too,  the  passage,  he  sustains  the  metaphysical  principles  of 

quoted  above,  in  his  posthumous  dialogue,  his  philosophy.  Of  these  two  little  tracts 

[Perhaps  the  best  answer  might  hare  their  editor  has  said,  "  that  they  equal  in 

been,  that  "  Cogito,  ergo  sum,"  though  vigor  and  perhaps  surpass  in  arrangement 

thrown  into  the  form  of  an  enthymeme,  the  Meditations,  and  Discourse  on  Method, 

was  not  meant  so  much  for  a  logical  infer-  We  see  in  these  more  unequivocally  the 

ence,  as  an  assertion  of  consciousness.  It  main  object  of  Descartes,  and  the  spirit  of 

has  been  observed,  that  cngito  is  equiva-  tb.8  revolution  which  has  created  modern 

lent  to  sum  cogitans,  and  involves  the  philosophy,  and  placed  in  the  undrrstand- 

conclusion.  It  is  impossible  to  employ  ing  itself  the  principle  of  all  certainty,  the 

rules  of  logic  upon  operations  of  the  mind  point  of  departure  for  all  leiritim:iti>  in- 

which  are  anterior  to  all  reasoning. —  quiry.  They  might  seem  written  but 

1847.]  yesterday,  and  for  the  present  age."  — 

-  M.  Cousin  has  translated  and  repub-  Vol.  xi.,  preface,  p.  i.  I  may  add  to  this, 

lished  two  works  of  Descartes,  which  had  that  I  consider  the  Rules  for  the  Direction 

only  appeared  in  Opera  Posthumat'artesii,  of  the  Understanding  as  one  of  the  best 

Amsterdam,  1701.  Their  authenticity,  works  on  logic  (in  the  enlarged  sense) 

from  external  and  intrinsic  proofs,  is  out  which  I  have  ever  read ;  more  practically 

of  question.  One  of  these  is  that  men-  useful,  perhaps,  to  young  students,  than 

tioned  in  the  text,  entitled  Rules  for  the  the  Novum  Organum  ;  and  though,  as  I 

Direction  of  the  Understanding;  which,  have  said,  his  illustrations  are  chiefly 

though  logical  in  its  subject,  takes  most  of  mathematical,  most  of  his  rules  are  appli- 

«ts  illustrations  from  mathematics.  The  cable  to  the  general  discipline  of  the  rea 

•  ther  is  a  dialogue,  left  imperfect,  in  which  souiug  powers.  It  occupies  little  mot* 


CHAP.  HI.  MERITS  OF  HIS  WRITINGS.  95 

alluded  to  the  name  of  Bacon.1  There  are,  perhaps,  a  few 
passages  in  this  short  tract  that  remind  us  of  the  Treatise  on 
Novum  Organum.  But  I  do  not  know  that  the  coinci-  art  of  lo&c- 
dence  is  such  as  to  warrant  a  suspicion  that  he  was  indebted 
to  it :  we  may  reckon  it  rather  a  parallel  than  a  derivative 
logic  ;  written  in  the  same  spirit  of  cautious,  inductive  proce- 
dure, less  brilliant  and  original  in  its  inventions,  but  of  more 
general  application,  than  the  Novum  Organum,  which  is  witr. 
some  difficulty  extended  beyond  the  province  of  natural  philo- 
sophy. Descartes  is  as  averse  as  Bacon  to  syllogistic  forms. 
"  Truth,"  he  says,  "  often  escapes  from  these  fetters,  in  which 
those  who  employ  them  remain  entangled.  This  is  less  fre- 
quently the  case  with  those  who  make  no  use  of  logic ;  experi- 
ence showing  that  the  most  subtle  of  sophisms  cheat  none  but 
sophists  themselves,  not  those  who  trust  to  their  natural  rea- 
son. And,  to  convince  ourselves  how  little  this  syllogistic  art 
serves  towards  the  discovery  of  truth,  we  may  remark  that 
the  logicians  can  form  no  syllogism  with  a  true  conclusion, 
unless  they  are  already  acquainted  with  the  truth  that  the 
syllogism  develops.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  vulgar  logic  is 
wholly  useless  to  him  who  would  discover  truth  for  himself, 
though  it  may  assist  in  explaining  to  others  the  truth  he 
already  knows,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to  transfer  it  as  a 
science  from  philosophy  to  rhetoric."  2 

107.  It  would  occupy  too  much  space  to  point  out  the 
many  profound  and  striking  thoughts  which  this  Merits  of 
treatise  on  the  conduct  of  the  understanding,  and  bis  writings. 
indeed  most  of  the  writings  of  Descartes,  contain.  "  The 
greater  part  of  the  questions  on  which  the  learned  dispute 
are  but  questions  of  words.  These  occur  so  frequently,  that, 
if  philosophers  would  agree  on  the  signification  of  their  words, 
scarce  any  of  their  controversies  would  remain."  This  has 
been  continually  said  since ;  but  it  is  a  proof  of  some  pro- 
gress in  wisdom,  when  the  original  thought  of  one  age  be- 
comes the  truism  of  the  next.  No  one  had  been  so  much  on 
his  guard  against  the  equivocation  of  words,  or  knew  so  well 
their  relation  to  the  operations  of  the  mind.  And  it  may  be 

than  one  hundred  pages ;  and  I  think  that  J  "  Si  quelqu'un  de  cette  humour  TOTI 

I  am  doing  a  service  in  recommending  it.  loit  entreprendre  d'ecrire    1'histoire   de» 

Many  of  the  rules  will,  of  course,  be  found  apparences  celestes  selon  la  methode  d« 

in  later  books ;  some,  possibly,  in  earlier.  Verulamius."  —  Vol.  vi.  p.  210 

This  tract,  as  well  as  the  dialogue  which  2  Vol.  xi.  p.  255. 
follows  it,  is  incomplete  ;  a  portion  being 
probably  lost 


96  DESCAETES.  PAUT  III, 

said  generally,  though  not  without  exception,  of  the  metaphy- 
sical writings  of  Descartes,  that  we  find  in  them  a  perspicuity 
which  springs  from  his  unremitting  attention  to  the  logical 
process  of  inquiry,  admitting  no  doubtful  or  ambiguous  posi- 
tion, and  never  requiring  from  his  reader  a  deference  to  any 
authority  but  that  of  demonstration.  It  is  a  great  advan- 
tage, in  reading  such  writers,  that  we  are  able  to  discern 
when  they  are  manifestly  in  the  wrong.  The  sophisms  of 
Plato,  of  Aristotle,  of  the  schoolmen,  and  of  a  great  many 
recent  metaphysicians,  are  disguised  by  their  obscurity  ;  and, 
while  they  creep  insidiously  into  the  mind  of  the  reader,  are 
always  denied  and  explained  away  by  partial  disciples. 

108.  Stewart  has  praised  Descartes  for  having  recourse 
His  notions  to  the  evidence  of  consciousness  in  order  to  prove 
of  free-wiii.  the  liberty  of  the  will.  But  he  omits  to  tell  us,  that 
the  notions  entertained  by  this  philosopher  were  not  such 
as  have  been  generally  thought  compatible  with  free  agen- 
cy in  the  only  sense  that  admits  of  controversy.  It  was 
an  essential  part  of  the  theory  of  Descartes,  that  God  is  the 
cause  of  all  human  actions.  "  Before  God  sent  us  into 
the  world,"  he  says  in  a  letter,  "  he  knew  exactly  what  all 
the  inclinations  of  our  will  would  be ;  it  is  he  that  has  im- 
planted them  in  us  ;  it  is  he  also  that  has  disposed  all  other 
things,  so  that  such  or  such  objects  should  present  themselves 
to  us  at  such  or  such  times,  by  means  of  which  he  has  known 
that  our  free-will  would  determine  us  to  such  or  such  actions, 
and  he  has  willed  that  it  should  be  so ;  but  he  has  not  willed 
to  compel  us  thereto." l  "  We  could  not  demonstrate,"  he  says 
at  another  time,  "  that  God  exists,  except  by  considering 
him  as  a  being  absolutely  perfect ;  and  he  could  not  be 
absolutely  perfect,  if  there  could  happen  any  thing  in  the 
world  which  did  not  spring  entirely  from  him.  .  .  .  Mere 
philosophy  is  enough  to  make  us  know  that  there  cannot  enter 
the  least  thought  into  the  mind  of  man,  but  God  must  will 
and  have  willed  from  all  eternity  that  it  should  enter  there." 2 
This  is  in  a  letter  to  his  highly  intelligent  friend,  the  Princess 
Palatine  Elizabeth,  grand-daughter  of  James  I.  ;  and  he 
proceeds  to  declare  himself  strongly  in  favor  of  predestination, 
denying  wholly  any  particular  providence,  to  which  she  had 
alluded,  as  changing  the  decrees  of  God,  and  all  efficacy  of 
prayer,  except  as  one  link  in  the  chain  of  his  determinations. 

1  Vol.  ix.  p.  374.  *  Id.,  p.  246. 


CHAP.  HI.  FAME  OF  HIS  SYSTEM.  97 

Descartes,  therefore,  whatever  some  of  his  disciples  may  have 
become,  was  far  enough  from  an  Arminian  theology.  "  As  to 
free-will."  he  says  elsewhere,  "  I  own  that,  thinking  only  of 
ourselves,  we  cannot  but  reckon  it  independent ;  but,  when  we 
think  of  the  infinite  power  of  God,  we  cannot  but  believe  that 
all  things  depend  on  him,  and  that  consequently  our  free-will 
must  do  so  too.  .  .  .  But,  since  our  knowledge  of  the  existence 
of  God  should  not  hinder  us  from  being  assured  of  our  free- 
will, because  we  feel,  and  are  conscious  of  it  in  ourselves,  so 
that  of  olir  free-will  should  not  make  us  doubt  of  the  existence 
of  God.  For  the  independence  which  we  experience  and  feel 
in  ourselves,  and  which  is  sufficient  to  make  our  actions 
praiseworthy  or  blamable,  is  not  incompatible  with  a  depend- 
ence of  another  nature,  according  to  which  all  things  are 
subject  to  God."1 

109.  A  system  so  novel,  so  attractive  to  the  imagination 
by  its  bold  and  brilliant  paradoxes,  as  that  of  Des- 
cartes, could  not  but  excite  the  attention  of  an  age  B\stem,  and 
already  roused  to  the  desire  of  a  new  philosophy,  attacks 
and  to  the  scorn  of  ancient  authority.  His  first 
treatises  appeared  in  French ;  and,  though  he  afterwards  em- 
ployed Latin,  his  works  were  very  soon  translated  by  his 
disciples,  and  under  his  own  care.  He  wrote  in  Latin  with 
great  perspicuity ;  in  French  with  liveliness  and  elegance. 
His  mathematical  and  optical  writings  gave  him  a  reputation 
which  envy  could  not  take  away,  and  secured  his  philosophy 
from  that  general  ridicule  which  sometimes  overwhelms  an 
obscure  author.  His  very  enemies,  numerous  and  vehement 
as  they  were,  served  to  enhance  the  celebrity  of  the  Cartesian 
system,  which  he  seems  to  have  anticipated  by  publishing 
their  objections  to  his  Meditations  with  his  own  replies.  In 
the  universities,  bigoted  for  the  most  part  to  Aristotelian 
authority,  he  had  no  chance  of  public  reception ;  but  the 
influence  of  the  universities  was  much  diminished  in  France, 
and  a  new  theory  had  perhaps  better  chances  in  its  favor  on 
account  of  their  opposition.  But  the  Jesuits,  a  more  power- 
ful body,  were,  in  general,  adverse  to  the  Cartesian  system, 
and  especially  some  time  afterwards,  when  it  was  supposed 
to  have  the  countenance  of  several  leading  Jansenists.  Tho 

1  Vol.  ix.  p.  368.  This  had  originally  determination  of  God  being  both  asserted 
been  stated  in  the  Prinoipia  with  less  as  true,  but  their  co-existence  incompre- 
confidence ;  the  free-will  of  man  and  pre-  hensibJs.  Vol.  iii.  p.  86 


98  DESCARTES.  PART  m. 

Epicurean  school,  led  by  Gassendi  and  Hobbes,  presented  a 
formidable  phalanx ;  since  it  in  fact  comprehended  the  wits 
of  the  world,  the  men  of  indolence  and  sensuality,  quick  to 
discern  the  many  weaknesses  of  Cartesianism,  with  no  capa- 
city for  its  excellences.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  how  predo- 
minant this  class  was  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  both  in  France  and  England. 

110.  Descartes  was  evidently  in  considerable  alarm  lest  the 
Controversy  church  should  bear  with  its  weight  upon  his  philoso- 
«"thVoet.  phy.1  He  had  the  censure  on  Galileo  before  his 
eyes,  and  certainly  used  some  chicane  of  words  as  to  the 
earth's  movement  upon  this  account.  It  was,  however,  in 
the  Protestant  country  which  he  had  chosen  as  his  harbor  of 
refuge  that  he  was  doomed  to  encounter  the  roughest  storm. 
Gisbert  Voet,  an  eminent  theologian  in  the  University  of 
Utrecht,  and  the  head  of  the  party  in  the  Church  of  Holland, 
which  had  been  victorious  in  the  Synod  of  Dort,  attacked 
Descartes  with  all  the  virulence  and  bigotry  characteristic  of 
his  school  of  divinity.  The  famous  demonstration  of  the 
being  of  God  he  asserted  to  be  a  cover  for  atheism,  and 
thus  excited  a  flame  of  controversy ;  Descartes  being  not 
without  supporters  in  the  university,  especially  Regius,  pro- 
fessor of  medicine.  The  philosopher  was  induced  by  these 
assaults  to  change  his  residence  from  a  town  in  the  province 
of  Utrecht  to  Leyden.  Voet  did  not  cease  to  pursue  him 
with  outrageous  calumny,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  decrees 
of  the  senate  and  University  of  Utrecht,  which  interdicted 
Regius  from  teaching  that  "  new  and  unproved  (prcesiimpfa) 
philosophy"  to  his  pupils.  The  war  of  libels  on  the  Yoetian 
side  did  not  cease  for  some  years,  and  Descartes  replied  with 
no  small  acrimony  against  Voet  himself.  The  latter  had 
recourse  to  the  civil  power,  and  instituted  a  prosecution 
against  Descartes,  which  was  quashed  by  the  interference  of 
the  Prince  of  Orange.  But  many  in  the  University  of  Ley- 
den,  under  the  influence  of  a  notable  theologian  of  that  age, 
named  Triglandius,  one  of  the  stoutest  champions  of  Dutch 
orthodoxy,  raised  a  cry  against  the  Cartesian  philosophy  as 

*  "  On  a  tellement  assujetti  la  theologle  touchant  l'6tendue  du  monde :  savoir  s'il 

4  Aristote,  qu'il  est  impossible  d'expliquer  est  fini  ou  plutdt  infini.  et  si  tout  cequ'on 

inn-  autre  philosophic   qu'il    ne    semble  appelle    expacee    inmjrinaires    soient    del 

d'abord  qu'elle  soit   centre   la  foi.     Et  c-orps  crees  et  Yeritables." —  Vol.   Ti.  p. 

apropos  de  ceci,  je  vous  prie  de  me  man-  78. 
del  s'il  n'y  a  rien  de  determine  en  la  foi 


CHAP.  m.  CHARGES  OF  PLAGIARISM.  99 

being  favorable  to  Pelagianism  and  Popery,  the  worst  namea 
that  could  be  given  in  Holland ;  and  it  was  again  through  the 
protection  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  that  he  escaped  a  public 
censure.  Regius,  the  most  zealous  of  his  original  advocates, 
began  to  swerve  from  the  fidelity  of  a  sworn  disciple,  and 
published  a  book  containing  some  theories  of  his  own,  which 
Descartes  thought  himself  obliged  to  disavow.  Ultimately 
he  found,  like  many  benefactors  .of  mankind,  that  he  had  pur- 
chased reputation  at  the  cost  of  peace ;  and,  after  some  visits 
to  France,  where,  probably  from  the  same  cause,  he  never 
designed  to  settle,  found  an  honorable  asylum  and  a  prema- 
ture death  -at  the  court  of  Christina.  He  died  in  1651, 
having  worked  a  more  important  change  in  speculative  philo- 
sophy than  any  who  had  preceded  bun  since  the  revival  of 
learning;  for  there  could  be  no  comparison  in  that  age  be- 
tween the  celebrity  and  effect  of  his  writings  and  those  of 
Lord  Bacon.1 

111.  The  prejudice  against  Descartes,  especially  in  his  own 
country,  was  aggravated  by  his  indiscreet  and  not  charges  of 
very  warrantable  assumption  of  perfect  originality.2  P^a^m. , 
No  one,  I  think,  can  fairly  refuse  to  own,  that  the  Cartesian 
metaphysics,  taken  in  their  consecutive  arrangement,  form 
truly  an  original  system ;  and  it  would  be  equally  unjust  to 
deny  the  splendid  discoveries  he  developed  in  algebra  and 
optics.  But,  upon  every  one  subject  which  Descartes  treated, 
he  has  not  escaped  the  charge  of  plagiarism :  professing 
always  to  be  ignorant  of  what  had  been  done  by  others,  he 
falls  perpetually  into  their  track;  more,  as  his  adversaries 
maintained,  than  the  chances  of  coincidence  could  fairly  ex- 

1  The   life  of  Descartes   was   written,  inventing  my  own.    This  disposition  alone 

very  fully  and  with  the  warmth  of  a  dis-  impelled  me  in  yonth  to   the  study  of 

eiple,  by'Baillet,  in  two  volumes  quarto,  science :    hence,  whenever    a   new  book 

1691,  of  which  he  afterwards  published  promised  by  its  title  some  new  discovery, 

an  abridgment.    In  this,  we  find  at  length  before  sitting  down  to  read  it,  I  used  to 

the  attacks  made  on  him  by  the  Voetian  try   whether  my    own   natural   sagacity 

theologians.     Brucker  has  given  a  long  could  lead  me  to  any  thing  of  the  kind ; 

and  valuable  account  of  the    Cartesian  and  I  took  care  not  to  lose  this  innocent 

philosophy,  but  not  favorable,  and  per-  pleasure  by  too  hasty  a  perusal.    This 

haps  not  quite  fair.    Vol.  v.  pp.  200-334.  answered  so  often,  that  I  at  length  per- 

Buhle   is,    as   usual,    much   inferior    to  ceived  that  I  arrived  at  truth,   not   as 

Brucker.    But  those  who  omit  the  ma-  other  men  do,  after  blind  and  precarious 

thematic.il  portion  will  not  find  the  on-  gnesses,  by  good  luck  rather  than  skill; 

ginal  works  of  Descartes  very  long ;  and  but  that  long  experience  had  taught  mo 

they  are  well  worthy  of  being  read.  certain  fixed  rules,  which  were  of  snr- 

1  "  I  confess/'  he  says  in  his  Logic.  "  that  prising  utility,  and  of  which  I  afterward* 

I  was  born  with  such  a  temper,  that  the  made  use  to  discover  more  truths." — Vol. 

chief  pleasure  I  find  in  study  is,  not  from  xi.  p.  252. 
teaming  the  arguments  of  others,  bat  by 


100 


DESCARTES. 


PART  HI. 


plain.  Leibnitz  has  summed  up  the  claims  of  earlier  writers 
to  the  pretended  discoveries  of  Descartes ;  and  certainly  it  is 
a  pretty  long  bill  to  be  presented  to  any  author.  I  shall 
insert  this  passage  in  a  note,  though  much  of  it  has  no  refer- 
ence to  this  portion  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy.1  It  may 
perhaps  be  thought  by  candid  minds,  that  we  cannot  apply 
the  doctrine  of  chances  to  coincidence  of  reasoning  in  men  of 
acute  and  inquisitive  spirits,  as  fairly  as  we  may  to  that 
if  style  or  imagery ;  but,  if  we  hold  strictly  that  the  old  writer 
may  claim  the  exclusive  praise  of  a  philosophical  discovery, 
we  must  regret  to  see  such  a  multitude  of  feathers  plucked 
from  the  wing  of  an  eagle. 


1  "Dogmata  ejus  metaphysica,  velut 
circa  ideas  a  sensibus  remotes,  et  animae 
distinctionem  a  corpore,  et  fluxam  per  se 
rerum  materialium  Mem,  prorsus  Pla- 
tonica  sunt.  Argumentum  pro  existentia 
Dei,  ex  eo,  quod  ens  perfectissimum,  Tel 
quo  majus  intelligi  non  potest,  existen- 
tiam  includit,  fuit  Anselmi,  et  in  libro 
'  Contra  insipientetn  '  inscripto  extat  inter 
ejus  opera,  passimque  a  scholasticis  exa- 
1  minatur.  In  doctrina  de  continue,  pleno 
et  loco  Aristotelem  noster  secutus  est, 
Stoicosque  in  re  morali  penitus  expressit, 
floriferis  ut  apes  in  saltibus  omnia  libant. 
In  explicatione  rerum  mechanica  Leucip- 
pum  et  Democritum  praeeuntes  habuit 
qui  et  vortices  ipsos  jam  docuerant.  Jor- 
danus  Brunus  easdem  fere  de  magnitudine 
universi  ideas  habuisse  dicitur,  quem- 
admodum  et  notavit  V.  CO.  Stephanus 
Spleissius,  ut  de  Gilberto  nil  dieam,  cujua 
magneticae  considerationes  turn  per  se,  turn 
ad  systema  universi  applicatae,  Cartesio 
plurimum  profuerunt.  Explicationem  gra- 
vitatis  per  materiao  solidioris  rejectionem 
in  bingente,  quod  in  physica  Cartesiana 
prope  pulcherrimum  est,  didicit  ex  Keple- 
ro,  qui  similitudine  palearum  motu  aquae 
in  vase  gyrantis  ad  centrum  contrusarum 
rem  explicuit  primus.  Actionem  lucis  in 
distans,  similitudine  baculi  pressi  jam 
veteres  adumbravere.  Circa  iridem  a  M. 
Antonio  de  Dominis  non  parum  lucis 
accepit.  Keplerum  fuisse  primum  suum 
in  dioptricis  magistrunf,  et  in  eo  argumen- 
to  omnes  ante  se  mortales  longo  intervallo 
antegressum,  fatetur  Cartesius  in  epistolis 
iamiliaribus ;  nam  in  scriptis,  quas  ipse 
edidit,  longe  abest  a  tali  confessione  aut 
liiiule :  tametsi  ilia  ratio,  qusa  rationum 
directionem  explicat,  ex  compositione 
nimirum  duplicis  conatfis  perpemlicularis 
ad  superficiem  et  ad  eandem  parallel!,  di- 
Berte  apud  Keplerum  extet,  qui  eodem, 
ut  Ciirtesius.  modo  aequalitatem  angulo 
rum  incident!®  et  reflexionis  nine  leducit 


Idque  gratam  mentionem  ideo  merebatur, 
quod  omnis  prope  Cartesii  ratiocinatio 
huic  innititur  principio.  Legem  refrac- 
tionis  primuin  invenisse  Willebroodum 
Snellium,  Isaacus  Vossius  patefecit,  quan- 
quam  non  ideo  negare  ausim,  Cartesium 
in  eadem  incidere  potuisse  de  suo.  Nega- 
vit  in  epistolis  Vietam  sibi  lectum,  sed 
Thomae  Harriott  Angli  libros  analyticos 
posthumos  anno  1631  editos  vidisse  multi 
vix  dubitant;  usque  adeo  magnus  est 
eorum  consensus  cum  calculo  geometries 
Cartesianas.  Sane  jam  Ilarriotus  aequa- 
tionem  nihilo  aequalem  posuit,  et  hino 
derivavit,  quomodo  oriatur  tequatio  ex 
multiplicatione  radicum  in  se  invicem,  et 
quomodo  radicum  auctione,  diminutione, 
multiplicatione  aut  divisione  variari  acqua- 
tio  possit,  et  quomodo  proinde  natura,  et 
constitutio  a  M  unit  inn  um  et  radicum  cog- 
nosci  possit  ex  terminorum  hahitudine. 
Itaque  narrat  celeberrimus  Wallisius, 
Robervalium,  qui  miratus  erat,  unde 
Cartesio  in  mentem  venisset  palmarium 
illud,  aequationem  ponere  aequalein  nihilo 
ad  instar  unius  quantitatis,  ostenso  sibi  a 
Domino  de  Cavendish  libro  Harriot!  ex- 
clamasse, '  II  1'a  vu  !  11 1'a vu  ! '  vMit.  vklit. 
Reductionem  quadrato-quadratae  aequa- 
tionis  ad  cubicam  superior!  jam  saseulo 
invenit  Ludovicus  Ferrarius,  cujus  vitam 
reliquit  Cardanus  ejus  familiaris.  Deni- 
que  fuit  Cartesius,  uta  viris  doctis  dudum 
notatum  est,  et  ex  epistolis  niiiiiuni  ap- 
paret,  immodicus  conU-mptor  aliorum,  et 
famae  cupiditate  ab  artiticiis  non  abstinens, 
quae  parum  generosa  videri  po.-sunt. 
Atque  haec  profecto  non  dico  animo  ob- 
ti-ectandi  viro,  quern  mirifice  aestimo,  sed 
eo  consilio,  ut  cuique  suum  tribuatur, 
nee  unus  omnium  laudes  absorbeat ;  jus- 
tissimum  enim  est,  ut  inventoribus  suua 
honos  constet,  nee  sublatis  virtutum 
praDmiis  praeclara  facieudi  studium  refri- 
gescat."  —  Leibnitz,  apud  Brucker,  v.  265. 


CHAP.  EH.    METAPHYSICAL  PHILOSOPHY  OF  HOBBES.         101 

112.    The   name    of  Descartes   as   a   great  metaphysical 
writer  has  revived,  in  some  measure,  of  late  years :   T 

11-11  \  •    n  •  i  Kecent  in- 

and  this  has  been  chiefly  owing,  among  ourselves,  to  create  of 
Dugald  'Stewart  :  in  France,  to  the  growing  disposi-  his  Cune' 
tion  of  their  philosophers  to  cast  away  their  idols  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  "  I  am  disposed,"  says  our  Scottish  phi- 
losopher, "  to  date  the  origin  of  the  true  philosophy  of  mind 
from  the  Principia  (why  not  the  earlier  works  ?)  of  Descartes, 
rather  than  from  the  Organum  of  Bacon,  or  the  Essays  of 
Locke ;  without,  however,  meaning  to  compare  the  French 
author  with  our  two  countrymen,  either  as  a  contributor  to 
our  stock  of  facts  relating  to  the  intellectual  phenomena,  or 
as  the  author  of  any  important  conclusion  concerning  the 
general  laws  to  which  they  may  be  referred."  The  excellent 
edition  by  M.  Cousin,  in  which  alone  the  entire  works  of 
Descartes  can  be  found,  is  a  homage  that  France  has  recently 
offered  to  his  memory,  and  an  important  contribution  to  the 
studious  both  of  metaphysical  and  mathematical  philosophy. 
I  have  made  use  of  no  other,  though  it  might  be  desirable  for 
the  inquirer  to  have  the  Latin  original  at  his  side,  especially 
in  those  works  which  had^not  been  seen  in  French  by  their 
author. 


SECTION  IV. 

On  the  Metaphysical  Philosophy  of  Hobbes. 

113.  THE  metaphysical  philosophy  of  Hobbes  was  pro- 
mulgated in  his  treatise  on  Human  Nature,  which  Meta  hT8l_ 
appeared  in  1 650.  This,  with  his  other  works,  De*  cai  treatises 
Cive  and  De  Corpore  Politico,  were  fused  into  that  of 
great  and  general  system,  which  he  published  in  1651,  with 
the  title  of  Leviathan.  The  first  part  of  the  Leviathan,  "  Of 
Man."  follows  the  several  chapters  of  the  treatise  on  Human 
Nature  with  much  regularity ;  but  so  numerous  are  the  en- 
largements or  omissions,  so  many  are  the  variations  with 
which  the  author  has  expressed  the  same  positions,  that  they 
should  much  rather  be  considered  as  two  works,  than  as  two 
editions  of  the  same.  They  differ  more  than  Lord  Bacon's 


102  HOBBES.  PART  IIL 

treatise,  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum,  does  from  his  Advance- 
ment of  Learning.  I  shall,  however,  blend  the  two  in  a  single 
analysis ;  and  this  I  shall  generally  give,  as  far  as  is  possible, 
consistently  with  my  own  limits,  in  the  very  words  of  Hobbes. 
His  language  is  so  lucid  and  concise,  that  it  would  be  almost 
as  improper  to  put  an  algebraical  process  in  different  terms  as 
some  of  his  metaphysical  paragraphs.  But,  as  a  certain 
degree  of  abridgment  cannot  be  dispensed  with,  the  reader 
must  not  take  it  for  granted,  even  where  inverted  commas 
denote  a  closer  attention  to  the  text,  that  nothing  is  omitted, 
although,  in  such  cases,  I  never  hold  it  permissible  to  make 
any  change. 

114.  All  single  thoughts,  it  is  the  primary  tenet  of  Hobbes, 
His  theory  are  representations  or  appearances  of  some  quality 
of  sensation  of  a  ^0(jy  without  us,  which  is  commonly  called  an 
object.  "  There  is  no  conception  in  a  man's  mind,  which  hath 
not  at  first  totally,  or  by  parts,  been  begotten  upon  the  organs 
of  sense.  The  rest  are  derived  from  that  original." l  In  the 
treatise  on  Human  Nature,  he  dwells  long  on  the  immediate 
causes  of  sensation ;  and  if  no  alteration  had  been  made  in 
his  manuscript  since  he  wrote  his  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of 
Newcastle,  in  1640,  he  must  be  owned  to  have  anticipated 
Coincident  Descartes  in  one  of  his  most  celebrated  doctrines, 
with  Des-  "  Because  the  image  in  vision,  consisting  in  color 
and  shape,  is  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  qualities 
of  the  object  of  that  sense,  it  is  no  hard  matter  for  a  man  to 
fall  into  this  opinion,  that  the  same  color  and  shape  are  the 
very  qualities  themselves ;  and  for  the  same  cause,  that  sound 
and  noise  are  the  qualities  of  the  bell,  or  of  the  air.  And 
this  opinion  hath  been  so  long  received,  that  the  contrary 
must  needs  appear  a  great  paradox  ;  and  yet  the  introduction 
of  species^  visible  and  intelligible  (which  is  necessary  for  the 
maintenance  of  that  opinion),  passing  to  and  fro  from  the 
object,  is  worse  than  any  paradox,  as  being  a  plain  impossi- 
bility. I  shall,  therefore,  endeavor  to  make  plain  these 
points  :  1.  That  the  subject  wherein  color  and  image  are  inhe- 
rent is  not  the  object  or  thing  seen.  2.  That  there  is  nothing 
without  us  (really)  which  we  call  an  image  or  color.  3.  That 
the  said  image  or  color  is  but  an  apposition  unto  us  of  the 
motion,  agitation,  or  alteration,  which  the  object  worketh  in 
the  brain  or  spirits,  or  some  external  substance  of  the  head. 

1  Leviathan,  o.  1. 


CHAT.  m.  IMAGINATION  AND  MEMORY.  103 

4.  That,  as  in  vision,  so  also  in  conceptions  that  arise  from 
the  other  senses,  the  subject  of  their  inherence  is  not  the 
object,  but  the  sentient."1  And  this  he  goes  on  to  prove- 
Nothing  of  this  will  be  found  in  the  Discours  sur  la  Methode, 
the  only  work  of  Descartes  then  published ;  and,  even  if  we 
believe  Hobbes  to  have  interpolated  this  chapter  after  he  had 
read  the  Meditations,  he  has  stated  the  principle  so  clearly, 
and  illustrated  it  so  copiously,  that,  so  far  especially  as  Locke 
and  the  English  metaphysicians  took  it  up,  we  may  almost 
reckon  him  another  original  source. 

115.  The  second  chapter  of  the  Leviathan,  "On  Imagina- 
tion," begins   with  one  of  those  acute  and  original  j^   . 
observations  we  often  find  in  Hobbes :  "  That  when   tiou  and 
a  thing  lies  still,  unless  somewhat  else  stir  it,  it  will  n 
lie  still  for  ever,  is  a  truth  that  no  man  doubts  of.     But  that 
when  a  thing  is  in  motion,  it  will  eternally  be  in  motion, 
unless   somewhat  stay  it,  though  the  reason   be   the   same, 
namely,  that  nothing  can  change  itself,  is  not  so  easily  assented 
to.      For  men  measure,  not  only  other  men,   but  all  other 
things,  by  themselves ;  and,  because  they  find  themselves  sub- 
ject after  motion  to  pain  and  lassitude,  think  every  thing  else 
grows  weaiy  of  motion  and  seeks  repose  of  its  own  accord." 
The  physical  principle  had  lately  been  established ;  but  the 
reason  here  given  for  the  contrary  prejudice,  though  not  the 
sole  one,  is  ingenious,  and  even  true.     Imagination  he  defines 
to  be  "  conception  remaining,  and  by  little  and  little  decaying 
after  the  act  of  sense."2    This  he  afterwards  expressed  less 
happily,  "  the  gradual  decline  of  the  motion  in  which  sense 
consists;"  his  phraseology  becoming  more  and  more  tinctured 
with  the  materialism  which  he  affected  in  all  his  philosophy. 
Neither  definition  seems  at  all  applicable  to  the  imagination 
which  calls  up  long  past  perceptions.     "  This  decaying  sense, 
when  we  would  express  the  thing  itself  (I  mean  fancy  itself), 
we  call  imagination ;  but  when  we  would  express  the  decay, 
and  signify  that  the  sense  is  fading,  old,  and  past,  it  is  called 
memory.     So  that  imagination  and  memory  are  but  one  thing, 
which  for  divers  considerations  hath  divers  names.3      It  is, 
however,  evident  that  imagination  and  memory  are  distin- 
guished by  something  more  than  their  names."     The  second 
fundamental  error  of  Hobbes  in  his  metaphysics,  his  extrava- 
gant nominalism,  if  so  it  should  be  called,  appears  in  this 

i  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  2.  »  Id.,  c.  3.  »  Ley.,  c.  2. 


104  HOBBES.  PART  III 

sentence,  as  the  first,  his  materialism,  does  in  that  previously 
quoted. 

116.  The  phenomena  of  dreaming  and  the  phantasms  of 
waking  men  are  considered  in    this    chapter  with  the  keen 
observation  and  cool  reason  of  Hobbes.1     I  am  not  sure  that 
he  has  gone  more  profoundly  into  psychological  speculations 
in  the  Leviathan  than  in  the  earlier  treatise  ;   but  it  bears 
witness   more   frequently   to   what  had   probably   been   the 
growth  of  the  intervening  period,  —  a  proneness  to  political 
and  religious   allusion,   to   magnify  civil  and   to  depreciate 
ecclesiastical  power.      "  If   this  superstitious  fear  of  spirits 
were  taken  away,  and,  with  it,  prognostics  from  dreams,  false 
prophecies  and   many  other   things    depending   thereon,   by 
which  crafty  and  ambitious  persons  abuse  the  simple  people, 
men  would  be  much  more  fitted  than  they  are  for  civil  obedi- 
ence.    And  this  ought  to  be  the  work  of  the  schools  ;  but 
they  rather  nourish  such  doctrine."  2 

117.  The   fourth    chapter   on    Human   Nature,  and   the 

corresponding  third  chapter  of  the  Leviathan,  enti 
orTrtaHf    ti6^  "  On  Discourse,  or  the  Consequence  and  Train 
of  Imagination,"  are  among  the  most  remarkable  in 


Hobbes,  as  they  contain  the  elements  of  that  theory 
of  association,  which  was  slightly  touched  afterwards  by 
Locke,  but  developed  and  pushed  to  a  far  greater  extent 
by  Hartley.  "  The  cause,"  he  says,  "  of  the  coherence  or 
consequence  of  one  conception  to  another  is  their  first  cohe- 
rence or  consequence  at  that  time  when  they  are  produced  by 
sense  :  as  for  instance,  from  St.  Andrew  the  mind  runneth  to 
St.  Peter,  because  their  names  are  read  together  ;  from  St. 
Peter  to  a  stone,  from  the  same  cause  ;  from  stone  to  founda- 
tion, because  we  see  them  together  ;  and,  for  the  same  cause, 
from  foundation  to  church,  and  from  church  to  people,  and 
from  people  to  tumult  ;  and,  according  to  this  example,  the 
mind  may  run  almost  from  any  thing  to  any  thing."  8  This  he 
illustrates  in  the  Leviathan  by  the  well-known  anecdote  of  a 
question  suddenly  put  by  one,  in  conversation  about  the  death 
of  Charles  I.,  "  What  was  the  value  of  a  Roman  penny  ?  "  Of 
this  discourse,  as  he  calls  it,  in  a  larger  sense  of  the  word  than 
is  usual  with  the  logicians,  he  mentions  several  kinds  ;  and 
after  observing  that  ne  remembrance  of  succession  of  one 
thing  to  another,  that  is,  of  what  was  antecedent  and  what 

1  Hum  Nat.,  c.  3.  »  Id.  »  I<1,  c.  4,  §  2. 


SHAF.  m.  LEVIATHAN.  105 

consequent  and  what  concomitant,  is  called  an  experiment, 
adds,  that  "  to  have  had  many  experiments  is  what  we  call 
experience,  which  is  nothing  else  but  remembrance  of  what 
antecedents  have  been  followed  bj  what  consequents." 1 

118.  "Xo  man  can  have  a  conception  of  the  future,  for 
the  future  is  not  vet ;  but  of  our  conceptions  of  the 

past  we  make  a  future,  or  rather  call  past  future  ^Kpen 
relatively." 2  And  again :  "  The  present  only  has  a  being  in 
nature :  things  past  have  a  being  in  the  memory  only,  but 
things  to  come  have  no  being  at  all ;  the  future  being  but  a 
fiction  of  the  mind,  applying  the  sequels  of  actions  past  to  the 
actions  that  are  present,  which  with  most  certainty  is  done  by 
him  that  has  most  experience,  but  not  with  certainty  enough. 
And  though  it  be  called  prudence,  when  the  event  answereth 
our  expectation,  yet  in  its  own  nature  it  is  but  presumption."  3 
"  When  we  have  observed  antecedents  and  consequents  fre- 
quently associated,  we  take  one  for  a  sign  of  the  other ;  as 
clouds  foretell  rain,  and  rain  is  a  sign  there  have  been  clouds. 
But  signs  are  but  conjectural,  and  their  assurance  is  never  full 
or  evident.  For  though  a  man  have  always  seen  the  day  and 
night  to  follow  one  another  hitherto,  yet  can  he  not  thence 
conclude  they  shall  do  so,  or  that  they  have  done  so  eternally. 
Experience  concludeth  nothing  universally.  But  those  who 
have  most  experience  conjecture  best,  because  they  have  most 
signs  to  conjecture  by :  hence  old  men,  cteteris  paribus,  and 
men  of  quick  parts,  conjecture  better  than  the  young  or 
dull."  4  ki  But  experience  is  not  to  be  equalled  by  any  ad- 
vantage of  natural  and  extemporary  wit,  though  perhaps 
many  young  men  think  the  contrary."  There  is  a  presump- 
tion of  the  past  as  well  as  the  future  founded  on  experience, 
as  when,  from  having  often  seen  ashes  after  fire,  we  infer  from 
seeing  them  again  that  there  has  been  fire.  But  this  is  as 
conjectural  as  our  expectations  of  the  future.5 

119.  In  the  last  paragraph  of  the  chapter  in  the  Levia- 
than, he  adds,  what  is  a  very  leading  principle  in  _ 

/  Unconceiva- 

the  philosophy  of  Hobbes,  but  seems  to  have  no  bieness  of 
particular  relation  to  what  has  preceded :  "  What-  inflnitJr- 
soever  we  imagine  is  finite ;    therefore  there  is  no  idea  or 
conception  of  any  thing  we  call  infinite.     No  man  can  have 

i  Hum.  Xat.,  c.  4,  §  2.  «  Hum.  Nat.,  e.  4. 

»  Id.,  c.  4,  §  7.  •  Ley.,  c.  3. 

•Lev.,  c.  3. 


106  HOBBES.  PART  III. 

in  his  mind  an  image  of  infinite  magnitude,  nor  conceive 
infinite  swiftness,  infinite  time,  or  infinite  force,  or  infinite 
power.  When  we  say  any  thing  is  infinite,  we  signify  only 
that  we  are  not  able  to  conceive  the  ends  and  bounds  of  the 
things  named ;  having  no  conception  of  the  thing,  but  of  our 
own  inability.  And  therefore  the  name  of  God  is  used,  not 
to  make  us  conceive  him,  —  for  he  is  incomprehensible,  and 
his  greatness  and  power  are  inconceivable,  —  but  that  we 
may  honor  him.  Also  because  whatsoever,  as  I  said  before, 
we  conceive,  has  been  perceived  first  by  sense,  either  all  at 
once,  or  by  parts ;  a  man  can  have  no  thought,  representing 
any  thing,  not  subject  to  sense.  No  man,  therefore,  can  con- 
ceive any  thing,  but  he  must  conceive  it  in  some  place,  and 
indeed  with  some  determinate  magnitude,  and  which  may  be 
divided  into  parts,  nor  that  any  thing  is  all  in  this  place  and 
all  in  another  place  at  the  same  time,  nor  that  two  or  more 
things  can  be  in  one  and  the  same  place  at  once.  For  none 
of  these  things  ever  have,  or  can  be  incident  to  sense,  but  are 
absurd  speeches,  taken  upon  credit  without  any  signification 
at  all,  from  deceived  philosophers,  and  deceived  or  deceiving 
schoolmen."  This,  we  have  seen  in  the  last  section,  had  been 
already  discussed  with  Descartes.  The  paralogism  of  Hobbes 
consists  in  his  imposing  a  limited  sense  on  the  word  "  idea  "  or 
"  conception,"  and  assuming  that  what  cannot  be  conceived 
according  to  that  sense  has  no  signification  at  all. 

120.  The  next  chapter,  being  the  fifth  in  one  treatise, 
Origin  of  an(l  the  fourth  in  the  other,  may  be  reckoned,  per- 
language.  haps,  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  original  in  the 
writings  of  Hobbes.  It  relates  to  speech  and  language. 
"  The  invention  of  printing,"  he  begins  by  observing,  "  though 
ingenious,  compared  with  the  invention  of  letters,  is  no  great 
matter.  .  .  .  But  the  most  noble  and  profitable  invention  of  all 
others  was  that  of  speech,  consisting  of  names  or  appellations, 
and  their  connection,  whereby  men  register  their  thoughts, 
recall  them  when  they  are  past,  and  also  declare  them  one  to 
another  for  mutual  utility  and  conversation  ;  without  which 
there  had  been  amongst  men  neither  commonwealth  nor 
society,  nor  content  nor  peace,  no  more  than  among  lions, 
bears,  and  wolves.  The  first  author  of  speech  was  God  him- 
self, that  instructed  Adam  how  to  name  such  creatures  as 
he  presented  to  his  sight ;  for  the  Scripture  goeth  no  further 
in  this  matter.  But  this  was  sufficient  to  direct  him  to 


CHAP.  in.  LANGUAGE.  107 

add  more  names,  as  the  experience  and  use  of  the  creatures 
should  give  him  occasion,  and  to  join  them  in  such  manner 
by  degrees  as  to  make  himself  understood ;  and  so,  by  suc- 
cession of  time,  so  much  language  might  be  gotten  as  he  had 
found  use  for,  though  not  so  copious  as  an  orator  or  philoso- 
pher has  need  of." 1 

121.  This  i  account  of  the  original  of  language  appears  ii 
general  as  probable  as  it  is  succinct  and  clear.     But  ffig     llti 
the  assumption  that  there  could  have  been  no  society  cai  theory 
or  mutual  peace  among  mankind  without  language,   " 

the  ordinary  instrument  of  contract,  is  too  much  founded  upon 
his  own  political  speculations :  nor  is  it  proved  by  the  com- 
parison to  lions,  bears,  and  wolves,  even  if  the  analogy  could 
be  admitted ;  since  the  state  of  warfare  which  he  here  inti- 
mates to  be  natural  to  man,  does  not  commonly  subsist  in 
these  wild  animals  of  the  same  species.  Scevis  inter  se  con- 
venit  ursis,  is  an  old  remark.  But,  taking  mankind  with  as 
much  propensity  to  violence  towards  each  other  as  Hobbes 
could  suggest,  is  it  speech,  or  reason  and  the  sense  of  self- 
interest,  which  has  restrained  this  within  the  boundaries 
imposed  on  it  by  civil  society  ?  The  position  appears  to  be, 
that  man,  with  every  other  faculty  and  attribute  of  his  nature 
except  language,  could  never  have  lived  in  community  with 
his  fellows.  It  is  manifest,  that  the  mechanism  of  such  a 
community  would  have  been  very  imperfect.  But,  possessing 
his  rational  powers,  it  is  hard  to  see  why  he  might  not  have 
devised  signs  to  make  known  his  special  wants,  or  why  he 
might  not  have  attained  the  peculiar  prerogative  of  his 
species  and  foundation  of  society,  —  the  exchange  of  what  he 
liked  less  for  what  he  liked  better. 

122.  This  will  appear  more  evident,  and  the  exaggerated  no- 
tions of  the  school  of  Hobbes  as  to  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  language  to  the  mutual  relations  of  mankind  (/speech 
will  be  checked,  by  considering  what  was  not  so  well  exfgp- 

i  •     i  •  i      •        11  i     rated. 

understood  in  his  age  as  at  present, — the  intellectual 
capacities  of  those  who  are  born  deaf,  and  the  resources 
which  they  are  able  to  employ.  It  can  hardly  be  questioned, 
but  that  a  number  of  families  thrown  together  in  this  unfor- 
tunate situation,  without  other  intercourse,  could  by  the 
exercise  of  their  natural  reason,  as  well  as  the  domestic  and 
social  affections,  constitute  themselves  into  a  sort  of  common- 

1  Leviathan,  c.  4. 


108  HOBBES.  PART  HI. 

wealth,  at  least  as  regular  as  that  of  ants  and  bees.  But 
those  whom  we  have  known  to  want  the  use  of  speech  have 
also  wanted  the  sense  of  hearing,  and  have  thus  been  shut  out 
from  many  assistances  to  the  reasoning  faculties,  which  our 
hypothesis  need  not  exclude.  The  fair  supposition  is  that  of 
a  number  of  persons  merely  dumb ;  and,  although  they  would 
not  have  laws  or  learning,  it  does  not  seem  impossible  that 
they  might  maintain  at  least  a  patriarchal,  if  not  a  political, 
society  for  many  generations.  Upon  the  lowest  supposition, 
they  could  not  be  inferior  to  the  Chimpanzees,  who  are  said 
to  live  in  communities  in  the  forests  of  Angola. 

123.  The  succession  of  conceptions  in  the  mind  depending 
Use  of        wholly  on  that  which  they  had  one  to  another  when 
names-        produced  by  the  senses,  they  cannot  be  recalled  at 
our  choice  and  the  need  we  have  of  them,  "  but  as  it  chanceth 
us  to  hear  and  see  such  things  as  shall  bring  them  to  our 
mind.     Hence  brutes  are  unable  to  call  what  they  want  to 
mind,  and  often,  though  they  hide  food,  do  not  know  where 
to  find  it.     But  man  has  the  power  to  set  up  marks  or  sensi- 
ble objects,  and  remember  thereby  somewhat  past.     The  most 
eminent  of  these  are  names  or  articulate  sounds,  by  which  we 
recall   some    conception   of  things    to  which    we  give   those 
names ;  as  the  appellation  '  white '  bringeth  to  remembrance 
the  quality  of  such  objects  as  produce  that  color  or  conception 
in  us.     It  is  by  names  that  we  are  capable  of  science,  as  for 
instance  that  of  number ;  for  beasts  cannot  number  for  want 
of  words,  and  do  not  miss  one  or  two  out  of  their  young;  nor 
could  a  man,  without  repeating  orally  or  mentally  the  words 
of  number,  know  how  many  pieces  of  money  may  be  before 
him."1     We   have   here   another  assumption,  that  the  num- 
bering faculty  is  not  stronger  in  man  than  in  brutes,  and  also 
that  the  former  could  not  have  found  out  how  to   divide   a 
heap   of  coins   into   parcels   without   the    use    of  words   of 
number.     The  experiment  might  be  tried  with  a  deaf  and 
dumb  child. 

124.  Of  names,  some  are   proper,  and  some   common   to 
Names  um-  man7  or  universal,  there  being  nothing  in  the  world 
versai,  not    universal  but  names ;  for  the  things  named  are  every 

tles'  one  of  them  individual  and  singular.  ''  One  univer- 
sal name  is  imposed  on  many  things  for  their  similitude  in 
eome  quality  or  other  accidents ;  and  whereas  a  proper  name 

i  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  5. 


CHAP.  HI.  NAMES.  109 

bringeth  to  mind  one  thing  only,  universals  recall  any  one 
of  those  many." *  "  The  universality  of  one  name  to  many 
things  hath  been  the  cause  that  men  think  the  things  are 
themselves  universal,  and  so  seriously  contend,  that  besides 
Peter  and  John,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  men  that  are,  have 
been,  or  shall  be  in  the  world,  there  is  yet  something  else 
that  we  call  man,  viz.  man  in  general ;  deceiving  themselves 
by  taking  the  universal  or  general  appellation  for  the  thing 
it  signifieth.2  For  if  one  should  desire  the  painter  to  make 
him  the  picture  of  a  man,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  of 
a  man  in  general,  he  meaneth  no  more  but  that  the  painter 
should  choose  what  man  he  pleaseth  to  draw,  which  must 
needs  be  some  of  them  that  are,  or  have  been,  or  may  be, 
none  of  which  are  universal.  But  when  he  would  have  him 
to  draw  the  picture  of  the  king,  or  any  particular  person,  he 
limiteth  the  painter  to  that  one  person  he  chooseth.  It  is 
plain,  therefore,  that  there  is  nothing  universal  but  names, 
which  are  therefore  called  indefinite."3 

125.  "  By  this  imposition  of  names,  some  of  larger,  some 
of  stricter   signification,  we   turn   the   reckoning  of  Howim- 
the  consequences  of  things  imagined  in  the  mind  into   p°sed. 
a  reckoning  of  the  consequences  of  appellations."4     Hence 
he  thinks,  that,  though  a  man  born  deaf  and  dumb  might  by 
meditation  know  that  the  angles  of  one  triangle  are  equal 

1  Lev.,  c.  4.  other."  —  Cap.  2,  a.  9.     "Imagination" 

1  "  An  Universal,"  he  says  in  his  Logic,  and  ;'  memory  "  are  used  by  liobbes  al- 

"  is  not  a  name  of  many  things  collective-  most  as  synonymes. 
ly,  but  of  each  taken  separately  (sigillritim        3  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  5. 

rumptorum).     Man  is  not  the  name  of  the        4  It  may  deserve  to  be  remarked,  that 

human  species  in  general,  but  of  each  sin-  Hobbes  himself,   nominalist  as  he    was, 

gle  man,  Peter.  John,  and  the  rest,  sepa-  did  not  limit  reasoning  to  comparison  of 

rately.     Therefore  this  universal  name  is  propositions,   as  some  later  writers  have 

not  the  name  of  any  thing  existing  in  na-  been  inclined  to  do,  and  as,  in  his  objec- 

ture,  nor  of  any  idea  or  phantasm  formed  tions  to  Descartes,  he  might  seem  to  do 

in  the  mind,  but  always  of  some  word  or  himself.     This  may  be  inferred  from  the 

name.     Thus  when  an  animal,  or  a  stone,  sentence  quoted  in  the  text,  and  more  ex- 

or  a  ghost  (spectrum),  or  any  thing  else,  pressly,  though  not  quite  perspicuously, 

is  called  universal,  we  are  not  to  under-  from   a  passage  in  the  Computatio,  sive 

stand  that  any  man  or  stone  or  any  thing  Logica,  his  Latin  treatise  published  after 

else  was.  or  is,  or  can  be,  an  universal,  but  the  Leviathan.     "  Quomodo  au  tem  animo 

only   that  these  words  'animal,'  'stone.'  sine  verbis  tacita  cogitations  ratiocinaii'lo 

and  the  like,  are  universal  names,  that  is,  arldere  et  subtrahere  solemus  unoautalterc 

names  common  to  many  things,  and  the  exemplo  ostendendum  est.     Si  quis  ergo  « 

conceptions  corresponding  to  them  in  the  longinquo  aliquid  obscure  videat,  etsi  nulla 

mind  are  the  IIIKILTS  anil   phantasms  of  sint  imposita  vocabula.  habet  tamen  cjus 

single  animals  or  other  things.     And  there-  rei  ideam  eandem  propter  quam  impositU 

fore  we  do  not  need,  in  order  to  understand,  uunc  vocabulis  dicit  earn  reui  esse  corpus, 

what  is  meant  by  an  universal,  any  other  Postquam  autem  propius  accesserit,  vide- 

faculty  than  that  of  imagination,  by  which  ritque  eandem   ram  certo  quodam  modo 

we  remember  that  such  words  have  excited  nuuc  uno,  mine  alio  in  loco  esse,  habebit 

the  conception  in  oui  minds  sometimes  ejusdem  ideain  novam,  propter  quam  nun* 

of  one  particular  thing,  sometimes  of  an-  talem  rum  Miiinata.ni  vocal."  &c.  —  p.  2 


110  HOBBES.  PART  III. 

to  two  right  ones,  he  could  not,  on  seeing  another  triangle  of 
different  shape,  infer  the  same  without  a  similar  process. 
But  by  the  help  of  words,  after  having  observed  the  equality 
is  not  consequent  on  any  thing  peculiar  to  one  triangle,  but 
on  the  number  of  sides  and  angles  which  is  common  to  all, 
he  registers  his  discovery  in  a  proposition.  This  is  surely 
to  confound  the  antecedent  process  of  reasoning  with  what  he 
calls  the  registry,  which  follows  it.  The  instance,  however, 
is  not  happily  chosen ;  and  Hobbes  has  conceded  the  whole 
point  in  question,  by  admitting  that  the  truth  of  the  propo- 
sition could  be  observed,  which  cannot  require  the  use  of 
words.1  He  expresses  the  next  sentence  with  more  felicity. 
"  And  thus  the  consequence  found  in  one  particular  comes  to 
be  registered  and  remembered  as  an  universal  rule,  and  dis- 
charges our  mental  reckoning  of  time  and  place  ;  and  delivers 
us  from  all  labor  of  the  mind  saving  the  first,  and  makes  that 
which  was  found  true  here  and  now  to  be  true  in  all  times 
and  places."2 

126.  The  equivocal  use  of  names  makes  it  often  difficult 
The  subject  *°  recover  those  conceptions  for  which  they  were 
continued,  designed  "not  only  in  the  language  of  others, 
wherein  we  are  to  consider  the  drift  and  occasion  and  con- 
texture of  the  speech,  as  well  as  the  words  themselves, 
but  in  our  own  discourse,  which,  being  derived  from  the 
custom  and  common  use  of  speech,  representeth  unto  us  not 
our  own  conceptions.  It  is,  therefore,  a  great  ability  in  a 
man,  out  of  the  words,  contexture,  and  other  circumstances 
of  language,  to  deliver  himself  from  equivocation,  and  to 
find  out  the  true  meaning  of  what  is  said ;  and  this  is  it  we 
call  understanding."3  "If  speech  be  peculiar  to  man,  as  for 
aught  I  know  it  is,  then  is  understanding  peculiar  to  him  also; 
understanding  being  nothing  else  but  conception  caused  by 

1  The  demonstration  of  the  thirty-second  angles  admitted  of  any  elementary  demon- 
proposition  of  Euclid  could  leave  no  one  in  stration,  such  as  might  occur  in  the  in- 
doubt  whether  this  property   were  com-  fancy  of  geometry,  without  making  usr  of 
mon  to  all   triangles,  after  it  had  been  the  property  of  parallel  lines,  assume*!  in 
proved  in  a  single  instance.    It  is  said,  the  twelfth  axiom  of  Euclid,  the  ditticul- 
however,   to  be  recorded  by  an  ancient  ties  consequent  on  that  assumption  would 
writer,  that  this  discovery  was  first  made  readily    be   evaded.      See    the    Note   on 
as  to  equilateral,  afterwards  as  to  isosceles,  Euclid,  i.  29,  by  Playfair,  who  has  given  a 
and  lastly  as  toother  triangles.    Stewart's  demonstration  of  his  own,  but  one  which 
Philosophy  of  Human  Mind,  vol.  ii.  chap,  involves  the  idea  of  motion  rather  more 
iv.  sect.  2.    The  mode  of  proof  must  have  than  was  usual  with  the  Greeks  in  their 
been  different  from  that  of  Euclid.    And  elementary  propositions, 
this  might  possibly  lead  us  to  suspect  the  s  Lev. 
truth  of  the  tradition.     For  if  the  equality  »  limn.  Nat. 
of  the  angles  of  a  triangle  to  two  right 


CHAP.  IE.  NAMES.  Ill 

speech."1  This  definition  is  arbitrary,  and  not  conformable 
to  the  usual  sense.  "  True  and  false,"  he  observes  afterwards, 
u  are  attributes  of  speech,  not  of  things :  where  speech  is  not, 
there  is  neither  truth  nor  falsehood,  though  there  may  be 
error.  Hence,  as  truth  consists  in  the  right  ordering  of 
names  in  our  affirmations,  a  man  that  seeks  precise  truth 
hath  need  to  remember  what  every  word  he  uses  stands  for, 
and  place  it  accordingly.  Ip  geometry,  the  only  science 
lu'therto  known,  men  begin  by  definitions.  Arid  every  man 
who  aspires  to  true  knowledge  should  examine  the  definitions 
of  former  authors,  and  either  correct  them  or  make  them 
anew.  For  the  errors  of  definitions  multiply  themselves, 
according  as  the  reckoning  proceeds,  and  lead  men  into  absur- 
dities, which  at  last  they  see,  but  cannot  avoid  without 
reckoning  anew  from  the  beginning,  in  which  lies  the  foun- 
dation of  their  errors.  ...  In  the  right  definition  of  names 
lies  the  first  use  of  speech,  which  is  the  acquisition  of  science. 
And  in  wrong  or  no  definitions  lies  the  first  abuse  from  which 
proceed  all  false  and  senseless  tenets,  which  make  those  men 
that  take  their  instruction  from  the  authority  of  books,  and 
not  from  their  own  meditation,  to  be  as  much  below  the 
condition  of  ignorant  men,  as  men  endued  with  true  science 
are  above  it.  For,  between  true  science  and  erroneous  doc- 
trine, ignorance  is  in  the  middle.  Words  are  wise  men's 
counters,  —  they  do  but  reckon  by  them ;  but  they  are  the 
money  of  fools."2 

127.  "The  names  of  such  things  as  affect  us,  that  is, 
which  please  and  displease  us,  because  all  men  be  Names  &{. 
not  alike  affected  with  the  same  thing,  nor  the  same  fe 
man  at  all  times,  are,  in  the  common  discourse  of  " 
men,  of  inconstant  signification.  For  seeing  all  names  are 
imposed  to  signify  our  conceptions,  and  all  our  affections 
are  but  conceptions,  when  we  conceive  the  same  thoughts 
differently,  we  can  hardly  avoid  different  naming  of  them. 
For  though  the  nature  of  that  we  conceive  be  the  same, 
yet  the  diversity  of  our  reception  of  it,  in  respect  of  different 
constitutions  of  body  and  prejudices  of  opinion,  gives  every 
thing  a  tincture  of  our  different  passions.  And  therefore,  in 
reasoning,  a  man  must  take  heed  of  words,  which,  besides  the 
signification  of  what  we  imagine  of  their  nature,  have  a 
signification  also  of  the  nature,  disposition,  and  interest  of  the 

»LBT  » Id. 


112  HOBBES.  PART  HI. 

speaker ;  such  as  are  the  names  of  virtues  and  vices :  for  one 
man  calleth  wisdom  what  another  calleth  fear,  and  one  cruelty 
Avhat  another  justice ;  one  prodigality  what  another  magna- 
nimity, and  one  gravity  what  another  stupidity,  &c.  And 
therefore  such  names  can  never  be  true  grounds  of  any  ratio- 
cination. No  more  can  metaphors  and  tropes  of  speech  ;  but 
these  are  less  dangerous  because  they  profess  their  incon- 
stancy, which  the  other  do  not."1  Thus  ends  this  chapter  of 
the  Leviathan,  which,  with  the  corresponding  one  in  the 
treatise  on.  Human  Nature,  are,  notwithstanding  what  appear 
to  me  some  erroneous  principles,  as  full,  perhaps,  of  deep  and 
original  thoughts  as  any  other  pages  of  equal  length  on 
the  art  of  reasoning,  and  philosophy  of  language.  Many  have 
borrowed  from  Hobbes  without  naming  him ;  and,  in  fact, 
he  is  the  founder  of  the  Nominalist  school  in  England.  He 
may  probably  have  conversed  with  Bacon  on  these  subjects : 
we  see  much  of  that  master's  style  of  illustration.  But  as 
Bacon  was  sometimes  too  excursive  to  sift  particulars,  so 
Hobbes  has  sometimes  wanted  a  comprehensive  view. 

128.  "There  are,"  to  proceed  with  Hobbes,  "two  kinds  of 
knowledge :  the  one,  sense,  or  knowledge  original, 

Knowledge.  '  ' 

and  remembrance  of  the  same;  the  other,  science, 
or  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  propositions,  derived  from  under- 
standing. Both  are  but  experience,  —  one  of  things  from 
without,  the  other  from  the  proper  use  of  words  in  language ; 
and,  experience  being  but  remembrance,  all  knowledge  is 
remembrance.  Knowledge  implies  two  things,  truth  and 
evidence :  the  latter  is  the  concomitance  of  a  man's  concep- 
tion with  the  words  that  signify  such  conception  in  the  act  of 
ratiocination."  If  a  man  does  not  annex  a  meaning  to  his 
words,  his  conclusions  are  not  evident  to  him.  "  Evidence  is 
to  truth  as  the  sap  to  the  tree,  which,  so  far  as  it  creepeth 
along  with  the  body  and  branches,  keepeth  them  alive :  when 
it  forsaketh  them,  they  die ;  for  this  evidence,  which  is 
meaning  with  our  words,  is  the  life  of  truth."  "  Science 
is  evidence  of  truth,  from  some  beginning  or  principle  of 
sense.  The  first  principle  of  knowledge  is,  that  we  have  such 
and  such  conceptions ;  the  second,  that  we  have  thus  and 
thus  named  the  things  whereof  they  are  conceptions ;  the 
third  is,  that  we  have  joined  those  names  in  such  manner  as 
to  make  true  propositions ;  the  fourth  and  last  is,  that  we  have 

>  Ley. 


CHAP. 


REASONING. 


113 


Reasoning. 


joined  these  propositions  in  such  manner  as  they  be   con- 
cluding, and  the  truth  of  the  conclusion  said  to  be  known."1 

129.  Reasoning  is  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  parcels. 
"  In  whatever  matter  there  is  room  for  addition  and 
subtraction,  there  is  room  for  reason ;  and  where 
these  have  no  place,  then  reason  has  nothing  at  all  to  do."2 
This  is  neither  as  perspicuously  expressed,  nor  as  satisfacto- 
rily illustrated,  as  is  usual  with  Hobbes ;  but  it  is-  true  that 
all  syllogistic  reasoning  is  dependent  upon  quantity  alone,  and 
consequently  upon  that  which  is  capable  of  addition  and  sub- 
traction. This  seems  not  to  have  been  clearly  perceived 
by  some  writers  of  the  old  Aristotelian  school,  or  perhaps  by 
some  others,  who.  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  have  a  notion  that 
the  relation  of  a  genus  to  a  species,  or  a  predicate  to  its  sub- 
ject, considered  merely  as  to  syllogism  or  deductive  reasoning, 
is  something  different  from  that  of  a  whole  to  its  parts  ;  which 
would  deprive  that  logic  of  its  chief  boast,  its  axiomatic  evi- 
dence. But,  as  this  would  appear  too  dry  to  some  readers,  I 
shall  pursue  it  farther  in  a  note.3 


i  Hum.  Xat..  c.  6. 

1  Lev.,  e.  5- 

»  Dugald  Stewart  (Elements  of  Philoso- 
phy, &c.,  vol.  ii.  ch.  ii.  sect.  2)  has  treated 
this  theory  of  Hobbes  on  reasoning,  aa 
well  as  that  of  Condillac,  which  seems 
much  the  same,  with  great  scorn,  as  "  too 
puerile  to  admit  of  («'.  e.,  require)  refuta- 
tion." I  do  not  myself  think  the  lan- 
guage of  Hobbes,  either  here,  or  as  quoted 
by  Stewart  from  his  Latin  treatise  on  Logic, 
so  perspicuous  as  usual.  But  I  cannot 
help  being  of  opinion,  that  he  is  substan- 
tially right.  For  surely,  when  we  assert 
that  A  is  B,  we  assert  that  all  things  which 
fall  under  the  class  B,  taken  collectively, 
comprehend  A  :  or  that  B  =  A  -(-  X ;  B 
being  here  put.  it  is  to  be  observed,  not 
for  the  rfs  predicate  itself,  but  for  the 
concrete  de  qwibtts  preedicandum  est.  I 
mention  this,  because  this  elliptical  use  of 
the  word  ''  predicate  "  seems  to  have  occa- 
sioned some  confusion  hi  writers  on  logic. 
The  predicate,  strictly  taken,  being  an 
attribute  or  quality,  cannot  be  said  to 
include  or  contain  the  subjtct.  But  to  re- 
turn, when  we  say  B=A-)-X,  or  B— X=A, 
since  we  do  not  compare,  in  such  a  propo- 
sition as  is  here  supposed,  A  with  X.  we 
only  mean  that  A  =  A.  or  that  a  certain 
part  of  B  is  the  same  as  it.=elf.  Again,  in 
a  particular  affirmative.  Some  A  is  B.  we 
assert  that  part  of  A.  or  A — Y,  is  contained 
in  B,  or  that  B  may  be  expressed  by 
A— Y-j-X.  So  also  when  we  say,  Some  A 

VOL.  ui.  8 


it  not  B,  we  equally  divide  the  class  or 
genus  B  into  A  —  Y  and  X,  or  assert  that 
B  =  A — Y+X :  but.  hi  this  case,  the  sub- 
ject is  no  longer  A — Y,  but  the  remainder, 
or  other  part  of  A,  namely.  Y ;  and  this  is 
not  found  in  either  term  of  the  predicate. 
Finally,  hi  the  universal  negative,  No  A 
( neither  A— Y  nor  Y)  is  B.  the  A— Y  of  the 
predicate  vanishes  or  has  no  value,  and  B 
becomes  equal  to  X,  which  is  incapable  of 
measurement  with  A.  and  consequently 
with  either  A  —  Y  or  Y,  which  make  up  A. 
Now.  if  we  combine  this  with  another  pro- 
position, in  order  to  form  a  syllogism,  and 
say  that  C  is  A.  we  find,  as  before,  that 
A  =  C  +  Z :  and,  substituting  this  value 
of  A  in  the  former  proposition,  it  appears 
that  B  =  C4-Z-(-X.  Then,  in  the  con- 
clusion, we  have,  C  is  B :  that  is,  C  is  & 
partof  C-J-Z-f-X.  And  the  same  hi  the 
three  other  cases  or  moods  of  the  figure. 
This  seems  to  be.  hi  plainer  terms,  what 
Hobbes  means  by  addition  or  subtrac- 
tion of  parcels,  and  what  Condillac  means 
by  rather  a  lax  expression,  that  equa 
tibns  and  propositions  are  at  bottom  the 
same :  or,  as  he  phrases  it  better,  ••  1'pvi- 
dence  de  raison  consist*  uniquement  dans 
ridentite."  If  we  add  to  this,  as  he 
probably  intended,  non-identity,  as  the 
condition  of  all  negative  conclusion?,  it 
seems  to  be  no  more  than  is  necessarily 
involved  in  the  fundamental  principle  of 
syllogism,  the  dictum  de  omni  et  nullo: 
which  may  be  thus  reduced  to  its  shortest 


114 


HOBBES. 


PART  III. 


130.  A  man  may  reckon  without  the  use  of  words  in  parti- 
Faise  rea-     cular  things,  as  in  conjecturing  from  the  sight  of  any 
thing  what  is  likely  to  follow;    and,  if  he  reckons 


soniug. 


terms :  "  Whatever  can  be  divided  into 
parts,  includes  all  those  parts,  and  nothing 
else."  This  is  not  limited  to  mathematical 
quantity,  but  includes  every  thing  which 
admits  of  more  and  less.  Hobbes  has  a 
good  passage  in  his  Logic  on  this :  "  Non 
putandum  est  computation!,  id  est,  ratio- 
cination] in  numeris  tautum  locum  esse, 
tanquam  homo  a  cseteris  animautibus, 
(nod  censuisse  narratur  Pythagoras,  sola 
numerandi  facultate  distinctus  esset ;  mini 
et  magnitude  magnitudini,  corpus  corpori, 
mot  us  motui,  tempus  tempori,  gradus 
qualitatis  gradui,  actio  actioni,  conceptus 
conceptui,  proportio  proportions,  oratio 
oration!,  noinen  nomini,  in  quibus  oiune 
philosophiae  genus  contmetur,  adjici  adi- 
mique  potest." 

But  it  does  not  follow  by  any  means, 
that  we  should  assent  to  the  strange  pas- 
sages quoted  by  Stewart  from  Condillac 
and  Diderot,  which  reduce  all  knowledge 
to  identical  propositions.  Even  in  geo- 
metry, where  the  objects  are  strictly  mag- 
nitudes, the  countless  variety  in  which 
their  relations  may  be  exhibited  consti- 
tutes the  riches  of  that  inexhaustible 
science  ;  and,  in  moral  or  physical  propo- 
sitions, the  relation  of  quantity  between 
the  subject  and  predicate,  as  concretes, 
which  enables  them  to  be  compared, 
though  it  is  the  sole  foundation  of  all 
general  deductive  reasoning,  or  syllogism, 
ha,s  nothing  to  do  with  the  other  pro- 
perties or  relations,  of  which  we  obtain 
a  knowledge  by  means  of  that  comparison. 
1  u  mathematical  recoiling,  we  inter  as  to 
quantity  through  the  medium  of  quan- 
tity ;  in  other  reasoning,  we  use  the  same 
medium,  but  our  inference  is  as  to  truths 
which  do  not  lie  within  that  category. 
Thus  in  the  hackneyed  instance,  All  men 
are  mortal, —  that  is,  mortal  creatures  in- 
clude men  and  something  more,  —  it  isj 
absurd  to  assert,  that  we  only  know  that 
men  are  men.  It  is  true  that  our  know- 
ledge of  the  truth  of  the  proposition  comes 
by  the  help  of  this  comparison  of  men 
in  the  subject  with  men  as  implied  in 
the  predicate  ;  but  the  very  nature  of  the 
proposition  discovers  a  constant  relation 
between  the  individuals  of  the  human 
species  and  that  mortality  which  is  pre- 
dicated of  them  along  with  others ;  and  it 
is  in  this,  not  in  an  identical  equation,  as 
Diderot  seems  to  have  thought,  that  our 
knowledge  consists. 

The  remarks  of  Stewart's  friend,  M. 
Prevost  of  Geneva,  on  the  principle  of 
identity  as  the  basis  of  mathematical 
science,  and  which  the  former  has  can- 


didly subjoined  to  his  own  volume,  appear 
to  me  very  satisfactory.  Stewart  comes  to 
admit  that  the  dispute  U  nearly  verbal : 
but  we  cannot  say  that  he  originally 
treated  it  as  such ;  and  the  principle  iteeu, 
both  as  applied  to  geometry  and  to  lo^ic, 
is,  in  my  opinion,  of  some  importance 
to  the  clearness  of  our  conceptions  as  to 
those  sciences.  It  may  be  added,  that 
Stewart's  objection  to  the  principle  of 
identity  as  the  basis  of  geometrical  rea- 
soning is  less  forcible  in  its  application  to 
syllogism.  He  is  willing  to  admit  that 
magnitudes  capable  of  coincidence  by  im- 
mediate superposition  may  be  reckoned 
identical,  but  scruples  to  apply  such  a 
word  to  those  which  are  dissimilar  in 
figure,  as  the  rectangles  of  the  means 
and  extremes  of  four  proportional  lines. 
Neither  one  nor  the  other  are,  in  fact 
identical  as  real  quantities,  the  forme 
being  necessarily  conceived  to  differ  froi 
each  other  by  position  in  space,  as  much 
as  the  latter;  so  that  the  expression  lie 
quotes  from  Aristotle,  ev  rovroif  tj  iaoTtjf 
i'v6rr/£,  or  any  similar  one  of  modern 
mathematicians,  can  only  refer  to  the  ab- 
stract magnitude  of  their  areas,  which 
being  divisible  into  the  same  number  of 
equal  parts,  they  are  called  the  same. 
And  there  seems  no  real  difference  in  this 
respect  between  two  circles  of  equal  radii 
and  two  such  rectangles  as  are  supposed 
above;  the  identity  of  their  magnitudes 
being  a  distinct  truth,  independent  of 
any  consideration  either  of  their  figure  or 
their  position.  But,  however  this  may  U>, 
the  identity  of  the  subject  with  part  of 
the  predicate  in  an  affirmative  pro; 
is  never  fictitious,  but  real.  It  means 
that  the  persons  or  things  in  the  one  are 
strictly  the  same  beings  with  the  persons 
or  things  to  which  they  are  compared  in 
the  other,  though,  through  some  differ 
ence  of  relations,  or  other  circumstance, 
they  are  expressed  in  different  language. 
It  is  needless  to  give  examples,  us  alt  thi  ,-e 
who  can  read  this  note  at  all  will  know 
how  to  find  them. 

I  will  here  take  the  liberty  to  remark, 
though  not  closely  connected  with  the 
present  subject,  that  Archbishop  \Vhately 
is  not  quite  right  in  saying  (Klements  of 
Lo^ic.  p.  46).  that,  in  affirmative  propo 
sitions,  the  predicate  is  nertr  distributed. 
Besides  the  numerous  instances  where 
this  is,  in  point  of  fact,  the  case,  all  which 
he  justly  excludes,  there  are  many  in 
which  if  is  involved  in  the  very  form  of 
the  proposition.  Such  are  those  which 


CHAP.  HI. 


FALSE  REASONING. 


115 


•wrong,  it  is  error.     But  in  reasoning  on  general  words,  to  fall 
on  a  false  inference  is  not  error,  though  often  so  called,  but 


assert  identity  or  equality,  and  such  are 
all  definitions.  Of  the  first  sort  are  all 
the  theorems  in  geometry,  asserting  an 
equality  of  magnitudes  or  ratios,  in  which 
the  subject  and  predicate  may  always 
change  places.  It  is  true,  that,  in  the  in- 
stance given  in  the  work  quoted, —  that 
equilateral  triangles  are  equiangular, —  th& 
converse  requires  a  separate  proof,  and  so 
in  many  similar  cases.  But.  in  these,  the 
predicate  is  not  distributed  by  the  form  of 
the  proposition:  they  assert  no  equality 
of  magnitude. 

The  position,  that,  where  such  equality 
is  affirmed,  the  predicate  is  not  logically 
distributed,  would  lead  to  the  consequence, 
that  it  can  only  be  convened  into  a  par- 
ticular affirmation.  Thus,  after  proving 
that  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  in 
all  right-angled  triangles  is  equal  to  those 
of  the  sides,  we  could  only  infer  that  the 
squares  of  the  sides  are  sometimes  equal 
to  that  of  the  hypothenuse ;  which  could 
not  be  maintained  without  rendering  the 
rules  of  logic  ridiculous.  The  most  gene- 
ral mode  of  considering  the  question,  is 
to  say,  as  we  have  done  above,  that,  in  an 
universal  affirmative,  the  predicate  B  (that 
is,  the  class  of  which  B  is  predicated)  is 
composed  of  A,  the  subject,  and  X,  an  un- 
known remainder.  But  if,  by  the  very 
nature  of  the  proposition,  we  perceive  that 
X  is  nothing,  or  has  no  value,  it  is  plain 
that  the  subject  measures  the  entire  pre- 
dicate :  and,  vice  versa,  the  predicate  mea- 
sures the  subject :  in  other  words,  each  is 
taken  universally,  or  distributed. 

[A  critic  upon  the  first  edition  has  ob- 
served, that  "  nothing  is  clearer  than  that 
in  these  propositions  the  predicate  is  not 
necessarily  distributed ;  "  and  even  hints 
a  doubt  whether  I  understood  the  terms 
rightly.  Edinburgh  Review,  vol.  Ixxxil. 
p.  219.  This  suspicion  of  my  ignorance 
as  to  the  meaning  of  the  two  commonest 
word?  in  logic  I  need  not  probably  repel : 
as  to  the  peremptory  assertion  of  this 
critic,  without  any  proof  beyond  his  own 
authority,  that,  in  propositions  denoting 
equality  of  magnitude,  the  predicate  is 
not  necessarily  distributed,  if  his  own  re- 
flections do  not  convince  him.  I  can  only 
refer  him  to  Aristotle's  words :  ev  rovrolf 
I)  iaoTTjf  evoTrif ;  and  I  presume  he  does 
not  doubt,  that,  in  identical  propositions 
of  the  form.  A  est  A,  the  distribution  of 
the  predicate,  or  the  convertibility  of  the 
proposition,  which  is  the  same  thing,  is 
manifest.— 1842.] 

[Reid  observes,  in  his  Brief  Account  of 
IristotVs  Logic,  that  "  the  doctrine  of  the 


conversion  of  propositions  is  not  so  com- 
plete as  it  appears.  How,  for  instance, 
shall  we  convert  this  proposition,  God  is 
omniscient  1  '•  Sir  \V.  Hamilton,  who,  as 
editor  of  Reid,  undertakes  the  defence 
against  him  of  ever}'  thing  in  the  estab- 
lished logic,  rather  curiously  answers,  in 
his  notes  on  this  passage :  "  By  saying  An, 
or  The.  omniscient  is  God."  (Hamilton's 
edition  of  Reid,  p.  697.)  The  rule  re- 
quires, "  An  omniscient,"  a  conversion 
into  the  particular ;  but,  as  this  would  be 
shocking,  he  substitutes,  as  an  alternative, 
the,  which  is  to  take  generally  or  distribute 
the  predicate  in  the  first  proposition ;  and 
to  this  the  nature  of  the  proposition  leads 
us,  as  it  does  in  innumerable  cases.  How- 
ever, as  logical  writers,  especially  the 
recent,  commonly  exclude  all  considera- 
tion of  the  subject-matter  of  propositions, 
it  may  be  correct  to  say.  with  Archbishop 
AVnately,  that,  as  a  rule  of  syllogism,  the 
predicate  is  not  distributed.  Aristotle 
himself,  though  he  lays  this  down  as  a 
formal  rule,  does  not  hesitate  to  say, 
that,  where  the  predicate  is  the  proprium 
(I6tov)  or  characteristic  of  the  subject, 
and  of  nothing  else,  it  may  be  reciprocated 
(avrLKaTTiyopEiTai)  with  the  subject ;  as, 
If  it  is  the  proprium  of  a  man  to  be 
capable  of  learning  grammar,  all  men 
are  capable  of  being  grammarians,  and  all 
who  are  such  are  men.  Topica,  i.  4.  And 
in  the  well-known  passage  upon  inductive 
syllogism,  Analyt.  Prior.,  1.  ii.  c.  23,  he 
shows  the  minor  premise  to  be  convertible 
into  an  universal  affirmative,  by  whirh 
alone  such  a  syllogism  differs  from  the 
logical  form  called  Darapti.  But,  as  Aris- 
totle notoriously  considers  syllogisms  in 
their  matter  as  well  as  form,  the  modern 
writers,  who  confine  themselves  to  the 
latter,  are  not  concluded  by  his  authority. 
Their  theory,  which  not  o'nly  reduces  all 
logic  to  syllogism,  but  all  syllogism  to  a 
very  few  rules  of  form,  so  that  we  may 
learn  every  thing  that  can  be  learned  in 
this  art  through  the  letters  A,  B,  and  C, 
without  any  examples  at  all,  appears  to 
render  it  more  jejune  and  unprofitable 
than  ever.  The  comparison  which  some 
have  made  of  this  literal  logic  with  algebra 
is  surely  not  to  the  purpose  ;  for  we  cannot 
move  a  step  in  algebra  without  known  as 
well  as  unknown  quantities.  As  soon 
as  we  substitute  real  examples,  we  must 
perceive  that  the  predicate  w  sometimes 
distributed  in  affirmative  propositions  by 
the  sense  of  the  propositions  themselves, 
and  without  any  extrinsic  proof;  which  it 
all  that  I  meant.— 1817.) 


116  HOBBES.  PART  III 

absurdity.1  "  If  a  man  should  talk  to  me  of  a  round  quad- 
rangle, or  accidents  of  bread  in  cheese,  or  immaterial  sub- 
stances, or  of  a  free  subject,  a  free  will,  or  any  free,  but  free 
from  being  hindered  by  opposition,  I  should  not  say  he  were 
in  error,  but  that  his  words  were  without  meaning,  that  is  to 
say,  absurd."  Some  of  these  propositions,  it  will  occur,  are 
intelligible  in  a  reasonable  sense,  and  not  contradictory,  except 
by  means  of  an  arbitrary  definition  which  he  who  employs 
them  does  not  admit.  It  may  be  observed  here,  as  we  have 
done  before,  that  Hobbes  does  not  confine  reckoning,  or  rea- 
soning, to  universals,  or  even  to  words. 

131.  Man  has  the  exclusive  privilege  of  forming  general 
its  fre-  theorems.  But  this  privilege  is  allayed  by  another, 
queney.  tjjat  ^  jjy  fae  privilege  of  absurdity,  to  which  no 
living  creature  is  subject,  but  man  only.  And  of  men  those 
are  of  all  most  subject  to  it,  that  profess  philosophy.  .  .  . 
For  there  is  not  one  that  begins  his  ratiocination  from  the 
definitions  or  explications  of  the  names  they  are  to  use,  which 
is  a  method  used  only  in  geometry,  whose  conclusions  have 
thereby  been  made  indisputable.  He  then  enumerates  seven 
causes  of  absurd  conclusions  ;  the  first  of  which  is  the  want  of 
definitions,  the  others  are  erroneous  imposition  of  names.  If 
we  can  avoid  these  errors,  it  is  not  easy  to  fall  into  absurdity 
(by  which  he  of  course  only  means  any  wrong  conclusion), 
except  perhaps  by  the  length  of  a  reasoning.  "  For  all  men," 
he  says,  "  by  nature  reason  alike,  and  well,  when  they  have 
good  principles.  Hence  it  appears  that  reason  is  not  as  sense 
and  memory  born  with  us,  nor  gotten  by  experience  only,  as 
prudence  is,  but  attained  by  industry,  in  apt  imposing  of 
names,  and  in  getting  a  good  and  orderly  method  of  pro- 
ceeding from  the  elements  to  assertions,  and  so  to  syllogisms. 
Children  are  not  endued  with  reason  at  all  till  they  have 
attained  the  use  of  speech,  but  are  called  reasonable  creatures. 
for  the  possibility  of  having  the  use  of  reason  hereafter.  And 
reasoning  serves  the  generality  of  mankind  very  little,  though 
with  their  natural  prudence  without  science  they  are  in  better 
condition  than  those  who  reason  ill  themselves,  or  trust  those 
who  have  done  so."2  It  has  been  observed  by  Buhle,  that 
Hobbes  had  more  respect  for  the  Aristotelian  forms  of  logic 
thai  his  master  Bacon.  He  has  in  fact  written  a  short  trea- 
tise, in  his  Elementa  Philosophise,  on  the  subject ;  observing, 

i  Lov  ,  c.  6,  *  Id. 


CHAP.  m.  BELIEF.  117 

however,  therein,  that  a  true  logic  will  he  sooner  learned  by 
attending  to  geometrical  demonstrations  than  by  drudging  over 
the  rules  of  syllogism,  as  children  learn  to  walk  not  by  pre- 
cept but  by  habit.1 

132.  ••  Xo  discourse  whatever,"  he  says  truly  in  the  seventh 
chapter   of  the   Leviathan,   "  can   end  in  absolute  Knowledge 
knowledge  of  fact,  past  or  to  come.     For,  as  to  the  £££? 
knowledge  of  fact,  it  is  originally  sense ;  and,  ever  from  rea- 
after,  memory.     And  for  the  knowledge   of  conse-  K 
quence,  which  I  have  said  before  is  called  science,  it  is  not 
absolute,  but  conditional.     No  man  can  know   by  discourse 
that  this  or  that  is,  has  been,  or  will  be,  which  is  to  know 
absolutely  ;  but  only  that  if  this  is,  that  is  ;  if  this  has  been, 
that  has  'been ;   if  this  shall  be,  that  shall  be ;   which  is  to 
know  conditionally,  and  that  not  the  consequence  of  one  thing 
to  another,  but  of  one  name  of  a  thing  to  another  name  of  the 
same  thing.     And  therefore  when  the  discourse  is  put  into 
speech,  and  begins  with  the  definitions  of  words,  and  proceeds 
by  connection  of  the  same  into  general  affirmations,  and  of 
those  again  into  syllogisms,  the  end  or  last  sum  is  called  the 
conclusion,  and  the  thought  of  the  mind  by  it  signified  is  that 
conditional  knowledge  of  the  consequence  of  words  which  is 
commonly  called  science.     But   if  the  first  ground  of  such 
discourse  be  not  definitions,  or,  if  definitions,  be  not  rightly 
joined  together  in  syllogisms,  then  the  end  or  conclusion  is 
again  opinion,  namely,  of  the  truth  of  somewhat  said,  though 
sometimes  in  absurd  and  senseless  words,  without  possibility 
of  being  understood."2 

133.  "Belief,  which  is  the  admitting  of  propositions  upon 
trust,  in  many  cases  is  no  less  free  from  doubt  than   ^^ 
perfect  and  manifest  knowledge  ;  for  as  there  is  no- 
thing whereof  there  is  not  some  cause,  so,  when  there  is  doubt 
there  must  be  some  cause  thereof  conceived.     Now,  there  be 
many  things  which  we  receive  from  the  report  of  others,  of 
which  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  cause  of  doubt ;    for 

1  "  Citius  nralto  Teram  logicam  discunt  nude  Tim  suam  habeat  omnis  argnmen- 

qui  inathematicornm  demonstrationibos,  tatio  legitima,  tantum  diximus :  et  omnia 

qu.im  qui    logicorum    syllogizandi    prse-  accumulate  qua;  dici  possunt.  a-que  super- 

ceptis  legendis  tempus  conterunt,  hand  fluum  esset  ac  si  qnis  nt  dixi  puerulo  ad 

aliter  quam  parruli  pueri  gressnm  fonnare  gradiendnm  praecepta  dare  velit ;   acqui- 

discuntnonpraeceptisgedesepegradiendo.''  ritur  enim  ratiocinandi  ars  non  praeceptis 

—  C.  if.  p.  30.    ''Atque  hsec  sufficiunt"  wd  usu  et  lectione  eornm   librorum  in 

(he  save  afterwards)  •'  de  svUogismo,  qui  quibus  omnia  seven*  demonstrationibu* 

est  tanquam  gressns  philosophise :  nam  et  transiguntur." —  C.  T.  p.  35. 

quantum    necesse  est  ad  cognoecendum  *  Ley.,  c.  7. 


118  HOBBES.  PART  in. 

what  can  be  opposed  against  the  consent  of  all  men,  in  things 
they  can  know  and  have  no  cause  to  report  otherwise  than 
they  are,  such  as  is  great  part  of  our  histories,  unless  a  man 
would  say  that  all  the  world  had  conspired  to  deceive  him?"1 
Whatever  we  believe  on  the  authority  of  the  speaker,  he  is 
the  object  of  our  faith.  Consequently,  when  we  believe  that 
the  Scriptures  are  the  word  •  of  God,  having  no  immediate 
revelation  from  God  himself,  our  belief,  faith,  and  trust  is 
in  the  church,  whose  word  we  take  and  acquiesce  therein. 
Hence  all  we  believe  on  the  authority  of  men,  whether  they 
be  sent  from  God  or  not,  is  faith  in  men  only.2  We  have  no 
certain  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  Scripture,  but  trust  the  holy 
men  of  God's  church  succeeding  one  another  from  the  time  of 
those  who  saw  the  wondrous  works  of  God  Almighty  in  the 
flesh.  And,  as  we  believe  the  Scriptures  to  be  the  word  of 
God  on  the  authority  of  the  church,  the  interpretation  of  the 
Scripture  in  case  of  controversy  ought  to  be  trusted  to  the 
church  rather  than  private  opinion.8 

134.  The  ninth  chapter  of  the  Leviathan  contains  a  synop- 
Chart  of      tical  chart  of  human  science,  or  "  knowledge  of  conse- 
ewence.       quences,"  also  called  philosophy.     He  divides  it  into 
natural  and  civil,  the  former  into  consequences  from  accidents 
common  to  all  bodies,  quantity  and  motion,  and  those  from 
qualities  otherwise  called  physics.     The  first  includes  astrono- 
my, mechanics,  architecture,  as  well  as  mathematics.     The 
second  he  distinguishes  into  consequences  from  qualities   of 
bodies  transient,  or  meteorology,  and  from  those   of  bodies 
permanent,  such  as  the  stars,  the  atmosphere,  or  terrestrial 
bodies.     The  last  are  divided  again  into  those  without  sense, 
and  those  with  sense ;  and  these,  into  animals  and  men.     In 
the  consequences  from  the  qualities  of  animals  generally,  he 
reckons  optics  and  music ;  in  those  from  men,  we  find  ethics, 
poetry,  rhetoric,  and  logic.     These  altogether  constitute  the 
first  great  head  of  natural  philosophy.     In   the   second,   or 
civil  philosophy,  he  includes  nothing  but  the  rights  and  duties 
of  sovereigns  and  their  subjects.     This  chart  of  human  know- 
ledge is  one  of  the  worst  that  has  been  propounded,  and  falls 
much  below  that  of  Bacon.4 

135.  This  is  the  substance  of  the  philosophy  of  Hobbes, 
BO  far  as  it  relates  to  the  intellectual  faculties,  and  especially 

1  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  6.  *  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  11. 

»  Ley.,  o.  7.  «  I*T.,  c.  9. 


CHAP.  HI.       GOOD  AND  EVIL,  RELATIVE  TERMS.  119 

to  that  of  reasoning.  In  the  seventh  and  two  following 
chapters  of  the  treatise  on  Human  Nature,  in  the  Analysis 
ninth  and  tenth  of  the  Leviathan,  he  proceeds  to  the  of  pylons. 
analysis  of  the  passions.  The  motion  in  some  internal  sub- 
stance of  the  head,  if  it  does  not  stop  there,  producing  mere 
conceptions,  proceeds  to  the  heart,  helping  or  hindering  the 
vital  motions,  which  he  distinguishes  from  the  voluntary, 
exciting  in  us  pleasant  or  painful  affections,  called  passions. 
We  are  solicited  by  these  to  draw  near  to  that  which  pleases 
us,  and  the  contrary.  Hence  pleasure,  love,  appetite,  desire, 
are  divers  names  for  divers  considerations  of  the  same  thing. 
As  all  conceptions  we  have  immediately  by  the  sense  are 
delight  or  pain  or  appetite  or  fear,  so  are  all  the  imaginations 
after  sense.  But  as  they  are  weaker  imaginations,  so  are  they 
also  weaker  pleasures  or  weaker  pains.1  All  delight  is  appe- 
tite, and  presupposes  a  further  end.  There  is  no  utmost  end 
in  this  world ;  for,  while  we  live,  we  have  desires,  and  desire 
presupposes  a  further  end.  We  are  not,  therefore,  to  wonder 
that  men  desire  more,  the  more  they  possess  ;  for  felicity,  by 
which  we  mean  continual  delight,  consists,  not  in  having 
prospered,  but  in  prospering.2  Each  passion,  being,  as  he 
fancies,  a  continuation  of  the  motion  which  gives  rise  to  a 
peculiar  conception,  is  associated  with  it.  They  all,  except 
such  as  are  immediately  connected  with  sense,  consist  in  the 
conception  of  a  power  to  produce  some  effect.  To  honor  a 
man  is  to  conceive  that  he  has  an  excess  of  power  over  some 
one  with  whom  he  is  compared :  hence  qualities  indicative  of 
power,  and  actions  significant  of  it,  are  honorable ;  riches  are 
honored  as  signs  of  power,  and  nobility  is  honorable  as  a 
sign  of  power  in  ancestors.3 

136.  "The  constitution  of  man's  body  is  in  perpetual  mu- 
tation, and  hence  it  is  impossible  that  all  the  same  GOOOU^ 
things  should  always  cause  in  him  the  same  appe-  ^t^g 
tites  and  aversions ;  much  less  can  all  men  consent 
in  the  desire  of  any  one  object.  But  whatsoever  is  the  object 
of  any  man's  appetite  or  desire,  that  is  it  which  he  for  his 
part  calls  good  ;  and  the  object  of  his  hate  and  aversion,  evil ; 
or  of  his  contempt,  vile  and  inconsiderable.  For  these  words 
of  good,  evil,  and  contemptible,  are  ever  used  with  relation  to 
the  person  using  them ;  there  being  nothing  simply  and  abso- 
lutely so ;  nor  any  common  rule  of  good  and  evil,  to  be  taken 

i  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  7.  *  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  7 ;  Lev.  c.  11.          »  Hum.  Nat.,  o.  8. 


1520  HOBBES.  PART  in. 

from  the  nature  of  the  objects  themselves,  but  from  the 
person  of  the  man,  where  there  is  no  commonwealth,  or,  in  a 
commonwealth,  from  the  person  that  represents  us.  or  from  an 
arbitrator  or  judge,  whom  men  disagreeing  shall  by  consent 
set  up,  and  make  his  sentence  the  rule  thereof." ' 

137.  In  prosecuting  this  analysis,  all  the  passions  are  re- 
Hwpara-     solved  into  self-love,  the  pleasure  that  we  take  in 
doxes.         our  own  pOwerj  the  pain  that  we  suffer  in  wanting  it. 
Some  of  his  explications  are  very  forced.     Thus  weeping  is 
said  to  be  from  a  sense  of  our  want  of  power.     And  here 
comes  one  of  his  strange  paradoxes.     "  Men  are  apt  to  weep 
that  prosecute  revenge,  when  the  revenge  is  suddenly  stopped 
or  frustrated  by  the  repentance  of  their  adversary ;   and  such 
are  the  tears  of  reconciliation" 2     So  resolute  was  he  to  resort 
to  any  thing  the  most  preposterous,  rather  than  admit  a  moral 
feeling  in  human  nature.     His  account  of  laughter  is  better 
known,  and  perhaps  more  probable,  though  not  explaining  the 
whole  of  the  case.     After  justly  observing,  that,  whatsoever  it 
be  that  moves  laughter,  it  must  be  new  and  unexpected,  he 
defines  it  to  be  "  a  sudden  glory  arising  from  a  sudden  con- 
ception of  some  eminency  in  ourselves,  by  comparison  with 
the  infirmity  of  others,  or  with  our  own  formerly ;   for  men 
laugh  at  the  follies  of  themselves  past."     It  might  be  objected, 
that  those  are  most  prone  to  laughter  who  have  least  of  this 
glorying  in  themselves,  or  undervaluing  of  their  neighbors. 

138.  "  There  is  a  great  difference  between  the  desire  of  a 
His  notion   man  when  indefinite,  and  the  same  desire  limited  to 
of  love.        one  person;  an{j  this  is  that  love  which  is  the  grout 
theme  of  poets.     But,  notwithstanding  their  praises,  it  must 
be  defined  by  the  word  'need;'  for  it  is  a  conception  a  man 
hath  of  his  need  of  that  one  person  desired."3     There  is  yet 
another  passion  sometimes  called  love,  but  more   properly 
good-will  or  charity.     There  can  be  no  greater  argument  to  a 
man  of  his  own  power  than  to  find  himself  able,  not  only  to 
accomplish  his  own  desires,  but  also  to  assist  other  men  in 
theirs ;   and  this  is  that  conception  wherein  consists  charity. 
In  which  first  is  contained  that  natural  affection  of  parents 
towards  their  children,  which  the  Greeks  call  aropyri,  as  also 
that  affection  wherewith  men  seek  to  assist  those  that  adhere 
unto  them.     But  the  affection  wherewith   men    many  times 
bestow  their  benefits  on  strangers  is  not  to  be  called  charity, 

'Lev.,  c.  6.  *  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9  ;  Lev.,  o.  6  and  10.  »  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9. 


CHAP.  ILL     CURIOSITY  —  INTELLECTUAL  CAPACITIES.  121 

but  either  contract,  whereby  they  seek  to  purchjtse  friendship, 
or  fear,  which  makes  them  to  purchase  peace."1  Tfyis  is 
equally  contrary  to  notorious  truth,  there  being  neither  fear 
nor  contract  in  generosity  towards  strangers.  It  is,  however, 
not  so  extravagant  as  a  subsequent  position,  that  in  beholding 
the  danger  of  a  ship  in  a  tempest,  though  there  is  pity,  which 
is  grief,  yet  "  the  delight  in  our  own  security  is  so  far  predomi- 
nant, that  men  usually  are  content  in  such  a  case  to  be  specta- 
tors of  the  misery  of  their  friends." 2 

139.  As  knowledge  begins  from  experience,  new  experi- 
ence is  the  beginning  of  new  knowledge.     Whatever, 

,,          c          ,  .    °    ,.       ,1       ,         '     Curioeity. 

therefore,  happens  new  to  a  man,  gives  mm  the  hope 
of  knowing  somewhat  he  knew  not  before.  This  appetite  of 
knowledge  is  curiosity.  It  is  peculiar  to  man ;  for  beasts 
never  regard  new  things,  except  to  discern  how  far  they  may 
be  useful,  while  man  looks  for  the  cause  and  beginning  of  all 
he  sees.3  This  attribute  of  curiosity  seems  rather  hastily 
denied  to  beasts.  And  as  men,  he  says,  are  always  seeking 
new  knowledge,  so  are  they  always  deriving  some  new  gratifi- 
cation. There  is  no  such  thing  as  perpetual  tranquillity  of 
mind  while  we  live  here,  because  life  itself  is  but  motion,  and 
can  never  be  without  desire  nor  without  fear,  no  more  than 
without  sense.  "  TVhat  kind  of  felicity  God  hath  ordained  to 
them  that  devoutly  honor  him,  a  man  shall  no  sooner  know 
than  enjoy,  being  joys  that  now  are  as  incomprehensible,  as 
the  word  of  schoolmen,  'beatifical  vision,'  is  unintelligible."4 

140.  From  the  consideration  of  the  passions,  Hobbes  ad- 
vances to  inquire  what  are  the  causes  of  the  differ- 
ence in  the  intellectual  capacities  and  dispositions  of   Of  inteUec- 
men.3     Their  bodily  senses  are  nearly  alike,  whence   *££scapar 
he  precipitately  infers  there  can  be  no  great  differ- 
ence in  the  brain.     Yet  men  differ  much  in  their  bodily  con- 
stitution, whence  he  derives  the  principal  differences  in  their 
minds :   some,  being  addicted  to  sensual  pleasures,   are  less 
curious  as  to  knowledge,  or  ambitious  as  to  power.     This  is 
called  dulness,  and  proceeds  from  the  appetite  of  bodily  delight. 
The  contrary  to  this  is  a  quick  ranging  of  mind  accompanied 
with  curiosity  in  comparing  things  that  come  into  it,  either  as 
to  unexpected  similitude,  in  which  fancy  consists,  or  d 

1  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9.  s  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9. 

*  Id.,  ibid.    This  is  an  exaggeration  of  4  Ley.,  c.  6  and  c.  11. 

•ome  well-known  lines  of  Lucretius,  which  6  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  10. 
are  themselves  exaggerated. 


122  HOBBES.  PART  m. 

tude  in  things  appearing  the  same,  which  is  properly  called 
judgment;  "for  to  judge  is  nothing  else  but  to  distinrrui>li 
and  discern.  And  both  fancy  and  judgment  are  commonly 
comprehended  under  the  name  of  wit,  which  seems  to  be  a 
tenuity  arid  agility  of  spirits,  contrary  to  that  restiness  of  the 
spirits  supposed  in  those  who  are  dull." 1 

141.  We  call  it  levity,  when  the  mind  is  easily  diverted, 
and  the  discourse  is  parenthetical;    and  this  proceeds   from 
curiosity  with  too  much  equality  and  indifference ;  for,  when 
all  things  make  equal  impression  and  delight,  they  equally 
throng  to  be  expressed.     A  different  fault  is  indocibility,  or 
difficulty  of  being  taught;    which  must  arise   from   a   false 
opinion  that  men  know  already  the  truth  of  what  is  called  in 
question :  for  certainly  they  are  not  otherwise  so  unequal  in 
capacity  as  not  to  discern  the  difference  of  what  is  proved 
and  what  is  not ;  and  therefore,  if  the  minds  of  men  were  all 
of  white  paper,  they  would  all  most  equally  be  disposed  to 
acknowledge  whatever  should  be  in  right  method,  and  by  right 
ratiocination  delivered  to  them.     But  when  men  have  once 
acquiesced  in  untrue  opinions,  and  registered  them  as  authen- 
tical  records  in  their  minds,  it  is  no  less  impossible  to  speak 
intelligibly  to  such  men  than  to  write  legibly  on  a  paper  al- 
ready scribbled  over.     The  immediate  cause,  therefore,   of 
indocibility  is  prejudice,  and  of  prejudice  false  opinion  of  our 
own  knowledge.2 

142.  Intellectual  virtues  are  such  abilities  as  go  by  the 
wit  and      name  of  a  good  wit,  which  may  be  natural  or  ac- 
fency.         quired.     "By  natural  wit,"  says  Ilobbes,  "I  mean 
not  that  which  a  man  hath  from  his  birth  ;  for  that  is  nothing 
else  but  sense,  wherein  men  differ  so  little  from  one  another, 
and  from  brute  beasts,  as  it  is  not  to  be  reckoned  among  vir- 
tues.    But  I  mean  that  wit  which  is  gotten  by  use  only  and 
experience,  without  method,  culture,  or  instruction,  and  con- 
sists chiefly  in   celerity  of  imagining   and   steady  direction. 
And  the  difference  in  this  quickness  is   caused   by  that   of 
men's  passions  that  love  and  dislike  some  one  thing,   some 
another;   and  therefore  some  men's  thoughts  run   one  way, 
eome  another ;   and  are  held  to,  and  observe  differently  the 
things  that  pass  through  their  imagination."     Fancy  is  not 
praised  without  judgment  and  discretion,  which  is  properly  a 
discerning  of  times,  places,  and  persons;  but  judgment  and 

»  Hum.  Nat'.  »  Id. 


CHAP.  m.        MADNESS— UNMEANING  LANGUAGE.  123 

discretion  is  commended  for  itself  without  fancy :  without 
steadiness  and  direction  to  some  end,  a  great  fancy  is  one  kind 
of  madness,  such  as  they  have  who  lose  themselves  in  long 
digressions  and  parentheses.  If  the  defect  of  discretion  be 
apparent,  how  extravagant  soever  the  fancy  be,  the  whole  dis- 
course will  be  taken  for  a  want  of  wit.1 

143.  The  causes  of  the  difference  of  wits  are  in  the  pas* 
sions ;  and  the  difference  of  passions  proceeds  part-   Differences 
ly  from  the  different  constitution   of  the  body  and   in  the  pas- 
partly  from  different  education.     Those  passions  are   K 
chiefly  the  desire  of  power,  riches,  knowledge,  or  honor ;  all 
which  may  be  reduced  to  the  first :  for  riches,  knowledge,  and 
honor  are  but  several  sorts  of  power.     He  who  has  no  great 
passion  for  any  of  these,  though  he  may  be  so  far  a  good  man 
as  to  be  free  from  giving  offence,  yet  cannot  possibly  have 
either  a  great  fancy  or  much  judgment.     To  have  weak  pas- 
sions is  dulness  ;  to  have  passions  indifferently  for  every  thing, 
giddiness  and  distraction ;  to  have  stronger  passions  for  any 
thing  than  others  have   is  madness.     Madness   may  be  the 
excess  of  many  passions ;   and  the  passions  them-  Madneas 
selves,  when  they  lead  to  evil,  are  degrees  of  it. 

He  seems  to  have  had  some  notion  of  what  Butler  is  reported 
to  have  thrown  out  as  to  the  madness  of  a  whole  people. 
"  What  argument  for  madness  can  there  be  greater,  than  to 
clamor,  strike,  and  throw  stones  at  our  best  friends?  Yet 
this  is  somewhat  less  than  such  a  multitude  will  do.  For 
they  will  clamor,  fight  against,  and  destroy  those  by  whom  all 
their  lifetime  before  they  have  been  protected,  and  secured 
from  injury.  And,  if  this  be  madness  in  the  multitude,  it  is 
the  same  in  every  particular  man."2 

144.  There  is  a  fault  in  some  men's  habit  of  discoursing, 
which  may  be  reckoned  a  sort  of  madness,  which  is  unmeaning 
when  they  speak  words  with  no  signification  at  all.  ^nguage. 
"  And  this  is  incident  to  none  but  those  that  converse  in  ques- 
tions of  matters  incomprehensible  as  the   schoolmen,  or  in 
questions  of  abstruse  philosophy.     The  common  sort  of  men 
seldom  speak  insignificantly,  and  are  therefore  by  those  other 
egregious  persons   counted  idiots.     But,  to  be  assured  their 
words  are  without  any  thing  correspondent  to  them  in  the 
mind,  there  would  need  some  examples ;  which  if  any  man 
require,  let  him  take  a  schoolman  into  his  hands,  and  see  if  he 

i  Lev.,  o.  8.  »  Id 


124  HOBBES.  PART  in 

can  translate  any  one  chapter  concerning  any  difficult  point, 
as  the  Trinity,  the  Deity,  the  nature  of  Christ,  transubstantia- 
tion,  free-will,  &c.,  into  any  of  the  modern  tongues,  so  as  to 
make  the  same  intelligible,  or  into  any  tolerable  Latin,  such 
as  they  were  acquainted  with  that  lived  when  the  Latin 
tongue  was  vulgar."  And,  after  quoting  some  words  from 
Suarez,  he  adds,  "  When  men  write  whole  volumes  of  such 
stuff,  are  they  not  mad,  or  intend  to  make  others  so?"1 

145.  The  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Leviathan,  "On  manners," 
.,  by  which  he  means  those  qualities  of  mankind  which 

Manners.          J  ..    .  \  .         . 

concern  their  living  together  in  peace  and  unity,  is 
full  of  Hobbes's  caustic  remarks  on  human  nature.  Often 
acute,  but  always  severe,  he  ascribes  overmuch  to  a  deliberate 
and  calculating  selfishness.  Thus  the  reverence  of  antiquity 
is  referred  to  "  the  contention  men  have  with  -the  living,  not 
with  the  dead ;  to  these  ascribing  more  than  due,  that  they  may 
obscure  the  glory  of  the  other."  Thus,  also,  "  to  have  received, 
from  one  to  whom  we  think  ourselves  equal,  greater  benefits 
than  we  can  hope  to  requite,  disposes  to  counterfeit  love,  but 
really  to  secret  hatred,  and  puts  a  man  into  the  estate  of  a 
desperate  debtor,  that,  in  declining  the  sight  of  his  creditor, 
tacitly  wishes  him  where  he  might  never  see  him  more.  For 
benefits  oblige,  and  obligation  is  thraldom ;  and  unrequitable 
obligation  perpetual  thraldom,  which  is  to  one's  equal  hateful." 
He  owns,  however,  that  to  have  received  benefits  from  a  supe- 
rior, disposes  us  to  love  him ;  and  so  it  does  where  we  can 
hope  to  requite  even  an  equal.  If  these  maxims  have  a 
certain  basis  of  truth,  they  have  at  least  the  fault  of  those  of 
Rochefoucault :  they  are  made  too  generally  characteristic 
of  mankind. 

146.  Ignorance  of  the  signification  of  words  disposes  men 
I    orances  ^°  *a^e  on  trust  not  only  the  truth  they  know  not, 
and  pngu-    but  also  errors  and  nonsense.     For  neither  can  be 

.  detected  without  a  perfect  understanding  of  words. 
"  But  ignorance  of  the  causes  and  original  constitution  of 
right,  equity,  law,  and  justice,  disposes  a  man  to  make  custom 
and  example  the  rule  of  his  actions,  in  such  manner  as  to 
think  that  unjust  which  it  has  been  the  custom  to  punish ;  and 
that  just,  of  the  impunity  and  approbation  of  which  they  can 
produce  an  example,  or,  as  the  lawyers  which  only  use  this 
false  measure  of  justice  barbarously  call  it,  a  precedent," 

>  Ley. 


CHAP.  HI.  HIS  THEORY  OF  RELIGION.  125 

u  Men  appeal  from  custom  to  reason,  and  from  reason  to  cus- 
tom, as  it  serves  their  turn ;  receding  from  custom  when  their 
interest  requires  it,  and  setting  themselves  against  reason  as 
oft  as  reason  is  against  them ;  which  is  the  cause  that  the 
doctrine  of  right  and  wrong  is  perpetually  disputed  both  by 
the  pen  and  the  sword :  whereas  the  doctrine  of  lines  and 
figures  is  not  so,  because  men  care  not  in  that  subject  what  is 
truth,  as  it  is  a  thing  that  crosses  no  man's  ambition,  profit,  or 
lust.  For  I  doubt  not,  but  if  it  had  been  a  thing  contrary  to 
any  man's  right  of  dominion,  or  to  the  interest  of  men  that 
have  dominion,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  should  be 
equal  to  two  angles  of  a  square,  that  doctrine  should  have 
been,  if  not  disputed,  yet,  by  the  burning  of  all  books  of 
geometry,  suppressed  as  far  as  he  whom  it  concerned  was 
able." 1  This  excellent  piece  of  satire  has  been  often  quoted, 
and  sometimes  copied,  and  does  not  exaggerate  the  pertinacity 
of  mankind  in  resisting  the  evidence  of  truth,  when  it  thwarts 
the  interests  and  passions  of  any  particular  sect  or  community. 
In  the  earlier  part  of  the  paragraph,  it  seems  not  so  easy  to 
reconcile  what  Hobbes  has  said  with  his  general  notions  of 
right  and  justice ;  since  if  these  resolve  themselves,  as  is  his 
theory,  into  mere  force,  there  can  be  little  appeal  to  reason, 
or  to  any  thing  else  than  custom  and  precedent,  which  are 
commonly  the  exponents  of  power. 

147.  In  the  conclusion  of  this  chapter  of  the  Leviathan,  as 
well  as  in  the  next,  he  dwells  more  on  the  nature  His  theory 
of  religion  than  he  had  done  in  the  former  treatise,  of  "^g1011- 
and  so  as  to  subject  himself  to  the  imputation  of  absolute 
atheism,  or  at  least  of  a  denial  of  most  attributes  which  we 
assign  to  the  Deity.  "  Curiosity  about  causes,"  he  says,  "  led 
men  to  search  out,  one  after  the  other,  till  they  came  to  this 
necessary  conclusion,  that  there  is  some  eternal  cause  which 
men  call  God.  But  they  have  no  more  idea  of  his  nature 
than  a  blind  man  has  of  fire,  though  he  knows  that  there  is 
something  that  warms  him.  So,  by  the  visible  things  of  this 
world  and  their  admirable  order,  a  man  may  conceive  there  is 
a  cause  of  them,  which  men  call  God,  and  yet  not  have  an 
idea  or  image  of  him  in  his  mind.  And  they  that  make  little 
inquiry  into  the  natural  causes  of  things  are  inclined  to  feign 
several  kinds  of  powers  invisible,  and  to  stand  in  awe  of  their 
own  imaginations.  And  this  fear  of  things  invisible  is  the 

1  I«T.,  c  ll 


126  HOBBES.  PABT  III. 

natural  seed  of  that  which  every  one  in  himself  calleth  reli- 
gion, and  in  them  that  worship  or  fear  that  power  otherwise 
than  they  do,  superstition." 

148.  "As  God  is  incomprehensible,  it  follows  that  we  can 
have  no  conception  or  image  of  the  Deity ;  and,  consequently, 
all  his  attributes  signify  our  inability  or  defect  of  power  to 
conceive  any  thing  concerning  his  nature,  and  not  any  con- 
ception of  the  same,  excepting  only  this,  that  there  is  a  God. 
Men  that  by  their  own  meditation  arrive  at  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  one  infinite,  omnipotent,   and  eternal    God,   choose 
rather  to  confess  this  is  incomprehensible  and   above  their 
understanding,  than  to  define  his  nature  by  spirit  incorporeal, 
and  then  confess  their  definition  to  be  unintelligible."1     For, 
concerning  such  spirits,  he  holds  that  it  is  not  possible  by 
natural  means  only  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  so  much  as 
that  there  are  such  things.2 

149.  Religion  he  derives  from  three  sources,  —  the  desire 
its  supposed  °f  men  to  search  for  causes,  the  reference  of  every 
sources.        thing  that  has  a  beginning  to  some  cause,  and  the 
observation  of  the   order   and  consequence  of  things.     But 
the  two  former  lead  to  anxiety;  for  the  knowledge  that  there 
have  been  causes  of  the  effects  we  see,  leads  us  to  anticipate 
that  they  will  in  time  be  the  causes  of  effects  to  come ;  so  that 
every  man,  especially  such  as  are  over-provident,  is  "  like 
Prometheus,  the  prudent  man,  as  his  name  implies,  who  was 
bound  to  the  hill  Caucasus,  a  place  of  large  prospect,  where 
an  eagle  feeding  on  his  liver  devoured  as  much  by  day  as  was 
repaired  by  night ;  and  so  he  who  looks  too  far  before  him 
has   his   heart  all   day  long  gnawed  by  the  fear  of  death, 
poverty,  or  other  calamity,  and  has  no  repose  nor  pause  but 
in  sleep."     This  is  an  allusion  made  in  the  style  of  Lord 
Bacon.      The   ignorance   of  causes   makes   men   fear    some 
invisible  agent,  like  the  gods  of  the  Gentiles ;   but  the  inves- 
tigation of  them  leads  us   to   a   God    eternal,  infinite,   and 
omnipotent.     This  ignorance,  however,  of  second  causes,  con- 
spiring with  three  other  prejudices  of  mankind,  —  the  belief  in 
ghosts,  or  spirits  of  subtile  bodies,  the  devotion  and  reverence 
generally  shown  towards  what  we  fear  as  having  power  to 
hurt  us,  and  the  taking  of  things  casual  for  prognostics,  —  are 
altogether  the  natural  seed  of  religion ;  which,  by  reason  of 
the  different  fancies,  judgments,  and  passions  of  several  meii 

1  Ler.,  c.  12.  *  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  11. 


CHAP.  HI.  SYLLOGISTIC  METHOD.  127 

hath  grown  up  into  ceremonies  so  different,  that  those  which 
are  used  by  one  man  are  for  the  most  part  ridiculous  to 
another.  He  illustrates  this  by  a  variety  of  instances  from 
ancient  superstitions.  But  the  forms  of  religion  are  changed 
when  men  suspect  the  wisdom,  sincerity,  or  love  of  those  who 
teach  it,  or  its  priests.1  The  remaining  portion  of  the  Levia- 
than, relating  to  moral  and  political  philosophy,  must  bt 
deferred  to  our  next  chapter. 

150.  The  Elementa  Philosophise  were  published  by  Hobbea 
in  1655,  and  dedicated  to  his  constant  patron,  the  Earl  of 
Devonshire.     These  are  divided  into  three  parts  ;  entitled  De 
Corpore,  De  Homine,  and  De  Give.     And  the  first  part  has 
itself  three  divisions ;  Logic,  the  First  Philosophy,  and  Phy- 
sics.    The  second  part,  De  Homine,  is  neither  the  treatise  of 
Human  Nature,  nor  the  corresponding  part  of  the  Leviathan, 
though  it  contains  many  tlu'ngs  substantially  found  there.     A 
long  disquisition  on  optics  and  the  nature  of  vision,  chiefly 
geometrical,  is  entirely  new.     The  third  part,  De  Give,  is  the 
treatise  by  tha/  name,  reprinted,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  with- 
out alteration. 

151.  The  first  part  o*"  the  first  treatise,  entitled  Computatio 
sive   Logica,  is  by  no.  means  the  least  valuable  among  the 
philosophical  writings  of  Hobbes.     In  forty  pages  the  subject 
is  very  well  and  clearly  explained;  nor  do  I  know  that  the 
principles  are  better  laid  down,  or  the  rules  more  sufficiently 
given,  in  more  prolix  treatises.     Many  of  his  observations, 
especially  as  to  words,  are  such  as  we  find  in  his  English 
works ;  and  perhaps  his  nominalism  is  more  clearly  expressed 
than  it  is  in  them.     Of  the  syllogistic  method,  at  least  for  the 
purpose  of  demonstration,  or  teaching  others,  he  seems  to  have 
entertained   a   favorable   opinion,  or   even   to   have   held    it 
necessary   for   real   demonstration,  as   his    definition   shows. 
Hobbes  appears  to  be  aware  of  what  I  do  not  remember  to 
have   seen   put   by   others,  that,  in   the   natural  process  of 
reasoning,  the  minor  premise  commonly  precedes  the  major.3 

1  Lev.,  c.  12.  or  in  proving  to  others.    In  the  rhetorical 

1  In   Whately's  Logic,   p.  90,  it  is  ob-  nse  of  syllogism,  it  ean  admit  of  no  doubt 

served,  that  ••  the  proper  order  is  to  place  that  the  opposite  order  is  the  most  striking 

the  major  premise   first,   and   the   minor  and  persuasive;    such   as   in   Cato,    "If 

second  :  but  this  does  not  constitute  the  there  be  a  God.  he  must  delight  in  virtue  ; 

major  and  minor  premises,"  &c.     It  may  and  that   which   he  delights  in  must  lie 

be  the  proper  order  in  one  gense,  as  ex-  happy. "     In  Euclid's  demonstrations,  this 

hibiting   better   the   foundation   of  syllo-  will  be  found  the  form  usually  employed  ; 

gistic  reasoning :  but  it  is  not  that  which  and   though  the   rules   of   grammar   ar« 

tre  commonly  follow,  either  in  thinking  generally  illustrated  by  examples,  which 


128  HOBBES.  PAET  III. 

It  is  for  want  of  attending  to  this,  that  syllogisms,  as  usually 
stated,  are  apt  to  have  so  formal  and  unnatural  a  construction. 
The  process  of  the  mind  in  this  kind  of  reasoning  is  explained, 
in  general,  with  correctness,  and,  I  believe,  with  originality,  in 
the  following  passage,  which  I  shall  transcribe  from  the  Latin, 
rather  than  give  a  version  of  my  own ;  few  probably  being 
likely  to  read  the  present  section,  who  are  unacquainted  with 
that  language.  The  style  of  Hobbes,  though  perspicuous,  is 
concise,  and  the  original  words  will  be  more  satisfactory  than 
any  translation. 

152.  "  Syllogismo  directo  cogitatio  in  animo  respondens  est 
hujusmodi.  Primo  concipitur  phantasma  rei  nominatae  cum 
accidente  sive  affectu  ejus  propter  quern  appellatur  eo  nomine 
quod  est  in  minore  propositione  subjectum;  deinde  animo 
occurrit  phantasma  ejusdem  rei  cum  accidente  sive  affectu 
propter  quern  appellatur,  quod  est  in  eadem  propositione 
prasdicatum.  Tertio  redit  cogitatio  rursus  ad  rem  nominatam 
cum  affectu  propter  quern  eo  nomine  appellatur,  quod  est  in 
praedicato  propositionis  majoris.  Postremo  cum  meminerit 
eos  affectus  esse  omnes  unius  et  ejusdem  rei,  concludit  tria 
ilia  nomina  ejusdem  quoque  rei  esse  nomina ;  hoc  est,  conclu- 
sionem  esse  verarn.  Exempli  causa,  quando  fit  syllogismus 
hie,  Homo  est  Animal,  Animal  est  Corpus,  ergo  Homo  est 
Corpus,  occurrit  animo  imago  hominis  loquentis  vel  differentia 
[sic,  sed  lege  disserentis],  meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet 
vocari  hominem.  Deinde  occurrit  eadem  imago  ejusdem 
hominis  sese  moventis,  meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet  vocari 
animal.  Tertio  recurrit  eadem  imago  hominis  locum  aliquein 
sive  spatium  occupantis,  meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet 
vocari  corpus.1  Postremo  cum  meminerit  rem  illam  quae  et 

Is  beginning  with  the  major  premise,  yet  fail  to  direct  the  student's  attention  to 

the  process  of  reasoning  which  a  boy  em-  this,  really  do  not  justice  to  their  own 

ploys  in  construing  a   Latin   sentence  is  favorite  science. 

the  reverse.     He  observes  a  nominative  1  This    is    the    questionable     part     of 

t.-iM-,  :i  verb  in  the  third  person,  and  then  Hobbes's  theory  of  syllogism.     According 

applies  his  general  rule,  or  major,  to  the  to  the  common  and  obvious  underi-tantl- 

particiilur  instance,   or  minor,  so   as   to  ing,  the  mind,  in  the  major  premise.  ';  Ani- 

iufer  their  agreement.     In  criminal  juris-  nial  est  Corpus,''  does  not  reflect  on  the 

prudence,  the  Scots  begin  with  the  major  subject  of  the  minor,  Homo,  as  occupying 

premise,   or  relevancy  of  the  indictment,  space,  but  on   the  subject  of  the  major, 

when  there  is  room  for  doubt;  the  Eng-  Animal,  which  includes,  indeed,  the  for- 

lish,  with  the  minor,  or  evidence  of  the  mer,  but  is  mentally  substituted  for  it.     It 

fact,  reserving  the  other  for  what  we  call  may  sometimes  happen,  that,  where  this 

motion  in  arrest  of  judgment.     Instances  predicate  of  the  minor  tenn  is  manifestly 

of  both  orders  are  common  ;   but  by  far  a  collective  word   that   comprehends    the 

the  most  frequent  are  of  that  which  the  subject,  the  latter  is  not,  as  it  were,  ab- 

Archbishop  of  Dublin  reckons   the   less  sorbed  in  it,  and  may  be  contemplated  by 

proper  of  the  two.    Those  logicians  who  the  mind  distinctly  in  the  major  ;  as  if  we 


CHAP.  m.  HIS  INFLUENCE.  129 

extendebatur  secundum  locum,  et  loco  movebatur,  et  oratione 
utebatur,  unam  et  eandem  fuisse,  concludit  etiam  nomina  ilia 
tria,  Homo,  Animal,  Corpus,  ejusdem  rei  esse  nomina,  et 
proinde,  Homo  est  Corpus,  esse  propositionem  veram.  Mani- 
festum  bine  est  conceptum  sive  cogitationem  quae  respondens 
syllogismo  ex  propositionibus  universalibus  in  animo  existit, 
nullam  esse  in  iis  animalibus  quibus  deest  usus  nominum,  cum 
inter  syllogizandum  oporteat  non  modo  de  re  sed  etiara 
alternis  vicibus  de  diversis  rei  nominibus,  quse  proptei 
diversas  de  re  cogitationes  adhibitse  sunt,  cogitare." 

153.  The  metaphysical  philosophy  of  Hobbes,  always  bold 
and  original,  often  acute  and  profound,  without  producing  an 
immediate  school  of  disciples  like  that  of  Descartes,  struck, 
perhaps,  a  deeper  root  in  the  minds  of  reflecting  men,  and  has 
influenced  more  extensively  the  general  tone  of  speculation. 
Locke,  who  had  not  read  much,  had  certainly  read  Hobbes, 
though  he  does  not  borrow  from  him  so  much  as  has  sometimes 
been  imagined.  The  French  metaphysicians  of  the  next  cen- 
tury found  him  nearer  to  their  own  theories  than  his  more 
celebrated  rival  in  English  philosophy.  But  the  writer  who 
has  built  most  upon  Hobbes,  and  may  be  reckoned,  in  a 
certain  sense,  his  commentator,  if  he  who  fully  explains  and 
develops  a  system  may  deserve  that  name,  was  Hartley.  The 
theory  of  association  is  implied  and  intimated  in  many  passages 
of  the  elder  philosopher,  though  it  was  first  expanded  and 
applied  with  a  diligent,  ingenious,  and  comprehensive  research, 
if  sometimes  in  too  forced  a  manner,  by  his  disciple.  I  use 
this  word  without  particular  inquiry  into  the  direct  acquaint- 
ance of  Hartley  with  the  writings  of  Hobbes :  the  subject  had 
been  frequently  touched  in  intermediate  publications  ;  and  in 
matters  of  reasoning,  as  I  have  intimated  above,  little  or  no 
presumption  of  borrowing  can  be  founded  on  coincidence. 
Hartley  also  resembles  Hobbes  in  the  extreme  to  which  he 
has  pushed  the  nominalist  theory,  in  the  proneness  to  mate- 
rialize all  intellectual  processes,  and  either  to  force  all  things 
mysterious  to  our  faculties  into  something  imaginable,  or  to 

say,  John  is  a  man ;  a  man  feels ;  we  may  space  besides  men.    It  does  not  seem  that 

perhaps  have  no  image  in  the  mind  of  any  otherwise   there  could  be  any  ascending 

man  but  John.     But  this  is  not  the  case  scale  from  particulars  to  generals,  as  far 

where   the   predicated  quality  appertains  as  the  reasoning  faculties,  independent  of 

to  many  things  visibly  different  from  the  words,  are  concerned  ;   and,  if  we  begin 

subject;  as  in  Hobbes's  instance,  "  Animal  with  the  major  premise  of  the  syllogism, 

est  Corpus,"  we  may  surely  consider  other  this  will  be  still  more  apparent, 
animals  as  being  extended  and  occupying 

VOL.  m.  9 


130  HOBBES.  PART  111. 

reject  them  as  unmeaning,  in  the  want,  much  connected  with 
this,  of  a  steady  perception  of  the  difference  between  the  Ego 
and  its  objects,  in  an  excessive  love  of  simplifying  and  gene- 
ralizing, and  in  a  readiness  to  adopt  explanations  neither  con- 
formable to  reason  nor  experience,  when  they  fall  in  with 
some  single  principle,  the  key  that  was  to  unlock  every  ward 
of  the  human  soul. 

154.  In  nothing  does  Hobbes  deserve  more  credit  than  in 
having  set  an  example  of  close  observation  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind.  If  he  errs,  he  errs  like  a  man  who  goes 
a  little  out  of  the  right  track,  not  like  one  who  has  set  out  in  a 
wrong  one.  The  eulogy  of  Stewart  on  Descartes,  that  he  was 
the  father  of  this  experimental  psychology,  cannot  be  strictly 
wrested  from  him  by  Hobbes,  inasmuch  as  the  publications  of 
the  former  are  of  an  earlier  date ;  but  we  may  fairly  say,  that 
the  latter  began  as  soon,  and  prosecuted  his  inquiries  farther. 
It  seems  natural  to  presume,  that  Hobbes,  who  is  said  to  have 
been  employed  by  Bacon  in  translating  some  of  his  works  into 
Latin,  had  at  least  been  led  by  him  to  the  inductive  process 
which  he  has  more  than  any  other  employed.  But  he  has 
seldom  mentioned  his  predecessor's  name  ;  and  indeed  his  mind 
was  of  a  different  stamp,  —  less  excursive,  less  quick  in  disco- 
vering analogies,  and  less  fond  of  reasoning  from  them,  but 
more  close,  perhaps  more  patient,  and  more  apt  to  follow  up  a 
predominant  idea,  which  sometimes  becomes  one  of  the  idola 
specus  that  deceive  him. 


CHAP.  IV.  CASUISTICAL  WRITERS.  13] 


CHAPTER    IV. 

HISTORY  OF   MORAL  AND  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  AND  OF 
JURISPRUDENCE,  FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Casuists  of  the  Roman  Church  —  Suarez  on  Moral  Law — Selden  —  Charron —  La 
Mothe  le  Vayer —  Bacon's  Essays — Feltham  —  Browne's  Religio  Medici  —  Other 
Writers. 

1.  IN  traversing  so  wide  a  field  as  moral  and  political  philo- 
sophy, we  must  still  endeavor  to  distribute  the  subject  accord- 
ing to  some  order  of  subdivision,  so  far  at  least  as  the  contents 
of  the  books  themselves  which  come  before  us  will  permit. 
And  we  give  the  first  place  to  those  which,  relating  to  the 
moral  law  both  of  nature  and  revelation,  connect  the  proper 
subject  of  the  present  chapter  with  that  of  the  second  and 
third. 

2.  We  meet  here  -a  concourse  of  volumes   occupying  no 
small   space  in  old  libraries,  —  the  writings  of  the   casuistical 
casuists,  chiefly  within  the  Romish  Church.     None   writers. 
perhaps  in  the  whole  compass  of  literature  are  more  neglected 
by  those  who  do  not  read  with  what  we  may  call  a  professional 
view ;  but  to  the  ecclesiastics  of  that  communion  they  have 
still  a  certain  value,  though  far  less  than  when  they  were  first 
written.     The  most  vital  discipline  of  that  church,  the  secret 
of  the  power  of  its  priesthood,  the  source  of  most  of  importance 
the  good  and  evil  it  can  work,  is  found  in  the  confes-  °.f  confes- 
sional.    It  is  there  that  the  keys  are  kept ;  it  is  there 

that  the  lamp  burns,  whose  rays  diverge  to  every  portion  of 
human  life.  No  church  that  has  relinquished  this  prerogative 
can  ever  establish  a  permanent  dominion  over  mankind  ;  none 
that  retains  it  in  effective  use  can  lose  the  hope  or  the  prospect 
of  being  their  ruler. 


132  CASUISTICAL  LITERATURE.  PART  HL 

3.  It  is  manifest,  that,  in  the  common  course  of  this  rite,  no 

particular  difficulty  will  arise  ;  nor  is  the  confessor 
likely  to  weigh  in  golden  scales  the  scruples  or  ex- 
forthe        cuses  of  ordinary  penitents.     But  peculiar  circum- 

confessor.  -111  ii/>          •_••  i 

stances  might  be  brought  before  liim,  wherein  there 
would  be  a  necessity  for  possessing  some  rule,  lest,  by  sanc- 
tioning the  guilt  of  the  self-revealing  party,  he  should  incur 
as  much  of  his  own.  Treatises,  therefore,  of  casuistry  were 
written  as  guides  to  the  confessor,  and  became  the  text-books 
in  every  course  of  ecclesiastical  education.  These  were  com- 
monly digested  in  a  systematic  order,  and,  what  is  the  unfailing 
consequence  of  system,  or  rather  almost  part  of  its  definition, 
spread  into  minute  ramifications,  and  aimed  at  comprehending 
every  possible  emergency.  Casuistry  is  itself  allied  to  juris- 
prudence, especially  to  that  of  the  canon  law ;  and  it  was 
natural  to  transfer  the  subtilty  of  distinction  and  copiousness 
of  partition  usual  with  the  jurists,  to  a  science  which  its  pro- 
fessors were  apt  to  treat  upon  very  similar  principles. 

4.  The  older  theologians  seem,  like  the  Greek  and  Roman 
increa.se  of  moralists,  when  writing  systematically,  to  have  made 
casuistical    general  morality   their   subject,    and   casuistry   but 

literature,      ?i     •      -n  .  •  *  /T  .,     . 

their  illustration.  Among  the  monuments  of  their 
ethical  philosophy,  the  Secunda  Secundae  of  Aquinas  is  the 
most  celebrated.  Treatises,  however,  of  casuistry,  which  is 
the  expansion  and  application  of  ethics,  may  be  found  both 
before  and  during  the  sixteenth  century ;  and,  while  the  con- 
fessional was  actively  converted  to  so  powerful  an  engine,  they 
could  not  conveniently  be  wanting.  Casuistry,  indeed,  is  not 
much  required  by  the  church  in  an  ignorant  age ;  but  the  six- 
teenth century  was  not  an  age  of  ignorance.  Yet  it  is  not  till 
about  the  end  of  that  period  that  we  find  casuistical  literature 
burst  out,  so  to  speak,  with  a  profusion  of  fruit.  "  Uninter- 
ruptedly afterwards,"  says  Eichhorn,  "through  the  whole 
seventeenth  century,  the  moral  and  casuistical  literature  of 
the  Church  of  Rome  was  immensely  rich ;  and  it  caused  a 
lively  and  extensive  movement  in  a  province  which  had  long 
been  at  peace.  The  first  impulse  came  from  the  Jesuits,  to 
whom  the  Jansenists  opposed  themselves.  We  must  distin- 
guish from  both  the  theological  moralists,  who  remained  faith- 
ful to  their  ancient  teaching." 1 

5.  We  may  be  blamed,  perhaps,  for  obtruding  a  pedantic 

*  Geschichte  der  Cnltnr,  rol.  rl.  part  i.  p.  890. 


CHAP.  IV.    DIRECTORY  OFFICE  OF  THE  CONFESSOIL  133 

terminology,  if  we  make  the  most  essential  distinction  in  moral- 
ity, and  one  for  want  of  which,  more  than  any  other,  Distinction 
its  debatable  controversies  have  arisen,  that  between  ^u^^' 
the  subjective  and  objective  rectitude  of  actions ;  objective 
in  clearer  language,  between  the  provinces  of  con-  moraUty- 
ecience  and  of  reason,  between  what  is  well  meant  and  what 
is  well  done.  The  chief  business  of  the  priest  is  naturally 
with  the  former.  The  Avails  of  the  confessional  are  privy  to 
the  whispers  of  self-accusing  guilt.  No  doubt  can  ever  arise 
as  to  the  subjective  character  of  actions  which  the  conscience 
has  condemned,  and  for  which  the  penitent  seeks  absolution. 
Were  they  even  objectively  lawful,  they  are  sins  in  him,  ac- 
cording to  the  unanimous  determination  of  casuists.  But 
though  what  the  conscience  reclaims  against  is  necessarily 
wrong,  relatively  to  the  agent,  it  does  not  follow  that  what 
it  may  fail  to  disapprove  is  innocent.  Choose  whatever  the- 
orv  we  may  please  as  to  the  moral  standard  of  actions,  they 
must  have  an  objective  rectitude  of  their  own,  independently 
of  their  agent,  without  which  there  could  be  no  distinction  of 
right  and  wrong,  nor  any  scope  for  the  dictates  of  conscience. 
The  science  of  ethics,  as  a  science,  can  only  be  conversant 
with  objective  morality.  Casuistry  is  the  instrument  of  apply- 
ing this  science,  which,  like  every  other,  is  built  on  reasoning, 
to  the  moral  nature  and  volition  of  man.  It  rests  for  its  vali- 
dity on  the  great  principle,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  know,  as 
far  as  lies  in  us,  what  is  right,  as  well  as  to  do  what  we  know 
to  be  such.  But  its  application  was  beset  with  obstacles  ;  the 
extenuations  of  ignorance  and  error  were  so  various,  the  diffi- 
culty of  representing  the  moral  position  of  the  penitent  to  the 
judgment  of  the  confessor  by  any  process  of  language  so  in- 
superable, that  the  most  acute  understanding  might  be  foiled 
in  the  task  of  bringing  home  a  conviction  of  guilt  to  the  self- 
deceiving  sinner.  Again,  he  might  aggravate  needless  scru- 
ples, or  disturb  the  tranquil  repose  of  innocence. 

6.  But,  though  past  actions  are  the   primary   subject   of 
auricular  confession,  it  was  a  necessary  consequence    T 

iii        f  i  11     -i  Directory 

that  the  priest  would  be  frequently  called  upon  to  office  of 
advise  as  to  the  future,  to  bind  or  loose  the  will  in   f^J"1" 
incomplete  or  meditated  lines  of  conduct.     And.  as  all 
without  exception  must  come  before  his  tribunal,  the  rich,  the 
noble,  the  counsellors  of  princes,  and  princes  themselves,  were 
to  reveal  their  designs,  to  expound  their  uncertainties,  to  call, 


134  DIFFICULTIES  OF  CASUISTRY.  PAKT  III. 

in  effect,  for  his  sanction  in  all  they  might  have  to  do,  to 
secure  themselves  against  transgression  by  shifting  the  respon- 
sibility on  his  head.  That  this  tremendous  authority  of  di- 
rection, distinct  from  the  rite  of  penance,  though  immediately 
springing  from  it,  should  have  produced  a  no  more  over- 
whelming influence  of  the  priesthood  than  it  has  actually  done, 
great  as  that  has  been,  can  only  be  ascribed  to  the  re-action 
of  human  inclinations  which  will  not  be  controlled,  and  of 
human  reason  which  exerts  a  silent  force  against  the  authority 
it  acknowledges. 

7.  In  the  directory  business  of  the  confessional,  far  more 
Difficulties    than  in  the  penitential,  the  priest  must  strive  to  bring 
of  casuistry.  aDOUt  tnat  union  between  subjective  and  objective 
rectitude  in  which  the  perfection  of  a  moral  act  consists ;  with- 
out which,  in  every  instance,  according  to  their  tenets,  some 
degree  of  sinfulness,  some  liability  to  punishment,  remains,  and 
which  must  at  least  be  demanded  from  those  who  have  been 
made  acquainted  with  their  duty.      But  when  he  came  from 
the  broad  lines  of  the  moral  law,  from  the  decalogue  and  the 
gospel,  or  even  from  the  ethical  systems  of  theology,  to  the 
indescribable  variety  of  circumstance  which  his  penitents  had 
to  recount,  there  arose  a  multitude  of  problems,  and  such  as 
perhaps  would  most  command  his  attention,  when  they  in- 
volved the  practice  of  the  great,  to  which  he  might  hesitate 
to  apply  an  unbending  rule.     The  questions  of  casuistry,  like 
those  of  jurisprudence,  were  often  found  to  turn  on  the  great 
ajid  ancient  doubt  of  both  sciences,  whether  we  should  abide 
by  the  letter  of  a  general  law,  or  let  in  an  equitable  interpre- 
tation of  its  spirit.     The  consulting  party  would  be  apt   to 
plead  for  the  one  :  the  guide  of  conscience  would  more  securely 
adhere  to  the  other.     But  he  might  also  perceive  the  severity 
of  those  rules  of  obligation  which  conduce,  in  the  particular 
instance,  to  no  apparent  end,  or  even  defeat  their  own  prin- 
ciple.     Hence  there  arose  two  schools  of  casuistry,  first  in 
the  practice  of  confession,  and  afterwards  in  the  books  intend- 
ed to  assist  it :  one  strict  and  uncomplying ;  the  other  more 
indulgent,  and  flexible  to  circumstances. 

8.  The  characteristics  of  these  systems  were  displayed  in 
strict  and    almost  the  whole  range  of  morals.     They  were,  how- 
lax  schemes  ever,  chiefly  seen  in  the  rules  of  veracity,  and  espe- 
cially in  promissory  obligations.     According  to  the 

fathers  of  the  church,  and  to  the  rigid  casuists  in  general,  a 

I 


CHAP.  IV.  THE  JESUITS.  135 

lio  was  never  to  be  uttered,  a  promise  was  never  to  be  broken. 
The  precepts,  especially  of  revelation,  notwithstanding  their 
brevity  and  figurativeness,  were  held  complete  and  literal. 
Hence  promises  obtained  by  mistake,  fraud,  or  force,  and, 
above  all,  gratuitous  vows,  where  God  was  considered  as  the 
promisee,  however  lightly  made,  or  become  intolerably  one- 
rous by  supervenient  circumstances,  were  strictly  to  be 
fulfilled,  unless  the  dispensing  power  of  the  church  might 
sometimes  be  sufficient  to  release  them.  Besides  the  respect 
due  to  moral  rules,  and  especially  those  of  Scripture,  there 
had  been  from  early  times  in  the  Christian  Church  a  strong 
disposition  to  the  ascetic  scheme  of  religious  morality ;  a  pre- 
valent notion  of  the  intrinsic  meritoriousness  of  voluntary 
self-denial,  which  discountenanced  all  regard  in  man  to  his 
own  happiness,  at  least  in  this  life,  as  a  sort  of  flinching  from 
the  discipline  of  suffering.  And  this  had  doubtless  its  influ- 
ence upon  the  severe  casuists. 

9.  But  there  had  not  been  wanting  those,  who,  whatever 
course  they  might  pursue  in  the  confessional,  found  Convenience 
the  convenience  of  an  accommodating  morality  in  the  ofthelatter- 
secular  affairs  of  the  church.     Oaths  were  broken,  engage- 
ments entered  into  without  faith,  for  the  ends  of  the  clergy, 
or  of  those  whom  they  favored  in  the  struggles  of  the  world. 
And  some  of  the  ingenious  sophistry,  by  which  these  breaches 
of  plain  rules  are  usually  defended,  was  not  unknown  before 
the  Reformation.     But  casuistical  writings  at  that  time  were 
comparatively   few.     The   Jesuits   have   the   credit   of  first 
rendering  public  a  scheme  of  false  morals,  which  has  been 
denominated  from  them ;  and  enhanced  the  obloquy  that  over- 
whelmed their  order.     Their  volumes  of  casuistry  were  ex- 
ceedingly numerous :  some  of  them  belong  to  the  last  twenty 
years  of  the  sixteenth,  but  a  far  greater  part  to  the  following 
century. 

10.  The  Jesuits  were  prone  for  several  reasons  to  embrace 
the  laxer   theories   of  obligation.     They  were   less  Favored  bj- 
tainted  than  the  old  monastic  orders  with  that  super-  the  Jesuits 
stition  which  had  flowed  into  the  church  from  the  East,  —  the 
meritoriousness   of  self-inflicted  suffering  for  its   own    sake. 
They  embraced  a  life  of  toil  and  danger,  but  not  of  habitual 
privation  and  pain.     Dauntless  in  death  and  torture,  they 
shunned  the  mechanical  asceticism  of  the  convent.     And,  se- 
condly, their  eyes  were  bent  on  a  great  end,  —  the  good  of  the 


186  EXTRAVAGANCE  OF  STRICT  CASUISTS.      PAKI  III. 

Catholic  Church,  which  they  identified  with  that  of  their  own 
order.  It  almost  invariably  happens,  that  men  who  have  the 
good  of  mankind  at  heart,  and  actively  prosecute  it,  become 
embarrassed,  at  some  time  or  other,  by  the  conflict  of  particu- 
lar duties  with  the  best  method  of  promoting  their  object. 
An  unaccommodating  veracity,  an  unswerving  good  faith,  will 
often  appear  to  stand,  or  stand  really,  in  the  way  of  their 
ends  :  and  hence  the  little  confidence  we  repose  in  enthusiasts, 
even  when,  in  a  popular  mode  of  speaking,  they  are  most  sin- 
cere ;  that  is,  most  convinced  of  the  rectitude  of  their  aim. 

11.  The  course  prescribed  by  Loyola  led  his  disciples,  not 
The  causes   to  solitude,  but  to  the  world.     They  became  the  as- 
of  this.        sociates  and  counsellors,  as  well  as  the  confessors,  of 
the  great.      They  had  to  wield  the  powers  of  the  earth  for 
the  service  of  heaven.     Hence,  in  confession  itself,  they  were 
often  tempted  to  look  beyond  the  penitent,  and  to  guide  his 
conscience  rather  with  a  view  to  his  usefulness  than  his  integ- 
rity.    In  questions  of  morality,  to  abstain  from  action  is  gene- 
rally the  means  of  innocence ;  but  to  act  is  indispensable  for 
positive  good.     Thus  their  casuistry  had  a  natural  tendency 
to  become  more  objective,  and  to  entangle  the  responsibility 
of  personal  conscience  in  an  inextricable  maze  of  reasoning. 
They  had  also  to  retain  their  influence  over  men  not  wholly 
submissive  to  religious  control,  nor  ready  to  abjure  the  plea- 
sant paths  in  which  they  trod ;  men  of  the  court  and  the  city, 
who  might  serve  the  church,  though  they  did  not  adorn  it,  and 
for  whom  it  was  necessary  to  make  some  compromise  in  fur- 
therance of  the  main  design. 

12.  It  must  also  be  fairly  admitted,  that  the  rigid  casuists 

went  to  extravagant  lengths.  Their  decisions  were 
gance  of  often  not  only  harsh,  but  unsatisfactory :  the  reason 
casuists0*  demanded  in  vain  a  principle  of  their  iron  law  ;  and 

the  common  sense  of  mankind  imposed  the  limita- 
tions, which  they  were  incapable  of  excluding  by  any  thing 
better  than  a  dogmatic  assertion.  Thus,  in  the  cases  of 
promissory  obligation,  they  were  compelled  to  make  some  ex- 
ceptions ;  and  these  left  it  open  to  rational  inquiry  whether 
more  might  not  be  found.  They  diverged  unnecessarily,  as 
many  thought,  from  the  principles  of  jurisprudence :  for  the 
jurists  built  their  determinations,  or  professed  to  do  so,  on 
what  was  just  and  equitable  among  men ;  and  though  a  dis- 
tinction, frequently  very  right,  was  taken  between  the  forum 


CHAP.  IV.  OPPOSITE  FAULTS  OF  JESUITS.  137 

exterius  and  interius,  the  provinces  of  jurisprudence  and  ca- 
suistry, yet  the  latter  could  not,  in  these  questions  of  mutual 
obligation,  rest  upon  wholly  different  ground  from  the 
former. 

13.  The  Jesuits,  however,   fell  rapidly  into  the   opposite 
extreme.     Their  subtilty  in  logic,  and  great  ingenui-  Q      . 

ty  in  devising  arguments,  were  employed  in  sophisms  faults  of 
that  undermined  the  foundations  of  moral  integrity  Jesmte- 
in  the  heart.  They  warred  with  these  arms  against  the  con- 
science which  they  were  bound  to  protect.  The  offences  of 
their  casuistry,  as  charged  by  their  adversaries,  are  very 
multifarious.  One  of  the  most  celebrated  is  the  doctrine  of 
equivocation ;  the  innocence  of  saying  that  which  is  true  in  a 
sense  meant  by  the  speaker,  though  he  is  aware  that  it  will  be 
otherwise  understood.  Another  is  that  of  what  was  called 
probability ;  according  to  which  it  is  lawful,  in  doubtful  prob- 
lems of  morality,  to  take  the  course  which  appears  to  ourselves 
least  likely  to  be  right,  provided  any  one  casuistical  writer  of 
good  repute  has  approved  it.  The  multiplicity  of  books,  and 
want  of  uniformity  in  their  decisions,  made  this  a  broad  path 
for  the  conscience.  In  the  latter  instance,  as  in  many  others, 
the  subjective  nature  of  moral  obligation  was  lost  sight  of;  and 
to  this  the  scientific  treatment  of  casuistry  inevitably  contri- 
buted. 

14.  Productions  so  little  regarded  as  those  of  the  Jesuitical 
casuists  cannot  be  dwelt  upon.     Thomas  Sanchez  of  Cordova 
is  author  of  a  large  treatise  on  matrimony,  published  in  1592  ; 
the  best,  as  far  as  the  canon  law  is  concerned,  which  has  yet 
been  published.     But  in  the  casuistical  portion  of  this  work 
the  most  extraordinaiy  indecencies  occur,  such  as  have  con- 
signed it  to  general  censure.1     Some  of  these,   it   must   be 
owned,   belong  to  the  rite   of  auricular  confession  itself,  as 
managed  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  though  they  give  scandal  by 
their  publication  and  apparent  excess  beyond  the  necessity  of 
the  case.     The  Summa  Casuum  Conscientise  of  Toletus,   a 
Spanish  Jesuit  and  cardinal,  which,  though  published  in  1 602, 
belongs  to  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  casuistical  writings 
of  Less,  Busenbaum,  and  Escobar,  may  just  be  here  men- 
tioned.    The  Medulla   Casuum    Conscientiae   of  the   second 
(Munster,  1645)  went  through  fifty-two  editions;  the  Theolo- 

1  Bayle,  art.  "  Sanchez,"  expatiates  on    Cethegum.    The  later  editions  of  Sanchel 
this,  and  condemns  the  Jesuit  ;  Oatilina    De  Matrkuonio  are  castigate. 


138  SUAREZ.  PART  in. 

gia  Moralis  of  the  last  (Lyon,  1646),  through  forty.1  Of  the 
opposition  excited  by  the  laxity  in  moral  rules  ascribed  to  the 
Jesuits,  though  it  began  in  some  manner  during  this  period, 
we  shall  have  more  to  say  in  the  next. 

15.  Suarez  of  Granada,  by  far  the  greatest  man  in  the 
Suarez,        department  of  moral  philosophy  whom  the  order  of 
De  Legibns.  LOyOla  produced  in  this  age,  or  perhaps  in  any  other, 
may  not  improbably  have  treated  of  casuistry  in  some  part  of 
his  numerous  volumes.     We  shall,  however,  gladly  leave  this 
subject  to  bring  before  the  reader  a  large  treatise  of  Suarez 
on  the  principles  of  natural  law,  as  well  as  of  all  positive 
jurisprudence.     This  is  entitled  Tractatus  de  Legibus  ac  Deo 
Legislatore  in  decem  Libros  distributus,  utriusque  Fori  Homi- 
bus  non  minus  utilis,   quam  necessarius.     It  might  with  no 
great  impropriety,  perhaps,  be  placed  in  any  of  the  three  sec- 
tions of  this  chapter,  relating  not  only  to  moral  philosophy, 
but  to  politics  in  some  degree,  and  to  jurisprudence. 

16.  Suarez  begins  by  laying  down  the  position,  that  all 
Titles  of  bis  legislative  as  well  as  all  paternal  power  is  derived 
ten  books.    from    G0d,   and   that   the    authority  of  every   law 
resolves  itself  into  his.     For  either  the  law  proceeds  immedi- 
ately from  God,  or,  if  it  be  human,  it  proceeds  from  man  as 
his  vicar  and  minister.     The  titles  of  the  ten  books  of  this 
large  treatise  are  as  follows  :   1.  On  the  nature  of  law  in  gene- 
ral, And  on  its  causes  and  consequences ;  2.  On  eternal,  natu- 
ral law,  and  that  of  nations;    3.  On  positive  human  law  iu 
itself  considered  relatively  to  human  nature,  which  is  also  called 
civil  law  ;  4.  On  positive  ecclesiastical  law  ;   5.  On  the  differ- 
ences of  human  laws,  and  especially  of  those  that  are  penal, 
or  in  the  nature  of  penal ;  6.  On  the  interpretation,  the  altera- 
tion, and  the  abolition  of  human  laws ;  7.  On  unwritten  law, 
which  is  called  custom ;    8.  On  those  human  laws  which  an; 
called  favorable,  or  privileges ;  9.  On  the  positive  divine  la\v 
of  the  old  dispensations ;  10.  On  the  positive  divine  law  of  the 
new  dispensation. 

17.  This  is  a  very  comprehensive  chart  of  general  law,  and 
Heads  of     entitles  Suarez  to  be  accounted  such  a  precursor  of 
the  second   Grotius  and  Puffendorf  as  occupied  most  of  their 

ground,  especially  that  of  the  latter,  though  he  culti- 
vated it  in  a  different  manner.  His  volume  is  a  closely 
printed  folio  of  700  pages  in  double  columns.  The  following 

1  Banke,  die  Fipste,  vol.  ill. 


CHAP.  IV.  SCHOLASTIC  TREATISES.  1 39 

heads  of  chapters  in  the  second  book  will  show  the  questions 
in  which  Suarez  dealt,  and,  in  some  degree,  his  method  of 
stating  and  conducting  them:  1.  Whether  there  be  any- 
eternal  law,  and  what  is  its  necessity;  2.  On  the  subject 
of  eternal  law,  and  on  the  acts  it  commands ;  3.  In  what  act 
the  eternal  law  exists  (existif),  and  whether  it  be  one  or  many ; 
4.  Whether  the  eternal  law  be  the  cause  of  other  laws,  and 
obligatory  through  their  means ;  5.  In  what  natural  law  con- 
sists ;  6.  Whether  natural  law  be  a  preceptive  divine  law ; 
7.  On  the  subject  of  natural  law,  and  on  its  precepts ;  8. 
Whether  natural  law  be  one ;  9.  Whether  natural  law  bind 
the  conscience ;  10.  Whether  natural  law  obliges  not  only 
to  the  act  (actus)  but  to  the  mode  (modum)  of  virtue,  —  this 
obscure  question  seems  to  refer  to  the  subjective  nature,  or 
motive,  of  virtuous  actions,  as 'appears  by  the  next;  11. 
Whether  natural  law- obliges  us  to  act  from  love  or  charity 
(ad  modum  operandi  ex  caritate)  ;  12.  Whether  natural  law 
not  only  prohibits  certain  actions,  but  invalidates  them  when 
done ;  13.  Whether  the  precepts  of  the  law  of  nature  are 
intrinsically  immutable;  14.  Whether  any  human  authority 
can  alter  or  dispense  with  the  natural  law  ;  15.  Whether  God 
by  his  absolute  power  can  dispense  with  the  law  of  nature ; 
16.  Whether  an  equitable  interpretation  can  ever  be  admitted 
in  the  law  of  nature;  17.  Whether  the  law  of  nature  is  dis- 
tinguishable from  that  of  nations ;  1 8.  Whether  the  law  of 
nations  enjoins  or  forbids  any  thing;  19.  By  what  means  we 
are  to  distinguish  the  law  of  nature  from  that  of  nations ; 
20.  Certain  corollaries ;  and  that  the  law  of  nations  is  both 
just,  and  also  mutable. 

18.  These  heads  may  give  some  slight  notion  to  the  reader 
of  the  character  of  the  book  ;  as  the  book  itself  may    . 

'  «      Character 

serve  as  a  typical  instance  of  that  form  of  theology,   of  such 
of  metaphysics,  of  ethics,  of  jurisprudence,  which   J^Ses10 
occupies  the   unread   and   unreadable  folios  of  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  especially  those  issuing 
from  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  may  be  styled  generally  the 
scholastic   method.      Two   remarkable   characteristics    strike 
us   in  these   books,  which   are   sufficiently  to  be  judged  by 
reading   their   table   of  contents,  and   by  taking   occasional 
samples  of  different  parts.     The  extremely  systematic  form 
they  assume,   and  the  multiplicity  of  divisions,  render  this 
practice  more  satisfactory  than  it  can  be  in  works  of  less  regular 


140  QUOTATIONS  OF  SUAREZ.  PART  UL 

arrangement.  One  of  these  characteristics  is  that  spirit  of 
system  itself;  and  another  is  their  sincere  desire  to  exhaust 
the  subject  by  presenting  it  to  the  mind  in  every  light,  and 
by  tracing  all  its  relations  and  consequences.  The  fertility 
of  those  men  who,  like  Suarez,  superior  to  most  of  the  rest, 
were  trained  in  the  scholastic  discipline,  to  which  I  refer  the 
methods  of  the  canonists  and  casuists>  is  sometimes  surprising : 
their  views  are  not  one-sided ;  they  may  not  solve  objections 
to  our  satisfaction,  but  they  seldom  suppress  them ;  they 
embrace  a  vast  compass  of  thought  and  learning ;  they  write 
less  for  the  moment,  and  are  less  under  the  influence  of  local 
and  temporary  prejudices,  than  many  who  have  lived  in  better 
ages  of  philosophy.  But,  again,  they  have  great  defects ; 
their  distinctions  confuse  instead  of  giving  light ;  their  systems, 
being  not  founded  on  clear  principles,  become  embarrassed 
and  incoherent ;  their  method  is  not  always  sufficiently  con- 
secutive ;  the  difficulties  which  they  encounter  are  too  arduous 
for  them ;  they  labor  under  the  multitude,  and  are  entangled 
by  the  discordance  of  their  authorities. 

19.  Suarez,  who  discusses  all  these  important  problems  of 

his  second  book  with  acuteness,  and,  for  his  circum- 

Quota-  .  .,.  -111 

tionsof  stances,  with  an  independent  mind,  is  weighed  down 
Suarez.  jjy.  j.j)e  extent  an(j  nature  of  his  learning.  If  Grotius 
quotes  philosophers  and  poets  too  frequently,  what  can  we  say 
of  the  perpetual  reference  to  Aquinas,  Cajetan,  Soto,  Turre- 
cremata,  Vasquius,  Isidore,  Vincent  of  Beauvais  or  Alensis, 
not  to  mention  the  canonists  and  fathers,  which  Suart-z 
employs  to  prove  or  disprove  every  proposition  ?  The  syllo- 
gistic forms  are  unsparingly  introduced.  Such  writers  as 
Soto  or  Suarez  held  all  kinds  of  ornament  not  less  unfit  for 
philosophical  argument  than  they  would  be  for  geometry. 
Nor  do  they  ever  appeal  to  experience  or  history  for  the 
rules  of  determination.  Their  materials  are  nevc-rthdi •>< 
abundant,  consisting  of  texts  of  Scripture,  sayings  of  the  fathers 
and  schoolmen,  established  theorems  in  natural  theology  and 
metaphysics,  from  which  they  did  not  find  it  hard  to  select 
premises,  which,  duly  arranged,  gave  them  conclusions. 

20.  Suarez,  after  a  prolix  discussion,  comes  to  the   con- 
iiis  defi       elusion,  that  "  eternal  law  is  the  free  determination 
nition  of      of  the  will  of  God,  ordaining  a  rule  to  be  observed, 
tew™11        either,  first,  generally  by  all   parts  of  the  universe 

as  a  means  of  a  common  good,  whether  immediately 


Ca*p.  TV.  SUAREZ.  141 

belonging  to  It  in  respect  of  the  entire  universe,  or  at  least  in 
respect  of  the  singular  parts  thereof;  or,  secondly,  to  be 
specially  observed  by  intellectual  creatures  in  respect  of  their 
free  operations." l  This  is  not  instantly  perspicuous ;  but 
definitions  of  a  complex  nature  cannot  be  rendered  such.  It 
is  true,  however,  what  the  reader  may  think  curious,  that  this 
crabbed  piece  of  scholasticism  is  nothing  else,  in  substance, 
than  the  celebrated  sentence  on  law,  which  concludes  the  first 
book  of  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity.  Whoever  takes  the 
pains  to  understand  Suarez,  will  perceive  that  he  asserts 
exactly  that  which  is  unrolled  in  the  majestic  eloquence  of 
our  countryman. 

21.  By  this  eternal  law,  God  is  not  necessarily  bound.  But 
this  seems  to  be  said  rather  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  phrases 
which  were  conventionally  rejected  by  the  scholastic  theo« 
logians,  since,  in  effect,  his  theory  requires  the  affirmative,  as 
we  shall  soon  perceive ;  and  he  here  says  that  the  law  is  God 
himself  (Deus  ipse),  and  is  immutable.  This  eternal  law  is 
not  immediately  known  to  man  in  this  life,  but  either  "in 
other  laws,  or  through  them,"  which  he  thus  explains  :  "  Men, 
while  pilgrims  here  (viatores  homines),  cannot  learn  the 
divine  will  in  itself,  but  only  as  much  as  by  certain  signs  or 
effects  is  proposed  to  them ;  and  hence  it  is  peculiar  to  the 
blessed  in  heaven,  that,  contemplating  the  divine  will,  they 
are  ruled  by  it  as  by  a  direct  law.  The  former  know  the 
eternal  law,  because  they  partake  of  it  by  other  laws,  temporal 
and  positive ;  for,  as  second  causes  display  the  first,  and 
creatures  the  Creator,  so  temporal  laws  (by  which  he  means 
laws  respective  of  man  on  earth),  being  streams  from  that 
eternal  law,  manifest  the  fountain  whence  they  spring.  Yet 
all  T!O  not  arrive  even  at  this  degree  of  knowledge ;  for  all 
are  not  able  to  infer  the  cause  from  the  effect.  And  thus, 
though  all  men  necessarily  perceive  some  participation  of  the 
eternal  laws  in  themselves,  since  there  is  no  one  endowed 
with  reason  who  does  not  in  some  manner  acknowledge,  that 
what  is  morally  good  ought  to  be  chosen,  and  what  is  evil 
rejected,  so  that  in  this  sense  men  have  all  some  notion  of 

"  Legem  seternam  esse  decretum  li-  singularam  gpecierum  ejus,  aut  specia- 

berum  voluntatis  Dei  statuentis  ordinem  liter  servandum  a  creaturis  intellectual! 

servandum.  aut  generaliter  ab  omnibus  bus  quoad  liberas  operationes  earum."  — 

partibus  universi  in  ordine  ad  commune  C.  3,  §6.     Compare  with  Hooker :  Of  Law, 

bonum,    vel   immediate    illi    conveniens  no  less  can  be  said,  than  that  her  thron» 

ratione  totius  universi,  vel  saltern  ratione  is  the  bosom  of  God,  &o. 


142  STJAEEZ.  PART  ID. 

the  eternal  law,  as  St.  Thomas  and  Hales  and  Augustin  say ; 
yet,  nevertheless,  they  do  not  all  know  it  formally,  nor  are 
aware  of  their  participation  of  it,  so  that  it  may  be  said 
the  eternal  law  is  not  universally  known  in  a  direct  manner. 
But  some  attain  that  knowledge,  either  by  natural  reasoning, 
or,  more  properly,  by  revelation  of  faith ;  and  hence  we  have 
said  that  it  is  known  by  some  only  in  the  inferior  laws,  but  by 
others  through  the  means  of  those  laws."1 

22.  In  every  chapter,  Suarez  propounds  the  arguments  of 

doctors  on  either  side  of  the  problem,  ending  with 

>\  net  net  .         .  «•*.•«  i  -in 

God  is  a  his  own  determination,  which  is  frequently  a  middle 
legislator.  course>  Qn  the  question,  Whether  natural  law  is  of 
itself  preceptive,  or  merely  indicative  of  what  is  intrinsically 
right  or  wrong,  or,  in  other  words,  whether  God,  as  to  this 
law,  is  a  legislator,  he  holds  this  middle  line  with  Aquinas 
and  most  theologians  (as  he  says)  ;  contending  that  natural 
law  does  not  merely  indicate  right  and  wrong,  but  commands 
the  one  and  prohibits  the  other  on  divine  authority;  though 
this  will  of  God  is  not  the  whole  ground  of  the  moral  good 
and  evil  which  belongs  to  the  observance  or  transgression  of 
natural  law,  inasmuch  as  it  presupposes  a  certain  intrinsic 
right  and  wrong  in  the  actions  themselves,  to  which  it  super- 
adds  the  special  obligation  of  a  divine  law.  God,  therefore, 
may  be  truly  called  a  legislator  in  respect  of  natural  law." 2 

23.  He  next  comes  to  a  profound  but  important  inquiry, 
Whethnr      closely  connected  with  the  last,  Whether  God  could 
God  could    have   permitted,  by  his   own    law,  actions    against 
contend     natural  reason.     Ockham  and  Gerson  had  resolved 
wrong  ac-     this  in  the  affirmative  ;   Aquinas,  the  contrary  way. 

lions.  »        i  • 

Suarez  assents  to  the  latter,  and  thus  determines 
that  the  law  is  strictly  immutable.  It  must  follow,  of  course, 
that  the  pope  cannot  alter  or  dispense  with  the  law  of  nature ; 
and  he  might  have  spared  the  fourteenth  chapter,  wherein  he 
controverts  the  doctrine  of  Sanchez  and  some  casuists  who 
had  maintained  so  extraordinary  a  prerogative.3  This,  how- 
ever, is  rather  episodical.  In  the  fifteenth  chapter,  he  treats 
more  at  length  the  question,  Whether  God  can  dispense 

1  Lib.  ii.,  c.  4,  §  9.                             ,  illis  adjungit  specialem  legis  dirinse  obli- 

*  "  Haec  Dei   voluntas,   prohibitio  aut  gationem."  —  C.  6,  §  11. 

pncceptio  non  est  tola  ratio  bonitatis  et  3  "  Nulla  potestas  humana,  etiamsi  pon- 

malitue    quae   est    in    observatioue     Tel  tificia  Bit,  potest  proprium  aliquod  proe- 

transgressione   legis  naturalis,   sed    sup-  ceptum  legis  naturalis  abrogare,  nee  illud 

pomt  in  ipsis  actubus  necessarian!  quan-  proprie  et  in  se  minuere,  neque  in  ipao 

dam    honestatem    vel    turpitudinem,    et  dispensare." —  §8. 


CHAP.  IV.  ENGLISH  CASUISTS.  143 

with  the  law  of  nature;  which  is  not,  perhaps,  decided  in 
denying  his  power  to  repeal  it.  He  begins  by  distinguishing 
three  classes  of  moral  laws.  The  first  are  the  most  general, 
such  as  that  good  is  to  be  done  rather  than  evil ;  and  with 
these  it  is  agreed  that  God  cannot  dispense.  The  second  is 
of  such  as  the  precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  where  the  chief 
difficulty  had  arisen.  Ockham,  Peter  d'Ailly,  Gerson,  and 
others,  incline  to  say  that  he  can  dispense  with  all  these, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  only  prohibitions  which  he  has  himself 
imposed.  This  tenet,  Suarez  observes,  is  rejected  by  all 
other  theologians  as  false  and  absurd.  He  decidedly  holds 
that  there  is  an  intrinsic  goodness  or  malignity  in  actions 
independent  of  the  command  of  God.  Scotus  had  been  of 
opinion,  that  God  might  dispense  with  the  commandments 
of  the  second  table,  but  not  those  of  the  first.  Durand  seems 
to  have  thought  the  fifth  commandment  (our  sixth)  more 
dispensable  than  the  rest,  probably  on  account  of  the  case 
of  Abraham.  But  Aquinas,  Cajetan,  Soto,  with  many  more, 
deny  absolutely  the  dispensability  of  the  Decalogue  in  any 
part.  The  Gordian  knot  about  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac  is  cut 
by  a  distinction,  that  God  did  not  act  here  as  a  legislator, 
but  in  another  capacity,  as  lord  of  life  and  death,  so  that  he 
only  used  Abraham  as  an  instrument  for  that  which  he  might 
have  done  himself.  The  third  class  of  moral  precepts  is  of 
those  not  contained  in  the  Decalogue ;  as  to  which  he  decides 
also,  that  God  cannot  dispense  with  them,  though  he  may 
change  the  circumstances  upon  which  their  obligation  rests ; 
as  when  he  releases  a-  vow. 

24.  The  Protestant  churches  were  not  generally  attentive 
to  casuistical  divinity,  which  smelt  too  much  of  the 
opposite  system.     Eichhorn  observes,  that  the  first  easuL-w: 
book  of  that  class,  published  among  the  Lutherans,   ^f118' 
was  by  a  certain  Baldwin  of  Wittenberg,  in  1628.1 
A  i'ew  books  of  casuistry  were  published  in  England  during 
this  period,  though  nothing,  as  well  as  I  remember,  that  can 
be  reckoned  a  system,  or  even  a  treatise,  of  moral  philosophy. 
Perkins,  an  eminent  Calvinistic  divine  of  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, is  the  first  of  these  in  point  of  time.     His  Cases  of 
Conscience   appeared   in    1606.*    Of  this    book   I   can   say 
nothing  from  personal  knowledge.     In  the  works  of  Bishop 
Hall  several  particular  questions  of  this  kind  are  treated,  but 

»  Vol.  Ti.  part  i.  p.  316. 


144  SELDEN.  PAUP  III 

not  with  much  ability.  His  distinctions  arc  more  than 
usually  'feeble.  Thus  usury  is  a  deadly  sin :  but  it  is  very 
difficult  to  commit  it,  unless  we  love  the  sin  for  its  own  sake  ; 
for  almost  every  possible  case  of  lending  money  will  be 
found,  by  his  limitations  of  the  rule,  to  justify  the  taking  i 
profit  for  the  loan.1  His  casuistry  about  selling  goods  is  of 
the  same  description :  a  man  must  take  no  advantage  of  the 
scarcity  of  the  commodity,  unless  there  should  be  just  reason 
to  raise  the  price,  which  he  admits  to  be  often  the  case  in  a 
scarcity.  He  concludes  by  observing,  that  in  this,  as  in  other 
well-ordered  nations,  it  would  be  a  happy  thing  to  have  a 
regulation  of  prices.  He  decides,  as  all  the  old  casuists 
did,  that  a  promise  extorted  by  a  robber  is  binding.  San- 
derson was  the  most  celebrated  of  the  English  casuists.  His 
treatise  De  Juramenti  Obligatione  appeared  in  1647. 

25.  Though  no  proper  treatise  of  moral  philosophy  came 
Seiden         from   any  English  writer   in  this  period,  we    have 
DeJure       One  which    must   be  placed  in  this  class,  strangely 
juxtaUe-    as  the  subject  has  been  handled  by  its  distinguished 
br«os.         author.     Seiden  published  in  1 640  his  learned  work, 
De  Jure  Naturali  et  Gentium  juxta  Disciplinam  Ebrjeorum.3 
The  object  of  the   author  was  to  trace  the  opinions  of  the 
Jews  on  the  law  of  nature  and  nations,  or  of  moral  obligation, 
as   distinct   from  the  Mosaic  law ;    the  former   being  a  law 
to  which  they  held  all  mankind  to   be  bound.     This  theme 
had   been,  of  course,  untouched  by  the  Greek  and    Roman 
philosophers,  nor  was  much  to  be  found  upon  it  in  modern 
writers.      His   purpose   is   therefore    rather    historical    than 
argumentative ;    but  he   seems    so   generally   to    adopt  the 
Jewish   theory  of  natural   law,  that  we   may  consider   him 
the  disciple  of  the  rabbis  as  much  as  their  historian. 

26.  The  origin  of  natural  law  was  not  drawn  by  the  Jews, 

as  some  of  the  jurists  imagined  it  ought  to  be,  from 
theory  of  the  habits  and  instincts  of  all  animated  beings, 
natural  «  qUOd  natura  omnia  animalia  docuit,"  according  to 

the  definition  of  the  Pandects.  Nor  did  they  deem, 
as  many  have  done,  the  consent  of  mankind  and  common 
customs  of  nations  to  be  a  sufficient  basis  for  so  permanent 
and  invariable  a  standard.  Upon  the  discrepancy  of  moral 

1  Hall's  Works  (edit.  Pratt),  vol.  riil.  common,  and  is  eyen  used  by  Joseph  Sca- 

p.  375.  Hger,  as  Vossius  mentions,  in  bis  treatise 

*  Juxta  for  secundum,  we  need  hardly  De  Vitiis  Sermonis. 
say,  is  bad  Latin  :   it  was,  however,  very 


CHAP.  IV.  SELDEN  145 

sentiments  and  practices  among  mankind,  Selden  enlarges 
in  the  tone  which  Sextus  Empiricus  had  taught  scholars,  and 
which  the  world  had  learned  from  Montaigne.  Nor  did 
unassisted  reason  seem  equal  to  determine  moral  questions, 
both  from  its  natural  feebleness,  and  because  reason  alone 
does  not  create  an  obligation,  which  depends  wholly  on  the 
command  of  a  superior.1  But  God,  as  the  ruler  of  the  uni- 
verse, has  partly  implanted  in  our  minds,  partly  made  known 
to  us  by  exterior  revelation,  Ins  own  will,  which  is  our 
law.  These  positions  he  illustrates  with  a  superb  display  of 
erudition,  especially  Oriental,  and  certainly  with  more  pro- 
lixity, and  less  regard  to  opposite  reasonings,  than  we  should 
desire. 

27.  The  Jewish  writers  concur  in  maintaining,  that  certain 
short  precepts    of  moral  duty  were  orally  enjoined 

by  God  on  the  parent  of  mankind,  and  afterwards  cept^oHfte 
on  the  sons  of  Noah.     Whether  these  were  simply  Spni? of 
preserved  by  tradition,  or  whether,   by   an   innate 
moral   faculty,  mankind   had   the   power   of  constantly  dis 
cerning  them,  seems  to  have  been  an  unsettled  point.     The 
principal  of  these  divine  rules  are  called,  for  distinction,  The 
Seven  Precepts    of  the  Sons  of  Noah.     There  is,  however, 
some  variance   in  the  lists,  as  Selden  has  given  them  from 
the  ancient  writers.     That  most  received  consists   of  seven 
prohibitions ;    namely,  of  idolatry,  blasphemy,  murder,  adul- 
tery, theft,  rebellion,  and  cutting  a  limb  from  a  living  animal. 
The   last   of  these,  the  sense  of  which,  however,  is  contro- 
verted, as  well  as  the  third,  but  no  other,  are  indicated  in  the 
ninth  chapter  of  Genesis. 

28.  Selden  pours  forth  his  unparalleled  stores  of  erudition 
on   all   these   subjects,  and   upon   those  which   are   (^^3^,. 
suggested  in  the  course  of  his  explanations.     These  of  Seiden'g 
digressions  are  by  no  means  the   least   useful  part  w 

of  his  long  treatise.  They  elucidate  some  obscure  passages  of 
Scripture.  But  the  whole  work  belongs  far  more  to  theo- 
logical than  to  philosophical  investigation ;  and  I  have  placed 
it  here  chiefly  out  of  conformity  to  usage :  for  undoubtedly 
Selden,  though  a  man  of  very  strong  reasoning  faculties, 
had  not  greatly  turned  them  to  the  principles  of  natural 

1  Selden  says,  in  his  Table  Talk,  that     the  sense  of  Suarez,  without  denying  an 
he  can  understand  no  law  of  nature,  but     intrinsic  distinction  of  right  and  wrong. 
a  law  of  God.    lie  might  mean  this  in 

VOL.  III.  10 


146  CHARRON.  PART  m. 

law.  His  reliance  on  the  testimony  of  Jewish  writers,  many 
of  them  by  no  means  ancient,'  for  those  primeval  traditions 
as  to  the  sons  of  Noah,  was  in  the  character  of  his  times ; 
but  it  will  scarcely  suit  the  more  rigid  criticism  of  our 
own.  His  book,  however,  is  excellent  for  its  proper  pur- 
pose, that  of  representing  Jewish  opinion ;  and  is  among  the 
greatest  achievements  in  erudition  that  any  English  writer 
has  performed. 

29.  The  moral   theories  of  Grotius  and  Hobbes  are  so 
Grotius  and  much  interwoven  with  other  parts  of  their  philoso- 
Hobbes.      phy,  in  the  treatise  De  Jure  Belli  and  in  the  Levia- 
than, that  it  would  be  dissecting  those  works  too  much,  were 
we  to  separate  what  is  merely  ethical  from  what  falls  within 
the  provinces  of  politics  and  jurisprudence.     The  whole  must 
therefore  be  reserved  for  the  ensuing-sections  of  this  chapter. 
Nor  is  there  much  in  the  writings  of  Bacon  or  of  Descartes 
which  falls,  in  the  sense  we  have  hitherto  been  considering  it, 
under  the  class  of  moral  philosophy.     We  may,  therefore, 
proceed  to  another  description  of  books,  relative  to  the  pas- 
sions and  manners  of  mankind,  rather  than,  in  a  strict  sense, 
to  their  duties ;  though  of  course  there  will  frequently  be  some 
intermixture  of  subjects  so  intimately  allied. 

30.  In  the  year  1601,  Peter  Charron,  a  French  ecclesiastic, 
Charronon  published  his  treatise  on  Wisdom.     The  reputation 
Wisdom.      Of  tnjg  work  has  been  considerable :   his  countrymen 
are  apt  to  name  him  with  Montaigne ;  and  Pope  has  given 
him  the  epithet  of  "more  wise"   than  his  predecessor,  on 
account,  as  Warburton  expresses  it,  of  his  "  moderating  every- 
where the   extravagant   Pyrrhonism   of  his   friend."     It   is 
admitted  that  he  has  copied  freely  from  the  Essays  of  Mon- 
taigne :  in  fact,  a  very  large  portion  of  the  treatise  on  Wis- 
dom, not  less,  I  should  conjecture,  than  one-fourth,  is  extracted 
from  them  with  scarce  any  verbal  alteration.     It  is  not  the 
case  that  he  moderates  the  sceptical  tone  which  he  found 
there ;  on  the  contrary,  the  most  remarkable  passages  of  that 
kind  have  been  transcribed :   but  we  must  do  Charron  the 
justice  to  say,  that  he  has  retrenched  the  indecencies,  the 
egotism,  and  the  superfluities.     Charron  does  not  dissemble 
his  debts.     "  This,"  he  says  in  his  preface,  "  is  a  collection  of  a 
part  of  my  studies  :  the  form  and  method  are  my  own.     What 
I  have  taken  from  others  I  have  put  in  their  words,  not  being 
able  to  say  it  better  than  they  have  done."    In  the  political 


CHAP.  IV.  LA  MOTHE  LE  VATER.  147 

part,  he  has  borrowed  copiously  from  Lipsius  and  Bodin ;  and 
he  is  said  to  have  obligations  to  Duvair.1  The  ancients  also 
must  have  contributed  their  share.  It  becomes,  therefore, 
difficult  to  estimate  the  place  of  Charron  as  a  philosopher, 
because  we  feel  a  good  deal  of  uncertainty  whether  any  passage 
may  be  his  own.  He  appears  to  have  been  a  man  formed  in 
the  school  of  Montaigne,  not  much  less  bold  in  pursuing  the 
novel  opinions  of  others,  but  less  fertile  in  original  thoughts, 
so  that  he  often  falls  into  the  commonplaces  of  ethics ;  with 
more  reading  than  his  model,  with  more  disciplined  habits,  as 
well  of  arranging  and  distributing  his  subject,  as  of  observing 
the  sequence  of  an  argument ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  with  far 
less  of  ingenuity  in  thinking,  and  of  sprightliness  of  language. 

31.  A  writer  of  rather  less  extensive  celebrity  than  Char- 
ron belongs  full  as  much  to  the  school  of  Montaigne,   T 

°  i  •       -r<  La  Mothe 

though  he  does  not  so  much  pillage  his  .Essays,  levayer: 
This  was  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  a  man  distinguished  by  £j^J^~ 
his  literary  character  in  the  court  of  Louis  XIII.,  and 
ultimately  preceptor  both  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  the 
young  king  (Louis  XIV.)  himself.  La  Mothe  was  habitually 
and  universally  a  sceptic.  Among  several  smaller  works,  we 
may  chiefly  instance  his  Dialogues,  published  many  years  after 
his  death,  under  the  name  of  Horatius  Tubero.  They  must 
have  been  written  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  belong,  there- 
fore, to  the  present  period.  In  attacking  every  established 
doctrine,  especially  in  religion,  he  goes  much  farther  than 
Montaigne,  and  seems  to  have  taken  some  of  his  metaphysi- 
cal system  immediately  from  Sextus  Empiricus.  He  is  pro- 
fuse of  quotation,  especially  in  a  dialogue  entitled  Le  Banquet 
Sceptique,  the  aim  of  which  is  to  show  that  there  is  no  uni- 
form taste  of  mankind  as  to  their  choice  of  food.  His  mode 
of  arguing  against  the  moral  sense  is  entirely  that  of  Mon- 
taigne ;  or,  if  there  be  any  difference,  is  more  full  of  the  two 
fallacies  by  which  that  lively  writer  deceives  himself:  namely, 
the  accumulating  examples  of  things  arbitrary  and  fanciful, 
such  as  modes  of  dress  and  conventional  usages,  with  respect 
to  which  no  one  pretends  that  any  natural  law  can  be  found ; 
and,  when  he  comes  to  subjects  more  truly  moral,  the  turning 
our  attention  solely  to  the  external  action,  and  not  to  the 
motive  or  principle,  which,  under  different  circumstances,  may 
prompt  men  to  opposite  courses. 

i  Biogr.  Unirersella 


148  BACON'S  ESSAYS.  PART  HL 

32.  These  dialogues  are  not  unpleasing  to  read,  and  ex- 
hibit a  polite  though  rather  pedantic  style,  not  uncommon  in 
the  seventeenth  century.     They  are,  however,  very  diffuse ; 
and  the  sceptical  paradoxes  become  merely  commonplace  by 
repetition.     One  of  them  is  more  grossly  indecent  than  any 
part  of  Montaigne.     La  Mothe  le  Vayer  is  not,  on  the  whole, 
much  to  be  admired  as  a  philosopher :  little  appears  to  be  his 
own,  and  still  less  is  really  good.     He  contributed,  no  ques- 
tion, as  much  as  any  one,  to  the  irreligion,  and  contempt  for 
morality,  prevailing  in  that  court  where  he  was  in  high  repu- 
tation.    Some  other  works  of  this  author  may  be  classed 
under  the  same  description. 

33.  We  can  hardly  refer  Lord  Bacon's  Essays  to  the  school 
Bacon's       of  Montaigne,  though  their  title  may  lead  us  to  sus- 
Essays-       pect  that  they  were  in  some  measure  suggested  by 
that  most  popular  writer.     The  first  edition,  containing  ten 
essays  only,  and  those  much  shorter  than  as  we  now  possess 
them,   appeared,   as  has  been  already  mentioned,  in  1597. 
They  were  reprinted  with  very  little  variation  in  1606.     But 
the  enlarged  work  was  published  in  1612,  and  dedicated  to 
Prince  Henry.     He  calls  them,  in  this  dedication,  "  certain 
brief  notes,  set  down  rather  significantly  than  curiously,  which 
I  have  called  Essays.     The  word  is  late,  but  the  thing  is 
ancient ;  for  Seneca's  Epistles  to  Lucilius,  if  you  mark  them 
well,  are  but  essays,  that  is,  dispersed  meditations,  though 
conveyed  in  the  form  of  epistles."     The  resemblance,  at  all 
events,  to  Montaigne,  is  not  greater  than  might  be  expected 
in  two  men  equally  original  in  genius,  and  entirely  opposite  in 
their  characters  and  circumstances.     One,  by  an  instinctive 
felicity,  catches  some  of  the  characteristics  of  human  nature  ; 
the  other,  by  profound  reflection,  scrutinizes  and  dissects  it. 
One  is  too  negligent  for  the  inquiring  reader,  the  other  too 
formal  and  sententious  for  one  who  seeks  to  be  amused.     We 
delight  in  one,  we  admire  the  other ;  but  this  admiration  has 
also  its  own  delight.     In  one  we  find  more  of  the  sweet  tem- 
per and  tranquil  contemplation  of  Plutarch  ;  in  the  other,  more 
of  the  practical  wisdom  and  somewhat  ambitious  prospects 
of  Seneca.     It  is  characteristic  of  Bacon's  philosophical  writ- 
ings, that  they  have  in  them  a  spirit  of  movement,  a  per- 
petual reference  to  what  man  is  to  do  in  order  to  an  end, 
rather  than  to   his  mere  speculation  upon  what  is.     In  his 
Essays,  tlxis  is  naturally  still  more  prominent.     They  are,  as 


CHAP.  IV.  BACON'S  ESSAYS.  149 

quaintly  described  in  the  titlepage  of  the  first  edition,  "  places 
(loci)  of  persuasion  and  dissuasion ; "  counsels  for  those  who 
would  be  great  as  well  as  wise.  They  are  such  as  sprang 
from  a  mind  ardent  in  two  kinds  of  ambition,  and  hesitating 
whether  to  found  a  new  philosophy,  or  to  direct  the  vessel  of 
the  state.  We  perceive,  however,  that  the  immediate  reward 
attending  greatness,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  gave  it  a 
preponderance  in  his  mind ;  and  hence  his  Essays  are  more 
often  political  than  moral :  they  deal  with  mankind,  not  in 
their  general  faculties  or  habits,  but  in  their  mutual  strife ; 
their  endeavors  to  rule  others,  or  to  avoid  their  rule.  He  is 
more  cautious  and  more  comprehensive,  though  not  more 
acute,  than  Maehiavel,  who  often  becomes  too  dogmatic 
through  the  habit  of  referring  every  thing  to  a  particular 
aspect  of  political  societies.  Nothing  in  the  Prince  or  the 
discourses  on  Livy  is  superior  to  the  Essays  on  Seditions,  on 
Empire,  on  Innovations,  or  generally  those  which  bear  on  the 
dexterous  management  of  a  people  by  their  rulers.  Both 
these  writers  have  what  to  our  more  liberal  age  appears  a  coun- 
selling of  governors  for  their  own  rather  than  their  subjects' 
advantage ;  but  as  this  is  generally  represented  to  be  the  best 
means,  though  not,  as  it  truly  is,  the  real  end,  their  advice 
tends,  on  the  whole,  to  promote  the  substantial  benefits  of 
government. 

34.  The  transcendent  strength  of  Bacon's  mind  is  visible 
in  the  whole  tenor  of  these  Essays,  unequal  as  they  Their  ex- 
must  be  from  the  very  nature  of  such  compositions.  ceUence- 
They  are  deeper  and  more  discriminating  than  any  earlier, 
or  almost  any  later,  work  in  the  English  language,  full  of 
recondite  observation,  long  matured  and  carefully  sifted.  It  is 
true,  that  we  might  wisli  for  more  vivacity  and  ease.  Bacon, 
who  had  much  wit,  had  little  gayety ;  his  Essays  are  conse 
quently  stiff  and  grave,  where  the  subject  might  have  beei 
touched  with  a  lively  hand :  thus  it  is  in  those  on  Gardens 
and  on  Building.  The  sentences  have  sometimes  too  apoph- 
thegmatic  a  form,  and  want  of  coherence  ;  the  historical  in- 
stances, though  far  less  frequent  than  with  Montaigne,  have  a 
little  the  look  of  pedantry  to  our  eyes.  But  it  is  from  this 
condensation,  from  this  gravity,  that  the  work  derives  its 
peculiar  impressiveness.  Few  books  are  more  quoted ;  and, 
what  is  not  always  the  case  with  such  books,  we  may  add,  that 
few  aie  more  generally  read.  In  this  respect,  they  lead  the 


]  50  FELTHAM.     .  PART  UL 

van  of  our  prose  literature  :  for  no  gentleman  is  ashamed  of 
owning  that  he  has  not  read  the  Elizabethan  writers ;  but  it 
would  be  somewhat  derogatory  to  a  man  of  the  slightest  claim 
to  polite  letters,  were  he  unacquainted  with  the  Essays  of 
Bacon.  It  is,  indeed,  little  worth  while  to  read  this  or  any 
other  book  for  reputation's  sake  ;  but  very  few  in  our  language 
so  well  repay  the  pains,  or  afford  more  nourishment  to  the 
thoughts.  They  might  be  judiciously  introduced,  with  a  small 
number  more,  into  a  sound  method  of  education,  —  one  that 
should  make  wisdom,  rather  than  mere  knowledge,  its  object ; 
and  might  become  a  text-book  of  examination  in  our  schools. 

35.  lit  is  rather  difficult  to  fix  upon  the  fittest  place  for 
Feitham'a  bringing  forward  some  books,  which,  though  moral 
Kesoivea.  m  their  subject,  belong  to  the  general  literature  of 
the  age ;  and  we  might  strip  the  province  of  polite  letters 
of  what  have  been  reckoned  its  chief  ornaments.  I  shall 
therefore  select  here  such  only  as  are  more  worthy  of  conside- 
ration for  their  matter  than  for  the  style  in  which  it  is 
delivered.  Several  that  might  range,  more  or  less,  under  the 
denomination  of  moral  essays,  were  published  both  in  English 
and  in  other  languages.  But  few  of  them  are  now  read,  or 
even  much  known  by  name.  One,  which  has  made  a  better  for- 
tune than  the  rest,  demands  mention,  —  the  Resolves  of  Owen 
Feltham.  Of  this  bogk,  the  first  part  of  which  was  published 
in  1627,  the  second  not  till  after  the  middle  of  the  century, 
it  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with  high  praises  in  those  modern 
writers  who  profess  a  faithful  allegiance  to  our  older  litera- 
ture. For  myself,  I  can  only  say  that  Feltham  appears  not 
only  a  labored  and  artificial,  but  a  shallow  writer.  Among 
his  many  faults,  none  strikes  me  more  than  a  want  of  depth, 
which  his  pointed  and  sententious  manner  renders  more  ridi- 
culous. There  are  certainly  exceptions  to  this  vacuity  of 
original  meaning  in  Feltham :  it  would  be  possible  to  fill  a 
few  pages  with  extracts  not  undeserving  of  being  read,  with 
thoughts  just  and  judicious,  though  never  deriving  much 
lustre  from  his  diction.  He  is  one  of  our  worst  writers  in 
point  of  style ;  with  little  vigor,  he  has  less  elegance ;  his 
English  is  impure  to  an  excessive  degree,  and  full  of  words 
unauthorized  by  any  usage.  Pedantry,  and  the  novel  phrases 
which  Greek  and  Latin  etymology  was  supposed  to  warrant, 
appear  in  most  productions  of  this  period;  but  Feltham 
attempted  to  bend  the  English  idiom  to  his  own  affectations 


CHAP.  IV.  SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE.  151 

The  moral  reflections  of  a  serious  and  thoughtful  mind  are 
generally  pleasing ;  and  to  this,  perhaps,  is  partly  owing  the 
kind  of  popularity  which  the  Resolves  of  Feltham  have 
obtained ;  but  they  may  be  had  more  agreeably  and  profitably 
in  other  books.1 

36.  A  superior  genius  to  that  of  Feltham  is  exhibited  in 
the  Religio  Medici  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  This  Browne's 
little  book  made  a  remarkable  impression :  it  was  Religio 
soon  translated  into  several  languages,  and  is  highly 
extolled  by  Conringius  and  others,  who  could  only  judge 
through  these  versions.  Patin,  though  he  rather  slights  it 
himself,  tells  us  in  one  of  his  letters  that  it  was  very  popular 
at  Paris.  The  character  which  Johnson  has  given  of  the 
Religio  Medici  is  well  known ;  and,  though  perhaps  rather 
too  favorable,  appears,  in  general,  just.2  The  mind  of  Browne 
was  fertile,  and,  according  to  the  current  use  of  the  word, 
ingenious  ;  his  analogies  are  original,  and  sometimes  brilliant ; 
and,  as  his  learning  is  also  in  things  out  of  the  beaten  path, 
this  gives  a  peculiar  and  uncommon  air  to  all  his  writings, 
and  especially  to  the  Religio  Medici.  He  was,  however,  far 
removed  from  real  philosophy,  both  by  his  turn  of  mind  and 
by  the  nature  of  his  erudition :  he  seldom  reasons ;  his 
thoughts  are  desultory;  sometimes  he  appears  sceptical  or 
paradoxical;  but  credulity,  and  deference  to  authority,  prevail. 
He  belonged  to  the  class,  numerous  at  that  time  in  our 
church,  who  halted  between  Popery  and  Protestantism ;  and 
this  gives  him,  on  all  such  topics,  an  appearance  of  vacilla- 

i  This  is  a  random  sample  of  Feltham 's  nevertheless,  I  seemed  to  perceive  some 

style:    "  Of  all  objects  of  sorrow,  a  dis-  resemblance  to  the  tone  and  way  of  think- 

tressed  king  is  the  most  pitiful,  because  it  ing  of  the  Turkish  Spy,  which  is  a  great 

presents  us  most  the  frailty  of  humanity,  compliment  to  the  former ;  for  the  Turk- 

and  cannot  but  most  midnight  the  soul  ish  Spy  is  neither  disagreeable  nor  super- 

of  him  that  is  fallen.    The  sorrows  of  a  ficial.      The   resemblance  must  lie  in  a 

deposed  king  are  like  the  distarquements  certain  contemplative  melancholy,  rather 

of  a  dmrted  conscience,  which  none  can  serious    than    severe,    in  raapect  to  the 

know  but  he  that  hath  lost  a  crown." —  world  and  its  ways  ;    and  as  Feltham  'a 

Cent.  i.  61.     We  find,  not  long  after,  the  Resolves  seem  to  have  a  charm,  by  the 

following  precious  phrase :    li  The  nature  editions  they  have  gone  through  and  the 

that  is  arted  with  the  subtleties  of  tune  good  name  they  have  gained,  I  can  only 

and  practice."  —  i.  63.    In  one  page  we  look  for  it  in  this. 

have    obnubilate,   nested,   parallel  (as    a  *  "  The  Religio  Medici  was  no  sooner 

verb),  fails  (failings),  uncurtain,  depraving  published   than  it  excited  the  attention 

(calumniating),    i.  50.     And  we  are  to  be  of  the  public  by  the  novelty  of  paradoxes, 

disgusted  with  such  vile  English,  or  pro-  the  dignity  of  sentiment,  the  quick  suc- 

perly  no  English,   for  the  sake   of   the  cession  of  images,  the  multitude  of  ab- 

elecpy  saws  of  a  trivial  morality.    Such  struse  allusions,  the  subtlety  of  disquisi- 

defects  are  not  compensated  by  the  better  tion,  and  the  strength  of  language."  — 

and  more  striking  thoughts  we  may  occa-  Life  of  Browne  (in  Johnson's  Works,  xii 

tionally  light  upon.    In  reading  Feltham,  275). 


152  SELDEN  — OSBORN.  PART  III 

tion  and  irresoluteness,  which  probably  represents  the  real 
state  of  his  mind.  His  paradoxes  do  not  seem  very  original ; 
nor  does  he  arrive  at  them  by  any  process  of  argument :  they 
are  more  like  traces  of  his  reading  casually  suggesting  them- 
selves, and  supported  by  his  own  ingenuity.  His  style  is  not 
flowing,  but  vigorous ;  his  choice  of  words  not  elegant,  and 
even  approaching  to  barbarism  as  English  phrase :  yet  there 
is  an  impressiveness,  an  air  of  reflection  and  sincerity,  in 
Browne's  writings,  which  redeem  many  of  their  faults.  His 
egotism  is  equal  to  that  of  Montaigne ;  but  with  this  difference, 
that  it  is  the  egotism  of  a  melancholy  mind,  which  generally 
becomes  unpleasing.  This  melancholy  temperament  is  cha- 
racteristic of  Browne.  "  Let's  talk  of  graves  and  worms  and 
epitaphs  "  seems  his  motto.  His  best-written  work,  the  Hy- 
driotaphia,  is  expressly  an  essay  on  sepulchral  urns ;  but  the 
same  taste  for  the  circumstances  of  mortality  leavens  also 
the  Religio  Medici. 

37.  The  thoughts  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  on  moral  prudence 
SeMen's       are  few,  but  precious.     And  some  of  the  bright  sal- 
Table  Talk.  lies  of  Selden  recorded  in  his  Table  Talk  are  of  the 
same  description,  though  the  book  is  too  miscellaneous  to  fall 
under  any  single  head  of  classification.     The  editor  of  this 
very  short  and  small  volume,  which  gives,  perhaps,  a  more 
exalted  notion  of  Selden's   natural  talents  than  any  of  his 
learned  writings,  requests  the  reader  to  distinguish  times,  and, 
"  in  his  fancy,  to  carry  along  with  him  the  when  and  the  why 
many  of  these  things  were  spoken."    This  intimation  accounts 
for  the  different  spirit  in  which  he  may  seem  to  combat  the 
follies  of  the  prelates  at  one  time,  and  of  the  Presbyterians  or 
fanatics   at   another.      These  sayings  are  not  always,  appa- 
rently, well  reported :  some  seem  to  have  been  misunderstood, 
and,  in  others,  the  limiting  clauses  to  have  been  forgotten. 
But,  on  the  whole,  they  are  full  of  vigor,  raciness,  and  a  kind 
of  scorn  of  the  half-learned,  far  less  rude,  but  more  cutting, 
than  that  of  Scaliger.     It  has  been  said  that  the  Table  Talk 
of  Selden  is  worth  all  the  Ana  of  the  Continent.     In  this  I 
should  be  disposed  to  concur ;  but  they  are  not  exactly  works 
of  the  same  class. 

38.  We  must  now  descend  much  lower,  and  could  find  little 
Osbom's      worth  remembering.  Osborn's  Advice  to  his  Son  may 
Advice  to     be  reckoned  among  the  moral  and  political  writings 
*"" Son       of  this  period.     It  is  not  very  far  above  mediocrity, 


CHAP.  17.  A]SDRE2B.  153 

aiid  contains  a  good  deal  that  is  commonplace,  ytt  with  a  con- 
siderable sprinkling  of  sound  sense  and  observation.  The 
style  is  rather  apophthegmatic,  though  by  no  means  more  SP 
than  was  then  usual. 

39.  A  few  books,  English  as  well  as  foreign,  are  purposely 
deferred  for  the  present.  I  am  rather  apprehensive  John 
that  I  shall  be  found  to  have  overlooked  some,  not  valentine 
unworthy  of  'notice.  One,  written  in  Latin  by  a 
German  writer,  has  struck  me  as  displaying  a  spirit  which 
may  claim  for  it  a  place  among  the  livelier  and  lighter  class, 
though  with  serious  intent,  of  moral  essays.  John  Valentine 
Andreae  was  a  man  above  his  age,  and  a  singular  contrast  to 
the  narrow  and  pedantic  herd  of  German  scholars  and  theo- 
logians. He  regarded  all  things  around  him  with  a  sarcastic 
but  benevolent  philosophy,  keen  in  exposing  the  errors  of 
mankind,  yet  only  for  the  sake  of  amending  them.  It  has 
been  supposed  by  many  that  he  invented  the  existence  of  the 
famous  Rosicrucian  society,  not  so  much  probably  for  the  sake 
of  mystification,  as  to  suggest  an  institution  so  praiseworthy 
and  philanthropic  as  he  delineated  for  the  imitation  of  man- 
kind. This,  however,  is  still  a  debated  problem  in  Germany.1 
But,  among  his  numerous  writings,  that  alone  of  which  I  know 
any  thing  is  entitled,  in  the  original  Latin,  Mythologiae  Chris- 
tian*, sive  Virtutum  et  Vitiorum  Vita?  Humanae  Imaginum, 
Libri  Tres  (Stra,sburg,  1618).  Herder  has  translated  a  part 
of  this  book  in  the  tifth  volume  of  his  Zerstreute  Blatter ; 
and  it  is  here  that  I  have  met  with  it.  Andrea?  wrote,  I 
believe,  solely  in  Latin ;  and  his  works  appear  to  be  scarce,  at 
least  in  England.  These  short  apologues,  which  Herder  has 
called  Parables,  are  written  with  uncommon  terseness  of  lan- 
guage, a  happy  and  original  vein  of  invention,  and  a  philoso- 
phy looking  down  on  common  life  without  ostentation  and 
without  passion.  He  came,  too,  before  Bacon ;  but  he  had 
learned  to  scorn  the  disputes  of  the  schools,  and  had  sought 
for  truth  with  an  entire  loye,  even  at  the  hands  of  Cardan 
and  Campanella.  I  will  give  a  specimen,  in  a  note,  of  the 
peculiar  manner  of  Andreae ;  but  my  translation  does  not  per- 
haps justice  to  that  of  Herder.  The  idea,  it  may  be  observed, 
is  now  become  more  trite.2 

1  Brncker,  iv.  735 ;   Biogr.  tTniv.,  art.     each  other  for  superiority,  and  the  voice* 

"  Andreae,"  et  alibi.  of  the  judges  were  divided.     The  men  of 

i  "  The  Pen  and  the  Sword  strove  with     learning    talked    much,  and    persuaded 


154  CHANGE  IN  THE  CHARACTER  PART 


SECT.  II.  —  ON  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Change  In  the  Character  of  Political  Writings  —  Bellenden  and  others  —  Patriarchal 
Theory  refuted  by  Suarez  —  Althusius  —  Political  Economy  of  Serra  —  Hobbes,  and 
Analysis  of  his  Political  Treatises. 

40.  THE  recluse  philosopher,  who,  like  Descartes  in  his 
country-house  near  Utrecht,  investigates  the  properties  of 
quantity,  or  the  operations  of  the  human  mind,  while  na- 
tions are  striving  for  conquest,  and  factions  for  ascendency, 
hears  that  tumultuous  uproar  but  as  the  dash  of  the  ocean 
waves  at  a  distance ;  and  it  may  even  serve,  like  music  that 
falls  upon  the  poet's  ear,  to  wake  in  him  some  new  train 
of  high  thought,  or,  at  the  least,  to  confirm  his  love  of  the 
absolute  and  the  eternal,  by  comparison  with  the  imperfec- 
tion and  error  that  beset  the  world.  Such  is  the  serene 
temple  of  philosophy,  which  the  Roman  poet  has  contrasted 
with  the  storm  and  the  battle,  with  the  passions  of  the 
great  and  the  many,  the  perpetual  struggle  of  man  against 
his  fellows.  But  if  he  who  might  dwell  on  this  vantage- 
ground  descends  into  the  plain,  and  takes  so  near  a  view 
of  the  world's  strife  that  he  sees  it  as  a  whole  very  imper- 
fectly, while  the  parts  to  which  he  approaches  are  magni- 
fied beyond  their  proportion ;  if  especially  he  mingles  with 
the  combat,  and  shares  its  hopes  and  its  perils,  though  in  many 
respects  he  may  know  more  than  those  who  keep  aloof,  — 
he  will  lose  something  of  that  faculty  of  equal  and  compre- 

ni.'inv  ;  the  men  of  arms  were  fierce,  and  Sword   was   stern,    implacable,    but  leal 

compelled  many  to  join  their  side.    Thus  compact  and  subtle  ;  so  that  on  both  sides 

nothing  could  be  determined :  it  followed  the     victory    remained    uncertain.      At 

that  both  were  left  to  fight  it  out,  and  length,    for    the   security    of   both,    the 

settle  their  dispute  in  single  combat.  common  weal  pronounced   that  both  in 

"  On  one  side,  books    rustled    in    the  turn  should  stand  by  her  side  and  bear 

libraries ;   on  the  other,  arms  rattled  in  with  each  other.      For  that   only   is    a 

the  arwenals  :  men  looked  on  in  hope  and  happy  country  where  the   Pen  and  the 

fear,  and  waited  the  end.  Sword  are  faithful  servants,  not  where 

"  The  Pen,  consecrated  to  truth,  was  either  governs  by  its  arbitrary  will  and 

notorious  for  much  falsehood ;  the  Sword,  passion." 

a  servant  of  God,  was  stained  with  inno-  If  the  touches  in  this  little  piece  are 

cent  blood:    both  hoped  for  the  aid  of  not  always  clearly  laid  on,   it    may   be 

Heaven  ;  both  found  its  wrath.  ascribed  as  much,  perhaps,  to  their  having 

"  The  State,  which  had  need  of  both,  passed   through  two  translations,  as  to 

and  disliked  the  manners  of  both,  would  the  fault  of  the  excellent  writer.    But, 

put  on  the  appearance  of  caring  for  the  in  this  early    age,  we    seldom  find  the 

weal  and  woe  of  neither.    The  Pen  was  entire  neatness  and  felicity  which  later 

weak,  but  quick,  glib,  well  exercised,  and  times  attained, 
rery   bold,   when  one  provoked  it.     The 


CHAP.  IV.  OF  POLITICAL  WRITINGS.  155 

hensive  vision  in  which  the  philosophical  temper  consists. 
Such  has  very  frequently,  or  more  or  less  perhaps  in  almost 
every  instance,  been  the  fate  of  the  writer  on  general  politics  : 
if  his  pen  has  not  heen  solely  employed  with  a  view  to  the 
questions  that  engage  attention  in  his  own  age,  it  has  gene- 
rally been  guided  in  a  certain  degree  by  regard  to  them. 

41.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  we  have  seen  that  notions 
of  popular  rights,  and  of  the  admissibility  of  sov-  Abandon- 
ereign  power  for  misconduct,  were  alternately  mentor 

•L  i      i     i         ii  T    •  i-  c     anti-mo- 

broached  by  the  two  great  religious  parties  of  narchieal 
Europe,  according  to  the  necessity  in  which  they  theories- 
stood  for  such  weapons  against  their  adversaries.  Passive 
obedience  was  preached  as  a  duty  by  the  victorious :  rebel- 
lion was  claimed  as  a  right  by  the  vanquished.  The  history 
of  France  and  England,  and  partly  of  other  countries,  was 
the  clew  to  these  politics.  But,  in  the  following  period,  a  more 
tranquil  state  of  public  opinion,  and  a  firmer  hand  upon  the 
reins  of  power,  put  an  end  to  such  books  as  those  of  Lan- 
guet,  Buchanan,  Rose,  and  Mariana.  The  last  of  these,  by 
the  vindication  of  tyrannicide,  in  his  treatise  De  Rege,  contri- 
buted to  bring  about  a  re-action  in  political  literature.  The 
Tesuits  in  France,  whom  Henry  IV.  was  inclined  to  favor, 
publicly  condemned  the  doctrine  of  Mariana  in  1606.  A  Book 
by  Becanus,  and  another  by  Suarez,  justifying  regicide,  were 
condemned  by  the  Parliament  of  Paris  in  1612.1  The  assas- 
sination, indeed,  of  Henry  IV.,  committed  by  one,  not  perhaps, 
metaphysically  speaking,  sane,  but  whose  aberration  of  intel- 
lect had  evidently  been  either  brought  on  or  nourished  by  the 
pernicious  theories  of  that  school,  created  such  an  abhorrence 
of  the  doctrine,  that  neither  the  Jesuits  nor  others  ventured 
afterwards  to  teach  it.  Those  also  who  magnified,  as  far  as 
circumstances  would  permit,  the  alleged  supremacy  of  the  see 
of  Rome  over  temporal  princes,  were  little  inclined  to  set  up, 
like  Mariana,  a  popular  sovereignty,  a  right  of  the  multitude 
not  emanating  from  the  church,  and  to  which  the  church 
itself  might  one  day  be  under  the  necessity  of  submitting. 
This  became,  therefore,  a  period  favorable  to  the  theories  of 
absolute  power ;  not  so  much  shown  by  means  of  their  posi- 
tive assertion  through  the  press,  as  by  the  silence  of  the 
press,  comparatively  speaking,  on  all  political  theories  what- 
ever 

i  Mezeray,  Hist,  de  la  Mfere  et  du  Fils. 


156  BELLENDEN.  PART  III. 

42.  The  political  writings  of  this  part  of  the  seventeenth 

century  assumed,  in  consequence,  more  of  an  his- 
uterature  torical,  or,  as  we  might  say,  a  statistical  character. 
historical  Learning  was  employed  in  systematical  analyses  of 

ancient  or  modern  forms  of  government,  in  disserta- 
tions explanatory  of  institutions,  in  copious  and  exact  state- 
ments of  the  true,  rather  than  arguments  upon  the  right  or 
the  expedient.  Some  of  the  very  numerous  works  of  Her- 
man Conringius,  a  professor  at  Helmstadt,  seem  to  fall  within 
this  description.  But  none  are  better  known  than  a  collec- 
tion, made  by  the  Elzevirs,  at  different  times  near  the  middle 
of  this  century,  containing  accounts,  chiefly  published  before, 
of  the  political  constitutions  of  European  commonwealths. 
This  collection,  which  is  in  volumes  of  the  smallest  size,  may 
be  called  for  distinction  the  Elzevir  Republics.  It  is  very 
useful  in  respect  of  the  knowledge  of  facts  it  imparts,  but 
rarely  contains  any  thing  of  a  philosophical  nature.  Statistical 
descriptions  of  countries  are  much  allied  to  these  last :  some, 
indeed,  are  included  in  the  Elzevir  series.  They  were  as  yet 
not  frequent ;  but  I  might  have  mentioned,  while  upon  the 
sixteenth  century,  one  of  the  earliest,  —  the  Description  of 
the  Low  Countries  by  Ludovico  Guicciardini,  brother  of  the 
historian. 

43.  Those,  however,  were  not  entirely  wanting  who  took  a 
Beiienden,   more  philosophical  view  of  the  social  relations  of 
De  statu.     mankind.      Among  these,  a  very  respectable  place 
should  be  assigned  to  a  Scotsman,  by  name  Beiienden,  whose 
treatise    De    Statu,  in   three  books,  is   dedicated   to  Prince 
Charles  in  1615.    The  first  of  these  books  is  entitled  De  Statu 
Prisci  Orbis  in  Religione,  Re  Politica  et  Literis ;   the  second, 
Ciceronis  Princeps,  sive  de   Statu  Principis  et  Imperil ;   the 
third,   Ciceronis   Consul,  Senator,  Senatusque  Romanus,  sive 
de  Statu  ReipublicaB  et  Urbis  Imperantis  Orbi.     The  first  two 
books  are,  in  a  general  sense,  political ;  the  last  relates  en- 
tirely to  the  Roman  polity,  but  builds  much  political  precept 
on  this.     Beiienden  seems  to  have  taken  a  more  comprehen- 
sive view  of  history  in  his  first  book,  and  to  have  reflected 
more  philosophically  on  it,  than  perhaps  any  one  had  done 
before ;  at  least,  I  do  not  remember  any  work  of  so  early  an  age 
which  reminds  me  so  much  of  Vico  and  the  Grandeur  et  De- 
cadence of  Montesquieu.     We  can  hardly  make  an  exception 
for  Bodin,  because  the  Scot  is  so  much  more  regularly  histori 


CHAP.  IV.  CAMPAXELLA  —  XAUDE'.  157 

cal,  and  so  much  more  concise.  The  first  book  contains  little 
more  than  forty  pages.  Bellenden's  learning  is  considerable, 
and  without  that  pedantry  of  quotation  which  makes  most 
books  of  the  age  intolerable.  The  latter  parts  have  less  ori- 
ginality and  reach  of  thought.  This  book  was  reprinted,  as 
is  well  known,  in  1787 ;  but  the  celebrated  preface  of  the 
editor  has  had  the  effect  of  eclipsing  the  original  author.  Parr 
was  constantly  read  and  talked  of;  Bellenden,  never. 

44.  The  Politics  of  Campanella  are  warped  by  a  desire  to 
please  the  court  of  Rome,  which  he  recommends  as  campanei- 
fit  to  enjoy  an  universal  monarchy,  at  least  by  su-  to'8  p°u 
preme  control;   and  observes,  with  some  acuteness,  that  no 
prince  had  been  able  to  obtain  an  universal  ascendant  over 
Christendom,  because  the  presiding  vigilance  of  the  holy  see 
has  regulated  their  mutual  contentions,  exalting  one  and  de- 
pressing another,  as  seemed  expedient  for  the  good  of  religion.1 
This  book  is  pregnant  with  deep  reflection  on  history :   it  is 
enriched,  perhaps,  by  the  study  of  Bodin,  but  is  much  more 
concise.     In  one  of  the  Dialogues  of  La  Mothe  le  Yayer,  we 
find  the  fallaev  of  some  general  maxims  in  politics   La  Mothe 
drawn  from  a  partial   induction   well   exposed,   by  leVayw- 
showing  the  instances  where  they  have  wholly  failed.     Though 
he  pays' high  compliments  to  Louis  XLTI.  and  to  Richelieu,  he 
speaks  freely  enough,  in  his  sceptical  way,   of  the   general 
advantages  of  monarchy. 

45.  Gabriel  Naude,  a  man   of  extensive  learning,   acute 
understanding,  and  many  good  qualities,  but  rather  Nand6-g 
lax  in  religious  and  moral  principle,  excited  some   ovups 
attention  by  a  very  small  volume,  entitled  Considera- 
tions sur  les  Coups  d'Etat,  which  he  wrote  while  young,  at 
Rome,  in  the  service  of  the  Cardinal  de  Bagne.     In  this,  he 
maintains  the  bold  contempt  of  justice  and  humanity  in  politi- 
cal emergencies  which  had  brought  disgrace  on  the  "  Prince  " 
of  Machiavel ;   blaming  those  who,  in  his  own  country,  had 
abandoned  the  defence   of  the  St.    Bartholomew   Massacre, 
The  book  is  in  general  heavy,  and  not   well   written;   but, 
coming  from  a  man  'of  cool  head,  clear  judgment,  and  con- 
siderable historical  knowledge,  it  contains  some  remarks  not 
unworthy  of  notice. 

i  "  XullnB  hactenus  Christiantu?  princep*  papa  prseest  illis,  et  disripat  erigitque  Ulo- 
mocarehiam  super  cunctos  Christianos  rum  conatus  prout  religion!  expedit  "— 
populOB  siU  eonserrare  potuit.  Quoniam  c.  8 


158  PATRIARCHAL  THEORY.  PART  HI. 

46.  The  ancient  philosophers,  the  civil  lawyers,  and  by  far 
Patriarchal  *ne  majority  of  later  writers,  had  derived  the  origin 
theory  of     of  government  from  some  agreement  of  the  commu- 
nity.     Bodin,   explicitly  rejecting   this   hypothesis, 

referred  it  to  violent  usurpation.  But  in  England,  about  tho 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  James,  a  different  theory  gained 
ground  with  the  church :  it  was  assumed,  for  it  did  not  admit 
of  proof,  that  a  patriarchal  authority  had  been  transferred  by 
primogeniture  to  the  heir-general  of  the  human  race ;  so  that 
kingdoms  were  but  enlarged  families;  and  an  indefeasible  right 
of  monarchy  was  attached  to  their  natural  chief,  which,  in 
consequence  of  the  impossibility  of  discovering  him,  devolved 
upon  the  representative  of  the  first  sovereign  who  could  be 
historically  proved  to  have  reigned  over  any  nation.  This 
had  not,  perhaps,  hitherto  been  maintained  at  length  in  any 
published  book,  but  will  be  found  to  have  been  taken  for 
granted  in  more  than  one.  It  was,  of  course,  in  favor  with 
James  I.,  who  had  a  very  strong  hereditary  title  ;  and  it  might 
seem  to  be  countenanced  by  the  fact  of  Highland  and  Irish 
clanship,  which  does  really  affect  to  rest  on  a  patriarchal 
basis. 

47.  This  theory  as  to  the  origin  of  political  society,  or  one 
Refuted  by  akin  to  it,  appears  to  have  been  espoused  by  some 
Buarez.        on  ^g  Continent.     Suarez,  in  the  second  book  of 
his  great  work  on  law,  observes,   in  a  remarkable  passage, 
that  certain  canonists  hold  civil  magistracy  to  have  been  con- 
ferred by  God  on  some  prince,  and  to  remain  always  in  his 
heirs  by  succession ;   but  "  that  such  an  opinion  has  neither 
authority  nor  foundation.     For  this  power,  by  its  very  nature, 
belongs  to  no  one  man,  but  to  a  multitude  of  men.     This  is  a 
certain  conclusion,  being  common  to  all  our  authorities,  as  we 
find  by  St.  Thomas,  by  the  civil  laws,  and  by  the  great  canon- 
ists and  casuists ;  all  of  whom  agree  that  the  prince  has  that 
power  of  law-giving  which  the  people  have  given  him.     And 
the  reason  is  evident,  since  all  men  are  born  equal,  and  con- 
sequently no  one  has  a  political  jurisdiction  over  another,  nor 
any  dominion ;  nor  can  we  give  any  reason  from  the  nature 
of  the  thing  why  one  man  should  govern  another  rather  than 
the  contrary.     It  is  true  that  one  might  allege  the  primacy 
which  Adam  at  his  creation  necessarily  possessed,  and  hence 
deduce  his  government  over  all  men,  and  suppose  that  to  be 
derived  by  eome  one,  either  through  primogenitary  descent, 


CHAP.  IV.  SUAEEZ.  159 

or  through  the  special  appointment  of  Adam  himself.  Thus 
Chrysostoin  has  said,  that  the  descent  of  all  men  from  Adam 
signifies  their  subordination  to  one  sovereign.  But  in  fact  we 
could  only  infer  Ifrom  the  creation  and  natural  origin  of  man- 
kind that  Adam  possessed  a  domestic  or  patriarchal  (aecono- 
micam),  not  a  political,  authority ;  for  he  had  power  over  his 
wife,  and  afterwards  a  paternal  power  over  his  sons  till  they 
were  emancipated ;  and  he  might  even,  in  course  of  time,  have 
servants  and  a  complete  family,  and  that  power  in  respect  of 
them  which  is  called  patriarchal.  But  after  families  began  to 
be  multiplied,  and  single  men  who  were  heads  of  families 
to  be  separated,  they  had  each  the  same  power  with  respect  to 
their  own  families.  Nor  did  political  power  begin  to  exist 
till  many  families  began  to  be  collected  into  one  entire  com- 
munity. Hence,  as  that  community  did  not  begin  by  Adam's 
creation,  nor  by  any  will  of  his,  but  by  that  of  all  who  formed 
it,  we  cannot  properly  say  that  Adam  had  naturally  a  political 
headship  in  such  a  society;  for  there  are  no  principles  of 
reason  from  which  this  could  be  inferred,  since,  by  the  law 
of  nature,  it  is  no  right  of  the  progenitor  to  be  even  king  of  his 
own  posterity.  And,  if  this  cannot  be  proved  by  the  princi- 
ples of  natural  law,  we  have  no  ground  for  asserting  that  God 
has  given  such  a  power  by  a  special  gift  or  providence,  inas- 
much as  we  have  no  revelation  or  Scripture  testimony  to  the 
purpose."1  So  clear,  brief,  and  dispassionate  a  refutation 
might  have  caused  our  English  divines,  who  became  very 
fond  of  this  patriarchal  theory,  to  blush  before  the  Jesuit  of 
Granada. 

48.  Suarez  maintains  it  to  be  of  the  essence  of  a  law,  that 
it  be  enacted  for  the  public  good.     An  unjust  law 

T  •     i      i_  •  2      T      His  opinion 

is  no  law,  and  does  not  bind  the  conscience.-     in  of^. 
this   he   breathes  the   spirit   of  Mariana  ;    but  he 
shuns  some  of  his  bolder  assertions.     He   denies   the  right 
of  rising  in  arms  against  a  tyrant,  unless  he  is  an  usurper ; 
and  though  he  is  strongly  for  preserving  the  concession  made 
by  the  kings  of  Spain  to  their  people,  that  no  taxes  shall  be 
levied  without  the  consent  of  the  Cortes,  does  not  agree  with 
those  who  lay  it  down  as  a  general  rule,  that  no  prince  can 
impose  taxes  on  his  people  by  his  own  will.3     Suarez  asserts 
the  direct  power  of  the  church  over  heretical  princes,  but 

i  Lib.  ii.  o.  2,  §  3.  *  Lib.  i.  c.  7 ;  and  lib.  iii.  o.  22.  *  Lib.  T.  o.  K. 


1GO  ALTHUSIUS— PARJ2US.  PART  III. 

denies  it  as  to  infidels.1  In  this  last  point,  as  has  been 
seen,  he  follows  the  most  respectable  authorities  of  his  na- 
tion. 

49.  Bayle  has  taken  notice  of  a  systematic  treatise  on 
Politics  by  John  Althusius,  a  native  of  Germany.  Of  this, 
I  have  only  seen  an  edition  published  at  Groningen  in  1615, 
and  dedicated  to  the  States  of  West  Friesland.  It  seems, 
however,  from  tlie  article  in  Bayle,  that  there  was  one  printed 
at  Herborn  in  1603.  Several  German  writers  inveigh  against 
this  work  as  full  of  seditious  principles,  inimical  to  every 
'government.  It  is  a  political  system,  taken  chiefly  from  pre- 
ceding authors,  and  very  freely  from  Bodin  ;  with  great 
learning,  but  not  very  profitable  to  read.  The  ep/tori,  as 
he  calls  them,  by  which  he  means  the  estates  of  a  kingdom, 
have  the  right  to  resist  a  tyrant  But  this  right  he  denies  tc 
the  private  citizen.  His  chapter  on  this  subject  is  written 
more  in  the  tone  of  the  sixteenth  than  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  which  indeed  had  scarcely  commenced.2  He  an- 
swers in  it  Albericus  Gentilis,  Barclay,  and  others  who  had 
contended  for  passive  obedience ;  not  failing  to  draw  support 
from  the  canonists  and  civilians  whom  he  quotes.  But  the 
strongest  passage  is  in  his  dedi6ation  to  the  States  of  Fries- 
land.  Here  he  declares  his  principle,  that  the  supreme  power 
or  sovereignty  (jus  majestatis)  *does  not  reside  in  the  chief 
magistrate,  but  in  the  people  themselves,  and  that  no  other 
is  proprietor  or  usufructuary  of  it ;  the  magistrate  being  the 
administrator  of  this  supreme  power,  but  not  its  owner,  nor 
entitled  to  use  it  for  his  benefit.  And  these  rights  of  sove- 
reignty are  so  much  confined  to  the  whole  community,  that 
they  can  no  more  alienate  them  to  another,  whether  they  will 
or  not,  than  a  man  can  transfer  his  own  life.3 

50.  Few,  even  among  the  Calvinists,  whose  form  of  gov- 
ernment was  in  some  cases  republican,  would,  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  have  approved  this  strong  language  of 
Althusius.  But  one  of  their  rioted  theologians,  Paraeus, 
incurred  the  censure  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  1 623,  for 
some  passages  in  his  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Ro- 
mans, which  seemed  to  impugn  their  orthodox  tenet  of  un- 

1  Lib.  iii.  c.  10.  agnosco.  Proprietarium  vero  et  usufruc- 

3  Cap.  38.  "  De  tyrannide  et  ejus  re-  tuariuin  majestittLs  nullum  aliuui  quam 

mediis."  populum  universum  in  corpus  uuum 

s  "  Aclniinistratorem,  procuratorem,gu-  symbioticum  ex  piuribus  minoribus  con- 

beiiatoreiu  juriuin  majestatis,  principein  sociatiouibua  cousociatum,"  &c. 


CHAI.  IV.  BACON.  161 

limited  submission.  He  merely  holds,  that  subjects,  when  not 
private  men,  but  inferior  magistrates,  may  defend  themselves, 
and  the  state,  and  the  true  religion,  even  by  arms  against  the 
sovereign,  under  certain  conditions ;  because  these  superior 
magistrates  are  themselves  responsible  to  the  laws  of  God 
and  of  the  state.1  It  was,  in  truth,'  impossible  to  deny 
the  right  of  resistance  in  such  cases  without  "  branding  the 
unsmirched  brow"  of  Protestantism  itself;  for  by  what 
other  means  had  the  reformed  religion  been  made  to  flour- 
ish in  Holland  and  Geneva,  or  in  Scotland  ?  But  in  Eng- 
land, where  it  had  been  planted  under  a  more  auspicious  star, 
there  was  little  occasion  to  seek  this  vindication  of  the  Pro- 
testant Church,  which  had  not,  in  the  legal  phrase,  come  in  by 
disseizin  of  the  state,  but  had  united  with  the  state  to  turn  out 
of  doors  its  predecessor.  That  some  of  the  Anglican  refu- 
gees under  Mary  were  ripe  enough  for  resistance,  of  even 
regicide,  has  been  seen  in  another  place  by  an  extract  from 
one  of  their  most  distinguished  prelates. 

51.  Bacon  ought  to  appear  as  a  prominent  name  in  political 
philosophy,  if  we  had  never  met  with  it  in  any  other. 
But  we  have  anticipated  much  of  his  praise  on  this 
score  :    and  it  is  sufficient  to  repeat  generally,  that,  on  such 
subjects,  he  is  the  most  sagacious  of  mankind.     It  would  be 
almost  ridiculous  to  descend  from  Bacon,  even  when  his  giant 
shadow  does  but  pass  over  our  scene,  to  the  feebler  class  of 
political  moralists,  such  as  Saavedra,  author  of  Idea  di  un 
Principe  Politico,  a  wretched  effort  of  Spain  in  her  degenera- 
cy ;  but  an  Italian  writer  must  not  be  neglected,  from  the 
remarkable  circumstance,  that  he  is  esteemed  one  of  the  first 
who  have  treated  the  science  of  political  economy.   Political 
It  must,  however,  be  understood,  that,  besides  what  economy, 
may  be  found  on  the  subject  in  the  ancients,  many  valuable 
observations  which   must  be   referred   to  political  economy 
occur  in  Bodin ;  that  the  Italians  had,  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, a  few  tracts  on  coinage  ;  that  Botero  touches  some  points 
of  the  science ;  and  that  in  England  there  were,  during  the 

1  "  Subditi  non  privati,  sed  in  magis-  phemias  ipsos  vel  subditos  alios  Yult 

tratu  inferior!  constituti,  adversus  supe-  cogere ;  3.  Cum  ipsis  atrox  infertur  in- 

riorem  magistratum  se  et  rempublicam  juria ;  4.  Si  aliter  incolumes  fortunis  vita 

et  ecclesiam  seu  veram  reiigionem  etiam  et  conscientia  esse  non  possint ;  5.  Ne 

armis  defendere  jure  possuut,  his  positis  prsetextu  religionis  aut  justitiae  aua  quae- 

couditionibus :  1.  Cuni  superior  magis-  rant;  6.  Servata  semper  e-xiiiKtig.  ct  mo. 

degenerat  in  tyrannum ;  2.  Aut  deramine  inculpata>  tutclse  juxta  leges." 

ad  mamfestain  idololatnam  atque  bias-  falsus  m  j^  ^  Roman.,  col.  1350. 

VOL!  in.  11 


162  SERRA.  PAEF  IIL 

same  age,  pamphlets  on  public  wealth,  especially  one  entitled 
A  Brief  Conceit  of  English  Policy.1 

52.  The  author  to  whom  we  allude  is  Antonio  Serra,  a 

native  of  Cosenza,  whose  short  treatise  on  the 
fhe'means  causes  which  may  render  ,gold  and  silver  abundant 
of  obtain-  jn  countries  that  have  no  mines  is  dedicated  to  the 
without  Count  de  Lemos,  "  from  the  prison  of  Vicaria,  this 

tenth  day  of  July,  1613."  It  has  hence  been 
inferred,  but  without  a  shadow  of  proof,  that  Serra  had  been 
engaged  in  the  conspiracy  of  his -fellow-citizen  Campanella, 
fourteen  years  before.  The  dedication  is  in  a  tone  of  great 
flattery,  but  has  no  allusion  to  the  cause  of  his  imprisonment, 
which  might  have  been  any  other.  He  proposes,  in  his  preface, 
not  to  discuss  political  government  in  general,  of  which  he 
thinks  that  the  ancients  have  treated  sufficiently,  if  we  well 
understood  their  works ;  and  still  less  to  speak  of  justice  and 
injustice,  the  civil  law  being  enough  for  this  ;  but  merely  what 
are  the  causes  that  render  a  country  destitute  of  mines  abun- 
dant in  gold  and  silver,  which  no  one  has  ever  considered, 
though  some  have  taken  narrow  views,  and  fancied  that  a  low 
rate  of  exchange  is  the  sole  means  of  enriching  a  country. 

53.  In  the  first  part   of  this  treatise,  Serra  divides  the 
His  causes    causes  of  wealth,  that  is,  of  abundance  of  money, 
of  wealth.    jnto  general  and  particular  accidents  (accidenti  com- 
muni  e  proprj) :  meaning,  by  the  former,  circumstances  which 
may  exist  in  any  country ;  by  the  latter,  such  as  are  peculiar 
to  some.     The  common  accidents  are  four,  —  abundance  of 
manufactures,  character  of  the  inhabitants,  extent  of  com- 
merce, and  wisdom  of  government     The  peculiar  are,  chiefly,* 
the  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  convenience  of  geographical  posi- 
tion.    Serra  prefers  manufactures  to  agriculture  :  one  of  his 
reasons  is  their  indefinite  capacity  of  multiplication  ;  for  no 
man,  whose  land  is  fully  cultivated  by  sowing  a  hundred  bush- 
els of  wheat,  can  sow  with  profit  a  hundred  and  fifty ;  but,  in 
manufactures,  he  may  not  only  double  the  produce,  but  do  this 
a  hundred  times  over,  and  that  with  less  proportion  of  ex- 
pense.    Though  this  is  now  evident,  it  is  perhaps  what  had 
not  been  much  remarked  before. 

1  This  bears  the  initials  of  W.  S.,  which  ctimstances  unnecessary  to  mention,  can- 
pome  have  idiotically  taken  for  William  not  produce  the  manuscript  authority  on 
Shakspeare.  I  have  some  reason  to  be-  which  this  opinion  is  founded.  It  has 
lieve  that  there  was  an  editi  >n  considerably  been  reprinted  more  than  once,  if  I  mi»- 
earlier  than  that  of  1584,  but,  from  cir-  take  not,  in  modern  times. 


OHAP.  IV.  HIS  PRAISE  OF  VENTCF-  163 

54.  Venice,  according  to  Serra,  held  the  first  place  as  a 
commercial  city,  not  only  in  Italy,  but  in  Europe ;     ins  praise 
"for  experience  demonstrates  that  all  the  merchan-    ofVenic«. 
dises  which  come  from  Asia  to  Europe  pass  through  Venice, 
and  thence  are  distributed  to  other  parts."     But,  as  this  must 
evidently  exclude  all  the  traffic  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
we  can  only  understand  Serra  to  mean  the  trade  with  the 
Levant.     It  is,  however,  worthy  of  observation,  that  we  are 
apt  to  fall  into  a  vulgar  error  in  supposing  that  Venice  was 
crushed,  or  even  materially  affected,  as  a  commercial  city,  by 
the  discoveries  of  the  Portuguese.1     She  was,  in  fact,  more 
opulent,  as  her  buildings   of  themselves  may  prove,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  than  in  any  preceding  age.     The  French 
trade  from  Marseilles  to  the  Levant,  which  began  later  to 
flourish,  was  what  impoverished  Venice,  rather  than  that  of 
Portugal  with  the  East  Indies.     This  republic  was  the  per- 
petual theme  of  admiration  with  the  Italians.     Serra  com- 
pares Naples  with  Venice :   one,  he  says,  exports  grain  to  a 
vast  amount,  the  other  imports  its  whole  subsistence  :  money 
is  valued  higher  at  Naples,  so  that  there  is  a  profit  in  bringing 
it  in,  —  its  export  is  forbidden ;  at  Venice  it  is  free  :  at  Naples 
the  public  revenues  are  expended  in  the  kingdom ;  at  Venice 
they  are  principally  hoarded.     Yet  Naples  is  poor,  and  Venice 
rich.     Such  is  the  effect  of  her  commerce  and  of  the  wisdom 
of  her  government,  which  is  always  uniform ;  while  in  king- 
doms, and  far  more  in  viceroyalties,  the  system  changes  with 
the  persons.     In  Venice  the  method  of  choosing  magistrates 
is  in  such  perfection,  that  no  one  can  come  in  by  corruption 
or  favor,  nor  can  any  one  rise  to  high  offices  who  has  not  been 
tried  in  the  lower. 

55.  All  causes  of  wealth,  except  those  he  has  enumerated, 
Serra  holds  to  be  subaltern  or  temporary :  thus  the  low  rate 
of  exchange  is  subject  to  the  common  accidents  of  commerce. 

1  [Perhaps  it  is  too  much  to  say,  that  years  after  the  voyage  of  Vasco  di  Gama. 
Venice  was  not  materially  affected  by  the  One  of  the  senators  recommended  his  col- 
Portuguese  commerce  with  India ;  when,  leagues  to  employ  their  money  in  indu- 
though  she  became  positively  richer  in  cing  the  Sultan  of  Egypt  to  obstruct  the 
the  sixteenth  century  than  before,  her  voyages  of  the  Portuguese  to  Calicut,  so 
progress  would  have  been  more  rapid  had  that  the  state  might  possess  again  the 
the  monopoly  of  the  spice-trade  remained  whole  commerce  in  spic«s  :  "  II  che  e  stato 
in  her  hands.  A  remarkable  proof  of  sin  qua  gran  parte  dclla  riechezza  nostra, 
the  apprehensions  which  the  discovery  e  '1  non  poter  piu  farlo,  fra  breve  dovri 
of  the  passage  by  the  Cape  excited  at  esser  cagione  della  nostra  poverti  e  delta 
Venice,  appears  by  a  letter  of  Luigi  da  nostra  rovina."  —  Lettere  di  L.  da  Porto, 
Porto,  author  of  the  novel  on  Romeo  and  1832,  vol.  ii.  p.  476.  —1847.] 
iuliet,  written  so  early  as  1509,  just  ten 


164  8ERRA  — HOBBES.  PARC  HI 

It  seems,  however,  to  have  been  a  theory  of  superficial 
LOW  rate  of  reasoncrs  on  public  wealth,  that  it  depended  on  the 
exchange  exchanges  far  more  than  is  really  the  case ;  and, 

notessen-  ,  ,  ,,   ,,.  j.-         o 

tiai  to  in  the  second  part  or  this  treatise,  oerra  opposes  a 
wealth.  particular  writer,  named  De  Santis,  who  had  ac- 
counted in  this  way  alone  for  abundance  of  money  in  a  state. 
Serra  thinks,  that  to  reduce  the  weight  of  coin  may  sometimes 
be  an  allowable  expedient,  and  better  than  to  raise  its  denomi- 
nation. The  difference  seems  not  very  important.  The  coin 
of  Naples  was  exhausted  by  the  revenues  of  absentee  proprie- 
tors, which  some  had  proposed  to  withhold,  —  a  measure  to 
which  Serra  justly  objects.  This  book  has  been  reprinted  at 
Milan  in  the  collection  of  Italian  economists,  and,  as  it  antici- 
pates the  principles  of  what  has  been  called  the  mercantile 
theory,  deserves  some  attention  in  following  the  progress  of 
opinion.  The  once  celebrated  treatise  of  Mun  —  England's 
Treasure  by  Foreign  Trade  —  was  written  before  1 640 ;  but, 
not  being  published  till  after  the  Restoration,  we  may  post- 
pone it  to  the  next  period. 

56.  Last  in  time  among  political  philosophers  before  the 
Hobbes  •  middle  of  the  century,  we  find  the  greatest  and  most, 
his  poiiti-  famous,  Thomas  Hobbes.  His  treatise  De  Give  was 

rorks'  printed  in  1 642  for  his  private  friends.  It  obtained, 
however,  a  considerable  circulation,  and  excited  some  ani- 
madversion. In  1647,  he  published  it  at  Amsterdam,  with 
notes  to  vindicate  and  explain  what  had  been  censured.  In 
1650,  an  English  treatise,  with  the  Latin  title,  De  Corpore 
Politico,  appeared  ;  and,  in  1651,  the  complete  system  of  his 
philosophy  was  given  to  the  world  in  the  Leviathan.  These 
three  works  bear  somewhat  the  same  relation  to  one  another 
that  the  Advancement  of  Learning  does  to  the  treatise  De 
Augmentis  Scientiarum :  they  are  in  effect  the  same ;  the 
same  order  of  subjects,  the  same  arguments,  and,  in  most 
places,  either  the  same  words,  or  such  variations  as  occurred 
to  the  second  thoughts  of  the  writer ;  but  much  is  more  copi- 
ously illustrated  and  more  clearly  put  in  the  latter  than  in  the 
former ;  while  much  also,  from  whatever  cause,  is  withdrawn, 
or  considerably  modified.  Whether  the  Leviathan  is  to  be 
reckoned  so  exclusively  his  last  thoughts  that  we  should  pre- 
sume him  to  have  retracted  the  passages  that  do  not  appear 
in  it,  is  what  every  one  must  determine  for  himself.  I  shall 
endeavor  to  present  a  comparative  analysis  of  the  three  trea- 
tises, with  some  preference  to  the  last. 


CHAP.  IV.  HOBBES.  165 

57.  Those,  he  begins  by  observing,  who  have  hitherto  writ- 
ten upon  civil  policy,  have  assumed  that  man  is  an  ^31^  Of 
animal  framed  for  society ;   as  if  nothing  else  were   MS  three 
required  for  the  institution  of  commonwealths  than 

that  men  should  agree  upon  some  terms  of  compact  which 
they  call  laws.  But  this  is  entirely  false.  That  men  do 
naturally  seek  each  other's  society,  he  admits,  by  a  note  in  the 
published  edition  of  De  Give ;  but  political  societies  are  not 
mere  meetings  of  men,  but  unions  founded  on  the  faith  of 
covenants.  Nor  does  the  desire  of  men  for  society  imply  that 
they  are  fit  for  it :  many  may  desire  it  who  will  not  readily 
submit  to  its  necessary  conditions.1  This  he  left  out  in  the 
two  other  treatises  ;  thinking  it,  perhaps,  too  great  a  concession 
to  admit  any  desire  of  society  in  man. 

58.  Nature  has  made  little  odds   among  men  of  mature 
age  as  to  strength  or  knowledge.     No  reason,  therefore,  can 
be  given  why  one  should,  by  any  intrinsic  superiority,  command 
others,  or  possess  more  than   they.     But   there   is    a   great 
difference  in  their  passions :   some  through  vainglory  seeking 
pre-eminence  over  their  fellow* ;  some  willing  to  allow  equality, 
but  not  to  lose  what  they  know  to  be  good  for  themselves. 
And  this  contest  can  only  be  decided  by  battle  showing  which 
is  the  stronger. 

59.  All  men  desire  to  obtain  good  and  to  avoid  evil,  espe- 
cially death.     Hence  they  have  a  natural  right  to  preserve 
their  own  lives  and  limbs,  and  to  use  all  means  necessary  for 
this  end.     Every  man  is  judge  for  himself  of  the  necessity  of 
the  means,  and  the  greatness  of  the  danger.     And  hence  he 
has  a  right  by  nature  to  all  things,  to  do  what  he  wills  to 
others,  to  possess  and  enjoy  all  he  can;  for  he  is  the  only 
judge  whether  they  tend  or  not  to  his   preservation.      But 
every  other  man  has  the  same  right.     Hence  there  can  be  no 
injury  towards  another  in  a  state  of  nature.     Not  that  in  such 
a  state  a  man  may  not  sin  against  God,  or  transgress  the  laws 
of  nature;2   but  injury,  which  is  doing   any  thing   without 
right,  implies  human  laws  that  limit  right. 

1  "  Societates  autem  civiles  non  sunt  Deum,  aut  leges  naturales  violare  impos- 

meri  congressus,  sed  foedera,  quibus  fa-  sibile  sit.  Nam  injustitia  erga  homines 

ciendis  fides  et  pacta  necessaria  sunt.  .  .  .  supponit  leges  humanas,  qxiales  in  statu 

Alia  res  est  appetere  alia  e^e  capacem.  natural!  nullse  sunt.:1  —  De  Give,  c.  1. 

Appetunt  enim  illi  qui  tainen  conditiones  This  he  left  out  in  the  later  treatises.  He 

eequas.  sine  quibus  sooietas  esse  non  potest,  says  afterward  (sect.  28),  '  •  Omne  damnum 

sccipere  per  superbiam  non  dignantur."  hotuini  illatum  legis  naturalis  vioiati* 

*  "Non  quod  in  tali  statu  peccare  in  atque  in  Deum  injuria  est." 


166  HOBBES.  PART  HI 

60.  Thus  the  state  of  man  in  natural  liberty  is  a  state  of 
war,  —  a  war  of  every  man  against  every  man,  wherein  t he- 
notions   of  right  and  wrong,  justice  and  injustice,  have  no 
place.     Irresistible  might  gives  of  itself  right,  which  is  no- 
thing but  the  physical  liberty  of  using  our  power  as  we  will 
for  our  own  preservation  and  what  we  deem  conducive  to  it. 
But  as,  through  the  equality  of  natural  powers,  no  man  pos- 
sesses this  irresistible  superiority,  this  state  of  universal  war 
is  contrary  to  his  own  good,  which  he  necessarily  must  desire. 
Hence  his  reason  dictates  that  he  should  seek  peace  as  far  as 
he  can,  and  strengthen  himself  by  all  the  helps  of  war  against 
those  with  whom  he  cannot  have  peace.     This,  then,  is  the  first 
fundamental  law  of  nature ;   for  a  law  of  nature  is  nothing 
else  than  a  rule  or  precept  found  out  by  reason  for  the  avoid- 
ing what  may  be  destructive  to  our  life. 

61.  From  this  primary  rule  another  follows,  —  that  a  man 
should  be  willing,  when  others  are  so  too,  as  far  forth  as  for 
peace  and  defence  of  himself  he  shall  think  it  necessary,  to 
lay  down  his  right  to  all  things,  and  to  be  contented  with  so 
much  liberty  against  other  men  as  he  would  allow  to  other 
men  against  himself.     This  may  be  done  by  renouncing  his 
right  to  any  thing,  which  leaves  it  open  to  all,  or  by  transfer- 
ring it  specially  to  another.     Some  rights,  indeed,  as  those  to 
his  life  and  limbs,  are  inalienable ;  and  no  man  lays  down  the 
right  of  resisting  those  who  attack  them.     But,  in  general,  he 
is  bound  not  to  hinder  those  to  whom  he  has  granted  or  aban- 
doned his  own  right  from  availing  themselves  of  it :  and  such 
hinderance  is  injustice  or  injury ;  that  is,  it  is  sine  jure,  his 
jus  being  already  gone.     Such  injury  may  be  compared  to 
absurdity  in  argument,  being  in  contradiction  to  what  he  has 
already  done,  as  an  absurd  proposition  is  in  contradiction  to 
what  the  speaker  has  already  allowed. 

62.  The  next  law  of  nature,  according  to  Hobbes,  is  that 
men  should  fulfil  their  covenants.     What  contracts  and  cove- 
nants  are,  he   explains   in   the   usual  manner.      None  can 
covenant  with  God,  unless  by  special  revelation :    therefore 
vows   are  not  binding,  nor  do  oaths  add  any  thing  to  the 
swearer's  obligation.     But  covenants   entered   into  by  fear, 
he  holds  to  be  binding  in  a  state  of  nature,  though  they  may 
be  annulled  by  the  law.     That  the  observance  of  justice,  that 
is,  of  our  covenants,  is  never  against  reason,  Hobbes  labors 
to  prove ;  for,  if  ever  its  violation  may  have  turned  out  sue- 


CHAT.  IV.  HOBBES.  167 

cessful,  this,  being  contrary  to  probable  expectation,  ought  not 
to  influence  us.  "  That  which  gives  to  human  actions  the 
relish  of  justice  is  a  certain  nobleness  or  gallantness  of  cou- 
rage rarely  found ;  by  which  a  man  scorns  to  be  beholden  for 
the  contentment  of  his  life  to  fraud,  or  breach  of  promise." 1 
A  short  gleam  of  something  above  the  creeping  selfishness  of 
his  ordinary  morality ! 

63.  He  then  enumerates  many  other  laws  of  nature,  such 
as  gratitude,  complaisance,  equity,  all  subordinate  to  the  main 
one  of  preserving  peace  by  the  limitation  of  the  natural  right, 
as  he  supposes,  to  usurp  all.     These  laws  are  immutable  and 
eternal :  the  science  of  them  is  the  only  true  science  of  moral 
philosophy ;   for  that  is  nothing  but  the  science  of  what  is 
good  and  evil  in  the  conversation  and  society  of  mankind.     In 
a  state  of  nature,  private  appetite  is  the  measure  of  good  and 
evil.     But  all  men  agree  that  peace  is  good ;  and  therefore 
the  means  of  peace,  which  are  the'moral  virtues  or  laws  of 
nature,  are  good  also,  and  their  contraries  evil.     These  laws 
of  nature  are  not  properly  called  such,  but  conclusions  of 
reason  as  to  what  should  be  done  or  abstained  from ;    they 
are  but  theorems  concerning  what  conduces  to  conservation 
and  defence ;  whereas  law  is  strictly  the  word  of  him  that  by 
right  has  command  over  others.     But,  so  far  as  these  are 
enacted  by  God  in  Scripture,  they  are  truly  laws. 

64.  These  laws  of  nature,  being  contrary  to  our  natural 
passions,  are  but  words  of  no  strength  to  secure   any  one 
without  a  controlling  power.     For,  till  such  a  power  is  erected, 
every  man  will  rely  on  his  own  force  and  skill.     Nor  will  the 
conjunction  of  a  few  men  or  families  be  sufficient  for  security  ; 
nor  that  of  a  great  multitude,  guided  by  their  own  particular 
judgments  and  appetites.     For  if  we  could  suppose  a  great 
multitude  of  men  to  consent  in  the  observation  of  justice  and 
other  laws  of  nature,  without  a  common  power  to  keep  them 
all  in  awe,  we  might  as  well  suppose  all  mankind  to  do  the 
same ;  and  then  there  neither  would  be,  nor  need  to  be,  any 
civil  government  or  commonwealth  at  all,  because  there  would 
be  peace  without  subjection.2     Hence  it  becomes  necessary 
to  confer  all  their  power  on  one  man,  or  assembly  of  men,  to 
bear  their  person  or  represent  them ;  so  that  every  one  shall 
own  himself  author  of  what  shall  be  done  by  such  representa- 
tive.    It  is  a  covenant  of  each  with  each,  that  he  will  be 

i  Leviathan,  c.  15  '  Id.,  c.  17. 


1 68  HOBBE9.  PAET  III 

governed  in  such  a  manner,  if  the  other  will  agree  to  the 
same.  This  is  the  generation  of  the  great  Leviathan,  or 
mortal  God,  to  whom,  under  the  immortal  God,  we  owe  our 
peace  and  defence.  In  him  consists  the  essence  of  the  com- 
monwealth, which  is  one  person ;  of  whose  acts  a  great 
multitude,  hy  mutual  covenant,  have  made  themselves  the 
authors. 

65.  This  person  (including,  of  course,  an  assembly  as  well 
as  an  individual)  is  the  sovereign,  and  possesses  sovereign 
power ;  and  such  power  may  spring  from  agreement  or  from 
force.     A  commonwealth,  by  agreement  or  institution,  is  when 
a  multitude  do  agree  and  covenant,  one  with  another,  that 
whatever  the  major  part  shall  agree  to  represent  them  shall 
be  the  representative  of  them  all.     After  this  has  been  done, 
the  subjects  cannot  change  their  government  without  its  con- 
sent ;  being  bound  by  mutual  covenant  to  own  its  actions.     If 
any  one  man  should  dissent,  the  rest  would  break  their  cove- 
nant with  him.     But  there  is  no  covenant  with  the  sovereign. 
He  cannot  have  covenanted  with  the  whole  multitude  as  one 
party,  because  it  has  no  collective  existence  till  the  common- 
wealth is  formed ;  nor  with  each  man  separately,  because  the 
acts  of  the  sovereign  are  no  longer  his  sole  acts,  but  those  of 
the  society,  including  him  who  would  complain  of  the  breach. 
Nor  can  the  sovereign  act  unjustly  towards  a  subject ;  for  he 
who  acts  by  another's  authority  cannot  be  guilty  of  injustice 
towards  him :   he  may,  it  is  true,  commit  iniquity,  that  is, 
violate  the  laws  of  God  and  nature,  but  not  injury. 

66.  The  sovereign  is  necessarily  judge  of  all  proper  means 
of  defence,  of  what  doctrines  shall  be  taught,  of  all  disputes 
and  complaints,  of  rewards  and  punishments,  of  war  and  peace 
with  neighboring  commonwealths,  and  even  of  what  shall  be 
held  by  each  subject  in  property.     Property,  he  admits  in  one 
place,  existed  in  families  before  the  institution  of  civil  society ; 
but  between  different  families  there  was  no  meum  and  tuum. 
These  are  by  the  law  and  command  of  the  sovereign ;    ami 
hence,  though  every  subject  may  have  a  right  of  property 
against  his  fellow,  he  can  have  none  against  the  sovereign. 
These  rights  are  incommunicable,  and  inseparable  from  the 
sovereign  power  :  there  are  others  of  minor  importance,  which 
he  may  alienate  ;  but,  if  any  one  of  the  former  is  taken  away 
from  him,  he  ceases  to  be  truly  sovereign. 

67.  The  sovereign  power  cannot  be  limited  nor  divided 


CHAP.  IV.  HOBBES.  169 

Hence  tl  ere  can  be  but  three  simple  forms  of  commonwealth, 
—  monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy.  The  first  he  great- 
ly prefers.  The  king  has  no  private  interest  apart  from  the 
people,  whose  wealth,  honor,  security  from  enemies,  internal 
tranquillity,  are  evidently  for  his  own  good.  But,  in  the  other 
forms,  each  man  may  have  a  private  advantage  to  seek.  In 
popular  assemblies,  there  is  always  an  aristocracy  of  orators, 
interrupted  sometimes  by  the  temporary  monarchy  of  one 
orator.  And  though  a  king  may  deprive  a  man  of  all  he 
possesses  to  enrich  a  flatterer  or  favorite,  so  may  also  a  demo- 
cratic assembly,  where  there  may  be  as  many  Neroes  as 
orators,  each  with  the  whole  power  of  the  people  he  gov- 
erns. And  those  orators  are  usually  more  powerful  to  hurt 
others  than  to  save  them.  A  king  may  receive  counsel  of 
whom  he  will ;  an  assembly,  from  those  only  who  have  a  right 
to  belong  to  it ;  nor  can  their  counsel  be  secret.  They  are 
also  more  inconstant  both  from  passion  and  from  their  num- 
bers ;  the  absence  of  a  few  often  undoing  all  that  had  been 
done  before.  A  king  cannot  disagree  with  himself;  but  an 
assembly  may  do  so,  even  to  producing  civil  war. 

68.  An  elective  or  limited  king  is  not  the  sovereign,  but 
the  sovereign's  minister ;   nor  can  there  be  a  perfect  form  of 
government  where  the  present  ruler  has  not  power  to  dispose 
of  the  succession.     His  power,  therefore,  is  wholly  without 
bounds ;    and  correlative  must  be  the  people's  obligation  to 
obey.      Unquestionably    there    are    risks    of   mischiefs    and 
inconveniences  attending  a  monarchy :    but   these    are    less 
than    in    the    other   forms ;    and  the  worst   of  them  is  not 
comparable  to  those  of  civil  war,  or  the  anarchy  of  a  state 
of  nature,  to   which   the   dissolution  of  the  commonwealth 
would  reduce  us. 

69.  In  the  exercise  of  government,  the  sovereign  is  to  be 
guided  by  one  maxim,  which  contains  all   his  duty :    Sahis 
populi  supremo,  lex.     And  in  this  is  to  be  reckoned  not  only 
the  conservation  of  life,  but  all  that  renders  it  happy.     For 
this  is  the  end  for  which  men  entered  into  civil  society,  that 
they  might  enjoy  as  much  happiness  as  human  nature  can 
attain.     It  would  be"  therefore  a  violation  of  the  law  of  na- 
ture, and  of  the  trust  reposed  in  them,  if  sovereigns  did  not 
study,  as  far  as  by  their  power  it  may  be,  that  their  subjects 
should  be  furnished  with  every  thing  necessary,  not  for  life 
alone,  but  for  the  delights  of  life.     And  even  those  who  have 


170  HOBBES.  PART  III. 

acquired  empire  by  conquest  must  desire  to  have  men  fit  to 
serve  them,  and  should,  in  consistency  with  their  own  aims, 
endeavor  to  provide  what  will  increase  their  strength  and 
courage.  Taxes,  in  the  opinion  of  Hobbes,  should  be  laid 
equally,  and  rather  on  expenditure  than  on  revenue :  the 
prince  should  promote  agriculture,  fisheries,  and  commerce, 
and,  in  general,  whatever  makes  men  happy  and  prosperous. 
Many  just  reflections  on  the  art  of  government  are  uttered  by 
Hobbes,  especially  as  to  the  inexpediency  of  interfering  too 
much  with  personal  liberty.  No  man,  he  observes  in  another 
place,  is  so  far  free  as  to  be  exempted  from  the  sovereign 
power ;  but,  if  liberty  consists  in  the  paucity  of  restraining 
laws,  he  sees  not  why  this  may  not  be  had  in  monarchy  as 
well  as  in  a  popular  government.  The  dream  of  so  many 
political  writers,  a  wise  and  just  despotism,  is  pictured  by 
Hobbes  as  the  perfection  of  political  society. 

70.  But  most  of  all  is  the  sovereign  to  be  free  from  any 
limitation  by  the  power  of  the  priesthood.  This  is  chiefly  to  be 
dreaded,  that  he  should  command  any  thing  under  the  penalty 
of  death,  and  the  clergy  forbid  it  under  the  penalty  of  dam- 
nation. The  pretensions  of-the  see  of  Rome,  of  some  bishops 
at  home,  and  those  of  even  the  lowest  citizens,  to  judge  for 
themselves  and  determine  upon  public  religion,  are  dangerous 
to  the  state,  and  the  frequent  cause  of  wars.  The  sovereign, 
therefore,  is  alone  to  judge  whether  religions  are  safely  to  be 
admitted  or  not.  And  it  may  be  urged,  that  princes  are 
bound  to  cause  such  doctrine  as  they  think  conducive  to  their 
subjects'  salvation  to  be  taught,  forbidding  every  other,  and 
that  they  cannot  do  otherwise  in  conscience.  This,  however,  he 
does  not  absolutely  determine.  But  he  is  clearly  of  opinion, 
that,  though  it  is  not  the  case  where  the  prince  is  infidel,1  the 
head  of  the  state,  in  a  Christian  commonwealth,  is  head  also 
of  the  church ;  that  he,  rather  than  any  ecclesiastics,  is  the 
judge  of  doctrines ;  that  a  church  is  the  same  as  a  common- 
wealth under  the  same  sovereign,  the  component  members 
of  each  being  precisely  the  same.  This  is  not  very  far 
removed  from  the  doctrine  of  Hooker,  and  still  less  from 
the  practice  of  Henry  VIII. 


1  "  Imperantibus  autem  non  Christianis  bus  vero,  hoc  est,  In  us  quse  pertinent  ad 

iu  temporalibus  quidem  omnibus  eandem  modum  colendi  Dei  sequenda  est  ecclesia 

deberi  obedientiam  etiam  a  cive  Christia-  aliqua  Christianorum." — De  Cive,  c.  18, 

no  extra  controversial!!  est  •  in  spiritual!-  §  3. 


CHAP.  IV.  HOBBES.  171 

71.  The  second  class  of  commonwealths,  those  by  forci- 
ble acquisition,  differ  more  in  origin  than  in  their  subsequent 
character  from  such  as  he  has  been  discussing.  The  rights 
of  sovereignty  are  the  same  in  both.  Dominion  is  acquired 
by  generation  or  by  conquest;  the  one  parental,  the  other 
despotical.  Parental  power,  however,  he  derives  not  so  much 
from  having  given  birth  to,  as  from  having  preserved,  the 
child  ;  and,  with  originality  and  acuteness,  thinks  it  belongs  by 
nature  to  the  mother  rather  than  to  the  father,  except  where 
there  is  some  contract  between  the  parties  to  the  contrary. 
The  act  of  maintenance  and  nourishment  conveys,  as  he  sup- 
poses, an  unlimited  power  over  the  child,  extending  to  life 
and  death ;  and  there  can  be  no  state  of  nature  between 
parent  and  child.  In  his  notion  of  patriarchal  authority,  he 
seems  to  go  as  far  as  Filmer ;  but,  more  acute  than  Filmer, 
perceives  that  it  affords  no  firm  basis  for  political  society. 
By  conquest,  and  sparing  the  lives  of  the  vanquished,  they 
become  slaves;  and,  so  long  as  they  are  held  in  bodily 
confinement,  there  is  no  covenant  between  them  and  their 
master ;  but,  in  obtaining  corporal  liberty,  they  expressly  or 
tacitly  covenant  to  obey  him  as  their  lord  and  sovereign. 

7-2.  The  political  philosophy  of  Hobbes  had  much  to  fix 
the  attention  of  the  world,  and  to  create  a  sect  of  admir- 
ing partisans.  The  circumstances  of  the  time,  and  the 
character  of  the  passing  generation,  no  doubt,  powerfully 
conspired  with  its  intrinsic  qualities;  but  a  system  so  ori- 
ginal, so  intrepid,  so  disdainful  of  any  appeal  but  to  the 
common  reason  and  common  interests  of  mankind,  so  un- 
affectedly and  perspicuously  proposed,  could  at  no  time 
have  failed  of  success.  From  the  two  rival  theories,  —  on 
the  one  hand,  that  of  original  compact  between  the  prince 
and  people,  derived  from  antiquity,  and  sanctioned  by  the 
authority  of  fathers  and  schoolmen;  on  the  other,  that  of 
an  absolute  patriarchal  transmuted  into  an  absolute  regal 
power,  which  had  become  prevalent  among  part  of  the 
English  clergy,  —  Hobbes  took  as  much  as  might  conciliate 
a  hearing  from  both,  an  original  covenant  of  the  multitude 
and  an  unlimited  authority  of  the  sovereign.  But  he  had 
a  substantial  advantage  over  both  these  parties,  and  espe- 
cially the  latter,  in  establishing  the  happiness  of  the^  com- 
munity as  the  sole  final  cause  of  government,  both  in  its 
institution  and  its  continuance ;  the  great  fundamental  theo- 


172  HOBBES.  PART  TIL 

rem  upon  which  all  political  science  depends,  bat  sometimes 
obscured  or  lost  in  the  pedantry  of  theoretical  writers.1 

73.  In  the  positive  system  of  Hobbes  we  find  less  cause 
for  praise.  We  fall  in,  at  the  very  outset,  with  a  strange 
and  indefensible  paradox,  —  the  natural  equality  of  human 
capacities,  —  which  he  seems  to  have  adopted  rather  in  op- 
position to  Aristotle's  notion  of  a  natural  right  in  some 
men  to  govern,  founded  on  their  superior  qualities,  than 
because  it  was  at  all  requisite  for  his  own  theory.  By 
extending  this  alleged  equality,  or  slightness  of  difference, 
among  men,  to  physical  strength,  he  has  more  evidently 
shown  its  incompatibility  with  experience.  If  superiority 
in  mere  strength  has  not  often  been  the  source  of  political 
power,  it  is  for  two  reasons :  first,  because,  though  there  is 
a  vast  interval  between  the  strongest  man  and  the  weakest, 
there  is  generally  not  much  between  the  former  and  him 
who  comes  next  in  vigor ;  and,  secondly,  because  physical 
strength  is  multiplied  by  the  aggregation  of  individuals,  so 
that  the  stronger  few  may  be  overpowered  by  the  weaker 
many ;  while  in  mental  capacity,  comprehending  acquired 
skill  and  habit  as  well  as  natural  genius  and  disposition, 
both  the  degrees  of  excellence  are  removed  by  a  wider 
distance ;  and,  what  is  still  more  important,  the  aggregation 
of  the  powers  of  individuals  does  not  regularly  and  cer- 
tainly augment  the  value  of  the  whole.  That  the  real  or 
acknowledged  superiority  of  one  man  to  his  fellows  has  been 

1  [It  was  imputed  to  Hobbes  by  some  Creditur ;   adversis  in  partibus  esse  vide- 

of  the  royalists,  that  he  had  endeavored  bar ; 

to  conciliate  Cromwell,  and  make  his  own  Perpetuo  jubeor  regis  abesse  doiuo. 

residence  in  England  secure,  by  the  un-  

limited  doctrine  of  submission  to  power  In  patriam  rideo  tutelae  non  bene  certus, 

that    he    lays    down.     This   is    said    by  Sed  nullo  potui  tutior  esse  loco. 

Clarendon ;  but  I  had  been  accustomed  to  

look  on  it  as  an  unfounded  conjecture.  Londinum  veniens,  ne  clam  venisse  vide- 

In   the  curious    poem,    however,    which  rer, 

Hobbes  wrote  at  the  age  of  eighty-four,  Concilio    status     [sic]     conciliaiidus 

on  his  own  life,  we  have  some  confirms-  eram. 

tion  of  it :  —  

Omnia  miles  erat,  committier  omnia  et  unl 

"  Militat  ille  liber  nunc  regibus  omnibus,  Poscebat ;    tacite   Cromwell  is    unus 

et  qui  erat 

Nomine  sub  quovis  regia  jura  tenent."  Regia  conanti  calamo  defendere  jura, 

Quis  vitio  vertat  regia  jura  petens  ? " 
lie  owns  that  he  was  accused,  to  the 

king,  of  favoring  Cromwell.  The  last  two  lines  were  an  admission 

of  the  charge.    This  poem  is  worth  read- 

"  Nam  regi  accuser  falso,  quasi  facta  pro-  ing,  and  is,  of  course,  an  extraordinary 

barem  performance  at  eighty-four     Hobbes  (Sil 

luijiia  Cromwelli,  jus  scelerique  da-  W.  Molesworth's  edition),  vol.  i.  p.  xciii. 

rem.  1853.J 


CHAP.  IV.  ORIGIN  OF  CFVIL  SOCIETY.  173 

the  ordinary  source  of  power,  is  sufficiently  evident  from 
•what  we  daily  see  among  children,  and  must,  it  should 
seem,  be  admitted  by  all  who  derive  civil  authority  from 
choice,  or  even  from  conquest ;  and  therefore  is  to  be  in- 
ferred from  the  very. system  of  Hobbes. 

74.  That  a  state  of  nature  is  a  state  of  war;  that  men, 
or  at  least  a  very  large  proportion  of  men,  employ  force  of 
every  kind  in  seizing  to  themselves  what  is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  others,  —  is  a  proposition  for  which  Hobbes  incurred 
as  much  obloquy  as  for  any  one  in  his  writings ;   yet  it  is 
one  not  easy  to  controvert.     But,  soon  after  the  publication 
of  the  Leviathan,    a   dislike    of  the    Calvinistic  scheme    of 
universal  depravity,  as  well  as  of  his  own,  led  many  con- 
siderable men    into  the  opposite    extreme  of   elevating   too 
much  the  dignity  of  human  nature ;   if  by  that  term  they 
meant,  and  in  no  other  sense  could  it  be  applicable  to  this 
question,  the  real  practical  character  of  the  majority  of  the 
species.      Certainly  the   sociableness  of  man  is  as  much  a 
part  of  his  nature  as  his  selfishness :    but  whether  this  pro- 
pensity to   society  would  necessarily  or  naturally  have   led 
to  the  institution  of  political  communities,  may  not  be  very 
clear ;   while   we   have  proof  enough  in  historical  traditions, 
and    in  what  we  observe  of    savage  nations,   that    mutual 
defence  by  mutual  concession  —  the  common  agreement  not 
to    attack    the    possessions    of    each    other,    or   to    permit 
strangers  to  do  so  —  has  been  the  true  basis,  the  final  aim, 
of  those  institutions,  be  they  more  or  less  complex,  to  which 
we  give  the  appellation  of  commonwealths. 

75.  In   developing,  therefore,  the   origin  of  civil  society, 
Hobbes,  though  not  essentially  differing  from  his  predeces- 
sors, has  placed  the  truth  in  a  fuller  light.     It  does  not  seem 
equally  clear,  that  his  own  theory  of  a  mutual  covenant  be- 
tween the  members  of  an  unanimous  multitude  to  become  one 
people,  and  to  be  represented,  in  all  time  to  come,  by  such 
a  sovereign  government  as  the  majority  should  determine, 
affords  a  satisfactory  groundwork  for  the  rights  of  political 
society.     It  is,  in  the  first  place,  too  hypothetical  as  a  fact. 
That  such  an  agreement  may  have  been  sometimes  made  by 
independent  families,  in  the  first  coming-together  of  commu- 
nities, it  would  be  presumptuous  to  deny  :   it  carries  upon  the 
face  of  it  no  improbability,  except  as  to  the  design  of  binding 
posterity,  which  seems  too  refined  for  such  a  state  of  mankind 


174  HOBBES.  PARI  111. 

as  we  must  suppose ;  but  it  is  surely  possible  to  account  for 
the  general  fact  of  civil  government  in  a  simpler  way;  and 
what  is  most  simple,  though  not  always  true,  is,  on  the 
first  appearance,  most  probable.  If  we  merely  suppose  an 
agreement,  unanimous  of  course  in  those  who  concur  in  it,  to 
be  governed  by  one  man,  or  by  one  council,  promising  that 
they  shall  wield  the  force  of  the  whole  against  any  one  who 
shall  contravene  their  commands  issued  for  the  public  good, 
the  foundation  is  as  well  laid,  and  the  commonwealth  as  firmly 
established,  as  by  the  double  process  of  a  mutual  covenant  to 
constitute  a  people,  and  a  popular  determination  to  constitute 
a  government.  It  is  true  that  Hobbes  distinguishes  a  com- 
monwealth by  institution,  which  he  supposes  to  be  founded  on 
this  unanimous  consent,  from  one  by  acquisition,  for  which 
force  alone  is  required.  But  as  the  force  of  one  man  goes  but 
a  little  way  towards  compelling  the  obedience  of  others,  so 
as  to  gain  the  name  of  sovereign  power,  unless  it  is  aided 
by  the  force  of  many  who  voluntarily  conspire  to  its  ends,  this 
sort  of  commonwealth  by  conquest  will  be  found  to  involve 
the  previous  institution  of  the  more  peaceable  kind. 

76.  This  theory  of  a  mutual  covenant  is  defective  also  in  a 
most  essential  point.     It  furnishes  no  adequate  basis  for  any 
commonwealth  beyond  the  lives  of  those  who  established  it. 
The  right,  indeed,  of  men  to  bind  their  children,  and  through 
them  a  late  posterity,  is  sometimes  asserted  by  Hobbes,  but  in 
a  very  transient  manner,  and  as  if  he  was  aware  of  the  weak- 
ness of  his  ground.     It  might  be  inquired,  whether  the  force 
on  which  alone  he  rests  the  obligation  of  children  to  obey  can 
give  any  right  beyond  its  own  continuance ;  whether  the  absur- 
dity he   imputes   to  those  who  do  not   stand   by  their  own 
engagements  is  imputable  to*such  as  disregard  the  covenants 
of  their  forefathers ;   whether,   in  short,  any  law  of  nature 
requires  our  obedience  to  a  government  we   deem  hurtful, 
because,  in  a  distant  age,  a  multitude  whom  we  cannot  trace 
bestowed  unlimited  power  on  some   unknown   persons   from 
whom  that  government  pretends  to  derive  its  succession. 

77.  A  better  ground  for  the  subsisting  rights  of  his  Levia- 
than is  sometimes  suggested,  though  faintly,  by  Hobbes  him- 
self: "  If  one  refuse  to  stand  to  what  the  major  part  shall  or- 
dain, or  make  protestation  against  any  of  their  decrees,  he  does 
contrary  to  his  covenant,  and  therefore  unjustly ;  and  whether 
he  be  of  the  congregation  or  not,  whether  his  consent  be  asked 


CHAP.  IV.  ORIGIN  OF  CIVIL  SOCIETY.  175 

or  not,  he  must  either  submit  to  their  decrees,  or  be  left  in  the 
condition  of  war  he  was  in  before,  wherein  he  might  without 
injustice  be  destroyed  by  any  man  whatsoever."1  This  re- 
newal of  the  state  of  war,  which  is  the  state  of  nature ;  this 
denial  of  the  possibility  of  doing  an  injury  to  any  one  who 
does  not  obey  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth,  —  is  enough  to 
silence  the  question  why  we  are  obliged  still  to  obey.  The 
established  government,  and  those  who  maintain  it,  being 
strong  enough  to  wage  war  against  gainsayers,  give  them  the 
option  of  incurring  the  consequences  of  such  warfare,  or  of 
complying  with  the  laws.  But  it  seems  to  be  a  corollary  from 
this,  that  the  stronger  part  of  a  commonwealth,  which  may 
not  always  be  the  majority,  have  not  only  a  right  to  despise 
the  wishes,  but  the  interests,  of  dissentients.  Thus,  the  more 
we  scrutinize  the  theories  of  Hobbes,  the  more  there  appears 
a  deficiency  of  that  which  only  a  higher  tone  of  moral  senti- 
ment can  give, — a  security  for  ourselves  against  the  appetites 
of  others,  and  for  them  against  our  own.  But  it  may  be 
remarked,  that  his  supposition  of  a  state  of  war,  not  as  a  pei*- 
manent  state  of  nature,  but  as  just  self-defence,  is  perhaps 
the  best  footing  on  which  we  can  place  the  right  to  inflict 
severe,  and  especially  capital,  punishment  upon  offenders 
against  the  law. 

78.  The  positions  so  dogmatically  laid  down  as  to  the  im- 
possibility of  mixing  different  sorts  of  government,  were,  even 
in  the  days  of  Hobbes,  contradicted  by  experience.  Several 
republics  had  lasted  for  ages  under  a  mixed  aristocracy  and 
democracy;  and  there  had  surely  been  sufficient  evidence  that 
a  limited  monarchy  might  exist,  though,  in  the  revolution  of 
ages,  it  might,  one  way  or  other,  pass  into  some  new  type 
of  polity.  And  these  prejudices  in  favor  of  absolute  power 
are  rendered  more  dangerous  by  paradoxes  unusual  for  an 
Englishman,  even  in  those  days  of  high  prerogative  when 
Hobbes  began  to  write,  —  that  the  subject  has  no  property 
relatively  to  the  sovereign  ;  and,  what  is  the  fundamental  error 
of  his  whole  system,  that  nothing  done  by  the  prince  can  be 
injurious  to  any  one  else.  This  is  accompanied  by  the  other 
portents  of  Hobbism  scattered  through  these  treatises,  espe- 
cially the  Leviathan,  that  the  distinctions  of  right  and  wrong, 
moral  good  and  evil,  are  made  by  the  laws ;  that  no  man  can 
do  amiss  who  obeys  the  sovereign  authority;  that,  though  pri- 

*  Lev.,  c.  18. 


17G  ROMAN  JURISPRUDENCE.  PAHT  HI. 

vate  belief  is  of  necessity  beyond  the  prince's  control,  it  is 
according  to  his  will,  and  in  no  other  way,  that  we  must  wor- 
ship God. 

79.  The  political  system  of  Hobbes,  like  his  moral  system, 
of  which,  in  fact,  it  is  only  a  portion,  sears  up  the  heart. 
It  takes  away  the  sense  of  wrong,  that  has  consoled  the  wise 
and  good  in  their  dangers,  the  proud  appeal  of  innocence 
under  oppression,  like  that  of  Prometheus  to  the  elements, 
uttered  to  the  witnessing  world,  to  coming  ages,  to  the  just 
ear  of  Heaven.  It  confounds  the  principles  of  moral  appro- 
bation, the  notions  of  good  and  ill  desert,  in  a  servile  idola- 
try of  the  monstrous  Leviathan  it  creates;  and,  after  sacrificing 
all  right  at  the  altar  of  power,  denies  to  the  Omnipotent  the 
prerogative  of  dictating  the  laws  of  his  own  worship. 


SECTION  HE. 

Roman  Jurisprudence — Grotius  on  the  Laws  of  War  and  Peace — Analysis  of  this 
Work  —  Defence  of  it  against  some  Strictures. 

80.  IN  the  Roman  jurisprudence,  we  do  not  find  such  a 
civil  jurists  cluster  of  eminent  men  during  this  period  as  in 
of  this  pe-  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  it  would,  of  course, 
be  out  of  our  province  to  search  for  names  little 
now  remembered,  perhaps,  even  in  forensic  practice.  Many 
of  the  writings  of  Fabre  of  Savoy,  who  has  been  mentioned 
in  the  present  volume,  belong  to  the  first  years  of  this  century. 
Farinacci,  or  Farinaceus,  a  lawyer  of  Rome,  obtained  a  cele- 
brity, which,  after  a  long  duration,  has  given  way  in  the 
progress  of  legal  studies,  less  directed  than  formerly  towards 
a  superfluous  erudition.1  But  the  work  of  Menochius,  De 
Prassumptionibus,  or,  as  we  should  express  it,  on  the  rules  of 
evidence,  is  said  to  have  lost  none  of  its  usefulness,  even 
since  the  decline  of  the  civil  law  in  France.2  No  book,  per- 
haps, belonging  to  this  period,  is  so  generally  known  as  the 
Commentaries  of  Vinriius  on  the  Institutes,  which,  as  far  as  I 
know,  has  not  been  superseded  by  any  of  later  date.  Con- 
ringius  of  Helmstadt  may  be  reckoned,  in  some  measure, 

1  Biogr.  UniT.  »  Id. 


CHAP.  IV.       GKOTIUS  — DE  JUKE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  177 

among  the  writers  on  jurisprudence,  though  chiefly  in  the 
line  of  historical  illustration.  The  Elementa  Juris  Civilis, 
by  Zouch,  is  a  mere  epitome,  but  neatly  executed,  of  the 
principal  heads  of  the  Roman  law,  and  nearly  in  its  own 
words.  Arthur  Duck,  another  Englishman,  has  been  praised, 
even  by  foreigners,  for  a  succinct  and  learned,  though  ele- 
mentary and  popular,  treatise  on  the  use  and  authority  of  the 
civil  law  in  different  countries  of  Europe.  This  little  book 
is  not  disagreeably  written;  but  it  is  not,  of  course,  from 
England  that  much  could  be  contributed  towards  Roman 

O 

jurisprudence. 

81.  The  larger  principles  of  jurisprudence,  which  link  that 
science  with  general  morals,  and  especially  such  as   suarez  on 
relate  to  the  intercourse  of  nations,  were  not  left  law8' 
untouched  in  the  great  work  of  Suarez  on  laws.     I  have  not, 
however,  made  myself  particularly  acquainted  with  this  por- 
tion of  his  large  volume.     Spain  appears  to  have  been  the 
country  in  which  these    questions  were    originally  discussed 
upon   principles   broader   than   precedent,   as  well  as    upon 
precedents  themselves ;    and  Suarez,  from  the  general  com- 
prehensiveness of  his  views  in  legislation  and  ethics,  is  likely 
to  have  said  well  whatever  he  may  have  said  on  the  subject 
of  international   law.     But   it   does    not  appear  that  he  is 
much  quoted  by  later  writers. 

82.  The  name  of  Suarez  is  obscure  in  comparison  of  one 
who  soon  came  forward  in  the  great  field  of  natu-  Grotiugi  D,, 
ral  jurisprudence.     This  was  Hugo  Grotius,  whose  JureBeiu 
famous  work,  De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis,  was  published 

at  Paris  in  1625.  It  may  be  reckoned  a  proof  of  the  extraor- 
dinary diligence,  as  well  as  quickness  of  parts,  which  distin- 
guished this  writer,  that  it  had  occupied  a  very  short  part  of 
his  life.  He  first  mentions,  in  a  letter  to  the  younger  Thua- 
nus  in  August,  1623,  that  he  was  employed  in  examining  the 
principal  questions  which  belong  to  the  law  of  nations.1  In 
the  same  year,  he  recommends  the  study  of  that  law  to  another 
of  his  correspondents,  in  such  terms  as  bespeak  his  own  atten- 
tion to  it.2  According  to  one  of  his  letters  to  Gassendi,  quoted 
by  Stewart,  the  scheme  was  suggested  to  him  by  Peiresc. 

1  "  Versor  in  examinandis  controversiis  Hi.,  chap,  ii.),  but  from  one  antecedently 

praecipuis  qua  ad  jus  gentium  pertinent."  published  in   1648,    and  entitled   Grotii 

—  Epist.  75.    This  is  not  from  the  folio  EpLstolas  ad  Gallos. 

collection  of  his  epistles,  so  often  quoted  *  "  Hoc  gpatio  exacto,  nihil  restat  quod 

ha  a  preceding  chapter  of  this  work  (part  tibi    aeque   commendem   atque  stadium 

VOL.  in.  12 


178  GEOTIUS.     .  PART  m. 

83.  I(  is  acknowledged  by  every  one,  that  the  publication 
Successor  °f  this  treatise  made  an  epoch  in  the  philosophical, 
this  work,  aj^j  almost,  we  might  say,  in  the  political,  history  of 
Europe.  Those  who  sought  a  guide  to  their  own  conscience 
or  that  of  others,  those  who  dispensed  justice,  those  who  ap- 
pealed to  the  public  sense  of  right  in  the  intercourse  of 
nations,  had  recourse  to  its  copious  pages  for  what  might 
direct  or  justify  their  actions.  Within  thirty  or  forty  years 
from  its  publication,  we  find  the  work  of  Grotius  generally 
received  as  authority  by  professors  of  the  Continental  univer- 
sities, and  deemed  necessary  for  the  student  of  civil  law,  at 
least  in  the  Protestant  countries  of  Europe.  In  England, 
from  the  difference  of  laws  and  from  some  other  causes  which 
might  be  assigned,  the  influence  of  Grotius  was  far  slower, 
and  even,  ultimately,  much  less  general.  He  was,  however, 
treated  with  great  respect  as  the  founder  of  the  modern  law  of 
nations,  which  is  distinguished  from  what  formerly  bore  that 
name  by  its  more  continual  reference  to  that  of  nature.  But, 
when  a  book  is  little  read,  it  is  easily  misrepresented  ;  and  as 
a  new  school  of  philosophers  rose  up,  averse  to  much  of  the 
principles  of  their  predecessors,  but,  above  all  things,  to  their 
tediousness,  it  became  the  fashion  not  so  much  to  dispute  the 
tenets  of  Grotius,  as  to  set  aside  his  whole  work,  among  the 
barbarous  and  obsolete  schemes  of  ignorant  ages.  For  this 
purpose,  various  charges  have  been  alleged  against  it  by  men 
of  deserved  eminence,  not,  in  my  opinion,  very  candidly,  or 
with  much  real  knowledge  of  its  contents.  They  have  had, 
however,  the  natural  effect  of  creating  a  prejudice,  which, 
from  the  sort  of  oblivion  fallen  upon  the  book,  is  not  likely  to 
die  away.  I  shall,  therefore,  not  think  myself  performing 
an  useless  task  in  giving  an  analysis  of  the  treatise  De 
Jure  Belli  et  Pacis ;  so  that  the  reader,  having  seen  I'm- 
himself  what  it  is,  may  not  stand  in  need  of  any  argu- 

juris,  non  illius  privati,  ex  quo  leguleii  et  parte  secundse  partis  libri,   quern   Sum- 

rabulae  victitant,  sed  gentium  ac  public! ;  main  Theologise  inscripsit ;  prsesertim  ubi 

quam  prapstabilem  scientiam  Cicero  TO-  de  justitia  agit  ac  de  legibus.     Usum  i>ro- 

cans  consistere  ait  in  foederibus,  pactio-  pius  roonstrabunt  1'andectae,  libro  primo 

nibus,  conditionibus  populorum,  regum,  atque  ultimo ;   et  codex  Justinianeus.  li- 

nationum,  in  omni  denique  jure  beUI  et  bro  primo    et   tribus  postremis.      No-tri 

pacis.    Hujus  juris  principia  quomodo  ex  temporis  juris  consulti  pauci  juris  gentium 

morali  philosophia  petenda  sunt,    inon-  ac   publici   controversial    attigere,   eoque 

Btrare  poterunt  Platonis  ac  Ciceronis  de  magis  eminent,  qui  id  fecere,  Vasquius, 

legihus  liber.    Sed  Platonis  suiumas  ali-  Hottomannus.  Gentilis.'' — Epist.  xvi.  This 

quas  legisse  Buffecerit.    Neque  pceniteat  passage  is  useful  in  showing  the   views 

ex  scholastic-Is  Thomam   Aquinatern,    si  Grotius  himself  entertained  as  to  the  snb- 

*xm  perlegere,  saltern  iuspicere  secunda  ject  and  groundwork  of  his  treatise. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  179 

ments  or  testimony  to  refute  those  who  have  represented 
it  as  it  is  not. 

84.  The  book  may  be  considered  as  nearly  original,  in  its 
general  platform,  as  any  work  of  man,  in  an  ad-   Tt8  origi. 
vanced  stage  of  civilization  and  learning,  can  be.     It  naiity. 

is  more  so,  perhaps,  than  those  of  Montesquieu  and  Smith. 
No  one  had  before  gone  to  the  foundations  of  international 
law  so  as  to  raise  a  complete  and  consistent  superstructure  ; 
few  had  handled  even  separate  parts,  or  laid  down  any  satis- 
factory rules  concerning  it.  Grotius  enumerates  a  few  pre- 
ceding writers,  especially  Ayala  and  Albericus  Gentilis ;  but 
does  not  mention  Soto  in  this  place.  Gentilis,  he  says,  is 
wont,  in  determining  controverted  questions,  to  follow  either 
a  few  precedents  not  always  of  the  best  description,  or  even 
the  authority  of  modern  lawyers,  in  their  answers  to  cases, 
many  of  which  are  written  with  more  regard  to  what  the 
consulting  parties  desire,  than  to  what  real  justice  and  equity 
demand. 

85.  The  motive  assigned  for  this  undertaking  is  the  noblest. 
"  I  saw,"  he  says,  "  in  the  whole  Christian  world,  a  Its  motive 
license  of  fighting,  at  which  even  barbarians  might  and  object. 
blush  ;  wars  begun  on  trifling  pretexts,  or  none  at  all,  and  car- 
ried on  without  reverence  for  any  divine  or  human  law,  as  if 
that  one  declaration  of  war  let  loose  every  crime."     The  sight 
of  such  a  monstrous  state  of  things  had  induced  some,  like 
Erasmus,  to  deny  the  lawfulness  of  any  war  to  a  Christian. 
But  this  extreme,  as  he  justly  observes,  is  rather  pernicious 
than  otherwise  ;  for,  when  a  tenet  so  paradoxical  and  imprac- 
ticable is  maintained,  it  begets  a  prejudice  against  the  more 
temperate  course  which  he  prepares  to  indicate.     "  Let,  there- 
fore," he  says  afterwards,  "  the  laws  be  silent  in  the  midst  of 
arms  ;  but  those  laws  only  which  belong  to  peace,  the  laws 
of  civil  life  and  public  tribunals,  not  such  as  are  eternal,  and 
fitted  for  all  seasons,  unwritten  laws  of  nature,  which  subsist 
in  what  the  ancient  form  of  the  Romans  denominated  '  a  pure 
and  holy  war.' " 1 

86.  "  I  have  employed,  in  confirmation  of  this  natural  and 
national  law,  the  testimonies  of  philosophers,  of  his-  His  autno 
torians,  of  poets,  lastly  even  of  orators  :  not  that  we   rities 
should  indiscriminately  rely  upon  them ;  for  they  are  apt  to 

1  "  Eas  res  pure  pioque  duello  repetundas  censeo."     It  was  a  case  prodigiously 
frequent  in  the  opinion  of  the  Romans. 


180  GROTIUS.  PAPT  ILL 

say  what  may  serve  their  party,  their  subject,  or  their  cause  ; 
but  because,  when  many  at  different  times  and  places  affirm 
the  same  thing  for  certain,  we  may  refer  this  unanimity  to 
some  general  cause,  which,  in  such  questions  as  these,  can  be 
no  other  than  either  a  right  deduction  from  some  natural  prin 
ciple  or  some  common  agreement.  The  former  of  these  de- 
notes the  law  of  nature ;  the  latter,  that  of  nations  :  the 
difference  whereof  must  be  understood,  not  by  the  language 
of  these  testimonies,  for  writers  are  very  prone  to  confound 
the  two  words,  but  from  the  nature  of  the  subject.  For  what- 
ever cannot  be  clearly  deduced  from  true  premises,  and  yet 
appears  to  have  been  generally  admitted,  must  have  had  its 
origin  in  free  consent.  .  .  .  The  sentences  of  poets  and 
orators  have  less  weight  than  those  of  history ;  and  we  often 
make  use  of  them,  not  so  much  to  corroborate  what  we  say, 
as  to  throw  a  kind  of  ornament  over  it."  "  I  have  abstained," 
he  adds  afterwards,  "  from  all  that  belongs  to  a  different  sub- 
ject, as  what  is  expedient  to  be  done ;  since  this  has  its  own 
science,  that  of  politics,  which  Aristotle  has  rightly  treated 
by  not  intermingling  any  thing  extraneous  to  it ;  while  Bodin 
has  confounded  that  science  with  this  which  we  are  about  to 
treat.  If  we  sometimes  allude  to  utility,  it  is  but  in  passing, 
and  distinguishing  it  from  the  question  of  justice." l 

87.  Grotius  derives  the  origin  of  natural  law  from  the 
Foundation  sociable  character  of  mankind.  "  Among  things  com- 
of  natural  mon  to  mankind  is  the  desire  of  society  ;  that  is,  not 
of  every  kind  of  society,  but  of  one  that  is  peaceable 
and  ordered  according  to  the  capacities  of  his  nature  with 
others  of  his  species.  Even  in  children,  before  all  instruction, 
a  propensity  to  do  good  to  others  displays  itself,  just  as  pity  in 
that  age  is  a  spontaneous  affection."  We  perceive  by  this  re- 
mark, that  Grotius  looked  beyond  the  merely  rational  basis  of 
natural  law  to  the  moral  constitution  of  human  nature.  The 
conservation  of  such  a  sociable  life  is  the  source  of  that  law 
which  is  strictly  called  natural ;  which  comprehends,  in  the  first 
place,  the  abstaining  from  all  that  belongs  to  others,  and  the 
restitution  of  it  (if  by  any  means  in  our  possession),  the  fulfil- 
ment of  promises,  the  reparation  of  injury,  and  the  right  of  hu- 
man punishment.  In  a  secondary  sense,  natural  law  extends  to 
prudence,  temperance,  and  fortitude,  as  being  suitable  to  caan'a 
nature.  And,  in  a  similar  lax  sense,  we  have  that  kind  of  jus- 

i  "  Prolegomena  in  librum  de  Jure  Belli." 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  181 


tice  itself  called  distributive  (ttavepjnKJjf),  which  prefers  a  better 
man  to  a  worser  a  relation  to  a  stranger,  the  poorer  man  to  a 
richer,  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the  party  and  the 
case.1  And  this  natural  law  is  properly  defined  "  the  dictate 
of  right  reason,  pointing  out  a  moral  guilt  or  rectitude  to  be 
inherent  in  any  action,  on  account  of  its  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement with  our  rational  and  social  nature  ;  and  conse- 
quently that  such  an  action  is  either  forbidden  or  enjoined  by 
God,  the  author  of  nature."2  It  is  so  immutable,  that  God 
himself  cannot  alter  it  ;  a  position  which  he  afterwards  limits 
by  a  restriction  we  have  seen  in  Suarez,  that  if  God  com- 
mand any  one  to  be  killed,  or  his  goods  to  be  taken,  this 
would  not  render  murder  or  theft  lawful,  but,  being  com- 
manded by  the  Lord  of  life  and  all  things,  it  would  cease  to 
be  murder  or  theft.  This  seems  little  better  than  a  sophism 
unworthy  of  Grotius  ;  but  he  meant  to  distinguish  between  an 
abrogation  of  the  law  of  nature,  and  a  dispensation  with  it  in 
a  particular  instance.  The  original  position,  in  fact,  is  not 
stated  with  sufficient  precision,  or  on  a  right  principle. 

88.  Voluntary  or  positive  law  is  either  human  or  revealed. 
The   former   is    either   that   of   civil    communities,     Positive 
which  are  assemblages  of  freemen,  living  in  society    law- 

for  the  sake  of  laws  and  common  utility  ;  or  that  of  nations, 
which  derives  its  obligation  from  the  consent  of  all  or  many 
nations  :  a  law  which  is  to  be  proved,  like  all  unwritten  law, 
by  continual  usage  and  the  testimony  of  the  learned.  The 
revealed  law  he  divides  in  the  usual  manner,  but  holds  that 
no  part  of  the  Mosaic,  so  far  as  it  is  strictly  a  law,  is  at  pre- 
sent binding  upon  us.  But  much  of  it  is  confirmed  by  the 
Christian  Scriptures,  and  much  is  also  obligatory  by  the  law 
of  nature.  This  last  law  is  to  be  applied,  a  priori,  by  the 
conformity  of  the  act  in  question  to  the  natural  and  social 
nature  of  man  ;  a  posteriori,  by  the  consent  of  mankind  :  the 
latter  argument,  however,  not  being  conclusive,  but  highly 
probable,  when  the  agreement  is  found  in  all,  or  in  all  the 
more  civilized  nations.3 

89.  Perfect  rights,  after  the  manner  of  the  jurists,  he  dis- 
tinguishes from  imperfect.     The  former  are  called  sua,  our 

1  Id..  §  6-10.  turpitudinem  aut  necessitatem  moralem, 

2  "Jus  naturale   est    dictatum    rectae  ac  consequenter  ab  auctore  naturae  Deo 
rationis,    iudicans    actui  alicui,   ex  ejus  talem  actum  aut  vetari  aut  praecipi  "  —  • 
convenientia  aut  disconvenientia  cum  ipsa  L.  i.  c.  i.  §  10. 

natura  rationali  ac  sociali,  inesse  moralem        8  Lib.  i.  c.  1. 


182  GROTIUS.  PART  III. 

own,  properly  speaking,   the   objects   of  what    they  styled 

.  commutative  justice :  the  latter  are  denominated  fit- 
Perfect  and  .        .  J   .      . 

imperfect  nesses  (aptitudines),  such  as  equity,  gratitude,  and 
nghcs.  domestic  affection  prescribe,  but  which  are  only  the 
objects  of  distributive  or  equitable  justice.  This  distinction  is 
of  the  highest  importance  in  the  immediate  subject  of  the 
work  of  Grotius ;  since  it  is  agreed  on  all  hands  that  no  law 
gives  a  remedy  for  the  denial  of  these ;  nor  can  we  justly,  in  a 
state  of  nature,  have  recourse  to  arms  in  order  to  enforce 
them.1 

90.  War,  however,  as  he  now  proceeds  to  show,  is  not  ab- 
Lawfui        solutely  unlawful  either  by  the  law  of  nature  or  that 
cases  of       of  nations,  or  of  revelation.     The  proof  is,  as  usual 

with  Grotius,  very  diffuse ;  his  work  being,  in  fact, 
a  magazine  of  arguments  and  examples  with  rather  a  supere- 
rogatory profusion.2  But  the  Anabaptist  and  Quaker  super- 
stition has  prevailed  enough  to  render  some  of  his  refutation 
not  unnecessary.  After  dividing  war  into  public  and  private, 
and  showing  that  the  establishment  of  civil  justice  does  not 
universally  put  an  end  to  the  right  of  private  war  (since  cases 
may  arise  when  the  magistrate  cannot  be  waited  for,  and 
others  where  his  interference  cannot  be  obtained),  he  shows 
that  the  public  war  may  be  either  solemn  and  regular  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  nations,  or  less  regular  on  a  sudden  emer- 
gency of  self-defence  ;  classing  also  under  the  latter  any  war 
which  magistrates  not  sovereign  may  in  peculiar  circumstances 
levy.8  And  this  leads  him  to  inquire  what  constitutes  sove- 
reignty ;  defining,  after  setting  aside  other  descriptions,  that 
power  to  be  sovereign  whose  acts  cannot  be  invalidated  at  the 
pleasure  of  any  other  human  authority,  except  one,  which,  as 
in  the  case  of  a  successor,  has  exactly  the  same  sovereignty 
as  itself.4 

91.  Grotius  rejects  the  opinion  of  those  who  hold  the  peo 
Resistance   P^e  to  De  everywhere  sovereign,  so  that  they  may 
by  subjects  restrain  and  punish  kings  for  missrovernment ;  quot- 

unlawftil.       .  A        -,-        c       ±t       •  M-i-x        ft  • 

ing  many  authorities  for  the  irresponsibility  ot  kings. 
Here  he  lays  down  the  principles  of  non-resistance,  which  he 
more  fully  inculcates  in  the  next  chapter.  But  this  is  done 
with  many  distinctions  as  to  the  nature  of  the  principality, 

»  Lib.  I.  c.  1.  »  C.  2.  »  C.  8. 

*  "Summa  potestas  ilia  dicitur,  cujus  actus  altering  juri  non  subjacet   ita  nt 
altering  voluntatis  humanee  arbitrio  irriti  possint  reddi." —  §  7. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACTS.  183 

which  may  be  held  by  very  different  conditions.  He  speaks 
of  patrimonial  kingdoms,  which,  as  he  supposes,  may  be 
alienated  like  an  inheritance.  But,  where  the  government  can 
be  traced  to  popular  consent,  he  owns  that  this  power  of  alien- 
ation should  not  be  presumed  to  be  comprised  in  the  grant 
Those,  he  says,  are  much  deceived,  who  think,  that,  in  king- 
doms where  the  consent  of  a  senate  or  other  body  is  required 
for  new  laws,  the  sovereignty  itself  is  divided;  for  these 
restrictions  must  be  understood  to  have  been  imposed  by  the 
prince  on  his  own  will,  lest  he  should  be  entrapped  into  some- 
thing contrary  to  his  deliberate  intention.1  Among  other 
things  in  this  chapter,  he  determines  that  neither  an  unequal 
alliance  (that  is,  where  one  party  retains  great  advantages)  nor 
a  feudal  homage  takes  away  the  character  of  sovereignty 
from  the  inferior ;  so  far,  at  least,  as  authority  over  his  own 
subjects  is  concerned. 

92.  In  the  next  chapter,  Grotius  dwells  more  at  length  on 
the  alleged  right  of  subjects  to  resist  their  governor*,  and 
altogether  repels  it,  with  the  exception  of  strict  self-defence, 
or  the  improbable  case  of  a  hostile  spirit,  on  the  prince's  part, 
extending  to  the  destruction  of  his  people.  Barclay,  the 
opponent  of  Buchanan  and  the  Jesuits,  had  admitted  the  right 
of  resistance  against  enormous  cruelty.  If  the  king  has  abdi- 
cated the  government,  or  manifestly  relinquished  it,  he  may, 
after  a  time,  be  considered  merely  a  private  person.  But 
mere  negligence  in  government  is  by  no  means  to  be  reckoned 
a  relinquishment.2  And  he  also  observes,  that  if  the  sove- 
reignty be  divided  between  a  king  and  part  of  his  subjects, 
or  the'  whole,  he  may  be  resisted  by  force  in  usurping  their 
share,  because  he  is  no  longer  sovereign  as  to  that ;  which 
he  holds  to  be  the  case,  even  if  the  right  of  war  be  in  him ; 
since  that  must  be  understood  of  a  foreign  war,  and  it  could 
not  be  maintained  that  those  who  partake  the  sovereignty  have 
not  the  right  to  defend  it ;  in  which  predicament  a  king  may 
lose  even  his  own  share  by  the  right  of  war.  He  proceeds  to 
the  case  of  usurpation  ;  not  such  as  is  warranted  by  long  pre- 
scription, but  while  the  circumstances  that  led  to  the  unjust 
possession  subsist.  Against  such  an  usurper  he  thinks  it  law- 

i  5  18.  in  privatum.     Sed  minimfe  pro  derelicto 

*  ••  Si  rex  aut  alias  quis  imperium  ab-  habere  rem  censendus  est  qui  earn  tract*! 

dicarit,  aut  manifesto  habet  pro  derelicto,  negligentius."  — C.  4,  §  9. 

in  cum  post  U  tempos  omuia  licent,  quae 


GROTIUS.  PARI  III. 

fill  to  rebel,  so  long  as  there  is  no  treaty  or  voluntary  act  of 
allegiance,  at  least  if  the  government  de  jure  sanctions  the 
insurrection.  But,  where  there  may  be  a  doubt  whether  the 
lawful  ruler  has  not  acquiesced  in  the  usurpation,  a  private 
person  ought  rather  to  stand  by  possession,  than  to  tak3  the 
decision  upon  himself.1 

93.  The  right  of  war,  which  we  must  here  understand  in  the 

largest  sense,  —  the  employment  of  force  to  resist 
naturally  force,  though  by  private  men,  —  resides  in  all  man- 
of  ™ar.Sht  kind*.  Solon,  he  says,  taught*  us  that  those  common- 

wealths would  be  happy  wherein  each  man  thought 
the  injuries  of  others  were  like  his  own.2  The  mere  sociabi- 
lity of  human  nature  ought  to  suggest  this  to  us.  And,  though 
Grotius  does  not  proceed  with  this  subject,  he  would  not  have 
doubted  that  we  are  even  bound  by  the  law  of  nature,  not 
merely  that  we  have  a  right,  to  protect  the  lives  and  goods  of 
others  against  lawless  violence,  without  the  least  reference  to 
positive  law  or  the  command  of  a  magistrate.3  If  this  has 
been  preposterously  doubted,  or  affected  to  be  doubted,  in 
England,  of  late  years,  it  has  been  less  owing  to  the  pedantry 
which  demands  an  express  written  law  upon  the  most  pressing 
emergency,  than  to  lukewarmness,  at  the  best,  in  the  public 
cause  of  order  and  justice.  The  expediency  of  vindicating 
these  by  the  slaughter  of  the  aggressors  must  depend  on  the 
peculiar  circumstances  ;  but  the  right  is  paramount  to  any 
positive  laws,  even  if  (which  with  us  is  not  the  case)  it  were 
difficult  to  be  proved  from  them. 

94.  We  now  arrive  at  the  first  and  fundamental  inquiry, 
Right          What  is  the  right  of  self-defence,  including  the  de- 
of  self-        fence  of  what  is  our  own  ?     There  can,  says  Grotius, 

defence.         ,  •  /.  /•,,     ,    .         ,.  f  /. 

be  no  just  cause  of  war  (that  is,  of  using  force  ;  for 
he  is  now  on  the  most^general  ground)  but  injury.  For  this 
reason,  he  will  not  admit  of  wars  to  preserve  the  balance  of 
power.  An  imminent  injury  to  ourselves  or  our  property 
renders  repulsion  of  the  aggressor  by  force  legitimate.  But 
here  he  argues  rather  weakly  and  inconsistently  through  ex- 
cess of  charity  ;  and,  acknowledging  the  strict  right  of  killing 
one  who  would  otherwise  kill  us,  thinks  it  more  praiseworthy 


oi  IJ.T]  aSiKov/iEVOt  7rpo/3oA/lovrai  KOI        s  He  lays  this  down  expressly  after* 
rov£  adiKOwrof.    "  Ot  cse-    wards.    L.  ii.  c.  20. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACTS.  185 

to  accept  the  alternative.1  The  right  of  killing  one  who  in- 
flicts a  smaller  personal  injury,  he  wholly  denies ;  and  with 
respect  to  a  robber,  while  he  admits  he  may  be  slain  by 
natural  law,  is  of  opinion  that  the  gospel  has  greatly  limited 
the  privilege  of  defending  our  property  by  such  means.  Al- 
most all  jurists  and  theologians  of  his  day,  he  says,  carry  it 
farther  than  he  does.2  To  public  warfare  he  gives  a  greater 
latitude  than  to  private  self-defence,  but  without  assigning 
any  satisfactory  reason  ;  the  true  reason  being,  that  so  rigid  a 
scheme  of  ethics  would  have  rendered  his  book  an  Utopian 
theory,  instead  of  a  practicable  code  of  law. 

95.  Injury  to  our  rights,  therefore,  is  a  just  cause  of  war. 
But  what  are  our  rights  ?     What  is  property  ?  whence  does  it 
come  ?   what  may  be  its  subjects  ?   in  whom  does  it  reside  ? 
Till  these  questions  are  determined,  we  can  have  but  crude 
and   indefinite   notions    of  injury,  and,  consequently,  of  the 
rights  we  have  to  redress  it.     The  disquisition  is  necessary, 
but  it  must  be  long ;  unless,  indeed,  we  acquiesce  in  what  we 
find  already  written,  and  seek  for  no  stable  principles  upon 
which  this  grand  and  primary  question  in  civil  society  (the 
rights  of  property  and  dominion)  may  rest.    Here  then  begins 
what  has  seemed  to  many  the  abandonment  by  Grotius  of  his 
general  subject,  and  what  certainly  suspends,  for  a  considerable 
time,  the  inquiry  into  international  law,  but  still  not,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  an  episodical  digression,  at  least  for  the  greater 
part,  but  a  natural  and  legitimate    investigation,    springing 
immediately  from  the  principal  theme  of  the  work,  connected 
with   it   more    closely  at   several   intervals,   and   ultimately 
reverting  into  it.     But  of  this  the  reader  will  judge  as  we 
proceed  with  the  analysis. 

96.  Grotius  begins  with  rather  too  romantic  a  picture  of 
the  early  state  of  the  world,  when  men  lived  on  the  Jts  ori  . 
spontaneous  fruits   of  the  earth,  with  no  property,   and  iimi- 
exccpt  in  Avhat  each  had  taken  from  the    common 
mother's  lap.     But  this  happy  condition  did  not,  of  course, 
last  very  long ;  and  mankind  came  to  separate  and  exclusive 
possession,  each  for  himself,  and  against  the  world.     Original 
occupancy  by  persons,  and  division  of  lands  by  the  commu- 

1  Lib.  ii.  c.  1.  §  8.    Gronorius  observes  *  "Hodie   omnes  fenne  tarn  .oriscon- 

pithily  and  truly  on  this  :  "  Melius  occidi  sulti  quam  theologi  doceant  recte  homi- 

quam  occidere  injuria;  non  melius  occi-  nes  a  nobis  interfici  rerum  defendendarunt 

di  injuria  quam  occidere  jure."  causa."  —  §  18. 


186  GEOTIUS.  PART  IIL 

nity,  lie  rightly  holds  to  be  the  two  sources  of  territorial  pro- 
priety. Occupation  is  of  two  sorts ;  one  by  the  community 
(per  universitateni),  the  other  (perfundos)  by  several  pos-'-s- 
sion.  What  is  not  thus  occupied  is  still  the  domain  of  the 
state.  Grotius  conceives  that  mankind  have  reserved  a  right 
of  taking  what  belongs  to  others,  in  extreme  necessity.  It  is 
a  still  more  remarkable  limitation  of  the  right  of  property, 
that  it  carries  very  far  his  notions  of  that  of  transit;  main- 
taining that  not  only  rivers,  but  the  territory  itself,  of  a  state 
may  be  peaceably  entered,  and  that  permission  cannot  be 
refused,  consistently  with  natural  law,  even  in  the  case  of 
armies :  nor  is  the  apprehension  of-  incurring  the  hostility 
of  the  power,  who  is  thus  attacked  by  the  army  passing 
through  our  territory,  a  sufficient  excuse.1  This,  of  course, 
must  now  be  exploded.  Nor  can,  he  thinks,  the  transit  of 
merchandise  be  forbidden  or  impeded  by  levying  any  further 
tolls  than  are  required  for  the  incident  expenses.  Strangers 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  settle,  on  condition  of  obeying  the 
laws,  and  even  to  occupy  any  waste  tracts  in  the  territory;2 
a  position  equally  untenable.  It  is  less  unreasonably  that  he 
maintains  the  general  right  of  mankind  to  buy  what  they  want, 
if  the  other  party  can  spare  it;  but  he  extends  too  far  his  prin- 
ciple, that  no  nation  can  be  excluded  by  another  from  privi- 
leges which  it  concedes  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  all  these 
positions,  however,  we  perceive  the  enlarged  and  philanthropic 
spirit  of  the  system  of  Grotius,  and  his  disregard  of  the 
usages  of  mankind  when  they  clashed  with  his  Christian  prin- 
ciples of  justice.  But,  as  the  very  contrary  supposition  has 
been  established  in  the  belief  of  the  present  generation,  it 
may  be  doubtful  whether  his  own  testimony  will  be  thought 
sufficient. 

97.  The  original  acquisition  of  property  was,  in  the  infancy 
Right  of  of  human  societies,  by  division  or  by  occupancy :  it 
o«cupancy.  js  now  by  occupaucy  alone.  Paullus  has  reckoned 
as  a  mode  of  original  acquisition,  if  we  have  caused  any  thing 
to  exist, "  Si  quid  ipsi,  ut  in  rerum  natura  esset,  fecimus."  This, 
though  not  well  expressed,  must  mean  the  produce  of  labor. 
Grotius  observes,  that  this  resolves  itself  into  a  continuance 
of  a  prior  right,  or  a  new  one  by  occupancy,  and  therefore  no 


1  "Sic  etiam  metus  ab   eo   in    quern     negandum  transitum  non  valet." — Lib.il 
bell  am  justum  movet  is  qui  transit,  ad     c.  2,  §  13.  »  §  16, 17. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  187 

peculiar  mode  of  acquisition.  In  those  things  which  naturally 
belong  to  no  one,  there  may  be  two  sorts  of  occupation,  —  do- 
minion or  sovereignty,  and  property.  And,  in  the  former  sense 
at  least,  rivers,  and  bays  of  the  sea,  are  capable  of  occupation. 
In  what  manner  this  may  be  done,  he  explains  at  length.1 
But  those  who  occupy  a  portion  of  the  sea  have  no  right  to 
obstruct  others  in  fishing.  This  had  been  the  subject  of  a 
controversy  of  Grotius  with  Selden ;  the  one  in  his  Mare 
Liberum  denying,  the  other  in  his  Mare  Clausum  sustaining, 
the  right  of  England  to  exclude  the  fishermen  of  Holland 
from  the  seas  which  she  asserted  to  be  her  own. 

98.  The  right  of  occupancy  exists  as  to  things  derelict,  or 
abandoned   by  their   owners.      But   it  is  of  more  Reiinquish- 
importance   to   consider   the   presumptions  of  such  mentoflt- 
relinquishment  by  sovereign  states,  as  distinguished  from  mere 
prescription.     The   non-claim  of  the  owner,  during  a   long 
period,  seems  the  only  means  of  giving  a  right  where  none 
originally  existed.     It  must  be  the  silent  acquiescence  of  one 
who  knows  his  rights  and  has  his  free  will.     But,  when  this 
abandonment  has  once  taken  place,  it  bars  unborn  claimants ; 
for  he  who  is  not  born,  Grotius  says,  has  no  rights :  "  Ejus  qui 
nondum  est  natus  nullum  est  jus."2 

99.  A  right  over  persons  may  be  acquired  in  three  ways, — 
by  generation,  by  their  consent,  by  their  crime.     In 

1-11  .  ~3       xi  •    i  f    Right  over 

children,  we  are  to  consider  three  periods,  —  that  of  persons, 
imperfect  judgment,  or  infancy ;  that  of  adult  age  in 
the  father's  family ;  and  that  of  emancipation,  or  foris- 
familiation,  when  they  have  ceased  to  form  a  part  of  it.  In 
the  first  of  these,  a  child  is  capable  of  property  in  possession, 
but  not  in  enjoyment ;  in  the  second,  he  is  subject  to  the 
parent,  only  in  actions  which  affect  the  family ;  in  the  third, 
he  is  wholly  his  own  master.  All  beyond  this  is  positive  law. 
The  paternal  power  was  almost  peculiar  to  the  Romans, 
though  the  Persians  are  said  to  have  had  something  of  the 
same.  Grotius,  we  perceive,  was  no  ally  of  those  who  ele- 
vated the  patriarchal  power,  in  order  to  found  upon  it  a 
despotic  polity ;  nor  does  he  raise  it  by  any  means  so  high  as 
Bodin.  The  customs  of  Eastern  nations  would,  perhaps,  have 
warranted  somewhat  more  than  he  concedes.3 

100.  Coasent  is  the  second  mode  of  acquiring  dominion, 

1C.  8.  »  C.  4.  »M.,6. 


188  GROTIUS.  PAPT  in. 

The  consociation  of  male  and  female  is  the  first  species  of 
By  consent  it,  which  is  principally  in  marriage,  for  which  the 
in  marriage,  promise  of  the  woman  to  be  faithful  is  required. 
But  he  thinks  that  there  is  no  mutual  obligation  by  the  law 
of  nature ;  which  seems  designed  to  save  the  polygamy  of  the 
patriarchs.  He  then  discusses  the  chief  questions  as  to 
divorce,  polygamy,  clandestine  marriages,  and  incest ;  holding, 
that  no  unions  are  forbidden  by  natural  law,  except  in  the 
direct  line.  Concubines,  in  the  sense  of  the  Roman  jurispru- 
dence, are  true  Christian  wives.1 

101.  In  all  other  consociations  except  marriage,  it  is  a  rule 
in  common-  that  the  majority  can  bind  the  minority.     Of  these, 
wealths.        ^he   principal   is   a  commonwealth.     And  here  he 
maintains  the  right  of  every  citizen  to  leave  his  country,  and 
that  the  state  retains  no  right  over  those  whom  it  has  ban- 
ished.    Subjection,  which  may  arise  from  one  kind  of  consent, 
is  either  private  or  public :   the  former  is  of  several  species, 
among  which  adoption,  in  the  Roman  sense,  is  the  noblest, 
and  servitude  the  meanest.     In  the  latter  case,  the  master  has 
not  the  right  of  life  and  death  over  his  servants,  though  some 
laws  give  him  impunity.     He  is  perplexed  about  the  right 
over  persons  bom  in  slavery,  since  his  theory  of  its  origin 
will  not  support  it.     But  in  the  case  of  public  subjection, 
where  one  state  becomes  voluntarily  subject  to  another,  he 
finds  no  difficulty  about  the  unborn,  because  the  people  is  the 
same,  notwithstanding  the  succession  of  individuals ;    which 
seems  paying  too  much  deference  to  a  legal  fiction.2 

102.  The  right  of  alienating  altogether  the  territory,  he 
Right  of      grants   to   patrimonial   sovereigns ;    but    he    denies 
alienating     that  a  part  can  be  separated  from  the  rest  without  its 
subjects,      consen^  either  by  the  community  or  by  the  sove- 
reign, however  large  his  authority  may  be.     This  he  extends 
to   subjection  of  the   kingdom   to   vassalage.     The    right  of 
Alienation    alienating  private  property  by  testament  is  founded, 
by  testa-      he  thinks,  in  natural  law;8  a  position  wherein  I  can 

by  no  means  concur.  In  conformity  with  this,  he 
derives  the  right  of  succession  by  intestacy  from  the  pre- 
sumed intention  of  the  deceased,  and  proceeds  to  dilate  on  the 
different  rules  of  succession  established  by  civil  laws.  Yef 
the  rule,  that  paternal  and  maternal  heirs  shall  take  respect- 

ic.6.  » id.  »  0.6,  §14. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  189 

ively  what  descended  from  the  ancestors  on  each  side,  he 
conceives  to  be  founded  in  the  law  of  nature,  though  subject 
to  the  right  of  bequest.1 

103.  In  treating  of  the  acquisition  of  property  by  the  law 
of  nations,  he  means  only  the  arbitrary  constitutions 

of  the  Roman  and  other  codes.  Some  of  these  he  property 
deems  founded  in  no  solid  reason,  though  the  law-  by  positive 
givers  of  every  country  have  a  right  to  determine 
such  matters  as  they  think  fit.  Thus  the  Roman  law 
recognizes  no  property  in  animals  ferce  naturce,  which  that 
of  modern  nations  gives,  he  says,  to  the  owner  of  the  soil 
where  they  are  found,  not  unreasonably  any  more  than  the 
opposite  maxim  is  unreasonable.  So  of  a  treasure  found 
in  the  earth,  and  many  other  cases,  wherein  it  is  hard  to 
say  that  the  law  of  nature  and  reason  prescribes  one  rule 
more  than  another.2 

104.  The    rights    of  sovereignty   and   property   may   ter- 
minate by  extinction   of  the   ruling   or   possessing   Extinction 
family  without  provision  of  successors.     Slaves  then   of  rights- 
become  free ;  and  subjects,  their  own  masters :  for  there  can 
be  no  new  right  by  occupancy  in  such.     But  a  people   or 
community  may  cease  to  exist,  though  the  identity  of  persons, 
or   even  of  race,  is   not   necessary  for  its  continuance.     It 
may  expire   by  voluntary  dispersion,  or  by  subjugation  to 
another   state.     But   mere  change  of  place  by  simultaneous 
emigration  will  not  destroy  a  political  society,  much   less  a 
change  of  internal  government.     Hence,  a  republic  becoming 
a  monarchy,  it  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  other  commu- 
nities as  before,  and,  in  particular,  is  subject  to  all  its  former 
debts.3 


1  C.  7.    In  this  chapter,   Grotius  de-  remarks,  in  a  note  on  this  passage :  "  Mi 

tides  that  parents  are  not  bound  by  strict  rum  est  hoc  loco  surnuiuni  virum,  cum 

justice  to  maintain  their  children.     The  in  prascipua  questione  non  male  sentiret, 

case  is  stronger  the  other  way,  in  return  in  tot  salebras  se  conjecisse,  totque  mon- 

for  early   protection.     Barbeyrac   thinks  stra  et  chiinaeras  connnxisse,  ut  aliquid 

that  aliment  is  due  to  children  by  strict  noyum  dicerit,  et  Germanis  potius  ludi- 

right  during  infancy.  brium    deberet,    quam    Gallis   et    Papas 

parum  placeret.''     This,  however,  is  very 

s  §  2.  At  the  end  of  this  chapter,  Gro-  uncandid,  as  Barbeyrac  truly  points  out ; 
.ius  unfortunately  raises  a  question,  his  since  neither  of  these  could  take  much 
solution  of  which  laid  him  open  to  cen-  interest  in  a  theory  which  reserved  a 
sure.  He  inquires  to  whom  the  coun-  supremacy  over  the  world  to  the  Roman 
tries  formerly  subject  to  the  Roman  people.  It  is  probably  the  weakest  pas- 
Empire  belong.  And  here  he  comes  to  sage  in  all  the  writings  of  Grotius,  though 
the  inconceivable  paradox,  that  that  eui-  there  are  too  many  which  do  ndt  enhance 
pire,  and  the  rights  of  the  riti/ens  of  bis  fame. 
Rome,  still  subsist.  Gronoviud  bitterly 


190  GROTIUS.  PART  III. 

105.  In  a  chapter  on  the  obligations  which  the  right   of 
Someca-      property  imposes  on  others  than  the  proprietor,  we 
nuisticai      find   some   of  the   more   delicate   questions   in  the 

casuistry  of  natural  law,  such  as  relate  to  the  band 
•  fide  possessor  of  another's  property.  Grotius,  always  siding 
with  the  stricter  moralists,  asserts  that  he  is  hound  not  only 
to  restore  the  substance,  but  the  intermediate  profits,  without 
any  claim  for  the  valuable  consideration  which  he  may  have 
paid.  His  commentator  Barbeyrac,  of  a  later  and  laxer 
school  of  casuistry,  denies  much  of  this  doctrine.1 

106.  That   great   branch   of  ethics  which   relates   to   the 

obligation  of  promises  has  been  so  diffusively  handled 
by  the  casuists  as  well  as  philosophers,  that  Grotius 
deserves  much  credit  for  the  brevity  with  which  he  has 
laid  down  the  simple  principles,  and  discussed  some  of  the 
more  difficult  problems.  That  mere  promises,  or  nuda  pacta, 
where  there  is  neither  mutual  benefit,  nor  what  the  jurists 
•call  synallagmatic  contract,  are  binding  on  the  conscience, 
whatever  they  may  be,  or  ought  to  be,  in  law,  is  maintained 
against  a  distinguished  civilian,  Francis  Connan;  nor  does 
Barbeyrac  seem  to  dispute  this  general  tenet  of  moral 
philosophers.  Puffendorf,  however,  says  fliat  there  is  a  tacit 
condition  in  promises  of  this  kind  that  they  can  be  performed 
without  great  loss  to  the  promiser ;  and  Cicero  holds  them 
to  be  released,  if  their  performance  would  be  more  detri- 
mental to  one  party  than  serviceable  to  the  other.  This 
gives  a  good  deal  of  latitude ;  but  perhaps  they  are,  in 
such  cases,  open  to  compensation  without  actual  fulfilment 
A  promise  given  without  deliberation,  according  to  Grotius 
himself,  is  not  binding.  Those  founded  on  deceit  or  error 
admit  of  many  distinctions ;  but  he  determines,  in  the  cele- 
brated question  of  extorted  promises,  that  they  are  valid 
by  the  natural,  though  their  obligation  may  be  annulled  by 
the  civil,  law.  But  the  promisee  is  bound  to  release  a  pro- 
mise thus  unduly  obtained.2  These  instances  are  sufficient 

1  C.  10.    Our  own  jurisprudence  goes  Grotius,     though    conformable    to    that 
upon  the  principles  of  Grotius,  and  even  of  the  theological  casuists  in  general,  is 
denies  the  possessor  by  a  bad  title,  though  justly  rejected  by   Puffendorf  and   Bar- 
bonajiiie,  any  indemnification  for  what  he  beyrac,  as  well  as  by  many  writers  of  the 
may  have  laid  out  to  the  benefit  of  the  last  century.     The  principle  seems  to  be, 
property ;  which  seems  hardly  consonant  that  right  and  obligation,  in  matters  of 
to  the  strictest  rules  of  natural  law.  agreement,   are  correlative;    and,   where 

2  C.  11,  §  7.     It  is  not  very  probable  the  first  does  not  arise,  the  second  cannot 
that  the  promisee  will  fulfil  this  obliga-  exist.      Adam   Smith    and  Paley  incline 
Ik,  n  in  guch  a  case ;  and  the  decision  of  to  think  the  promise  ought,  under  certain 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JUKE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  191 

to  show  the  spirit  in  which  Grotius  always  approaches  the 
decision  of  moral  questions ;  serious  and  learned,  rather  than 
profound  in  seeking  a  principle,  or  acute  in  establishing 
a  distinction.  In  the  latter  quality,  he  falls  much  below  his 
annotator  Barbeyrac,  who  had,  indeed,  the  advantage  of 
coming  nearly  a  century  after  him. 

107.  In  no  part  of  his  work  has  Grotius  dwelt  so  much 
on  the  rules  and  distinctions  of  the  Roman  law  as  in 

Contracts. 

his  chapter  on  contracts ;  nor  was  it  very  easy  or 
desirable  to  avoid  it.1  The  wisdom  of  those  great  men,  from 
the  fragments  of  whose  determinations  the  existing  juris- 
prudence of  Europe,  in  subjects  of  this  kind,  has  been  chiefly 
derived,  could  not  be  set  aside  without  presumption,  nor 
appropriated  without  ingratitude.  Less  fettered,  at  least  in 
the  best  age  of  Roman  jurisprudence,  by  legislative  inter- 
ference than  our  modern  lawyers  have  commonly  been,  they 
resorted  to  no  other  principles  than  those  of  natural  justice. 
That  the  Roman  law,  in  all  its  parts,  coincides  with  the 
best  possible  platform  of  natural  jurisprudence,  it  would 
be  foolish  to  assert ;  but  that  in  this  great  province,  or  rather 
demesne-land,  of  justice,  the'  regulation  of  contracts  between 
man  and  man,  it  does  not  considerably  deviate  from  the  right 
line  of  reason,  has  never  been  disputed  by  any  one  in  the 
least  conversant  with  the  Pandects. 

108.  It  will  be  manifest,  however,  to  the  attentive  reader  of 
Grotius,  in  this  chapter,  that  he  treats  the  subject  considered 
of  contract  as  a  pail  of  ethics  rather  than  of  juris-  ethically, 
prudence ;    and   it  is   only  by   the   frequent   parallelism  of 
the  two  sciences  that  the  contrary  could  be  suspected.     Thus 
he  maintains,  that,  equality  being  the  principle  of  the  contract 
by  sale,  either  party  is  forced  to  restore  the  difference  arising 
from  a  misapprehension  of  the  other,  even  without  his  own 
fault ;    and  this  whatever   may  be    the   amount,  though    the 
civil  law  gives  a  remedy  only  where  the  difference  exceeds 
one-half  of   the    price.2      And   in   several   other   places   he 

circumstances,  to  be  kept :  but  the  rea-  bond  given  through  duress  or  illegal  Tio- 
sons  they  give  are  not  founded  on  the  lence,  if  the  plea  be  a  true  one. 
ju.vtitia  "explttrix.  which  the  proper  obli-  In  a  subsequent  passage.  1.  iii.  c.  19, 
gation  of  promises,  as  such,  requires.  It  §  4.  Grotius  seems  to  carry  this  theory 
is  also  a  proof  how  little  the  moral  sense  of  the  duty  of  releasing  an  unjust  pro- 
of mankind  goes  along  with  the  rigid  mise  go  far  as  to  deny  the  obligation  of 
casuists  in  this  respect,  that  no  one  ia  the  latter,  and  thus  circuitously  to  agre« 
blamed  for  defending  himself  against  a  with  the  opposite  class  of  casuists. 

i  C  12.  *  §  12. 


192  GROTIUS.  PART  III 

diverges  equally  from  that  law.  Not  that  he  ever  con- 
templated what  Smith  seems  to  have  meant  by  "  natural 
jurisprudence,"  a  theory  of  the  principles  which  ought  to  run 
through,  and  to  be  the  foundation  of,  the  laws  of  all  nations. 
But  he  knew  that  the  judge  in  the  tribunal,  and  the  inward 
judge  in  the  breast,  even  where  their  subjects  of  determi- 
nation appear  essentially  the  same,  must  have  different 
boundaries  to  their  jurisdiction;  and  that,  as  the  general 
maxims  and  inflexible  forms  of  external  law,  in  attempts 
to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  subtilties  of  casuistry, 
would  become  uncertain  and  arbitrary,  so  the  finer  emotions 
of  the  conscience  would  lose  all  their  moral  efficacy  by 
restraining  the  duties  of  justice  to  that  which  can  be  enforced 
by  the  law.  In  the  course  of  this  twelfth  chapter,  we  come 
to  a  question  much  debated  in  the  time  of  Grotius, —  the 
lawfulness  of  usury.  After  admitting,  against  the  common 
opinion,  that  it  is  not  repugnant  to  the  law  of  nature,  he  yet 
maintains  the  prohibition  in  the  Mosaic  code  to  be  binding 
on  all  mankind.1  An  extraordinary  position,  it  would  seem, 
in  one  who  had  denied  any  part  of  that  system  to  be  truly 
an  universal  law.  This  was,  however,  the  usual  determi- 
nation of  casuists ;  but  he  follows  it  up,  as  was  also  usual, 
with  so  many  exceptions  as  materially  relax  and  invalidate 
the  application  of  his  rule. 

109.  The  next  chapter,  on  promissory  oaths,  is  a  corollary 
Promissory  to  the  last  two.  It  was  the  opinion  of  Grotius,  as  it 
oaths.  na(j  been  of  all  theologians,  and,  in  truth,  of  all 
mankind,  that  a  promise  or  contract  not  only  becomes  more 
solemn,  and  entails  on  its  breach  a  severer  penalty,  by 
means  of  this  adjuration  of  the  Supreme  Being,  but  may 
even  acquire  a  substantial  validity  by  it,  in  cases  where 
no  prior  obligation  would  subsist.2  This  chapter  is  distin- 
guished by  a  more  than  usually  profuse  erudition.  But, 
notwithstanding  the  rigid  observance  of  oaths  which  he  deems 
incumbent  by  natural  and  revealed  law,  he  admits  of  a  con- 
siderable authority  in  the  civil  magistrate,  or  other  superior, 
as  a  husband  or  father,  to  annul  the  oaths  of  inferiors  before- 
hand, or  to  dispense  with  them  afterwards ;  not  that  they  can 
release  a  moral  obligation,  but  that  the  obligation  itself  is 
incurred  under  a  tacit  condition  of  their  consent.  And  he 

1  §  20.  »  o.  18. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JUEE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  193 

seems,  in  rather  a  singular  manner,  to  hint  a  kind  of  approval 
of  such  dispensations  by  the  church.1 

110.  Whatever  has  been  laid  down  by  Grotius  in  the  last 
three  chapters  as  to  the  natural  obligations  of  man-   Engage- 
kind,  has  an  especial  reference  to  the  main  purport  £}nnts  of 
of  this  great  work,  the  duties  of  the  supreme  power,   towards 
But  the  engagements  of  sovereigns  give  rise  to  many  subJects- 
questions  which  cannot  occur  In  those  of  private  men.     In  the 
chapter  which  ensues,  on  the  promises,  oaths,  and  contracts  of 
sovereigns,  he  confines  himself  to  those  engagements  which 
immediately  affect  their  subjects.     These  it  is  of  great  impor- 
tance, in  the  author's  assumed  province  of  the  general  confessor 
or  casuist  of  kings,  to  place  on  a  right  footing ;  because  they 
have  never  wanted  subservient  counsellors,  who  would  wrest 
the  law  of  conscience,  as  well  as  that  of  the  land,  to  the  inter- 
ests of  power.     Grotius,  in  denying  that  the  sovereign  may 
revoke  his  own  contracts,  extends  this  case  to  those  made  by 
him  during  his  minority,  without  limitation  to  such  as  have 
been   authorized  by  his  guardians.2     His  contracts  with  his 
subjects  create  a  true  obh'gation,  of  which  they  may  claim, 
though  not  enforce,  the  performance.     He  hesitates  whether 
to  call  this  obligation  a  civil  or  only  a  natural  one  ;    and,  in 
fact,  it  can  only  be  determined  by  positive  law.3     Whether  the 
successors  of  a  sovereign  are  bound  by  his  engagements,  must 
depend,  he  observes,  on  the  political  constitution,  and  on  the 
nature  of  the  engagement.     Those  of  an  usurper  he  deter- 
mines not  to  be  binding,  which  should  probably  be  limited  to 
domestic  contracts,  though  his  language  seems  large  enough 
to  comprise  engagements  towards  foreign  states.4 

111.  We  now  return  from  what,  in  strict  language,  may 
pass  for  a  long  digression,  though  not  a  needless  one,     PuDiic 
to  the  main  stream  of  international  law.     The  title  of     treaties. 
the  fifteenth  chapter  is  on   Public  Treaties.     After  several 
divisions,  which  it  would  at  present  be  thought  unnecessary  to 
specify  so  much  at  length,  Grotius  enters  on  a  question  not 
then  settled  by  theologians,  whether  alliances  with  infidel  pow- 
ers were,  in  any  circumstances,  lawful.     Francis  I.  had  given 


1  §  20.     "  Ex  hoc  fundamento  defend! 


VOL.   III. 


1U4  GROTIUS.  PART  m. 

great  scandal  in  Europe  by  his  league  with  the  Turk.  And, 
though  Grotius  admits  the  general  lawfulness  of  such  alliances, 
it  is  under  limitations  which  would  hardly  have  borne  out  the 
court  of  France  in  promoting  the  aggrandizement  of  the  com- 
mon enemy  of  Christendom.  Another  and  more  extensive 
head  in  the  casuistry  of  nations  relates  to  treaties  that  have 
been  concluded  without  the  authority  of  the  sovereign.  That 
he  is  not  bound  by  these  engagements  is  evident  as  a  leading 
rule  ;  but  the  course  which,  according  to  natural  law,  ought  to 
be  taken  in  such  circumstances,  is  often  doubtful.  The  famous 
capitulation  of  the  Roman  army  at  the  Caudine  Forks  is  in 
point.  Grotius,  a  rigid  casuist,  determines  that  the  senate 
were  not  bound  to  replace  their  army  in  the  condition  from 
which  the  treaty  had  delivered  them.  And  this  seems  to  be  a 
rational  decision,  though  the  Romans  have  sometimes  incurred 
the  censure  of  ill  faith  for  their  conduct.  But  if  the  sove- 
reign has  not  only  by  silence  acquiesced  in  the  engagement 
of  his  ambassador  or  general,  which  of  itself,  according  to 
Grotius,  will  not  amount  to  an  implied  ratification,  but  recog- 
nized it  by  some  overt  act  of  his  own,  he  cannot  afterwards 
plead  the  defect  of  sanction.1 

112.  Promises  consist  externally  in  words,  really  in  the  in- 
Their  inter-  tention  of  the  parties.  But,  as  the  evidence  of  this 
pretation.  intention  must  usually  depend  on  words,  we  should 
adapt  our  general  rules  to  their  natural  meaning.  Common 
usage  is  to  determine  the  interpretation  of  ag*eements,  except 
where  terms  of  a  technical  sense  have  been  employed.  But  if 
the  expressions  will  bear  different  senses,  or  if  there  is  some 
apparent  inconsistency  in  different  clauses,  it  becomes  neces- 
sary to  collect  the  meaning  conjecturally,  from  the  nature  of 
the  subject,  from  the  consequences  of  the  proposed  interpre- 
tation, and  from  its  bearing  on  other  parts  of  the  agreement. 
This  serves  to  exclude  unreasonable  and  unfair  constructions 
from  the  equivocal  language  of  treaties,  such  as  was  usual  in 
former  times  to  a  degree  which  the  greater  prudence  of  con- 
tracting parties,  if  not  their  better  faith,  has  rendered  impossi- 
ble in  modern  Europe.  Among  other  rules  of  interpretation, 
whether  in  private  or  public  engagements,  he  lays  down  one, 
familiar  to  the  jurists,  but  concerning  the  validity  of  which 
some  have  doubted,  —  that  things  favorable,  as  they  style 
them,  or  conferring  a  benefit,  are  to  be  construed  largely ; 

i  c.  16. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JTJKE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  10j 

things  odious,  or  onerous  to  one  party,  are  not  to  be  stretched 
beyond  the  letter.  Our  own  law,  as  is  well  known,  adopts 
this  distinction  between  remedial  and  penal  statutes  ;  and  it 
seems  (wherever  that  which  is  favorable  in  one  sense  is  not 
odious  in  another)  the  most  equitable  principle  in  public  con- 
ventions. The  celebrated  question,  the  cause,  or,  as  Polybius 
more  truly  calls  it,  the  pretext,  of  the  second  Punic  War, 
whether  the  terms  of  a  treaty  binding  each  party  not  to 
attack  the  allies  of  the  other  shall  comprehend  those  who  have 
entered  subsequently  into  alliance,  seems,  but  rather  on 
doubtful  grounds,  to  be  decided  in  the  negative.  Several 
other  cases  from  history  are  agreeably  introduced  in  this 
chapter.1 

113.  It  is  often,  he  observes,  important  to  ascertain  whether 
a  treaty  be  personal  or  real ;   that  is,  whether  it  affect  only 
the  contract  ing  sovereign  or  the.  state.     The  treaties  of  re- 
publics are  always  real  or  permanent,  even  if  the  form  of 
government  should  become  monarchical ;  but  the  converse  is 
not  true  as  to  those  of  kings,  which   are   to  be  interpreted 
according  to  the  probable  meaning  where  there  are  no  words 
of  restraint  or   extension.     A  treaty  subsists  with  a   king, 
though  he  may  be  expelled  by  his  subjects ;    nor  is  it  any 
breach  of  faith  to  take  up  arms  against  an  usurper,  with  the 
lawful   sovereign's  consent.     This  is   not  a  doctrine  which 
would  now  be  endured.2 

114.  Besides  those  rules  of  interpretation  which  depend  on 
explaining  the  words  of  an   engagement,   there   are   others 
which  must  sometimes  be  employed  to  extend  or  limit  the 
meaning  beyond  any  natural  construction.     Thus,  in  the  old 
law-case,  a  bequest,  in  the  event  of  the  testator's  posthumous 
son  dying,  was  held  valid  where  none  was  born  ;  and  instances 
of  this  kind  are  continual  in  the  books  of  jurisprudence.     It 
is  equally  reasonable  sometimes  to  restrain  the  terms  of  a 
promise,  where  they  clearly  appear  to  go  beyond  the  design 
of  the  promiser,  or  where  supervenient  circumstances  indicate 
an  exception  which  he  would  infallibly  have  made.     A  few 
sections  in  this  place  seem,  perhaps,  more  fit  to  have  been 
inserted  in  the  eleventh  chapter. 

115.  There  is  a  natural  obligation  to  make  amends   for 
injury  to  the  natural  rights  of  another,  which  is  extended, 
by  means  of  the  establishment  of  property  and  of  civil  society, 

1  c.  16.  »  §  17. 


196  GROTIUS.  PABT  IIL 

to  all  which  the  laws  have  accorded  him.1      Hence  a  cor- 
relative right  arises,  but  a  right  which  is  to  be  dis- 

Obligaticn       .          .  »  '  »  .      . 

to  repair  tmguished  from  fitness  or  ment.  Ihe  jurists  were 
injury.  accustomed  to  treat  expletive  justice,  which  consists 
in  giving  to  every  one  what  is  strictly  his  own,  separately 
from  attributive  justice,  the  equitable  and  right  dispensa- 
tion of  all  things  according  to  desert.  With  the  latter, 
Grotius  has  nothing  to  do ;  nor  is  he  to  be  charged  with 
introducing  the  distinction  of  perfect  and  imperfect  rights, 
if,  indeed,  those  phrases  are  as  objectionable  as  some  have 
accounted  them.  In  the  far  greater  part  of  this  chapter,  he 
considers  the  principles  of  this  important  province  of  natural 
law,  the  obligation  to  compensate  damage,  rather  as  it  affects 
private  persons  than  sovereign  states.  As,  in  most  in- 
stances, this  falls  within  the  jurisdiction  of  civil  tribunals, 
the  rules  laid  down  by  Grotius  may,  to  a  hasty  reader,  seem 
rather  intended  as  directory  to  the  judge,  than  to  the  con- 
science of  the  offending  party.  This,  however,  is  not  by  any 
means  the  case :  he  is  here,  as  almost  everywhere  else,  a 
master  in  morality,  and  not  in  law.  That  he  is  not  obsequi- 
ously following  the  Roman  law,  will  appear  by  his  determin- 
ing against  the  natural  responsibility  of  the  owner  for 
injuries  committed,  without  his  fault,  by  a  slave  or  a  beast.2 
But  sovereigns,  he  holds,  are  answerable  for  the  piracies  and 
robberies  of  their  subjects  when  they  are  able  to  prevent  them. 
This  is  the  only  case  of  national  law  which  he  discusses ; 
but  it  is  one  of  high  importance,  being,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
ordinary  causes  of  public  hostility.  This  liability,  however, 
does  not  exist  where  subjects,  having  obtained  a  lawful  com- 
mission by  letters-of-marque,  become  common  pirates,  and  do 
not  return  home. 

116.  Thus  far,  the  author  begins  in  the  eighteenth  chapter, 
us  i  ts  b  we  nave  treated  of  rights  founded  on  natural  law, 
law  of  with  some  little  mixture  of  the  arbitrary  law  of 
nations.  nations.  We  come  now  to  those  which  depend 
wholly  on  the  latter.  Such  are  the  rights  of  ambassadors. 
We  have  now,  therefore,  to  have  recourse  more  to  the  usage 
of  civilized  people  than  to  theoretical  principles.  The  prac- 
tice of  mankind  has,  in  fact,  been  so  much  more  uniform  as  to 

J  C.  17.  prries,  in  the  legal  sense,  which  has  aid* 

1  This  is  against  what  we  read  in  the  some    classical    authority,    means    dam 

8th  title  of  th«  4th  book  of  the  Institutes :  num  sine  injuria. 

'•Si  quadrupcs  pauperism  fecerit."     Pan- 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JDEE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  197 

the  privileges  of  ambassadors  than  other  matters  of  national 
intercourse,  that  they  early  acquired  the  authority  Thoseof 
and  denomination  of  public  law.  The  obligation  to  ambassa- 
receive  ambassadors  from  other  sovereign  states,  dors* 
the  respect  due  to  them,  their  impunity  in  offences  committed 
by  their  principals  or  by  themselves,  are  not,  indeed,  wholly 
founded  on  custom,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  reason  of  the  case ; 
nor  have  the  customs  of  mankind,  even  here,  been  so  unlike 
themselves  as  to  furnish  no  contradictory  precedents :  but 
they  afford,  perhaps,  the  best  instance  of  a  tacit  agreement, 
distinguishable  both  from  moral  right  and  from  positive 
convention,  which  is  specifically  denominated  the  law  of 
nations.  It  may  be  mentioned,  that  Grotius  determines  in 
favor  of  the  absolute  impunity  of  ambassadors ;  that  is,  their 
irresponsibility  to  the  tribunals  of  the  country  where  they 
reside,  in  the  case  of  personal  crimes,  and  even  of  conspiracy 
against  the  government.  This,  however,  he  founds  alto- 
gether upon  what  he  conceives  to  have  been  the  prevailing 
usage  of  civilized  states.1 

117.  The  next  chapter,  on  the  right  of  sepulture,  appears 
more  excursive  than  any  other  in  the  whole  treatise.  Right  of 
The  right  of  sepulture  can  hardly  become  a  public  8ePultu»»- 
question,  except  in  time  of  war ;  and,  as  such,  it  might  have 
been  shortly  noticed  in  the  third  book.  It  supplies  Grotius, 
however,  with  a  brilliant  prodigality  of  classical  learning.2 
But  the  next  is  far  more  important.  It  is  entitled  punish- 
On  Punishments.  The  injuries  done  to  us  by  others  ments- 
give  rise  to  our  right  of  compensation,  and  to  our  right  of 
punishment.  We  have  to  examine  the  latter  with  the  more 
care,  that  many  have  fallen  into  mistakes  from  not  duly 
apprehending  the  foundation  and  nature  of  punishment. 
Punishment  is,  as  Grotius  rather  quaintly  defines  it,  "  Malum 
passionis,  quod  infligitur  ob  malum  actionis," —  evil  inflicted  on 
another  for  the  evil  which  he  has  committed.  It  is  not  a  part 
of  attributive,  and  hardly  of  expletive  justice ;  nor  is  it,  in 
its  primary  design,  proportioned  to  the  guilt  of  the  criminal, 
but  to  the  magnitude  of  the  crime.  All  men  have  naturally 
a  right  to  punish  crimes,  except  those  who  are  themselves 
equally  guilty;  but,  though  the  criminal  would  have  no 
ground  to  complain,  the  mere  pleasure  of  revenge  is  not  a 
sufficient  motive  to  warrant  us :  there  must  be  an  useful  end 

»  C.  18.  »  C.  19. 


198  GROTIUS.  PART  IIL 

to  render  punishment  legitimate.  This  end  may  be  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  criminal  himself,  or  of  the  injured  party,  or  of 
mankind  in  general.  The  interest  of  the  injured  party  here 
considered  is  not  that  of  reparation,  which,  though  it  may 
be  provided  for  in  punishment,  is  no  proper  part  of  it, 
but  security  against  similar  offences  of  the  guilty  party  or  of 
others.  All  men  may  naturally  seek  this  security  by  punish- 
ing the  offender ;  and,  though  it  is  expedient  in  civil  society 
that  this  right  should  be  transferred  to  the  judge,  it  is  not 
taken  away  where  recourse  cannot  be  had  to  the  law.  Every 
man  may,  even  by  the  law  of  nature,  punish  crimes  by  which 
he  has  sustained  no  injury;  the  public  good  of  society  re- 
quiring security  against  offenders,  and  rendering  them  com- 
mon enemies.1 

118.  Grotius  next  proceeds  to  consider  whether  these  rights 
of  punishment   are   restrained  by  revelation,  and  concludes 
that  a  private  Christian  is  not  at  liberty  to  punish  any  crimi- 
nal, especially  with  death,  for  his  own  security  or  that  of  the 
public ;  but  that  the  magistrate  is  expressly  empowered  by 
Scripture  to  employ  the  sword  against  malefactors.      It  is 
rather  an  excess  of  scrupulousness,  that  he  holds  it  unbe- 
coming to  seek  offices  which  give  a  jurisdiction  in  capital 
cases.2 

119.  Many  things  essentially  evil  are  not  properly  punisha- 
ble by  human  laws.     Such  are  thoughts  and  intentions,  errors 
of  frailty,  or   actions   from   which,   though   morally   wrong, 
human  society  suffers  no  mischief;   or  the  absence  of  such 
voluntary  virtues   as   compassion  and  gratitude.     Nor  is  it 
always  necessary  to  inflict  lawful  punishment,  many  circum- 
stances warranting  its  remission.     The  ground  of  punishment 
is  the  guilt  of  the  offender ;  its  motive  is  the  advantage  ex- 
pected from  it.     No  punishment  should  exceed  what  is  de- 
served ;  but  it  may  be  diminished  according  to  the  prospect  of 
utility,  or  according  to  palliating  circumstances.     But,  though 
punishments  should  bear  proportion  to  offences,  it  does  not 
follow  that  the  criminal  should  suffer  no  more  evil  than  he 
has  occasioned,  which  would  give  him  too  easy  a  measure  of 
retribution.     The   general  tendency  of  all  that  Grotius  has 
said   in  this  chapter  is  remarkably  indulgent  and  humane, 
beyond  the  practice  or  even  the  philosophy  of  his  age.3 

»  C.  2ft  *  Id.  >  Id. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  199 

120.  "War  is  commonly  grounded  upon  the  right  of  punish- 
ing injuries ;  so  that  the  general  principles  upon  which  this 
right  depends    upon  mankind  ought  well  to  be  understood, 
before  we  can  judge  of  so  great  a  matter  of  national  law. 
States,  Grotius  thinks,  have  a  right,  analogous  to  that  of  in- 
dividuals out  of  society,  to  punish  heinous  offences  against  the 
law  of  nature  or  of  nations,  though  not  affecting  themselves, 
or  even  any  other  independent  community.     But  this  is  to  be 
done  very  cautiously,  and  does  not  extend  to  violations  of 
the  positive  divine  law,  or  to  any  merely  barbarous  and  irra- 
tional  customs.     Ware    undertaken   only  on   this   score   are 
commonly  suspicious.     But  he  goes  on  to  determine  that  war 
may  be  justly  waged  against  those  who  deny  the  being  and 
providence  of  God,  though  not  against  idolaters,  much  less  for 
the  sake  of  compelling  any  nation  to  embrace  Christianity, 
unless  they  prosecute  its  professors,  in  which  case  they  are 
justly  liable  to  punishment.     He  pronounces  strongly  in  this 
place  against  the  prosecution  of  heretics.1 

121.  This  is  the  longest  chapter  in  the  work  of  Grotius. 
Several  of  his  positions,  as  the   reader  may  probably  have 
observed,  would  not  bear  a  close  scrutiny ;   the  rights  of  indi- 
viduals in  a  state  of  nature,  of  magistrates  in  civil  society, 
and  of  independent  communities,  are   not   kept   sufficiently 
distinct ;  the  equivocal  meaning  of  right,  as  it  exists  correla- 
tively  between  two  parties,  and  as  it  comprehends  the  general 
obligations  of  moral  law,  is  not  always  guarded  against.    It  is, 
notwithstanding  these  defects,  a  valuable  commentary,  regard 
being  had  to  the  time  when  it  appeared,  on  the  principles 
both  of  penal  jurisprudence  and  of  the  rights  of  war. 

122.  It  has  been  a  great  problem,  whether  the  liability  to 
punishment  can  be  transmitted  from  one  person  to   Their  re- 
finother.     This  may  be  asked  as  to  those  who  have   sponsiM- 
been  concerned  in  the  crime,  and  those  who  have    * y' 
not.     In  the  first  case,  they  are  liable  as  for  their  own  offence, 
in  having  commanded,  connived  at,  permitted,  assisted,  the 
actors  in  the  crime  before  or  after  its  perpetration.     States 
are  answerable  for  the  delinquencies  of  their  subjects  when 
unpunished.     They  are  also  bound  either  to  punish,  or  to 
deliver   up,  those  who   take   refuge  within   their   dominions 
from  the  justice  of  their  own  country.    He  seems,  however,  to 
admit  afterwards,  that  they  need  only  command  such  persona 

»  c.20 


200  GKOTIUS.  PART  HI. 

to  quit  the  country.  But  they  have  a  right  to  inquire  into 
and  inform  themselves  of  the  guilt  alleged  ;  the  ancient  privi- 
leges of  suppliants  being  established  for  the  sake  of  those 
who  have  been  unjustly  persecuted  at  home.  The  practice 
of  modern  Europe,  he  owns,  has  limited  this  right  of  demand- 
ing the  delivery  or  punishment  of  refugees  within  narrow 
bounds.  As  to  the  punishment  of  those  who  have  been  wholly 
innocent  of  the  offence,  Grotius  holds  it  universally  unjust, 
but  distinguishes  it  from  indirect  evil,  which  may  often  fall 
on  the  innocent.  Thus,  when  the  estate  of  a  father  is  confis- 
cated, his  children  suffer,  but  are  not  punished ;  since  their 
succession  was  only  a  right  contingent  on  his  possession  at  his 
death.1  It  is  a  consequence  from  this  principle,  that  a  people, 
so  far  subject  to  its  sovereign  as  to  have  had  no  control 
upon  his  actions,  cannot  justly  incur  punishment  on  account 
of  them. 

123.  After  distinguishing  the  causes  of  war  into  pretexts 
Insufficient  an(^  motives,  and  setting  aside  wars  without  any 
causes  of  assignable  justification  as  mere  robberies,  he  men- 
tions several  pretexts  which  he  deems  insufficient ; 
such  as  the  aggrandizement  of  a  neighbor,  his  construction 
of  fortresses,  the  right  of  discovery  where  there  is  already  a 
possessor,  however  barbarous,  the  necessity  of  occupying  more 
land.  And  here  he  denies,  both  to  single  men  and  to  a  people, 
the  right  of  taking  up  arms  in  order  to  recover  their  liberty. 
He  laughs  at  the  pretended  right  of  the  emperor  or  of  the 
pope  to  govern  the  world,  and  concludes  with  a  singular 
warning  against  wars  undertaken  upon  any  pretended  explana- 
Duty  of  tion  of  scriptural  prophecies.2  It  will  be  antici- 
avoiding  it.  pate^  from  the  scrupulousness  of  Grotius  in  all  his 
casuistry,  that  he  enjoins  sovereigns  to  abstain  from  war  in  a 
doubtful  cause,  and  to  use  all  convenient  methods  of  avoiding 
it  by  conference,  arbitration,  or  even  by  lot.  Single  combat 
itself,  as  a  mode  of  lot,  he  does  not  wholly  reject  in  this 
place.  In  answer  to  a  question  often  put,  whether  a  war  can 

1  C.  21,  §  10.    Hence  it  would  follow,  cerning  those  two  laws.    Conlucation  is 

by  the  principle  of  Grotius,  that  our  law  no  more  unjust  towards  the  posterity  (if 

of  forfeiture  in  high  treason  is  just,  being  an  offender  than  fine,  from  which  of  course 

part  of   the   direct    punishment  of   the  it  only  differs  in  degree ;    and,   on   the 

guilty  ;  but  that  of  attainder,  or  corrup-  other  hand,  the  law  has  as  much  right  to 

tion  of  blood,  is  unjust,  being  an  inflic-  exclude  that  posterity  from  t-njov  ing  pro- 

tion  on  the  innocent  alone.     I  incline  to  perty  at  all,  as  from  enjoying  that  which 

concur  in  this  distinction,  and  think  it  descends  from  a  third  party  through  the 

at  least  pliusible,  though  it  was  seldom  blood,  as  we  call  it,  of  a  criminal  ancestor. 
or  never  taken  in  the  discussions  con-  *  C.  22. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JURE  BELLI  ET  PACIS.  201 

be  just  on  both  sides,  he  replies,  that,  in  relation  to  the  cause 
or  subject,  it  cannot  be  so,  since  there  cannot  be  two  opposite 
rights ;  but,  since  men  may  easily  be  deceived  as  to  the  real 
right,  a  war  may  be  just  on  both  sides  with  respect  to  the 
agents.1  In  another  part  of  his  work,  he  observes  that 
resistance,  even  where  the  cause  is  not  originally  just,  may 
become  such  by  the  excess  of  the  other  party. 

124.  The  duty  of  avoiding  war,  even  in  a  just  cause,  as 
long  as  possible,  is  rather  part  of  moral  virtue  in   Andexpe- 
a  large  sense  than  of  mere  justice.     But,  besides   ^ency- 
the  obligations  imposed  on  us  by  humanity  and  by  Chris- 
tian   love,  it   is    often  expedient,  for   our  own  interests,  to 
avoid  war.     Of  this,  however,  he  says  little ;  it  being  plainly 
a  matter  of  civil  prudence  with  which  he  has  no  concern.2 
Dismissing,  therefore,  the  subject  of  this  chapter,  he  comes 
to  the  justice  of  wars  undertaken  for  the  sake  of 
others.     Sovereigns,  he  conceives,  are  not  bound  to   the'sake 
take  up  arms  in  defence  of  any  one  of  their  sub-   of  ,°.ther 

,  J    -        TT  subjects. 

jects  who  may  be  unjustly  treated.  Hence  a  state 
may  abandon  those  whom  it  cannot  protect  without  great  loss 
to  the  rest ;  but  whether  an  innocent  subject  may  be  delivered 
up  to  an  enemy,  is  a  more  debated  question.  Soto  and 
Vasquez,  casuists  of  great  name,  had  denied  this :  Grotius, 
however,  determines  it  affirmatively.  This  seems  a  remarka- 
ble exception  from  the  general  inflexibility  of  his  adherence 
to  the  rule  of  right.  For  on  what  principle  of  strict  justice 
can  a  people,  any  more  than  private  persons,  sacrifice,  or 
put  in  jeopardy,  the  life  of  an  innocent  man  ?  Grotius  is 
influenced  by  the  supposition,  that  the  subject  ought  volun- 
tarily to  surrender  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
for  the  public  good ;  but  no  man  forfeits  his  natural  rights 
by  refusing  to  perform  an  action  not  of  strict  social  obliga- 
tion.3 

125.  Next  to  subjects  are  allies,  whom  the  state  has  bound 
itself  to  succor;  and  friendly  powers,  though  with- 

out   alliance,   may  also   be   protected   from   unjust 

attack.     This    extends    even  to    all    mankind ;    though  war 

in   behalf  of  strangers  is  not  obligatory.     It  is  also  lawful 

to  deliver  the  subjects  of  others  from  extreme  mani- 

fest  oppression  of  their  rulers ;  and,  though  this  has 

often   been   a  mere  pretext,  we  are  not  on  that  account  to 

i  C.  23.  »  C.  24  »  C.  26. 


202  GROTIUS.  PART  in, 

deny  the  justice  of  an  honest  interference.  He  even  thinks 
the  right  of  foreign  powers,  in  such  a  case,  more  unequi- 
vocal than  that  of  the  oppressed  people  themselves.  At  the 
close  of  this  chapter,  he  protests  strongly  against  those  who 
serve  in  any  cause  for  the  mere  sake  of  pay ;  and  holds  them 
worse  than  the  common  executioner,  who  puts  none  but  crimi- 
nals to  death.1 

126.  In  the  twenty-sixth  and  concluding  chapter   of  this 

second  book,  Grotius  investigates  the  lawfulness  of 
serve  in  an  bearing  arms  at  the  command  of  superiors,  and 
unjust  determines  that  subjects  are  indispensably  bound  not 

to  serve  in  a  war  which  they  conceive  to  be  clearly 
unjust.  He  even  inclines,  though  admitting  the  prevailing 
opinion  to  be  otherwise,  to  think,  that,  in  a  doubtful  cause, 
they  should  adhere  to  the  general  moral  rule  in  case  of 
doubt,  and  refuse  their  personal  service.  This  would  evi- 
dently be  impracticable,  and  ultimately  subversive  of  poli- 
tical society.  It,  however,  denotes  the  extreme  scrupulosity 
of  his  mind.  One  might  smile  at  another  proof  of  this, 
where  he  determines  that  the  hangman,  before  the  perform- 
ance of  his  duty,  should  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  justice  of 
the  sentence.2 

127.  The  rights  of  war,  that  is,  of  commencing  hostility, 
Rights  in     have  thus  far  been  investigated  with  a  comprehen- 
siveness that  has  sometimes  almost  hidden  the  sub- 
ject.    We    come  now,  in   the  third  book,  to  rights  in  war. 
Whatever  may  be  done  in  war  is  permitted  either  by  the 
law  of  nature  or  that  of  nations.     Grotius  begins  with  the 
first.    The  means  morally,  though  not  physically,  necessary  to 
attain  a   lawful  end,  are  themselves  lawful ;   a   proposition 
which  he  seems  to  understand  relatively  to  the  rights  of  others, 
not  to  the  absolute  moral  quality  of  actions  ;  distinctions  which 
are  apt  to  embarrass  him.    We  have,  therefore,  a  right  to  em- 
ploy force  against  an  enemy,  though  it  may  be  the  cause  of 
suffering  to  innocent  persons.     The  principles  of  natural  law 
authorize  us  to  prevent  neutrals  from  furnishing  an  enemy 
with  the  supplies  of  war,  or  with  any  thing  else  essential  for 
his  resistance  to  our  just  demands  of  redress,  such  as  pro- 
visions in  a  state  of  siege.     And  it  is  remarkable  that,  he 
refers  this  latter  question  to  natural  law,  because  he  had  not 
found  any  clear  decision  of  it  by  the  positive  law  of  nations.3 

»  C.  25  *  C.  26.  »  L.  iii.  c.  1. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  JTEE  BELLI  ET  PACTS.  203 

128.  In  acting  against  an  enemy,  force  is  the  nature  of 
war.     But  it  may  be  inquired  whether  deceit  is  not   use  of 
also  a  lawful  means  of  success.     The  practice  of  na-  deceit- 
tions.  an  1  the  authority  of  most  writers,  seem  to  warrant  it. 
Grotius  dilates  on  different  sorts  of  artifice,  and,  after  admit- 
ting the  lawfulness  of  such  as  deceive  by  indications,  comes  to 
the  question  of  words  equivocal  or  wholly  false.     This  he 
first  discusses  on  the  general  moral  principle  of  veracity,  more 
prolixly,  and  with  more  deference  to  authority,  than  would 
suit  a  modern  reader  ;  yet  this  basis  is  surely  indispensable  for 
the  support  of  any  decision  in  public  casuistry.     The  right, 
however,  of  employing  falsehood  towards  an  enemy,  which  he 
generally  admits,  does  not  extend  to  promises,  which  are  always 
to  be  kept,  whether  express  or  implied,  especially  when  con- 
firmed   by  oath ;    and   more  greatness  of  mind,  as  well   as 
more    Christian   simplicity,  would   be   shown   by  abstaining 
wholly  from  falsehood  in  war.     The  law  of  nature  does  not 
permit  us  to  tempt  any  one  to  do  that  which  in  him  would  be 
criminal,  as  to  assassinate  his  sovereign,  or  to  betray  bis  trust ; 
but  we  have  a  right  to  make  use  of  his  voluntary  offers.1 

129.  Grotius  now  proceeds  from  the  consideration  of  natu- 
ral law  or  justice  to  that  of  the  general  customs  of 
mankind,  in  which,  according  to  him,  the  arbitrary 

law  of  nations  consists.  By  this,  in  the  first  place, 
though  naturally  no  one  is  answerable  for  another, 
it  has  been  established,  that  the  property  of  every  citizen  is, 
as  it  were,  mortgaged  for  the  liabilities  of  the  state  to  which 
he  belongs.  Hence,  if  justice  is  refused  to  us  by  the  sov- 
ereign, we  have  a  right  to  indemnification  out  of  the  property 
of  his  subjects.  This  is  commonly  called  reprisals ;  and  it  is 
a  right  which  every  private  person  would  enjoy,  were  it  not 
for  the  civil  laws  of  most  countries,  which  compel  him  to 
obtain  the  authorization  of  his  own  sovereign  or  of  some  tri- 
bunal. By  an  analogous  right,  the  subjects  of  a  foreign  state 
have  sometimes  been  seized  in  return  for  one  of  our  own  sub- 
jects unjustly  detained  by  their  government.2 

130.  A  regular  war,  by  the  law  of  nations,  can  only  be 
waged  between  political  communities.     Wherever  Declaration* 
there  is  a  semblance  of  civil  justice  and  fixed  law,  of  w*r- 
Buch  a  community  exists,  however  violent  may  be  its  actions. 
But  a  body  of  pirates  or  robbers  are  not  one.     Absolute  inde- 

»  L.  iii.  c.  1.  »  C.  2. 


204  GROTITJS.  PAET  m 

pendence,  however,  is  not  required  for  the  right  of  war.  A 
formal  declaration  of  war,  though  not  necessary  by  the  law 
of  nature,  has  been  rendered  such  by  the  usage  of  civilized 
nations.  But  it  is  required  even  by  the  former,  that  we 
should  demand  reparation  for  an  injury,  before  we  seek 
redress  by  force.  A  declaration  of  war  may  be  conditional 
or  absolute  ;  and  it  has  been  established  as  a  ratification  of 
regular  hostilities,  that  they  may  not  be  confounded  with  the 
unwarranted  acts  of  private  men.  No  interval  of  time  is 
required  for  their  commencement  after  declaration.1 

131.  All  is  lawful  during  war,  in  one  sense  of  the  word, 

which  by  the  law  and  usage  of  nations  is  dispun- 
lavMrf  n£  ishable.  And  this,  in  formal  hostilities,  is  as  much 
ticiispver  the  right  of  one  side  as  of  the  other.  The  subjects 

of  our  enemy,  whether  active  on  his  side  or  not,  be- 
come liable  to  these  extreme  rights  of  slaughter  and  pillage ; 
but  it  seems  that,  according  to  the  law  of  nations,  strangers 
should  be  exempted  from  them,  unless,  by  remaining  in  the 
country,  they  serve  his  cause.  Women,  children,  and  prisoners 
may  be  put  to  death  ;  quarter  or  capitulation  for  life  refused. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  the  law  of  nations  is  less  strict  in  this 
respect  than  that  of  nature,  it  forbids  some  things  which  na- 
turally might  be  allowable  means  of  defence,  as  the  poisoning 
an  enemy,  or  the  wells  from  which  he  is  to  drink.  The 
assassination  of  an  enemy  is  not  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations, ' 
unless  by  means  of  traitors  ;  and  even  this  is  held  allowable 
against  a  rebel  or  robber,  who  are  not  protected  by  the  rules  of 
formal  war.  But  the  violation  of  women  is  contrary  to  the  law 
of  nations.2  The  rights  of  war  with  respect  to  enemies'  pro- 
perty are  unlimited,  without  exception  even  of  churches  or 
sepulchral  monuments,  sparing  always  the  bodies  of  the  dead.3 

132.  By  the  law  of  nature,  Grotius  thinks  that  we  acquire 
a  property  in  as  much  of  the  spoil  as  is  sufficient  to  indemnify 
us,  and  to  punish  the  aggressor.     But  the  law  of  nations  car- 
ries this  much  farther,  and  gives  an  unlimited  property  in  all 
that  has  been  acquired  by  conquest,  which  mankind  are  bound 
to  respect.     This  right  commences  as  soon  as  the  enemy  has 
lost  all  chance  of  recovering  his  losses  ;  which  is,  in  movables, 
as  soon  as  they  are  in  a  place  within  our  sole  power.     The 
transfer  of  property  in  territories  is  not  so  speedy.    The  goods 
of  neutrals  are  not  thus  transferred,  when  found  in  the  cities  or 

i  C.  8.  »  C.  4.  »  C.  6. 


CHAT.  IV.  EIGHTS  OF  WAR.  205 

on  board  the  vessels  of  an  enemy.  Whether  the  spoil  belongs 
to  the  captors,  or  to  their  sovereign,  is  so  disputed  a  question, 
that  it  can  hardly  be  reckoned  a  part  of  that  law  of  nations, 
or  universal  usage,  with  which  Grotius  is  here  concerned. 
He  thinks,  however,  that  what  is  taken  in  public  enterprises 
appertains  to  the  state ;  and  that  this  has  been  the  general 
practice  of  mankind.  The  civil  laws  of  each  people  may 
modify  this,  and  have  frequently  done  so.1 

133.  Prisoners,  by  the  law  of  nations,  become  slaves  of 
the    captor,    and    their    posterity   also.      He    may  prisonerg 
treat  them  as  he  pleases  with  impunity.     This  has   become 
been  established  by  the  custom  of  mankind,  in  order 

that  the  conqueror  might  be  induced  to  spare  the  lives  of  the 
vanquished.  Some  theologians  deny  the  slave,  even  when 
taken  in  an  unjust  war,  the  right  of  making  his  escape ;  from 
whom  Grotius  dissents.  But  he  has  not  a  right,  in  con- 
science, to  resist  the  exercise  of  his  master's  authority.  This 
law  of  nations  as  to  the  slavery  of  prisoners,  as  he  admits, 
has  not  been  universally  received,  and  is  now  abolished  in 
Christian  countries,  out  of  respect  to  religion.2  But,  strictly, 
as  an  individual  may  be  reduced  into  slavery,  so  may  a  whole 
conquered  people.  It  is,  of  course,  at  the  discretion  of  the 
conqueror  to  remit  a  portion  of  his  right,  and  to  leave  as 
much  of  their  liberties  and  possessions  untouched  as  he* 
pleases.3 

134.  The  next  chapter  relates  to  the  right  of  postliminium ; 
one  depending  so  much  on  the  peculiar  fictions  of  the   _.  ,     f 
Roman  jurists,  that  it  seems  strange  to  discuss  it  as   postinm- 
part  of  an  universal  law  of  nations  at  all.    Nor  does   mum- 

it  properly  belong  to  the  rights  of  war  which  are  between 
belligerent  parties.  It  is  certainly  consonant  to  natural  just- 
ice, that  a  citizen  returning  from  captivity  should  be  fully 
restored  to  eveiy  privilege  and  all  property  that  he  had 
enjoyed  at  home.  In  modern  Europe,  there  is  little  to  which 
the  jus  postliminii  can,  even  by  analogy,  be  applied.  It  has 
been  determined,  in  courts  of  admiralty,  that  vessels  recap- 
tured after  a  short  time  do  not  revert  to  their  owner.  This 
chapter  must  be  reckoned  rather  episodical.4 

135.  We  have  thus  far  looked  only  at  the  exterior  right, 
accorded  by  the  law  of  nations  to  all  who  wage  regular  hosti- 
lities ir.  a  just  or  unjust  quarrel.    This  right  is  one  of  impunity 

1  C.  6  »  C  7  *  C.  8.  «  0.  8. 


206  MORAL  LIMITATION  OF  RIGHTS.  PAKT  111 

alone;    but  before  our  own  conscience,  or  the  tribunal  of 
moral  approbation  in  mankind,  many  things  hitherto 

Moral  limi-  i  *•  i       r  l  i 

tation  of  spoken  of  as  lawful  must  be  condemned.  In  the 
rights  in  fi^  place,  an  unjust  war  renders  all  acts  of  force 
committed  in  its  prosecution  unjust,  and  binds  the 
aggressor  before  God  to  reparation.  Every  one,  general  or 
soldier,  is  responsible  in  such  cases  for  the  wrong  he  has  com- 
manded or  perpetrated.  Nor  can  any  one  knowingly  retain 
the  property  of  another  obtained  by  such  a  war,  though  he 
should  come  to  the  possession  of  it  with  good  faith.1  And  as 
nothing  can  be  done,  consistently  with  moral  justice,  in  an 
unjust  war,  so,  however  legitimate  our  ground  for  hostilities 
may  be,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  transgress  the  boundaries  of 
equity  and  humanity.  In  this  chapter,  Grotius,  after  dilating 
with  a  charitable  abundance  of  examples  and  authorities  in 
favor  of  clemency  in  war,  even  towards  those  who  have  been 
most  guilty  in  provoking  it,  specially  indicates  women,  old 
men,  and  children,  as  always  to  be  spared ;  extending  this  also 
to  all  whose  occupations  are  not  military.  Prisoners  are  not 
to  be  put  to  death,  nor  are  towns  to  be  refused  terms  of 
capitulation.  He  denies  that  the  law  of  retaliation,  or  the 
necessity  of  striking  terror,  or  the  obstinate  resistance  of  an 
enemy,  dispenses  with  the  obligation  of  saving  his  life.  No- 
'  thing  but  some  personal  crime  can  warrant  the  refusal  of 
quarter,  or  the  death  of  a  prisoner.  Nor  is  it  allowable  to 
put  hostages  to  death.2 

136.  All  unnecessary  devastation  ought  to  be  avoided,  such 
as  the   destruction  of  trees,  of  houses,   especially 

Moderation  .,  ,  ,  ,.        I-IT  j        /•   * 

required  as  ornamental  and  public  buildings,  and  or  every 
to  spoil.  thing  not  serviceable  in  war,  nor  tending  to  pro- 
long it,  as  pictures  and  statues.  Temples  and  sepulchres  are 
to  be  spared  for  the  same  or  even  stronger  reasons.  Though  it 
is  not  the  object  of  Grotius  to  lay  down  any  political  maxims, 
he  cannot  refrain  in  this  place  from  pointing  out  several  con- 
siderations of  expediency,  which  should  induce  us  to  restrain 
the  license  of  arms  within  the  limits  of  natural  law.3  There 
is  no  right  by  nature  to  more  booty,  strictly  speaking,  than  is 
sufficient  for  our  indemnity,  wherein  are  included  the  expenses 
of  the  war ;  and  the  property  of  innocent  persons,  being 
subjects  of  our  enemies,  is  only  liable  in  failure  of  those  who 
are  primarily  aggressors.4 

i  c,  10.  »  c  11.  »  o.  12.  «  c.  is. 


CHAP.  IV.  MODERATION  IN  WAK.  207 

137.  The  persons  of  prisoners  are  only  liable,  in  strict 
moral  justice,  so  far  as  is  required  for  satisfaction   And  ^  to 
of  our  injury.     The  slavery  into  which  they  may  be   prisoners. 
reduced  ought  not  to  extend  farther  than  an  obligation  of  per 
petual  servitude  in  return  for  maintenance.     The  power  over 
slaves  by  the  law  of  nature  is  far  short  of  what  -the  arbitrary 
law  of  nations  permits,  and  does  not  give  a  right  of  exacting 
too  severe  labor,  or  of  inflating  punishment  beyond  desert. 
The  peculium,  or  private  acquisitions  of  a  slave  by  economy 
or  donation,  ought  to  be  reckoned  his  property.     Slaves,  how- 
ever, captured  in  a  just  war,  though  one  in  which  they  have 
had  no  concern,  are  not  warranted  in  conscience  to  escape, 
and  recover  their  liberty.     But  the  children  of  such  slaves 
are  not  in  servitude  by  the  law  of  nature,  except  so  far  as 
they  have  been  obliged  to  their  master  for  subsistence  in 
infancy.     With  respect  to  prisoners,  the  better  course  is  to 
let  them  redeem  themselves  by  a  ransom,  which  ought  to  be 
moderate.1 

138.  The  acquisition  of  that  sovereignty  which  was  enjoyec 
by  a  conquered  people,  or  by  their  rulers,  is  not  only   ALSO  in 
legitimate,  so  far  as  is  warranted  by  the  punishment  COU(JUCRt;- 
they  have  deserved,  or  by  the  value  of  our  own  loss,  but  also 
so  far  as  the  necessity  of  securing  ourselves  extends.     This 
last  is  what  is  often  unsafe  to  remit  out  of  clemency.     It  is  a 
part  of  moderation  in  victory  to  incorporate  the  conquered 
with  our  own  citizens  on  equal  terms,  or  to  leave  their  inde- 
pendence on  reasonable  precautions  for  our  own  security.     If 
this  cannot  be  wholly  conceded,  their  civil  laws  and  municipal 
magistracies  may  be  preserved,  and,  above  all,  the  free  exer- 
cise of  their  religion.     The   interests  of  conquerors   are  as 
much  consulted,  generally,  as  their  reputation,  by  such  lenient 
use  of  their  advantages.2 

139.  It  is   consonant  to  natural  justice    that   we  should 
restore   to  the  original    owners    all    of  which  they 

have  been  despoiled  in  an  unjust  war,  when  it  falls   ^g^tution 
into  our  hands  by  a  lawful  conquest,  without  regard   t°  right 
to   the  usual  limits  of  postliminium.     Thus,  if  an 
ambitious  state  comes  to  be  stripped  of  its  usurpations,  this 
should  be  not  for  the  benefit  of  the  conqueror,  but  of  the 
ancient   possessors.       Length   of  time,   however,    will    raise 
the  presumption  of  abandonment.3     Nothing  should  be  taken 

1  C.  14.  »  C.  15.  »  0. 16 


208  PROMISES  TO  ENEMIES.  PART  Itt 

in  war  from  neutral  states,  except  through  necessity  and  with 
compensation.  The  most  ordinary  case  is  that  of  the  passage 
of  troops.  The  neutral  is  bound  to  strict  impartiality  in  a 
war  of  doubtful  justice.1  But  it  seems  to  be  the  opinion  of 
Grotius,  that,  by  the  law  of  nature,  every  one,  even  a  pri- 
vate man,  may  act  in  favor  of  the  innocent  party  as  far  as 
the  rights  of  war  extend,  except  that  he  cannot  appropriate 
to  himself  the  possessions  of  the  enemy  ;  that  right  being 
one  founded  on  indemnification.  But  civil  and  military  laws 
have  generally  restrained  this  to  such  as  obey  the  express 
order  of  their  government.2 

140.  The  license  of  war  is  restrained  either  by  the  laws  of 
Promises  to  nature  and  nations,  which  have  been  already  di>- 
enemiesand  cussed,  or  by  particular  engagement.  The  obliga- 
pirates.  ^jon  o^  promises  extends  to  enemies,  who  are  still 
parts  of  the  great  society  of  mankind.  Faith  is  to  be  kept 
even  with  tyrants,  robbers,  and  pirates.  He  here  again  ad- 
verts to  the  case  of  a  promise  made  under  an  unjust  compul- 
sion ;  and  possibly  his  reasoning  on  the  general  principle  is 
not  quite  put  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner.  It  would  now 
be  argued  that  the  violation  of  engagements  towards  the  worst 
of  mankind,  who  must  be  supposed  to  have  some  means  of 
self-defence,  on  account  of  which  we  propose  to  treat  with 
them,  would  produce  a  desperation  among  men  in  similar 
circumstances  injurious  to  society.  Or  it  might  be  urged,  that 
men  do  not  lose  by  their  crimes  a  right  to  the  performance  of 
all  engagements,  especially  when  they  have  fulfilled  their  own 
share  in  them,  but  only  of  such  as  involve  a  positive  injustice 
towards  the  other  party.  In  this  place  he  repeats  his  former 
doctrine,  that  the  most  invalid  promise  may  be  rendered 
binding  by  the  addition  of  an  oath.  It  follows,  from  the  gene- 
ral rule,  that  a  prince  is  bound  by  his  engagements  to  rebel 
subjects  ;  above  all,  if  they  have  had  the  precaution  to  exact 
his  oath.  And  thus  a  change  in  the  constitution  of  a  mo- 
narchy may  legitimately  take  place,  atid  it  may  become  mixed 
instead  of  absolute  by  the  irrevocable  concession  of  the  sov- 
ereign. The  rule,  that  promises  made  under  an  unjust  com- 
pulsion are  not  obligatory,  has  no  application  in  a  public  and 
regular  war.3  Barbeyrac  remarks  on  this,  that  if  a  conqueror, 

i  C  17.                      *  C.  19.  respect  to  the  general  obligation  of  such 

*  C.  19,   §   11.      There  seems,   as  has  promises,  which  he  maintains  in  the  se- 

been  intimated  abovo.  to  be  some  incon-  cond  book ;    and  now,  as  far  as  T  collect 

sistency  iu  the  doctrine  of  Grotius  with  his  meaning,  denies  by  implication 


CHAP.  IV.  TKEATIES.  209 

like  Alexander,  subdues  an  unoffending  people  with  no  spe- 
cious pretext  at  all,  he  does  not  perceive  why  they  should  be 
more  bound  in  conscience  to  keep  the  promises  of  obedience 
they  may  have  been  compelled  to  enter  into,  than  if  he  had 
been  an  ordinary  bandit.  And  this  remark  shows  us,  that  the 
celebrated  problem  in  casuistry,  as  to  the  obligation  of  com- 
pulsory promises,  has  far  more  important  consequences  than 
the  payment  of  a  petty  sum  to  a  robber.  In  two  cases,  how- 
over,  Grotius  holds  that  we  are  dispensed  from  keeping  an 
engagement  towards  an  enemy.  One  of  these  is,  when  it  has 
been  conditional,  and  the  other  party  has  not  fulfilled  his  part 
of  the  convention.  This  is,  of  course,  obvious,  and  can  only  be 
open  to  questions  as  to  the  precedence  of  the  condition.  The 
other  case  is  where  we  retain  what  is  due  to  us  by  way  of 
compensation,  notwithstanding  our  promise.  This  is  permis- 
sible in  certain  instances.1 

141.  The  obligation  of  treaties  of  peace  depends  on  their 
being  concluded  by  the  authority  which,  according  to   Treaties 
the  constitution   of  the  state,  is  sovereign  for  this    concluded 

IT—  11  ..•.">"  corn- 

purpose.     Kings  who  do  not  possess  a  patrimonial   petent 

sovereignty  cannot  alienate  any  part  of  their  domin-  authonty- 
ions  without  the  consent  of  the  nation  or  its  representatives : 
they  must  even  have  the  consent  of  the  city  or  province  which 
is  thus  to  be  transferred.  In  patrimonial  kingdoms,  the  sov- 
ereign may  alienate  the  whole,  but  not  always  a  part,  at 
pleasure.  He  seems,  however,  to  admit  an  ultimate  right  of 
sovereignty,  or  dominium  eminens,  by  which  all  states  may 
dispose  of  the  property  of  their  subjects,  and  consequently 
alienate  it  for  the  sake  of  a  great  advantage,  but  subject  to 
the  obligation  of  granting  them  an  indemnity.  He  even 
holds  that  the  community  is  naturally  bound  to  indemnify  pri- 
vate subjects  for  the  losses  they  sustain  in  war.  though  this 
right  of  reparation  may  be  taken  away  by  civil  laws.  The 
right  of  alienation  by  a  treaty  of  peace  is  only  questionable 
between  the  sovereign  and  his  subjects :  foreign  states  may 
presume  its  validity  in  their  own  favor.2 

142.  Treaties  of  peace  are  generally  founded  on  one  of  two 
principles ;  that  the  parties  shall  return  to  the  con-   Matters 
dition  wherein  they  were  before  the  commencement   relating  to 
of  hostilities,  or  that  they  shall  retain  what  they  pos-   t] 

sess  at  their  conclusion.     The  last  is  to  be  presumed  in  a  case 

i  c.  i».  >  c.  20. 

VOL.  m.  14 


210  TEUCES  AND  CONVENTIONS.  PART  HI. 

of  doubtful  interpretation.  A  treaty  of  peace  extinguishes  all 
public  grounds  of  quarrel,  whether  known  to  exist  or  not,  but 
does  not  put  an  end  to  the  claims  of  private  men  subsisting 
before  the  war,  the  extinguishment  of  which  is  never  to  be 
presumed.  The  other  rules  of  interpretation  which  he  lays 
down  are,  as  usual  with  him,  derived  rather  from  natural 
equity  than  the  practice  of  mankind,  though  with  no  neglect 
or  scorn  of  the  latter.  He  maintains  the  right  of  giving  an 
asylum  to  the  banished,  but  not  of  receiving  large  bodies  of 
men  who  abandon  their  country.1 

143.  The  decision  of  lot  may  be  adopted  in  some  cases,  in 
order  to  avoid  a  war,  wherein  we  have  little  chance  of  resist- 
ing an  enemy.     But  that  of  single  combat,  according  to  Gro- 
tius's  opinion,  though  not  repugnant  to  the  law  of  nature,  is 
incompatible  with  Christianity ;   unless  in  the  case  where  a 
party,  unjustly  assailed,  has  no  other  means  of  defence.     Ai'- 
bitration  by  a  neutral  power  is  another  method  of  settling 
differences,  and  in  this  we  are  bound  to   acquiesce.     Wars 
may  also  be  terminated  by  implicit  submission  or  by  capitula- 
tion.    The  rights  which  this  gives  to  a  conqueror  have  been 
already  discussed.     He  concludes  this   chapter   with   a  few 
observations  upon  hostages  and  pledges.     "With  respect  to  the 
latter,  he  holds  that  they  may  be  reclaimed  after  any  lapse  of 
time,  unless  there  is  a  presumption  of  tacit  abandonment.2 

144.  A  truce  is  an  interval  of  war,  and  does  not  require   \ 
Truces  and  fresh  declaration  at  its  close.     No  act  of  hostility  13 
conventions. iawfui  during  its  continuance:   the  infringement  of 
this  rule  by  either  party  gives  the  other  a  right  to  take  up 
arms  without  delay.     Safe  conducts  are  to  be  construed  libe- 
rally, rejecting  every  meaning  of  the  words  which  does  not 
reach  their  spirit.     Thus  a  safe  conduct  to  go  to  a  place  im- 
plies the  right   of  returning   unmolested.     The   ransom   of 
prisoners  ought  to  be  favored.3     A  state  is  bound  by  the  con- 
ventions in  war  made  by  its  officers,  provided  they  are  such  as 
may  reasonably  be  presumed  to  lie  within  their  delegated  au- 
thority, or  such  as  they  have  a  special  commission  to  warrant, 
known  to  the  other  contracting  party.     A  state  is  also  bound 
by  its  tacit  ratification  in  permitting  the  execution  of  any  part 
of  such  a  treaty,  though  in  itself  not  obligatory,  and  also  by 
availing  itself  of  any  advantage   thereby.     Grotius   dwells 
afterwards  on  many  distinctions  relating  to  this  subject,  which, 

»  c.  20.  •  id.  »  o.  21. 


CHAP.  IV.  PALEY'S  OBJECTIONS.  211 

however,  as  far  as  they  do  not  resolve  themselves  into  the 
general  principle,  are  to  be  considered  on  the  ground  of  posi- 
tive regulation.1 

145.  Private  persons,  whether  bearing  arms  or  not,  are  as 
much  bound  as  their  superiors  by  the  engagements   ^^g  of 
they  contract  with  an  enemy.     This  applies  particu-   private 
larly  to  the  parole  of  a  prisoner.     The  engagement  p 

not  to  serve  again,  though  it  has  been  held  null  by  some 
jurists,  as  contrary  to  our  obligation  towards  our  country,  is 
valid.  It  has  been  a  question,  whether  the  state  ought  to 
compel  its  citizens  to  keep  their  word  towards  the  enemy. 
The  better  opinion  is,  that  it  should  do  so ;  and  this  has  been 
the  practice  of  the  most  civilized  nations.2  Those  who  put 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  a  state  engage  to  do 
nothing  hostile  towards  it.  Hence  such  actions  as  that  of 
Zopyrus,  who  betrayed  Babylon  under  the  guise  of  a  refugee, 
are  not  excusable.  Several  sorts  of  tacit  engagements  are 
established  by  the  usage  of  nations,  as  that  of  raising  a  white 
flag  in  token  of  a  desire  to  suspend  arms.  These  are  excep- 
tions from  the  general  rule  which  authorizes  deceit  in  war.3 
In  the  concluding  chapter  of  the  whole  treatise,  Grotius  briefly 
exhorts  all  states  to  preserve  good  faith  and  to  seek  peace  at 
all  times,  upon  the  mild  principles  of  Christianity.4 

146.  If  the  reader  has  had  the  patience  to  make  his  way 
through  the   abstract  of  Grotius,   De   Jure  Belli,  objections 
that  we   have  placed  before  him,  he  mil  be  fully  ^J^f118' 
prepared  to  judge  of  the  criticisms  made  upon  this  Paiey,  un- 
treatise   by   Paley    and    Dugald    Stewart.     "The  reasonabu 
writings  of  Grotius  and  PufFendorf,"  says  the  former,  "  are 
of  too    forensic  a  cast,  too  much  mixed  up  with  civil  law 
and  with  the  jurisprudence  of  Germany,  to  answer  precisely 
the   design   of  a  system  of  ethics,  the  direction   of  private 
consciences  in  the  general  conduct  of  human  life."     But  it 
was   not   the   intention  of  Grotius  (we   are   not   at  present 
concerned  with  Puffendorf )   to  furnish  a  system  of  ethics ; 
nor  did  any  one  ever   hold   forth  his  treatise  in  this  light. 
Upon  some  most  important  branches  of  morality  he  has  cer- 
tainly dwelt  so  fully  as  to  answer  the  purpose  of  "•  directing 
the    private  conscience  in  the  conduct  of  life."     The   great 
aim,  however,  of  his  inquiries  was  to  ascertain  the  principles 
of  natural  right  applicable  to  independent  communities. 

1  C.  22.  *  C.  23.  »  0.  24.  «  C.  26 


212  REPLY  OF  MACKINTOSH.  PART  in. 

147.  Paley,  it  must  be  owned,  has  a  more  specious  ground 
of  accusation   in   his   next   charge   against   Grotius  for   the 
profusion  of  classical  quotations.     "  To  any  thing  more  than 
ornament   they  can   make   no  claim.     To   propose    them  as 
serious  arguments,  gravely  to  attempt  to  establish  or  fortify 
a  moral  duty  by  the  testimony  of  a  Greek  or  Roman  poet, 
is  to  trifle  with  the  reader,  or  rather  take  off  his  attention 
from  all  just  principles  in  morals." 

148.  A  late  eminent  writer  has  answered  this   from  the 
f      text  of  Grotius,   but  in   more   eloquent   language 

Mackm-  than  Grotius  could  have  employed.  "Another 
answer,"  says  Mackintosh,  "  is  due  to  some  of  those 
who  have  criticised  Grotius ;  and  that  answer  might  be  given 
in  the  words  of  Grotius  himself.  He  was  not  of  such  a 
stupid  and  servile  cast  of  mind,  as  to  quote  the  opinions  of 
poets  or  orators,  of  historians  and  philosophers,  as  those 
of  judges  from  whose  decision  there  was  no  appeal.  He 
quotes  them,  as  he  tells  us  himself,  as  witnesses,  whose  con- 
spiring testimony,  mightily  strengthened  and  confirmed  by 
their  discordance  on  almost  every  other  subject,  is  a  con- 
clusive proof  of  the  unanimity  of  the  whole  human  race  on 
the  great  rules  of  duty  and  the  fundamental  principles  of 
morals.  On  such  matters,  poets  and  orators  are  the  most 
unexceptionable  of  all  witnesses  :  for  they  address  themselves 
to  the  general  feelings  and  sympathies  of  mankind ;  they 
are  neither  warped  by  system,  nor  perverted  by  sophistry ; 
they  can  attain  none  of  their  objects,  they  can  neither  please 
nor  persuade,  if  they  dwell  on  moral  sentiments  not  in 
unison  with  those  of  their  readers.  No  system  of  moral 
philosophy  can  surely  disregard  the  general  feelings  of  human 
nature,  and  the  according  judgment  of  all  ages  and  nations. 
But  where  are  these  feelings  and  that  judgment  recorded  and 
preserved  ?  In  those  very  writings  which  Grotius  is  gravely 
blamed  for  having  quoted.  The  usages  and  laws  of  nations, 
the  events  of  history,  the  opinions  of  philosophers,  the  senti- 
ments of  orators  and  poets,  as  well  as  the  observation  of 
common  life,  are,  in  truth,  the  materials  out  of  which  the 
science  of  morality  is  formed ;  and  those  who  neglect  them 
are  justly  chargeable  with  a  vain  attempt  to  philosophize 
without  regard  to  fact  and  experience,  —  the  sole  foundation 
of  all  true  philosophy."1 

1  Mackintosh,  Discourse  on  the  Study  of  the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations,  p.  2£ 
(edit.  1828). 


CHAP.  IV.  CENSURES  OF  STEWART.  213 

149.  The   passage  in   Grotius   which  has   suggested   this 
noble   defence   will  be   found   above.     It   will   be   seen,  on 
reference  to   it,  that   he   proposes  to   quote   the    poets  and 
orators  cautiously,  and  rather   as  ornamental  than  authori- 
tative  supports   of  his   argument.      In   no   one   instance,   I 
believe,  will  he  be  found  to  "  enforce  a  moral  duty,"  as  Paley 
imagines,  by  their  sanction.     It  is,  nevertheless,  to  be  fairly 
acknowledged,  that  he  has  sometimes  gone  a  good  deal  farther 
than  the  rules  of  a  pure  taste  allow  in  accumulating  quota- 
tions from  the  poets ;   and  that,  in  an  age  so  impatient  of 
prolixity  as  the  last,  this  has   stood  much  in  the  way  of  the 
general  reader. 

150.  But  these  criticisms  of  Paley  contain  very  trifling 
censure   in  comparison  with    the   unbounded  scorn   censures 
poured  on  Grotius  by  Dugald  Stewart,  in  his  first  ofstewart- 
Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  Philosophy.     I  have  never 
read  these  pages  of  an  author  whom  I  had  unfortunately  not 
the  opportunity  of  personally  knowing,  but  whose  researches 
have  contributed  so  much  to  the  delight  and  advantage  of 
mankind,  without  pain  and  surprise.     It  would  be  too  much 
to  say,  that,  in  several  parts  of  this  Dissertation,  by  no  means 
in  the  first  class  of  Stewart's  writings,  other  proofs  of  precipi- 
tate judgment  do  not  occur ;  but  that  he  should  have  spoken 
of  a  work  so  distinguished  by  fame,  and  so  effective,  as  he 
himself  admits,  over  the   public   mind   of  Europe,  in  terms 
of  unmingled  depreciation,  without  having  done    more   than 
glanced  at  some  of  its  pages,  is  an  extraordinary  symptom 
of  that  tendency  towards  prejudices,  hasty  but  inveterate,  of 
which  this  eminent  man   seems   to   have  been   not   a   little 
susceptible.     The  attack  made  by  Stewart  on  those  who  have 
taken  the   law  of  nature   and   nations   as  their  theme,  and 
especially  on  Grotius,  who  stands  forward  in  that  list,  is  pro- 
tracted for  several  pages ;  and  it  would  be  tedious  to  examine 
every  sentence  in  succession.     Were  I  to  do  so,  it  is  not,  in 
my  opinion,  an  exaggeration  to  say,  that  almost  every  suc- 
cessive  sentence  would-  lie  open  to  criticism.     But   let   us 
take  the  chief  heads  of  accusation. 

151.  "Grotius,"  we   are  told,  "under   the  title  De  Jure 
Belli  ac    Pacis,  has  aimed   at  a  complete   system   Answer  to 
of  natural  law.     Condillac  says,  that  he  chose  the   them- 
title  in  order  to  excite  a  more  general  curiosity."     The  total 
erroneousness  of  this  passage  must  appear  to  every  one  who 


214  ANSWER  TO  STEWART'S  CENSURES.        PART  ILu 

has  seen  what  Grotius  declares  to  have  been  his  primary 
object.  He  chose  the  title  because  it  came  nearest  to  express 
that  object,  —  the  ascertainment  of  laws  binding  on  inde- 
pendent communities  in  their  mutual  relations,  whether  of 
war  or  peace.  But  as  it  was  not  possible  to  lay  down  any 
solid  principles  of  international  right  till  the  notions  of  right 
of  sovereignty,  of  dominion  over  things  and  persons,  of  war 
itself,  were  clearly  established,  it  became  indispensable  to 
build  upon  a  more  extensive  basis  than  later  writers  on  the 
law  of  nations,  who  found  the  labor  performed  to  their  hands, 
have  thought  necessary.  All  ethical  philosophy,  even  in 
those  parts  which  bear  a  near  relation  to  jurisprudence  and 
to  international  law,  was,  in  the  age  of  Grotius,  a  chaos  of 
incoherent  and  arbitrary  notions,  brought  in  from  various 
sources,  —  from  the  ancient  schools,  from  the  Scriptures,  the 
fathers,  the  canons,  the  casuistical  theologians,  the  rabbins, 
the  jurists,  as  well  as  from  the  practice  and  sentiments  of 
every  civilized  nation,  past  and  present,  the  Jews,  the  Greeks 
and  Romans,  the  trading  republics,  the  chivalrous  kingdoms 
of  modern  Europe.  If  Grotius  has  not  wholly  disentangled 
himself  from  this  bewildering  maze,  through  which  he  pain- 
fully traces  his  way  by  the  lights  of  reason  and  revelation,  he 
has  at  least  cleared  up  much,  and  put  others  still  oftener 
in  the  right  path,  where  he  has  not  been  able  to  follow  it. 
Condillac,  as  here  quoted  by  Stewart,  has  anticipated  Paley's 
charge  against  Grotius,  of  laboring  to  support  his  conclusions 
by  the  authority  of  others,  and  of  producing  a  long  string 
of  quotations  to  prove  the  most  indubitable  propositions.  In 
what  degree  this  very  exaggerated  remark  is  true,  we  have 
already  seen.  But  it  should  be  kept  in  mind,  that  neither 
the  disposition  of  the  age  in  which  Grotius  lived,  nor  the  real 
necessity  of  illustrating  every  part  of  his  inquiries  by  the 
precedent  usages  of  mankind,  would  permit  him  to  treat  of 
moral  philosophy  as  of  the  abstract  theorems  of  geometry. 
If  his  erudition  has  sometimes  obstructed  or  misled  him, 
which  perhaps  has  not  so  frequently  happened  as  these  critics 
assume,  it  is  still  true,  that  a  contemptuous  ignorance  of  what 
has  been  done  or  has  been  taught,  such  as  belonged  to  the 
school  of  Condillac  and  to  that  of  Paley,  does  not  very  well 
qualify  the  moral  philosopher  for  inquiry  into  the  principles 
which  are  to  regulate  human  nature. 

152.  "Among  the  different  ideas,"  Stewart  observes,  "which 


CHAP.  IV.  NATURAL  JURISPRUDENCE.  215 

have  been  formed  of  natural  jurisprudence,  one  of  the  most 
common,  especially  in  the  earlier  systems,  supposes  its  object 
to  be,  to  lay  down  those  rules  of  justice  which  would  be 
binding  on  men  living  in  a  social  state  without  any  positive 
institutions ;  or,  as  it  is  frequently  called  by  writers  on  this 
subject,  living  together  in  a  state  of  nature.  This  idea  of  the 
province  of  jurisprudence  seems  to  have  been  uppermost  in 
the  mind  of  Grotius  in  various  parts  of  his  treatise."  After 
some  conjectures  on  the  motives  which  led  the  early  writers 
to  take  this  view  of  national  law,  and  admitting  that  the  rules 
of  justice  are  in  every  case  precise  and  indispensable,  and 
that  their  authority  is  altogether  independent  of  that  of  the 
civil  magistrate,  he  deems  it  "obviously  absurd  to  spend  much 
time  in  speculating  about  the  principles  of  this  natural  law, 
as  applicable  to  men  before  the  institution  of  governments." 
It  may  possibly  be  as  absurd  as  he  thinks  it.  But  where  has 
Grotius  shown,  that  this  condition  of  natural  society  was 
uppermost  in  his  thoughts  ?  Of  the  state  of  nature,  as  it 
existed  among  individuals  before  the  foundation  of  any  civil 
institutions,  he  says  no  more  than  was  requisite  in  order  to 
exhibit  the  origin  of  those  rights  which  spring  from  property 
and  government.  But  that  he  has,  in  some  part  especially 
of  his  second  book,  dwelt  upon  the  rules  of  justice  binding  on 
men  subsequent  to  the  institution  of  property,  but  independ- 
ently of  positive  laws,  is  most  certain ;  nor  is  it  possible  for 
any  one  to  do  otherwise  who  does  not  follow  Hobbes  in  con- 
founding moral  with  legal  obligation ;  a  theory  to  which  Mr. 
Stewart  was  of  all  men  the  most  averse. 

153.  Natural  jurisprudence  is  a  term  that  is  not  always 
taken  in  the  same  sense.  It  seems  to  be  of  English  origin  ; 
nor  am  I  certain,  though  my  memory  may  deceive  me,  that  I 
have  ever  met  with  it  in  Latin  or  in  French.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, as  jurisprudence  means  the  science  of  law,  and  is 
especially  employed  with  respect  to  the  Roman,  natural  juris- 
prudence must  be  the  science  of  morals,  or  the  law  of  nature. 
It  is,  therefore,  in  this  sense,  co-extensive  with  ethics,  and 
comprehends  the  rules  of  temperance,  liberality,  and  benevo- 
lence, as  much  as  those  of  justice.  Stewart,  however,  seems 
to  consider  this  idea  of  jurisprudence  as  an  arbitrary  exten- 
sion of  the  science  derived  from  the  technical  phraseology  of 
the  Roman  law.  "  Some  vague  notion  of  this  kind,"  he  says, 
"has  manifestly  given  birth  to  many  of  the  digiessions  of 


216  UNIVERSAL  JURISPRUDENCE.  PART  HI 

Grotius."  It  may  have  been  seen  by  the  analysis  of  the 
entire  treatise  of  Grotius,  above  given,  that  none  of  his  digres- 
sions, if  such  they  are  to  be  called,  have  originated  in  any 
vague  notion  of  an  identity,  or  proper  analogy,  between  the 
strict  rules  of  justice  and  those  of  the  other  virtues.  The 
Aristotelian  division  of  justice  into  commutative  and  distribu- 
tive, which  Grotius  has  adopted,  might  seem  in  some  respect 
to  bear  out  this  supposition ;  but  it  is  evident,  from  the  con- 
text of  Stewart's  observations,  that  he  was  referring  only  to 
the  former  species,  or  justice  in  its  more  usual  sense,  the 
observance  of  perfect  rights,  whose  limits  may  be  accurately 
determined,  and  whose  violation  may  be  redressed. 

154.  Natural  jurisprudence  has  another  sense  imposed  upon 
it  by  Adam  Smith.     According  to  this  sense,  its  object,  in  the 
words  of  Stewart,  is  "  to  ascertain  the  general  principles  of 
justice  which  ought  to  be  recognized  in  every  municipal  code, 
and  to  which  it  ought  to  be  the  aim  of  every  legislator  to 
accommodate  his  institutions."     Grotius,  in  Smith's  opinion, 
was   "the  first   who  attempted  to  give  the  world  any  thing 
like  a  system  of  those  principles  which  ought  to  run  through, 
and  to  be  the  foundation  of,  the  laws  of  all  nations ;   and  his 
treatise  on  the  laws  of  peace  and  war,  with  all  its  imperfec- 
tions, is,  perhaps,  at  this  day  the  most  complete  book  that 
has  yet  been  given  on  the  subject." 

155.  The  first,  probably,  in  modern  times,  who  conceived 
the  idea  of  an  universal  jurisprudence  was  Lord  Bacon.     He 
places  among  the  desiderata  of  political  science  the  province 
of  universal  justice  or  the  sources  of  law.     "Id  nunc  agatur, 
ut  fontes  justitiae  et  utilitatis  publicae  petantur,  et  in  singulis 
juris  partibus  character  quidam  et  idea  justi  exhibeatur,  ad 
quern  particularium  regnorum  et  rerumpublicarum  leges  pro- 
bare,  atque  inde  emendationem  moliri,  quisque,  cui  haec  cordi 
erit  et  curse,  possit."1    The  maxims  which  follow  are  an  admi- 
rable illustration  of  the  principles  which  should  regulate  the 
enactment  and  expression  of  laws,  as  well  as  of  much  that 
should  guide,  in  a  general  manner,  the  decision  of  courts  of 
justice.     They  touch  very  slightly,  if  at  all,  any  subject  which 
Grotius  has  handled ;  but  certainly  come  far  closer  to  natural 
jurisprudence,  in  the  sense  of  Smith,  inasmuch  as  they  con- 
tain principles  which  have  no  limitation  to  the  circumstances 
of  particular   societies.      These   maxims   of  Bacon,   and   all 

i  De  Augmentis,  lib.  Till. 


CHAP.  IV.  CSTFAffiNESS  OF  STEWART.  217 

others  that  seem  properly  to  come  within  the  province  of  juris- 
prudence in  this  sense,  which  is  now  become  not  uncommon, 
the  science  of  universal  law,  are  resolvable  partly  into  those 
of  natural  justice,  partly  into  those  of  public  expediency. 
Little,  however,  could  be  objected  against  the  admission  of 
universal  jurisprudence,  in  this  sense,  among  the  sciences. 
But  if  it  is  meant  that  any  systematic  science,  whether  by  the 
name  of  jurisprudence  or  legislation,  can  be  laid  down  as  to 
the  principles  which  ought  to  determine  the  institutions  of  all 
nations,  or  that,  in  other  words,  the  laws  of  each  separate 
community  ought  to  be  regulated  by  any  universal  standard, 
in  matters  not  depending  upon  eternal  justice,  we  must  demur 
to  receiving  so  very  disputable  a  proposition.  It  is  probable 
that  Adam  Smith  had  no  thoughts  of  asserting  it ;  yet  his 
language  is  not  very  clear,  and  he  seems  to  have  assigned 
some  object  to  Grotius  distinct  from  the  establishment  of 
natural  and  international  law.  "Whether  this  was,"  says 
Stewart,  "  or  was  not,  the  leading  object  of  Grotius,  it  is  not 
material  to  decide ;  but,  if  this  was  his  object,  it  will  not  be 
disputed  that  he  has  executed  his  design  in  a  very  desultory 
manner,  and  that  he  often  seems  to  have  lost  sight  of  it  alto- 
gether, in  the  midst  of  those  miscellaneous  speculations  on 
political,  ethical,  and  historical  subjects,  which  form  so  large  a 
portion  of  his  treatise,  and  which  so  frequently  succeed  each 
other  without  any  apparent  connection  or  common  aim." 

156.  The  unfairness  of  this  passage  it  is  now  hardly  incum- 
bent upon  me  to  point  out.  The  reader  has  been  enabled 
to  answer  that  no  political  speculation  will  be  found  in  the 
volume  De  Jure  Belli  ac  Pacis,  unless  the  disquisition  on 
the  origin  of  human  society  is  thus  to  be  denominated ;  that  the 
instances  continually  adduced  from  history  are  always  in  illus- 
tration of  the  main  argument ;  and  that  what  are  here  called 
ethical  speculations  are  in  fact  the  real  subject  of  the  book, 
since  it  avowedly  treats  of  obligations  on  the  conscience  of 
mankind,  and  especially  of  their  rulers.  Whether  the  vari- 
ous topics  in  this  treatise  "  succeed  each  other  without  appa- 
rent connection  or  common  aim,"  may  best  be  seen  by  the 
titles  of  the  chapters,  or  by  the  analysis  of  their  contents. 
There  are  certainly  a  very  few  of  these  that  have  little  in 
common,  even  by  deduction  or  analogy,  with  international 
law ;  though  scarce  any,  I  think,  which  do  not  rise  naturally 
out  of  the  previous  discussion.  Exuberances  of  this  kind 


218  GROTIUS  VINDICATED  AGAINST  PAKT  HI. 

are  so  common  in  writers  of  great  reputation,  that,  where  they 
do  not  transgress  more  than  Grotius  has  done,  the  censure  of 
irrelevancy  lias  been  always  reckoned  hypercritical. 

157.  "The  Roman  system  of  jurisprudence,"  Mr.  Stewart 
proceeds  "  seems  to  have  warped,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree, 
the  notions  of  Grotius  on  all  questions  connected  with  the 
theory  of  legislation,  and  to  have  diverted  his  attention  from 
that  philosophical  idea  of  law  so  well  expressed  by  Cicero : 
*  Non  a  praetoris  edicto,  neque  a  duodecim  tabulis,  sed  penitus 
ex  intima  philosophia  hauriendam  juris  disciplinam.'     In  this 
idolatry,  indeed,  of  the  Roman  law,  he  has  not  gone  so  far  as 
some  of  his  commentators,  who  have  affirmed  that  it  is  only  a 
different  name  for  the  law  of  nature  ;  but  that  his  partiality  for 
his  professional  pursuits  has  often  led  him  to  overlook  the 
immense  difference  between  the  state  of  society  in  ancient  and 
modern  Europe  will  not,  I  believe,  now  be  disputed."     It  is 
probable  that  it  will  be  disputed  by  all  who  are  acquainted 
with  Grotius.     The  questions  connected  with  the  theory  of 
legislation  which  he  has  discussed  are  chiefly  those  relating 
to  the  acquisition  and  alienation  of  property  in  some  of  the 
earlier  chapters  of  the  second  book.     That  he  has  not,  in 
these   disquisitions,   adopted   all   the   determinations    of  the 
Roman  jurists,  is    certain :   whether   he  may  in   any  parti- 
cular instance   have   adhered   to   them   more  than  the  best 
theory  of  legislation  would  admit,  is  a  matter  of  variable 
opinion.      But  Stewart,  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  civil 
laws,  appears  to  have  much  underrated  their  value.     In  most 
questions  of  private  right,  they  form  the  great  basis  of  every 
modern  legislation  ;  and  as  all  civilized  nations,  including  our 
own,  have  derived  a  large   portion   of  their  jurisprudence 
from  this  source,  so  even  the  theorists,  who  would  disdain  to 
be   ranked   as   disciples   of  Paullus   and  Fapinian,  are  not 
ashamed  to  be  the.ir  plagiaries. 

158.  It  has  been  thrown  out  against  Grotius  by  Rousseau,1 

—  and  the  same  insinuation  maybe  found  in  other 
vindicated  writers,  —  that  he  confounds  the  fact  with  the  ri^lit, 
Kounst  an<^  *^e  duties  °f  nations  with  their  practice.  How 

little  foundation  there  is  for  this  calumny  is  suffi- 
ciently apparent  to  our  readers.  Scrupulous,  as  a  casuist,  to 
an  excess  hardly  reconcilable  with  the  security  and  welfare  of 
good  men,  he  was  the  first,  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  cou- 

*  Contrat  Social. 


CHAP.  IV.  STEWART  AXD  ROUSSEAU  219 

fessional  or  the  church,  to  pour  the  dictates  of  a  saint-like 
innocence  into  the  ears  of  princes.  It  is  true,  that  in  recog- 
nizing the  legitimacy  of  slavery,  and  in  carrying  too  far  the 
principles  of  obedience  to  government,  he  may  be  thought  to 
have  deprived  mankind  of  some  of  their  security  against 
injustice  ;  but  this  is  exceedingly  different  from  a  sanction  to 
it.  An  implicit  deference  to  what  he  took  for  divine  truth 
was  the  -first  axiom  in  the  philosophy  of  Grotius.  If  he  was 
occasionally  deceived  in  his  application  of  this  principle,  it 
was  but  according  to  the  notions  of  his  age ;  but  those  who 
wholly  reject  the  authority  must,  of  course,  want  a  common 
standard  by  which  his  speculations  in  moral  philosophy  can 
be  reconciled  with  their  own. 

159.  I  mu~t  now  quit  a  subject  upon  which,  perhaps,  I 
have  dwelt  too  long.     The  high  fame  of  Dugald  Stewart  has 
rendered  it  a  sort  of  duty  to  vindicate  from  his  hasty  cen 
sures  the  memory  of  one  still  more  illustrious  in  reputation, 
till  the  lapse  of  time  and  the  fickleness  of  literary  fashion 
conspired  with  the  popularity  of  his  assailants  to  magnify  his 
defects,  and  meet  the  very  name  of  his  famous  treatise  with 
a  kind  of  scornful  ridicule.     That  Stewart  had  never  read 
much  of  Grotius,  or  even  gone  over  the  titles  of  his  chap- 
ters, is  very  manifest ;   and  he  displays  a  similar  ignorance 
as  to  the  other  writers  on  natural  law,  who  for  more  than 
a  century  afterwards,  as  he  admits  himself,  exercised  a  great 
influence   over   the   studies  of  Europe.     I  have  commented 
upon  very  few,  comparatively,  of  the  slips  which   occur   in 
his  pages  on  this  subject. 

160.  The   arrangement   of  Grotius   has   been  blamed  aa 
unscientific   by  a   more  friendly  judge,  Sir  James  His  arrange 
Mackintosh.     Though  I  do  not  feel  very  strongly  ment- 

the  force  of  his  objections,  it  is  evident  that  the  law  of  nature 
might  have  been  established  on  its  basis,  before  the  author 
passed  forward  to  any  disquisition  upon  its  reference  to  in- 
dependent communities.  This  would  have  changed  a  good 
deal  the  principal  object  that  Grotius  had  in  view,  and 
brought  his  treatise,  hi  point  of  method,  very  near  to  that 
of  Puffendorf.  But  assuming,  as  he  did,  the  authority  recog- 
nized by  those  for  whom  he  wrote,  that  of  the  Scriptures, 
he  was  less  inclined  to  dwell  on  the  proof  which  reason 
affords  for  a  natural  law,  though  fully  satisfied  of  its  validity 
even  without  reference  to  the  Supreme  Being. 


220  DEFECTS  OF  GROTIUS.  PABT  IIL 

161.  The  real  faults  of  Grotius,  leading  to  erroneous 
determinations,  seem  to  be  rather  an  unnecessary 
scrupulousness,  and  somewhat  of  old  theological  pre- 
judice, from  which  scarce  any  man  in  his  age,  who  was  not 
wholly  indifferent  to  religion,  had  liberated  himself.  The 
notes  of  Barbeyrac  seldom  fail  to  correct  this  leaning. 
Several  later  writers  on  international  law  have  treated  his 
doctrine  of  an  universal  law  of  nations,  founded  on  the 
agreement  of  mankind,  as  an  empty  chimera  of  his  inven- 
tion. But  if  he  only  meant  by  this  the  tacit  consent,  or, 
in  other  words,  the  general  custom,  of  civilized  nations,  it 
does  not  appear  that  there  is  much  difference  between  bis 
theory  and  that  of  Wolf  or  VatteL 


CHAP.  V.  THE  SEICENTISTI.  221 


CHAPTER  V. 


HISTORY    OP    POETKY    FROM    1600    TO    1650. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  ITALIAN  POETRY. 

Characters  of  the  Poeta  of  the  Seventeenth  Century  —  Sometimes  too  much  lepro- 
dated — Marini  —  Tassoni  —  Chiabrera, 

1.  AT  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  few  remained  in 
Italy  to  whom  posterity  has  assigned  a  considerable 
reputation  for  their  poetry.     But  the  ensuing  period  ^i^fof 
has  stood  lower,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  opinion  of    the  Seicen- 
later  ages,  than  any  other  since  the  revival  of  letters. 

The  seicentisti,  the  writers  of  the  seventeenth  century,  were 
stigmatized  in  modern  criticism,  till  the  word  has  been 
associated  with  nothing  but  false  taste  and  every  thing  that 
should  be  shunned  and  despised.  Those  who  had  most 
influence  in  leading  the  literary  judgment  of  Italy  went  back, 
some  almost  exclusively  to  the  admiration  of  Petrarch  and 
his  contemporaries,  some  to  the  various  writers  who  culti- 
vated their  native  poetry  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Salvini 
is  of  the  former  class ;  Muratori,  of  the  latter.1 

2.  The  last  age,  that  is  the  concluding  twenty  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  brought  with  it,  in  many  respects, 

a  change  of  public  sentiment  in  Italy.  A  mascu-  so  great  as 
line  turn  of  thought,  an  expanded  grasp  of  philosophy,  formerly- 
a  thirst,  ardent  to  excess,  for  great  exploits  and  noble  praise, 
has  distinguished  the  Italian  people  of  the  last  fifty  years 
from  their  progenitors  of  several  preceding  generations. 
It  is  possible  that  the  enhanced  relative  importance  of  the 
Lombards  in  their  national  literature  may  have  not  been 

1  Muratori,  Delia  Perfetta  Poesia,  is  one    tained  some  remarks  by  Salvini,  a  bigoted 
of  the  best  books  of  criticism  in  the  Italian    Florentine, 
language :  in  the  second  volume  are  con- 


222  THE  SEICENTISTI.  PART  m. 

without  its  influence  in  rendering  the  public  taste  less  fas- 
tidious as  to  purity  of  language,  less  fine  in  that  part  of 
sesthetic  discernment  which  relates  to  the  grace  and  felicity 
of  expression,  while  it  became  also  more  apt  to  demand 
originality,  nervousness,  and  the  power  of  exciting  emotion. 
The  writers  of  the  seventeenth  century  may,  in  some  cases, 
have  gained  by  this  revolution ;  but  those  of  the  preceding 
ages,  especially  the  Petrarchists  whom  Bembo  had  led,  have 
certainly  lost  ground  in  national  admiration. 

3.  Rubbi,  editor  of  the  voluminous  collection  called  Par- 
praise  of     nas°  Italiano,  had  the  courage   to   extol  the  seicen- 
them  by      tisti  for  their  genius  and  fancy,  and  even  to  place 

bbi>  them,  in  all  but  style,  above  their  predecessors. 
"  Give  them,"  he  says,  "  but  grace  and  purity,  take  from  them 
their  capricious  exaggerations,  their  perpetual  and  forced 
metaphors,  you  will  think  Marini  the  first  poet  of  Italy ;  and 
his  followers,  with  their  fulness  of  imagery  and  personifi- 
cation, will  make  you  forget  their  monotonous  predecessors. 
I  do  not  advise  you  to  make  a  study  of  the  seicentisti ;  it 
would  spoil  your  style,  perhaps  your  imagination :  I  only  tell 
you  that  they  were  the  true  Italian  poets.  They  wanted  a 
good  style,  it  is  admitted ;  but  they  were  so  far  from  wanting 
genius  and  imagination,  that  these  perhaps  tended  to  impair 
their  style."1 

4.  It  is  probable  that  every  native  critic  would  think  some 
Also  by       parts  of  this  panegyric,  and  especially  the  strongly 
Sam<          hyperbolical  praise  of  Marini,  carried  too  far.     But 
I  am  not   sure   that  we  should  be  wrong  in  agreeing  with 
Rubbi,  that  there  is  as  much  catholic  poetry,  by  which  I  mean 
that  which  is  good  in   all  ages  and  countries,   in   some   of 
the  minor  productions  of  the  seventeenth  as  in  those  of  the 
sixteenth    age.      The   sonnets,   especially,   have    more   indi- 
viduality and   more   meaning.     In   this,  however,   I   should 
wish  to  include  the  latter  portion  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Salfi,  a  writer  of  more  taste  and  judgment  than  Rubbi,  lias 
recently  taken   the   same   side,  and   remarked   the   superior 
originality,  the    more  determined   individuality,  the  greater 
variety  of  subjects ;   above  all,  what  the  Italians  now  most 
value,  the  more  earnest  patriotism  of  the  later  poets.2     Those 

1  Parnaso  Italiano,  vol.  xli.  (Awertimento.)  Rubbi,  however,  gives  but  two,  out 
of  his  long  collection  in  fifty  volumes,  to  the  writers  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

1  Salfi,  Ilist.  Litt.  de  1'Italie  (continuation  de  Ginguene),  vol.  xii.  p.  421. 


CHAP.  V.  ADOXE  OF  MAEIXI.  223 

immediately  before  us,  belonging  to  the  first  half  of  the 
century,  are  less  numerous  than  in  the  former  age :  the  son- 
neteers especially  have  produced  much  less ;  and  in  the 
collections  of  poetry,  even  in  that  of  Rubbi,  notwithstanding 
his  eulogy,  they  take  up  very  little  room.  Some,  however, 
have  obtained  a  durable  renown,  and  are  better  known  in 
Europe  than  any,  except  the  Tassos,  that  nourished  in  the 
last  fifty  years  of  the  golden  age. 

5.  It   must  be  confessed,  that  the  praise  of  a  masculine 
genius,   either   in    thought   or   language,  cannot  be   Adoneof 
bestowed   on   the  poet  of  the   seventeenth  century   M*"111- 
whom  his  contemporaries  most  admired,  —  Giovanni  Battista 
Marini.     He  is,  on  the  contrary,  more  deficient  than  all  the 
rest   in  such  qualities,  and  is  indebted  to  the  very  opposite 
characteristics  for  the  sinister  influence  which  he  exerted  on 
the  public  taste.     He  was  a  Neapolitan  by  birth,  and  gave 
to  the  world   his   famous  Adone  in  1623.     As  he  was  then 
fifty-four  years  old,  it  may  be  presumed,  from  the  character 
of  the  poem,  that  it  was  in  great  part  written  long  before ; 
and  he  had  already  acquired  a  considerable  reputation  by  his 
other  works.     The  Adone  was  received  with  an  unbounded 
and   ill-judging   approbation :    ill-judging  in  a  critical  sense, 
because    the   faults   of*  this  poem  are  incapable  of  defence ; 
but  not  unnatural,  as  many  parallel  instances  of  the  world's 
enthusiasm  have  shown.     Xo  one  had  before  carried  fhe  cor- 
ruption of  taste  so  far :  extravagant  metaphors,  false  thoughts, 
and   conceits  on  equivocal  words,  are  veiy  frequent  in   the 
Adone ;  and  its  author  stands  accountable,  in  some  measure, 
for  his  imitators,  who,  during  more  than  half  a  century,  looked 
up  to  Marini  with  emulous  folly,  and  frequently  succeeded  in 
greater   deviations  from  pure  taste,  without  his  imagination 
and  elegance. 

6.  The  Adone  is  one  of  the  longest  poems  in  the  world  ; 
containing   more  than  45,000  lines.     He  has  shown   itscharae- 
sorne  ingenuity  in  filling  up  the  canvas  of  so  slight   ter 

a  story  by  additional  incidents  from  his  own  invention,  and 
by  long  episodes  allusive  to  the  times  in  which  he  lived* 
But  the  subject,  expanded  so  interminably,  is  essentially 
destitute  of  any  superior  interest,  and  fit  only  for  an  ener- 
vated people,  ban-en  of  high  thoughts  and  high  actions,  —  the 
Italy,  notwithstanding  some  bright  exceptions,  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  If  we  could  overcome  this  essential  source 


224  CHARACTER  OF  THE  ADONE.  PART  IH. 

of  weariness,  the  Adone  has  much  to  delight  our  fancy  and 
our  ear.  Marini  is,  more  than  any  other  poet,  the  counter- 
part of  Ovid :  his  fertility  of  imagination,  his  ready  accumu- 
lation of  circumstances  and  expressions,  his  easy  flow  of 
language,  his  harmonious  versification,  are  in  no  degree 
inferior ;  his  faults  are  also  the  same  ;  for  in  Ovid  we  have 
all  the  overstrained  figures  and  false  conceits  of  Marini.  But 
the  Italian  poet  was  incapable  of  imitating  the  truth  to 
nature,  and  depth  of  feeling,  which  appear  in  many  parts  of 
his  ancient  prototype ;  nor  has  he  as  vigorous  an  expression. 
Never  does  Marini  rise  to  any  high  pitch :  few  stanzas, 
perhaps,  are  remembered  by  natives  for  their  beauty ;  but 
many  are  graceful  and  pleasing,  all  are  easy  and  musical.1 
"  Perhaps,"  says  Salfi,  "  with  the  exception  of  Ariosto,  no  one 
has  been  more  a  poet  by  nature  than  he  ; " 2  a  praise,  however, 
which  may  justly  seem  hyperbolical  to  those  who  recall  their 
attention  to  the  highest  attributes  of  poetry. 

7.  Marini  belongs  to  that  very  numerous  body  of  poets, 
Andpopu-  who,  delighted  with  the  spontaneity  of  their  ideas, 
never  reject  any  that  arise :  their  parental  love 
forbids  all  preference ;  and  an  impartial  law  of  gavelkind 
shares  their  page  among  all  the  offspring  of  their  brain. 
Such  were  Ovid  and  Lucan,  and  such  have  been  some  of  our 
own  ppets  of  great  genius  and  equal  fame.  Their  fertility 
astonishes  the  reader,  and  he  enjoys  for  a  time  the  abundant 
banquet;  but  satiety  is  too  sure  a  consequence,  and  he  returns 
with  less  pleasure  to  a  second  perusal.  The  censure  of  criti- 
cism falls  invariably,  and  sometimes  too  harshly,  on  this  sort 
of  poetry :  it  is  one  of  those  cases  where  the  critic  and  the 
world  are  most  at  variance ;  but  the  world  is  apt,  in  this 

1  Five  stanzas  of  the  seventh  canto,  be-  E  cantino  a  Cupidine,  ed  a  Bromio, 

ing  a  choral  song  of  satyrs  and  bacchanti,  Con  numeri  poetici  un  encomio." 

are  thrown  into  versi  sdruccioli,  and  have  Cant.  vii.  St.  118. 

been  accounted  by  the  Italians  an  extraor-  Though  this  metrical  skill  mav  not  be 

dinary  effort  of  skill,  from  the  difficulty  of  of  tlle  highest  nlerit  in  poetrv    it  is  no 

sustaining  a  metre,  which  is  not  strong  m  more  to  be  sijguted  than  facility  of  touch 

rhymes,  with  so  much  spirit  and  ease.  jn  a  pamt«;r 

£aih  verse  also  is  divided  into  three  parts,  2  Vol.   xiv.   p.   147.    The  character  of 

themselves   separately   sdrv.cnoh,  though  Marini's  poetry  which  this  critic  has  given 

not  rhyming.    One  stanza  will  make  this  Jg  in  generai  verv  jugt?  and  in  g^, 

clear:  Corninui  (vii.  1^3)  has  also  done  justice, 

"  Ilor  d'  ellera  s'  adornino,  e  di  pampino  and  no  more  than  justice,  to  Marini.    Ti- 

I  giovani,  e  le  vergini  piu  tenere,  raboschi   has  hardly   said  enough  in  his 

E  gemine  nell'  anima  si  stampino  favor ;  and  as  to  Mum  tori,  it  \vn>  his  bu.-i- 

L'  imagine  di  Libero,  e  di  Venere.  ness  to  restore  and  maintain  a  purity  of 

Tutti  ardano.  s' accendano,  ed  avampino,  taste,  which  rendered  him  severe  towards 

Qual  Semele,  ch'  al  folgore  fa  cenere ;  the  excesses  of  such  poets  as  Marini 


CHAP.  V.  TASSONI.  225 

instance,  to  reverse  its  own  judgment,  and  yield  to  the 
tribunal  it  had  rejected.  "  To  Marini,"  says  an  eminent 
Italian  writer,  "  we  owe  the  lawlessness  of  composition :  the 
ebullition  of  his  genius,  incapable  of  restraint,  burst  through 
every  bulwark,  enduring  no  rule  but  that  of  his  own  humor, 
which  was  all  for  sonorous  verse,  bold  and  ingenious  thoughts, 
fantastical  subjects,  a  phraseology  rather  Latin  than  Italian ; 
and,  in  short,  aimed  at  pleasing  by  a  false  appearance  of 
beauty.  It  would  almost  pass  belief  how  much  this  style  was 
admired,  were  it  not  so  near  our  own  time,  that  we  hear,  as  it 
were,  the  echo  of  its  praise ;  nor  did  Dante  or  Petrarch  or 
Tasso,  or  perhaps  any  of  the  ancient  poets,  obtain  in  their 
lives  so  much  applause."1  But  Marini,  who  died  in  1625, 
had  not  time  to  enjoy  much  of  this  glory.  The  length  of 
this  poem,  and  the  diffusoness  which  produces  its  length, 
render  it  nearly  impossible  to  read  through  the  Adone ;  and 
it  wants  that  inequality  which  might  secure  a  preference  to 
detached  portions.  The  story  of  Psyche,  in  the  fourth  canto, 
may  perhaps  be  as  fair  a  specimen  of  Marini  as  could  be 
taken:  it  is  not  easy  to  destroy  the  beauty  of  that- fable, 
nor  was  he  unfitted  to  relate  it  with  grace  and  interest ;  but 
he  has  displayed  all  the  blemishes  of  his  own  style.2 

8.  The  Secchia  Rapita  of  Alessandro  Tassoni,  published  at 
Paris  in  1622,   is    better   known   in    Europe  than   Secchia 
might  have  been  expected  from  its  local  subject,  idio-  Rapita  of 
matic  style,  and  unintelligible  personalities.     It  turns, 
as  the  title  imports,  on  one  of  the  petty  wars,  frequent  among 
the  Italian  cities  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  wherein  the  Bolognese  endeavored   to   recover  the 
bucket  of  a  well,  which  the  citizens  of  Moclena  in  a  prior 
incursion  had  carried  off.     Tassoni,  by  a   poetical   anachro- 
nism, mixed  this  with  an  earlier  contest  of  rather  more  dignity 
between  the  little  republics,  wherein  Enzio,  King  of  Sardinia, 
a  son  of  Frederic  II. ,  had  been  made  prisoner.     He  has  been 
reckoned  by  many  the  inventor,  or  at  least  the  reproducer 

1  Crescimbeni,  li.  470.  sake  of  good  morals  and  good  poetry,  It 

*  The  Adone  has  been  frequently  charged  should  be  taken  out  of  every  one's  hands, 

with  want  of  decency.    It  was  put  to  the  After  such  invectives,  it  may  seem  extra- 

ban  of  the  Roman  Inquisition  ;  and  grave  ordinary,  that,  though  the  poem  of  Mariiii 

writers  have  deemed  it  necessary  to  pro-  must  by  its  nature  be  rather  voluptuous, 

test    against    its    licentiousness.     Andres  it  is  by  far  less  open  to  such  an  objection 

even  goes  so  far  as  to  declare,  that  no  ono  than  the  Orlando  Furioso,  nor  more,  I  be- 

cau  read  the  Adone  whose  heart  as  well  as  lieve,  than  the  Faery  Queen.     No  charge  is 

taste  is  not  corrupt ;  and  that,  both  for  the  apt  to  be  made  so  capriciously  as  this. 

VOL.   III.  15 


226  CHIABRERA.  PAKT  HL 

in  modern  times,  of  the  mock-heroic  style.1  Pulci,  however, 
had  led  the  way ;  and,  when  Tassoni  claims  originality,  it  must 
be  in  a  very  limited  view  of  the  execution  of  his  poem.  lie 
has  certainly  more  of  parody  than  Pulci  could  have  attempt- 
ed: the  great  poems  of  Ariosto  and  Tasso,  especially  the 
latter,  supply  him  with  abundant  opportunities  for  this  ingeni- 
ous and  lively,  but  not  spiteful,  exercise  of  wit ;  and  he  has 
adroitly  seized  the  ridiculous  side  of  his  contemporary  Marini. 
The  combat  of  the  cities,  it  may  be  observed,  is  serious 
enough,  however  trifling  the  cause,  and  has  its  due  proportion 
of  slaughter ;  but  Tassoni,  very  much  in  the  manner  of  the 
Morgante  Maggiore,  throws  an  air  of  ridicule  over  the  whole. 
The  episodes  are  generally  in  a  still  more  comic  style.  A 
graceful  facility  and  a  light  humor,  which  must  have  been 
incomparably  better  understood  by  his  countiymen  and  con- 
temporaries, make  this  a  very  amusing  poem.  It  is  exempt 
from  the  bad  taste  of  the  age ;  and  the  few  portions  where  the 
burlesque  tone  disappears  are  versified  with  much  elegance. 
Perhaps  it  has  not  been  observed,  that  the  Count  de  Culagne, 
one  of  his  most  ludicrous  characters,  bears  a  certain  resem- 
blance to  Hudibras,  both  by  his  awkward  and  dastardly 
appearance  as  a  knight,  and  by  his  ridiculous  addresses  to 
the  lady  whom  he  woos.2  None,  however,  will  question  the 
originality  of  Butler. 

9.  But  the  poet  of  whom  Italy  has,  in  later  times,  been  far 
more  proud  than  of  Marini  or  Tassoni,  was  Chia- 
brera. Of  his  long  life  the  greater  part  fell  within 
the  sixteenth  century ;  and  some  of  his  poems  were  published 
before  its  close ;  but  he  has  generally  been  considered  as 
belonging  to  the  present  period.  Chiabrera  is  the  founder  of 
a  school  in  the  lyric  poetry  of  Italy,  rendered  afterwards  more 
famous  by  Guidi,  which  affected  the  name  of  Pindaric.  It  is 
the  Theban  lyre  which  they  boast  to  strike ;  it  is  from  the 
fountain  of  Dirce  that  they  draw  their  inspiration;  and  these? 
allusions  are  as  frequent  in  their  verse,  as  those  to  Valclusa 

1  Boileau  seems  to  acknowledge  himself  the  romance  of  Bertoldo,  —  all  older  than 
indebted  to  Tassoni  for  the  Lutrin ;  and  Tassoui  1  What  else  are  the  popular  tales 
Pope  may  hare  followed  both  in  the  first  of  children, —John  the  GiganticMe,  and 
sketch  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  though  many  more?  The  poem  of  Tassoni  had  a 
what  he  has  added  is  a  purely  original  con-  very  great  reputation.  Voltaire  did  it  in- 
ception. But,  in  fact,  the  mock-heroic  or  jus'tice,  though  it  was  much  in  his  own 
burlesque  style,  In  a  general  sense,  is  so  line. 

natural,  and  moreover  so  common,  that  it        »  Cantos  X.  and  XI.    It  was  intended 

Is  idl«  to  talk  of  its  inventor.     What  else  as  a  ridicule  on  Marini,  but  represtfits  • 

Is  Itabelais    Don  Quixote,  or,  tn  Italian,  real  persouage.    Sain,  xiii.  147. 


CHAP.  V.  CHIABRERA.  227 

and  the  Sorga  in  the  followers  of  Petrarch.  Chiabrera  bor- 
rowed from  Pindar  that  grandeur  of  sound,  that  pomp  of 
epithets,  that  rich  swell  of  imagery,  that  unvarying  majesty 
of  conception,  which  distinguish  the  odes  of  both  poets.  He 
is  less  frequently  harsh  or  turgid,  though  the  latter  blemish 
has  been  sometimes  observed  in  him,  but  wants  also  the  mas- 
culine condensation  of  his  prototype ;  nor  does  he  deviate  so 
frequently,  or  with  so  much  power  of  imagination,  into  such 
digressions  as  those  which  generally  shade  from  our  eyes,  in  a 
skilful  profusion  of  ornament,  the  victors  of  the  Grecian 
games  whom  Pindar  professes  to  celebrate.  The  poet  of  the 
house  of  Medici  and  of  other  princes  of  Italy,  great  at  least  in 
their  own  time,  was  not  so  much  compelled  to  desert  his  im- 
mediate subject,  as  he  who  was  paid  for  an  ode  by  some 
wrestler  or  boxer,  who  could  only  become  worthy  of  heroic 
song  by  attaching  his  name  to  the  ancient  glories  of  his  native 
city.  The  profuse  employment  of  mythological  allusions, 
frigid  as  it  appears  at  present,  was  so  customary,  that  we  can 
hardly. impute  to  it  much  blame;  and  it  seemed  peculiarly 
appropriate  to  a  style  which  was  studiously  formed  on  the 
Pindaric  model.1  The  odes  of  Chiabrera  are  often  panegyri- 
cal ;  and  his  manner  was  well  fitted  for  that  style,  though 
sometimes  we  have  ceased  to  admire  those  whom  he  extols. 
But  he  is  not  eminent  for  purity  of  taste,  nor,  I  believe,  of 
Tuscan  language :  he  endeavored  to  force  the  idiom,  more 
than  it  would  bear,  by  constructions  and  inversions  borrowed 
from  the  ancient  tongues ;  and  these  odes,  splendid  and  noble 
as  they  are,  bear,  in  the  estimation  of  critics,  some  marks  of 
the  seventeeth  century.2  The  satirical  epistles  of  Chiabrera 
are  praised  by  Salfi  as  written  in  a  moral  Horatian  tone, 
abounding  with  his  own  experience,  and  allusions  to  his  time.8 
But  in  no  other  kind  of  poetry  has  he  been  so  highly  success- 
ful as  in  the  lyric ;  and,  though  the  Grecian  robe  is  never  cast 
away,  he  imitated  Anacreon  with  as  much  skill  as  Pindar. 
';  His  lighter  odes,"  says  Crescimbeni,  "  are  most  beautiful 
and  elegant,  full  of  grace,  vivacity,  spirit,  and  delicacy, 
adorned  with  pleasing  inventions,  and  differing  in  nothing  but 
language  from  those  of  Anacreon.  His  dithyrambics  I  hold 

1  Salfi  justifies  the  continual  introduc-  their  mythology  had  not  been  almost  ex 

Won  of  mythology  by  the  Italian  poets,  on  clusively  Greek.     But  perhaps  all  that  was 

the  ground  that  it  was  a  part  of  their  of  classical  antiquity  might  be  blended 

national  inheritance,  associated  with  the  in  their  sentiments  with  the  memory  of 

monuments  and  recollections  of  their  glory.  Borne. 
This  would  be  more  to  the  purpose,  if        *  Salfi,  zii.  250.          »  Id.,  xili.  2012 


228  FOLLOflrERS  OF  CHIABRERA.  PAKT  III 

incapable  of  being  excelled,  all  the  qualities  required  in  such 
compositions  being  united  with  a  certain  nobleness  of  expres- 
sion which  elevates  all  it  touches  upon." 1 

10.  The  greatest  lyric  poet  of  Greece  was  not  more  the 
model  of  Chiabrera  than  his  Roman  competitor  was  of  Testi. 
"  Had  he  been  more  attentive  to  the  choice  of  his  expression," 
says  Crescimbeni,  "  he  might  have  earned  the  name  of  the 
Tuscan  Horace."     The  faults  of  his  age  are  said  to  be  fre- 
quently discernible  in  Testi ;   but  there   is,  to   an   ordinary 
reader,  an  Horatian  elegance,  a  certain  charm  of  grace  and 
ease,  in  his  canzoni,  which  render  them  pleasing.     One  of 
these,  beginning,  Ruscelletto  orgoglioso,  is  highly  admired  by 
Muratori,  the  best,  perhaps,  of  the  Italian  critics,  and  one  not 
slow  to  censure  any  defects  of  taste.     It  apparently  alludes  to 
some  enemy  in  the  court  of  Modena.2    The  character  of  Testi 
was  ambitious  and  restless,  his  life  spent  in  seeking  and  partly 
in  enjoying  public  offices,  but  terminated  in  prison.     He  had 
taken,  says  a  later  writer,  Horace  for  his  model ;  and  perhaps, 
like  him,  he  wished  to  appear  sometimes  a  stoic,  sometimes  an 
epicurean ;  but  he  knew  not,  like  him,  how  to  profit  by  the 
lessons  either  of  Zeno  or  Epicurus,  so  as  to  lead  a  tranquil 
and  independent  life.3 

11.  The  imitators  of  Chiabrera  were  generally  unsuccess- 
ffi*  follow-  ful :    they  became   hyperbolical   and    exaggerated. 
ere-  The  Translation  of  Pindar  by  Alessandro  Adimari, 
though  not  very   much   resembling  the   original,   has   been 
praised  for  its  own  beauty.     But  these  poets  are  not  to  be 
confounded   with   the   Marinists,   to   whom   they   are   much 
superior.     Ciampoli,  whose  Rime   were  published  in  1628, 
may  perhaps  be  the  best  after  Chiabrera.4     Several  obscure 
epic  poems,  some  of  which  are  rather  to  be  deemed  romances, 
are  commemorated  by  the  last  historian  of  Italian  literature. 
Among  these  is  the  Conquest  of  Granada  by  Graziani,  pub- 
lished in  1650.     Salfi  justly  observes,  that  the  subject  is  truly 
epic ;  but  the  poem  itself  seems  to  be  nothing  but  a  series  of 
episodical  intrigues  without  unity.     The  style,  according   to 
the  same  writer,  is  redundant,  the  similes  too  frequent  and 
monotonous ;  yet  he  prefers  it  to  all  the  heroic  poems  which 
had  intervened  since  that  of  Tasso.5 

»  Storia  della  Volgar  Poeda,  ii.  483.  «  Salfl,    p.    303  ;    TiraboscW,    3d.    864. 

1  This  canzone  is  In  Mathiaa,  Compo-  Baillet,  on  the  authority  of  others,  speak* 

ftlmenti  Lirici,  ti.  190.  less  honorably  of  Ciampoli.    N.  1451. 

*  Salfl,  xii.  281.  *  Id.  vol.  xiii.  p.  94-129 


CHAP.  V.  SPANISH  POETET.  .  229 

SECT.  n.  —  ON  SPANISH  POETBT. 

Romances — The  Argensolas — Villegas  —  Qongora,  and  his  School 

12.  THE  Spanish  poetry  of  the  sixteenth  century  might  be 
arranged  in  three  classes.     In  the  first,   we   might  ^he  gtylea 
place  that  which  was  formed  hi  the  ancient  school,  of  Spanish 
though  not  always  preserving  its  characteristics,  —  poe  ry* 
the  short  trochaic  metres,  employed  in  the  song  or  the  ballad, 
altogether  national,  or  aspiring  to  be   such,   either   in  their 
subjects  or  in  their  style.     In  the  second  would  stand  that  to 
wliich  the  imitation  of  the  Italians  had  given  rise,  —  the  school 
of  Boscan  and  Garcilasso ;    and  with  these  we  might  place 
also  the  epic  poems,  which  do  not  seem  to  be  essentially  dif- 
ferent  from  similar  productions  of  Italy.     A  third  and  not 
inconsiderable  division,  though  less  extensive  than  the  others, 
is  composed  of  the  poetry  of  good  sense,  —  the  didactic,  semi- 
satirical  Horatian  style,  of  which  Mendoza  was  the  founder, 
and  several  specimens  of  which  occur  in  the  Parnaso  Espanol 
of  Sedano. 

13.  The  romances  of  the  Cid,  and  many  others,  are  referred 
by  the  most  competent  judges  to  the  reign  of  Philip   -n^  j^. 
III.1     These  are  by  no  means  among  the  best  of    mancea. 
Spanish  romances ;   and  we  should  naturally  expect  that  so 
artificial  a  style  as  the  imitation  of  ancient  manners  and  sen- 
timents by  poets  in  wholly  a  different  state  of  society,  though 
some  men  of  talent  might  succeed  in  it,  would  soon  degenerate 
into  an  affected  mannerism.     The  Italian  style  continued  to 
be  cultivated  :  under  Philip  III.,  the  decline  of  Spain  in  poet- 
ry, as  in  arms  arti  national  power,  was  not  so  striking  as  after- 

1  Duran,  Romancero  de  Romances  Doc-  ternal  evidence,  without  critical  knowledge 

trinales.   Amatorios,  Festivos,  &c.     1829.  of  the  language,  that  those  relating  to  the 

The  Moorish  romances,  with  a  few  excep-  Cid  are  not  of  the  middle  ages,  though 

tions.  and  those  of  the  Cid.  are  ascribed  some  seem  still  inclined  to  give  them  a  high 

by  this  author  to   the  latter  part  of  the  antiquity.     It  is  not  sufficient  to  say.  that 

sixteenth  and  the  first  half  of  the  seven-  the  language  has  been  modernized  :    the 

teenth  century.     In  the  preface  to  a  for-  whole  structure  of  these  ballads  is  redolent 

mer  publication.  Romances  Moriscos.  this  of  a  low  age ;   and.  if  the  Spanish  critics 

writer  has  said,  "  Casi  todos  los  romances  agree  in  this,  I  know  not  why  foreigners 

que  publicamos  en  este  libro  pertenecen  al  should  strive  against  them.     [It  is  hardly, 

siglo  16mo,  y  algunos  pocos  4  principio  del  perhaps,   necessary   to  warn  the  reader, 

1/mo.    Los  autores  son  desconocidos,  pero  that  the  celebrated  long  poem  on  the  Cid 

§us  rbras  han  llegado,  y  merecido  llegar  4  la  is  not  reckoned  among  these  romances.  — 

posteridad  ''    It  seems  manifest  from  in-  1842.1 


230          THE  BROTHERS  ARGENSOLA.      PART  hi. 

wards.  Several  poets  belong  to  the  age  of  that  prince  ;  and 
even  that  of  Philip  IV.  was  not  destitute  of  men  of  merited 
reputation.1  Among  the  best  were  two  brothers,  Lupercio 
Thebro-  an^  Bartholomew  Argensola.  These  were  chiefly 
there  Ar-  distinguished  in  what  I  have  called  the  third  or  Ho- 
KeDS°  '  ratian  manner  of  Spanish  poetry,  though  they  by  no 
means  confined  themselves  to  any  peculiar  style.  "  Lupercio," 
says  Bouterwek,  "  formed  his  style  after  Horace  with  no  less 
assiduity  than  Luis  de  Leon  ;  but  he  did  not  possess  the  soft 
enthusiasm  of  that  pious  poet,  who,  in  the  religious  spirit  of 
his  poetry,  is  so  totally  unlike  Horace.  An  understanding  at 
once  solid  and  ingenious,  subject  to  no  extravagant  illusion, 
yet  full  of  true  poetic  feeling,  and  an  imagination  more  plastic 
than  creative,  impart  a  more  perfect  Horatian  coloring  to  the 
odes,  as  well  as  to  the  canciones  and  sonnets,  of  Lupercio. 
He  closely  imitated  Horace  in  his  didactic  satires,  a  style  of 
composition  in  which  no  Spanish  poet  had  preceded  him. 
But  he  never  succeeded  in  attaining  the  bold  combination  of 
ideas  which  characterizes  the  ode-style  of  Horace  ;  and  his 
conceptions  have  therefore  seldom  any  thing  like  the  Horatian 
energy.  On  the  other  hand,  all  his  poems  express  no  less 
precision  of  language  than  the  models  after  which  he  formed 
his  style.  His  odes,  in  particular,  are  characterized  by  a 
picturesque  tone  of  expression  which  he  seems  to  have  im- 
bibed from  Virgil  rather  than  from  Horace.  The  extravagant 
metaphors  by  which  some  of  Herrera's  odes  are  deformed 
were  uniformly  avoided  by  Lupercio."2  The  genius  of  Bar- 
tholomew Argensola  was  very  like  that  of  his  brother,  nor  are 
their  writings  easily  distinguishable  ;  but  Bouterwek  assigns, 
on  the  whole,  a  higher  place  to  Bartholomew.  Dieze  inclines 
to  the  same  judgment,  and  thinks  the  eulogy  of  Nicolas  Anto- 
nio on  these  brothers,  extravagant  as  it  seems,  not  beyond 
their  merits. 

14.  But  another  poet,  Manuel  Estevan  de  Villegas,  whose 

vniegas.      poems,  written  in  very  early  youth,  entitled  Ama- 

torias   or    Eroticas,  were   published    in    1620,    has 

attained  a  still  higher  reputation,  especially  in  other  parts 

1  Antonio  bestows  unbounded  praise  on  fable  of  Roncesvalles.     Diezc,  while  he  de- 

a  poein  of  the  epic  class,  the  Bernardo  of  nies  this  absolute  pre-eminence  of  Balbue- 

Balbuena,  published  at  Madrid  in  1624,  na,  gives  him  a  respectable  place  among 

though  he  complains  that  in  his  own  age  the  many  epic  writers  of  Spain.    But  I  do 

It  la                                                              '  " 


Spanish  poets  .  . 

subject  of  his  poeui  is  the  v«r>  common        *  Hist,  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  396. 


CHAP.  V.  VILLEGAS  —  QUEVEDO.  231 

of  Europe.  Dieze  calls  him  "  one  of  the  best  lyric  poets  of 
Spain,  excellent  in  the  various  styles  he  has  employed,  but 
above  all  in  his  odes  and  songs.  His  original  poems  are  full 
of  genius :  his  translations  of  Horace  and  Anacreon  might 
often  pass  for  original.  Few  surpass  him  in  harmony  of  verse : 
he  is  the  Spanish  Anacreon,  the  poet  of  the  Graces." :  Bou- 
terwek,  a  more  discriminating  judge  than  Dieze,  who  is  per- 
haps rather  valuable  for  research  than  for  taste,  has  observed, 
that  "  the  graceful  luxuriance  of  the  poetry  of  Villegas  has 
no  parallel  in  modern  literature  ;  and,  generally  speaking,  no 
modern  writer  has  so  well  succeeded  in  blending  the  spirit 
of  ancient  poetry  with  the  modern.  But  constantly  to  ob- 
serve that  correctness  of  ideas,  which  distinguished  the  clas- 
sical compositions  of  antiquity,  was  by  Villegas,  as  by  most 
Spanish  poets,  considered  too  rigid  a  requisition,  and  an 
unnecessary  restraint  on  genius.  He  accordingly  sometimes 
degenerates  into  conceits  and  images,  the  monstrous  absurdity 
of  which  is  characteristic  of  the  author's  nation  and  age.  For 
instance,  in  one  of  his  odes,  in  which  he  entreats  Lyda  to 
suffer  her  tresses  to  flow,  he  says,  that,  '  agitated  by  Zephyr, 
her  locks  would  occasion  a  thousand  deaths,  and  subdue  a 
thousand  lives ; '  and  then  he  adds,  in  a  strain  of  extrava- 
gance surpassing  that  of  the  Marinists,  '  that  the  sun  himself 
would  cease  to  give  light,  if  he  did  not  snatch  beams  from  her 
radiant  countenance  to  illumine  the  east.'  But  faults  of  this 
glaring  kind  are  by  no  means  frequent  in  the  poetry  of  Ville- 
gas ;  and  the  fascinating  grace  with  which  he  emulates  his 
models  operates  with  so  powerful  a  charm,  that  the  occasional 
occurrence  of  some  little  affectations,  from  which  he  could 
scarcely  be  expected  entirely  to  abstain,  is  easily  overlooked 
by  the  reader." 2 

15.  Quevedo,  who,  having  borne  the  surname  of  Villegas, 
has  sometimes  been  confounded  with  the  poet  we  oueyedo 
have  just  named,  is  better  known  in  Europe  for  his 
prose   than  his  verse ;    but  he  is  the    author   of  numerous 
poems,  both  serious  and  comic  or  satirical.     The  latter  are  by 
much  the  more  esteemed  of  the  two.     He  wrote  burlesque 
poetry  with  success,  but  it  is  frequently  unintelligible  except 
to  natives.     In  satire  he  adopted  the  Juvenalian  style.3     A 
few  more  might  perhaps  be  added,  especially  Espinel,  a  poet 

1  Geechichte  der  Spauischen  Dichtkunst,  p.  210. 
»  Boutsrwek,  1.  479.  s  Id.,  p.  468. 


232  DEFECTS  OF  TASTE  IN  SPANISH  VERSE.     PART  in 

of  the  classic  school;  Borja  de  Esquillace,  once  viceroy  of 
Peru,  who  is  called  by  Bouterwek  the  last  representative 
of  that  style  in  Spain,  but  more  worthy  of  praise  for  with- 
standing the  bad  taste  of  his  contemporaries  than  for  any 
vigor  of  genius ;  and  Christopher  de  la  Mena.1  No  Portu- 
guese poetry  about  this  time  seems  to  be  worthy  of  notice  in 
European  literature,  though  Manuel  Faria  y  Sousa  and  a  few 
more  might  attain  a  local  reputation  by  sonnets  and  other 
amatory  verse. 

1 6.  The  original  blemish  of  Spanish  writing,  both  in  prose 

and  verse,  had  been  an  excess  of  effort  to  say  every 
taatehl0'  thing  in  an  unusual  manner,  a  deviation  from  the 
Spanish  beaten  paths  of  sentiment  and  language  in  a  wider 

curve  than  good  taste  permits.  Taste  is  the  pre- 
siding faculty  which  regulates,  in  all  works  within  her  juris- 
diction, the  struggling  powers  of  imagination,  emotion,  and 
reason.  Each  has  its  claim  to  mingle  in  the  composition ; 
each  may  sometimes  be  allowed  in  a  great  measure  to 
predominate  ;  and  a  phlegmatic  application  of  what  men  call 
common  sense  in  aesthetic  criticism  is  almost  as  repugnant  to 
its  principles  as  a  dereliction  of  all  reason  for  the  sake  of 
fantastic  absurdity.  Taste  also  must  determine,  by  an  intui- 
tive sense  of  right  somewhat  analogous  to  that  which  regu- 
lates the  manners  of  polished  life,  to  what  extent  the  most 
simple,  the  most  obvious,  the  most  natural,  and  therefore,  in 
a  popular  meaning,  the  most  true,  is  to  be  modified  by  a 
studious  introduction  of  the  new,  the  striking,  and  the  beau- 
tiful ;  so  that  neither  what  is  insipid  and  trivial,  nor  yet 
what  is  forced  and  affected,  may  displease  us.  In  Spain,  as 
we  have  observed,  the  latter  was  always  the  prevailing 
fault.  The  public  taste  had  been  formed  on  bad  models :  on 
the  Oriental  poetry,  metaphorical  beyond  all  perceptible  ana- 
logy ;  and  on  that  of  the  Provencals,  false  in  sentiment,  false 
in  conception,  false  in  image  and  figup.  The  national  cha- 
racter, proud,  swelling,  and  ceremonious,  conspired  to  give 
an  inflated  tone:  it  was  also  grave  and  sententious  rather 
than  lively  or  delicate,  and  therefore  fond  of  a  strained 
and  ambitious  style.  These  vices  of  writing  are  carried  to 
excess  in  romances  of  chivalry,  which  became  ridiculous  in 
the  eyes  of  sensible  men,  but  were  certainly  very  popular ; 
they  affect  also,  though  in  a  different  manner,  much  of  the 

1  Bouterwek,  p.  488. 


CHAP.  V.  LUIS  DE  GOXGORA.  233 

Spanish  prose  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  they  belong  to 
a  great  deal  of  the  poetry  of  that  age ;  though  it  must  be 
owned  that  much  appears  wholly  exempt  from  them,  and 
written  in  a  very  pure  and  classical  spirit.  Cervantes  strove 
by  example  and  by  precept  to  maintain  good  taste;  and 
some  of  his  contemporaries  took  the  same  line.1  But  they 
had  to  fight  against  the  predominant  turn  of  their  nation,  which 
soon  gave  the  victory  to  one  of  the  worst  manners  of  writing 
that  ever  disgraced  public  favor. 

17.  Nothing   can    be   more    opposite    to  what    is  strictly 
called  a  classical  style,  or  one  formed  upon  the  best 
models  of  Greece  and  Rome,  than  pedantry.     This   ndte- 
was.  nevertheless,  the  weed  that  overspread  the  face   ^j^^ 
of  literature  in  those  ages  when  Greece  and  Rome 

were  the  chief  objects  of  veneration.  Without  an  intimate 
discernment  of  their  beauty,  it  was  easy  to  copy  allusions  that 
were  no  longer  intelligible,  to  counterfeit  trains  of  thought 
that  belonged  to  past  times,  to  force  reluctant  idioms  into 
modern  form,  as  some  are  said  to  dress  after  a  lady  for 
whom  nature  has  done  more  than  for  themselves.  From  the 
revival  of  letters  downwards,  this  had  been  more  or  less  obser- 
vable in  the  learned  men  of  Europe,  and.  after  that  class  grew 
more  extensive,  in  the  current  literature  of  modern  languages. 
Pedantry,  which  consisted  in  unnecessary  and  perhaps  unin- 
telligible references  to  ancient  learning,  was  afterwards  com- 
bined with  other  artifices  to  obtain  the  same  end,  —  far-fetched 
metaphors  and  extravagant  conceits.  The  French  versifiers 
of  the  latter  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  eminent  in 
both,  as  the  works  of  Ronsard  and  Du  Bart  as  attest.  We 
might,  indeed,  take  the  Creation  of  Du  Bartas  more  properly 
than  the  Euphues  of  our  English  Lilly,  which,  though  very 
affected  and  unpleasing,  does  hardly  such  violence  to  common 
speech  and  common  sense,  for  the  type  of  the  style  which,  in 
the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  became  popular 
in  several  countries,  but  especially  in  Spain,  through  the  mis- 
placed labors  of  Gongora. 

18.  Luis  de  Gongora,  a  man  of  very  considerable  talents, 
and  capable  of  writing  well,  as  he  has  shown,  in  dif-   Gongonu 
ferent  styles  of  poetry,  was  unfortunately  led  by  an 
ambitious  desire  of  popularity  to  introduce  one  which  should 

i  Cervantes,  in  his  Viage  del  P-u-naso,    style :  but  this.  Dieze  says,  is  all  ironical, 
praises  Gongora,  and  even    fanita-es  his    Gesch.  der  Dichtkunst,  p.  250. 


234  SCHOOLS  FORMED  BY  GONGORA.  PART  in. 

render  his  name  immortal,  as  it  has  done  in  a  mode  which 
he  did  not  design.  This  was  his  estilo  culto,  as  it  was 
usually  called,  or  highly  polished  phraseology,  wherein  every 
word  seems  to  have  been  out  of  its  natural  place.  "  In 
fulfilment  of  this  object,"  says  Bouterwek,  "he  formed  for 
himself,  with  the  most  laborious  assiduity,  a  style  as  uncom- 
mon as  affected,  and  opposed  to  all  the  ordinary  rules  of 
the  Spanish  language,  either  in  prose  or  verse.  He  parti- 
cularly endeavored  to  introduce  into  his  native  tongue  the 
intricate  constructions  of  the  Greek  and  Latin,  though  such 
an  arrangement  of  words  had  never  been  attempted  in  Spanish 
composition.  He  consequently  found  it  necessary  to  invent 
a  particular  system  of  punctuation,  in  order  to  render  the 
sense  of  his  verses  intelligible.  Not  satisfied  with  this  patch- 
work kind  of  phraseology,  he  affected  to  attach  an  extra- 
ordinary depth  of  meaning  to  each  word,  and  to  diffuse  an 
air  of  superior  dignity  over  his  whole  style.  In  Gongora's 
poetry,  the  most  common  words  received  a  totally  new  sig- 
nification ;  and,  in  order  to  impart  perfection  to  his  estilo  culto, 
he  summoned  all  his  mythological  learning  to  his  aid."1 
"  Gongora,"  says  an  English  writer,  "  was  the  founder  of  a 
sect  in  literature.  The  style  called  in  Castilian  cultismo 
owes  its  origin  to  him.  This  affectation  consists  in  using 
language  so  pedantic,  metaphors  so  strained,  and  construc- 
tions so  involved,  that  few  readers  have  the  knowledge  re- 
quisite to  understand  the  words ;  and  still  fewer,  ingenuity 
to  discover  the  allusion,  or  patience  to  unravel  the  sentences. 
These  authors  do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  invention  of 
letters  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  but  of  concealing  their 
ideas."2 

19.  The  Gongorists  formed  a  strong  party  in  literature, 
The  schools  an(l  carried  with  them  the  public  voice.  If  we 
formed  by  were  to  believe  some  writers  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  he  was  the  greatest  poet  of  Spain.8  The 
age  of  Cervantes  was  over,  nor  was  there  vitality  enough 
in  the  criticism  of  the  reign  of  Philip  IV.  to  resist  the  con- 
tagion. Two  sects  soon  appeared  among  these  cultoristos: 

1  Bouterwek,  p.  434.  tence.    The  Portuguese  hare  laid  claim  to 

*  Lord  Holland's  Lope  de  Vega,  p.  64.  the  estilo  culto  as  their  property ;  and  one 

*  Dieze,  p.  250.    Nicolas  Antonio,  to  the  of  their  writers  who  practises  it  —  Manuel 
disgrace  of  his  judgment,  maintains  this  de  Fariay  Sousa  —  gives  Don  Sebastian  the 
with  the  most  extravagant  eulogy  on  Gon-  credit  of  having  been  the  first  who  wrote  it 
gora ;   and  Baillet  copies  him :  but  the  in  prose. 

next  age  unhesitatingly  reversed  the  sen- 


CHAP.  V.  MALHEEBE.  235 

one  who  retained  that  name,  and,  like  their  master,  affected 
a  certain  precision  of  style ;  another,  called  conceptistos, 
which  went  still  greater  lengths  in  extravagance,  desirous 
only,  it  might  seem,  of  expressing  absurd  ideas  in  unnatu- 
ral language.1  The  prevalence  of  such  a  disease,  for  no  other 
analogy  can  so  fitly  be  used,  would  seem  to  have  been  a  bad 
presage  for  Spain  ;  but,  in  fact,  like  other  diseases,  it  did  but 
make  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  rage  worse  in  some  countries 
than  in  others.  It  had  spent  itself  in  France,  when  it  was 
at  its  height  in  Italy  and  England.  I  do  not  perceive  the 
close  connection  of  the  estilo  culto  of  Gongora  with  that  of 
Mariiii,  whom  both  Bouterwek  and  Lord  Holland  suppose 
to  have  formed  his  own  taste  on  the  Spanish  school.  It 
seems  rather  too  severe  an  imputation  on  that  most  ingenious 
and  fertile  poet,  who,  as  has  already  been  observed,  has  no 
fitter  parallel  than  Ovid.  The  strained  metaphors  of  the 
Adone  are  easily  collected  by  critics,  and  seem  extravagant 
in  juxtaposition ;  but  they  recur  only  at  intervals  :  while  those 
of  Gongora  are  studiously  forced  into  every  line,  and  are, 
besides,  incomparably  more  refined  and  obscure.  His  style, 
indeed,  seems  to  be  like  that  of  Lycophron.  without  the 
excuse  of  that  prophetical  mystery  which  breathes  a  certain 
awfulness  over  the  symbolic  language  of  the  Cassandra.  Nor 
am  I  convinced  that  our  own  metaphysical  poetry  in  the 
reigns  of  James  and  Charles  had  much  to  do  with  either 
Marini  or  Gongora,  except  as  it  bore  marks  of  the  same  vice, 
—  a  restless  ambition  to  excite  wonder  by  overstepping  the 
boundaries  of  nature. 


SECTION  ILL 

Malherbe— Begnier— Other  French  Poets. 

20.  MALHERBE,  a  very  few  of  whose  poems  belong  to  the 
last  century,  but  the  greater  part  to  the  first  twenty   . 

•  .,•'  v  i          j  i        Malherbe 

years  ot  the  present,  gave  a  polish  and  a  grace  to  the 
lyric  poetry  of  France,  which  has  rendered  his  name  cele- 
brated in  her  criticism.     The  public  taste  of  that  country  is 

1  Bouterwek,  p.  438. 


236  CRITICISMS  ON  MALHERBE'S  POETRY.       PAKT  III. 

(or  I  should  rather  say,  used  to  be)  more  intolerant  of  defects 
in  poetry,  than  rigorous  in  its  demands  of  excellence.  Mal- 
herbe, therefore,  who  substituted  a  regular  and  accurate  ver- 
sification, a  style  pure  and  generally  free  from  pedantic  or 
colloquial  phrases,  and  a  sustained  tone  of  what  were  reckoned 
elevated  thoughts,  for  the  more  unequal  strains  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  acquired  a  reputation  which  may  lead  some  of 
his  readers  to  disappointment.  And  this  is  likely  to  be  in- 
creased by  a  very  few  lines  of  great  beauty  which  are  known 
by  heart.  These  stand  too  much  alone  in  his  poems.  In 
general,  we  find  in  them  neither  imagery  nor  sentiment  that 
yield  us  delight.  He  is  less  mythological,  less  affected,  less 
given  to  frigid  hyperboles,  than  his  predecessors,  but  far  too 
much  so  for  any  one  accustomed  to  real  poetry.  In  the  panegy- 
rical odes,  Malherbe  displays  some  felicity  and  skill :  the  poet 
of  kings  and  courtiers,  he,  wisely  perhaps,  wrote,  even  when 
he  could  have  written  better,  what  kings  and  courtiers  would 
understand  and  reward.  Polished  and  elegant,  his  lines  sel- 
dom pass  the  conventional  tone  of  poetry ;  and,  while  he  is 
never  original,  he  is  rarely  impressive.  Malherbe  may  stand 
in  relation  to  Horace  as  Chiabrera  does  to  Pindar :  the  ana- 
logy is  not  very  close  ;  but  he  is  far  from  deficient  in  that  calm 
philosophy  which  forms  the  charm  of  the  Roman  poet,  and  we 
are  willing  to  believe  that  he  sacrificed  his  time  reluctantly 
to  the  praises  of  the  great.  It  may  be  suspected  that  he 
wrote  verses  for  others ;  a  practice  not  unusual,  I  believe, 
among  these  courtly  rhymers :  at  least  his  Alcandre  seems  to 
be  Henry  IV.,  Chrysanthe  or  Oranthe  the  Princess  of  Conde. 
He  seems  himself  in  some  passages  to  have  affected  gallantry 
towards  Mary  of  Medicis,  which  at  that  time  was  not  reck- 
oned an  impertinence. 

21.  Bouterwek  has  criticised  Malherbe  with  some  justice, 
criticisms  but  w^tn  greater  severity.1  He  deems  him  no  poet ; 
"Str"8  wl"cn>  m  a  certain  sense,  is  surely  true.  But  we 
narrow  our  definition  of  poetry  too  much,  when  we 
exclude  from  it  the  versification  of  good  sense  and  select 
diction.  This  may  probably  be  ascribed  to  Malherbe  ;  though 
Bouhours,  an  acute  and  somewhat  rigid  critic,  has  pointed  out 
some  passages  which  he  deems  nonsensical.  Another  writer 
of  the  same  age,  Rapin,  whose  own  taste  was  not  very  glow- 
ing, observes  that  there  is  much  prose  in  Malherbe ;  and  that, 

»  Vol.  T.  p.  288 


CHAP.  V.  REGNIER  — RACAN --MAYNARD.  237 

well  as  lie  merits  to  be  called  correct,  he  is  a  little  too  desi- 
rous of  appearing  so,  and  often  becomes  frigid.1  Boileau  has 
extolled  him,  perhaps,  somewhat  too  highly,  and  La  Harpe  is 
inclined  to  the  same  side ;  but,  in  the  modern  state  of  French 
criticism,  the  danger  is  that  the  Malherbes  will  be  too  much 
depreciated. 

22.  The  satires  of  Regnier  have  been  highly  praised  by 
Boileau ;  a  competent  judge,  no  doubt,  in  such  mat-  satires  of 
ters.  Some  have  preferred  Regnier  even  to  himself,  Reg^er- 
and  found  in  this  old  Juvenal  of  France  a  certain  stamp 
of  satirical  genius  which  the  more  polished  critic  wanted.2 
These  satires  are  unlike  all  other  French  poetry  of  the  age  of 
Henry  IV. :  the  tone  is  vehement,  somewhat  rugged  and 
coarse,  and  reminds  us  a  little  of  his  contemporaries  Hall  and 
Donne,  whom,  however,  he  will  generally  and  justly  be 
thought  much  to  excel.  Some  of  his  satires  are  borrowed 
from  Ovid  or  from  the  Italians.3  They  have  been  called 
gross  and  licentious ;  but  this  only  applies  to  one,  the  rest  are 
unexceptionable.  Regnier,  who  had  probably  some  quarrel 
with  Malherbe,  speaks  with  contempt  of  his  elaborate  polish. 
But  the  taste  of  France,  and  especially  of  that  highly  culti- 
vated nobility  who  formed  the  court  of  Louis  XIII.  and  his 
son,  no  longer  endured  the  rude,  though  sometimes  animated, 
versification  of  the  older  poets.  Next  to  Malherbe  in  reputa- 
tion stood  Racan  and  Maynard,  both  more  or  less  of  his 
school.  Of  these  it  was  said  by  their  master,  that  Racan; 
Racan  wanted  the  diligence  of  Maynard,  as  Maynard  Maynard- 
did  the  spirit  of  Racan  ;  and  that  a  good  poet  might  be  made 
out  of  the  two.4  A  foreigner  will  in  general  prefer  the 
former,  who  seems  to  have  possessed  more  imagination  and 
sensibility,  and  a  keener  relish  for  rural  beauty.  Maynard's 
verses,  according  to  Pelisson,  have  an  ease  and  elegance  that 
few  can  imitate,  which  proceeds  from  his  natural  and  simple 
construction.5  He  had  more  success  in  epigram  than  in  his 
sonnets,  which  Boileau  has  treated  with  little  respect.  Nor 

1  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  147. —  d'etre  trop  sage,  il  est  souvent  froid."  — 

"  Malherbe  a  este  le  premier  qui  nous  a  re-  p.  209. 

mis  dans  lebonchemin,  joigniint  la  purete  2  Bouterwek,  p.  246 ;  La  Harpe;   Biogr. 

au  grand  style  ;  mais  comme  il  commenca  Univ. 

cette  maniere,  il  ne  put  la  porter  jusques  3  Niceron,  xi.  397. 

dans  sa  perfection  ,  il  y  a  bien  de  la  prose  4  Pelisson,  Hist,  de  1'Academie,  1.  260  ; 

dans  ses  vers."     In  another  place  he  says,  Baillet,   .lugemens   des    Savans    (Poetes), 

"Malherbe  est  exact  et  correct;   mais  il  n.  1510;   La  Harpe  Cours  de  Litterature ; 

ne  hazarde  rien,  et  par  1'envie  qu'il  a  Bouterwek,  v.  260.             *  Idem. 


238  VOITURE  — SAERAZIN.  PART  IIL 

does  he  speak  better  of  Malleville,  who  chose  no  other  species 
of  verse,  but  seldom  produced  a  finished  piece,  though  not 
deficient  in  spirit  and  delicacy.  Viaud,  more  frequently 
known  by  the  name  of  Theophile,  a  writer  of  no  great  eleva- 
tion of  style,  is  not  destitute  of  imagination.  Such  at  least  is 
the  opinion  of  Rapin  and  Bouterwek.1 

23.  The  poems  of  Gombauld  were,  in  general,  published 
before  the  middle  of  the  century ;  his  epigrams,  which  are 
most  esteemed,  in  1657.  These  are  often  lively  and  neat. 
But  a  style  of  playfulness  and  gayety  had  been  introduced  by 
Voiture.  French  poetry  under  Ronsard  and  his 
school,  and  even  that  of  Malherbe,  had  lost  the 
lively  tone  of  Marot,  and  became  serious  almost  to  severity. 
Voiture,  with  an  apparent  ease  and  grace,  though  without  the 
natural  air  of  the  old  writers,  made  it  once  more  amusing. 
In  reality,  the  style  of  Voiture  is  artificial  and  elaborate  ;  but, 
like  his  imitator  Prior  among  us,  he  has  the  skill  to  disguise 
this  from  the  reader.  He  must  be  admitted  to  have  had,  in 
verse  as  well  as  prose,  a  considerable  influence  over  the  taste 
of  France.  He  wrote  to  please  women,  and  women  are 
grateful  when  they  are  pleased.  Sarrazin,  says  his  biogra- 
pher,  though  less  celebrated  than  Voiture,  deserves 

1  11  •  •      1  1       • 

perhaps  to  be  rated  above  him ;  with  equal  ingenui- 
ty, he  is  far  more  natural.2  The  German  historian  of  French 
literature  has  spoken  less  respectfully  of  Sarrazin,  whose 
verses  are  the  most  insipid  rhymed  prose,  such  as  he,  not 
unhappily,  calls  toilet-poetry.3  This  is  a  style  which  finds  little 
mercy  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine  ;  but  the  French  are 
better  judges  of  the  merit  of  Sarrazin. 

»  Bonterwek,  252.  Rapln  says,  "  Theo-  *  Bouterwek,  T.  256.  Specimens  of  all 

phile  a  1'imagination  grande  et  le  sens  these  poets  will  be  found  in  the  collection 

petit.  II  a  deB  hordiesses  heureuses  4  force  of  Auguis,  vol.  vi. ;  and  I  must  own,  that, 

de  PC  perniettre  tout."  —  Reflexions  sur  la  with  the  exceptions  of  Malherbe,  Regnier, 

Poetique,  p.  209.  and  one  or  two  more,  my  own  acquaint* 

s  Biogr.  Univ ;  Baillet,  n.  1532.  once  with  them  extends  little  farther. 


CHAP.  V.      LOW  STATE  OF  GEBMAN  LITEEATUEE.  239 

SECTION  IV. 

Bfee  of  Poetry  !n  Germany— Opita  and  his  loDoverB— Dutch  Poets. 

24.  THE  German  language  had  never  been  more  despised 
by  the  learned  and  the  noble  than  at  the  beginning  ^^  gtate 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  which  seems  to  be  the  of  German 
lowest  point  in  its  native  literature.  The  capacity 
was  not  wanting ;  many  wrote  Latin  verse  with  success ;  the 
collection  made  by  Gruter  is  abundant  in  these  cultivators  of 
a  foreign  tongue,  several  of  whom  belong  to  the  close  of  the 
preceding  age.  But,  among  these,  it  is  said  that  whoever 
essayed  to  write  their  own  language  did  but  fail ;  and  the 
instances  adduced  are  very  few.  The  upper  ranks  began 
about  this  time  to  speak  French  in  common  society ;  the 
burghers,  as  usual,  strove  to  imitate  them ;  and,  what  was  far 
worse,  it  became  the  mode  to  intermingle  French  words  with 
German,  not  singly  and  sparingly,  as  has  happened  in  other 
times  and  countries,  but  in  a  jargon  affectedly  piebald  and 
macaronic.  Some  hope  might  have  been  founded  on  the  lite- 
rary academies,  which,  in  emulation  of  Italy,  sprung  up  in  this 
period.  The  oldest  is  The  Fruitful  Society  ( Die  Literary 
Fruchtbringende  GeseUschaft),  known  also  as  the  So"6**68- 
Order  of  Palms,  established  at  Weimar  in  1617.1  Five 
princes  enrolled  their  names  at  the  beginning.  It  held  forth 
the  laudable  purpose  of  purifying  and  correcting  the  mother 
tongue  and  of  promoting  its  literature,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Italian  academies.  But  it  is  not  unusual  for  literary  associa- 
tions to  promise  much,  and  fail  of  performance :  one  man  is 
more  easily  found  to  lay  down  a  good  plan,  than  many  to  co- 
operate in  its  execution.  Probably  this  was  merely  the 
scheme  of  some  more  gifted  individual,  perhaps  Werder,  who 
translated  Ariosto  and  Tasso;2  for  little  good  was  effected  by 
the  institution.  Nor  did  several  others,  which  at  different 
times  in  the  seventeenth  century  arose  over  Germany,  deserve 
more  praise.  They  copied  the  academies  of  Italy  in  their 
quaint  names  and  titles,  in  their  by-laws,  their  petty  ceremo- 
nials and  symbolic  distinctions,  to  which,  as  we  always  find  in 

*  Bouterwek,  z.  86  *  Id.,  x.  29. 


*40  OPITZ.  PART  HI. 

these  self-elected  societies,  they  attached  vast  importance,  and 
thought  themselves  superior  to  the  world  by  doing  nothing  for 
it.  "They  are  gone,"  exclaims  Bouterwek,  "and  have  left  no 
clear  vestige  of  their  existence."  Such  had  been  the  Meister- 
Bingers  before  them ;  and  little  else,  in  effect,  were  the  acade- 
mies, in  a  more  genial  soil,  of  thejr  own  age.  Notwithstand- 
ing this,  though  I  am  compelled  to  follow  the  historian  of 
German  literature,  it  must  strike  us  that  these  societies  seem 
to  manifest  a  public  esteem  for  something  intellectual,  which 
they  knew  not  precisely  how  to  attain ;  and  it  is  to  be  observed, 
that  several  of  the  best  poets  in  the  seventeenth  century  be- 
longed to  them. 

25.  A  very  small  number  of  poets,  such  as  Meckerlin  and 
o  itz  Spec,  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
though  with  many  faults  in  point  of  taste,  have  been 
commemorated  by  the  modern  historians  of  literature.  But 
they  were  wholly  eclipsed  by  one  whom  Germany  regards  as 
the  founder  of  her  poetic  literature,  Martin  Opitz,  a  native 
of  Silesia,  honored  with  a  laurel  crown  by  the  emperor,  in 
1628,  and  raised  to  offices  of  distinction  and  trust  in  several 
courts.  The  national  admiration  of  Opitz  seems  to  have  been 
almost  enthusiastic ;  yet  Opitz  was  far  from  being  the  poet  of 
enthusiasm.  Had  he  been  such,  his  age  might  not  have 
understood  him.  His  taste  was  French  and  Dutch ;  two 
countries  of  which  the  poetry  was  pure  and  correct,  but  not 
imaginative.  No  great  elevation,  no  energy  of  genius,  will 
be  found  in  this  German  Heinsius  or  Malherbe.  Opitz  dis- 
played, however,  another  kind  of  excellence.  He  wrote  the 
language  with  a  purity  of  idiom,  in  which  Luther  alone,  whom 
he  chose  as  his  model,  was  superior :  he  gave  more  strength 
to  the  versification,  and  paid  a  regard  to  the  collocation 
of  syllables  according  to  their  quantity,  or  length  of  time 
required  for  articulation,  which  the  earlier  poets  had  negl^ct- 
ed.  He  is,  therefore,  reckoned  the  inventor  of  a  rich  and 
harmonious  rhythm;  and  he  also  rendered  the  Alexandrine 
verse  much  more  common  than  before.1  His  sense  is  good ; 
he  writes  as  one  conversant  with  the  ancients,  and  with  man- 
kind :  if  he  is  too  didactic  and  learned  for  a  poet  in  the  higher 
import  of  the  word;  if  his  taste  appears  fettered  by  the  models 

»  Bouterwek  (p.  94)  thinks  this  no  ad-    seventeenth  aud  first  part  of  the  eighteenth 
vantage :  a  rhymed  prose  in  Alexandrines    century, 
overspread  the  German  literature  of  the 


CHAP.  V.  HIS  FOLLOWERS.  241 

he  took  for  imitation ;  if  he  even  retarded,  of  which  we  can 
hardly  be  sure,  the  development  of  a  more  genuine  nation- 
ality in  German  literature,  —  he  must  still  be  allowed,  in  a 
favorable  sense,  to  have  made  an  epoch  in  its  history.1 

26.  Opitz  is  reckoned  the  founder  of  what  was  called  the 
first  Silesian  school,  rather  so  denominated  from  him  His  foiiow- 
than  as  determining  the  birthplace  of  its  poets.  ers- 
They  were  chiefly  lyric,  but  more  in  the  line  of  songs  and 
short  effusions  in  trochaic  metre  than  of  the  regular  ode,  and 
sometimes  display  much  spirit  and  feeling.  The  German 
song  always  seems  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  the  English :  the 
identity  of  metre  and  rhythm  conspires  with  what  is  more 
essential,  a  certain  analogy  of  sentiment.  Many,  however,  of 
Opitz's  followers,  like  himself,  took  Holland  for  their  Par- 
nassus, and  translated  their  songs  from  Dutch.  Fleming  was 
distinguished  by  a  genuine  feeling  for  lyric  poetry :  he  made 
Opitz  his  model,  but,  had  he  not  died  young,  would  probably 
have  gone  beyond  him ;  being  endowed  by  nature  with  a  more 
poetical  genius.  Gryph  or  Gryphius,  who  belonged  to  the 
Fruitful  Society,  and  bore  in  that  the  surname  of  the  Immor- 
tal, with  faults  that  strike  the  reader  in  every  page,  is  also 
superior  in  fancy  and  warmth  to  Opitz.  But  Gryph  is  better 
known  in  German  literature  by  his  tragedies.  The  hymns 
of  the  Lutheran  Church  are  by  no  means  the  lowest  form  of 
German  poetry.  They  have  bee»  the  work  of  every  age 
since  the  Reformation ;  but  Dach  and  Gerhard,  who,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  excelled  in  these  devotional  songs,  lived 
about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  shade  of 
Luther  seemed  to  protect  the  church  from  the  profanation 
of  bad  taste ;  or,  as  we  should  rather  say,  it  was  the  intense 

1  Bouterwek,  x.  89-119,  has  given  an  ela-  turn  quo  cum  aliis  gentibns  possit  conten- 

borate  critique  of   the  poetry  of  Opitz :  dere."  —  Ep.  999.    Baillet  observes,  that 

l;  He  is  the  father,  not  of  German  poetry,  Opitz  passes  for  the  best  of  German  poets, 

but  of  the  modern  German  language  of  and  the  first  who  gave  rules  to  that  poetry, 

poetry,    der   neueren    deuttchen    Dichttr-  and  raised  it   to  the  state  it  had  since 

tprache." — p. 93.  The  fame  of  Opitz  spread  reached;  so  that  he  is  rather  to  be  ao- 

beyond  his  country,  little  as  his  language  counted    its    father    than    its    improver, 

was  familiar.     '•  Non    periit    Germania,"  Jugemens  des  Savans  (Poetes).  n.  1438. 

Grotius   writes   to    him,  in  1631,  ik  Opiti  But  reputation  is  transitory.     Though  ten 

doctisrfme,  quae  te  habet  locupletissimum  editions  of  the  poems  of  Opitz  were  pub- 

testem,  quid  lingua  Gennanica.  quid  in-  lished  within  the  seventeenth  centurv, — 

genia  Germanica  valeant."  —  Kpist.   272.  which  Bouterwek  thinks  much  for  "Ger- 

Aad  afterward?,  in  iggg.  thanking  him  for  many  at  that  tune,  though  it  would  not 

the    present   of    his   translation    of    the  be  so  much  in  some  countries, — scarce  any 

Psalms:  " Dignuserat rex  poeta interpret*  one,  except  the  lovers  of  old  literature, 

Germanorum  poetarum  rege  :   nihil  enim  now  asks  for  these  obiolete  productions 

tibi  blandiens  dioo :  ita  sentio  4  te  primum  p.  90. 
Germanics  poesi  fonnam  datum  et  habi- 

VOL.  ill.  16 


242  DUTCH  POETRY— SPIEGEL.  PART  111. 

theopathy  of  the  German  nation,  and  the  simple  majesty  of 
their  ecclesiastical  music.1 

27.  It  has  been  the  misfortune  of  the  Dutch,  a  great  people, 
Dutch         a  people  fertile  of  men  of  various  ability  and  erudi- 
P06*17*        tion,  a  people  of  scholars,  of  theologians  and  philo- 
sophers, of  mathematicians,  of  historians,  of  painters,  and,  we 
may  add,  of  poets,  that  these  last  have  been  the  mere  violets 
of  the   shade,  and    have    peculiarly  suffered  by  the  narrow 
limits  within  which  their  language  has  been  spoken  or  known. 
The  Flemish  dialect  of  the  Southern  Netherlands  might  have 
contributed  to  make  up  something  like  a  national  literature, 
extensive   enough   to   be  respected  in  Europe,  if  those  pro- 
vinces,  which  now  affect  the   name  of  Belgium,  had   been 
equally  fertile  of  talents  with  their  neighbors. 

28.  The  golden  age  of  Dutch  literature  is  this  first  part 
g  fe   j        of  the  seventeenth  century.     Their  chief  poets  are 

Spiegel,  Hooft,  Cats,  and  Vondel.  The  first,  who 
has  been  styled  the  Dutch  Ennius,  died  in  1612:  his  principal 
poem,  of  an  ethical  kind,  is  posthumous,  but  may  probably 
have  been  written  towards  the  close  of  the  preceding  century. 
"  The  style  is  vigorous  and  concise ;  it  is  rich  in  imagery  and 
powerfully  expressed,  but  is  deficient  in  elegance  and  perspi- 
cuity."2 Spiegel  had  rendered  much  service  to  his  native 
tongue,  and  was  a  member  of  a  literary  academy  which  pub- 
lished a  Dutch  gramma*  in  1584.  Koomhert  and  Dousa, 
with  others  known  to  fame,  were  his  colleagues ;  and  be  it 
remembered,  to  the  honor  of  Holland,  that  in  Germany  or 
England,  or  even  in  France,  there  was  as  yet  no  institution 
of  this  kind.  But  as  Holland  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  for  many  years  afterwards,  was  pre-eminently 
the  literary  country  of  Europe,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
endeavors  were  made,  though  unsuccessfully  as  to  European 
renown,  to  cultivate  the  native  language.  This  language  is 
also  more  soft,  though  less  sonorous,  than  the  German. 

29.  Spiegel  was  followed  by  a  more  celebrated  poet,  Peter 
Hooft.        Hooft,  who  gave  sweetness  and  harmony  to  Dutch 
vatfd          verse.     "  The  great  creative  power  of  poetry,"  it  has 

been  said,  "  he  did  not  possess ;  but  his  language  is 
correct,  his  style  agreeable,  and  he  did  much  to  introduce  a 
better  epoch  "s  His  amatory  and  Anacreontic  lines  have 
never  been  excelled  in  the  language ;  and  Hooft  is  also  distin- 

1  Bouterwck,  x.  218 ;  ESchhorn,  IT.  888  »  Biogr.  Uniy.  »  Id. 


CHAP.  V.  ENGLISH  POETS.  243 

guished  both  as  a  dramatist  and  an  historian.  He  has  been 
called  the  Tacitus  of  Holland.  But  here  again  his  praises 
must  by  the  generality  be  taken  upon  trust.  Cats  is  a  poet 
of  a  different  class  :  ease,  abundance,  simplicity,  clearness,  and 
purity,  are  the  qualities  of  his  style ;  his  imagination  is  gay, 
his  morality  popular  and  useful.  No  one  was  more  read  than 
Father  Cats,  as  the  people  call  him ;  but  he  is  often  trifling 
and  monotonous.  Cats,  though  he  wrote  for  the  multitude, 
whose  descendants  still  almost  know  his  poems  by  heart,  was 
a  man  whom  the  republic  held  in  high  esteem :  twice  ambas- 
sador in  England,  he  died  great  pensionary  of  Holland,  in 
1651.  Vondel,  a  native  of  Cologne,  but  the  glory,  as  he  is 
deemed,  of  Dutch  poetry,  was  best  known  as  a  tragedian. 
In  his  tragedies,  the  lyric  part,  the  choruses  which  he  retained 
after  the  ancient  model,  have  been  called  the  sublimest  of 
odes.  But  some  have  spoken  less  highly  of  Vondel.1 

30.    Denmark  had  no  literature  in  the  native  language, 
except  a  collection  of  old  ballads,  full  of  Scandina-    Danish 
vian  legends,  till  the  present  period ;   and  in  this  it     P°etry- 
does  not  appear  that  she  had  more  than  one  poet,  a  Norwe- 
gian bishop,  named  Arrebo.     Nothing,  I  believe,  was  written 
in  Swedish.     Sclavonian,  that  is,  Polish  and  Russian,  poets 
there  were ;   but  we  know  so  little  of  those  languages,  that 
they  cannot  enter,  at  least  during  so  distant  a  period,  into  the 
history  of  European  literature. 


SECT.  V.  —  ON  ENGLISH  POETRY. 

Imitators  of  Spenser — The  Fletchers — •Philosophical  Poets  —  Denham  —  Donne  - 
Cowley  —  Historical  and  Narrative  Poets  —  Shakspeare's  Sonnets  —  Lyric  1'oeta 
—  Milton's  Lycidas,  and  other  Poeins. 

31.  THE  English  poets  of  these  fifty  years  are  very  nume- 
rous ;  and,  though  the  greater  part  are  not  familiar 
to  the  general  reader,  they  form  a  favorite  study  of    poftfnu- 
those  who  cultivate  our  poetry,  and  are  sought  by  ™erous  tn 

11  n  f  i     •  •  v  "us  aSe' 

ail   collectors   01   scarce   and  interesting  literature. 

Many  of  them  have,  within  half  a  century,  been  reprinted 

1  Foreign  Quart.  Rev.,  vol.   iv.   p.  49.    I  am  indebted  to  Eichhorn,  vol.  iv.  part  I. ; 
for  this  short  account  of  the  Dutch  poets,    and  to  the  Biographic  Universoile. 


244  THE  FLETCHERS.  PART  III. 

separately ;  and  many  more,  in  the  useful  and  copious  collec- 
tions of  Anderson,  Chalmers,  and  other  editors.  Extracts 
have  also  been  made  by  Headley,  Ellis,  Campbell,  and 
Southey.  It  will  be  convenient  to  arrange  them  rather 
according  to  the  schools  to  which  they  belonged,  than  in  mere 
order  of  chronology. 

32.  Whatever  were  the  misfortunes  of  Spenser's  life,  what- 
Phineas      ever  neglect  he  might  have  experienced  at  the  hands 
j-ictcher.     of  a  statesman  grown  old  in  cares  which  render  a 
man  insensible  to  song,  his  spirit  might  be  consoled  by  the 
prodigious  reputation  of  the  Faery  Queen.     He  was  placed 
at  once  by  his  country  above  all  the  great  Italian  names,  and 
next  to  Virgil  among  the  ancients :  it  was  a  natural  conse- 
quence that  some  should  imitate  what  they  so  deeply  rever- 
enced.    An  ardent  admiration  for  Spenser  inspired  the  genius 
of  two  young  brothers,  Phineas  and  Giles  Fletcher.   The  first, 
very  soon  after  the  queen's  death,  as  some  allusions  to  Lord 
Essex  seemed  to  denote,  composed,  though  he  did  not  so  soon 
publish,  a  poem  entitled  The  Purple  Island.     By  this  strange 
name  he  expressed  a  subject  more  strange :  it  is  a  minute  and 
elaborate  account  of  the  body  and  mind  of  man.     Through 
five  cantos  the  reader  is  regaled  with  nothing  but  allegorical 
anatomy,  in  the  details  of  which  Phineas  seems   tolerably 
skilled,  evincing  a  great  deal  of  ingenuity  in  diversifying  his 
metaphors,  and  in  presenting  the  delineation  of  his  imaginary 
island  with  as  much  justice  as  possible  to  the  allegory  without 
obtruding  it  on  the  reader's  view.     In  the  sixth  canto,  he  rises 
to  the   intellectual  and   moral  faculties  of  the  soul,  which 
occupy  the  rest  of  the  poem.     From  its  nature,  it  is  insupera- 
bly wearisome ;  yet  his  language  is  often  very  poetical,  his 
versification  harmonious,  his  invention  fertile.     But  that  per- 
petual  monotony   of   allegorical    persons,    which    sometimes 
displeases  us  even  in  Spenser,  is  seldom  relieved  in  Fletcher ; 
the  understanding  revolts  at  the  confused  crowd  of  incon- 
ceivable beings  in  a  philosophical  poem  ;  and  the  justness  of 
analogy,  which  had  given  us  some  pleasure  in  the  anatomical 
cantos,  is  lost  in  tedious  descriptions  of  all  possible  moral 
qualities,  each  of  them  personified,  which  can  never  co-exist 
in  the  Purple  Island  of  one  individual. 

33.  Giles  Fletcher,  brother  of  Phineas,  in  Christ's  Victory 
and  Triumph,  though  his  subject  has  not  all  the  unity  that 
might  be  desired,  had  a  manifest  superiority  in  its  choice. 


CHAP.  V.  PHILOSOPHICAL  POETRY.  245 

Each  uses  a  stanza  of  his  own :  Phineas,  one  of  seven  lines  • 
Giles,  one  of  eight.  This  poem  was  published  in  Giles 
1610.  Each  brother  alludes  to  the  work  of  the  Fleteher- 
other,  which  must  be  owing  to  the  alterations  made  by  Phineas 
in  his  Purple  Island,  written  probably  the  first,  but  not  pub- 
lished, I  believe,  till  1 633.  Giles  seems  to  have  more  vigor 
than  his  elder  brother,  but  less  sweetness,  less  smoothness, 
and  more  affectation  in  his  style.  This,  indeed,  is  deformed 
by  words  neither  English  nor  Latin,  but  simply  barbarous ; 
such  as  clamping,  eblazon,  deprostrate,  purpured,  glitterand,  and 
many  others.  They  both  bear  much  resemblance  to  Spenser. 
Giles  sometimes  ventures  to  cope  with  him,  even  in  celebrated 
passages,  such  as  the  description  of  the  Cave  of  Despair.1 
And  he  has  had  the  honor,  in  turn,  of  being  followed  by 
Milton,  especially  in  the  first  meeting  of  our  Saviour  with 
Satan,  in  the  Paradise  Regained.  Both  of  these  brothers  are 
deserving  of  much  praise :  they  were  endowed  with  minds 
eminently  poetical,  and  not  inferior  in  imagination  to  any  of 
their  contemporaries.  But  an  injudicious  taste,  and  an  ex- 
cessive fondness  for  a  style  which  the  public  was  rapidly 
abandoning,  —  that  of  allegorical  personification,  —  prevented 
their  powers  from  being  effectively  displayed. 

34.  Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of  Spenser,  and  the 
general  pride  in  his  name,  that  allegorical  and  ima-  phiiosopM 
ginative  school  of  poetry,  of  which  he  was  the  caip06^- 
greatest  ornament,  did  not  by  any  means  exclude  a  very  dif- 
ferent kind.  The  English,  or  such  as  by  their  education  gave 
the  tone  in  literature,  had  become,  in  the  latter  years  of  the 
queen,  and  still  more  under  her  successor,  a  deeply  thinking, 
a  learned,  a  philosophical  people.  A  sententious  reasoning, 
grave,  subtle  and  condensed,  or  the  novel  and  remote  analogies 
of  wit,  gained  praise  from  many  whom  the  creations  of  an  ex- 
cursive fancy  could  not  attract.  Hence  much  of  the  poetry 
of  James's  reign  is  distinguished  from  that  of  Elizabeth, 
except  perhaps  her  last  years,  by  partaking  of  the  general 
character  of  the  age  ;  deficient  in  simplicity,  grace,  and  feeling, 
often  obscure  and  pedantic,  but  impressing  us  with  a  respect 
for  the  man,  where  we  do  not  recognize  the  poet.  From  this 
condition  of  public  taste  arose  two  schools  of  poetry,  different 
in  character,  if  not  unequal  in  merit,  but  both  appealing  to  the 
reasoning  more  than  to  the  imaginative  faculty  as  their  judge, 

»  Christ's  Viet,  and  Triumph,  ii.  28. 


246  LORD  BROOKE  —  DENHAM.  PART  1IL 

35.  The  first  of  these  may  own  as  its  founder  Sir  John 

Davies,  whose  poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul, 
*'  published  in  1599,  has  had  its  due  honor  in  our  last 
volume.  Davies  is  eminent  for  perspicuity ;  but  this  cannot 
be  said  for  another  philosophical  poet,  Sir  Fulke  Greville, 
afterwards  Lord  Brooke,  the  bosom  friend  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  and  once  the  patron  of  Jordano  Bruno.  The  titles 
of  Lord  Brooke's  poems,  A  Treatise  of  Human  Learning,  A 
Treatise  of  Monarchy,  A  Treatise  of  Religion,  An  Inquisition 
upon  Fame  and  Honor,  lead  us  to  anticipate  more  of  sense 
than  fancy.  In  this  we  are  not  deceived :  his  mind  was  preg- 
nant with  deep  reflection  upon  multifarious  learning ;  but  he 
struggles  to  give  utterance  to  thoughts  which  he  had  not  fully 
endowed  with  words,  and  amidst  the  shackles  of  rhyme  and 
metre,  which  he  had  not  learned  to  manage.  Hence  of  all 
our  poel«  he  may  be  reckoned  the  most  obscure ;  in  aiming  at 
condensation,  he  becomes  elliptical  beyond  the  bounds  of  the 
language ;  and  his  rhymes,  being  forced  for  the  sake  of  sound, 
leave  all  meaning  behind.  Lord  Brooke's  poetry  is  chiefly 
worth  notice  as  an  indication  of  that  thinking  spirit  upon 
political  science  which  was  to  produce  the  riper  speculations 
of  Hobbes  and  Harrington  and  Locke. 

36.  This  argumentative  school  of  verse  was  so  much  in 
unison  with  the  character  of  that  generation,  that  Daniel,  a 
poet  of  a  very  different  temper,  adopted  it  in  his  panegyric 
addressed  to  James  soon  after  his  accession,  and  in  some 
other  poems.      It   had   an   influence  upon  others  who  trod 
generally  in  a  different  track,  as  is  especially  perceived  in 
Denham'g     Giles   Fletcher.     The   Cooper's   Hill  of  Sir  John 
cooper's      Denham,  published  in  1643,  belongs,  in  a  considera- 
ble degree,  to  this  reasoning  class  of  poems.     It  is 

also  descriptive ;  but  the  description  is  made  to  slide  into  philo- 
sophy. The  plan  is  original,  as  far  as  our  poetry  is  concerned ; 
and  I  do  not  recollect  any  exception  in  other  languages. 
Placing  himself  upon  an  eminence  not  distant  from  Windsor, 
he  takes  a  survey  of  the  scene ;  he  finds  the  tower  of  St. 
Paul's  on  its  farthest  horizon,  the  Castle  much  nearer,  and  the 
Thames  at  his  feet.  These,  with  the  ruins  of  an  abbey,  sup- 
ply, in  turn,  materials  for  a  reflecting  rather  than  imaginative 
mind,  and,  with  a  stag-hunt,  which  he  has  very  well  described, 
fill  up  the  canvas  of  a  poem  of  no  great  length,  but  once  of 
no  trifling  reputation. 


CHAP.  V.         METAPHYSICAL  POETS.  247 

37.  The  epithet,  majestic  Denham,  conferred  by  Pope,  con- 
veys rather  too  much  ;  but  Cooper's  Hill  is  no  ordinary  poem. 
It  is  nearly  the  first  instance  of  vigorous    and   rhythmical 
couplets;  for  Denham  is  incomparably  less  feeble  than  Browne, 
and  less  prosaic  than  Beaumont.     Close  in  thought,  and  ner- 
vous in  language  like  Davies,  he  is  less  hard  and  less  mono- 
tonous ;    his  cadences  are  animated  and  various,  perhaps  a 
little  beyond  the  regularity  that  metre  demands  ;  they  have 
been  the  guide  to  the  finer  ear  of  Dryden.     Those  who  cannot 
endure  the  philosophic  poetry  must  ever  be  dissatisfied  with 
Cooper's  Hill;  no  personification,  no  ardent  words,  few  me- 
taphors  beyond   the    common   use    of  speech,    nothing   that 
warms  or  melts  or  fascinates  the  heart.     It  is  rare  to  find 
lines  of  eminent  beauty  in  Denham  ;   and  equally  so  to  bo 
struck  by  any  one  as  feeble  or  low.     His  language  is  always 
well  chosen  and  perspicuous,  free  from  those  strange  turns  of 
expression,  frequent  in  our  older  poets,  where  the  reader  is 
apt   to  suspect  some  error  of  the  press,  so  irreconcilable  do 
they  seem  with  grammar  or  meaning.     The    expletive   do, 
which  the  best  of  his  predecessors  use  freely,  seldom  occurs  in 
Denham  ;  and  he  has  in  other  respects  brushed  away  the  rust 
of  languid  and  ineffective  redundancies  which  have  obstructed 
the  popularity  of  men  with  more  native  genius  than  himself.1 

38.  Another  class  of  poets  in  the  reigns  of  Jame^and  his 
son  were  those  whom  Johnson  has  called  the  meta-  p^ts  called 
physical  ;    a  name  rather   more   applicable,   in    the  nietaphy- 
ordinary  use  of  the  word,  to   Davies  and  Brooke. 

These  were  such  as  labored  after  conceits,  or  novel  turns  of 
thought,  usually  false,  and  resting  upon  some  equivocation 
of  language,  or  exceedingly  remote  analogy.  This  style 
Johnson  supposes  to  have  been  derived  from  Marini.  But 
Donne,  its  founder,  as  Johnson  imagines,  in  England,  wrote 

1  The  comparison  by  Denham  between  parison.  and  metaphorically  on  the  other  ; 
the  Thames  and  his  own  poetry  was  once  and.  if  there  be  any  language  which  doe* 
celebrated  :  —  not  express  intellectual  operation?  bv  ma- 


•'  Oh  could  I  now  like  thee,  and  make  thy 


rase;  without  o'ernow-  % 

on  a  play  of  words.      They  are    rather 

Johnson,  while  he  highly  extols  these  ingenious  in  this  respect,  and  remarkably 
lines,  truly  ob.-=erves,  that  "  most  of  the  harmonious,  which  is  probably  the  secret 
words  thus  artfully  opposed  are  to  be  of  their  popularity  :  but,  aa  poetry,  they 
understood  simply  o"n  one  side  of  the  com-  deserve  no  great  praise. 


248  DONNE.  PART  m. 

before  Marini.  It  is,  in  fact,  as  we  have  lately  observed,  the 
style  which,  though  Marini  has  earned  the  discreditable  repu- 
tation of  perverting  the  taste  of  his  country  by  it,  had  been 
gaining  ground  through  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. It  was,  in  a  more  comprehensive  view,  one  modifi- 
cation of  that  vitiated  taste  which  sacrificed  all  ease  and 
naturalness  of  writing  and  speaking  for  the  sake  of  display. 
The  mythological  erudition  and  Grecisms  of  Ronsard's  school, 
the  euphuism  of  that  of  Lilly,  the  estilo  culto  of  Gongora, 
even  the  pedantic  quotations  of  Burton  and  many  similar 
writers,  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent,  sprang,  like  the 
concetti  of  the  Italians  and  of  their  English  imitators,  from 
the  same  source,  a  dread  of  being  overlooked  if  they  paced  on 
like  their  neighbors.  And  when  a  few  writers  had  set  the 
example  of  successful  faults,  a  bad  style,  where  no  sound  prin- 
ciples of  criticism  had  been  established,  readily  gaining  ground, 
it  became  necessary  that  those  who  had  not  vigor  enough  to 
rise  above  the  fashion  should  seek  to  fall  in  with  it.  Nothing 
is  more  injurious  to  the  cultivation  of  verse  than  the  trick  of 
desiring,  for  praise  or  profit,  to  attract  those  by  poetry  whom 
nature  has  left  destitute  of  every  quality  which  genuine 
poetry  can  attract.  The  best,  and  perhaps  the  only  secure, 
basis  for  public  taste,  for  an  aesthetic  appreciation  of  beauty, 
in  a  court,  a  college,  a  city,  is  so  general  a  diffusion  of  classi- 
cal knowledge,  as  by  rendering  the  finest  models  familiar,  and 
by  giving  them  a  sort  of  authority,  will  discountenance  and 
check  at  the  outset  the  vicious  novelties  which  always  exert 
some  influence  over  uneducated  minds.  But  this  was  not 
yet  the  case  in  England.  Milton  was  perhaps  the  first  writer 
who  eminently  possessed  a  genuine  discernment  and  feeling 
of  antiquity ;  though  it  may  be  perceived  in  Spenser,  and 
also  in  a  very  few  who  wrote  in  prose. 

39.  Donne  is  generally  esteemed  the  earliest,  as  Cowley 
Donne.  was  afterwards  the  most  conspicuous,  model  of  this 
manner.  Many  instances  of  it,  however,  occur  in 
the  lighter  poetry  of  the  queen's  reign.  Donne  is  the  most 
inharmonious  of  our  versifiers,  if  he  can  be  said  to  have  de- 
served such  a  name  by  lines  too  rugged  to  seem  metre.  Of  his 
earlier  poems,  many  are  very  licentious ;  the  later  are  chiefly 
devout.  Few  are  good  for  much  ;  the  conceits  have  not  even 
the  merit  of  being  intelligible  :  it  would  perhaps  be  difficult  to 
select  three  passages  that  we  should  care  to  read  again. 


CHAT.  ?  CRASHAW— COWLEY  24S 

40.  The  second  of  these  poets  was  Crashaw,  a  man  of 
some  imagination  and  great  piety,  but  whose  softness   Crashaw 
of  heart,  united  'with  feeble  judgment,  led  him  to 
admire  and  imitate  whatever  was  most  extravagant  in   the 
mystic  writings  of  Saint  Teresa.     He  was,  more  than  Donne, 
a  follower  of  Marini ;  one  of  whose  poems,  The  Massacre  of 
the  Innocents,  he  translated  with  success.     It  is  difficult,  in 
general,  to  find  any  thing  in  Crashaw  that  bad  taste  has  not 
deformed.     His  poems  were  first  published  in  1646. 

41.  In  the  next  year,  1647,  Cowley's  Mistress  appeared; 
the  most  celebrated  performance  of  the  miscalled    Cowl 
metaphysical  poets.     It  is  a  series  of  short  amatory 
poems,  in  the.  Italian  style  of  the  age,  full  of  analogies  that 
have  no  semblance  of  truth,    except  from  the  double  sense 
of  words  and  thoughts  that  unite  the  coldness  of  subtilty  with 
the  hyperbolical  extravagance  of  counterfeited  passion.      A 
few  Anacreontic  poems,  and  some  other  light  pieces  of  Cowley, 
have  a  spirit  and  raciness  very  unlike  these  frigid  conceits  ; 
and,  in  the  ode  on  the  death  of  his  friend  Mr.  Harvey,  he  gave 
some  proofs  of  real  sensibility  and  poetic  grace.     The  Pin- 
daric odes  of  Cowley  were  not  published  within  this  period. 
But  it  is  not  worth  while  to  defer  mention  of  them.     They 
contain,  like  all  his  poetry,  from  time  to  time,  very  beautiful 
lines  ;  but  the  faults  are  still  of  the  same  kind  :  his  sensibility 
and  good  sense,  nor  has  any  poet  more,  are  choked  by  false 
taste ;  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  fix  on  any  one  poem  in 
which  the  beauties  are  more  frequent  than   the  blemishes. 
Johnson  has  selected  the  elegy  on  Crashaw  as  the  finest  of 
Cowley's  works.     It  begins  with  a  very  beautiful  couplet,  but 
I  confess  that  little  else  seems,  to  my  taste,  of  much  value. 
The  Complaint,  probably  better  known  than  any  other  poem, 
appears  to  me  the  best  in  itself.      His  disappointed  hopes 
give  a  not  unpleasing  melancholy  to  several  passages.     But 
his  Latin  ode  in  a  similar  strain  is  much  more  perfect.    ^  Cow- 
ley,  perhaps,  upon  the  whole,  has  had  a  reputation  more  above 
his  deserts  than  any  English  poet ;  yet  it  is  very  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  some,  who  wrote  better  than  he,  did  not  possess  so 
fine  a  genius.     Johnson  has  written  the  life  of  Cowley  with 
peculiar  care ;  and,  as  his  summary  of  the  poet's  character  is 
more  favorable  than  my  own,  it  may  be  candid  to  insert  it  in 
this  place,  as  at  least  very  discriminating,  elaborate,  and  well 
expressed. 


250  NARRATIVE  POETS  —  DANIEL.  PART  III. 

42.  "It  may  be  affirmed  without  any  encomiastic  fervor, 
Johnson's    *^at  ^e  brought  to  his  poetic  labors  a  mind  replete 
character     with  learning,  and  that  his  pages  are  embellished 

with  all  the  ornaments  which  books  could  supply ; 
that  he  was  the  first  who  imparted  to  English  numbers  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  greater  ode,  and  the  gayety  of  the  less ; 1 
that  he  was  equally  qualified  for  sprightly  sallies  and  for  lofty 
flights ;  that  he  was  among  those  who  freed  translation  from 
servility,  and,  instead  of  following  his  author  at  a  distance, 
walked  by  his  side ;  and  that,  if  he  left  versification  yet  im- 
provable, he  left  likewise,  from  time  to  time,  such  specimens  of 
excellence  as  enabled  succeeding  poets  to  improve  it." 

43.  The  poets  of  historical  or  fabulous  narrative  belong  to 
„      ..       another  class.     Of  these  the  earliest  is  Daniel,  whose 

Narrative  .  /»n  i    '•«_««_• 

poets:  minor  poems  fall  partly  within  the  sixteenth  century. 
Daniel.  jjjs  historv  Of  tfje  Civil  Wars  between  York  and 
Lancaster,  a  poem  in  eight  books,  was  published  in  1604. 
Faithfully  adhering  to  truth,  which  he  does  not  suffer  so  much 
as  an  ornamental  episode  to  interrupt,  and  equally  studious  to 
avoid  the  bolder  figures  of  poetry,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Daniel  should  be  little  read.  It  is,  indeed,  certain  that  much 
Italian  and  Spanish  poetry,  even  by  those  whose  name  has 
once  stood  rather  high,  depends  chiefly  upon  merits  which  he 
abundantly  possesses,  —  a  smoothness  of  rhythm,  and  a  lucid 
narration  in  simple  language.  But  that  which  from  the  natu- 
ral delight  in  sweet  sound  is  enough  to  content  the  ear  in  the 
Southern  tongues,  will  always  seem  bald  and  tame  in  our  less 
harmonious  verse.  It  is  the  chief  praise  of  Daniel,  and  must 
have  contributed  to  what  popularity  he  enjoyed  in  his  own 
age,  that  his  English  is  eminently  pure,  free  from  affectation 
of  archaism  and  from  pedantic  innovatidn,  with  very  little 
that  is  now  obsolete.  Both  in  prose  and  in  poetry,  he  is,  as 
to  language,  ammg  the  best  writers  of  his  time,  and  wanted 
but  a  greater  confidence  in  his  own  power,  or,  to  speak  less 
indulgently,  a  greater  share  of  it,  to  sustain  his  correct  taste, 
calm  sense,  and  moral  feeling. 

44.  Next  to  Daniel  in  time,  and  much  above  him  in  reach 
Prayton's    of  mind,  we  place  Michael  Drayton,  whose  Barons' 
poiyoibion.  ^Varg  nave   been   mentioned   under   the   preceding 
period,  but  whose  more  famous  work  was  published  partly  in 

1  Was  not  Milton's  Ode  on  the  Nativity    would  Johnson  have  thought  Cowley  so- 
written  as  early  as  any  of  Cowley 'a  !    And    perior  in  gayety  to  Sir  John  Suckling  ? 


CHAP.  V.  DRAYTON  — BROWNE.  251 

1613,  and  partly  in  1622.  Drayton's  Polyolbion  is  a  poem 
of  about  30,000  lines  in  length,  written  in  Alexandrine  coup- 
lets ;  a  measure,  from  its  monotony,  and  perhaps  from  its  fre- 
quency in  doggerel  ballads,  not  at  all  pleasing  to  the  ear.  It 
contains  a  topographical  description  of  England,  illustrated 
with  a  prodigality  of  historical  and  legendary  erudition. 
Such  a  poem  is  essentially  designed  to  instruct,  and  speaks  to 
the  understanding  more  than  to  the  fancy.  The  powers  dis- 
played in  it  are,  however,  of  a  high  cast.  It  has  generally 
been  a  difficulty  with  poets  to  deal  with  a  necessary  enumera- 
tion of  proper  names.  The  catalogue  of  ships  is  not  the  most 
delightful  part  of  the  Iliad ;  and  Ariosto  never  encountered 
such  a  roll  of  persons  or  places  without  sinking  into  the 
tamest  insipidity.  Virgil  is  splendidly  beautiful  upon  similar 
occasions  ;  but  his  decorative  elegance  could  not  be  preserved, 
nor  would  continue  to  please,  in  a  poem  that  kept  up,  through 
a  great  length,  the  effort  to  furnish  instruction.  The  style  of 
Drayton  is  sustained,  with  extraordinary  ability,  on  an  equable 
line,  from  which  he  seldom  much  deviates,  neither  brilliant 
nor  prosaic :  few  or  no  passages  could  be  marked  as  impres- 
sive, but  few  are  languid  or  mean.  The  language  is  clear, 
strong,  various,  and  sufficiently  figurative ;  the  stories  and 
fictions  interspersed,  as  well  as  the  general  spirit  and  liveli- 
ness, relieve  the  heaviness  incident  to  topographical  descrip- 
tion. There  is  probably  no  poem  of  this  kind,  in  any  other 
language,  comparable  together  in  extent  and  excellence  to  the 
Polyolbion ;  nor  can  any  one  read  a  portion  of  it  without 
admiration  for  its  learned  and  highly  gifted  author.  Yet 
perhaps  no  English  poem,  known  as  well  by  name,  is  so  little 
known  beyond  its  name ;  for,  while  its  immense  length  deters 
the  common  reader,  it  affords,  as  has  just  been  hinted,  no 
great  harvest  for  selection,  and  would  be  judged  very  unfairly 
by  partial  extracts.  It  must  be  owned  also,  that  geography 
and  antiquities  may,  in  modern  times,  be  taught  better  in 
prose  than  in  verse ;  yet  whoever  consults  the  Polyolbion  for 
such  objects  will  probably  be  repaid  by  petty  knowledge 
which  he  may  not  have  found  anywhere  else. 

45.  Among  these  historical  poets  I  should  incline  to  class 
William  Browne,  author  of  a  poem  with  the  quaint  Browne,g 
title  of  Britannia's  Pastorals ;  though  his  story,  one  Britanma'g 
of  little  interest,  seems  to  have  been  invented  by  F 
himself.     Browne,  indeed,  is  of  no  distinct  school  among  the 


252  BEAUMONT  — DAVENANT.  PART  HI. 

writers  of  that  age:  he  seems  to  recognize  Spenser  as  hi? 
master;  but  his  own  manner  is  more  to  be  traced  among  later 
than  earlier  poets.  He  was  a  native  of  Devonshire ;  and  his 
principal  poem,  above  mentioned,  relating  partly  to  the  local 
scenery  of  that  county,  was  printed  in  1613.  Browne  is 
truly  a  poet,  full  of  imagination,  grace,  and  sweetness,  though 
not  very  nervous  or  rapid.  I  know  not  why  Headley,  favora- 
ble enough  for  the  most  part  to  this  generation  of  the  sons  of 
song,  has  spoken  of  Browne  with  unfair  contempt.  Justice, 
however,  has  been  done  to  him  by  later  critics.1  But  I  have 
not  observed  that  they  take  notice  of  what  is  remarkable  in 
the  history  of  our  poetical  literature,  that  Browne  is  an  early 
model  of  ease  and  variety  in  the  regular  couplet.  Many 
passages  in  his  unequal  poem  are  hardly  excelled,  in  this 
respect,  by  the  fables  of  Dryden.  It  is  manifest  that  Milton 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Browne. 

46.  The  commendation  of  improving  the  rhythm  of  the 
Sir  John      couplet  is  due  also  to  Sir  John  Beaumont,  author  of 
Beaumont.  a  s^ort  p()em  on  the  battie  of  Bosworth  Field.     It 

was  not  written,  however,  so  early  as  the  Britannia's  Pastor- 
als of  Browne.  In  other  respects,  it  has  no  pretensions  to  a 
high  rank.  But  it  may  be  added,  that  a  poem  of  Drummond, 
on  the  visit  of  James  I.  to  Scotland  in  1617,  is  perfectly  har- 
monious ;  and,  what  is  very  remarkable  in  that  age,  he  con- 
cludes the  verse  at  every  couplet  with  the  regularity  of  Pope. 

47.  Far  unlike  the  poem  of  Browne  was  Gondibert,  pub- 
Davenant'g  lished  by  Sir  William  Davenant  in  1650.     It  may 
Gondibert.    probabiy  have  been  reckoned  by  himself  an  epic ; 
but  in  that  age  the  practice  of  Spain  and  Italy  had  effaced  the 
distinction  between  the  regular  epic  and  the  heroic  romance. 
Gondibert  belongs  rather  to  the  latter   class   by  the   entire 
want  of  truth  in  the  story,  though  the  scene  is  laid  at  the 
court  of  the  Lombard  kings ;  by  the  deficiency  of  unity  in  the 
action ;  by  the  intricacy  of  the  events ;  and  by  the  resources  of 
the  fable,  which  are  sometimes  too  much  in  the  style  of  comic 
fiction.     It  is  so  imperfect,  only  two  books  and  part  of  the 

»  "  Browne,"  Mr.  Southey  gays,  "  Is  a  admirers  and  imitators  hereafter."    ".  His 

poet  who  produced  no  slight  effect  upon  poetry,"    Mr.  Campbell,  a  far  lass  indul- 

liis  contemporaries.     George  Wither,  in  his  gent  judge  of  the  older  bards,  observes, 

happiest  pieces, has  learned  the  manner  of  "is  not  without  beauty  ;    but  it  is   the 

his  friend;   and  Milton  may  be  traced  to  beauty  of  mere  landscape  and  allegory, 

him.    And,  in  our  days,  his  peculiarities  without  the  manners  and  passions   that 

have  been  caught,  and  his  beauties  imi-  constitute  human  interest."  —  Specimen! 

tated   by  men  who  will  themselves  find  of  KugUsh  Poetry,  ir.  323. 


CHAP.  V.  SHAKSPEARE'S  SONNETS.  253 

third  being  completed,  that  we  can  hardly  judge  of  the  termi- 
nation it  was  to  receive.  Each  book,  however,  after  the 
manner  of  Spenser,  is  divided  into  several  cantos.  It  con- 
tains about  6,000  lines.  The  metre  is  the  four-lined  stanza  of 
alternate  rhymes ;  one  capable  of  great  vigor,  but  not  perhaps 
well  adapted  to  poetry  of  imagination  or  of  passion.  These, 
however,  Davenant  exhibits  but  sparingly  in  Gondibert :  they 
are  replaced  by  a  philosophical  spirit,  in  the  tone  of  Sir  John 
Davies,  who  had  adopted  the  same  metre,  and,  as  some  have 
thought,  nourished  by  the  author's  friendly  intercourse  with 
Hobbes.  Gondibert  is  written  in  a  clear,  nervous  English 
style  :  its  condensation  produces  some  obscurity ;  but  pedant- 
ry, at  least  that  of  language,  will  rarely  be  found  in  it ;  and 
Davenant  is  less  infected  by  the  love  of  conceit  and  of  extra- 
vagance than  his  contemporaries,  though  I  would  not  assert 
that  he  is  wholly  exempt  from  the  former  blemish.  But  the 
chief  praise  of  Gondibert  is  due  to  masculine  verse  in  a  good 
metrical  cadence ;  for  the  sake  of  which  we  may  forgive  the 
absence  of  interest  in  the  story,  and  even  of  those  glowing 
words  and  breathing  thoughts  which  are  the  soul  of  genuine 
poetry.  Gondibert  is  very  little  read ;  yet  it  is  better  worth 
reading  than  the  Purple  Island,  though  it  may  have  less  of 
that  which  distinguishes  a  poet  from  another  man. 

48.  The  sonnets  of  Shakspeare  —  for  we  now  come  to  the 
minor,  that  is  the  shorter  and  more  lyric,  poetry  of  sonnets  of 
the  age  —  were  published  in  1609,  in  a  manner  as  Shakspeare. 
mysterious  as  their  subject  and  contents.  They  are  dedi- 
cated by  an  editor  (Thomas  Thorpe,  a  bookseller)  "  to  Mr. 
W.  H.,  the  only  begetter  of  these  sonnets." l  No  one,  as  far 
as  I  remember,  has  ever  doubted  their  genuineness ;  no  one 
can  doubt  that  they  express  not  only  real  but  intense  emo- 
tions of  the  heart :  but  when  they  were  written,  who  was  the 
W.  H.  quaintly  called  their  begetter,  by  which  we  can  only 
understand  the  cause  of  their  being  written,  and  to  what  per- 
sons or  circumstances  they  allude,  has  of  late  years  been  the 
subject  of  much  curiosity.  These  sonnets  were  long  over- 

1  The  precise  words  of  the  dedication  Wisheth  the 

we  the  following :  —  Well-wishing  Adventurer 

"To  the  only  Begetter  In  setting  forth 

Of  these  ensuing  Sonnets, 

Mr.  \V.  II.,  The  tjtlepage  runs:  "  Shakspeare's  Son- 
All  Happiness                         '  nets,  never  before  imprinted,  4  to.    1608. 

And  that  eternity  promised  Q.  Eld  for  T.  T." 
By  our  ever-living  poet 


254  SHAKSPEARE'S  SONNETS.  PAKT  1IL 

looked :  Steevens  spoke  of  them  with  the  utmost  scorn,  as 
productions  which  no  one  could  read:  but  a  very  different 
suffrage  is  generally  given  by  the  lovers  of  poetiy ;  and  per- 
haps there  is  now  a  tendency,  especially  among  young  men 
of  poetical  tempers,  to  exaggerate  the  beauties  of  these 
remarkable  productions.  They  rise,  indeed,  in  estimation, 
as  we  attentively  read  and  reflect  upon  them ;  for  I  do  not 
think  that  at  first  they  give  us  much  pleasure.  No  one  ever 
entered  more  fully  than  Shakspeare  into  the  character  of  this 
species  of  poetry,  which  admits  of  no  expletive  imagery,  no 
merely  ornamental  line.  But,  though  each  sonnet  has  gene- 
rally its  proper  unity,  the  sense,  I  do  not  mean  the  gramma- 
tical construction,  will  sometimes  be  found  to  spread  from  one 
to  another,  independently  of  that  repetition  of  the  leading 
idea,  like  variations  of  an  air,  which  a  series  of  them  fre- 
quently exhibits,  and  on  account  of  which  they  have  latterly 
been  reckoned  by  some  rather  an  integral  poem  than  a  collec- 
tion of  sonnets.  But  this  is  not  uncommon  among  the  Italians, 
and  belongs,  in  fact,  to  those  of  Petrarch  himself.  They  may 
easily  be  resolved  into  several  series,  according  to  their  sub- 
jects : l  but,  when  read  attentively,  we  find  them  relate  to  one 
definite,  though  obscure,  period  of  the  poet's  life ;  in  which 
an  attachment  to  some  female,  which  seems  to  have  touched 
neither  his  heart  nor  his  fancy  very  sensibly,  was  over- 
powered, without  entirely  ceasing,  by  one  to  a  friend ;  and  this 
last  is  of  such  an  enthusiastic  character,  and  so  extravagant  in 
the  phrases  that  the  author  uses,  as  to  have  thrown  an  unac- 
countable mystery  over  the  whole  work.  It  is  true,  that  in  the 
poetry  as  well  as  in  the  fictions  of  early  ages  we  find  a  more 
ardent  tone  of  affection  in  the  language  of  friendship  than  has 
since  been  usual ;  and  yet  no  instance  has  been  adduced  of 
such  rapturous  devotedness,  such  an  idolatry  of  admiring  love, 
as  one  of  the  greatest  beings  whom  nature  ever  produced  in 
the  human  form  pours  forth  to  some  unknown  youth  in  the 
majority  of  these  sonnets. 

49.  The  notion  that  a  woman  was  their  general  object  is 

1  This  has  been  done  in  a  late  publica-  former  and   latter    part  of  the  sonnets, 

tion,  Shakspeare's   Autobiographical   Po-  Mr.   Brown's  work   did  not  fall  into  my 

cms,  by  George  Armitage  Urown  (1838).  hands  till  nearly  the  time  that  these  sheets 

It  might  have  occurred  to  any  attentive  passed  through  the  press,  which  I  mention 

reader  j  but  I  do  not  know  that  the  ana-  on  account  of  some  coincidences  of  opinion, 

lysis  was  ever  so  completely  made  before,  especially  as  to   Shakspeare's    knowledge 

though  almost  every  one  has  been  aware  of  Latin, 
that  different  persons  are  addressed  in  the 


CHAP.  V.  SHAKSPEAEE'S  SONNETS.  255 

totally  untenable,  and  it  is  strange  that  Coleridge  should 
have  entertained  it.1  Those  that  were  evidently  The  person 
addressed  to  a  woman,  the  person  above  hinted,  wh°m  they 
are  by  much  the  smaller  part  of  the  whole,  —  but  * 
twenty-eight  out  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-four.  And  this 
mysterious  Mr.  W.  H.  must  be  presumed  to  be  the  idolized 
friend  of  Shakspeare.  But  who  could  he  be  ?  No  one  re- 
corded as  such  in  literary  history  or  anecdote  answers  the 
description.  But  if  we  seize  a  clew  which  innumerable  pas- 
sages give  us,  and  suppose  that  they  allude  to  a  youth  of  high 
rank  as  well  as  personal  beauty  and  accomplishment,  in  whose 
favor  and  intimacy,  according  to  the  base  prejudices  of  the 
world,  a  player  and  a  poet,  though  he  were  the  author  of 
Macbeth,  might  be  thought  honored,  something  of  the  strange- 
ness, as  it  appears  to  us,  of  Shakspeare's  humiliation  in  address- 
ing him  as  a  being  before  whose  feet  he  crouched,  whose  frown 
he  feared,  whose  injuries,  and  those  of  the  most  insulting  kind, 
—  the  seduction  of  the  mistress  to  whom  we  have  alluded, — he 
felt  and  bewailed  without  resenting ;  something,  I  say,  of  the 
strangeness  of  this  humiliation,  and  at  best  it  is  but  little, 
may  be  lightened,  and  in  a  certain  sense  rendered  intelligible. 
And  it  has  been  ingeniously  conjectured  within  a  few  years, 
by  inquirers  independent  of  each  other,  that  William  Her- 
bert, Earl  of  Pembroke,  born  in  1580,  and  afterwards  a  man 
of  noble  and  gallant  character,  though  always  of  a  licentious 
life,  was  shadowed  under  the  initials  of  Mr.  W.  H.  This 
hypothesis  is  not  strictly  proved,  but  sufficiently  so,  in  my 
opinion,  to  demand  our  assent.2 

1  "  It  seems  to  me.   that  the  sonnets    quoted,  had  any  knowledge  of  their  pri- 
could  only  hare  come  from  a  man  deeply    ority. 

in  love,  and  in  love  with  a  woman :  and  Drake  has  fixed  on  Lord  Southampton 

there  is  one  sonnet,  which,  from  its  incon-  as  the  object  of  these  sonnets,  induced 

graity,  I  take  to  be  a  purposed  blind." —  probably  by  the  tradition  of  his  friendship 

Table  Talk,  vol.  ii.  p    180.     This  sonnet  with  Shakspeare,  and  by  the  latter'*  hav- 

the  editor  supposes  to  be  the  twentieth,  ing  dedicated  to  him  his  Venus  and  Adonis, 

which  certainly  could  not  have  been  ad-  as  well  as  by  what  is  remarkable  on  the 

dressed  to  a  woman ;   but  the  proof  is  face  of  the  series  of  sonnets,  —  that  Shak- 

equally   strong  as  to  most  of  the  rest,  speare  looked  up  to  his  friend  "  with  revc- 

Coleridge's  opinion  is  absolutely  untena-  rence  and  homage."    But,  unfortunately, 

hie :  nor  do  I  conceive  that  any  one  else  is  this  was  only  the  reverence  and  homage  of 

likely  to  maintain  it  after  reading  the  son-  an  inferior  to  one  of  high  rank,  and  not 

nets  of  Shakspeare :    but,  to  those  who  such  as  the  virtues  of  Southampton  might 

have   not  done  this,  the  authority  may  have  challenged.     Proofs  of  the  low  moral 

justly  seem  imposing.  character  of  "Mr.  W.  II."  are  continu.il. 

2  In  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1832,  It  was  also  impossible  that  Lord  South- 
p.  217  et  post   it  will  be  seen,  that  this  oc-  amptoa  could  be  called  ••  beauteous  and 
curred  both  to  Mr.  Boaden  and  Mr  Hey-  lovely  youth,"  or   "  sweet  boy."      Mrs. 
wood  Bright.   And  it  does  not  appear,  that  Jameson,  in  her  Loves  of  the  Poets,  has 
Mr.  Brown,  author  of  the  work  above  adopted  the  same  hypothesis,  but  is  forced 


256  DRUMMOND.  PAKT  III. 

50.  Notwithstanding  the  frequent  beauties  of  these  sonnets, 
the  pleasure  of  their  perusal  is  greatly  diminished  by  these 
circumstances ;   and  it  is  impossible  not  to  wish  that  Shak- 
speare  had  never  written  them.   There  is  a  weakness  and  folly 
in  all  excessive  and  misplaced  affection,  which  is  not  redeemed 
by  the  touches  of  nobler  sentiments  that  abound  in  this  long 
series  of  sonnets.     But   there  are   also   faults  of  a  merely 
critical  nature.     The  obscurity  is  often  such  as  only  conjec- 
ture can  penetrate  ;   the  strain   of  tenderness  and  adoration 
would  be  too  monotonous,  were  it  less  unpleasing;    and  so 
many  frigid  conceits  are   scattered  around,  that  we   might 
almost  fancy  the  poet  to  have  written  without  genuine  emo- 
tion, did  not  such  a  host  of  other  passages  attest  the  contrary. 

51.  The  sonnets  of  Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  the  most 
Sonnets  of   celebrated  in  that  class  of  poets,  have  obtained,  pro- 
Drummond  bably,  as  much  praise  as  they  deserve.1     But  they 

ier8'  are  polished  and  elegant,  free  from*  conceit  and  bad 
taste,  in  pure  unblemished  English :  some  are  pathetic  or 
tender  in  sentiment,  and,  if  they  do  not  show  much  originality, 
at  least  would  have  acquired  a  fair  place  among  the  Italians 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  Those  of  Daniel,  of  Drayton,  and  of 
Sir  William  Alexander,  afterwards  Earl  of  Stirling,  are  per- 
haps hardly  inferior.  Some  may  doubt,  however,  whether  the 
last  poet  should  be  placed  on  such  a  level.2  But  the  difficulty 

in  consequence  to  suppose  some  of  the  obtained ; "  which  seems  to  say  the  same 

earlier  sonnets  to  be  addressed  to  a  wo-  thing,  but  is  in   fact  different.     He  ob- 

man.  serves  that  Druminond  "  frequently  bor- 

Pembroke  succeeded  to  his  father  in  1601:  rows  and  sometimes  translates  from  the 

I  incline  to  think  that  the  sonnets  were  Italian  and  Spanish  poets.'' — Southey'a 

written  about  that  time,  some  probably  British  Poets,  p.  798.     The  furious  invec- 

earlier,  some  later.    That  they  were  the  tive    of   Gifford  against   Drummond    for 

same  as  Meres,  in  1598,   has  mentioned  having  written  private  memoranda  of  hia 

among  the  compositions  of  Shakspeare,  conversations  with  Ben  Jonson,  which  he 

"  his  sugred  sonnets  among  his  private  did  not  publish,  and  which,  for  aught  we 

friends,"  I  do  not  believe,  both  on  account  know,  were  perfectly  faithful,  is  absurd, 

of  the  date,  and  from  the  peculiarly  per-  Any  one  else  would  have  been  thankful 

sonal  allusions  they  contain.  for  so  much  literary  anecdote. 

[Much  has  been  written  lately  on  the  2  Lord  Stirling  is  rather  monotonous,  as 
subject  of  Shakspeare's  sonnets;  and  a  sonneteers  usually  are;  and  he  ad>l 
natural  reluctance  to  admit  any  failings  his  mistress  by  the  appellation,  ''  Fair 
in  such  a  man  has  led  some  to  fancy  that  tygress."  Campbell  observes  that  there 
his  mistress  was  no  other  than  his  wife,  is  elegance  of  expression  in  a  few  of  Stir- 
Ann  tlathaway.  and  others  to  conjecture  ling's  shorter  pieces.  —  Vol.  iv.  p.  206. 
that  he  lent  his  pen  to  the  amours  of  a  The  longest  poem  of  Stirling  is  entitled 
friend.  But  I  have  seen  no  ground  to  Domesday,  in  twelve  books,  or,  as  he  calls 
alter  uiy  own  view  of  the  case,  except  that  them,  hours.  It  is  written  in  the  Italian 
ji'Ksiblv  some  other  sonnets  may  have  octave  st-nr/.:i,  and  has  somewhat  of  the 
been  meant  by  Meres.  — 1842.]  condensed  styleof  the  philosophical  school, 
1  I  concur  in  this  with  Mr.  Campbell,  which  he  seems  to  have  imitated  j  but  hia 
iv.  343.  Mr.  Southey  thinks  Drummond  numbers  are  harsh 
'•  has  deserved  the  high  reputation  he  has 


CHAP.  V.  CAKFVY.  257 

of  finding  the  necessary  rhymes  in  our  language  has  caused 
most  who  have  attempted  the  sonnet  to  swerve  from  laws 
which  cannot  be  transgressed,  at  least  to  the  degree  they  have 
often  dared,  without  losing  the  unity  for  which  that  complex 
mechanism  was  contrived.  Certainly  three  quatrains  of  alter- 
nate rhymes,  succeeded  by  a  couplet,  which  Drummond,  like 
many  other  English  poets,  has  sometimes  given  us,  is  the 
very  worst  form  of  the  sonnet,  even  if,  in  deference  to  a  scanty 
number  of  Italian  precedents,  we  allow  it  to  pass  as  a  sonnet 
at  all.1  We  possess,  indeed,  noble  poetry  in  the  form  of  son- 
"net ;  yet  with  us  it  seems  more  fitted  for  grave  than  amatory 
composition :  in  the  latter  we  miss  the  facility  and  grace  of 
our  native  English  measures,  the  song,  the  madrigal,  or  the 
ballad. 

52.  Carew  is  the  most  celebrated  among  the  lighter  poets, 
though  no  collection  has  hitherto  embraced  his  entire 
writings.  Headley  has  said,  and  Ellis  echoes  the 
praise,  that  "  Carew  has  the  ease  without  the  pedantry  of 
Waller,  and  perhaps  less  conceit.  Waller  is  too  exclusively 
considered  as  the  first  man  who  brought  versification  to  any 
thing  like  its  present  standard.  Carew's  pretensions  to  the 
same  merit  are  seldom  sufficiently  either  considered  or 
allowed."  Yet,  in  point  of  versification,  others  of  the  same 
age  seem  to  have  surpassed  Carew,  whose  lines  are  often  very 
harmonious,  but  not  so  artfully  constructed  or  so  uniformly 
pleasing  as  those  of  Waller.  He  is  remarkably  unequal :  the 
best  of  his  little  poems  (none  of  more  than  thirty  lines  are 
good)  excel  all  of  his  time ;  but,  after  a  few  lines  of  great 
beauty,  we  often  come  to  some  ill-expressed  or  obscure  or 

1  The  legitimate  sonnet  consists  of  two  the  third  line,  will  make  a  real  sonnet, 

quatrains  and  two  tercets :  as  much  skill,  which  Shakspeare,  Milton.   Bowles,  and 

to  say  the  least,  is  required  for  the  ma-  Wordsworth  have  often  failed  to  give  us, 

nageinent  of  the  latter  as  of  the  former,  even  where  they  have  given  us  something 

The  rhymes  of  the  last  six  lines  are  capa-  good  instead. 

ble  of  many  arrangements  ;  but  by  iar  the        [The  common  form  of  the  Italian  sonnet 

worst,  and  alfo  the  least  common  in  Italy,  is  called  rima  chiusa;  where  the  rhymes 

is  that  we  usually  adopt,  —  the  fifth  and  of  the  two  quatrains  are  1,  4,  5,  8  —  2.  3, 

sixth  rhyming  together,  frequently  after  a  6,  7 ;  but  the  alternate  rhyme  sometimes, 

full  pause,  so  that  the  sonnet  ends  with  though  less  regularly,  occurs.    The  tercet* 

the  point  of  an  epigram.     The  best,  as  the  are  either  in  rima  incatenata,  or  rima  alter- 

Italians  hold,  is  the  rhyming  together  of  nala;  and  great  variety  is  found  in  these, 

the  three  uneven  and  the  three  even  lines ;  even  among  the  early  poets.     Quadrio  pre- 

out,  a*  our  language  is  less  rich  in  conso-  fers  the  order  a,  b,  a,  b,  a,  b,  where  there 

naut  terminations,  there  can  be  no  objec-  are  only  two  rhyming  terminations ;  but 

tion  to  what  has  abundant  precedents  even  does  not  object  to  a,  b,  c,  a,  b,  c  ;  or  even 

in  theirs, —  the  rhyming  of  the  first  and  a,  b,  c.  b,  a,  c.      The  couplet  termination 

fourth,  second  and  fifth,  third  and  sixth  he  entirely  condemns.      Quadrio,  Storia 

lines.    This,  with  a  break  in  the  sense  at  d?  ogni  Poesia,  iii.  25.  — 1842.] 

VOL.  lit.  17 


258  BEN  JONSON.  PART  111 

weak  or  inharmonious  passage.  Few  will  hesitate  to  acknow- 
ledge, that  he  has  more  fancy  and  more  tenderness  than  Wal- 
ler, but  less  choice,  less  judgment  and  knowledge  where  to 
stop,  less  of  the  equability  which  never  offends,  less  attention 
to  the  unity  and  thread  of  his  little  pieces.  I  should  hesitate  to 
give  him,  on  the  whole,  the  preference  as  a  poet,  taking  col- 
lectively the  attributes  of  that  character ;  for  we  must  not,  in 
such  a  comparison,  overlook  a  good  deal  of  very  inferior  merit 
which  may  be  found  in  the  short  volume  of  Carew's  poems. 
The  best  have  great  beauty ;  but  he  has  had,  in  late  criticism, 
his  full  share  of  applause.  Two  of  his  most  pleasing  little 
poems  appear  also  among  those  of  Herrick ;  and  as  Carew's 
were,  I  believe,  published  posthumously,  I  am  rather  inclined 
to  prefer  the  claim  of  the  other  poet,  independently  of  some 
internal  evidence  as  to  one  of  them.  In  all  ages,  these  very 
short  compositions  circulate  for  a  time  in  polished  society, 
while  mistakes  as  to  the  real  author  are  natural.1 

53.  The  minor  poetry  of  Ben  Jonson  is  extremely  beau- 
tiful.    This  is   partly  mixed  with  his  masques  and 

Ben  Jonson.  .,,  •      i         «  •      •,         , 

interludes,  poetical  and  musical  rather  than  dramatic 
pieces,  and  intended  to  gratify  the  imagination  by  the  charms 
of  song,  as  well  as  by  the  varied  scenes  that  were  brought 
before  the  eye ;  partly  in  very  short  effusions  of  a  single  sen- 
timent, among  which  two  epitaphs  are  known  by  heart.  Jon- 
son possessed  an  admirable  taste  and  feeling  in  poetry,  which 
his  dramas,  except  the  Sad  Shepherd,  do  not  entirely  lead  us 
to  value  highly  enough ;  and,  when  we  consider  how  many 
other  intellectual  excellences  distinguished  him,  —  wit,  obser- 
vation, judgment,  memory,  learning,  —  we  must  acknowledge 
that  the  inscription  on  his  tomb,  "  O  rare  Ben  Jonson ! "  is 
not  more  pithy  than  it  is  true. 

1  One  of  these  poems  begins,  —  the  other  variations  are  for  the  worse.  I 

"  Amongst  the  myrtles  as  I  walk'd  must  leave  i(:  in  doubt  wn«t!jer  he  bor- 

Love  and  my  sighs  thus  intertalk'd."  rowed,  and  disfigured  a  little,  or  was  him- 

„  .  .  .  .  self  improved  upon.  I  must  own  that  he 

Hernck  wants  four  good  lines  which  are  nas  a  trick  of  sp(,iiing  what  he  takes. 

?t  Va?W.i  a°?l?8  •   ,Cy  ar,V^  T'  m,T  Suckling  has  an  incomparable  image  on  » 

likely  to  have  been  interpolated  than  left  in-iy  dancine  •  — 
out,  this  leads  to  a  sort  of  inference  that 

he  was  the  original :    there  are  also  some  "  Her  feet  beneath  the  petticoat, 

ether  petty  improvements.     The  second  Like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out, 

poem  is  that  beginning,  —  As  if  they  feared  the  light  " 

"  Ask  me  why  I  send  you  here  Herrick  has  it  thus :  — 

This  firstling  of  the  infant  year."  .     r    t   ,.,  .,     ... 

'*  Her  pretty  feet,  like  snails,  did  creep 
H«rrick  gives  the  second  line  strangely,  A  little  out ;  " 

•'  This  sweet  infanta  of  the  year,"  a  most  ^^^  parallel  for  ^  elejpult 

tbfch  is  little  else  than  nonsense  ;  and  all    dancer. 


CHAP.  V.          WITHEB  -  HABIXGTON  —  SUCKLING-  259 

54.  George  "Wither,  by  siding  with  the  less  poetical  though 
more  prosperous  party  in  the  civil  war,  and  by  a 
profusion  of  temporary  writings  to  serve  the  ends  of 
faction  and  folly,  has  left  a  name  which  we  were  accustomed 
to  despise,  till  Ellis  did  justice  to  "  that  playful  fancy,  pure 
taste,  and  artless  delicacy  of  sentiment,  which  distinguish  the 
poetry  of  his  early  youth."  His  best  poems  were  published 
in  1622.  with  the  title,  Mistress  of  Philarete.  Some  of  them 
are  highly  beautiful,  and  bespeak  a  mind  above  the  grovelling 
Puritanism  into  which  he  afterwards  fell.  I  think  there  is 
hardly  any  thing  in  our  lyric  poetry  of  this  period  equal  to 
Wither's  lines  on  his  Muse,  published  by  Ellis.1 

oo.  The  poetry  of  Habington  is  that  of  a  pure  and  amiable 
mind,  turned  to  versification  by  the  custom  of  the 
age,  during  a  real  passion  for  a  lady  of  birth  and 
virtue,  the  Castara  whom  he  afterwards  married  ;  but  it  dis- 
plays no  great  original  power,  nor  is  it  by  any  means  exempt 
from  the  ordinary  blemishes  of  hyperbolical  compliment  and 
far-fetched  imagery.  The  poems  of  William,  Earl  Eariof 
of  Pembroke,  long  known  by  the  character  drawn  for  Pembroke- 
him  by  Clarendon,  and  now  as  the  object  of  Shakspeare's 
doting  friendship,  were  ushered  into  the  world  after  his  death, 
with  a  letter  of  extravagant  flattery  addressed  by  Donne  to 
Christiana,  Countess  of  Devonshire.2  But  there  is  little  reli- 
ance to  be  placed  on  the  freedom  from  interpolation  of  these 
posthumous  editions.  Among  these  poems  attributed  to  Lord 
Pembroke,  we  find  one  of  the  best  known  of  Carew's  ;  3  and 
even  the  famous  lines  addressed  to  the  Soul,  which  some  have 
given  to  Silvester.  The  poems,  in  general,  are  of  little 
merit;  some  .are  grossly  indecent  ;  nor  would  they  be  men- 
tioned here  except  for  the  interest  recently  attached  to  the 
author's  name.  But  they  throw  no  light  whatever  on  the 
sonnets  of  Shakspeare. 

56.  Sir  John  Suckling  is  acknowledged  to  have  left  far 
behind   him   all   former   writers  of  song  in  gayety  0 

*      Sucklintr 

and  ease  :   it  is  not  equally  clear  that  he  has  ever 

since  been  surpassed.     His  poetry  aims  at  no  higher  praise  : 

he  shows  no  sentiment  or  imagination,  either  because  he  had 

1  Ellis'g    Specimens  of    Early  English    of  earlier  date.    The  Countess  of  Deron- 
Poete.  iii.  96.  shire  is  not  called  dowager  :   her  husband 

1  The  only  edition  that  I  hare  seen,  or    died  in  1643. 


1631,  1  COUCWVB  that  there  must  be  one 


260  LOVELACE  — HERRICK.  PART  III. 

them  not,  or  because  he  did  not  require  either  in  the  style  he 
chose.  Perhaps  the  Italians  may  have  poetry  in  that  style 
equal  to  Suckling's ;  I  do  not  knoAV  that  they  have,  nor  do  I 
believe  that  there  is  any  in  French :  that  there  is  none  in 
Lovelace  Latin  I  am  convinced.1  Lovelace  is  chiefly  known 
by  a  single  song :  his  other  poetry  is  much  inferior ; 
and  indeed  it  may  be  generally  remarked,  that  the  flowers  of 
our  early  verse,  both  in  the  Elizabethan  and  the  subsequent 
age,  have  been  well  culled  by  good  taste  and  a  friendly  spirit 
of  selection.  We  must  not  judge  of  them,  or  shall  judge  of 
them  very  favorably,  by  the  extracts  of  Headley  or  Ellis. 

57.  The  most  amorous  and  among  the  best  of  our  amorous 
H  rn  k  Poets  was  Robert  Herrick,  a  clergyman  ejected  from 
his  living  in  Devonshire  by  the  Long  Parliament, 
whose  "  Hesperides,  or  Poems  Human  and  Divine,"  were 
published  in  1648.  Herrick's  divine  poems  are,  of  course, 
euch  as  might  be  presumed  by  their  title  and  by  his  calling ; 
of  his  human,  which  are  poetically  much  superior,  and  proba- 
bly written  in  early  life,  the  greater  portion  is  light  and 
voluptuous,  while  some  border  on  the  licentious  and  indecent. 
A  selection  was  published  in  1815,  by  which,  as  commonly 
happens,  the  poetical  fame  of  Herrick  does  not  suffer:  a 
number  of  dull  epigrams  are  omitted ;  and  the  editor  has  a 
manifest  preference  for  what  must  be  owned  to  be  the  most 
elegant  and  attractive  part  of  his  author's  rhymes.  He  has 
much  of  the  lively  grace  that  distinguishes  Anacreon  and 
Catullus,  and  approaches  also,  with  a  less  cloying  monotony, 
to  the  Basia  of  Johannes  Secundus.  Herrick  has  as  much 
variety  as  the  poetry  of  kisses  can  well  have ;  but  his  love  is 
in  a  very  slight  degree  that  of  sentiment,  or  even  any  intense 
passion :  his  mistresses  have  little  to  recommend  them,  even 
in  his  own  eyes,  save  their  beauties ;  and  none  of  these  are 
omitted  in  his  catalogues.  Yet  he  is  abundant  in  the  re- 
sources of  verse  :  without  the  exuberant  gayety  of  Suckling, 
or  perhaps  the  delicacy  of  Carew,  he  is  sportive,  fanciful,  and 
generally  of  polished  language.  The  faults  of  his  age  are 
sometimes  apparent :  though  he  is  not  often  obscure,  he  runs, 
more  perhaps  for  the  sake  of  variety  than  any  other  cause, 
into  occasional  pedantry.  He  has  his  conceits  and  false 
thoughts  ;  but  these  are  more  than  redeemed  by  the  numerous 

1  Suckling's  Epitluilamiuiii,  though  not    world,  and  is  a  matchless  piece  of  UrelineM 
written   for  those  "  qui  niusas  colitis  se-    and  facility, 
veriores,"  1m  bceu  read  by  almost  all  tlio 


CHAP.  V.  MILTON.  261 

very  little  poems  (for  those  of  Herrick  are  frequently  not 
longer  than  epigrams),  which  may  be  praised  without  much 
more  qualification  than  belong?  to  such  poetry. 

58.  John  Milton  was  born  in  1609.     Few  are  ignorant  of 
hi?  life,  in  recovering  and  recording  every  circum- 
stance  of  which  no  diligence  has  been  spared,  nor 

has  it  often  been  unsuccessful.  Of  his  Latin  poetry,  some  was 
written  at  the  age  of  seventeen ;  in  English,  we  have  nothing, 
I  believe,  the  date  of  which  is  known  to  be  earlier  than  the 
sonnet  on  entering  his  twenty -third  year.  In  1634  he  wrote 
Comus,  which  was  published  in  1637.  Lycidas  was  written 
in  the  latter  year;  and  most  of  his  shorter  pieces  soon  after- 
wards, except  the  sonnets,  some  of  which  do  not  come  within 
the  first  half  of  the  century. 

59.  Comus  was  sufficient  to  convince  any  one  of  taste  and 
feeling,  that  a  great  poet  had  arisen  in  England,  and  „ 

,.       -    ,  .   r      ,.„.  ,       i   /•_         i_-  BGs  Comus. 

one  partly  formed  in  a  different  school  from  bis  con- 
temporaries. Many  of  them  had  produced  highly  beautiful 
and  imaginative  passages ;  but  none  had  evinced  so  classical 
a  judgment,  none  had  aspired  to  so  regular  a  perfection. 
Jonson  had  learned  much  from  the  ancients ;  but  there  was 
a  grace  in  their  best  models  which  he  did  not  quite  attain. 
Xfither  his  Sad  Shepherd  nor  the  Faithful  Shepherdess  of 
Fletcher  have  the  elegance  or  dignity  of  Comus.  A  noble 
virgin  and  her  young  brothers,  by  whom  this  masque  was  ori- 
ginally represented,  required  an  elevation,  a  purity,  a  sort  of 
severity  of  sentiment,  which  no  one  in  that  age  could  have 
given  but  Milton.  He  avoided,  and  nothing  loath,  the  more 
festive  notes  which  dramatic  poetry  was  wont  to  mingle  with 
its  serious  strain.  But  for  this  he  compensated  by  the  bright- 
est hues  of  fancy  and  the  sweetest  melody  of  song.  In  Comus 
we  find  nothing  prosaic  or  feeble,  no  false  taste  in  the  in 
cidents,  and  not  much  in  the  language ;  nothing  over  which 
we  should  desire  to  pass  on  a  second  perusal.  The  want  of 
what  we  may  call  personality,  —  none  of  the  characters  hav- 
ing names,  except  Comus  himself,  who  is  a  very  indefinite 
being,  —  and  the  absence  of  all  positive  attributes  of  time 
and  place,  enhance  the  ideality  of  the  fiction  by  a  certain 
indistinctness  not  unpleasing  to  the  imagination. 

60.  It  has  been  said,  I  think  very  fairly,  that  Lycidas  is  a 
good  test  of  a  real  feeling  for  what  is  peculiarly  T 

J     Lycida*. 

called  poetry.      Many,  or,  perhaps  we   might   say, 


262  MILTON.  PART  HL 

most  readers  do  not  taste  its  excellence ;  nor  does  it  follow 
that  they  may  not  greatly  admire  Pope  and  Dryden,  or 
even  Virgil  and  Homer.  It  is,  however,  somewhat  remarka- 
ble that  Johnson,  who  has  committed  his  critical  reputation 
by  the  most  contemptuous  depreciation  of  this  poem,  had,  in 
an  earlier  part  of  his  life,  selected  the  tenth  eclogue  of  Vir- 
gil for  peculiar  praise,1  —  the  tenth  eclogue,  which,  beautiful 
as  it  is,  belongs  to  the  same  class  of  pastoral  and  personal 
allegory,  and  requires  the  same  sacrifice  of  reasoning  criti- 
cs«m,  as  the  Lycidas  itself.  In  the  age  of  Milton,  the  po- 
etical world  had  been  accustomed  by  the  Italian  and  Spanish 
writers  to  a  more  abundant  use  of  allegory  than  has  been 
pleasing  to  their  posterity ;  but  Lycidas  is  not  so  much  in 
tne  nature  of  an  allegory  as  of  a  masque:  the  characters 
pass  before  our  eyes  in  imagination,  as  on  the  stage ;  they 
are  chiefly  mythological,  but  not  creations  of  the  poet.  Our 
sympathy  with  the  fate  of  Lycidas  may  not  be  much  stronger 
than  for  the  desertion  of  Gallus  by  bis  mistress ;  but  many 
poems  will  yield  an  exquisite  pleasure  to  the  imagination  that 
produce  no  emotion  in  the  heart,  or  none  at  least  except 
through  associations  independent  of  the  subject. 

61.  The  introduction  of  St.  Peter,  after  the  fabulous  deities 
of  the  sea,  has  appeared  an  incongruity  deserving  of  censure 
to  some  admirers  of  this  poem.  It  would  be  very  reluctantly 
that  we  could  abandon  to  this  criticism  the  most  splendid 
passage  it  presents.  But  the  censure  rests,  as  I  think,  on 
too  narrow  a  principle.  In  narrative  or  dramatic  poetry, 
where  something  like  illusion  or  momentary  belief  is  to  be 
produced,  the  mind  requires  an  objective  possibility,  a  capa- 
city of  real  existence,  not  only  in  all  the  separate  portions 
of  the  imagined  story,  but  in  their  coherency  and  relation  to 
a  common  whole.  Whatever  is  obviously  incongruous,  what- 
ever shocks  our  previous  knowledge  of  possibility,  destroys, 
to  a  certain  extent,  that  acquiescence  in  the  fiction,  which 
it  is  the  true  business  of  the  fiction  to  produce.  But  the 
case  is  not  the  same  in  such  poems  as  Lycidas.  They  pre- 
tend to  no  credibility ;  they  aim  at  no  illusion  :  they  are  read 
with  the  willing  abandonment  of  the  imagination  to  a  waking 
dream,  and  require  only  that  general  possibility,  that  com- 
bination of  images  which  common  experience  does  not  reject 
as  incompatible,  without  which  the  fancy  of  the  poet  would 

*  Adventurer,  No.  92. 


CHAP.  V.  MILTON.  263 

be  only  like  that  of  the  lunatic.  And  it  had  been  so  usual 
to  blend  sacred  with  mythological  personages  in  allegory, 
that  no  one  probably  in  Milton's  age  would  have  been  struck 
by  the  objection. 

62.  The  Allegro  and  Penseroso  are  perhaps   more    fami- 
liar to  us  than  any  part  of  the  writings  of  Milton.    Allegro  and 
They  satisfy  the  critics,  and  they  delight  mankind.    Pensero8°- 
The  choice  of  images  is  so  judicious,  their  succession  so  rapid, 
the  allusions  are  so  various  and  pleasing,  the  leading  distinc- 
tion  of  the  poems  is  so  felicitously  maintained,  the  versifi- 
cation is  so  animated,  that  we  may  place  them  at  the  head 
of  that  long  series  of  descriptive  poems  which  our  language 
has    to  boast.     It  may  be  added,  as  in  the  greater  part  of 
Milton's  writings,  that  they  are  sustained  at  an  uniform  pitch, 
with  few  blemishes  of  expression,  and  scarce  any  feebleness ; 
a  striking  contrast,  in  this  respect,  to   all    the   contempora- 
neous poetry,  except  perhaps  that  of  Waller.     Johnson  has 
thought,  that,  while  there  is  no  mirth  in  his  melancholy,  he 
can  detect  some  melancholy  in  his  mirth.     This  seems  to  be 
too  strongly  put ;  but  it  may  be  said  that  his  Allegro  is  rather 
cheerful  than  gay,  and  that  even  his  cheerfulness  is  not  always 
without  effort.     In  these  poems  he  is  indebted  to  Fletcher,  to 
Burton,  to  Browne,  to  Wither,  and  probably  to  more  of  our 
early  versifiers ;   for  he  was  a  great  collector  of  sweets  from 
those  wild  flowers. 

63.  The  Ode  on  the  Nativity,  far  less  popular  than  most  of 
the  poetry  of  Milton,  is  perhaps  the  finest  in  the   ode  on  the 
English    language.      A    grandeur,   a    simplicity,   a  Natmty- 
breadth  of  manner,  an  imagination  at  once  elevated  and  re- 
strained by  the  subject,  reign  throughout  it.     If  Pindar  is  a 
model  of  lyric  poetry,  it  would  be  hard  to  name  any  other  ode 
so  truly  Pindaric ;  but  more  has  naturally  been  derived  from 
the  Scriptures.     Of  the  other  short  poems,  that  on  the  death 
of  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester  deserves  particular  men- 
tion.    It  is  pity  that  the  first  lines  are  bad,  and  the  last  much 
worse ;  for  rarely  can  we  find  more  feeling  or  beauty  than  in 
some  other  passages. 

64.  The  sonnets  of  Milton  have  obtained  of  late  years  the 
admiration  of  all  real  lovers  of  poetry.     Johnson   ma  ^^^^ 
has  been  as  impotent  to  fix  the  public  taste  in  this 
instance  as  in  his  other  criticisms  on  the  smaller  poems  of  the 
author  of  Paradise  Lost.     These  sonnet*  are  indeed  unequal ; 


264  LATIN  POETS  OF  FRANCE.  PART  IIL 

the  expression  is  sometimes  harsh,  and  sometimes  obscure; 
sometimes  too  much  of  pedantic  allusion  interferes  with  the 
sentiment ;  nor  am  I  reconciled  to  his  frequent  deviations  from 
the  best  Italian  structure.  But  such  blemishes  are  lost  in  the 
majestic  simplicity,  the  holy  calm,  that  ennoble  many  of  these 
short  compositions. 

65.  Many  anonymous  songs,  many  popular  lays,  both  of 
inony-        Scottish  and  P^nglish  minstrelsy,  were  poured  forth 
nous          in  this  period  of  the  seventeenth  century.     Those  of 
oetry>        Scotland  became,  after  the  union  of  the  crowns,  and 
he  consequent  cessation  of  rude  border  frays,  less  warlike 
han  before :    they  are  still,  however,  imaginative,  pathetic, 
and  natural.     It  is  probable  that  the  best  even  of  this  class 
are  a  little  older;  but  their  date  is  seldom  determinable  with 
much  precision.     The  same  may  be  said  of  the  English  bal- 
lads, which,  so  far  as  of  a  merely  popular  nature,  appear,  by 
their  style  and  other  circumstances,  to  belong  more  frequently 
to  the  reign  of  James  I.  than  any  other  period. 


SECT.  VI.  —  ON  LATIN  POETRY. 

Latin  Poets  of  France  and  other  Countries  —  Of  England— May— Milton. 

66.  FRANCE,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
had  been  remarkably  fruitful  of  Latin  poetry :  it  was 
poets  of       the   pride  of  her   scholars,  and   sometimes   of  her 

France.  T       ,  . 

statesmen.  In  the  age  that  we  have  now  m  review, 
we  do  not  find  so  many  conspicuous  names ;  but  the  custom 
of  academical  institutions,  and  especially  of  the  seminaries  con- 
ducted by  the  Jesuits,  kept  up  a  facility  of  Latin  versification, 
which  it  was  by  no  means  held  pedantic  or  ridiculous  to 
exhibit  in  riper  years.  The  French  enumerate  several  with 
praise:  Guijon;  Bourbon  (Borbonius),  whom  some  have  com- 
pared with  the  best  of  the  preceding  century,  and  among 
whose  poems  that  on  the  death  of  Henry  IV.  is  reckoned  the 
best ;  Cerisantes,  equal,  as  some  of  his  admirers  think,  to  Sar- 
bievius,  and  superior,  as  others  presume,  to  Horace ;  and 
Petavius,  who,  having  solaced  his  leisure  hours  with  Greek 


CHAP  V.  GERMAXT  -  ITALY  — HOLLAXD.  265 

and  Hebrew,  as  well  as  Latin  versification,  has  obtained  in  the 
la.-t  the  general  suffrage  of  critics.1  I  can  speak  of  none  of 
these  from  direct  knowledge,  except  of  Borbonius,  whose  Dirae 
on  the  death  of  Henry  have  not  appeared,  to  my  judgment, 
deserving  of  so  much  eulogy. 

67.  The  Germans  wrote  much  in  Latin,  especially  in  the 
earlier  decades  of  this  period.     Melissus  Schedius,  in  Germany 
not  undistinguished  in  his  native  tongue,  might  have  and  Itajv- 
been  mentioned  as  a  Latin  poet  in  the  last  volume ;  since  most 
of  his  compositions  were  published  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
In  Italy  we  have  not  many  conspicuous  names.     The   bad 
taste  that  infested  the  school  of  Marini  spread  also,  according 
to  Tiraboschi,  over  Latin  poetry.     Martial,  Lucan,  and  Clau- 
dian  became  in  their  eyes  better  models  than  Catullus  and 
Virgil.     Baillet,  or  rather  those  whom  he  copies,  and  among 
whom  Rossi  (author  of  the  Pinacotheca  Virorum  Illustrium, 
under  the  name  of  Erythraeus,  a  profuse  and  indiscriminating 
panegyrist,  for  the  most  part,  of  his  contemporaries)  furnishes 
the  chief  materials,  bestows  praise  on  Cesarini,  on  Querenghi, 
whom  even  Tiraboschi  selects  from  the  crowd,  and  on  Maffei 
Barberini,  best  known  as  Pope  Urban  V1H. 

68.  Holland  stood  at  the  head  of  Europe  in  this  line  of 
poetry.     Grotius  has  had  the  reputation  of  writing  jn  Holland: 
with  spirit,  elegance,  and  imagination.2     But  he  is  Helnsius- 
excelled  by  Heinsius,  whose  elegies,  still  more  than  his  hex- 
ameters, may  be  ranked  high  in  modern  Latin.      The  habit, 
however,  of  classical  imitation,  has  so  much  weakened  all  in 
dividual  originality  in  these  versifiers,  that  it  is  often  difficult 
to  distinguish  them,  or  to  pronounce  of  any  twenty  lines  that 
they  might  not  have  been  written  by  some  other   author. 
Compare,  for  example,  the  elegies  of  Buchanan  with  those  of 
Heinsius,  wherever  there  are  no  proper  names  to  guide  us. 

1  Baillet,  Jngemens  des  Scavans,  has  canan  a  des  odes  dignes  de  1'antiquite 
criticised  all  these  and  several  more.  Ra-  mais  il  a  de  grandes  inegalites  par  le  me- 
pin's  opinion  on  Latin  poetry  is  entitled  to  lange  de  son  caractere  qui  n'est  pas  assea 
much  regard  from  his  own  excellence  in  uni." —  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  208. 
it.  He  praises  three  lyrists,  —  Casimir,  *  [The  Adamus  Exul  of  Grotius,  which, 
Magdelenet,  and  Cerisantes :  the  two  lat-  after  going  through  several  editions  in 
ter  being  French.  ';  Sarbieuski  a  de  1'ete-  Holland  before  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
ration,  mais  sans  purete  ;  Magdelenet  est  teenth  century,  has  lately  been  retrans- 
pur,  mais  sans  elevation.  Cerisantes  a  lated  by  Mr.  Barham,  is  not  only  of  con- 
joint dans  ses  odes  1'un  et  1'autre :  car  il  siderable  poetical  merit,  but  deserving  of 
ecrit  noblement,  et  d'un  style  assez  pur.  notice,  as  having  suggested  much  to  Mil 
Apres  tout,  il  n'a  pa.*  tant  defeuqueCasi-  ton.  Lauder  perceived  this,  but  was 
mir.  lequel  avoit  bien  de  1'esprit,  et  de  cet  strangely  led  to  exaggerate  the 
esprit  heureux  qui  fait  lee  poetes.  Bn-  blance  by  forgery.  — 1847.] 


266  SARBIEVTCS.  PART  IIL 

A  more  finished  and  continued  elegance  belongs,  on  the  whole 
(as  at  least  I  should  say),  to  the  latter:  but,  in  a  short  passage, 
this  may  not  be  perceptible ;  and  I  believe  few  would  guess 
with  much  confidence  between  the  two.  Heinsius,  however, 
like  most  of  the  Dutch,  is  remarkably  fond  of  a  polysyllabic 
close  in  the  pentameter ;  at  least  in  his  Juvenilia,  which,,  not- 
withstanding their  title,  ai'e  perhaps  better  than  his  later  pro- 
ductions. As  it  is  not  necessary  to  make  a  distinct  head  for 
the  Latin  drama,  we  may  here  advert  to  a  tragedy  by  Hein- 
sius, Herodes  Infanticida.  This  has  been  the  subject  of  a 
ciitique  by  Balzac,  for  the  most  part  very  favorable;  and  it 
certainly  contains  some  highly  beautiful  passages.  Perhaps 
the  description  of  the  Virgin's  feelings  on  the  nativity,  though 
praised  by  Balzac,  and  exquisitely  classical  in  diction,  is  not 
quite  in  the  best  taste.1 

69.  Sidonius  Hoschius,  a  Flemish  Jesuit,  is  extolled  by 
Baillet  and  his  authorities.  But  another  of  the 
same  order,  Casimir  Sarbievius,  a  Pole,  is  far  better 
known ;  and  in  lyric  poetry,  which  he  almost  exclu- 
sively cultivated,  obtained  a  much  higher  reputation.  He  had 
lived  some  years  at  Rome,  and  is  full  of  Roman  allusion.  He 
had  read  Horace,  as  Sannazarius  had  Virgil,  and  Heinsius 
Ovid,  till  the  style  and  tone  became  spontaneous ;  but  he  has 
more  of  centonism  than  the  other  two.  Yet,  while  he  con- 
stantly reminds  us  of  Horace,  it  is  with  as  constant  an  inferi- 
ority :  we  feel  that  his  Rome  was  not  the  same  Rome ;  that 
Urban  VII].  was  not  Augustus,  nor  the  Polish  victories  on 
the  Danube  like  those  of  the  sons  of  Livia.  Hence  his  flat- 
tery of  the  great,  though  not  a  step  beyond  that  of  his  master, 
seems  rather  more  displeasing,  because  we  have  it  only  on  his 
word  that  they  were  truly  great.  Sarbievius  seldom  rises 
high  or  pours  out  an  original  feeling ;  but  he  is  free  from  con- 
ceits, never  becomes  prosaic,  and  knows  how  to  put  in  good 

1  "  Oculosqne  nunc  hue  pavida  nunc  Laudemque  matris  Virginia  irinien 

illuc  jacit,  putat." 

Interque  matron  Tirginemque  has-  A  critique  on  the  poems  of  Heinsius 

rent  adhuc  will  be  found  in  the  Retrospective  Review. 

Suspensa  matris  gaudia,  ac  trepidus  vol.  i.  p.  49  ;    but   notwithstanding  the 

pudor.  laudatory  spirit,  which  is  for  the  most 

....  saepe,  cum  blandas  puer,  part  too  indiscriminating  in  that  publk-a- 

Aut  a  eopore  languidas  jactat  ma-  tion,  the  reviewer  has  not  done  justice  to 

nus,  Heinsius,  and  hardly  seems,  perhaps,  a 

Tenerisque  labris  pectus  intactum  very  competent  judge    of   Latin    verse. 

petit,  The  suffrages  of  those  who  were  BO,  in 

Virginea  subitus  ora  perfundit  ru-  favor  of  this  Batavian  poet,  are  collected 

bor,  by  Baillet,  n.  1482. 


CHAT.  V.  BAEL^US.  267 

language  the  commonplaces  with  which  his  subject  happens  to 
furnish  him.  He  is  to  a  certain  degree,  in  Latin  poetry,  what 
Chiabrera  is  in  Italian,  but  does  not  deserve  so  high  a  place. 
Sarbievius  was  perhaps  the  first  who  succeeded  much  in  the 
Alcaic  stanza,  which  the  earlier  poets  seem  to  avoid,  or  to  use 
unskilfully.  But  he  has  many  unwarrantable  licenses  in  his 
metre,  and  even  false  quantities,  as  is  common  to  the  great 
majority  of  these  Latin  versifiers. 

70.  Gasper  Barlaeus  had  as  high  a  name,  perhaps,  as  any- 
Latin  poet  of  this  age.     His  rhythm  is  indeed  excel- 

•f  i  •  i  -r  t  Barlaeus. 

lent ;  but,  it  he  ever  rises  to  other  excellence,  1  have 
not  lighted  on  the  passages.  A  greater  equality  I  have  never 
found  than  in  Barlaeus :  nothing  is  bad,  nothing  is  striking. 
It  was  the  practice  with  Dutchmen  on  their  marriage  to  pur- 
chase epithalamiums  in  hexameter  verse ;  and  the  muse  of 
Barlaeus  was  in  request.  These  nuptial  songs  are  of  course 
about  Peleus  and  Thetis,  or  similar  personages,  interspersed 
with  fitting  praises  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  Such  poetry 
is  not  likely  to  rise  high.  The  epicedia,  or  funeral  lamenta- 
tions, paid  for  by  the  heir,  are  little,  if  at  all,  better  than  the 
epithcdamia ;  and  the  panegyrical  effusions  on  public  or  pri- 
vate events  rather  worse.  The  elegies  of  Barlaeus,  as  we 
generally  find,  are  superior  to  the  hexameters :  he  has  here 
the  same  smoothness  of  versification,  and  a  graceful  gayety 
which  gives  us  pleasure.  In  some  of  his  elegies  and  epistles, 
he  counterfeits  the  Ovidian  style  extremely  well,  so  that  they 
might  pass  for  those  of  his  model.  Still  there  is  an  equabili- 
ty, a  recurrence  of  trivial  thoughts  and  forms,  which,  in  truth, 
is  too  much  characteristic  of  modern  Latin  to  be  a  reproach  to 
Barlaeus.  He  uses  the  polysyllabic  termination  less  than 
earlier  Dutch  poets.  One  of  the  epithalamia  of  Baiiaeus,  it 
may  be  observed  before  we  leave  him,  is  entitled  Paradisus, 
and  recounts  the  nuptials  of  Adam  and  Eve.  It  is  possible 
that  Milton  may  have  seen  this :  the  fourth  book  of  the  Para- 
dise Lost  compresses  the  excessive  diflfuseness  of  Barlaeus ;  but 
the  ideas  are  in  great  measure  the  same.  Yet,  since  this  must 
naturally  be  the  case,  we  cannot  presume  imitation.  Few 
of  the  poems  of  Barlaeus  are  so  redundant  as  this :  he  has  the 
gift  of  stringing  together  mythological  parallels  and  descrip- 
tive poetry  without  stint;  and  his  discretion  does  not  inform 
him  where  to  stop. 

71.  The  eight  books  of  Sylvae  by  Balde,  a  German  eccle- 


268  LATIN  POETS  :  JONSTON  — ALABASTER.      PART  HI. 

elastic,  are  extolled  by  Baillet  and  Bouterwek  far  above  their 
Baide  value :  the  odes  are  tumid  and  unclassical ;  yet 
Greek  poem  some  have  called  him  equal  to  Horace.  Heinsius 
liu*-  tried  his  skill  in  Greek  verse.  His  Peplus  Graeco- 
rum  Epigrammatum  was  published  in  1613.  These  are  what 
our  schoolboys  would  call  very  indifferent  in  point  of  elegance, 
and,  as  I  should  conceive,  of  accuracy :  articles  and  expletives 
(as  they  used  to  be  happily  called)  are  perpetually  employed 
for  the  sake  of  the  metre,  not  of  the  sense. 

72.  Scotland  might  perhaps  contend  with  Holland  in  this 

as  well  as  in  the  preceding  age.  In  the  Deliciae 
of  Scotland.  Poetarum  Scotorum,  published  in  1637  by  Arthur 
Psalms'1'8  J°nston>  we  find  about  an  equal  produce  of  each  cen- 
tury ;  the  whole  number  being  thirty-seven.  Those 
of  Jonston  himself,  and  some  elegies  by  Scot  of  Scotstarvet, 
are  among  the  best.  The  Scots  certainly  wrote  Latin  with  a 
good  ear,  and  considerable  elegance  of  phrase.  A  sort  of 
critical  controversy  was  carried  on  in  the  last  century  as 
to  the  versions  of  the  Psalms  by  Buchanan  and  Jonston. 
Though  the  national  honor  may  seem  equally  secure  by 
the  superiority  of  either,  it  has,  I  believe,  been  usual  in 
Scotland  to  maintain  the  older  poet  against  all  the  world.  I 
am  nevertheless  inclined  to  think,  that  Jonston's  Psalms,  all 
of  which  are  in  elegiac  metre,  do  not  fall  short  of  those  of 
Buchanan,  either  in  elegance  of  style  or  in  correctness  of  La- 
tinity.  In  the  137th,  with  which  Buchanan  has  taken  much 
pains,  he  may  be  allowed  the  preference,  but  not  at  a  great 
interval ;  and  he  has  attained  this  superiority  by  too  much 
diffuseness.  ' 

73.  Nothing  good,  and  hardly  tolerable,  in  a  poetical  sense, 
Owen's        had  appeared  in  Latin  verse  among  ourselves  till 
epigrams.     tj^g  p^Q^     Owen's  epigrams  (Audoeni  Epigram- 
mata),  a  well-known  collection,  were  published  in  1607:  un- 
equal enough,  they  are  sometimes  neat,  and  more  often  witty ; 
Alabaster's  Dut  they  scarcely  aspire  to  the  name  of  poetry.    Ala- 
uoxana.      baster,  a  man  of  recondite  Hebrew  learning,  pub- 
lished in  1632  his  tragedy  of  Roxana,  which,  as  he  tells  us, 
was  written  about  forty  years  before  for  one  night's  represen- 
tation, probably  at  college,  but  had  been  lately  printed  by 
some  plagiary  as  his  own.     He  forgets,  however,  to  inform 
the  reader,  and  thus  lays  himself  open  to  some  recrimination, 
that  his  tragedy  is  very  largely  borrowed  from  the  Dalida  of 


CHAP.  7.  MAY -MILTON.  269 

Groto,  an  Italian  dramatist  of  the  sixteenth  century.1  The 
story,  the  characters,  the  incidents,  almost  every  successive 
scene,  many  thoughts,  descriptions,  and  images,  are  taken 
from  this  original ;  but  it  is  a  very  free  translation,  or  rather 
differs  from  what  can  be  called  a  translation.  The  tragedy 
of  Groto  is  shortened ;  and  Alabaster  has  thrown  much  into 
another  form,  besides  introducing  much  of  his  own.  The  plot 
is  full  of  all  the  accumulated  horror  and  slaughter  in  which  the 
Italians  delighted  on  their  stage.  I  rather  prefer  the  original 
tragedy.  Alabaster  has  spirit  and  fire,  with  some  degree  of 
skifl :  "but  his  notion  of  tragic  style  is  of  the  "  King  Cambyses' 
vein  : "  he  is  inflated  and  hyperbolical  to  excess,  which  is  not 
the  case  with  Groto. 

74.  But  the  first  Latin  poetry  which  England  can  vaunt  is 
May's  Supplement  to  Lucan,  in  seven  books,  which   j^^p. 
carry  down    the    history  of  the  Pharsalia   to  the   pieinentto 
death  of  Cresar.     This  is  not  only  a  very  spirited   l 
poem,  but,  in  many  places  at  least,  an   excellent  imitation. 
The  versification,   though   it   frequently  reminds   us  of  his 
model,  is  somewhat  more  negligent.     May  seems  rarely  to 
fall  into  Lucan's  tumid  extravagances,  or  to  emulate  his  phi 
losophical  grandeur  :  but  the  narration  is  almost  as  impetuous 
and  rapid,  the  images  as  thronged ;  and  sometimes  we  have 
rather  a  happy  imitation  of  the  ingenious  sophisms  Lucan  is 
apt  to  employ.     The  death  of  Cato  and  that  of  Cresar  are 
among  the  passages  well  worthy  of  praise.     In  some  hues 
on  Cleopatra's  intrigue  with   Csesar,   while  married  to  hei 
brother,  he  has  seized,  with  felicitous   effect,  not  only  the 
broken  cadences,  but  the  love  of  moral  paradox,  we  find  in 
Lucan.2 

75.  Many  of  the  Latin  poems  of  Milton  were  written  in 
early  life  ;  some  even  at  the  age  of  seventeen.    His  name,  and 
the  just  curiosity  of  mankind  to  trace  the  development  of  a 

*  I  am  indebted  for  the  knowledge  of  !  •     •    •         •     "  N«f  crimeninesse 

this  to  a  manuscript  note  I  found  in  the  Concubitu  nnnium  tah,  Cleopatra,  put 

copy  of  Alabaster's  Koxana  in  tlie  British  bunt 

Mui*um :  ''  Hand  multum  abest  h*c  tra-  Qui  Ptolemaeorum  thalamos.  consuetaque 

gedia  a  pura  vereione  trageiliae    Italicae  jura 

Ludorici  Groti  Cwci  Hadriensis  cui  tita-  Incesue  novere  domus.  fratremque  soron 

lusDalida."    This  induced  me  to  read  the  Conjugio  junctam.  sacrae  sub  nomine  t*d» 

tragedv  of  Groto,  which  I  had  not  pre-  Majus  adulterio  delictnm :  turpius  Jsset, 

Tioa~lv  done  Qui*  credat  ?  justi  ad  thaiamos  Cleopatra 

The"  title  of  Roxana  runs  thus  :   "  Rox-  mariti. 

ana  tragedia  a  plagiarii  unguibus  rindi-  Utque  minus  let-to  peccaret,  adultera  fact* 

cata    aucta    et   agnita    ab    autore    Gul.  est." 
Alabastro.    Lend.  1632  " 


270  MILTON'S  LATIN  POETRY.  PART  IIL 

mighty  genius,  would  naturally  attract  our  regard.  They  are 
Milton's  m  themselves  full  of  classical  elegance,  of  thoughts 
Latin  natural  and  pleasing,  of  a  diction  culled  with  taste 
poems.  from  the  gardens  of  ancient  poetry,  of  a  versifica- 
tion remarkably  well  cadenced  and  grateful  to  the  ear.  There 
is  in  them,  without  a  marked  originality,  which  Latin  verse 
can  rarely  admit  but  at  the  price  of  some  incorrectness  or 
impropriety,  a  more  individual  display  of  the  poet's  mind 
than  we  usually  find.  "  In  the  elegies,"  it  is  said  by 
Warton,  a  very  competent  judge  of  Latin  poetry,  "  Ovid 
was  professedly  Milton's  model  for  language  and  versifica- 
tion. They  are  not,  however,  a  perpetual  and  uniform 
tissue  of  Ovidian  phraseology.  With  Ovid  in  view,  he  has 
an  original  manner  and  character  of  his  own,  which  exhi- 
bit a  remarkable  perspicuity  of  contexture,  a  native  faci- 
lity and  fluency.  Nor  does  his  observation  of  Roman 
models  oppress  or  destroy  our  great  poet's  inherent  powers 
of  invention  and  sentiment.  I  value  these  pieces  as  much 
for  their  fancy  and  genius  as  for  their  style  and  expres- 
sion. That  Ovid,  among  the  Latin  poets,  was  Milton's  favor- 
ite, appears  not  only  from  his  elegiac  but  his  hexametric 
poetry.  The  versification  of  our  author's  hexameters  has  yet 
a  different  structure  from  that  of  the  Metamorphoses :  Mil- 
ton's is  more  clear,  intelligible,  and  flowing;  less  desultory, 
less  familiar,  and  less  embarrassed  with  a  frequent  recur- 
rence of  periods.  Ovid  is  at  once  rapid  and  abrupt." *  Why 
Warton  should  have  at  once  supposed  Ovid  to  be  Milton's 
favorite  model  in  hexameters,  and  yet  so  totally  different  as 
he  represents  him  to  be,  seems  hard  to  say.  The  structure 
of  our  poet's  hexameters  is  much  more  Virgilian ;  nor  do  I  see 
the  least  resemblance  in  them  to  the  manner  of  Ovid.  These 
Latin  poems  of  Milton  bear  some  traces  of  juvenility,  but, 
for  the  most  part,  such  as  please  us  for  that  very  reason :  it  is 
the  spring-time  of  an  ardent  and  brilliant  fancy,  before  the 
Btern  and  sour  spirit  of  polemical  Puritanism  had,  gained 
entrance  into  his  mind,  —  the  voice  of  the  Allegro  and  of 
( \>mus. 

1  Warton's  essay  on  the  Latin  poetry  of  Milton,  inserted  at  length  in  Todd's  editio  a 


CHAP.  VI.  DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  THEATRE.  271 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HISTORY  OF  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE  FROM  1600  10  1650. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  THE  ITALIAN  AND  SPANISH  DRAMA. 

Character  of  the  Italian  Theatre  in  this  Age  —  Bonarelli  —  The  Spanish  Theatre  — 
Calderon  —  Appreciation  of  his  Merits  as  a  Dramatic  Poet. 

1.  THE  Italian  theatre,  if  we  should  believe  one  of  its  his- 
torians, fell  into  total  decay  during  the  whole  course  ^ 

„  *  ,,    Decline  of 

or  the  seventeenth  century,  though  the  number  01  the  Italian 
dramatic  pieces  of  various  kinds  was  by  no  means  theatre- 
small.  He  makes  a  sort  of  apology  for  inserting  in  a  copious 
list  of  dramatic  performances  any  that  appeared  after  1600, 
and  stops  entirely  with  1G50.1  But  in  this  he  seems  hardly 
to  have  done  justice  to  a  few,  which,  if  not  of  remarkable 
excellence,  might  be  selected  from  the  rest.  Andreini  is  per- 
haps best  known  by  name  in  England,  and  that  for  one  only 
of  his  eighteen  dramas,  the  Adamo,  which  has  been  supposed, 
on  too  precarious  grounds,  to  have  furnished  the  idea  of  Para- 
dise Lost  in  the  original  form,  as  it  was  planned  by  its  great 
author.  The  Adamo  was  first  published  in  1613,  and  after- 
wards with  amplification  in  1641.  It  is  denominated  "A 
Sacred  Representation ; "  and,  as  Andreini  was  a  player  by 
profession,  must  be  presumed  to  have  been  brought  upon  the 
stage.  Itris,  however,  asserted  by  Riccoboni,  that  those  who 
wrote  regular  tragedies  did  not  cause  them  to  be  represented : 
probably  he  might  have  scrupled  to  give  that  epithet  to  the 
Adamo.  Hayler  and  Walker  have  reckoned  it  a  composition 
of  considerable  beauty. 

2.  The  majority  of  Italian  tragedies  in  the  seventeenth 
century  were  taken,  like  the  Adamo,  from  sacye£ 

1  Riccoboni  Hist,  du  Theatre  !***»-,  TO>  \. 


272  FILLI  DI  SCIiiC.  PAJU  ill. 

including  such  as  ecclesiastical  legends  abundantly  supplied. 
Few  of  these  gave  sufficient  scope,  either  by  action  or  charac- 
ter, for  the  diversity  of  excitement  which  the  stage  demand.-:. 
Tragedies  more  truly  deserving  that  name  were  the  Solimano 
of  Bonarelli,  the  Tancredi  of  Campeggio,  the  Demetrio  of 
Rocco,  which  Salfi  prefers  to  the  rest,  and  the  Aristodemo 
of  Carlo  de'  Dottori.  A  drama  by  Testi,  L'Isola  di  Alcina, 
had  some  reputation ;  but  in  this,  which  the  title  betrays  not 
to  be  a  legitimate  tragedy,  he  introduced  musical  airs,  and 
thus  trod  on  the  boundaries  of  a  rival  art.1  It  has  been 
suggested  with  no  inconsiderable  probability,  that,  in  her 
passion  for  the  melodrame,  Italy  lost  all  relish  for  the  graver 
tone  of  tragedy.  Music,  at  least  the  music  of  the  opera,  con- 
spired with  many  more  important  circumstances  to  spread  an 
effeminacy  over  the  public  character. 

3.  The  pastoral  drama  had  always  been  allied  to  musical 
Km  di  sentiment,  even  though  it  might  be  without  accom- 
Sciro-  paniment.  The  feeling  it  inspired  was  nearly  that 
of  the  opera.  In  this  style  we  find  one  imitation  of  Tasso 
and  Guariui,  inferior  in  most  qualities,  yet  deserving  some 
regard,  and  once  popular  even  with  the  critics  of  Italy.  This 
was  the  Filli  di  Sciro  of  Bonarelli,  published  at  Ferrara  —  a 
city  already  fallen  into  the  hands  of  priests,  but  round  whose 
deserted  palaces  the  traditions  of  poetical  glory  still  lingered 
—  in  1 607,  and  represented  by  an  academy  in  the  same  place 
soon  afterwards.  It  passed  through  numerous  editions,  and 
was  admired,  even  beyond  the  Alps,  during  the  whole  cen- 
tury, and  perhaps  still  longer.  It  displays  much  of  the  bad 
taste  and  affectation  of  that  period.  Bonarelli  is  as  strained 
in  the  construction  of  history,  and  in  his  characters,  as  he  is  in 
his  style.  Celia,  the  heroine  of  this  pastoral,  struggles  with  a 
double  love ;  the  original  idea,  as  he  might  truly  think,  of  his 
drama,  which  he  wrote  a  long  dissertation  in  order  to  justify. 
It  is,  however,  far  less  conformable  to  the  truth  of  nature  than 
to  the  sophisticated  society  for  which  he  wrote.  A  wanton 
capricious  court-lady  might  perhaps  waver,  with  some  warmth 
of  inclination  towards  both,  between  two  lovers,  "  Alme  dell' 
alma  mia,"  as  Celia  calls  them,  and  be  very  willing  to  possess 
either.  But  what  is  morbid  in  moral  affection  seldom  creates 
sympathy,  or  is  fit  either  for  narrative  poetry  or  the  stage. 

1  Salfi,  Continuation  de  Oinguene,  vol.    the   Italian  stage,   Saggio  Storico-Critico 
sii.  chap.  ix.    Besides  this  larger  work,    della  Commedia  Italiana. 
KiUfi  published  in  1829  a  short  essay  on 


.  VI.  EXTEMPORANEOUS  COMEDY.  273 

Bonarelli's  diction  is  studied  and  polished  to  the  highest 
degree  ;  and.  though  its  false  refinement  and  affected  graces 
often  displease  us,  the  real  elegance  of  insulated  passages 
makes  us  pause  to  admire.  In  harmony  and  sweetness  of 
sound,  he  seems  fully  equal  to  his  predecessors,  Tasso  and 
Guarini ;  but  he  has  neither  the  pathos  of  the  one,  nor  the 
fertility  of  the  other.  The  language  and  turn  of  thought 
seems,  more  than  in  the  Pastor  Fido,  to  be  that  of  the 
opera ;  wanting,  indeed,  nothing  but  the  intermixture  of  air 
to  be  perfectly  adapted  to  music.  Its  great  reputation, 
which  even  Crescimbeni  does  his  utmost  to  keep  up,  proves 
the  decline  of  good  taste  in  Italy,  and  the  lateness  of  its 
revival.1 

4.  A  new  fashion,  which  sprung  up  about  1 620,  both  marks 
the  extinction  of  a  taste  for  genuine  tragedy,  and,  by   Transia- 
furnishing  a  substitute,  stood  in  the  way  of  its  revi-   Spanish 
val.    Translations  from  Spanish  tragedies  and  tragi-  dramas, 
comedies,  those  of  Lope  de  Vega  and  his  successors,  replaced 
the  native  muse  of  Italy.     These  were  in  prose  and  in  three 
acts,  irregular  of  course,  and  with  very  different  characteristics 
from  those  of  the  Italian  school.     "The  very  name  of  tra- 
gedy," says  Riccoboni,  "  became  unknown  in  our  country  :  the 
monsters  which  usurped  the  place  did  not  pretend  to  that  glo- 
rious title.     Tragi-comedies  rendered  from  the  Spanish,  such 
as  Life  is  a  Dream  (of  Calderon),  the  Samson,  the  Guest  of 
Stone,  and  others  of  the  same  class,  were  the  popular  orna- 
ments of  the  Italian  stage."2 

o.    The   extemporaneous   comedy   had    always    been    the 
amusement  of  the  Italian  populace,  not  to  say  of  all   Extempo. 
who  wished  to  unbend  their  minds.3     An  epoch  in  raneous 
this  art  was  made  in  1611  by  Flaminio  Scala,  who  c' 
first   published   the   outline   or  canvas  of  a  series  of  these 
pieces ;    the  dialogue  being,  of  course,  reserved  for  the  in- 
genious performers.4     This  outline  was  not  quite  so  short  as 
that  sometimes  given  in  Italian  play-bills :  it  explained  the 

1  Istoria  della  volgar  Poesia,  ir.   147.     to  develop  them  in  extemporaneous  di»- 
He  places  the  Filli  di  Sciro  next  to  the    logue."    Such  a  sketch  was  called  a  sce- 
Aininta.  nario,  containing  the  subject  of  each  .scene, 

2  HL-t.  dn  Theltre  Italien,  i.  47.  and  those  of  Flaminio   Scala  were  cele- 
1  The    extemporaneous    comedy     was    brated.   Saggio  Storico-Critico.  p.  38.   The 

called  Commedia  dell:  Arte.     "  It  consist-  pantomime,  as  it  exists  among  us,  is  th« 

ed,°'  says  Salfi.  liin  a  mere  sketch  or  plan  descendant  of  this  extemporaneous  come- 

of  a  dramatic  composition,  the  parts  in  dy,  but  with  little  of  the  wit  and  spirit 

which,  having  been  hardly  shadowed  out,  of  its  progenitor, 

were  assigned  to  different  actors  who  were  *  Salfi,  p.  40. 
VOL.  ill.            18 


274          SPANISH  STAGE  — CALDERON.      PART  HI. 

drift  of  each  actor's  part  in  the  scene,  but  without  any  distinct 
hint  of  what  he  was  to  say.  The  construction  of  these  fables 
is  censured  by  Riccoboni  as  weak ;  but  it  would  hot  be  rea- 
eonable  to  expect  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  The  talent  of 
the  actors  supplied  the  deficiency  of  writers.  A  certain  quick- 
ness of  wit,  and  tact  in  catching  the  shades  of  manner,  com- 
paratively rare  among  us,  are  widely  diffused  in  Italy.  It 
would  be,  we  may  well  suspect,  impossible  to  establish  an 
extemporaneous  theatre  in  England  which  should  not  be 
stupidly  vulgar.1  But  Bergamo  sent  out  many  Harlequins, 
and  Venice  many  Pantaloons.  They  were  respected,  as 
brilliant  wit  ought  to  be.  The  Emperor  Mathias  ennobled 
Cecchini,  a  famous  Harlequin ;  who  was,  however,  a  man  of 
letters.  These  actors  sometimes  took  the  plot  of  old  comedies 
as  their  outline,  and  disfigured  them,  so  as  hardly  to  be 
known,  by  their  extemporaneous  dialogue.2 

6.  Lope  de  Vega  was  at  the  height  of  his  glory  at  the  be- 
Spanish  ginning  of  this  century.  Perhaps  the  majority  of 
etage.  gig  dramas  fau  within  it ;  but  enough  has  been  said 
on  the  subject  in  the  last  volume.  His  contemporaries  and 
immediate  successors  were  exceedingly  numerous ;  the  efful- 
gence of  dramatic  literature  in  Spain  corresponding  exactly  in 
time  to  that  of  England.  Several  are  named  by  Bouterwek 
and  Velasquez ;  but  one  only,  Pedro  Calderon  de  la  Barca, 
Caideron  •  mus^  ^e  permitted  to  arrest  us.  This  celebrated  man 
number  oir  was  born  in  1600,  and  died  in  1683.  From  an  early 
his  pieces.  age  tj^  after  ^  j^dle  of  t^e  century,  when  he  en- 
tered the  church,  he  contributed,  with  a  fertility  only  eclipsed 
by  that  of  Lope,  a  long  list  of  tragic,  historic,  comic,  and 
tragi-comic  dramas  to  the  Spanish  stage.  In  the  latter 
period  of  his  life,  he  confined  himself  to  the  religious  pieces 
called  Autos  Sacramentales.  Of  these,  97  are  published  in 

1  This  is  only  meant  as  to  dialogue  and  extinguished),  derives  it  from  the  mimes 

as  to  the  public  stage.  The  talent  of  a  and  Atcllanian  comedies  of  ancient  Italy, 

single  actor,  like  the  late  Charles  Mathews,  tracing  them  through  the  middle  ages, 

is  not  an  exception ;  but  even  the  power  The  point  seems  sufficiently  proved.  The 

of  strictly  extemporaneous  comedy,  with  last  company  of  performers  in  this  old 

the  agreeable  poignancy  that  the  minor  though  plebeian  family  existed,  within 

theatre  requires,  is  not  wanting  among  about  thirty  years,  in  Lorn  hardy.  A  friend 

some  whose  station,  and  habits  of  life,  re-  of  mine  at  that  time  witnessed  the  last  of 

strain  its  exercise  to  the  most  private  cir-  the  Harlequins.  I  need  hardly  say  that 

cles.  this  character  was  not  a  mere  skipper  over 

-  Riccoboni,  Hist,  du  Theatre  Italian  the  stage,  as  we  have  seen  him,  but  a  very 

Salfi,  xii.  618.  An  elaborate  disquisition  honest  and  lively  young  Bcrgamasque. 

on  the  extemporaneous  comedy  by  Mr.  The  plays  of  Carlo  Gozzi,  if  plays  they  are, 

Vanizzi,  in  the  Foreign  Review  for  1829  are  mere  hints  to  guide  the  wit  Ql' extern* 

(not  the  Foreign  Quarterly,  but  one  early  poraaeous  actors. 


CHAP.  VI.  CALDERON.  275 

the  collective  edition  of  1726,  besides  127  of  bis  regular  plays. 
In  one  year,  1635,  it  is  said  that  twelve  of  his  comedies  ap- 
peared ;  but  the  authenticity  of  so  large  a  number  has  been 
questioned.  He  is  said  to  have  given  a  list  of  his  sacred 
plays,  at  the  age  of  eighty,  consisting  of  only  68.  No  collec- 
tion was  published  by  himself.  Some  of  his  comedies,  in  the 
Spanish  sense  of  the  word,  it  may  be  observed,  turn  more  or 
less  on  religious  subjects,  as  their  titles  show :  El  Purgatorio 
de  San  Patricio ;  La  Devocion  de  la  Cruz ;  Judas  Maccabeus ; 
La  Cisina  de  Inghilterra.  He  did  not  dislike  contemporary 
subjects.  In  El  Sitio  de  Breda,  we  have  Spinola,  Nas- 
sau, and  others  then  living,  on  the  scene.  Calderon's  metre 
is  generally  trochaic,  of  eight  or  seven  syllables,  not  always 
rhyming ;  but  verses  de  arte  mayor,  as  they  were  called,  or 
anapestic  lines  of  eleven  or  twelve  syllables,  and  also  hen- 
decasyllables,  frequently  occur. 

7.  The  comedies,  those  properly  so  called,  de  capa  y  es- 
pada,  which  represent  manners,  are  full  of  incident,  His  com* 
but  not  perhaps  crowded  so  as  to  produce  any  confu-  dies- 
sion:    the  characters  have  nothing  very  salient,  but  express 
the  sentiments  of  gentlemen  with  frankness  and  spirit.     We 
find  in  every  one  a  picture  of  Spain, — gallantry,  jealousy, 
quick  resentment  of  insult,  sometimes  deep  revenge.     The 
language  of  Calderon  is  not  unfrequently  poetical,  even  in 
these  lighter  dramas ;    but  hyperbolical  figures  and  insipid 
conceits  deform  its  beauty.     The  gracioso,  or  witty  servant, 
is  an  unfailing  personage ;  but  I  do  not  know  (my  reading, 
however,  being  extremely  limited)    that    Calderon   displays 
much  brilliancy  or  liveliness  in  his  sallies. 

8.  The  plays  of  Calderon  required  a  good  deal  of  theatrical 
apparatus,  unless  the  good  nature  of  the  audience  dispensed 
with  it.     But  this  kind  of  comedy  must  have  led  to  scenical 
improvements.     They  seem  to  contain  no  indecency ;  nor  do 
the  intrigues  ever  become  criminal,  at  least  in  effect :  most 
of  the  ladies,  indeed,  are  unmarried.     Yet  they  have  been  se- 
verely censured  by  later  critics  on  the  score  of  their  morality, 
which  is  no  doubt  that  of  the  stage,  but  considerably  purified 
in  comparison  with  the  Italian  and  French  of  the  sixteenth 
century.      Calderon  seems  to  bear  no  resemblance  to   any 
English  writer  of  his  age,  except,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher;   and,  as  he  wants  their  fertility  of  wit 
and  humor,  we  cannot,  I  presume,  place  the  best  of  his  come- 


276  LA  VEDA  ES  SUEftO.  PART  HI 

dies  on  a  level  with  even  the  second  class  of  theirs.  But  I 
should  speak,  perhaps,  with  more  reserve  of  an  author,  very 
few  of  whose  plays  I  have  read,  and  with  whose  language  I 
am  very  imperfectly  acquainted;  nor  should  I  have  ventured 
so  far,  if  the  opinion  of  many  European  critics  had  not  seemed 
to  warrant  my  frigid  character  of  one  who  has  sometimes 
been  so  much  applauded. 

9.  La  Vida  es  Sueno  rises,  in  its  subject  as  well  as  style, 
La  Vida  es    above  the  ordinary  comedies  of  Calderon.     Basilius, 
Sueno.         King  of  Poland,  a  deep  philosopher,  has,  by  consult- 
ing the  stars,  had  the  misfortune  of  ascertaining  that   his 
unborn  son  Sigismund  would  be  under  some  extraordinary 
influences  of  evil  passion.     He  resolves,  in  consequence,  to 
conceal  his  birth,  and  to  bring  him  up  in  a  horrible  solitude, 
where,  it  hardly  appears  why,  he  is  laden  with  chains,  and 
covered  with  skins  of  beasts ;  receiving  meantime  an  excellent 
education,  and  becoming  able  to  converse  on  every  subject, 
though  destitute  of  all  society  but  that  of  his  keeper  Clotaldo. 
The  inheritance  of  the  crown  of  Poland  is  supposed  to  have 
devolved  on  Astolfo,  Duke  of  Moscovy ;  or  on  his  cousin  Es- 
trella,  who,  as  daughter  of  an  elder  branch,  contests  it  with 
him.     The  play  opens  by  a  scene,  in  which  Rosaura,  a  Mos- 
covite  lady,  who,  having  been  betrayed  by  Astolfo,  has  fled  to 
Poland  in  man's  attire,  descends  the  almost  impassable  preci- 
pices which  overhang  the  small  castle  wherein  Sigismund  is 
confined.     This  scene,  and  that  in  which  he  first  appears,  are 
impressive  and  full  of  beauty,  even  now  that  we  are  become 
accustomed  in  excess  to  these  theatrical  wonders.     Clotaldo 
discovers  the  prince  in  conversation  with  a  stranger,  who,  by 
the  king's  general  order,  must  be  detained,  and  probably  for 
death.    A  circumstance  leads  him  to  believe  that  this  stranger 
is  his  son ;   but  the  Castilian  loyalty  transferred  to  Poland 
forbids  him  to  hesitate  in  obeying  his  instructions.     The  king, 
however,  who  has  fortunately  determined  to  release  his  son, 
and  try  an  experiment  upon  the  force  of  the  stars,  coming  in 
at  this  tune,  sets  Rosaura  at  liberty. 

10.  In  the  next  act,  Sigismund,  who,  by  the  help  of  a  sleep- 
ing potion,  has  been  conveyed  to  the  palace,  wakes  in  a  bed 
of  down,  and  in  the  midst  of  royal  splendor.     He  has  little 
difficulty  in  understanding  his  new  condition,  but  preserves  a 
not   unnatural   resentment  of  his   former  treatment.      The 
malign  stars  prevail :  he  treats  Astolfo  with  the  utmost  arro- 


CHAP.  VL  LA  VIDA  ES  SUE??0.  277 

gance,  reviles  and  threatens  his  father,  throws  one  of  his 
servants  out  of  the  window,  attempts  the  life  of  Clotaldo  and 
the  honor  of  Rosaura.  The  king,  more  convinced  than  ever 
of  the  truth  of  astrology,  directs  another  soporific  draught  to 
be  administered ;  and,  in  the  next  scene,  we  find  the  prince 
again  in  his  prison.  Clotaldo,  once  more  at  his  side,  per- 
suades him  that  his  late  royalty  has  passed  in  a  dream ;  wisely 
observing,  however,  that,  asleep  or  awake,  we  should  always 
do  what  is  right. 

11.  Sigismund,  after  some  philosophical   reflections,   pre- 
pares to  submit  to  the  sad  reality  which  has  displaced  his 
vision.     But,  in  the  third  act,  an  unforeseen  event  recalls  him 
to  the  world.     The  army,  become  acquainted  with  his  rights, 
and  indignant  that  the  king  should  transfer  them  to  Astolfo, 
break  into  his  prison,  and  place  him  at  their  head.     Clotaldo 
expects  nothing  but  death.     A  new  revolution,  however,  has 
taken  place.     Sigismund,  corrected  by  the  dismal  consequences 
of  giving  way  to  passion  in  his  former  dream,  and  apprehend- 
ing a  similar  waking  once  more,   has    suddenly  overthrown 
the  sway  of  the  sinister  constellations  that  had  enslaved  him : 
he  becomes  generous,  mild,  and  master  of  himself;   and,  the 
only  pretext  for  his  disinheritance  being  removed,  it  is  easy 
that  he  should  be  reconciled  to  his  father ;  that  Astolfo,  aban- 
doning a  kingdom  he  can  no  longer  claim,  should  espouse  the 
injured  Rosaura ;  and  that  the  reformed  prince  should  become 
the  husband  of  Estrella.     The  incidents  which  chiefly  relate 
to  these  latter  characters  have  been  omitted  in  this  slight 
analysis. 

12.  This  tragi-comedy  presents  a  moral  not  so  contemptible 
in  the  age  of  Calderon  as  it  may  now  appear,  —  that  the  stars 
may  influence  pur  will,  but  do  not  oblige  it.      If  we  could 
extract  an  allegorical  meaning  from  the  chimeras  of  astrology 
and  deem  the  stars  but  names  for  the  circumstances  of  birtl 
and  -brtune  which  affect  the  character  as  well  as  condition  of 
every  man,  but  yield  to  the  persevering  energy  of  self-correc- 
tion, we  might  see  in  this  fable  the  shadow  of  a  permanent 
and  valuable   truth.     As   a  play,  it   deserves   considerable 
praise :  the  events  are  surprising  without  excessive  improba- 
bility, and  succeed  each  other  without  confusion ;  the  thoughts 
are  natural,  and  poetically  expressed ;  and  it  requires,  on  the 
whole,  less  allowance  for  the  different  standard  of  national 
taste  than  is  usual  in  the  Spanish  drama. 


278  STYLE  OF  CALDERON.  PART  ill. 

13.  A  secreto  Agravio  secreta  Vengan<ja  is   a  domestic 

tragedy,  which  turns  on  a  common  story, — a  hus- 
Agravio  &»-  band's  revenge  on  one  whom  he  erroneously  believes 
cretaVen-  to  foe  still  a  favored,  and  who  had  been  once  an 

accepted  lover.  It  is  something  like  Tancred  and 
Sigismunda,  except  that  the  lover  is  killed  instead  of  the  hus- 
band. The  latter  puts  him  to  death  secretly,  which  gives 
name  to  the  play.  He  afterwards  sets  fire  to  his  own  house, 
and,  in  the  confusion,  designedly  kills  his  wife.  A  friend  com- 
municates the  fact  to  his  sovereign,  Sebastian,  King  of  Portu- 
gal, who  applauds  what  has  been  done.  It  is  an  atrocious 
play,  and  speaks  terrible  things  as  to  the  state  of  public  senti- 
ment in  Spain,  but  abounds  with  interesting  and  touching 
passages. 

14.  It  has  been  objected  to  Calderon,  and  the  following 
style  of       defence  of  Bouterwek  seems  very  insufficient,  that 
Calderon.     jjjg  servants  converse  in  a  poetical  style  like  their 
masters.      "The  spirit,  on  these  particular  occasions,"  says 
that  judicious  but  lenient  critic,  "  must  not  be  misunderstood. 
The  servants  in  Calderon's  comedies  always  imitate  the  lan- 
guage of  their  masters.     In  most  cases,  they  express  them- 
selves like  the  latter,  in  the  natural  language  of  real  life,  and 
often  divested  of  that  coloring  of  the  ideas,  without  which  a 
dramatic  work  ceases  to  be  a  poem.     But  whenever  romantic 
gallantry  speaks  in  the  language  of  tenderness,  admiration, 
or  flattery,  then,  according  to   Spanish   custom,  every  idea 
becomes  a  metaphor;    and  Calderon,  who   was   a  thorough 
Spaniard,  seized  these  opportunities  to  give  the  reins  to  his 
fancy,  and  to  suffer  it  to  take  a  bold  lyric  flight  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  nature.     On  such  occasions,  the  most  extrava- 
gant metaphoric  language,  in  the  style  of  the  Italian  Mari- 
nists,  did  not  appear  unnatural  to  a  Spanish  audience  ;  and 
even  Calderon  himself  had  for  that  style  a  particular  fondness, 
to  the  gratification  of  which  he  sacrificed  a  chaster  taste.    It 
was  his  ambition  to  become  a  more  refined  Lope  de  Vegi  or 
a  Spanish  Marini.      Thus  in  his  play,  Bien  vengas  Mai  si 
vengas  solo,  a  waiting-maid,  addressing  her  young  mistress 
who  has  risen  in   a   gay  humor,   says   '  Aurora   would  not 
have  done  wrong  had  she  slumbered  that   morning   in  her 
snowy  crystal,  for  that  the  sight   of  her   mistress's   charms 
would  suffice  to  draw  aside  the  curtains  from  the  couch  of 
Sol.'     She  adds,  that,  using  a  Spanish  idea,  '  it  might  then, 


CHAP.  VL          CALDERON'S  MERITS  OVERRATED.  279 

indeed,  be  said  that  the  sun  had  risen  in  her  lady's  eyes.' 
Valets,  on  the  like  occasion,  speak  in  the  same  style ;  and 
when  lovers  address  compliments  to  their  mistresses,  and 
these  reply  in  the  same  strain,  the  play  of  far-fetched  meta- 
phors is  aggravated  by  antitheses  to  a  degree  which  is  intole- 
rable to  any  but  a  Spanish-formed  taste.  But  it  must  not  be 
forgotten,  that  this  language  of  gallantry  was,  in  Calderon's 
time,  spoken  by  the  fashionable  world,  and  that  it  was  a  ver- 
nacular property  of  the  ancient  national  poetry." l  What  is 
this  but  to  confess  that  Calderon  had  not  genius  to  raise  him- 
self above  his  age,  and  that  he  can  be  read  only  as  a  "  Triton  of 
tie  minnows ; "  one  who  is  great  but  in  comparison  with  his 
neighbors  ?  It  will  not  convert  bad  writing  into  good,  to  tell 
us,  as  is  perpetually  done,  that  we  must  place  ourselves  in  the 
aithor's  position,  and  make  allowances  for  the  taste  of  his  age 
01  the  temper  of  his  nation.  All  this  is  true  relatively  to  the 
aithor  himseK,  and  may  be  pleaded  against  a  condemnation 
of  his  talents ;  but  the  excuse  of  the  man  is  not  that  of  the 
wirk. 

15.  The  fame  of  Calderon  has  been  latterly  revived  in 
Eirope  through  the  praise  of  some  German  critics,  ^  merita 
bit  especially  the  unbounded  panegyric  of  one  of  sometimes 
tbir  greatest  men,  William  Schlegel.  The  passage  ° 
is  well  known  for  its  brilliant  eloquence.  Every  one  must 
difer  with  reluctance  and  respect  from  this  accomplished 
witer;  and  an  Englishman,  acknowledging  with  gratitude 
aii  admiration  what  Schlegel  has  done  for  the  glory  of 
Slakspeare,  ought  not  to  grudge  the  laurels  he  showers  upon 
anther  head.  It  is,  however,  rather  as  a  poet  than  a  drama- 
tic that  Calderon  has  received  this  homage  ;  and,  in  his  poet- 
ry it  seems  to  be  rather  bestowed  on  the  mysticism,  which 
fids  a  responsive  chord  in  so  many  German  hearts,  than  on 
waat  we  should  consider  a  more  universal  excellence, — a  sym- 
pthy  with,  and  a  power  over,  all  that  is  true  and  beautiful  in 
nture  and  in  man.  Sismondi  (but  the  distance  between 
Teimar  and  Geneva  in  matters  of  taste  is  incomparably 
geater  than  by  the  public  road),  dissenting  from  this  eulogy 
c'  Schlegel,  which  he  fairly  lays  before  the  reader,  stigmatizes 
•alderon  as  eminently  the  poet  of  the  age  wherein  he  lived, — 

1  P.  507.    It  has  been  ingeniously  hint-  their  masters,   and  designed  to  make  it 

I  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxv.,  that  ridiculous.    But  this  is  jvobably  too  to- 

le  high-flown  language  of  servants  in  fined  an  excuse 
panish  dramas  is  a  parody  on  that  of 


280  CALDERON'S  MERITS  OVERRATED.  PART  III 

the  age  of  Philip  IV.     Salfi  goes  so  far  as  to  say  we  can 
hardly  read  Calderon  without  indignation ;    since  he  seems 
to  have  had  no  view  but  to  make  his  genius  subservient  to 
the  lowest  prejudices  and  superstitions  of  his  country.1     In  the 
twenty-fifth  volume  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  an  elaborate  and 
able  critique  on  the  plays  of  Calderon  seems  to  have  estimat- 
ed liim  without   prejudice  on  either   side.     "  His   boundless 
and  inexhaustible  fertility  of  invention,  his  quick  power  of 
seizing  and  prosecuting  every  thing  with  dramatic  effect,  the 
unfailing  animal  spirits  of  his  dramas  (if  we  may  venture  on 
the  expression),  the  general  loftiness  and  purity  of  his  senti- 
ments, the  rich  facility  of  his  verse,  the  abundance   of  Us 
language,  and  the  clearness   and   precision   with   which   le 
embodies  his  thoughts  in  words  and  figures,  entitle  him  to  a 
high  rank  as  to  the  imagination  and  creative  faculty  of  a  pod, ; 
but  we  cannot  consent  to  enrol  him  among  the  mighty  masters 
of  the  human  breast."2     His  total  want  of  truth  to  natuie, 
even  the  ideal  nature  which  poetry  embodies,  justifies  at  lesst 
this  sentence.     "  The  wildest  flights  of  Biron  and  Romeo,"  it 
is  observed,  "  are  tame  to  the  heroes  of  Calderon  :  the  Asiaic 
pomp  of  expression,  the  exuberance  of  metaphor,  the  perpetial 
recurrence  of  the  same  figures  (which  the  poetry  of  Spun 
derived  from  its  intercourse  with  the  Arabian  conquerors  <f 
the   peninsula),   are   lavished  by  him   in   all   their   fulnes. 
Every  address  of  a  lover  to  a  mistress  is  thickly  studded  will 
stars  and  flowers :  her  locks  are  always  nets  of  gold,  her  IDS 
rubies,  and  her  heart  a  rock,  which  the  rivers  of  his  te;  •- 
attempt  in  vain  to  melt.     In  short,  the  language  of  the  hert 
is  entirely  abandoned  for  that  of  the  fancy :  the  brilliant  ht 
false  concetti  which  have  infected  the  poetical  literature  f 
every  country,  and  which  have  been  universally  exploded  ty 
pure  taste,  glitter  in   every  page,   and  intrude   into   evey 
speech."  8 

i  Hist.  Litt.  Oe  Qingu6n6,  rol.  si.  p.  499.  »  P.  24.  *  P.  14. 


CHAP.  VI.  FEENCH  DRAMA.  231 


SECT.  IT.  —  ON  THE  FRENCH  DRAMA. 

Early  French    Dramatists  of  this    Period  —  Oorneille  —  His  principal    Tragedies  — 

Rotrou. 

16.  AMONG  the  company  who  performed  at  the  second  the- 
atre of  Paris,  that  established  in  the  Marais,  was   piay8of 
Hardy,  who,  like  Shakspeare,  uniting  both  arts,  was  Hardy- 
himself  the  author  of  600,  or,   as  some  say,  800   dramatic 
pieces.     It  is  said  that  forty-one  of  these  are  extant  in  the 
collection  of  his  works,  which  I  have  never  seen.     Several  of 
them  were  written,  learned  by  heart,  and  represented  within 
a  week.     His  own  inventions  are  the  worst  of  all :   his  trage- 
dies and  tragi-comedies  are  borrowed,  with  as  close  an  adhe- 
rence to  the  original  text  as  possible,  from  Homer  or  Plutarch 
or  Cervantes.     They  have  more  incident  than  those  of  his 
predecessors,  and  are  somewhat  less  absurd ;   but  Hardy  is  a 
writer  of  little  talent.     The  Marianne  is  the  most  tolerable 
of  his  tragedies.     In  these  he  frequently  abandoned  the  cho- 
rus ;    and,  even  where  he  introduces  it,  does  not  regularly 
close  the  act  with  an  ode.1 

17.  In  the  comedies  of  Hardy,  and  in  the  many  burlesque 
farces   represented  under  Henry  IV.  and  Louis  XIIL,  no 
regard  was  paid  to  decency,  either  in  the  language  or  the 
circumstances.     Few  persons  of  rank,  especially  ladies,  at- 
tended the  theatres.2     These  were  first  attracted  by  pastoral 
representations,  of  which  Racan  gave  a  successful  example  ir 
his  Artenice.     It  is  hardly,  however,  to  be  called  a  drama. 
But  the  stage  being  no  longer  abandoned  to  the  populace,  and 
a  more  critical  judgment  in  French  literature  gaining  ground 
(encouraged  by  Richelieu,  who  built  a  large  room  in  his  palace 
for  the  representation  of  Mirame,  an  indifferent  tragedy,  part 

1  Fontenelle,  Hist,  du  The'atre  Francois,  thing  licentious   in   his   comedies.     The 
(in  (Euvres  de  Fontenelle,  iii.  72) :  Suard,  only  remain  of  grossness,  Fontenelle  ob- 
Mt-langes  de  Litterature,  vol.  iv.  serves,  was  that  the  lovers  se  tuioyoient ; 

2  Suard,  p.  l&l.     Rotrou  boasts,  that,  but,  as  he  gravely  goes  on  to  lemark.  "le 
since  he  wrote  for  the  theatre,  it  had  be-  tntoyement  ne   cheque    pas    les    bonnes 
come  so  well  regulated,  that  respectable  moeurs ;   il  ne  choque  que  la  politesse  et 
•women  might  go  to  it  with  as  little  scru-  la  vraie  galanterie."  —  p.  91.     But  the  last 
pie  as  to  the  Luxembourg  Garden.     Cor-  instance  of  this  heinous  offence  is  in  La 
neille,  however,  has,  in  general,  the  credit  Menteur. 

of  having  purified   the  stage :    after  his        3  Suard,  ubi  ftiprd 
second  piece,  Clitandre,  he  admitted  no- 


282  THE  CID.  PART  m. 

of  which  was  suspected  to  be  his  own1),  the  ancient  theatre 
began  to  be  studied ;  rules  were  laid  down,  and  partially  ob- 
served ;  a  perfect  decorum  replaced  the  licentiousness  and 
gross  language  of  the  old  writers.  Mairet  and  Rotrou,  though 
without  rising  in  their  first  plays  much  above  Hardy,  just 
served  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  father  and  founder  of  the 
national  theatre.2 

18.  The  Melite  of  Corneille,  his  first  production,  was  repre- 
sented in  1629,  when  he  was  twenty-three  years  of  age.    This 
is  only  distinguished,  as  some  say,  from  those  of  Hardy  by  a 
greater  vigor  of  style ;  but  Fontenelle  gives  a  very  different 
opinion.     It  had  at  least  a  success  which  caused  a  new  troop 
of  actors  to  be  established  in  the  Marais.     His  next,  Clitan- 
dre,  it  is  agreed,  is  not  so  good.      But  La  Veuve  is  much 
better:   irregular  in  action,  but   with  spirit,   character,   and 
well-invented  situations,  it  is  the  first  model  of  the  higher 
comedy.8     These  early  comedies  must,  in  fact,  have  been  rela- 
tively of  considerable  merit,  since  they  raised  Corneille  to 
high  reputation,  and  connected  him  with  the  literary  men  of 
his  time.     The  Medea,  though  much  borrowed  from  Seneca, 
gave  a  tone  of  grandeur   and   dignity  unknown   before   to 
French  tragedy.     This  appeared  in  1635,  and  was  followed 
by  the  Cid  next  year. 

19.  Notwithstanding  the   defence   made   by  La   Harpe,  I 
The  cad      cannot  but  agree  with  the  French  Academy  in  their 

criticism  on  this  play,  that  the  subject  is  essentially 
ill  chosen.  No  circumstances  can  be  imagined,  no  skill  can 
be  employed,  that  will  reconcile  the  mind  to  the  marriage  of  a 
daughter  with  one  that  has  shed  her  father's  blood  ;  and  the 
law  of  unity  of  time,  which  crowds  every  event  of  the  drama 
within  a  few  hours,  renders  the  promised  consent  of  Chimene 
(for  such  it  is)  to  this  union  still  more  revolting  and  improba- 
ble.4 The  knowledge -of  this  termination  re-acts  on  the  reader 
during  a  second  perusal,  so  as  to  give  an  irresistible  impres- 
sion of  her  insincerity  in  her  previous  solicitations  for  his 
death.  She  seems  indeed,  in  several  passages,  little  else 

1  Fontenelle,  pp.  84.  96.  *  La  Harpe  has  said  that  Chimfene  does 

2  Id.  p.  78.     It  is  difficult  in  France,  as  not  promise  at  last  to  marry  Rodrigue, 
It  is  with  us,  to  ascertain  the  date  of  plays,  though  the  spectator  perceives  that  sha 
because  they  were  often  represented  for  will  do  so.    He  forgets  that  she  has  corn- 
years  before  they  came  from  the  press.    It  missioned  her  lover's  sword  in  the  duel 
Is  conjectured  by  Fontenelle,  that  one  or  with  Don  Sancho :  — 

two  pieces  of  Mairet  and  Kotrou  may  have     «•  o 

preceded  any  by  Corneille.  Sors  vmnqueur  d'un  combat  dont  Chi- 

»  guard  ;  Fontenelle  ;  La Uarpe.  m6ne  est  le  prix."  --  Act  v.  sc.  1. 


CHAP.  VI.  STYLE  OF  CORNEILLE.  283 

than  a  tragic  coquette,  and  one  of  the  most  odious  kind.1 
The  English  stage  at  that  time  was  not  exempt  from  great 
violations  of  nature  and  decorum :  yet,  had  the  subject  of  the 
Cid  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  (and  it  is 
one  which  they  would  have  willingly  selected,  for  the  sake  of 
the  effective  situations  and  contrasts  of  passion  it  affords),  the 
part  of  Chimene  would  have  been  managed  by  them  with 
great  warmth  and  spirit,  though  probably  not  less  incongruity 
and  extravagance ;  but  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  the  con- 
clusion would  have  been  so  much  in  the  style  of  comedy 
Her  death,  or  retirement  into  a  monastery,  would  have 
seemed  more  consonant  to  her  own  dignity  and  to  that  of  a 
tragic  subject.  Corneille  was,  however,  borne  out  by  the 
tradition  of  Spain,  and  by  the  authority  of  Guillen  de  Castro, 
whom  he  imitated. 

20.  The  language  of  Corneille  is  elevated ;  his  sentiments, 
if  sometimes  hyperbolical,  generally  noble,  when  he  style  of 
has  not  to  deal  with  the  passion  of  love.  Conscious  Corneille. 
of  the  nature  of  his  own  powers,  he  has  avoided  subjects 
wherein  this  must  entirely  predominate :  it  was  to  be,  as  he 
thought,  an  accessory  but  never  a  principal  source  of  dramatic 
interest.  In  this,  however,  as  a  general  law  of  tragedy,  he 
was  mistaken :  love  is  by  no  means  unfit  for  the  chief  source 
of  tragic  distress,  but  comes  in  generally  with  a  cold  and 
feeble  effect  as  a  subordinate  emotion.  In  those  Roman  sto- 
ries which  he  most  affected,  its  expression  could  hardly  be 
otherwise  than  insipid  and  incongruous.  Corneille  probably 
would  have  dispensed  with  it,  like  Shakspeare  in  Coriolanus 
and  Julius  Caesar ;  but  the  taste  of  his  contemporaries,  formed 
in  the  pedantic  school  of  romance,  has  imposed  fetters  on  his 
genius  in  almost  every  drama.  In  the  Cid,  where  the  subject 
left  him  no  choice,  he  has  perhaps  succeeded  better  in  the 
delineation  of  love  than  on  any  other  occasion ;  yet  even  here 
we  often  find  the  cold  exaggerations  of  complimentary  verse, 
instead  of  the  voice  of  nature.  But  other  scenes  of  this 
play,  especially  in  the  first  act,  which  bring  forward  the  proud 
Castilian  characters  of  the  two  fathers  of  Rodrigo  and  Chi- 

1  In  these  lines,  for  example,  of  the  third  act.  scene  4th :  — 

"  Malgre  les  feux  si  beaux  qui  rompent  ma  colere, 
Je  ferai  mon  possible  a  bien  venger  mon  pere ; 
Mais  malgre'la  rigueur  d'un  si  cruel  devoir. 
Mon  unique  souhait  est  de  ne  rien  pouvoir." 

It  is  true  that  he  found  this  in  his  Spanish  original :  but  that  does  not  render  the  imi- 
tation judicious,  or  the  sentiment  either  moral,  or  even  theatrically  specious. 


284  LES  HORACES.  PART  HI. 

mene,  are  full  of  the  nervous  eloquence  of  Corncille  ;  and  the 
general  style,  though  it  may  not  have  borne  the  fastidious 
criticism  either  of  the  Academy  or  of  Voltaire,  is  so  far  above 
any  thing  which  had  been  heard  on  the  French  stage,  that  it 
was  but  a  very  frigid  eulogy  in  the  former  to  say  that  it  "  had 
acquired  a  considerable  reputation  among  works  of  the  kind." 
It  had  at  that  time  astonished  Paris :  but  the  prejudices  of 
Cardinal  Richelieu  and  the  envy  of  inferior  authors,  joined 
perhaps  to  the  proverbial  unwillingness  of  critical  bodies  to 
commit  themselves  by  warmth  of  praise,  had  some  degree  of 
influence  on  the  judgment  which  the  Academy  pronounced 
on  the  Cid ;  though  I  do  not  think  it  was  altogether  so  unjust 
and  uncandid  as  has  sometimes  been  supposed. 

21.  The  next  tragedy  of  Corneille,  Les  Horaces,  is  hardly 
Les  Horaces  °Pen  *°  ^ess  objection  than  the  Cid ;  not  so  much 
because  there  is,  as  the  French  critics  have  disco- 
vered, a  want  of  unity  in  the  subject,  which  I  do  not  quite 
perceive,  nor  because  the  fifth  act  is  tedious  and  uninteresting, 
as  from  the  repulsiveness  of  the  story,  and  the  jarring  of  the 
sentiments  with  our  natural  sympathies.  Corneille  has  com- 
plicated the  legend  in  Livy  with  the  marriage  of  the  younger 
Horatius  to  the  sister  of  the  Curiatii,  and  thus  placed  his  two 
female  personages  in  a  nearly  similar  situation,  which  he  has 
taken  little  pains  to  diversify  by  any  contrast  in  their  charac- 
ters. They  speak,  on  the  contrary,  nearly  in  the  same  tone ; 
and  we  see  no  reason  why  the  hero  of  the  tragedy  should  not, 
as  he  seems  half  disposed,  have  followed  up  the  murder  of  his 
sister  by  that  of  his  wife.  More  skill  is  displayed  in  the 
opposition  of  character  between  the  combatants  themselves ; 
but  the  mild,  though  not  less  courageous  or  patriotic,  Curiatius 
attaches  the  spectator,  who  cares  nothing  for  the  triumph  of 
Rome,  or  the  glory  of  the  Horatian  name.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  the  elder  Horatius  is  nobly  conceived :  the  Roman 
energy,  of  which  we  find  but  a  caricature  in  his  brutish  son, 
shines  out  in  him  with  an  admirable  dramatic  spirit.  I  shall 
be  accused,  nevertheless,  of  want  of  taste,  when  I  confess  that 
his  celebrated  Qu'il  mourut  has  always  seemed  to  me  less 
eminently  sublime  than  the  general  suffrage  of  France  has 
declared  it.  There  is  nothing  very  novel  or  striking  in  the 
proposition,  that  a  soldier's  duty  is  to  die  in  the  field  rather 
than  desert  his  post  by  flight ;  and,  in  a  tragedy  full  of  the 
hyperboles  of  Roman  patriotism,  it  appears  strange  that  we 


CHAP.  VI.  CINNA  —  POLYEUCTE.  285 

should  be  astonished  at  thai  which  is  the  principle  of  all 
military  honor.  The  words  are  emphatic  in  their  position, 
and  calculated  to  draw  forth  the  actor's  energy :  bur  this  is 
an  artifice  of  no  great  skill ;  and  one  can  hardly  help  think- 
ing, that  a  spectator  in  the  pit  would  spontaneously  have 
anticipated  the  answer  of  a  warlike  father  to  the  feminine 
question,  — 

"Que  vouliez-vous  qu'il  fit  centre  troi9?" 

The  style  of  this  tragedy  is  reckoned  by  the  critics  superior 
to  that  of  the  Cid ;  the  nervousness  and  warmth  of  Corneille 
is  more  displayed;  and  it  is  more  free  from  incorrect  and 
trivial  expression. 

22.  Cinna,  the    next   in    order   of  time,  is  probably  that 
tragedy  of  Corneille  which  would  be  placed  at  the  ^^ 
head   by  a  majority  of  suffrages.      His   eloquence 
reached  here  its  highest  point ;  the  speeches  are  longer,  more 
vivid    in   narration,  more    philosophical   in    argument,  more 
abundant  in  that  strain  of  Roman  energy  which  he  had  de- 
rived chiefly  from  Lucan,  more  emphatic  and  condensed  in 
their  language  and  versification.      But,  as  a  drama,  this  is 
deserving  of  little  praise :  the  characters  of  Cinna  and  Maxi- 
mus  are  contemptible,  that  of  Emilia  is  treacherous  and  un- 
grateful.    She  is  indeed  the  type  of  a  numerous  class  who 
have  followed  her  in  works  of  fiction,  and  sometimes,  unhap- 
pily, in  real  life ;  the  female  patriot,  theoretically,  at  least,  an 
assassin,  but   commonly  compelled,  by  the   iniquity  of  the 
times,  to  console  herself  in  practice  with  safer  transgressions. 
We  have  had  some  specimens ;    and  other  nations,  to  their 
shame  and  sorrow,  have  had  more.     But  even  the  magnani- 
mity of  Augustus,  whom  we  have  not  seen  exposed  to  instant 
danger,  is  uninteresting ;  nor  do  we  perceive  why  he  should 
bestow  his  friendship  as  well  as  his  forgiveness  on  the  de- 
tected traitor  that  cowers  before  him.     It  is   one  of  those 
subjects  which  might,  by  the  invention  of  a  more  complex 
plot  than  history  furnishes,  have  better  excited  the  spectator's 
attention,  but  not  his  sympathy. 

23.  A  deeper  interest  belongs  to  Polyeucte ;  and  this  is  the 
only  tragedy  of  Corneille   wherein   he   affects   the 

heart.    There  is,  indeed,  a  certain  incongruity,  which 
we  cannot  overcome,  between  the  sanctity  of  Christian  martyr- 
dom aud  the  language  of  love,  especially  when  the  latter  is 


286  RODOGUNE  — POMPEY.  PART  HI. 

rather  the  more  prominent  of  the  two  in  the  conduct  of  tne 
drama.1  But  the  beautiful  character  of  Pauline  would  re- 
deem much  greater  defects  than  can  be  ascribed  to  this  tra- 
gedy. It  is  the  noblest,  perhaps,  on  the  Frencli  stage,  and 
conceived  with  admirable  delicacy  and  dignity.2  In  the  style, 
however,  of  Polyeucte,  there  seems  to  be  some  return  towards 
the  languid  tone  of  commonplace  which  had  been  wholly 
thrown  off  in  Cinna.8 

24.  Rodogune  is  said  to  have  been  a  favorite  with  the 
„.  author.     It  can  hardly  be  so  with  the  generality  of 

his  readers.  The  story  has  all  the  atrocity  of  the 
older  school,  from  which  Corneille,  in  his  earlier  plays,  had 
emancipated  the  stage.  It  borders  even  on  ridicule.  Two 
princes,  kept  by  their  mother,  one  of  those  furies  whom  our 
own  Webster  or  Marston  would  have  delighted  to  draw,  in 
ignorance  which  is  the  elder,  and  consequently  entitled  to  the 
throne,  are  enamoured  of  Rodogune.  Their  mother  makes  it 
a  condition  of  declaring  the  succession,  that  they  should  shed 
the  blood  of  this  princess.  Struck  with  horror  at  such  a  pro- 
position, they  refer  their  passion  to  the  choice  of  Rodogune, 
who,  in  her  turn,  demands  the  death  of  tbrir  mother.  The 
embarrassment  of  these  amiable  youths  may  be  conceived. 
La  Harpe  extols  the  fifth  act  of  this  tragedy,  and  it  may  per- 
haps be  effective  in  representation. 

25.  Pompey,  sometimes  inaccurately  called  the  Death  of 
p  Pompey,  is  more  defective  in  construction  than  even 

any  other  tragedy  of  Corneille.  The  hero,  if  Pom- 
pey is  such,  never  appears  on  the  stage ;  and,  his  death  being 
recounted  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  the  real  subject 
of  the  piece,  so  far  as  it  can  be  said  to  have  one,  is  the  pun- 
ishment of  his  assassins ;  a  retribution  demanded  by  the  moral 

1  The  coterie  at  the  Hotel  Rambouillet  cient  to  constitute  an  heroic  character.    It 
thought  that  Polyeucte  would  not  sue-  is  not  the  conduct  of  Pauline,  which,  in 
ceed,  on  account  of  its  religious  character,  every  Christian  or  virtuous  woman,  inu.^t 
Corneille,  it  is  said,  was  about  to  withdraw  naturally  be  the  same,  but  the  fine  senti- 
his  tragedy,  but  was  dissuaded  by  an  actor  ments  and  language  which  accompany  it, 
of  so  little  reputation  that  he  did  not  that,  render  her  part  so  noble. 

even  bear  a  part  in  the  performance.  Fon-  s  In  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act, 

tenelle,  p.  101.  between  Severus  and  Pauline,  two  charac- 

2  Fontenelle  thinks  that  it  shows  "  un  ters  of  the  most  elevated  class,  the  former 
grand  attachement  4  son  devoir,  et  un  quits  the  stage  with  this  line,  — 

grand  caractere  »  in  Pauline  to  desire  that  «  Adien<  trop  Tertuettx  objet,  et  trop  char- 

Severus  should  save  her  husband's  life,  maut  " 

instead  of  procuring  the  latter  to  be  exe- 

cuted   that  she  might  marry  her  lover.  The  latter  replies, — 

Riflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  sect.  16.    This  "  Adieu,  trop  malheureuXj  et  trop  parf&it 

b  rather  an  odd  notion  of  what  is  suffl-  amaut." 


CHAP.  VI.       HERACLIUS  —  NIC01IEDE  —  CORXEILLE.  287 

sense  of  the  spectator,  but  hardly  important  enough  for  dra- 
matic interest.  The  character  of  Caesar  is  somewhat  weak- 
ened by  his  passion  for  Cleopatra,  which  assumes  more  the 
tone  of  devoted  gallantry  than  truth  or  probability  warrants ; 
but  Cornelia,  though  with  borne  Lucanic  extravagance,  is  fuli 
of  a  Roman  nobleness  of  spirit,  which  renders  her,  after  Pau- 
line, but  at  a  long  interval,  the  finest  among  the  female  cha- 
racters of  Corneille.  The  language  is  not  beneath  that  of  his 
earlier  tragedies. 

26.  In  Heraclius  we  begin  to  find  an  inferiority  of  style. 
Few  passagee,  especially  after  the  firs't  act,  are  writ-     Heracliug> 
ten  with  much  vigor;   and  the  plot,  instead  of  the 

faults  we  may  ascribe  to  some  of  the  former  dramas,  a  too 
great  simplicity  and  want  of  action,  offends  by  the  perplexity  of 
its  situations,  and  still  more  by  their  nature ;  since  they  are 
wholly  among  the  proper  resources  of  comedy.  The  true 
and  the  false  Heraclius,  each  uncertain  of  his  paternity,  each 
afraid  to  espouse  one  who  may  pr  may  not  be  his  sister ;  the 
embarrassment  of  Phocas,  equally  irritated  by  both,  but  aware 
that,  in  putting  either  to  death,  he  may  punish  his  own  son ; 
the  art  of  Leontine,  who  produces  this  confusion,  not  by 
silence,  but  by  a  series  of  inconsistent  falsehoods,  —  all  these 
are  in  themselves  ludicrous,  and  such  as  in  comedy  could  pro- 
duce no  other  effect  than  laughter. 

27.  Nicomede  is  generally  placed  by  the  critics  below  He- 
raclius ;  an  opinion  in  which  I  should  hardly  concur. 

The  plot  is  feeble  and  improbable,  but  more  tolerable 
than  the  strange  entanglements  of  Heraclius ;  and  the  spirit 
of  Corneille  shines  out  more  in  the  characters  and  sentiments. 
None  of  his  later  tragedies  deserve  much  notice,  except  that 
we  find  one  of  his  celebrated  scenes  in  Sertorius,  a  drama  of 
little  general  merit.  Nicomede  and  Sertorius  were  both  first 
represented  after  the  middle  of  the  century. 

28.  Voltaire   has   well  distinguished  "the  fine  scenes  of 
Corneille,  and  the  fine  tragedies  of  Racine."     It  can    Fatlltg  and 
perhaps  hardly  be  said,  that,  with  the  exception  of    beauties  of 

TO   1  *u      f  j         j  -i  Corneille. 

Polyeucte,  the  former  has  produced  a  single  play 
which,  taken  as  a  whole,  we  can  commend.  The  keys  of  the 
passions  were  not  given  to  his  custody.  But  in  that  which 
he  introduced  upon  the  French  stage,  and  which  long  con- 
tinued to  be  its  boast,  —  impressive,  energetic  declamation, 
thoughts  masculine,  bold,  and  sometimes  sublime,  conveyed  in 


288       LE  MENTEUR  —  OTHER  FRENCH  TRAGEDIES.     PART  in. 

a  style  for  the  most  part  clear,  condensed,  and  noble,  and 
in  a  rhythm  sonorous  and  satisfactory  to  the  ear,  —  he  has  not 
since  been  equalled.  Lucan,  it  has  always  been  said,  was 
the  favorite  study  of  Corneille.  No  one,  perhaps,  can  admire 
ene  who  has  not  a  strong  relish  for  the  other.  That  the 
tragedian  has  ever  surpassed  the  highest  flights  of  his  Roman 
prototype,  it  might  be  difficult  to  prove :  but,  if  his  fire  is  not 
more  intense,  it  is  accompanied  by  less  smoke;  his  hyper- 
boles, for  such  he  has,  are  less  frequent  and  less  turgid ;  his 
taste  is  more  judicious  ;  he  knows  better,  especially  in  descrip- 
tion, what  to  choose  and  where  to  stop.  Lucan,  however, 
would  have  disdained  the  politeness  of  the  amorous  heroes 
of  Corneille ;  and  though  often  tedious,  often  offensive  to  good 
taste,  is  never  languid  or  ignoble. 

29.  The   first  French  comedy  written  in  polite  language, 
LeMen-       without  low  wit  or  indecency,  is  due  to  Corneille,  or 
teur-          rather,  in  some  degree,  to  the  Spanish  author  whom 
he  copied  in  Le  Menteur.     This  has  been  improved  a  little 
by  Goldoni ;   and  our  own  well-known  farce,  The  Liar,  is 
borrowed   from   both.     The   incidents   are    diverting,  but   it 
belongs  to  the   subordinate  class   of  comedy;   and  a  better 
moral  would  have  been  shown  in  the  disgrace  of  the  principal 
character.     Another  comedy  about  the  same  time,  Le  Pedant 
Joue,  by   Cyrano   de  Bergerac,  had   much  success.     It  has 
been  called  the  first  comedy  in  prose,  and  the  first  wherein 
a  provincial  dialect  is   introduced :    the   remark,  as  to  the 
former  circumstance,  shows  a  forgetfulness  of  Larivey.     Mo- 
liere  has  borrowed  freely  from  this  play. 

30.  The  only  tragedies,  after  those  of  Corneille,  anterior  to 
other         1650,  which   the   French   themselves   hold  worthy 
French       of  remembrance,  are  the  Sophonisbe  of  Mai  ret,  in 

which  some  characters  and  some  passages  are  vigor- 
ously conceived,  but  the  style  is  debased  by  low  and  ludicrous 
thoughts,  which  later  critics  never  fail  to  point  out  with 
severity  ;l  the  Scevole  of  Duryer,  —  the  best  of  several  good 
tragedies,  full  of  lines  of  great  simplicity  in  expression,  but 
which  seem  to  gain  force  through  their  simplicity,  —  by  one 
who,  though  never  sublime,  adopted  with  success  the  severe 
and  reasoning  style  of  Corneille;2  the  Marianne  of  Tristan, 
which,  at  its  appearance  in  1637,  passed  for  a  rival  of  the 
Cid,  and  remained  for  a  century  on  the  stage,  but  is  now 

1  Suard,  ubi  ntprd.  *  Board,  p.  196. 


CHAP.  VI.  WENCESLAS  OF  ROTROU.  289 

ridiculed  for  a  style  alternately  turgid  and  ludicrous  ;  and  the 
"Wenceslas  of  Rotrou,  which  had  not  ceased  perhaps  thirty 
years  since  to  be  represented. 

31.  This  tragedy,  the  best  work  of  a  fertile  dramatist,  who 
did  himself  honor  by  a  ready  acknowledgment  of  Wenceslas 
the  superiority  of  Corneille,  instead  of  canvassing  of  K0*1011- 
the  suffrages  of  those  who  always  envy  genius,  is  by  no  means  • 
so  much  below  that  great  master,  as,  in  the  unfortunate 
efforts  of  his  later  years,  he  was  below  himself.  Wenceslas 
was  represented  in  1647.  It  may  be  admitted,  that  Rotrou 
had  conceived  his  plot,  which  is  wholly  original,  in  the  spirit 
of  Corneille :  the  masculine  energy  of  the  sentiments,  the 
delineation  of  bold  and  fierce  passions,  of  noble  and  heroic 
love,  the  attempt  even  at  political  philosophy,  are  copies  of 
that  model.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  in  several  scenes  Rotrou 
must,  out  of  mere  generosity  to  Corneille,  have  determined 
to  outdo  one  of  his  most  exceptionable  passages,  the  consent 
of  Chime  ne  to  espouse  the  Cid.  His  own  curtain  drops  on 
the  vanishing  reluctance  of  his  heroine  to  accept  the  hand 
of  a  monster  whom  she  hated,  and  who  had  just  murdered  her 
lover  in  his  own  brother.  It  is  the  Lady  Anne  of  Shak- 
speare ;  but  Lady  Anne  is  not  a  herpine.  Wenceslas  is  not 
unworthy  of  comparison  with  the  second  class  of  Corneille'* 
tragedies.  But  the  ridiculous  tone  of  language  and  sentiment 
which  the  heroic  romance  had  rendered  popular,  and  from 
which  Corneille  did  not  wholly  emancipate  himself,  often 
appears  in  this  piece  of  Rotrou ;  the  intrigue  is  rather  too 
complex,  in  the  Spanish  style,  for  tragedy  ;  the  diction  seems 
frequently  obnoxious  to  the  most  indulgent  criticism ;  but, 
above  all,  the  story  is  essentially  ill  contrived,  ending  in 
the  grossest  violation  of  poetical  justice  ever  witnessed  on  the 
stage,  the  impunity  and  even  the  triumph  of  one  of  the  worst 
iharacters  that  was  ever  drawn. 


10 


290  ENGLISH  DRAMA.  PART  III. 


SECT.  III. — ON  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA. 

London   Theatres — Shakspeare — Jonson  —  Beaumont   and    Fletcher — Massinger-— 
Other  English  Dramatists 

32.  THE  English  drama  had  been  encouraged  through  the 

reijm   of  Elizabeth   by   increasing   popularity,   not- 

Popularity         .*  ,.  J  •£  f 

of  the  stage  withstanding  the  strenuous  opposition  01  a  party 
Elizabeth  sufficiently  powerful  to  enlist  the  magistracy,  and, 
in  a  certain  measure  the  government,  on  its  side.  A 
progressive  improvement  in  dramatic  writing,  possibly  also, 
though  we  know  less  of  this,  in  the  skill  of  the  actors, 
ennobled,  while  it  kept  alive,  the  public  taste ;  the  crude  and 
insipid  compositions  of  an  Edwards  or  a  Whetstone,  among 
numbers  more  whose  very  names  are  lost,  gave  way  to  the 
real  genius  of  Green  and  Marlowe,  and  after  them  to  Shak- 
speare. 

33.  At  the  beginning  of  this  century,  not  less  than  eleven 
Number  of  regular  play-houses   had   been   erected   in  London 
theatres.      an(j  fa  suburbs' :  several  of  which,  it  appears,  were 
still  in  use  ;  an  order  of  the  ^>rivy  council  in  1 600,  restraining 
the  number  to  two,  being  little  regarded.     Of  these,  the  most 
important  was  that  of  the  Black  Friars,  with  which  another, 
called   the  Globe,  on  the   opposite   side   of  the   river,  was 
connected;   the  same  company  performing  at  the  former  in 
winter,  at  the   latter  in   summer.     This  was  the   company 
of  which  Burbage,  the  best  actor  of  the  day,  was  chief,  and 
to  which  Shakspeare,  who  was  also-  a  proprietor,  belonged. 
Their  names  appear  in  letters  patent,  and  other  legal  instru 
ments.1 

34.  James  was  fond   of  these   amusements,  and   had  en 
Encouraged   couraged  them  in  Scotland.     The  Puritan  influence 
by  James,      which  had  been   sometimes  felt  in  the  council  of 
Elizabeth,  came  speedily  to  an  end ;  though  the  representa- 
tion of  plays  on  Sundays,  a  constant  theme  of  complaint,  but 

1  Shakspeare  probably  retired  from  the  I.  wrote  a  letter  thanking  Shakspeare  foi 

«tage  as  a  performer  soon  after  1*103  :  his  the  compliment  paid  to  him  in  Macbi'th. 

name  appears  among  the  actors  of  Sejanus  Malone,  it  seems,  believed  this :   Mr.  Col 

In  1603,  but  not  among  those  of  Volpone  lier  does  not,  and  probably  most  people 

In  1605.    There  is  a  tradition  that  James  will  be  equally  sceptical.      Collier,  i.  370. 


CHAP.  VI.    GENEKAL  TASTE  FOR  THE  STAGE.        291 

never  wholly  put  down,  was  now  abandoned,  and  is  not  even 
tolerated  by  the  Declaration  of  Sports.  The  several  com- 
panies of  players,  who,  in  her  reign,  had  been  under  the 
nominal  protection  of  some  men  of  rank,  were  now  denomi- 
nated the  servants  of  the  king,  the  queen,  or  other  royal 
personages.1  They  were  relieved  from  some  of  the  vexatious 
control  they  had  experienced,  and  subjected  only  to  the  gentle 
sway  of  the  Master  of  the  Revels.  It  was  his  duty  to  revise 
all  dramatic  works  before  they  were  represented,  to  exclude 
profane  and  unbecoming  language,  and  specially  to  take  care 
that  there  should  be  no  interference  with  matters  of  state. 
The  former  of  these  corrective  functions  must  have  been 
rather  laxly  exercised;  but  there  are  instances  in  which  a 
license  was  refused  on  account  of  very  recent  history  being 
touched  in  a  play. 

35.  The  reigns  of  James  and  Charles  were  the  glory  of 
our  theatre.  Public  applause,  and  the  favor  of  Generai 
princes,  were  well  bestowed  on  those  bright  stars  taste  for 
of  our  literature  who  then  appeared.  In  1623,  when  * 
Sir  Henry  Herbert  became  Master  of  the  Revels,  there  were 
five  companies  of  actors  in  London.  This,  indeed,  is  some- 
thing less  than  at  the  accession  of  James ;  and  the  latest 
historian  of  the  drama  suggests  the  increase  of  Puritanical 
sentiments  as  a  likely  cause  of  tliis  apparent  decline.  But 
we  find  little  reason  to  believe,  that  there  was  any  decline  in 
the  public  taste  for  the  theatre ;  and  it  may  be  as  probable 
an  hypothesis,  that  the  excess  of  competition,  at  the  end  of 
Elizabeth's  reign,  had  rendered  some  undertakings  unprofita- 
ble ;  the  greater  fishes,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  swallowing  up 
the  less.  We  learn  from  Howes,  the  continuator  of  Stow, 
that,  within  sixty  years  before  1631,  seventeen  play-houses  had 
been  built  in  the  metropolis.  These  were  now  larger  and 
more  convenient  than  before.  They  were  divided  into  public 
and  private  :  not  that  the  former  epithet  was  inapplicable  to 
both ;  but  those  styled  public  were  not  completely  roofed,  nor 
well  provided  with  seats,  nor  were  the  performances  by  can- 

1  Collier,  i.  347.     But  the  privilege  of     the   buskin,   were  always  obnoxious    to 


that  they  became  liable  to  be  treated  as  them  to  act  plays  not  only  at  the  usual 

vagrants.     Accordingly  there  were  no  es-  house,  but  in  any  other  part  of  the  king- 

tnblished  theatres  in  any  provincial  city  ;  doin.    Burbage  was  reckoned  tho  best  actor 

and  strollers,  though  dear  to  the  lovers  of  of  his  time,  and  excelled  as  Richard  ill 


292  THEATRES  CLOSED  BY  PARLIAMENT.       PAKT  III 

die-light :  they  resembled  more  the  rude  booths  we  still  see  at 
fairs,  or  the  constructions  in  which  interludes  are  represented 
by  day  in  Italy ;  while  private  theatres,  such  as  that  of  the 
Black  Friars,  were  built  in  nearly  the  present  form.  It  seems 
to  be  the  more  probable  opinion,  that  movable  scenery  was 
unknown  on  these  theatres.  "  It  is  a  fortunate  circumstance," 
Mr.  Collier  has  observed,  "  for  the  poetry  of  our  old  plays, 
that  it  was  so :  the  imagination  of  the  auditor  only  was  ap- 
pealed to ;  and  we  owe  to  the  absence  of  painted  canvas  many 
of  the  finest  descriptive  passages  in  Shakspeare,  his  contem- 
poraries, and  immediate  followers.  The  introduction  of 
scenery  gives  tne  date  to  the  commencement  of  the  decline 
of  our  dramatic  poetry."  In  this  remark,  which  seems  as 
original  as  just,  I  entirely  concur.  Even  in  this  age,  the  pro- 
digality of  our  theatre  in  its  peculiar  boast,  scene-painting,  can 
hardly  keep  pace  with  the  creative  powers  of  Shakspeare :  it 
is  well  that  he  did  not  live  when  a  manager  was  to  estimate 
his  descriptions  by  the  cost  of  realizing  them  on  canvas,  or 
we  might  never  have  stood  with  Lear  on  the  cliffs  of  Dover, 
or  amidst  the  "palaces  of  Venice  with  Shylock  and  Antonio. 
The  scene  is  perpetually  changed  in  our  old  drama,  precisely 
because  it  was  not  changed  at  all.  A  powerful  argument 
might  otherwise  have  been  discovered  in  favor  of  the  unity  of 
place,  that  it  is  very  cheap. 

36.  Charles,  as  we  might  expect,  was  not  less  inclined  to 
this  liberal  pleasure  than  his  predecessors.     It  was 

±  Qcatrcs  _  »  .^  -i-ii  « 

closed  by  to  his  own  cost  that  Prynne  assaulted  the  stage  in 
men^arlia"  nis  immense  volume,  the  Histriomastix.  Even  Mil- 
ton, before  the  foul  spirit  had  wholly  entered  into 
him,  extolled  the  learned  sock  of  Jonson,  and  the  wild  wood- 
notes  of  Shakspeare.  But  these  days  were  soon  to  pass 
away ;  the  ears  of  Prynne  were  avenged :  by  an  order  of  the 
two  houses  of  parliament,  Sept.  2,  1642,  the  theatres  were 
closed  as  a  becoming  measure  during  the  season  of  public1 
calamity  and  impending  civil  war ;  but,  after  some  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  evade  this  prohibition,  it  was  thought  expedient, 
in  the  complete  success  of  the  party  who  had  always  abhorred 
the  drama,  to  put  a  stop  to  it  altogether;  and  another  ordi- 
nance of  Jan.  22,  1648,  reciting  the  usual  objections  to  all 
such  entertainments,  directed  the  theatres  to  be  rendered 
unserviceable.  We  must  refer  the  reader  to  the  valuable 
work  which  has  supplied  the  sketch  of  these  pages  for  further 


CHAP.  VI.      MEKRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR.          293 

knowledge : 1  it  is  more  our  province  to  follow  the  track  of 
those  who  most  distinguished  a  period  so  fertile  in  dramatic 
genius  ;  and  first  that  of  the  greatest  of  them  all. 

37.  Those  who  originally  undertook  to  marshal  the  plays  of 
Shakspeare  according  to  chronological  order,  always  ghakspeare'« 
attending  less  to  internal  evidence  than  to  the  very  Twelfth 

Nitfht 

fallible  proofs  of  publication  they  could  obtain, 
placed  Twelfth  Night  last  of  all,  in  1612  or  1613.  It  after- 
wards rose  a  little  higher  in  the  list;  but  Mr.  Collier  has 
finally  proved  that  it  was  on  the  stage  early  in  1602,  and  was 
at  that  time  chosen,  probably  as  rather  a  new  piece,  for  repre- 
sentation at  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court.2  The  general  style 
resembles,  in  my  judgment,  that  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing, 
which  is  referred  with  probability  to  the  year  1 600.  Twelfth 
Night,  notwithstanding  some  very  beautiful  passages,  and  the 
humorous  absurdity  of  Malvolio,  has  not  the  coruscations  of 
wit,  and  spirit  of  character,  that  distinguish  the  excellent 
comedy  it  seems  to  have  immediately  followed ;  nor  is  the  plot 
nearly  so  well  constructed.  Viola  would  be  more  interesting, 
if  she  had  not  indelicately,  as  well  as  unfairly  towards  Olivia, 
determined  to  win  the  Duke's  heart  before  she  had  seen  him. 
The  part  of  Sebastian  has  all  that  improbabilty  which  belongs 
to  mistaken  identity,  without  the  comic  effect  for  the  sake  of 
which  that  is  forgiven  in  Plautus  and  in  the  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors. 

38.  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  is  that  work  of  Shak- 
speare in  which  he  has  best  displayed  English  man-   Merry 
ners ;  for  though  there  is  something  of  this  in  the   wives  of 
historical  plays,  yet  we  rarely  see  in  them  such  a 
picture  of  actual  life  as  comedy  ought  to  represent.     It  may 
be  difficult  to  say  for  what  cause  he  has  abstained  from  a 
source  of  gayety  whence  his  prolific  invention,  and  keen  eye 
for  the  diversities  of  character,  might  have  drawn  so  much 
The  Masters  Knowell  and  Wellborn,  the  young  gentlemen 
who  spend  their  money  freely  and  make  love  to  rich  widows 
(an  insipid  race  of  personages,  it  must  be  owned),  recur  for 
ever  in  the  old  plays  of  James's  reign ;  but  Shakspeare  threw 

1  I  have  made  no  particular  references  not  entirely  arranged  in  the  most  conve 

to  Mr.  Collier's  double  work,  The  History  nient  manner.    He  seems,  nevertheless,  to 

of  English  Dramatic  Poetry,  and  Annals  have  obligations  to  Dodsley's  preface  to 

of  the  Stage  :   it  will  be  necessary  for  the  his  Collection  of  Old  Plays,  or  rather  per- 

reader  to  make  use  of  his  index  ;   but  few  haps  to  Reed's  edition  of  it. 

books  lately  published  contain  so  much  2  Yol  i.  p.  327. 
valuable  and  original  information,  though 


29  4  MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR.  PART  HL 

an  ideality  over  this  class  of  characters,  the  Bassanios,  the 
Valentines,  the  Gratianos,  and  placed  them  in  scenes  which 
neither  by  dress  nor  manners  recalled  the  prose  of  ordinary 
life.1  In  this  play,  however,  the  English  gentleman,  in  age 
and  youth,  is  brought  upon  the  stage,  slightly  caricatured  in 
Shallow,  and  far  more  so  in  Slender.  The  latter,  indeed,  is  a 
perfect  satire,  and  I  think  was  so  intended,  on  the  brilliant 
youth  of  the  provinces,  such  as  we  may  believe  it  to  have 
been  before  the  introduction  of  newspapers  and  turnpike 
roads ;  awkward  and  boobyish  among  civil  people,  but  at  home 
in  rude  sports,  and  proud  of  exploits  at  which  the  town  would 
laugh,  yet  perhaps  with  more  courage  and  good-nature  than  the 
laughers.  No  doubt  can  be  raised  that  the  family  of  Lucy  is 
ridiculed  in  Shallow  ;  but  those  who  have  had  recourse  to  the 
old  fable  of  the  deer-stealing,  forget  that  Shakspeare  never 
lost  sight  of  his  native  county,  and  went,  perhaps,  every 
summer,  to  Stratford.  It  is  not  impossible  that  some  arro- 
gance of  the  provincial  squires  towards  a  player,  whom,  though 
a  gentleman  by  birth  and  the  recent  grant  of  arms,  they 
might  not  reckon  such,  excited  his  malicious  wit  to  those 
admirable  delineations. 

39.  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  was  first  printed  in 
1602,  but  very  materially  altered  in  a  subsequent  edition.  It 
is  wholly  comic ;  so  that  Dodd,  who  published  the  beauties  of 
Shakspeare,  confining  himself  to  poetry,  says  it  is  the  only 
play  which  afforded  him  nothing  to  extract.  This  play  does 
not  excite  a  great  deal  of  interest;  for  Anne  Page  is  but 
a  sample  of  a  character  not  very  uncommon,  which,  under  a 
garb  of  placid  and  decorous  mediocrity,  is  still  capable  of  pur- 
suing its  own  will.  But,  in  wit  and  humorous  delineation,  no 
other  goes  beyond  it.  If  Falstaff  seems,  as  Johnson  has 
intimated,  to  have  lost  some  of  his  powers  of  merriment,  it  is 
because  he  is  humiliated  to  a  point  where  even  his  invention 
and  impudence  cannot  bear  him  off  victorious.  In  the  first 
acts,  he  is  still  the  same  Jack  Falstaff  of  the  Boar's  Head. 
Jonson's  earliest  comedy,  Every  Man  in  his  Humor,  had  ap- 
peared a  few  years  before  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor- 
they  both  turn  on  English  life  in  the  middle  classes,  and  orx 

i  "No  doubt,"   twyg  Coleridge,   "they  —Table  Talk,  ii.  396.     I  am  not  quite 

(Beaumont  and    Fletcher)    mutated    the  sure  that  I  understand  this  expression; 

ease  of  gentlemanly  conversation  better  but  probably  the  meaning  is  not  very  dif- 

th.-in  Shakspeare,  who  was  unable  not  to  ferent  from  what  I  have  said, 
ba  too  much  associated  to  succeed  in  this." 


CHAP.  VI.       MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE  295 

the  same  passion  of  jealousy.  If,  then,  we  compare  these  two 
productions  of  our  greatest  comic  dramatists,  the  vast  supe- 
riority of  Shakspeare  will  appear  undeniable.  Kitely,  indeed, 
has  more  energy,  more  relief,  more  excuse,  perhaps,  in  what 
might  appear,  to  his  temper,  matter  for  jealousy,  than  the 
wretched,  narrow-minded  Ford ;  he  is  more  of  a  gentleman, 
and  commands  a  certain  degree  of  respect :  but  dramatic  just- 
ice is  better  dealt  upon  Ford  by  rendering  him  ridiculous, 
and  he  suits  better  the  festive  style  of  Shakspeare's  most 
amusing  play.  His  light-hearted  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
drawn  with  more  spirit  than  Dame  Kitely ;  and  the  most 
ardent  admirer  of  Jonson  would  not  oppose  Master  Stephen 
to  Slender,  or  Bobadil  to  Falstaff.  The  other  characters  are 
not  parallel  enough  to  admit  of  comparison:  but  in  their 
diversity  (nor  is  Shakspeare  perhaps  in  any  one  play  more 
fertile)  and  their  amusing  peculiarity,  as  well  as  in  the  con- 
struction and  arrangement  of  the  story,  the  brilliancy  of  the 
wit,  the  perpetual  gayety  of  the  dialogue,  we  perceive  at  once 
to  whom  the  laurel  must  be  given.  Nor  is  this  comparison 
instituted  to  disparage  Jonson,  whom  we  have  praised,  and 
shall  have  again  to  praise  so  highly,  but  to  show  how  much 
Easier  it  was  to  vanquish  the  rest  of  Europe  than  to  contend 
with  Shakspeare. 

40.  Measure  for  Measure,  commonly  referred  to  the  end  of 
1603,  is  perhaps,  after  Hamlet,  Lear,  and  Macbeth,  Measure  for 
ihe  play  in  which  Shakspeare  struggles,  as  it  were,  Measure- 
most  with  the  over-mastering  power  of  his  own  mind ;  the 
depths  and  intricacies  of  being,  which  he  has  searched  and 
sounded  with  intense  reflection,  perplex  and  harass  him ;  his 
personages  arrest  their  course  of  action  to  pour  forth,  in  lan- 
guage the  most  remote  from  common  use,  thoughts  which  few 
could  grasp  in  the  clearest  expression ;  and  thus  he  loses 
something  of  dramatic  excellence  in  that  of  his  contemplative 
philosophy.  The  Duke  is  designed  as  the  representative  of 
this  philosophical  character.  He  is  stern  and  melancholy  by 
temperament,  averse  to  the  exterior  shows  of  power,  and  se- 
cretly conscious  of  some  unfitness  for  its  practical  duties.  The 
subject  is  not  very  happily  chosen,  but  artfully  improved  by 
Shakspeare.  In  most  of  the  numerous  stories  of  a  similar 
nature,  which  before  or  since  his  time  have  been  related,  the 
sacrifice  of  chastity  is  really  made,  and  made  in  vain.  There 
is,  however,  something  too  coarse  and  disgusting  in  such  a 


296  LEAR.  PART  III. 

Btory ;  and  it  would  have  deprived  him  of  a  splendid  exhibi- 
tion of  character.  The  virtue  of  Isabella,  inflexible  and  in- 
dependent of  circumstance,  has  something  veiy  grand  and 
elevated:  yet  one  is  disposed  to  ask,  whether,  if  Claudio  had 
been  really  executed,  the  spectator  would  not  have  gone  away 
with  no  great  affection  for  her ;  and  at  least  we  now  feel  that 
her  reproaches  against  her  miserable  brother,  when  he  clings 
to  life  like  a  frail  and  guilty  being,  are  too  harsh.  There  is 
great  skill  in  the  invention  of  Mariana;  and,  without  this,  the 
story  could  not  have  had  any  thing  like  a  satisfactory  termina- 
tion :  yet  it  is  never  explained  how  the  Duke  had  become 
acquainted  with  this  secret,  and,  being  acquainted  with  it,  how 
he  had  preserved  his  esteem  and  confidence  in  Angelo.  His 
intention,  as  hinted  towards  the  end,  to  marry  Isabella,  is  a 
little  too  commonplace :  it  is  one  of  Shakspeare's  hasty  half- 
thoughts.  The  language  of  this  comedy  is  very  obscure,  and 
the  text  seems  to  have  been  printed  with  great  inaccuracy. 
I  do  not  value  the  comic  parts  highly :  Lucio's  impudent 
profligacy,  the  result  rather  of  sensual  debasement  than  of 
natural  ill  disposition,  is  well  represented ;  but  Elbow  is  a 
very  inferior  repetition  of  Dogberry.  In  dramatic  effect, 
Measure  for  Measure  ranks  high :  the  two  scenes  between 
Isabella  and  Angelo,  that  between  her  and  Claudio,  those 
where  the  Duke  appears  in  disguise,  and  the  catastrophe  iu 
the  fifth  act,  are  admirably  written  and  very  interesting ;  ex- 
cept so  far  as  the  spectator's  knowledge  of  the  two  stratagems 
which  have  deceived  Angelo  may  prevent  him  from  partici- 
pating in  the  indignation  at  Isabella's  imaginary  wrong,  which 
her  lamentations  would  excite.  Several  of  the  circumstances 
and  characters  are  borrowed  from  the  old  play  of  Whetstone, 
Promos  and  Cassandra ;  but  very  little  of  the  sentiments  or 
language.  What  is  good  in  Measure  for  Measure  is  Shak- 
gpeare's  own. 

41.    If  originality  of  invention   did   not  so   much   stamp 
j^  almost  every  play  of  Shakspeare  that  to  name  one 

as  the  most  original  seems  a  disparagement  to 
others,  we  might  say,  that  this  great  prerogative  of  genius 
was  exercised  above  all  in  Lear.  It  diverges  more  from  the 
model  of  regular  tragedy  than  Macbeth  or  Othello,  and  even 
more  than  Hamlet ;  but  the  fable  is  better  constructed  than 
in  the  last  of  these,  and  it  displays  full  as  much  of  the  almost 
superhuman  inspiration  of  the  poet  as  the  other  two.  Lear 


CHAP.  VI.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  297 

himself  is,  perhaps,  the  most  wonderful  of  dramatic  concep- 
tions ;  ideal  to  satisfy  the  most  romantic  imagination,  yet 
idealized  from  the  reality  of  nature.  Shakspeare,  in  prepar- 
ing us  for  the  most  intense  sympathy  with  this  old  man,  first 
abases  him  to  the  ground :  it  is  not  CEdipus,  against  whose 
respected  age  the  gods  themselves  have  conspired ;  it  is  not 
Orestes,  noble-minded  and  affectionate,  whose  crime  has  been 
virtue ;  it  is  a  headstrong,  feeble,  and  selfish  being,  whom,  in 
the  first  act  of  the  tragedy,  nothing  seems  capable  of  redeem- 
ing in  our  eyes ;  nothing  but  what  follows,  —  intense  woe, 
unnatural  wrong.  Then  comes  on  that  splendid  madness, 
not  absurdly  sudden,  as  in  some  tragedies,  but  in  which  the 
strings  that  keep  his  reasoning  power  together  give  way  one 
after  the  other  in  the  frenzy  of  rage  and  grief.  Then  it  is 
that  we  find,  what  in  life  may  sometimes  be  seen,  the  intellec- 
tual energies  grow  stronger  in  calamity,  and  especially  under 
wrong.  An  awful  eloquence  belongs  to  unmerited  suffering. 
Thoughts  burst  out,  more  profound  than  Lear  in  his  prosper- 
ous hour  could  ever  have  conceived ;  inconsequent,  for  such  is 
the  condition  of  madness,  but  in  themselves  fragments  of 
coherent  truth,  the  reason  of  an  unreasonable  mind. 

42.  Timon  of  Athens  is  cast,  as  it  were,  in  the  same  mould 
as  Lear  :  it  is  the  same  essential  character,  the  same  Timon  of 
generosity  more  from  wanton  ostentation  than  love  Athens- 
of  others,  the  same  fierce  rage  under  the  smart  of  ingratitude, 
the  same  rousing  up  in  that  tempest  of  powers  that  had  slum- 
bered uasuspected  in  some  deep  recess  of  the  soul ;  for,  had 
Timon  or  Lear  known  that  philosophy  of  human  nature  in 
their  calmer  moments  which  fury  brought  forth,  they  would 
never  have  had  such  terrible  occasion  to  display  it.  The 
thoughtless  confidence  of  Lear  in  his  children  has  something 
in  it  far  more  touching  than  the  self-beggary  of  Timon ; 
though  both  one  and  the  other  have  prototypes  enough  in 
real  life.  And  as  we  give  the  old  king  more  of  our  pity,  so  a 
more  intense  abhorrence  accompanies  his  daughters  and  the 
evil  characters  of  tliat  drama,  than  we  spare  for  the  miserable 
sycophants  of  the  Athenian.  Their  thanklessness  is  antici- 
pated, and  springs  from  the  very  nature  of  their  calling :  it 
verges  on  the  beaten  road  of  comedy.  In  this  play  there  is 
neither  a  female  personage,  except  two  courtezans,  who  hardly 
epeak ;  nor  is  there  any  prominent  character  (the  honest 
steward  is  not  such)  redeemed  by  virtue  enough  to  be  estima- 


298  LEAR  AND  TIMOff.  PART  III 

ble ;  for  the  cynic  Apemantus  is  but  a  cynic,  and  ill  replaces 
the  noble  Kent  of  the  other  drama.  The  fable,  if  fable  it  can 
be  called,  is  so  extraordinarily  deficient  in  action,  a  fault  of 
which  Shakspeare  is  not  guilty  in  any  other  instance,  that  we 
may  wonder  a  little  how  he  should  have  seen  in  the  single 
delineation  of  Timon  a  counterbalance  for  the  manifold  objec- 
tions to  this  subject.  But  there  seems  to  have  been  a  period 
of  Shakspeare's  life  when  his  heart  was  ill  at  ease,  and  ill 
content  with  the  world  or  his  own  conscience ;  the  memory  of 
hours  misspent,  the  pang  of  affection  misplaced  or  unrequited, 
the  experience  of  man's  worser  nature  which  intercourse  with 
unworthy  associates,  by  choice  or  circumstance,  peculiarly 
teaches,  —  these,  as  they  sank  down  into  the  depths  of  his 
great  mind,  seem  not  only  to  have  inspired  into  it  the  concep- 
tion of  Lear  and  Timon,  but  that  of  one  primary  character, 
the  censurer  of  mankind.  This  type  is  first  seen  in  the  philo- 
sophic melancholy  of  Jaques,  gazing  with  an  undiminished 
serenity,  and  with  a  gayety  of  fancy,  though  not  of  manners, 
on  the  follies  of  the  world.  It  assumes  a  graver  cast  in  the 
exiled  Duke  of  the  same  play,  and  next  one  rather  more 
severe  in  the  Duke  of  Measure  for  Measure.  In  all  these, 
however,  it  is  merely  contemplative  philosophy.  In  Hamlet 
this  is  mingled  with  the  impulses  of  a  perturbed  heart  under 
the  pressure  of  extraordinary  circumstances ;  it  shines  no 
longer  as  in  the  former  characters,  with  a  steady  light,  but 
plays  in  fitful  coruscations  amidst  feigned  gayety  and  extrava- 
gance. In  Lear  it  is  the  flash  of  sudden  inspiration  across 
the  incongruous  imagery  of  madness ;  in  Timon  it  is  obscured 
by  the  exaggerations  of  misanthropy.  These  plays  all  belong 
to  nearly  the  same  period;  As  You  Like  It  being  usually 
referred  to  1600,  Hamlet,  in  its  altered  form,  to  about  1602, 
Timon  to  the  same  year,  Measure  for  Measure  to  1603,  and 
Lear  to  1604.  In  the  later  plays  of  Shakspeare,  especially 
in  Macbeth  and  the  Tempest,  much  of  moral  speculation  will 
be  found ;  but  he  has  never  returned  to  this  type  of  character 
in  the  personages.  Timon  is  less  read  and  less  pleasing  than 
the  great  majority  of  Shakspeare's  plays;  but  it  abounds  with 
signs  of  his  genius.  Schlegel  observes,  that,  of  all  his  works, 
it  is  that  which  has  most  satire ;  comic  in  representation  of 
the  parasites,  indignant  and  Juvenalian  in  the  bursts  of  Timon 
himself. 

43.  Pericles  is  generally  reckoned  to  be  in  part,  and  only  in 


CHAP.  VL  PERICLES.  299 

part,  the  work  of  Shakspeare.  From  the  poverty  and  bad 
management  of  the  fable,  the  want  of  any  effective  or  Pericleg 
distinguishable  character  (for  Marina  is  no  more  than 
the  common  form  of  female  virtue,  such  as  all  the  dramatists 
of  that  age  could  draw),  and  a  general  feebleness  of  the  tra- 
gedy as  a  whole,  I  should  not  believe  the  structure  to  have 
been  Shakspeare's.  But  many  passages  are  far  more  in  his 
manner  than  in  that  of  any  contemporary  writer  with  whom 
I  am  acquainted ;  and  the  extrinsic  testimony,  though  not 
conclusive,  being  of  some  value.  I  should  not  dissent  from  the 
judgment  of  Steevens  and  Malone,  that  it  was,  in  no  incon- 
siderable degree,  repaired  and  improved  by  his  touch.  Drake 
has  placed  it  under  the  year  1590,  as  the  earliest  of  Shak 
speare's  plays,  for  no  better  reason,  apparently,  than  that  he 
thought  it  inferior  to  all  the  rest.  But  if,  as  most  will  agree, 
it  were  not  quite  his  own,  this  reason  will  have  less  weight ; 
and  the  language  seems  to  me  rather  that  of  his  second  or 
third  manner  than  of  his  first.  Pericles  is  not  known  to  have 
existed  before  1 609. 

44.  The  majority  of  readers,  I  believe,  assign  to  Macbeth, 
which  seems  to  have  been  written  about  1606,  the  pre-emi- 
nence  among   the   works   of  Shakspeare :     many,   however, 
would  rather  name  Othello,  one  of  his  latest,  which  is  referred 
to  1611 ;  and  a  few  might  prefer  Lear  to  either.     The  great 
epic  drama,  as  the  first  may  be  called,  deserves,  in  my  own 
judgment,  the  post  it  has  attained ;  as  being,  in  the  language 
of  Drake,   "  the    greatest   effort  of  our  author's  genius,  the 
most  sublime  and  impressive  drama  which  the  world  has  ever 
beheld."    It  will  be  observed,  that  Shakspeare  had  now  turned 
his  mind  towards  the  tragic  drama.     No  tragedy  but  Romeo 
and  Juliet  belongs  to  the  sixteenth   century :    ten,  without 
counting  Pericles,  appeared  in  the  first  eleven  years  of  the 
present.     It  is  not  my  design  to  distinguish  each  of  his  plays 
separately ;  and  it  will  be  evident  that  I  pass  over  some  of 
the  greatest.     Xo  writer,  in  fact,  is  so  well  known  as  Shak- 
speare,  or  has  been  so  abundantly,  and,  on  the  whole,  so  ably 
criticised :  I  might  have  been  warranted  in  saying  even  less 
than  I  have  done. 

45.  Shakspeare  was,  as  I  believe,  conversant  with  the  bet- 
ter class  of  English  literature  which  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
afforded.     Among  other  books,  the  translation  by  North  of 
Amyot's  Plutarch  seems  to  have  fallen  into  his  hands  about 


300  JULIUS  O1SAR  — CORIOLANUS.  PART  III. 

1607.  It  was  the  source  of  three  tragedies  founded  on  the 
lives  of  Brutus,  Antony,  and  Coriolanus ;  the  first 
tragedies,  bearing  the  name  of  Julius  Caesar.  In  this  the  plot 
Julius  wants  even  that  historical  unity  which  the  romantic 
sar'  drama  requires ;  the  third  and  fourth  acts  are  ill 
connected ;  it  is  deficient  in  female  characters,  and  in  that 
combination  which  is  generally  apparent  amidst  all  the  intri- 
cacies of  his  fable.  But  it  abounds  in  fine  scenes  and  fine 
passages :  the  spirit  of  Plutarch's  Brutus  is  well  seized,  the 
predominance  of  Caesar  himself  is  judiciously  restrained,  the 
characters  have  that  individuality  which  Shakspeare  seldom 
misses ;  nor  is  there,  perhaps,  in  the  whole  range  of  ancient 
and  modern  eloquence  a  speech  more  fully  realizing  the  per- 
fection that  orators  have  striven  to  attain  than  that  of  Antony. 

46.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  of  rather  a  different  order; 
Antony  and  it  does  not  furnish,  perhaps,  so  many  striking  beau- 
cieopatra.    ^jes  ^  fae  jas^  ^u^  jg  a^  \east  equally  redolent  of  the 
genius  of  Shakspeare.     Antony,  indeed,  was  given  him  by 
history ;  and  he  has  but  embodied  in  his  own  vivid  colors  the 
irregular  mind  of  the  Triumvir,  ambitious  and  daring  against 
all  enemies  but  himself.     In  Cleopatra  he  had  less  to  guide 
him :  she  is  another  incarnation  of  the  same  passions,  more 
lawless  and  insensible  to  reason  and  honor  as  they  are  found 
in  women.     This  character  being  not  one  that  can  please, 
its  strong  and  spirited  delineation  has  not  been  sufficiently 
observed.    It  has,  indeed,  only  a  poetical  originality:  the  type 
was  in  the  courtezan  of  common  life  ;  but  the  resemblance  is 
that  of  Michael  Angelo's  Sibyls  to  a  muscular  woman.     In 
this  tragedy,  like  Julius  Caesar,  as  has  been  justly  observed 
by  Schlegel,  the  events  that  do  not  pass  on  the  stage  are 
scarcely  made  clear  enough  to  one  who  is  not  previously 
acquainted  with  history,  and  some  of  the  persons  appear  and 
vanish    again   without   sufficient   reason.      He   has,   in   fact, 
copied  Plutarch  too  exactly. 

47.  This  fault  is  by  no  means  discerned  in  the  third  Roman 
Corioianua    trage<ty  °f  Shakspeare,  —  Coriolanus.      He  luckily 

found  an  intrinsic  historical  unity  which  he  could 
not  have  destroyed,  and  which  his  magnificent  delineation  of 
the  chief  personage  has  thoroughly  maintained.  Coriolanus 
himself  has  the  grandeur  of  sculpture :  his  proportions  are 
colossal ;  nor  would  less  than  this  transcendent  superiority,  by 
which  he  towers  over  his  fellow-citizens,  warrant,  or  seem  for 


CHAP.  VI.     SHAKSPEARE'S  KETIROIEXT  AXD  DEATH.  301 

the  moment  to  warrant,  his  haughtiness  and  their  pusillani- 
mity. The  surprising  judgment  of  Shakspeare  is  visible  in 
this.  A  dramatist  of  the  second  class  (for  he  alone  is  in  the 
first),  a  Corneille,  a  Schiller,  or  an  Alfieri,  would  not  have 
lost  the  occasion  of  representing  the  plebeian  form  of  courage 
and  patriotism.  A  tribune  would  have  been  made  to  utter 
noble  speeches,  and  some  critics  would  have  extolled  the 
balance  and  contrast  of  the  antagonist  principles.  And  this 
might  have  degenerated  into  the  general  saws  of  ethics  and 
politics  which  philosophical  tragedians  love  to  pour  forth. 
But  Shakspeare  instinctively  perceived,  that  to  render  the 
arrogance  of  Coriolanus  endurable  to  the  spectator,  or  dra- 
matically probable,  he  must  abase  the  plebeians  to  a  con- 
temptible populace.  The  sacrifice  of  historic  truth  is  often 
necessary  for  the  truth  of  poetry.  The  citizens  of  early 
Rome,  rusticorum  mascula  militum  proles,  are  indeed  calum- 
niated in  his  scenes,  and  might  almost  pass  for  burgesses  of 
Stratford ;  but  the  unity  of  emotion  is  not  dissipated  by  con- 
tradictory energies.  Coriolanus  is  less  rich  in  poetical  style 
than  the  other  two,  but  the  comic  parts  are  full  of  humor.  In 
these  three  tragedies  it  is  manifest,  that  Roman  character,  and 
still  more  Roman  manners,  are  not  exhibited  with  the  preci 
sion  of  a  scholar ;  yet  there  is  something  that  distinguishes 
them  from  the  rest,  something  of  a  grandiosity  in  the  senti- 
ments and  language,  which  shows  us  that  Shakspeare  had  not 
read  that  history  without  entering  into  its  spirit. 

48.  Othello,  or  perhaps  the  Tempest,  is  reckoned  by  many 
the  latest  of  Shakspeare's  works.  In  the  zenith  of  ^  retire_ 
his  faculties,  in  possession  of  fame  disproportionate,  ment  and 
indeed,  to  what  has  since  accrued  to  his  memory,  but  d 
beyond  that  of  any  contemporary,  at  the  age  of  about  forty- 
seven,  he  ceased  to  write,  and  settled  himself  at  a  distance 
from  all  dramatic  associations  in  his  own  native  town ;  a  home 
of  which  he  had  never  lost  sight,  nor  even  permanently  quit- 
ted, the  birthplace  of  his  children,  and  to  which  he  brought 
what  might  then  seem  affluence  in  a  middle  station,  with  the 
hope,  doubtless,  of  a  secure  decline  into  the  yellow  leaf  of 
years.  But  he  was  cut  off  in  1616,  not  probably  in  the  midst 
of  any  schemes  for  his  own  glory,  but  to  the  loss  of  those 
enjoyments  which  he  had  accustomed  himself  to  value  beyond 
it.  His  descendants,  it  is  well  known,  became  extioct  in  little 
more  than  hah1"  a  century. 


302  SHAKSPEAKE'S  GENIUS.  PART  III. 

49.  The  name  of  Shakspeare  is  the  greatest  in  our  litera- 
ture, —  it  is  the  greatest  in  all  literature.     No  man 

tireatnisss  .,..•• 

of  his  ever  came  near  to  him  in  the  creative  powers  of  the 
gemus.  mmd ;  no  man  had  ever  such  strength  at  once,  and 
such  variety  of  imagination.  Coleridge  has  most  felicitously 
applied  to  him  a  Greek  epithet,  given  before  to  I  know  not 
whom,  certainly  none  so  deserving  of  it,  pvpiavavc,  the  thou- 
sand-souled  Shakspeare.1  The  number  of  characters  in  his 
plays  is  astonishingly  great,  without  reckoning  those  who, 
although  transient,  have  often  their  individuality,  all  distinct, 
all  types  of  human  life  in  well-defined  differences.  Yet  he 
never  takes  an  abstract  quality  to  embody  it,  scarcely  perhaps 
a  definite  condition  of  manners,  as  Jonson  does ;  nor  did  he 
draw  much,  as  I  conceive,  from  living  models :  there  is  no 
manifest  appearance  of  personal  caricature  in  his  comedies, 
though  in  some  slight  traits  of  character  this  may  not  impro- 
bably have  been  the  case.  Above  all,  neither  he  nor  his  con- 
temporaries wrote  for  the  stage  in  the  worst,  though  most 
literal,  and  of  late  years  the  most  usual,  sense ;  making  the 
servants  and  handmaids  of  dramatic  invention  to  lord  over  it, 
and  limiting  the  capacities  of  the  poet's  mind  to  those  of  the 
performers.  If  this  poverty  of  the  representative  depart- 
ment of  the  drama  had  hung  like  an  incumbent  fiend  on  the 
creative  power  of  Shakspeare,  how  would  he  have  poured 
forth  with  such  inexhaustible  prodigality  the  vast  diversity  of 
characters  that  we  find  in  some  of  his  plays  ?  This  it  is  in 
which  he  leaves  far  behind  not  the  dramatists  alone,  but  all 
writers  of  fiction.  Compare  with  him  Homer,  the  tragedians 
of  Greece,  the  poets  of  Italy,  Plautus,  Cervantes,  Moliere, 
Addison,  Le  Sage,  Fielding,  Richardson,  Scott,  the  romancers 
of  the  elder  or  later  schools,  —  one  man  has  far  more  than 
surpassed  them  all.  Others  may  have  been  as  sublime,  others 
may  have  been  more  pathetic,  others  may  have  equalled  him 
in  grace  and  purity  of  language,  and  have  shunned  some  of 
its  faults ;  but  the  philosophy  of  Shakspeare,  his  intimate 
searching  out  of  the  human  heart,  whether  in  the  gnomic 
form  of  sentence  or  in  the  dramatic  exhibition  of  character, 
is  a  gift  peculiarly  his  own.  It  is,  if  not  entirely  wanting, 
very  little  manifested  in  comparison  with  him,  by  the  English 

i  Table  Talk,  vol.  ii.  p.  301.    Coleridge    KVLW.TUV  avf/piduov  y&aaua.  will  pr 

s±ff±fwsf?*f  iSffra  •£*: "** 

sense  cf   multitudinous  unity,  irovTiuv 


CHAP.  VI.  HIS  JUDGMENT.  303 

dramatists  of  his  own  and  the  subsequent  period,  whom  we 
are  about  to  approach. 

50.  These  dramatists,  as  we  shall  speedily  perceive,  are 
hardly  less  inferior  to  Shakspeare  in  judgment.     To   ma  judg- 
this  quality  I  particularly  advert,  because  foreign   ment- 
writers,  and  sometimes  our  own,  have  imputed  an  extraordi- 
nary barbarism  and  rudeness  to  his  works.     They  belong, 
indeed,  to  an  age  sufficiently  rude  and  barbarous  in  its  enter- 
tainments, and  are  of  course  to  be  classed  with  what  is  called 
the  romantic  school,   which  has  hardly  yet  shaken  off  that 
reproach.     But  no  one  who  has  perused  the  plays  anterior  to 
those  of  Shakspeare,  or  contemporary  with  them,  or  subse- 
quent to  them,  down  to  the  closing  of  the  theatres  in  the  civil 
war,  will  pretend  to  deny  that  there  is  far  less  regularity,  in 
regard  to  every  thing  where  regularity  can  be  desired,  in  a 
large  proportion  of  these  (perhaps  in  all  the  tragedies)  than 
in  his  own.    We  need  only  repeat  the  names  of  the  Merchant 
of  Venice,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Macbeth,  Othello,  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  Measure  for  Measure.    The  plots  in  these 
are  excellently  constructed,  and  in  some  with  uncommon  arti- 
fice.    But,  even  where  an  analysis  of  the  story  might  excite 
criticism,  there  is  generally  an  unity  of  interest  which  tones 
the  whole.     The  Winter's  Tale  is  not  a  model  to  follow ;   but 
we  feel  that  the  Winter's  Tale  is  a  single  story :    it  is  even 
managed  as  such  with  consummate  skill.     It  is  another  proof 
of  Shakspeare's  judgment,  that  he  has  given  action  enough 
to  his  comedies,  without  the  bustling  intricacy  of  the  Spanish 
stage.     If  his  plots  have  any  little  obscurity  in  some  parts,  it 
is  from  copying  his  novel  or  history  too  minutely. 

51.  The  idolatry  of  Shakspeare  has  been  carried  so  far  of 
late  years,  that  Drake  and  perhaps  greater  authorities  have 
been  unwilling  to  acknowledge  any  faults  in  his  plays.     This, 
however,  is  an  extravagance  rather  derogatory  to  the  critic 
than  honorable  to  the  poet.     Besides  the  blemishes  of  con- 
struction in  some  of  his  plots,  which  are  pardonable,  but  still 
blemishes,  there  are  too  many  in  his  style.     His  conceits  and 
quibbles  often  spoil  the  effect  of  his  scenes,  and  take  off  from 
the  passion  he  would  excite.     In  the  last  act  of  Richard  II., 
the  Duke  of  York  is  introduced  demanding  the  punishment  of 
his  son  Aumale  for  a  conspiracy  against  the  king,  while  the 
Duchess  implores  mercy.      The  scene   is   ill    conceived  and 
worse  executed  throughout ;   but  one  line  is  both   atrocious 


304  SHAKSPEARE'S  BLEMISHES.  PART  IIL 

and  contemptible.  The  Duchess  having  dwelt  on  the  word 
pardon,  and  urged  the  king  to  let  her  hear  it  from  his  lips, 
York  takes  her  up  with  this  stupid  quibble :  — 

"  Speak  it  in  French,  King ;  say,  Pardonnez-moi." 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  several  other  instances, 
though  none,  perhaps,  quite  so  bad,  of  verbal  equivocations, 
misplaced  and  inconsistent  with  the  person's,  the  author's,  the 
reader's  sentiment. 

52.  Few  will  defend  these  notorious  faults.  But  is  there 
ES  obscu-  not  one,  less  frequently  mentioned,  yet  of  more  con- 
**•  tinual  recurrence, — the  extreme  obscurity  of  Shak- 

speare's  diction  ?  His  style  is  full  of  new  words  and  new 
senses.  It  is  easy  to  pass  this  over  as  obsoleteness :  but 
though  many  expressions  are  obsolete,  and  many  provincial ; 
though  the  labor  of  his  commentators  has  never  been  so  pro- 
fitably, as  well  as  so  diligently,  employed  as  in  tracing  this  by 
the  help  of  the  meanest  and  most  forgotten  books  of  the  age, — 
it  is  impossible  to  deny,  that  innumerable  lines  in  Shakspeare 
were  not  more  intelligible  in  his  time  than  they  are  at  present. 
Much  of  this  may  be  forgiven,  or  rather  is  so  incorporated 
with  the  strength  of  his  reason  and  fancy,  that  we  love  it  as 
the  proper  body  of  Shakspeare's  soul.  Still,  can  we  justify 
the  very  numerous  passages  which  yield  to  no  interpretation, 
knots  which  are  never  unloosed,  which  conjecture  does  but 
cut,  or  even  those  which,  if  they  may  at  last  be  understood, 
keep  the  attention  in  perplexity  till  the  first  emotion  has 
passed  away  ?  And  these  occur  not  merely  in  places  where 
the  struggles  of  the  speaker's  mind  may  be  well  denoted  by 
some  obscurities  of  language,  as  in  the  soliloquies  of  Hamlet 
and  Macbeth,  but  in  dialogues  between  ordinary  personages, 
and  in  the  business  of  the  play.  "We  learn  Shakspeare,  in  fact, 
as  we  learn  a  language,  or  as  we  read  a  difficult  passage  in 
Greek,  with  the  eye  glancing  on  the  commentary ;  and  it  is 
only  after  much  study  that  we  come  to  forget  a  part,  it  can  bo 
but  a  part,  of  the  perplexities  he  has  caused  us.  This  was 
no  doubt  one  reason  that  he  was  less  read  formerly ;  his  style 
passing  for  obsolete,  though  in  many  parts,  as  we  have  just 
said,  it  was  never  much  more  intelligible  than  it  is.1 

1  "  Shakspeare's  style  is  so  pestered  with  part  ii.  p.  252.    This  is  by  no  means  the 
figurative  expressions  that  it  is  as  affected  truth,  but  rather  the  reverse  of  it.    Dry- 
as  it  is  obscure.     It  is  true  that  in  his  lat-  den  knew  not  at  all  which  were  earlier, 
ter  plays  he  had  worn  off  somewhat  of  this  or  which  later,  of  Shakspeare's  plays, 
rust  "  —  DrydeiTs  Works  (Malone),  vol.  ii. 


CHAP.  YI.  HIS  COMMENTATORS.  305 

53.  It  does  not  appear  probable,  that  Shakspeare  was  ever 
placed  below,  or  merely  on  a  level  with,  the  other  BJS  popn- 
dramatic  writers  of  this   period.1     That   his   plays   1*ritJ"- 
were  not  so  frequently  represented  as  those  of  Fletcher,  is 
little  to  the  purpose :  they  required  a  more  expensive  decora- 
tion, a  larger  company  of  good  performers,  and,  above  all, 
they  were  less  intelligible  to  a  promiscuous  audience.     Yet  it 
is  certain,  that  throughout  the  seventeenth  century,  and  even 
in  the  writings  of  Addison  and  his  contemporaries,  we  seldom 
or  never  meet  with  that  complete  recognition  of  his  supre- 
macy, that  unhesitating  preference  of  him  to  all  the  world, 
which  has  become  the  faith  of  the  last  and  the  present  cen- 
tury.    And  it  is  remarkable,  that  this  apotheosis,  so  to  speak, 
of  Shakspeare.  was  originally  the  work  of  what  has  been 
styled  a  frigid  and  tasteless  generation,  the  age  of  George  II. 
Much  is  certainly  due  to  the  stage  itself,  when  those  appeared 
who  could  guide  and  control  the  public  taste,  and  discover 
that  in  the  poet  himself  which  sluggish  imaginations  could  not 
have  reached.     The  enthusiasm  for  Shakspeare  is  nearly  coin- 
cident with  that  for  Garrick :  it  was  kept  up  by  his  followers, 
and  especially  by  that  highly  gifted  family  which  has  but 
recently  been  withdrawn  from  our  stage. 

54.  Among  the  commentators  on  Shakspeare,  TTarburton, 
always  striving  to  display  his  own  acuteness,  and  critics  on 
scorn  of  others,  deviates  more  than   any  one    else  Shakspeare. 
from  the  meaning.     Theobald  was  the  first  who  did  a  little. 
Johnson  explained  much  well ;  but  there  is  something  magis- 
terial in  the  manner  wherein  he  dismisses  each  play  like  a 
boy's  exercise,  that   irritates    the   reader.     His   criticism   is 
frequently  judicious,  but  betrays   no   ardent   admiration   for 
Shakspeare.     Malone  and  Steevens  were  two  laborious  com- 

1  A  certain  William  Cartwright,  in  com-  for  Shakgpeare,  admits  that  "  he  wag  the 

tnendatory  verses  addressed  to  Fletcher,  man  who,  of  all  modern  and  perhaps  an- 

has  the  assurance  to  say,  —  cient  poets,  had  the  largest  and  most  com- 

•  Shakspeare  to  thee  was  dull,  whose  best  *£%*  ^11  •jJ^J-J-J-. 

P  VMW  questions  and  the  fools'  SKLKS^S^SStaS 

it.  yon  feel  it  too.    Those  who  accuse  him 

But  the  suffrage  of  Jonson  himself,   of  to    have  wanted  learning  give  him   the 

Milton,  and  of  many  more  that  might  be  greater  commendation  :  he  was  naturally 

quoted,   tends  to  prove  that  his  genius  learned  ;  he  needed  not  the  spectacles  of 

was  esteemed  beyond  that  of  any  other,  books  to  read  Nature ;  he  looked  inwards, 

though  some  might  compare  inferior  wri-  and  found  her  there." — Dryden's  Pros* 

ten  to  him  in  certain  qualifications  of  the  Works  (Malone '«  edition),  vol.  I.  part  E. 

dramatist.     Even  Dryden.  who  came  in  a  p.  99. 
worse  period,  and  had  no  undue  reverence 

VOL.  m.  20 


306  BEN  JONSON.  PART  III. 

mentators  on  the  meaning  of  words  and  phrases ;  one  dull, 
the  other  clever :  but  the  dulness  was  accompanied  by  candor 
and  a  love  of  truth ;  the  cleverness,  by  a  total  absence  of  both. 
Neither  seems  to  have  had  a  full  discernment  of  Shakspeare'g 
genius.  The  numerous  critics  of  the  last  age  who  were  not 
editors  have  poured  out  much  that  is  trite  and  insipid,  much 
that  is  hypercritical  and  erroneous ;  yet  collectively  they  not 
only  bear  witness  to  the  public  taste  for  the  poet,  but  taught 
men  to  judge  and  feel  more  accurately  than  they  would  have 
done  for  themselves.  Hurd  and  Lord  Kaimes,  especially  the 
former,  may  be  reckoned  among  the  best  of  this  class ; l  Mrs. 
Montagu,  perhaps,  in  her  celebrated  Essay,  not  very  far  from 
the  bottom  of  the  list.  In  the.  present  century,  Coleridge  and 
Schlegel,  so  nearly  at  the  same  time  that  the  question  of 
priority  and  even  plagiarism  has  been  mooted,  gave  a  more 
philosophical,  and  at  the  same  time  a  more  intrinsically  exact, 
view  of  Shakspeare  than  their  predecessors.  What  has  since 
been  written  has  often  been  highly  acute  and  aesthetic,  but 
occasionally  with  an  excess  of  refinement  which  substitutes 
the  critic  for  the  work.  Mrs.  Jameson's  Essays  on  the  Fe- 
male Characters  of  Shakspeare  are  among  the  best.  It  was 
right  that  this  province  of  illustration  should  be  reserved  for 
a  woman's  hand. 

55.  Ben  Jonson,  so  generally  known  by  that  familiar 
description  that  some  might  hardly  recognize  him 
>n>  without  it,  was  placed  next  to  Shakspeare  by  his  own 
age.  They  were  much  acquainted,  and  belonged  to  the  oldest, 
perhaps,  and  not  the  worst  of  clubs,  formed  by  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  about  the  beginning  of  the  century,  which  met  at  the 
Mermaid  in  Friday  Street.  We  may  easily  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  one  of  its  members,  that  it  was  a  feast  of  the  most 
subtle  and  brilliant  wit.2  Jonson  had  abundant  powers  of 
poignant  and  sarcastic  humor,  besides  extensive  reading ;  and 
Shakspeare  must  have  brought  to  the  Mermaid  the  brightness 
of  his  fancy.  Selden  and  Camden,  the  former  in  early  youth, 
are  reported  to  have  given  the  ballast  of  their  strong  sense 

1  Hard,  in  his  notes  on  Horace's  Art  maintains  the  obvious  construction  of 
of  Poetry,  vol.  i.  p.  52,  has  some  very  that  passage :  "  Notum  si  callida  verbuin 
good  remarks  on  the  diction  of  Shakspeare,  Keddiaerit  juncture  novum."  That  pro- 
suggested  by  the  caUida  junctura  of  the  posed  by  Lauibinus  and  Beattie,  which 
Roman  poet,  illustrated  by  many  instances,  begins  with  noiitm,  is  inadmissible,  and 
These  remarks  both  serve  to  bring  out  the  gives  a  worse  sense. 

skill  of  Shakspeare,  and  to  explain  the  s  Gifford'i  Life  of  Jonson,  p.  65 ;  Colltor, 

disputed  passage  in  Horace.    Hurd  justly  iii.  275 


CHAP.  VI.  THE  ALCHEMIST  —  VOLPONE.  307 

and  learning  to  this  cluster  of  poets.  There  has  been,  how- 
ever, a  prevalent  tradition  that  Jonson  was  not  without  some 
malignant  and  envious  feelings  towards  Shakspeare.  Gifford 
has  repelled  this  imputation  with  considerable  success,  though 
we  may  still  suspect  that  there  was  something  caustic  and 
saturnine  in  the  temper  of  Jonson. 

56.  The  Alchemist  is  a  play  which  long  remained  on  the 
stage,  though  I  am  not  sure  that  it  has  been  represent-  TheAiche- 
ed   since  the  days  of  Garrick,  who  was  famous  in  n"8*- 
Abel  Drugger.     Notwithstanding  the  indiscriminate  and  inju- 
dicious panegyric  of  Gifford,  I  believe  there  is  no  reader  of 
taste  but  will  condemn  the   outrageous   excess  of  pedantry 
with  which  the  first  acts  of  this  play  abound ;  pedantry  the 
more  intolerable,  that  it  is  not  even  what,  however  unfit  for 
the  English  stage,  scholars  might  comprehend,  but  the  gibber- 
ish of  obscure   treatises   on   alchemy,   which,   whatever  the 
commentators  may  choose  to  say,  was  as  unintelligible  to  all  but 
a  few  half-witted  dupes  of  that  imposture  as  it  is  at  present. 
Much  of  this,  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt,  was  omitted  in 
representation.     Nor  is  his  pedantic  display  of  learning  con- 
fined to  the  part  of  the  Alchemist,  who  had  certainly  a  right  to 
talk  in  the  style  of  his  science,  if  he  had  done  it  with  some 
moderation.     Sir   Epicure   Mammon,   a   worldly   sensualist, 
placed  in  the  author's  own  age,  pours  out  a  torrent  of  glutton- 
ous cookery  from  the  kitchens  of  Heliogabalus  and  Apicius  i 
his  dishes  are  to  be  camels'  heels,  the  beards  of  barbels  and 
dissolved  pearl,  crowning  all  with  the  paps  of  a  sow.     But, 
while  this  habitual  error  of  Jonson's  vanity  is  not  to  be  over- 
looked, we  may  truly  say,  that  it  is  much  more  than  compen- 
sated by  the  excellences  of  this  comedy.     The  plot,  with  great 
simplicity,  is  continually  animated  and  interesting;    the  cha- 
"acters  are  conceived  and  delineated  with  admirable  boldness, 
truth,  spirit,  and  variety ;   the  humor,  especially  in  the  two 
Puritans,  a  sect  who  now  began  to  do  penance  on  the  stage,  is 
amusing ;  the  language,  when  it  does  not  smell  too  much  of 
book-learning,  is  forcible  and  clear.     The  Alchemist  is  one 
of  the  three  plays  which  usually  contest  the  superiority  among 
those  of  Jonson. 

57.  The  second  of  these  is  The  Fox,  which,  according  to 
general  opinion,  has  been  placed  above  the  Alche-  voipone,  op 
mist.      Notwithstanding   the   dissent   of   Gifford,  I  TheFo1- 
should  concur  in  this  suffrage.     The  fable  belongs  to  a  higher 


808  THE  SILENT  WOMAN.  I'ART  III. 

class  of  comedy.  Without  minutely  inquiring  whether  the 
Roman  hunters  after  the  inheritance  of  the  rich,  so  well  de- 
scribed by  Horace,  and  especially  the  costly  presents  by  which 
they  endeavored  to  secure  a  better  return,  are  altogether 
according  to  the  manners  of  Venice,  where  Jonson  has  laid  his 
scene,  we  must  acknowledge,  that  he  has  displayed  the  base 
cupidity,  of  which  there  will  never  be  wanting  examples 
among  mankind,  in  such  colors  as  all  other  dramatic  poetry 
can  hardly  rival.  Cumberland  has  blamed  the  manner  in 
which  Volpone  brings  ruin  on  his  head  by  insulting,  in  dis- 
guise, those  whom  he  had  duped.  In  this,  I  agree  with  Gif- 
ford,  there  is  no  violation  of  nature.  Besides  their  ignorance 
of  his  person,  so  that  he  could  not  necessarily  foresee  the 
effects  of  Voltore's  rage,  it  has  been  well  and  finely  said  by 
Cumberland,  that  there  is  a  moral  in  a  villain's  outwitting 
himself.  And  this  is  one  that  many  dramatists  have  dis 
played. 

58.  In  the  choice  of  subject,  The  Fox  is  much  inferior 
to  Tartuffe,  to  which  it  bears   some  very  general  analogy. 
Though  the  Tartuffe  is  not  a  remarkably  agreeable  play,  The 
Fox  is  much  less  so :   five  of  the  principal   characters   are 
wicked  almost  beyond  any  retribution  that  comedy  can  dis- 
pense ;  the  smiles  it  calls  forth  are  not  those  of  gayety,  but 
scorn ;   and  the  parts  of  an  absurd  English  knight  and   his 
wife,  though  very  humorous,  are  hardly  prominent  enough  to 
enliven  the  scenes  of  guilt  and  fraud  which  pass  before  our 
eyes.     But,  though  too  much  pedantry  obtrudes  itself,  it  does 
not  overspread  the  pages  with  nonsense  as  in  the  Alchemist ; 
the  characters  of  Celia  and  Bonario  excite  some  interest ;  the 
differences,  one  can  hardly  say  the  gradations,  of  villany  are 
marked  with  the  strong  touches  of  Jonson's  pen  ;  the  incidents 
succeed  rapidly  and  naturally ;  the  dramatic  effect,  above  all, 
is  perceptible  to  every  reader,  and  rises  in  a  climax  through 
the  last  two  acts  to«the  conclusion. 

59.  The  Silent  Woman,  which  has  been  named  by  some 
The  saent    with  the  Alchemist  and  the  Fox,  falls  much  below 
M'oman.      them  in  vigorous  delineation  and  dramatic  effect.     It 
has  more  diversity  of  manner  than  of  character ;  the  amusing 
scenes  border  sometimes  on  farce,  as   where   two   cowardly 
knights  are  made  to  receive  blows  in  the  dark,  each  supposing 
them  to  come  from  his   adversary ;   and  the  catastrophe  is 
neither  pleasing  nor  probable.     It  is  written  with  a  great  deal 


CHAP.  VL  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  309 

of  spirit,  and  has  a  value  as  the  representation  of  London  life 
in  the  higher  ranks  at  that  time.  But,  upon  the  whole,  I 
should  be  inclined  to  give  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humor  a 
much  superior  place.  It  is  a  proof  of  Jonson's  extensive 
learning,  that  the  story  of  this  play,  and  several  particular 
passages,  have  been  detected  in  a  writer  so  much  out  of  the 
beaten  track 'as  Libanius.1 

60.  The  pastoral  drama  of  the  Sad  Shepherd  is  the  best 
testimony  to   the   poetical   imagination    of  Jonson. 
Superior  in  originality,  liveliness,  and  beauty  to  the   herd. 
Faithful  Shepherdess   of  Fletcher,  it  reminds  us  rather,  in 
language  and  imagery,  of  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream ; 
and  perhaps  no  other  poetry  has  come  so  near  to  that  of  Shak- 
speare.     Jonson,  like  him,  had  an  extraordinary  command  of 
English,  in  its  popular  and  provincial  idioms,  as  well  as  what 
might  be  gained  from  books  ;  and,  though  his  invincible  pedan- 
try now  and  then  obtrudes  itself  into  the  mouths  of  shepherds, 
it  is  compensated  by  numerous  passages  of  the  most  natural 
and  graceful  expression.      This  beautiful  drama  is  imperfect, 
hardly  more  than  half  remaining,  or,  more  probably,  having 
ever  been  written.     It  was  also  Jonson's  last  song :    age  and 
poverty  had  stolen  upon  him ;  but,  as  one  has  said  who  expe- 
rienced the  same  destiny,  "  the  life  was  in  the  leaf,"  and  his 
laurel   remained  verdant   amidst   the    snow    of  his  honored 
head.     The  beauties  of  the  Sad  Shepherd  might   be    reck- 
oned rather  poetical  than  dramatic ;  yet  the  action  is  both 
diversified  and  interesting  to  a  degree  we  seldom  find  in  the 
pastoral   drama :    there  is  little  that    is   low   in   the   comic 
speeches,  nothing  that  is  inflated  in  the  serious. 

61.  Two  men  once  united  by  friendship,  and  for  ever  by 
fame,  the   Dioscuri   of  our  zodiac,  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,    rose   upon    the    horizon,  as    the    star  of    and1™ 
Shakspeare,  though    still    in    its   fullest  brightness,   fl^teher- 
was  declining  in  the  sky.     The  first  in  order  of  time,  among 
more  than  fifty  plays  published  with  their  joint  names,  is  the 
Woman- Hater,  represented,  according  to  Langbaine,  in  1607, 

1  Gifford  discovered  this.  Dryden,  who  up  from  the  life.  Dryden  gives  it  as  his 
has  given  an  examination  of  the  Silent  opinion  that  there  is  inore  wit  and  acute- 
Woman,  in  his  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry,  ness  of  fancy  in  this  play  than  in  any  of 
takes  Morose  for  a  real  character,  and  Ben  Jonson's.  and  that  he  has  described 
gays  that  he  had  so  been  informed.  It  is  the  conversation  of  gentlemen  with  more 
possible  that  there  might  be  some  founda-  gayety  and  freedom  than  in  the  rest  of  hi* 
tion  of  truth  in  this  :  the  skeleton  is  in  comedies,  p  107. 
Libaiius,  but  Jonson  may  have  filled  it 


310  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  PART  HI. 

and  ascribed  to  Beaumont  alone  by  Seward,  though,  I  believe, 
merely  on  conjecture.1  Beaumont  died  at  the  age  of  thirty, 
in  1615;  Fletcher,  in  1625.  No  difference  of  manner  is 
perceptible,  or  at  least  no  critic  has  perceived  any,  in  the 
plays  that  appeared  between  these  two  epochs  :  in  fact,  the 
greater  part  were  not  printed  till  1647,  and  it  is  only  through 
the  records  of  the  play-house  that  we  distinguish  their  dates. 
The  tradition,  however,  of  their  own  times,  as  well  as  the 
earlier  death  of  Beaumont,  give  us  reason  to  name  Fletcher, 
when  we  mention  one  singly,  as  the  principal  author  of  all 
these  plays ;  and  of  late  years  this  has  perhaps  become  more 
customary  than  it  used  to  be.  A  contemporary  copy  of  verses, 
indeed,  seems  to  attribute  the  greater  share  in  the  Maid's 
Tragedy,  Philaster,  and  King  and  No  King,  to  Beaumont. 
But  testimony  of  this  kind  is  very  precarious.  It  is  sufficient 
that  he  bore  a  part  in  these  three. 

62.  Of  all  our  early  dramatic  poets,  none  have  suffered 
such  mangling  by  the  printer  as  Beaumont  and 
Bta'ferf  Fletcher.  Their  style  is  generally  elliptical,  and  not 
their  text.  veiy  perspicuous ;  they  use  words  in  peculiar  senses ; 
and  these  seems  often  an  attempt  at  pointed  expression,  in 
which  its  meaning  has  deserted  them.  But,  after  every  effort 
to  comprehend  their  language,  it  is  continually  so  remote  from 
all  possibility  of  bearing  a  rational  sense,  that  we  can  only 
have  recourse  to  one  hypothesis,  —  that  of  an  extensive  and 
irreparable  corruption  of  the  text.  Seward  and  Simpson, 
who,  in  1750,  published  the  first  edition  in  which  any  en- 
deavor was  made  at  illustration  or  amendment,  though  not 
men  of  much  taste,  and  too  fond  of  extolling  their  authors, 
showed  some  acuteness,  and  have  restored  many  passages  in  a 
probable  manner,  though  often  driven  out  at  sea  to  conjec- 
ture something,  where  the  received  reading  furnished  not 
a  vestige  which  they  could  trace.  No  one  since  has  made 
any  great  progress  in  this  criticism,  though  some  have  carped 
at  these  editors  for  not  performing  more.  The  problem  of 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  8.  He  also  thinks  The  Nice  unassisted  composition  of  Fletcher."  On 

Valour  exclusively  Beaumont's.  These  the  other  hand,  he  says,  "not  the  slightest 

two  appear  to  me  about  the  worst  in  the  doubt  can  be  entertained  that  of  the  earlier 

collection.  plays  in  the  present  collection  (and  among 

[The  latest  editor  of  Beaumont  and  those  plays  are  the  best),  Beaumont  con- 
Fletcher  is  inclined  to  modify  this  opi-  tributed  a  large  (perhaps  the  weightier) 
nion,  latterly  prevalent,  as  to  the  respective  portion."  —  Some  Account  of  the  Lives 
shares  of  the  two  poets.  The  Woman-lla-  and  Writings  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
ter,  he  thinks,  was  " In  all  probability  the  prefixed  to  Mr.  Dyce's  edition.  -  1847  ' 


CHAP.  YL  THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY.  311 

actual  restoration  in  most  places,  -where  the  printers  or  tran- 
scribers have  made  such  strange  havoc,  must  evidently  be 
insoluble.1 

63.  The  first  play  in  the  collected  works  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  though  not  the  earliest,  is  the  Plaid's  Tra-  -n^  Maid's 
gedy ;    and  it  is  among  the  best.     None   of  their  Tragedy- 
female  characters,  though  they  are  often  very  successful  in 
beautiful  delineations  of  virtuous  love,  attaches  our  sympathy 
like  Aspasia.     Her  sorrows  are  so  deep,  so  pure,  so  unmer- 
ited ;    she  sustains  the  breach  of  plighted  faith  in  Amyntor, 
and  the  taunts  of  vicious  women,  with  so  much  resignation,  so 
little  of  that  termagant  resentment  which  these  poets  are  apt 
to  infuse  into  their  heroines ;  the  poetry  of  her  speeches  is 
so  exquisitely  imaginative,  —  that,  of  those  dramatic  persons 
who  are  not  prominent  in  the  development  of  a  story,  scarce 
any,  even  in  Shakspeare,  are  more  interesting.     Nor  is  the 
praise  due  to  the  Maid's  Tragedy  confined  to   the   part  of 
Aspasia.     In  Melantius  we  have  Fletcher's  favorite  charac- 
ter, the  brave,  honest  soldier,  incapable  of  suspecting  evil  till 
it  becomes  impossible  to  be  ignorant  of  it,  but  unshrinking  in 
its  punishment.     That  of  Evadne  well  displays  the  audacious 
security  of  guilt  under  the  safeguard  of  power :  it  is  highly 
theatrical,  and  renders  the  success  of  this  tragedy  not  sur- 
orising  in  times  when  its  language  and  situations  could  be 
endured  by  the  audience.     We  may  remark  in  this  tragedy, 
as  in  many  others  of  these  dramatists,  that,  while  pouring  out 
the  unlimited  loyalty  fashionable  at  the  court  of  James,  they 
are  full  of  implied  satire,  which  could  hardly  escape  observa- 
tion.    The  warm  eulogies  on  military  glory,  the  scorn  of 
slothful  peace,  the  pictures  of  dissolute  baseness  in  courtiers, 
seem  to  spring  from  a  sentiment  very  usual  among  the  Eng- 
lish gentry,  a  rank  to  which  they  both  belonged,  of  dislike 
to  that  ignominious  government ;  and,  though  James  was  far 
enough  removed  from  such  voluptuous  tyrants  as   Fletcher 
has  portrayed  in  this  and  some  other  plays,  they  did  not  serve 
to  exemplify  the  advantages  of  monarchy  in  the  most  attract- 
ive manner. 

64.  The    Maid's    Tragedy,   unfortunately,   beautiful   and 
essentially  moral  as  it  is,    cannot   be    called   a    tragedy  for 
maids,  and  indeed  should  hardly  be  read  by  any  respecta- 

1  [The  recent  edition  of  Mr.  Dyce  baa  gone  far  towards  a  restoration  of  the  genuine 
text. —1847-1 


312  PHILASTER  — KING  AND  NO  KING.  PART  TIL 

ble  woman.  It  abounds  with  that  studiously  protracted  imlo- 
cency  which  distinguished  Fletcher  beyond  all  our  early 
dramatists,  and  is  so  much  incorporated  with  his  plays,  that 
very  few  of  them  can  be  so  altered  as  to  become  tolerable  at 
present  on  the  stage.  In  this  he  is  strikingly  contrasted  with 
Shakspeare,  whose  levities  of  this  kind  are  so  transitory,  and 
BO  much  confined  to  language,  that  he  has  borne  the  pro- 
cess of  purification  with  little  detriment  to  his  genius,  or 
even  to  his  wit. 

65.  Philaster  has  been,  in  its  day,  one  of  the  best  known 
Phiiaste       anc^  mos*  popular  of  Fletcher's   plays.1     This   was 

owing  to  the  pleasing  characters  of  Philaster  and 
Bellario,  and  to  the  frequent  sweetness  of  the  poetry.  It  is 
nevertheless,  not  a  first-rate  play.  The  plot  is  most  absurdly 
managed.  It  turns  on  the  suspicion  of  Arethusa's  infidelity ; 
and  the  sole  ground  of  this  is,  that  an  abandoned  woman, 
being  detected  herself,  accuses  the  princess  of  unchastity. 
Not  a  shadow  of  presumptive  evidence  is  brought  to  confirm 
this  impudent  assertion ;  which,  however,  the  lady's  father, 
her  lover,  and  a  grave,  sensible  courtier,  do  not  fail  implicitly 
to  believe.  How  unlike  the  chain  of  circumstance,  and  the 
devilish  cunning,  by  which  the  Moor  is  wrought  up  to  think 
his  Desdemona  false  !  Bellario  is  suggested  by  Viola  ;  there 
is  more  picturesqueness,  more  dramatic  importance,  not  per- 
haps more  beauty  and  sweetness  of  affection,  but  a  more  elo- 
quent development  of  it,  in  Fletcher :  on  the  other  hand,  there 
is  still  more  of  that  improbability  which  attends  a  successful 
concealment  of  sex  by  mere  disguise  of  clothes,  though  no 
artifice  has  been  more  common  on  the  stage.  Many  other 
circumstances  in  the  conduct  of  Fletcher's  story  are  ill 
contrived.  It  has  less  wit  than  the  greater  part  of  his 
comedies ;  for  among  such,  according  to  the  old  distinc- 
tion, it  is  to  be  ranked,  though  the  subject  is  elevated  and 
serious. 

66.  King  and  No  King  is,  in  my  judgment,  inferior  to  Phi- 
King  and     laster.     The  language  has  not  so  much  of  poetical 
no  King      beauty.     The  character  of  Arbaces  excites  no  sym- 
pathy:  it  is  a  compound  of  vain-glory  and  violence,  which 

1  Dryden  says,  but  I  know  not  how  p.  100.    Philaster  was  not  printed,  accord- 
truly,  that  Philaster  was  "  the  first  play  ing  to  Langbaine,  till  1620 :  I  do  not  knew 
that  brought  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  in  that  we  have  any  evidence  of  the  date  of 
esteem ;   for,  before  that,  they  had  writ-  its  representation, 
ten  two  or  three  very  unsuccessfully."  — 


CHAP.  VI.         THE  ELDER  BROTHER.  313 

rather  demands  disgrace  from  poetical  justice  than  reward. 
Panthea  is  innocent,  but  insipid ;  Mardonius,  a  good  specimen 
of  what  Fletcher  loves  to  exhibit,  the  plain,  honest  courtier. 
As  for  Bessus,  he  certainly  gives  occasion  to  several  amusing 
scenes ;  but  his  cowardice  is  a  little  too  glaring :  he  is  neither 
so  laughable  as  Bobadil,  nor  so  sprightly  as  Parolles.  The 
principal  merit  of  this  play,  which  rendered  it  popular  on 
the  stage  for  many  years,  consists  in  the  effective  scenes  where 
Arbaces  reveals  his  illicit  desire.  That  especially  with  Mar- 
donius is  artfully  and  elaborately  written.  Shakspeare  had 
less  of  this  skill ;  and  his  tragedies  suffer  for  it  in  their  dra- 
matic effect.  The  scene  between  John  and  Hubert  is  an 
exception,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  it  in  Othello ;  but,  in 
general,  he  may  be  said  not  to  have  exerted  the  power  of 
detaining  the  spectator  in  that  anxious  suspense,  which  creates 
almost  an  actual  illusion,  and  makes  him  tremble  at  every 
word,  lest  the  secret  which  he  has  learned  should  be  imparted 
to  the  imaginary  person  on  the  stage.  Of  this  there  are  seve- 
ral fine  instances  in  the  Greek  tragedians,  the  famous  scene 
in  the  CEdipus  Tyrannus  being  the  best ;  and  it  is  possible 
that  the  superior  education  of  Fletcher  may  have  rendered 
him  familiar  with  the  resources  of  ancient  tragedy.  These 
scenes  in  the  present  play  would  have  been  more  highly 
powerful,  if  the  interest  could  have  been  thrown  on  any  cha- 
racter superior  to  the  selfish  braggart  Arbaces.  It  may  be  said, 
perhaps,  that  his  humiliation  through  his  own  lawless  passions, 
after  so  much  insolence  of  success,  affords  a  moral :  he  seems, 
however,  but  imperfectly  cured  at  the  conclusion,  which  is  also 
hurried  on  with  unsatisfactory  rapidity. 

67.  The  Elder  Brother  has  been  generally  reckoned  among 
the  best  of  Fletcher's  comedies.  It  displays  in  a  The  Eider 
new  form  an  idea  not  very  new  in  fiction :  the  power  Brother- 
of  love,  on  the  first  sight  of  a  woman,  to  vivify  a  soul  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  passion.  Charles,  the  Elder  Brother,  much 
unlike  the  Cymon  of  Dryden,  is  absorbed  in  study ;  a  mere 
scholar  without  a  thought  beyond  his  books.  His  indifference, 
perhaps,  and  ignorance  about  the  world,  are  rather  exagge- 
rated, and  border  on  stupidity ;  but  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
dramatists  in  that  age  to  produce  effect  in  representation  by 
very  sudden  developments,  if  not  changes,  of  character.  The 
other  persons  are  not  ill-conceived :  the  honest,  testy  Mira- 
mont,  who  admires  learning  without  much  more  of  it  than 


314  THE  SPANISH  CURATE.  PART  III. 

enables  him  to  sign  his  name ;  the  two  selfish,  woildly  fathers 
of  Charles  and  Angelina,  believing  themselves  shrewd,  yet  the 
easy  dupes  of  coxcomb  manners  from  the  court ;  the  spirited 
Angelina  ;  the  spoiled  but  not  worthless  Eustace,  —  show 
Fletcher's  great  talent  in  dramatic  invention.  In  none  of  his 
mere  comedies  has  he  sustained  so  unifonnly  elegant  and  pleas- 
ing a  style  of  poetry :  the  language  of  Charles  is  naturally  that 
of  a  refined  scholar ;  but  now  and  then,  perhaps,  we  find  old 
Miramont  talk  above  himself.  The  underplot  hits  to  the  life 
the  licentious  endeavors  of  an  old  man  to  seduce  his  inferior ; 
but,  as  usual,  it  reveals  vice  too  broadly.  This  comedy  is  of 
very  simple  construction,  so  that  Gibber  was  obliged  to  blend  it 
with  another,  The  Custom  of  the  Country,  in  order  to  compose 
from  the  two  his  Love  Makes  a  Man ;  by  no  means  the  worst 
play  of  that  age.  The  two  plots,  however,  do  not  harmonize 
very  well. 

68.  The  Spanish  Curate  is,  in  all  probability,  taken  from  one 
The  Spanish  of  those  comedies  of  intrigue  which  the  fame  of  Lope 
Curate.  ^g  yega  ^a(j  ma(je  popular  in  Europe.1  It  is  one  of 
the  best  specimens  of  that  manner :  the  plot  is  full  of  incident 
and  interest,  without  being  difficult  of  comprehension,  nor, 
with  fair  allowance  for  the  conventions  of  the  stage  and  man- 
ners of  the  country,  improbable.  The  characters  are  in  full 
relief,  without  caricature.  Fletcher,  with  an  artifice  of  which 
he  is  very  fond,  has  made  the  fierce  resentment  of  Violante 
break  out  unexpectedly  from  the  calmness  she  had  shown  in 
the  first  scenes ;  but  it  is  so  well  accounted  for,  that  we  see 
nothing  unnatural  in  the  development  of  passions  for  which 
there  had  been  no  previous  call.  Ascanio  is  again  one  of 
Fletcher's  favorite  delineations ;  a  kind  of  Bellario  in  his 
modest,  affectionate  disposition ;  one  in  whose  prosperity  the 
reader  takes  so  much  pleasure,  that  he  forgets  it  is,  in  a  world- 
ly sense,  inconsistent  with  that  of  the  honest-hearted  Don 
Jamie.  The  doting  husband,  Don  Henrique,  contrasts  well 
with  the  jealous  Bartolus ;  and  both  afford  by  their  fate  the 
sort  of  moral  which  is  looked  for  in  comedy.  The  underplot 
of  the  lawyer  and  his  wife,  while  it  shows  how  licentious  in 
principle  as  well  as  indecent  in  language  the  stage  had  become, 
is  conducted  with  incomparable  humor  and  amusement.  Con- 

1  [The  Spanish  Curate,  Mr.  Dyce  in-  de  Cespides.  of  which  an  English  tranfla- 
forms  us,  is  founded  on  Gerardo,  the  Un-  tion,  by  Leonard  Digges,  appeared  vi  1622. 
fortunate  Spaniard,  a  novel  by  Qou^alo  — 1847.] 


CHAP.  VI.  THE  CUSTOM  OF  THE  COUNTRY.  315 

greve  borrowed  part  of  this  in  the  Old  Bachelor,  without  by 
any  means  equalling  it.  Upon  the  whole,  as  a  comedy  of 
this  class,  it  deserves  to  be  placed  in  the  highest  rank. 

69.  The  Custom  of  the  Country  is  much  deformed  by  ob- 
scenity, especially  the  first  act.     But  it  is  full  of  The  Custom 
nobleness  in  character  and  sentiment,  of  interesting  of  the 
situations,  of  unceasing  variety  of  action.     Fletcher 

has  never  shown  what  he  so  much  delights  in  drawing,  —  the 
contrast  of  virtuous  dignity  with  ungoverned  passion  in  wo- 
man, —  with  more  success  than  in  Zenocia  and  Hippolyta.  Of 
these  three  plays  we  may  say,  perhaps,  that  there  is  more 
poetry  in  the  Elder  Brother,  more  interest  in  the  Custom  of 
the  Country,  more  wit  and  spirit  in  the  Spanish  Curate. 

70.  The  Loyal  Subject  ought  also  to  be  placed  in  a  high 
rank  among  the  works  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.   The  Loyal 
There  is  a  play  by  Heywood,  The  Royal  King  and   s^i**- 
Loyal  Subject,  from  which  the  general  idea  of  several  circum- 
stances of  this   has  been  taken.     That  Heywood's  was  the 
original,  though  the  only  edition  of  it  is  in  1637,  while  the 
Loyal  Subject  was  represented  in  1618,  cannot  bear  a  doubt. 
The  former  is  expressly  mentioned  in  the  epilogue  as  an  old 
play,   belonging  to  a  style  gone  out  of  date,  and  not  to  be 
judged  with  rigor.     Heywood  has  therefore  the  praise  of 
having  conceived  the  character  of  Earl  Marshal,  upon  which 
Fletcher  somewhat  improved  in  Arc-has ;    a  brave  soldier,  of 
that  disinterested  and  devoted  loyalty  which  bears  all  ingrati- 
tude and  outrage  at  the  hands  of  an  unworthy  and  misguided 
sovereign.     In  the  days  of  .Tames,   there  could  be  no  more 
courtly  moral.     In  each  play,  the  prince,  after  depriving  his 
most  deserving  subject  of  honors  and  fortune,  tries  his  fidelity 
by   commanding  him  to  send  two  daughters,  whom  he  had 
educated  in  seclusion,  to  the  court,  with  designs  that  the  father 
may  easily  suspect.     The  loyalty,  however,  of  these  honest 
soldiers  submits  to  encounter  this  danger  ;  and  the  conduct  of 
the  young  ladies  soon  proves  that  they  might  be  trusted  in  the 
fiery  trial.     In  the  Loyal  Subject,  Fletcher  has  beautifully, 
and  with  his  light  touch  of  pencil,  sketched  the  two  virtuous 
sisters :    one   high-spirited,   intrepid,  undisguised ;   the  other 
shrinking  with  maiden  modesty,  a  tremulous  dew-drop  in  the 
cup  of  a  violet.     But,  unfortunately,  his  original  taint  betrays 
itself,  and  the  elder  sister  cannot  display  her  scorn  of  licen- 
tiousness without  borrowing  some  of  its  language.     If  Shak- 


816  THE  SCORNTUL  LADY.  PART  III. 

speare  had  put  these  loose  images  into  the  mouth  of  Isabella, 
how  differently  we  should  have  esteemed  her  character  ! 

71.  We  find  in  the  Loyal  Subject  what  is  neither  pleasing 
nor  probable,  the  disguise  of  a  youth  as  a  girl.     This  was, 
of  course,  not  offensive  to  those  who  saw  nothing  else  on 
the  stage.     Fletcher  did  not  take  this  from  Heywood.     In  the 
whole  management  of  the  story  he  is  much  superior :    the  no- 
bleness of  Archas,  and  his  injuries,  are  still  more  displayed 
than  those  of  the  Earl  Marshal ;    and  he  has  several  new 
characters,  especially  Theodore,  the  impetuous  son  of  the  Loyal 
Subject,  who  does  not  brook  the  insults  of  a  prince  as  submis- 
sively as  his  father,  which  fill  the  play  with  variety  and  spirit. 
The  language  is  in  some  places  obscure  and  probably  corrupt, 
but  abounding  with  that  kind  of  poetry  which  belongs   to 
Fletcher. 

72.  Beggar's  Bush  is  an  excellent  comedy ;   the  serious 
Beggar's      parts  interesting,  the  comic  diverting.     Every  charac- 
Bush.         ^  supports  itself  well :    if  some  parts  of  the  plot 
have  been  suggested  by  As  You  Like  It,  they  are  managed  so 
as  to  be  original  in  spirit.     Few  of  Fletcher's  plays  furnish 
more  proofs  of  his  characteristic  qualities.     It  might  be  repre- 
sented with  no  great  curtailment. 

73.  The  Scornful  Lady  is  one  of  those  comedies  which 
The  Scorn-   exhibit  English  domestic  life,  and  have   therefore  a 
ftii  Lady,     value  independent  of  their  dramatic  merit.     It  does 
not  equal  Beggar's  Bush,  but  is  full  of  effective  scenes,  which, 
when  less  regard  was  paid  to  decency,  must  have  rendered  it 
a  popular  play.     Fletcher,  in  fact,  is  as  much  superior  to 
Shakspeare  in  his  knowledge  of  the  stage,  as  he  falls  below 
him  in  that  of  human  nature.1     His   fertile   invention   was 

1  [Mr.  Dyce,  as  well  as  an  earlier  editor  Savil.  But,  while  making  this  avowal, 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  thinks  the  why  did  not  he  add,  that  the  Waiting- 
greater  part  of  this  comedy  written  by  Woman  in  the  Scornful  Lady  is  called 
Beaumont.  Mr.  Dyce  adds:  "In  the  Abigail?  Here  was  a  heinous  theft ;  and, 
edition  of  1760,  Theobald  has  a  note  con-  after  its  concealment,  1  fear  that  we  must 
corning  the  steward  Savil,  where  he  says,  refuse  absolution.  After  all,  however, 
'  The  ingenious  Mr.  Addison,  I  remember,  there  is  a  certain  resemblance  in  these 
told  me  that  he  sketched  out  his  character  comedies,  which  may  lead  us  to  believe  that 
of  Vellum,  in  the  comedy  called  the  Drum-  Addison  had  his  predecessors  in  his  head, 
mer.  purely  from  this  model.'"  It  is  Since  this  was  written,  I  have  observed 
paid  of  some  plagiaries,  that  they  are  like  that  Mr.  Dyce,  in  Some  Account  of  the 
tr\  jisies,  who  steal  children,  and  disfigure  Lives  and  Writings  of  Beaumont  and 
them  that  they  may  not  be  known.  "  The  Fletcher,  prefixed  to  his  edition,  p.  41, 
ingenious  Mr.  Addison  "  went  another  has  remarks  to  the  same  purport.  Mr. 
u:ty  to  work:  when  he  took  any  one's  Dyce  adds,  that  when  "  the  Spectator  and 
silvrr,  he  turned  it  into  gold.  I  doubt  Taller  are  hastening  to  oblivion"  (puciet 
whether  Theobald  reported  his  ingenious  hezc  opprobria),  "  it  cannot  be  expected 
friend's  words  rightly  ;  for  the  inimitable  that  the  reader  will  know  much  of  The 
formality  of  Yellum  has  no  prototype  in  Drummer."  — 1847.] 


CHAP.  VL  VALENTDOAN.  317 

turned  to  the  management  of  his  plot  (always  with  a  view  to 
representation),  the  rapid  succession  of  incidents,  the  surprises 
and  embarrassments  which  keep  the  spectator's  attention 
alive.  His  characters  are  but  vehicles  to  the  story :  they  are 
distinguished,  for  the  most  part,  by  little  more  than  the  slight 
peculiarities  of  manner,  which  are  easily  caught  by  the  audi- 
ence ;  and  we  do  not  often  meet,  especially  in  his  comedies, 
with  the  elaborate  delineations  of  Jonson,  or  the  marked 
idiosyncrasies  of  Shakspeare.  Of  these,  his  great  predeces- 
sors, one  formed  a  deliberate  conception  of  a  character, 
whether  taken  from  general  nature  or  from  manners,  and 
drew  his  figure,  as  it  were,  in  his  mind,  before  he  transferred 
it  to  the  canvas :  with  the  other,  the  idea  sprang  out  of  the 
depths  of  his  soul,  and,  though  suggested  by  the  story  he  had 
chosen,  became  so  much  the  favorite  of  his  genius  as  he  wrote, 
that  in  its  development  he  sometimes  grew  negligent  of  his 
plot. 

74.  No  tragedy  of  Fletcher  would  deserve  higher  praise 
than  Valentin  ian,  if  he  had  not,  by  an  inconceiva-  v  . 

.  J  -,  n  Valentiman. 

ble  want  of  taste  and  judgment,  descended  from 
beauty  and  dignity  to  the  most  preposterous  absurdities.  The 
matron  purity  of  the  injured  Lucina,  the  ravages  of  unre- 
strained self-indulgence  on  a  mind  not  wholly  without  glimpses 
of  virtue  in  Valentinian,  the  vileness  of  his  courtiers,  the 
spirited  contrast  of  unconquerable  loyalty  in  JEtius,  with  the 
natural  indignation  at  wrong  in  Maximus,  are  brought  before 
our  eyes  in  some  of  Fletcher's  best  poetry,  though  in  a  text 
that  seems  even  more  corrupt  than  usual.  But  after  the  ad- 
mirable scene  in  the  third  act,  where  Lucina  (the  Lucretia  of 
this  story)  reveals  her  injury, —  perhaps  almost  the  only 
scene  in  this  dramatist,  if  we  except  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  that 
can  move  us  to  tears,  —  her  husband  Maximus,  who  even  here 
begins  to  forfeit  our  sympathy  by  his  ready  consent,  in  the 
Spanish  style  of  perverted  honor,  to  her  suicide,  becomes  a 
treacherous  and  ambitious  villain,  the  loyalty  of  JEtius  turnc. 
to  downright  folly,  and  the  rest  of  the  play  is  but  such  a 
series  of  murders  as  Marston  or  the  author  of  Andronicus 
might  have  devised.  If  Fletcher  meant,  which  he  very  pro- 
bably did,  to  inculcate  as  a  moral,  that  the  worst  of  tyrants 
are  to  be  obeyed  with  unflinching  submission,  he  may  have 
gained  applause  at  court,  at  the  expense  of  his  reputation 
with  posterity. 


818  THE  TWO  NOBLE  KINSMEN.  PART  HI. 

75.  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  is  a  play  that  has  been  hon- 
TheTwo  ore^  by  a  tradition  of  Shakspeare's  concern  in  it. 
Noble  The  evidence  as  to  this  is  the  titlepage  of  the  first 
edition ;  which,  though  it  may  seem  much  at  first 
sight,  is  next  to  nothing  in  our  old  drama,  full  of  misnomers 
of  this  kind.  The  editors  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  have 
insisted  upon  what  they  take  for  marks  of  Shakspeare's  style ; 
and  Schlcgel,  after  "  seeing  no  reason  for  doubting  so  probable 
an  opinion,"  detects  the  spirit  of  Shakspeare  in  a  certain  ideal 
purity  which  distinguishes  this  from  other  plays  of  Fletcher, 
and  in  the  conscientious  fidelity  with  which  it  follows  the 
Knight's  Tale  in  Chaucer.  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  h;is 
much  of  that  elevated  sense  of  honor,  friendship,  fidelity,  and 
love,  which  belongs,  I  think,  more  characteristically  to  Fletch- 
er, who  had  drunk  at  the  fountain  of  Castilian  romance,  than 
to  one  in  whose  vast  mind  this  conventional  morality  of  par- 
ticular classes  was  subordinated  to  the  universal  nature  of 
man.  In  this  sense,  Fletcher  is  always,  in  his  tragic  compo- 
sitions, a  very  ideal  poet.  The  subject  itself  is  fitter  for  him 
than  for  Shakspeare.  In  the  language  and  conduct  of  this 
play,  with  great  deference  to  better  and  more  attentive  critics, 
I  see  imitations  of  Shakspeare  rather  than  such  resemblances 
as  denote  his  powerful  stamp.  The  madness  of  the  gaoler's 
daughter,  where  some  have  imagined  they  saw  the  master- 
hand,  is  doubtless  suggested  by  that  of  Ophelia,  but  with  an 
inferiority  of  taste  and  feeling  which  it  seems  impossible  not 
to  recognize.  The  painful  and  degrading  symptom  of  female 
insanity,  which  Shakspeare  has  touched  with  his  gentle  hand, 
is  dwelt  upon  by  Fletcher  with  all  his  innate  impurity.  Can 
any  one  believe  that  the  former  would  have  written  the  last 
scene  in  which  the  gaoler's  daughter  appears  on  the  stage  ? 
Schlegel  has  too  fine  taste  to  believe  that  this  character  came 
from  Shakspeare,  and  it  is  given  up  by  the  latest  assertor 
of  his  claim  to  a  participation  in  the  play.1 

i  The  author  of  a  "  Letter  on  Shak-  to  set  up  my  own  doubts  fa  opposition, 

gpeare's  Authorship  of  the  Drama  entitled  His  chief  proofs  are  drawn  from  the  force 

the   Two    Noble   Kinsmen,"  Edinburgh,  and  condensation  of  language  in  particular 

1833,  notwithstanding  this  title,  does  not  passages,  whfch   doubtless  is  one  of  the 

deny  a  considerable  participation  to  Fletch-  great  distinctions  between  the  two.     But 

er.    He  lays  no  great  stress  on  the  exter-  we  might  wish  to  have  seen  this  displayed 

nal  evidence.     But,  in  arguing  from  the  in  longer  extracts  than  such  as  the  author 

similarity  of  style  in   many   passages  to  of  this  Letter  b*s  generally  given  us.    It 

that  of  Shakspeare,  the  author,  Mr.  Spald-  is  difficult  to  say  of  a  man  like  Fletcher, 

ing  of  Edinburgh,   shows  so  much  taste  that  he  could  no't  have  written  single  lines 

aud  so  competent  a  knowledge  of  the  two  in  the  spirit  of  his  predecessor.    A  few  in- 

dramatists,  that  I  should  perhaps  scruple-  stances,  however   of  longer  passage*  will 


CHAP.  VI.  THE  FAITHFUL  SHEPHERDESS.  319 

76.  The  Faithful  Shepherdess,  deservedly  among  the  most 
celebrated  productions  of  Fletcher,  stands  alone  in   The  Faith. 
its  class,  and  admits  of  no  comparison  with  any  other  fui  Shep- 
play.     It  is  a  pastoral  drama,  in   imitation  of  the 
Pastor   Fido,  at  that  time  verj   popular  in   England.     The 
Faithful  Shepherdess,  however,  to  the  great  indignation  of  all 
the  poets,  did  not  succeed  on  its  first  representation.     There 
is  nothing  in  this  surprising:  the  tone  of  pastoral  is  too  far 
removed  from  the  possibilities  of  life  for  a  stage,  which  ap- 
pealed, like  ours,  to  the  boisterous  sympathies  of  a  general 
audience.     It  is  a  play  very  characteristic  of  Fletcher,  being 
a   mixture  of  tenderness,  purity,  indecency,  and  absurdity. 
There   is  some  justice  in    SchlegeFs   remark,  that  it  is  an 
immodest  eulogy  on  modesty.     But  this  critic,  who  does  not 
seem  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  Fletcher's  poetry,  should 
hardly  have  mentioned  Guarini  as  a  model  whom  he  might 
have  followed.     It  was  by  copying  the  Corisca  of  the  Pastor 
Fido  that  Fletcher  introduced  the  character  of  the  vicious 
shepherdess  Cloe ;    though,  according   to  his  times,  and  we 
must  own,  to  his  disposition,  he  has  greatly  aggravated  the 
faults  to  which  just  exception  has  been  taken  in  his  original. 

77.  It  is  impossible  to  withhold  our  praise  from  the  poetical 
beauties  of  this  pastoral  drama.     Every  one  knows  that  it 
contains  the  germ  of  Comus:   the  benevolent  Satyr,  whose 
last  proposition  to  "  stray  in  the  middle  air,  and  stay  the  sail- 
ing rack,  or  nimbly  take  hold  of  the  moon,"  is  not  much  in  the 
character  of  those  sy Ivans,    has   been  judiciously   metamor- 
phosed by  Milton  to  an  attendant  spirit ;  and  a  more  austere 
as  well  as  more  uniform  language  has  been  given  to  the  speak- 
ers.    But  Milton  has  borrowed  largely  from  the  imagination 
of  his   predecessor ;    and,  by  quoting  the  lyric  parts  of  the 
Faithful  Shepherdess,  it  would  be  easy  to  deceive  any  one  not 
accurately  familiar  with  the  songs  of  Comus.     They  abound 
with  that  rapid  succession  of  ideal  scenery,  that  darting  of  the 
poet's  fancy  from  earth  to  heaven,  those  picturesque  and  novel 
metaphors,  which  distinguish  much  of  the  poetry  of  this  age, 

be  found;  and  I  believe  that  it  is  a  sub-  [Mr.   Dyce  concurs  with  Mr.  Spalding 

ject  upon  which  there  will  long  be  a  dif-  M  to  the  share  of  Shakspeare,  which  they 

ference  of  opinion.  both  think  to  have  been  the  first,  and  a 

[Coleridge  has  said,  "  I  have  no  doubt  part,  if  not  all,  of  the  fifth,  but  not  much 

whatever,  that  the  first  act  and  the  first  of  the  intermediate  parts.     The  hypothe 

scene  of  the  secoud  act  cf  the  Two  Noble  sis  °f  a  joint  production  is  open  to  much 

Kinsmen,  are  Shakspeare's." — Table  Talk  difficulty,    which    Mr.    Dyce    hardly    w- 

vol.  ii  p.  119.  — 1842. J                               '  moves.  —  1847.] 


820  SOME  OTHER  PLAYS.  PART  III. 

and  which  are  ultimately,  perhaps,  in  great  measure  referable 
to  Shakspeare. 

78.  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife  is  among  the  superior 
Buieawife  comedies  of  its  class.     That  it  has  a  prototype  on 
and  Have     the  Spanish  theatre  must  appear  likely ;  but  I  should 

'lfe'  be  surprised  if  the  variety  and  spirit  of  character, 
the  vivacity  of  humor,  be  not  chiefly  due  to  our  own  authors.1 
Every  personage  in  this  comedy  is  drawn  with  a  vigorous 
pencil ;  so  that  it  requires  a  good  company  to  be  well  repre- 
sented. It  is  indeed  a  mere  picture  of  roguery;  for  even 
Leon,  the  only  character  for  whom  we  can  feel  any  sort  of 
interest,  has  gained  his  ends  by  stratagem :  but  his  gallant 
spirit  redeems  this  in  our  indulgent  views  of  dramatic  mo- 
rality, and  we  are  justly  pleased  with  the  discomfiture  of 
fraud  and  effrontery  in  Estifania  and  Margarita. 

79.  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle  is  very  diverting, 
Some  other    and   more  successful,  perhaps,  than   any  previous 
plays.  attempt  to  introduce  a  drama  within  a  drama.     I 
should   hardly  except   the  Introduction  to  the  Taming  of  a 
Shrew.     The  burlesque,  though  very  ludicrous,  does  not  trans- 
gress all  bounds  of  probability.     The  Wild-goose  Chase,  The 
Chances,  The  Humorous  Lieutenant,  Women  Pleased,  Wit 
without  Money,  Monsieur  Thomas,  and  several  other  come- 
dies, deserve  to  be  praised  for  the  usual  excellences  of  Flet- 
cher,—  his  gayety,  his  invention,  his  ever-varying  rapidity  of 
diulogue  and  incident.    None  are  without  his  defects  ;  and  we 
may  add,  what   is    not  in  fairness  to  be  called  a  defect  of 
his,  since  it  applies  perhaps  to  every  dramatic  writer  except 
Shakspeare   and   Moliere,  that,  being   cast   as  it  were  in  a 
common  mould,  we  find  both  a  monotony  in  reading  several 
of  these  plays,  and  a  difficulty  of  distinguishing  them  in  re- 
membrance. 

80.  The  later  writers,  those  especially  after  the  Restora- 
tion, did  not  fail  to  appropriate  many  of  the  inventions   of 
Fletcher.     He  and  his  colleague  are  the  proper  founders  of 
our  comedy  of  intrigue,  which  prevailed  through  the  seven- 
teenth century;   the  comedy  of  Wycherley,  Dryden,  Behn, 
and  Shadwell.     Their  manner,  if  not  their  actual  plots,  may 
still    be  observed  in  many  pieces  that  are  produced  on  our 
stage.     But  few  of  those  imitators  came  up  to  the  spright- 

1  [It  la  taken,  in  part,  from  one  of  the  novels  of  Cervantes.  See  Mr.  Dyce's  Intro- 
duction, p.  7.— 1847.] 


CHAP.  VI.  ORIGIN  OF  FLETCHER'S  PLATS.  321 

liness  of  their  model.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  that  it  is  rarely 
practicable  to  adapt  any  one  of  his  comedies  to  representa- 
tion, without  such  changes  as  destroy  their  original  raciness, 
and  dilute  the  geniality  of  their  wit. 

81.  There  has  not  been  much  curiosity  to  investigate  the 
sources  of  his  humorous  plays.    A  few  are  historical ;   Origin  of 
but  it  seems  highly  probable  that  the  Spanish  stage   F^her'e 
of  Lope  de  Vega  and  his  contemporaries  often  fur-   p 
nished  the  subject,  and  perhaps  many  of  the  scenes,  to  his 
comedies.     These  possess  all  the  characteristics  ascribed  to 
the   comedies  of  intrigue  so  popular  in  that  country.     The 
scene,  too,  is  more  commonly  laid  in  Spain,  and  the  costume 
of   Spanish   manners    and  sentiments  more  closly  observed, 
than  we  should  expect  from  the    invention    of  Englishmen. 
It  would  be  worth  the  leisure  of  some  lover  of  theatrical  lite- 
rature to  search  the  collection  of  Lope  de  Vega's  works,  and, 
if  possible,  the  other  Spanish  writers  at  the  beginning  of  the 
century,  in  order  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  our  two  dramatists. 
Sometimes  they  may  have  had  recourse  to  novels.    The  Little 
French  Lawyer  seems  to  indicate  such  an  origin.     Nothing 
had  as  yet  been  produced,  I  believe,  on   the  French  stage, 
from  which  it  could  have  been  derived ;   but  the  story  and 
most  of  the  characters  are  manifestly  of  French  derivation. 
The  comic  humor  of  La  Writ,  in  this  play,  we  may  ascribe 
to  the  invention  of  Fletcher  himself.1 

82.  It  is,  however,  not  improbable,  that  the  entire  plot  was 
sometimes  original.     Fertile  as  their  invention  was,   Defects  of 
to  an  extraordinary  degree,  in  furnishing  the  inci-   theirPlot 
dents  of  their  rapid  and  animated  comedies,  we  may  believe 
the  fable  itself  to  have  sometimes  sprung  from  no  other  source. 
It  seems,  indeed,  now  and  then,  as  if  the  authors  had  gone 
forward  with  no  very  clear  determination  of  their  catastrophe  ; 
there  is  a  want  of  unity  in  the  conception,  a  want  of  consist- 

1  Dryden  reckons   this  play  with    the  [In  this  conjecture  I  have  been  mista- 

Spauish  (Jurate,  the  Chances,  and  Rule  a  ken  :  the  plot,  Langbaine  says,  is  borrowed 

'U'ii'u  aud  Have  a  Wife,  among  those  which  from  the  Spanish  Rogue  of  Guzman  d?Al- 

he  supposes  to  be  drawn  from   Spanish  farache ;    and  Mr.   Dyce    adds  that  this 

novels.    Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry,  p.  204.  writer  took  it  from  an  older  novel,  by 

By  novels  we  "should  probably  understand  Masuccio    Salernitano.      Beaumont    and 

plavs ;    for  those  which  he  mentions  are  Fletcher  have,  however,  greatly  improved 

little  in  the    style    of  novels.    But  the  the  story.     Dyce's  Beaumont  and  Fletch- 

Ldttle  French  Lawyer  has  all  the  appear-  er,  vol.  iii.  p.  459.    See,  too,  what  is  said 

ance    of  coming  from  a  French  novel :  above,  on  the  same  authority,  M  to  th« 

the  scene  lies  in  France,  and  I  see  nothing  Spanish  Curate.  — 1847.] 
Spanish  about  it.      Dryden  was  seldom 
well  informed  about  the  early  stage 

VOL..   111.  21 


322  THEIR  SENTIMENT  AND  STYIE.  PART  Hi. 

ency  in  the  characters,  which  appear  sometimes  rather  in- 
tended to  surprise  by  incongruity,  than  framed  upon  a  definite 
model.  That  of  Ruy  Diaz  in  the  Island  Princess,  of  whom 
it  is  hard  to  say  whether  he  is  a  brave  man  or  a  coward, 
or  alternately  one  and  the  other,  is  an  instance  to  which 
many  more  might  easily  be  added.  In  the  Bloody  Brother, 
Hollo  sends  to  execution  one  of  his  counsellors,  whose  daughter 
Edith  vainly  interferes  in  a  scene  of  great  pathos  and  effect, 
In  the  progress  of  the  drama,  she  arms  herself  to  take  away 
the  tyrant's  life :  the  whole  of  her  character  has  been  con- 
Bistent  and  energetic ;  when  Fletcher,  to  the  reader's  astonish- 
ment, thinks  fit  to  imitate  the  scene  between  Richard  and 
Lady  Anne ;  and  the  ignominious  fickleness  of  that  lady,  whom 
Shakspeare  with  wonderful  skill,  but  in  a  manner  not  quite 
pleasing,  sacrifices  to  the  better  display  of  the  cunning  crook- 
back,  is  here  transferred  to  the  heroine  of  the  play,  and  the 
very  character  upon  whom  its  interest  ought  to  depend. 
Edith  is  on  the  point  of  giving  up  her  purpose,  when,  some 
others  in  the  conspiracy  coming  in,  she  recovers  herself 
enough  to  exhort  them  to  strike  the  blow.1 

83.  The  sentiments  and  style  of  FletcHer,  where  not  con 
_  .  cealed  by  obscurity,  or  corruption  of  the  text,  are 

mentsand  very  dramatic.  We  cannot  deny  that  the  depths  of  x 
matte?18'"  Shakspeare's  mind  were  often  unfathomable  by  an 
audience :  the  bow  was  drawn  by  a  matchless  hand ; 
but  the  shaft  went  out  of  sight.  All  might  listen  to  Flet- 
cher's pleasing,  though  not  profound  or  vigorous,  language ; 
his  thoughts  are  noble,  and  tinged  with  the  ideality  of  romance, 
his  metaphors  vivid,  though  sometimes  too  forced ;  he  pos- 
sesses the  idiom  of  English  without  much  pedantry,  though 
in  many  passages  he  strains  it  beyond  common  use  ;  his  versi- 
fication, though  studiously  irregular,  is  often  rhythmical  and 
sweet.  Yet  we  are  seldom  arrested  by  striking  beauties ; 
good  lines  occur  hi  every  page,  fine  ones  but  rarely:  we 
lay  down  the  volume  with  a  sense  of  admiration  of  what  we 
have  read,  but  little  of  it  remains  distinctly  in  the  memory. 
Fletcher  is  not  much  quoted,  and  has  not  even  afforded 

1  Rotron,  in  his  Weneeslag,  as  we  have  of  their  contenticns  with  men.    But  lion- 

already  observed,  has  done  something  of  esses  are  become  very  good  painters  ;  and 

the  same  kind :  It  may  have  been  meant  it  is  but  throueh  their  <-lemency  that  we 

as  an  ungenerous  and  calumnious  attack  are  not  delineated  in  such  a  style  as  would 

on  the  constancy  of  the  female  sex.     If  avenge    them    for    the    injuries  of  thea* 

lions  were    painters,  the  old  fable  says,  tragedians, 
they  would  exhibit  a  vew  different  view 


CHAP.  VI.    TRAGEDIES  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.      323 

copious  materials  to  those  who  cull  the  beauties  of  ancient 
lore. 

84.  In  variety  of  character,  there  can  be  no  comparison  be- 
tween Fletcher  and  Shakspeare.    A  few  types  return   Their  cha- 
upon  us  in  the  former :  an  old  general,  proud  of  his   racters- 
wars,  faithful  and  passionate;    a  voluptuous  and  arbitrary 
king  (for  his  principles   of  obedience  do  not  seem  to  have 
inspired  him  with  much  confidence  in  royal  virtues)  ;  a  sup- 
ple  courtier,  a   high-spirited  youth,  or   one  more  gentle  in 
manners  but  not  less  stout  in  action ;    a  lady,  fierce  and  not 
always  very  modest  in  h*er  chastity,  repelling  the  solicitations 
of  licentiousness ;  another  impudently  vicious, — form  the  usual 
pictures  for  his  canvas.     Add  to  these,  for  the  lighter  comedy, 
an  amorous  old  man,  a  gay  spendthrift,  and  a  few  more  of  the 
staple  characters  of  the  stage,  and  we  have  the  materials  of 
Fletcher's  dramatic  world.     It  must  be  remembered,  that  we 
compare  him  only  with  Shakspeare  ;  and  that,  as  few  drama- 
tists have  been  more  copious  than  Fletcher,  few  have  been 
so  much  called  upon  for  inventions,  in  which  the  custom  of  the 
theatre  has  not  exacted  much  originality.     The  great  fertility 
of  his  mind  in  new  combinations  of  circumstance  gives  as 
much  appearance  of  novelty  to  the  personages  themselves  as  an 
unreflecting  audience  requires.      In  •  works    of  fiction,  even 
those  which  are  read  in  the  closet,  this  variation  of  the  mere 
dress   of  a  character  is   generally  found   sufficient  for  the 
public. 

85.  The  tragedies  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  by  which  our 
ancestors  seem  to  have  meant  only  plays  wherein  Their  tra- 
any  one  of  the  personages,  or  at  least  one  whom  the  gedies 
spectator  would  wish  to  keep  alive,  dies  on  the  stage,  are  not 
very  numerous ;  but  in  them  we  have  as  copious  an  effusion  of 
blood  as  any  contemporary  dramas  supply.     The  conclusion, 
indeed,  of  these,  and   of  the   tragi-comedies,  which   form   a 
larger  class,  is  generally  mismanaged.     A  propensity  to-  take 
the  audience  by  surprise  leads  often  to  an  unnatural  and  un- 
satisfactory catastrophe :    it  seems   their  aim   to   disappoint 
common  expectation,  to  baffle  reasonable  conjecture,  to  mock 
natural  sympathy.      This  is  frequently  the  practice  of  our 
modern  novelists,  who  find  no  better  resource  in  the  poverty 
of  their  invention  to  gratify  the  jaded  palate  of  the  world. 

86.  The  comic  talents  of  these  authors  far  exceeded  their 
skill  in   tragedy.     In  comedy  they  founded  a  new  school,  at 


824  FEMALE  CHARACTERS.         PART  III. 

least  in  England,  the  vestiges  of  which  are  still  to  be  traced  in 
our  theatre.     Their  plays  are  at  once  distinguishable 

Inferior  to  «      i     •  ,  i         .1 

their  com-  from  those  of  their  contemporaries  by  the  regard 
to  dramatic  effect  which  influenced  the  writer's  im- 
agination. Though  not  personally  connected  with  the  stage, 
they  had  its  picture  ever  before  their  eyes.  Hence  their  in- 
cidents are  numerous  and  striking ;  their  characters  sometimes 
slightly  sketched,  not  drawn,  like  those  of  Jonson,  from  a  pre- 
conceived design,  but  preserving  that  degree  of  individual 
distinctness  which  a  common  audience  requires,  and  often 
highly  humorous  without  extravaganpe ;  their  language  bril- 
liant with  wit ;  their  measure,  though  they  do  not  make  great 
use  of  prose,  very  lax  and  rapid,  running  frequently  to  lines 
of  thirteen  and  fourteen  syllables.  Few  of  their  comedies 
are  without  a  mixture  of  grave  sentiments  or  elevated  charac- 
ters ;  and,  though  there  is  much  to  condemn  in  their  indecency 
and  even  licentiousness  of  principle,  they  never  descend  to  the 
coarse  buffoonery  not  unfrequent  in  their  age.  Never  were 
dramatic  poets  more  thoroughly  gentlemen,  according  to  the 
standard  of  their  times ;  and,  when  we  consider  the  court  of 
James  I.,  we  may  say  that  they  were  above  that  standard.1 

87.  The  best  of  Fletcher's  characters  are  female,  he 
Their  fe-  wanted  that  large  sweep  of  reflection  and  experi- 
maie  cha-  ence  which  is  required  for  the  greater  diversity  of 

*re'  the  other  sex.  None  of  his  women  delight  us  like 
Imogen  and  Desdemona ;  but  he  has  many  Imogens  and  Des- 
demonas  of  a  fainter  type.  Spacelia,  Zenocia,  Celia,  Aspasia, 
Evanthe,  Lucina,  Ordella,  Oriana,  present  the  picture  that 
cannot  be  greatly  varied  without  departing  from  its  essence, 
but  which  never  can  be  repeated  too  often  to  please  us,  of 
faithful,  tender,  self-denying  female  love,  superior  to  every 
thing  but  virtue.  Nor  is  he  less  successful,  generally,  in  the 
contrast  of  minds  stained  by  guilty  passion,  though  in  this  he 

1  "  Their  plots  were  generally  more  re-  them  arrived  to  its  highest  perfection  : 

gular  than  Shakspeare's,  especially  those  what  words  have  since  been  taken  in,  are 

which  were  made  before  Beaumont's  death  ;  rather  superfluous  than  ornamental.  Their 

and   they   understood  and    mutated   the  plays  are  now  (lie  most  pleasant  and  fre- 

conversation  of  gentlemen  much  better ;  quent  entertainments  of  the  stage ;   two 

whose  wild  debaucheries,  and  quickness  of  theirs  being  acted  through  the  year  for 

of  wit  in  repartees,  no  poet  before  them  one  of  Shakspeare's  or  Jonson's :  the  rea- 

could  paint  as  they  hare  done.     Humor,  son  is,  because  there  is  a  certain  gayety  in 

which  Ben  Jonson  derived  from  particular  their  comedies,  and  pathos  in  their  more 

persons,  they  made  it  not  their  business  to  serious  plays,  which  suits  generally  with  all 

describe  :  they  represented  all  the  passions  men's  humors.     Shakspeare's  language  is 

very  lively,  but,  above  ali,  love.    I  am  likewise  a  little  obsolete,  and  Jonson' s  wit 

apt  to  believe   the  English   language  in  falls  short  of  theirs."  —  Dry  den,  p.  101. 


CHAP.  VL  MASSESGER.  325 

sometimes  exaggerates  the  outline  till  it  borders  on  caricature. 
.But  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  in  Fletcher  the  strong  conceptions  of 
Shakspeare,  the  Shylocks,  the  Lears,  the  Othellos.  Schlegel 
ha?  well  said,  that  "  scarce  any  thing  has  been  wanting  to  give 
a  place  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  among  the  great  drama- 
tists of  Europe  but  more  of  seriousness  and  depth,  and  the 
regulating  judgment  which  prescribes  the  due  limits  in  every 
part  of  composition."  It  was  for  want  of  the  former  qualities 
that  they  conceive  nothing  in  tragedy  very  forcibly ;  for  want 
of  the  latter,  that  they  spoil  their  first  conception  by  extrava- 
gance and  incongruity.1 

88.  The  reputation  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  was  at  its 
height,  and  most  of  their  plays  had  been  given  to  the  stage, 
when  a  worthy  inheritor  of  their  mantle  appeared  in  Philip 
Massinger.     Of  his  extant  dramas,  the  Virgin  Martyr,  pub- 
lished in  1622,  seems  to  be  the  earliest:  but  we  have  reason 
to  believe  that  several  are  lost ;   and  even  this  tragedy  may 
have  been  represented  some  years  before.     The  far  greater 
part  of  his  remaining  pieces  followed  within  ten  years :   the 
Bashful  Lover,  which  is  the  latest  now  known,  was  written  in 
]636.     Massinger  was  a  gentleman,  but  in  the  service,  ac- 
cording to  the  language  of  those  times,  of  the  Pembroke 
family ;  his  education  was  at  the  university,  his  acquaintance 
both  with  books  and  with  the  manners  of  the  court  is  familiar, 
his  style  and  sentiments  are  altogether  those  of  a  man  pol- 
ished by  intercourse  of  good  society. 

89.  Neither  in  his  own  age  nor  in  modern  times  does  Mas- 
singer  seem  to  have  been  put  on  a  level  with  Fletcher  or 
Jonson.     Several  of  his  plays,  as  has  been  just  observed,  are 
said  to  have  perished  in  manuscript :   few  were  represented 
after  the  Restoration ;    and  it  is  only  in  consequence  of  his 
having  met  with  more  than  one  editor  who  has  published  his 

1  "  Shakspeare,"  says  Dryden,  "  writ  To  conclude  all.  he  was  a  limb  of  Shak- 
bctter  between  man  and  man,  Fletcher  speare."  —  p.  301.  This  comparison  is 
betwixt  man  and  woman :  consequently  rather  generally  than  strictly  just,  as  is 
the  one  described  friendship  better,  the  often  the  case  with  the  criticisms  of  Dry- 
other,  lore  :  yet  Shakspeare  taught  Fletch-  den.  That  Fletcher  wrote  better  than 
er  to  write  love,  and  Juliet  and  Desdemona  Shakspeare  "  between  man  and  woman," 
are  originals.  It  is  true  the  scholar  had  or  in  displaying  lore,  will  be  granted  when 
the  softest  soul,  but  the  master  had  the  he  shall  be  shown  to  have  excelled  Ferdi- 
kinder.  .  .  .  Shakspeare  had  an  universal  nand  and  Miranda,  or  Posthumus  and 
mind,  which  comprehended  all  characters  Imogen.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
and  passions :  Fletcher,  a  more  confined  unjust  to  deny  him  credit  for  having 
and  limited  :  for  though  he  treated  love  in  sometimes  touched  the  stronger  emotions, 
perfection,  yet  honor,  ambition,  revenge,  especially  honor  and  ambition,  with  great 
and  generally  all  the  stronger  passions,  skill,  though  much  inferior  to  th»t  at 
be  either  touched  not,  or  not  masterly.  Shakspeare 


826  MASSINGER  — HIS  CHARACTERS.  PART  HL 

collected  works  in  a  convenient  form,  that  he  is  become  tol 
erably  familiar  to  the  general  reader.  He  is,  however,  far 
more  intelligible  than  Fletcher:  his  text  has  not  given  see 
much  embarrassment  from  corruption,  and  his  general  style 
is  as  perspicuous  as  we  ever  find  it  in  the  dramatic  poets  of 
that  age.  The  obscure  passages  in  Massinger,  after  the  care 
that  Gifford  has  taken,  are  by  no  means  frequent. 

90.  Five  of  his  sixteen  plays  are  tragedies,  that  is,  are 
General       concluded  in  death :   of  the  rest,  no  one  belongs  to 
natxireof     the  class  of  mere  comedy,  but  by  the  depth  of  the 

m*'  interest,  the  danger  of  the  virtuous,  or  the  atrocity 
of  the  vicious  characters,  as  well  as  the  elevation  of  the  gen- 
eral style,  must  be  ranked  with  the  serious  drama,  or,  as  it 
was  commonly  termed,  tragi-comedy.  A  shade  of  melancholy 
tinges  the  writings  of  Massinger;  but  he  sacrifices  less  than 
his  contemporaries  to  the  public  taste  for  superfluous  blood- 
shed on  the  stage.  In  several  of  his  plays,  such  as  the 
Picture  or  the  Renegade,  where  it  would  have  been  easy  to 
determine  the  catastrophe  towards  tragedy,  he  has  preferred 
to  break  the  clouds  with  the  radiance  of  a  setting  sun.  He 
consulted  in  this  his  own  genius,  not  eminently  pathetic  nor 
energetic  enough  to  display  the  utmost  intensity  of  emotion, 
but  abounding  in  sweetness  and  dignity,  apt  to  delineate  the 
loveliness  of  virtue,  and  to  delight  in  its  recompense  after 
trial.  It  has  been  surmised,  that  the  religion  of  Massinger 
was  that  of  the  Church  of  Rome ;  a  conjecture  not  im- 
probable, though,  considering  the  ascetic  and  imaginative 
piety  which  then  prevailed  in  that  of  England,  we  need  not 
absolutely  go  so  far  for  his  turn  of  thought  in  the  Virgin 
Martyr  or  the  Renegade. 

91.  The  most  striking  excellence  of  this  poet  is  his  con- 
ins  deiinea-  ception  of  character ;  and  in  this  I  must  incline  to 
tionsof       place  him  above  Fletcher,  and,  if  I  may  venture 

to  say  it,  even  above  Jonson.  He  is  free  from  the 
hard  outline  of  the  one,  and  the  negligent  looseness  of  the 
other.  He  has  indeed  no  great  variety,  and  sometimes  re- 
peats, with  such  bare  modifications  as  the  story  demands,  the 
type  of  his  first  design.  Thus  the  extravagance  of  conjugal 
affection  is  portrayed,  feeble  in  Theodosius,  frantic  in  Domi- 
tian,  selfish  in  Sforza,  suspicious  in  Mathias ;  and  the  same 
impulses  of  doting  love  return  upon  us  in  the  guilty  eulogies 
of  Mallefort  on  his  daughter.  The  vindictive  hypocrisy  of 


CHAP.  VL  HIS  SUBJECTS.  327 

Montreville  in  the  Unnatural  Combat  has  nearly  its  counter- 
part in  that  of  Francesco  in  the  Duke  of  Milan,  and  is  again 
displayed  with  more  striking  success  in  Luke.  Tliis  last 
villain,  indeed,  and  that  original,  masterly,  inimitable  con- 
ception. Sir  Giles  Overreach,  are  sufficient  to  establish  the 
rank  of  Massinger  in  this  great  province  of  dramatic  art. 
But  his  own  disposition  led  him  more  willingly  to  pictures  of 
moral  beauty.  A  peculiar  refinement,  a  mixture  of  gentle- 
ness and  benignity  with  noble  daring,  belong  to  some  of  his 
favorite  characters,  to  Pisander  in  the  Bondman,  to  An- 
tonio in  A  Very  Woman,  to  Charolois  in  the  Fatal  Dowry. 
It  may  be  readily  supposed,  that  his  female  characters  are  not 
wanting  in  these  graces.  It  seems  to  me,  that  he  has  more 
variety  in  his  women  than  in  the  other  sex,  and  that  they  are 
less  mannered  than  the  heroines  of  Fletcher.  A  slight  degree 
of  error  or  passion  in  Sophia,  Eudocia,  Marcelia,  without 
weakening  our  sympathy,  serves  both  to  prevent  the  monoto- 
ny of  perpetual  rectitude,  so  often  insipid  in  fiction,  and  to 
bring  forward  the  development  of  the  story. 

92.  The  subjects  chosen  by  Massinger  are  sometimes  his- 
torical ;  but  others  seem  to  have  been  taken  from  BBS  sub- 
French  or  Italian  novels,  and  those  so  obscure  that  J60*8- 
his  editor  Gifford,  a  man  of  much  reading  and  industry,  has 
seldom  traced  them.  This,  indeed,  was  an  usual  practice  of 
our  ancient  dramatists.  Their  works  have,  consequently,  a 
romantic  character,  presenting  as  little  of  the  regular  Plau- 
tine  comedy  as  of  the  Greek  forms  of  tragedy.  They  are 
merely  novels  in  action,  following  probably  then-  models  with 
no  great  variation,  except  the  lower  and  lighter  episodes 
which  it  was  always  more  or  less  necessary  to  combine  with 
the  story.  It  is  from  this  choice  of  subjects,  perhaps,  as 
much  as  from  the  peculiar  temper  of  the  poets,  that  love  is 
the  predominant  affection  of  the  mind  which  they  display; 
not  cold  and  conventional,  as  we  commonly  find  it  on  the 
French  stage,  but  sometimes,  as  the  novelists  of  the  South 
were  prone  to  delineate  its  emotions,  fiery,  irresistible,  and 
almost  resembling  the  fatalism  of  ancient  tragedy ;  sometimes 
a  subdued  captive  at  the  chariot  wheels  of  honor  or  religion. 
The  range  of  human  passion  is,  consequently,  far  less  exten- 
sive than  in  Shakspeare ;  but  the  variety  of  circumstance,  and 
the  modifications  of  the  paramount  affection  itself,  compen- 
sated for  this  deficiency. 


328  MASSINGEK'S  TRAGEDIES.  PART  ID. 

93.  Next  to  the  grace  and  dignity  of  sentiment  in  Massin- 
Beauty  of    ger,  we  must   praise    those    qualities   in   his    style, 
his  style.      Every  modern  critic  has  been  struck  by  the  peculiar 
beauty  of  his  language.     In  his  harmonious  swell  of  number:*, 
in  his  pure  and  genuine  idiom,  which  a  text,  by  good  fortune 
and  the  diligence  of  its  last  editor,  far  less  corrupt  than  that 
of  Fletcher,  enables  us  to  enjoy,  we  find  an  unceasing  charm. 
The  poetical  talents  of  Massinger  were  very  considerable,  his 
taste  superior  to  that  of  his  contemporaries ;  the  coloring  of 
his  imagery  is  rarely  overcharged ;  a  certain  redundancy,  as 
some  may  account  it,  gives  fulness,  or  what  the  painters  call 
impasto,  to  his  style,  and,  if  it  might  not  always  conduce  to 
effect  on  the  stage,  is  on  the  whole  suitable  to  the  character 
of  his  composition.1 

94.  The  comic  powers  of  this  writer  are  not  on  a  level 
inferiority   with  the  serious :    with   some   degree  of  humorous 
of  his  comic  conception,  he  is  too  apt  to  aim  at  exciting  ridicule 

by  caricature ;  and  his  dialogue  wants  altogether  the 
sparkling  wit  of  Shakspeare  and  Fletcher.  Whether  from  a 
consciousness  of  this  defect,  or  from  an  unhappy  compliance 
with  the  viciousness  of  the  age,  no  writer  is  more  contaminat- 
ed by  gross  indecency.  It  belongs  indeed  chiefly,  not  per- 
haps exclusively,  to  the  characters  he  would  render  odious ; 
but  upon  them  he  has  bestowed  this  flower  of  our  early  thea- 
tre with  no  sparing  hand.  Few,  it  must  be  said,  of  his  plays 
are  incapable  of  representation  merely  on  this  account ;  and 
the  offence  is  therefore  more  incurable  in  Fletcher. 

95.  Among  the  tragedies  of  Massinger,  I  should   incline 
Some  of  his  *°  Prefer  tne  Duke   of  Milan.     The  plot   borrows 
tragedies     enough  from  history  to  give  it  dignity,  and  to  coun- 
jwrticuiar-   terbalance  in  some  measure  the  predominance  of  the 

passion  of  love  which  the  invented  parts  of  the  dra- 
ma exhibit.  The  characters  of  Sforza,  Marcelia,  and  Fran- 
cesco, are  in  Massinger's  best  manner ;  the  story  is  skilfully 
and  not  improbably  developed ;  the  pathos  is  deeper  than  we 
generally  find  in  his  writings ;  the  eloquence  of  language, 

1  [I  quote  the  following  criticism  from  loquial  language  is  left  at  the  gre;it.  st 

Coleridge,  without  thoroughly  assenting  distance ;    yet    something    of   it    is    pre- 

to  it :    "  The  styles  of  Massinger's  plays  served,  to  render  the  dialogue  proiwi  le : 

and  the  Samson  Agonistes  are  the  two  in  Massinger  the  style  is  diifrivno-.l.  !,ut 

extremes  of   the  arc   within   which   the  differenced  in  the  smallest  degree  possiMe, 

diction  of  dramatic  poetry  may  oscillate,  from  animated  conversation,  by  the  vein 

Shakspeare  in  his  great  plays  is  the  mid-  of  poetry."  —  Table  Talk,  T*l.  ii.  p.  121.— 

point.     In    the   Samson  Agonistes,  col-  1842. J 


CHAP.  VI.  MASSIXGER  — FORD.  329 

especially  in  the  celebrated  speech  of  Sforza  hefore  the  Empe- 
ror, has  never  been  surpassed  by  him.  Many,  however,  place 
the  Fatal  Dowry  still  higher.  This  tragedy  furnished  Rowe 
with  the  story  of  his  Fair  Penitent.  The  superiority  of  the 
original,  except  in  suitableness  for  representation,  has  long 
been  acknowledged.  In  the  Unnatural  Combat,  probably 
among  the  earliest  of  Massinger's  works,  we  find  a  greater 
energy,  a  bolder  strain  of  figurative  poetry,  more  command  of 
terror,  and  perhaps  of  pity,  than  in  any  other  of  his  dramas. 
But  the  dark  shadows  of  crime  and  misery  which  overspread 
this  tragedy  belong  to  rather  an  earlier  period  of  the  English 
stage  than  that  of  Massinger,  and  were  not  congenial  to  his 
temper.  In  the  Virgin  Martyr,  he  has  followed  the  Spanish 
model  of  religious  Autos,  with  many  graces  of  language  and  a 
beautiful  display  of  Christian  heroism  in  Dorothea ;  but  the 
tragedy  is  in  many  respects  unpleasing. 

96.  The  Picture,  The  Bondman,  and  A  Very  Woman,  may 
be  reckoned  among  the  best  of  the  tragi-comedies  of  And  ot  his 
Massinger.       But   the   general   merits  as   well   as  other  Pla-vs- 
defects  of  this  writer  are  perceptible  in  all ;  and  the  difference 
between  these  and  the  rest  is  not  such  as  to  be  apparent  to 
every  reader.     Two  others  are  distinguishable  as  more  Eng- 
lish than  the  rest ;  the  scene  lies  at  home,  and  in  the  age  ; 
and  to  these  the  common  voice  has  assigned  a  superiority. 
They  are  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts   and  The    City 
Madam.     A  character  drawn,  as  it  appears,  from  reality,  and, 
though  darkly  wicked,  not  beyond  the  province  of  the  higher 
comedy,  Sir  Giles  Overreach,  gives  the  former  drama  a  strik- 
ing originality  and  an  impressive  vigor.      ]£  retains,   alone 
among  the  productions  of  Massinger,  a  place  on  the  stage, 
Gifford  inclines  to  prefer  the  City  Madam  ;  which,  no  doubt, 
by  the  masterly  delineation  of  Luke,  a  villain  of  a  different 
order  from  Overreach,  and  a  larger  portion  of  comic  humor 
and  satire  than  is  usual  with  this  writer,   may  dispute   the 
palm.     But  there  seems  to  be  more  violent  improbability  in 
the  conduct  of  the  plot,  than  in  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old 
Debts. 

97.  Massinger,  as  a  tragic  writer,  appears  to  me  second 
only  to  Shakspeare :    in  the  higher  comedy,  I  can 

hardly  think  him  inferior  to  Jonson.     In   wit   and 
sprightly  dialogue,  as  well  as  in  knowledge  of  theatrical  effect, 
he  falls  very  much  below  Fletcher.     These,  however,  are  the 


330  FORD -SHIRLEY.  PART  HI. 

great  names  of  the  English  stage.  At  a  considerable  distance 
below  Massinger  we  may  place  his  contemporary  John  Ford. 
In  the  choice  of  tragic  subjects  from  obscure  fictions,  which 
have  to  us  the  charm  of  entire  novelty,  they  resemble  each 
other ;  but  in  the  conduct  of  their  fable,  in  the  delineation  of 
their  characters,  each  of  these  poets  has  his  distinguishing 
excellences.  "  I  know,"  says  Gifford,  "  few  things  more  diffi- 
cult to  account  for  than  the  deep  and  lasting  impression  made 
by  the  more  tragic  portions  of  Ford's  poetry."  He  succeeds, 
however,  pretty  well  in  accounting  for  it :  the  situations  are 
awfully  interesting,  the  distress  intense,  the  thoughts  and  lan- 
guage becoming  the  expression  of  deep  sorrow.  Ford,  with 
none  of  the  moral  beauty  and  elevation  of  Massinger,  has,  in 
a  much  higher  degree,  the  power  over  tears  :  we  sympathize 
even  with  his  vicious  characters,  with  Giovanni  and  Anna- 
bella  and  Bianca.  Love,  and  love  in  guilt  or  sorrow,  is 
almost  exclusively  the  emotion  he  portrays :  no  heroic  passion, 
no  sober  dignity,  will  be  found  in  his  tragedies.  But  he  con- 
ducts his  stories  well  and  without  confusion ;  his  scenes  are 
often  highly  wrought  and  effective ;  his  characters,  with  no 
striking  novelty,  are  well  supported  ;  he  is  seldom  extravagant 
or  regardless  of  probability.  The  Broken  Heart  has  gene- 
rally been  reckoned  his  finest  tragedy ;  and  if  the  last  act  had 
been  better  prepared,  by  bringing  the  love  of  Calantha  for 
Ithocles  more  fully  before  the  reader  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
play,  there  would  be  very  few  passages  of  deeper  pathos  in 
our  dramatic  literature.  "  The  style  of  Ford,"  it  is  said  by 
Gifford,  "is  altogether  original  and  his  own.  Without  the 
majestic  march  which  distinguishes  the  poetry  of  Massinger, 
and  with  little  or  none  of  that  light  and  playful  humor  which 
characterizes  the  dialogue  of  Fletcher,  or  even  of  Shirley,  he 
is  yet  elegant  and  easy  and  harrjonious ;  and  though  rarely 
sublime,  yet  sufficiently  elevated  for  the  most  pathetic  tones 
of  that  passion  on  whose  romantic  energies  he  chiefly  delighted 
to  dwell."  Yet  he  censures  afterwards  Ford's  affectation  of 
uncouth  phrases,  and  perplexity  of  language.  Of  comic  abili- 
ty this  writer  does  not  display  one  particle.  Nothing  can  be 
meaner  than  those  portions  of  his  dramas,  which,  in  compli- 
ance with  the  prescribed  rules  of  that  age,  he  devotes  to  the 
dialogue  of  servants  or  buffoons. 

98.  Shirley  is  a  dramatic  writer  much  inferior  to  those  who 
have  been  mentioned,  but  has  acquired  some  degree  of  reputa- 


CHAP.  VL  SHIRLEY  — HEYWOOD.  331 

tion,  or  at  least  notoriety  of  name,  in  consequence  of  the  new- 
edition  of  his  plays.  These  are  between  twenty  and  _ 
thirty  in  number ;  some  of  them,  however,  written 
in  conjunction  with  his  fellow-dramatists.  A  few  of  these  are 
tragedies,  a  few  are  comedies  drawn  from  English  manners ; 
but  in  the  greater  part  we  find  the  favorite  style  of  that  age, 
the  characters  foreign  and  of  elevated  rank,  the  interest  seri- 
ous, but  not  always  of  buskined  dignity,  the  catastrophe 
fortunate  ;  all,  in  short,  that  has  gone  under  the  vague  appel- 
lation of  tragi-comedy.  Shirley  has  no  originality,  no  force 
in  conceiving  or  delineating  character,  little  of  pathos,  and  less 
perhaps  of  wit :  his  dramas  produce  no  deep  impression  in 
reading,  and  of  course  can  leave  none  in  the  memory.  But 
his  mind  was  poetical ;  his  better  characters,  especially  females, 
express  pure  thoughts  in  pure  language ;  he  is  never  tumid 
or  affected,  and  seldom  obscure  ;  the  incidents  succeed  rapidly  ; 
the  personages  are  numerous  ;  and  there  is  a  general  animation 
in  the  scenes,  which  causes  us  to  read  him  with  some  pleasure. 
No  very  good  play,  nor  possibly  any  very  good  scene,  could 
be  found  in  Shirley ;  but  he  has  many  lines  of  considerable 
beauty.  Among  his  comedies,  the  Gamesters  may  be  reckoned 
the  best.  Charles  I.  is  said  to  have  declared,  that  it  was  "  the 
best  play  he  had  seen  these  seven  years  ; "  and  it  has  even 
been  added,  that  the  story  was  of  his  royal  suggestion.  It 
certainly  deserves  praise  both  for  language  and  construction  of 
the  plot,  and  it  has  the  advantage  of  exposing  vice  to  ridicule ; 
but  the  ladies  of  that  court,  the  fair  forms  whom  Vandyke  has 
immortalized,  must  have  been  very  different  indeed  from  their 
posterity  if  they  could  sit  it  through.  The  Ball,  and  also 
some  more  among  the  comedies  of  Shirley,  are  so  far  remark- 
able and  worthy  of  being  read,  that  they  bear  witness  to  a 
more  polished  elegance  of  manners,  and  a  more  free  inter- 
course in  the  higher  class,  than  we  find  in  the  comedies  of  the 
preceding  reign.  A  queen  from  France,  and  that  queen  Hen- 
rietta Maria,  wras  better  fitted  to  give  this  tone  than  Anne  of 
Denmark.  But  it  is  not  from  Shirley's  pictures  that  we  can 
draw  the  most  favorable  notions  of  the  morals  of  that  age. 

99.  Heywood  is  a  writer  still  more  fertile  than  Shirley : 
between  forty  and  fifty  plays  are  ascribed  to  him. 
"We  have  mentioned  one  of  the  best  in  the  second     eyw 
volume,  ante-dating,  perhaps,  its  appearance  by  a  few  years. 
In  the  English  Traveller  he  has  returned  to  something  like 


332  WEBSTER.  PART  in. 

the  subject  of  A  Woman  killed  with  Kindness,  but  with  less 
success.  This  play  is  written  in  verse,  and  with  that  ease  and 
perspicuity,  seldom  rising  to  passion  or  figurative  poetry, 
which  distinguishes  this  dramatist.  Young  Geraldine  is  a 
beautiful  specimen  of  the  Platonic,  or  rather  inflexibly  virtu- 
ous lover,  whom  the  writers  of  this  age  delighted  to  portray. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  difficult  to  pronounce  whether  the 
lady  is  a  thorough-paced  hypocrite  in  the  first  acts,  or  falls 
from  virtue,  like  Mrs.  Frankfort,  on  the  first  solicitation  of  a 
stranger.  In  either  case,  the  character  is  unpleasing,  and,  we 
may  hope,  improbable.  The  underplot  of  this  play  is  largely 
borrowed  from  the  Mostellaria  of  Plautus,  and  is  diverting, 
though  somewhat  absurd.  Heywood  seldom  rises  to  much 
vigor  of  poetry  ;  but  his  dramatic  invention  is  ready,  his  style 
is  easy,  his  characters  do  not  transgress  the  boundaries  of 
nature,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  was  popular  in  his 
>wn  age. 

100.  Webster  belongs  to  the  first  part  of  the  reign  of 

James.  He  possessed  veiy  considerable  powers,  and 
ought  to  be  ranked,  I  think,  the  next  below  Ford. 
With  less  of  poetic  grace  than  Shirley,  he  had  incomparably 
more  vigor  ;  with  less  of  nature  and  simplicity  than  Hey  wood, 
he  had  a  more  elevated  genius  and  a  bolder  pencil.  But  the 
deep  sorrows  and  terrors  of  tragedy  were  peculiarly  his  pro- 
vince. "  His  imagination,"  says  his  last  editor,  "  had  a  fond 
familiarity  with  objects  of  awe  and  fear.  The  silence  of  the 
sepulchre,  the  sculptures  of  marble  monuments,  the  knolling 
of  church  bells,  the1  cerements  of  the  corpse,  the  yew  that 
roots  itself  in  dead  men's  graves,  are  the  illustrations  that  most 
readily  present  themselves  to  his  imagination."  I  think  this 
well-written  sentence  a  little  one-sided,  and  hardly  doing  just- 
ice to  the  variety  of  Webster's  power ;  but,  in  fact,  he  was  as 
deeply  tainted  as  any  of  his  contemporaries  with  the  savage 
taste  of  the  Italian  school,  and,  in  the  Duchess  of  Malfy,  scarce- 
ly leaves  enough  on  the  stage  to  bury  the  dead. 

101.  This  is  the  most  celebrated  of  Webster's  dramas.     The 
ifiR  Duchess  story  is  taken  from  Bandello,  and  has  all  that  accu- 
of  siaify.     mulation  of  wickedness  and  horror  which  the  Italian 
novelists  perversely  described,  and  our  tragedians  as  perverse- 
ly imitated.     But  the  scenes  are  wrought  up  with  skill,  and 
produce  a  strong  impression.     Webster  has  a  superiority  in 
delineating  character  above  many  of  the  old  dramatists  ;  he  ia 


CHAP.  VI.  WEBSTER  — OTHER  DRAMATISTS.  333 

seldom  extravagant  beyond  the  limits  of  conceivable  nature  ; 
we  find  guilt,  or  even  the  atrocity,  of  human  passions,  but 
not  that  incarnation  of  evil  spirits  which  some  more  ordi- 
nary dramatists  loved  to  exhibit.  In  the  character  of  the 
Duchess  of  Malfy  herself,  there  wants  neither  originality,  nor 
skill  of  management ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  any  dramatist 
after  Shakspeare  would  have  succeeded  better  in  the  difficult 
scene  where  she  discloses  her  love  to  an  inferior.  There  is 
perhaps  a  little  failure  in  dignity  and  delicacy,  especially 
towards  the  close  ;  but  the  Duchess  of  Malfy  is  not  drawn  as 
an  Isabella  or  a  Portia :  she  is  a  love-sick  widow,  virtuous 
and  true-hearted,  but  more  intended  for  our  sympathy  than 
our  reverence. 

102.  The  White  Devil,  or  Vittoria  Corombona,  is  not 
much  inferior  in  language  and  spirit  to  the  Duchess  vutoria 
of  Malfy ;  but  the  plot  is  more  confused,  less  inter-  Corombona. 
esting,  and  worse  conducted.  Mr.  Dyce,  the  late  editor  of 
Webster,  praises  the  dramatic  vigor  of  the  part  of  Vittoria, 
but  justly  differs  from  Lamb,  who  speaks  of  "  the  innocence- 
resembling  boldness "  she  displays  in  the  trial  scene.  It  is 
rather  a  delineation  of  desperate  guilt,  losing  in  a  counterfeited 
audacity  all  that  could  seduce  or  conciliate  the  tribunal. 
Webster's  other  plays  are  less  striking:  in  Appius  and  Vir 
ginia  he  has  done  perhaps  better  than  any  one  who  has 
attempted  a  subject  not  on  the  whole  very  promising  for 
tragedy ;  several  of  the  scenes  are  dramatic  and  effective ; 
the  language,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  Webster,  is  written 
so  as  to  display  an  actor's  talents,  and  he  has  followed  the 
received  history  sufficiently  to  abstain  from  any  excess  of 
slaughter  at  the  close.  Webster  is  not  without  comic  wit,  as 
well  as  a  power  of  imagination :  his  plays  have  lately  met 
with  an  editor  of  taste  enough  to  admire  his  beauties,  and  not. 
very  over-partial  in  estimating  them. 

103.  Below  Webster,  we  might  enumerate  a  long  list  of 
dramatists  under  the  first  Stuarts.  Marston  is  a  tumid  and 
ranting  tragedian,  a  wholesale  dealer  in  murders  and  ghosts. 
Chapman,  who  assisted  Ben  Jonson  and  some  others  in  com- 
edy, deserves  but  limited  praise  for  his  Bussy  d'Amboise. 
The  style  in  this  and  in  all  his  tragedies  is  extravagantly 
hyperbolical :  he  is  not  very  dramatic,  nor  has  any  power  of 
exciting  emotion  except  in  those  who  sympathize  with  a  tumid 
pride  and  self-confidence.  Yet  he  has  more  thinking  than 


334  DRAMATISTS.  PAHT  III. 

many  of  the  old  dramatists ;  and  the  praise  of  one  of  his 
critics,  though  strongly  worded,  is  not  without  some  founda- 
tion, that  we  "  seldom-  find  richer  contemplations  on  the  nature 
of  man  and  the  world."  There  is  also  a  poetic  impetuosity  in 
Chapman,  such  as  has  redeemed  his  translation  of  Homer,  by 
which  we  are  hurried  along.  His  tragi-comedies,  All  Fools 
and  The  Gentleman  Usher,  are  perhaps  superior  to  his  trage- 
dies.1 Rowley  and  Le  Tourneur,  especially  the  former,  have 
occasionally  good  lines ;  but  we  cannot  say  that  they  were  very 
superior  dramatists.  Rowley,  however,  was  often  in  comic 
partnership  with  Massinger.  Dekker  merits  a  higher  rank  : 
he  co-operated  with  Massinger  in  some  of  his  plays,  and  mani- 
fests in  his  own  some  energy  of  passion  and  some  comic 
humor.  Middleton  belongs  to  this  lower  class  of  dramatic 
writers  :  his  tragedy  entitled  "  Women  beware  Women  "  is 
founded  on  the  story  of  Bianca  Cappello ;  it  is  full  of  action, 
but  the  characters  are  all  too  vicious  to  be  interesting,  and 
the  language  does  not  rise  much  above  mediocrity.  In  come- 
dy, Middleton  deserves  more  praise.  "  A  Trick  to  catch  the 
Old  One,"  and  several  others  that  bear  his  name,  are  amusing 
and  spirited.  But  Middleton  wrote  chiefly  in  conjunction 
with  others,  and  sometimes  with  Jonson  and  Massinger. 

1  Chapman  is  well  reviewed,  and  at  length,  in  an  article  of  the  Retrcepectiye 
Review,  vol.  IT   p.  833,  and  again  in  yol.  T. 


CHAP.  Vn.  DECLEN'E  OF  TASTE  IX  ITALY. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

HISTORY  OF  POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  PROSE,  FfiOM  1600  TO  1660. 


SECTION  I. 

Italian  Writers  — Boccalini  —Grammatical  and  Critical  Works  —  Graeian  —  French 
AVritera  —  Balzac  — Voiture  —  French  Academy  —  Vaugelas  —  Patm  and  Le  Maijtre 
-  Style  of  English  Prose  —  Earl  of  Essex  —  Knolles  —  Several  other  English  Writers 

1.  IT  would  be  vain  probably  to  inquire  from  what  general 
causes  we  should  deduce  the  decline  of  taste  in  Italy,  j^^  of 
None,  at  least,  have  occurred  to  my  mind,  relating  taste  in 
to  political  or  social  circumstances,  upon  which  we  taly' 
could  build  more  than  one  of  those  sophistical  theories  which 
assume  a  casual  relation  between  any  concomitant  events. 
Bad  taste,  in  fact,  whether  in  literature  or  the  arts,  is  always 
ready  to  seize  upon  the  public,  being  in  many  cases  no  more 
than  a  pleasure  in  faults  which  are  really  fitted  to  please  u«, 
and  of  which  it  can  only  be  said  that  they  hinder  or  impair 
the  greater  pleasure  we  should  derive  from  beauties.  Among 
these  critical  sins,  none  are  so  dangerous  as  the-  display  of 
ingenious  and  novel  thoughts  or  turns  of  phrase ;  for,  as  such 
enter  into  the  definition  of  good  writing,  it  seems  very  difficult 
to  persuade  the  world  that  they  can  ever  be  the  characteristics 
of  bad  writing.  The  metes  and  bounds  of  ornament,  the  fine 
shades  of  distinction  which  regulate  a  judicious  choice,  are 
only  learned  by  an  attentive  as  well  as  a  naturally  susceptible 
mind ;  and  it  is  no  rare  case  for  an  unprepared  multitude  to 
prefer  the  worse  picture,  the  worse  building,  the  worse  poem, 
the  worse  speech,  to  the  better.  Education,  an  acquaintance 
with  just  criticism,  and  still  more  the  habitual  observation  of 
what  is  truly  beautiful  in  nature  or  art,  or  in  the  literature 
of  taste,  AviU  sometimes  generate  almost  a  national  tact  that 
rejects  the  temptations  of  a  meretricious  and  false  style  ;  but 


336  STYLE  OF  GALILEO.  PART  III. 

experience  has  shown  that  this  happy  state  of  public  feeling 
will  not  be  very  durable.  Whatever  might  be  the  cause  of 
it,  this  age  of  the  Italian  seicentisti  has  been  reckoned  almost 
as  inauspicious  to  good  writing  in  prose  as  in  verse.  "  If  we 
except,"  says  Tiraboschi,  "  the  Tuscans  and  a  very  few  more, 
never  was  our  language  so  neglected  as  in  this  period.  We 
can  scarce  bear  to  read  most  of  the  books  that  were  pub- 
lished, so  rude  and  full  of  barbarisms  is  their  style.  Few  had 
any  other  aim  than  to  exercise  their  wit  in  conceits  and 
metaphors ;  and,  so  long  as  they  could  scatter  them  profusely 
over  their  pages,  cared  nothing  for  the  choice  of  phrases  or 
the  purity  of  grammar.  Their  eloquence  on  public  occasions 
was  intended  only  for  admiration  and  applause,  not  to  per- 
suade or  move." 1  And  this,  he  says,  is  applicable  alike  to 
their  Latin  and  Italian,  their  sacred  and  profane,  harangues. 
The  academical  discourses,  of  which  Dati  has  collected  many 
in  his  Prose  Fiorentine,  are  poor  in  comparison  with  those  of 
the  sixteenth.2 

2.  A  later  writer  than  Tiraboschi  has  thought  this  sentence 
against  the  seicentisti   a   little   too  severe,  and,  condemning 
equally  with  him  the  bad   taste   characteristic  of  that   age, 
endeavors  to  rescue  a  few  from  the  general  censure.3     It  is 
at  least  certain  that  the  insipidity  of  the  cinque  cento  writers, 
their  long  periods  void  of  any  but  the  most  trivial  meaning, 
their  affectation  of  the  faults  of  Cicero's  manner  in  their  own 
language,  ought  not  to  be  overlooked  or  wholly  pardoned, 
while  we  dwell  on  an  opposite  defect  of  their  successors,  — 
the  pei-petual  desire  to  be  novel,  brilliant,  or  profound.     This 
may  doubtless  be  the  more  offensive  of  the  two;  but  it  is, 
perhaps,  not  less  likely  to  be  mingled  with  something  really 
worth  reading. 

3.  It  will  not   be   expected   that  we   can   mention  many 
Italian  books,  after  what  has  been  said,  which  come  very  pre- 
cisely within  the  class  of  polite  literature,  or  claim  any  praise 
style  of      on   the  ground  of  style.     Their  greatest  luminary, 
Galileo.       Galileo,  wrote  with  clearness,  elegance,  and  spirit; 
no  one  among  the  moderns  had  so  entirely  rejected  a  dry  and 
technical   manner   of  teaching,  and  thrown  such  attractions 
round  the  form  of  truth.      Himself  a  poet  and  a  critic,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  ascribe  his  own  philosophical  perspicuity  to 
the  constant  perusal  of  Ariosto.     This  I  have  mentioned  in 

»  Vol.  3d.  p.  416.  »  Id.  »  Salfl,  xiv.  11. 


CHAP.  VII.  BENTIVOGLIO  — BOCCALINI.  337 

another  place :  but  we  cannot  too  much  remember  that  all 
objects  of  intellectual  pursuit  are  as  bodies  acting  with  reci- 
procal forces  in  one  system,  being  all  in  relation  to  the 
faculties  of  the  mind,  which  is  itself  but  one ;  and  that 
the  most  extensive  acquaintance  with  the  various  provinces  of 
literature  will  not  fail  to  strengthen  our  dominion  over  those 
we  more  peculiarly  deem  our  own.  The  school  of  Galileo, 
especially  Torricelli  and  Redi,  were  not  less  distinguished 
than  himself  for  their  union  of  elegance  with  philosophy.1 

4.  The  letters  of  Bentivoglio  are  commonly  known.     This 
epistolary  art  was  always  cultivated  by  the  Italians,  w 

„          .       J-,        -r  f  J       ,      .  .      Bentivoglio. 

first  in  the  JLatin  tongue,  and  afterwards  in  their 
own.  Bentivoglio  has  written  with  equal  dignity  and  ease. 
Galileo's  letters  are  also  esteemed  on  account  of  their  style 
as  well  as  of  what  they  contain.  In  what  is  more  peculiarly 
called  eloquence,  the  Italians  of  this  age  are  rather  emulous 
of  success  than  successful :  the  common  defects  of  taste  in 
themselves,  and  in  those  who  heard  or  read  them,  as  well  as, 
\n  most  instances,  the  uninteresting  nature  of  their  subjects, 
exclude  them  from  our  notice. 

5.  Trajan  Boccalini  was  by  his  disposition  inclined  to  poli- 
tical satire,  and  possibly  to  political  intrigue  ;  but  we    Boccaiinl!S 
have  here  only  to  mention  the  work  by  which  he  is   News  from 
best  known,  Advices  from  Parnassus  (Ragguagli  di 
Parnaso).     If  the  idea  of  this  once  popular  and  celebrated 
book  is   not   original,   which  I  should  rather  doubt,  though 
without   immediately   recognizing  a  similarity  to  any  thing 
earlier  (Lucian,  the  common  prototype,  excepted),  it  has  at 
least  been  an  original  source.     In  the  general  turn  of  Boccali- 
ni's  fictions,  and  perhaps  in  a  few  particular  instances,  we  may 
sometimes  perceive  what  a  much  greater  man  has  imitated : 
they  bear  a  certain  resemblance  to  those  of  Addison,  though 
the  vast  superiority  of  the  latter  in  felicity  of  execution  and 
variety  of  invention  may  almost  conceal  it.      The   Raggua- 
gli are  a  series  of  despatches  from  the  court  of  Apollo  on 
Parnassus,  where  he  is  surrounded  by  eminent  men  of  all 
ages.     This  fiction  becomes  in  itself  very  cold  and  monoto- 
nous ;  yet  there  is  much  variety  in  the  subjects  of  the  decisions 
made  by  the  god  with  the  advice  of  his  counsellors,  and  some 
strokes  of  satire  are  well  hit,  though  more  perhaps  fail  of 
effect.     But  we  cannot  now  catch  the  force  of  every  passage. 

»  Salfi,  xiv.  12. 
VOL.  III.  22 


838  BOCCALINI.  PART  III. 

Boccaliui  is  full  of  allusions  to  his  own  time,  even  where  the 
immediate  subject  seems  ancient.  This  book  was  published 
at  Venice  in  1612,  at  a  time  when  the  ambition  of  Spain 
was  regarded  with  jealousy  by  patriotic  Italians,  who  thought 
that  pacific  republic .  their  bulwark  and  their  glory.  He 
inveighs,  therefore,  against  the  military  spirit  and  the  profes- 
sion of  war ;  "  necessary  sometimes,  but  so  fierce  and  inhuman 
that  no  fine  expressions  can  make  it  honorable." l  Nor  is  he 
less  severe  on  the  vices  of  kings,  nor  less  ardent  in  his  eulo- 
gies of  liberty ;  the  government  of  Venice  being  reckoned,  and 
not  altogether  untruly,  an  asylum  of  free  thought  and  action 
in  comparison  with  that  of  Spain.  Aristotle,  he  reports  in 
one  of  his  despatches,  was  besieged  in  his  villa  on  Parnassus 
by  a  number  of  armed  men  belonging  to  different  princes, 
who  insisted  on  his  retracting  the  definition  he  had  given  of  a 
tyrant,  that  he  was  one  who  governed  for  his  own  good  and 
not  that  of  the  people,  because  it  would  apply  to  every  prince, 
all  reigning  for  their  own  good.  The  philosopher,  alarmed 
by  this  demand,  altered  his  definition  ;  which  was  to  run  thus, 
that  tyrants  were  certain  persons  of  old  time,  whose  race  was 
now  quite  extinct.2  Boccalini,  however,  takes  care,  in  general, 
to  mix  something  of  playfulness  with  his  satire,  so  that  it  could 
not  be  resented  without  apparent  ill-nature.  It  seems,  indeed, 
o  us,  free  from  invective,  and  rather  meant  to  sting  than  to 
wound.  But  this,  if  a  common  rumor  be  true,  did  not  secure 
him  against  a  beating  of  which  he  died.  The  style  of  Boc- 
calini is  said  by  the  critics  to  be  clear  and  fluent,  rather  than 
correct  or  elegant ;  and  he  displays  the  taste  of  his  times  by 
extravagant  metaphors.  But  to  foreigners,  who  regard  this 
less,  his  Advices  from  Parnassus,  unequal  of  course,  and 
occasionally  tedious,  must  appear  to  contain  many  ingenious 
allusions,  judicious  criticisms,  and  acute  remarks. 

6.  The  Pietra  del  Paragone  by  the  same  author  is  an  odd, 
His  pjeti*  and  rather  awkward,  mixture  of  reality  and  fiction, 
del  Par*-  all  levelled  at  the  court  of  Spain,  and  designed  to  keep 
alive  a  jealousy  of  its  ambition.  It  is  a  kind  of 
episode  or  supplement  to  the  Ragguagli  di  Pavnaso,  the  lead- 
ing invention  being  preserved.  Boccalini  is  an  interesting 
writer,  on  account  of  the  light  he  throws  on  the  history  and 
sentiments  of  Italy.  He  is  in  this  work  a  still  bolder  writer 
than  it.  the  former ;  not  only  censuring  Spain  without  mercy, 

*  R*gg.  76.  )  Id.  76. 


CHAP.  VIL  PALLAVICINO.  339 

but  even  the  Venetian  aristocracy,  observing  upon  the  inso- 
lence of  the  young  nobles  towards  the  citizens,  though  he  justi- 
fies the  senate  for  not  punishing  the  former  more  frequently 
with  death  by  public  execution,  which  would  lower  the 
nobility  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  T-hey  were,  however,  he 
says,  as  severely  punished,  when  their  conduct  was  bad,  by 
exclusion  from  offices  of  trust.  The  Pietra  del  Paragone  is  a 
kind  of  political,  as  the  Ragguagli  is  a  critical,  miscellany. 

7.  About  twenty  years  after  Boccalini,  a  young  man  ap- 
peared, by  name  Ferrante  Pallavicino,  who,  with  a   Ferrante 
fame  more  local  and  transitory,  with  less  respecta-   Paiiavi- 
bility  of  character,   and  probably  with  inferior  ta-   cmo' 
lents,  trod  to  a  certain  degree  in  his  steps.     As  Spain  had 
been  the  object  of  satire  to  the  one,  so  was  Rome  to  the  other. 
Urban  VIII.,  an  ambitious  pontiff,  and  vulnerable  in  several 
respects,  was  attacked  by   an   imprudent   and   self-confident 
enemy,  safe,  as  he  imagined,  under  the  shield  of  Venice.     But 
Pallavicino,  having  been  trepanned  into   the    power   of  the 
pope,  lost  his  head  at  Avignon.     None  of  his  writings  have 
fallen  in  my  way :  that  most  celebrated  at  the  time,  and  not 
wholly  dissimilar   in   the    conception   to   the   Advices   from 
Parnassus,  was  entitled  The  Courier  Robbed ;    a  series   of 
imaginary  letters  which  such  a  fiction  gave  him  a  pretext  for 
bringing  together.     Perhaps  we  may  consider  Pallavicino  as 
rather  a  counterpart  to  Jordano  Bruno,  in  the  satirical  charac- 
ter of  the  latter,  than  to  Boccalini.1 

8.  The  Italian  language  itself,    grammatically   considered, 
was  still  assiduously  cultivated.     The  Academicians   Dictionary 
of  Florence  published  the  first  edition  of  their  cele-  Delia 
brated  Vocabolario  della  Crusca  in  1613.     It  was  ° 
avowedly  founded  on  Tuscan  principles,  setting  up  the  four- 
teenth century  as  the  Augustan  period  of  the  language,  which 
they  disdained  to    call   Italian ;   and  though   not  absolutely 
excluding  the  great  writers  of  the  sixteenth  age,  whom  Tus- 
cany had  not  produced,  giving  in  general  a  manifest  prefer- 
ence to  their  own.     Italy  has  rebelled  against  this  tyranny 
of  Florence,  as  she  did,  in  the  Social  War,  against  that  of 
Rome.     Her  Lombard  and  Romagnol  and  Neapolitan  writers 
have  claimed  the  rights  of  equal  citizenship,  and  fairly  won 
them  in  the  field  of  literature.     The  Vocabulary  itself  was 
not  received  as  a  legislative  code.     Beni  assailed  it  by  hia 

1  Corniani,  viii  205 ;  Salfl,  xiT.  46 


340  GRAMMATICAL  WORKS.  PART  EL 

Anti-Crusca  the  same  year ;  many  invidiously  published  mar- 
ginal notes  to  point  out  the  inaccuracies  ;  and,  in  the  frequent 
revisions  and  enlargements  of  this  dictionary,  the  exclusive 
character  which  it  affected  has,  I  believe,  been  nearly  lost. 

9.  Buonmattei,  himself  a  Florentine,  was   the   first   who 

completed  an  extensive  and  methodical  grammar, 
caTwDrks*  "  developing,"  says  Tiraboschi,  "  the  whole  economy 
Buonmattei  ;anti  SyStem  of  our  language."  It  was  published 

BartoU.  .     J     .  .    °     .D 

entire,  after  some  previous  impressions  of  parts,  with 
the  title,  Delia  Lingua  Toscana,  in  1643.  This  has  been 
reckoned  a  standard  work,  both  for  its  authority,  and  for 
the  clearness,  precision,  and  elegance  with  which  it  is  writ- 
ten ;  but  it  betrays  something  of  an  academical  and  Florentine 
spirit  in  the  rigor  of  its  grammatical  criticism.1  Bartoli,  a 
Ferrarese  Jesuit,  and  a  man  of  extensive  learning,  attacked 
that  dogmatic  school,  who  were  accustomed  to  proscribe 
common  phrases  with  a  Non  si  pud  (It  cannot  be  used),  in  a 
treatise  entitled  II  torto  ed  il  diritto  del  Non  si  puo.  His 
object  was  to  justify  many  expressions  thus  authoritatively 
condemned,  by  the  examples  of  the  best  writers.  This  book 
was  a  little  later  than  the  middle  of  the  century.2 

10.  Petrarch  had  been  the  idol,  in  general,  of  the  preceding 
Tassoni's     a§e '  an<^»  above  all,  he  was  the  peculiar  divinity  of 
remarks  on  the  Florentines.     But  this  seventeenth  century  was, 

in  the  productions  of  the  mind, "a  period  of  revolu 
tionary  innovation :  men  'dared  to  ask  why,  as  well  as  what, 
they  ought  to  worship ;  and  sometimes  the  same  who  rebelled 
against  Aristotle,  as  an  infallible  guide,  were  equally  contu- 
macious in  dealing  with  the  great  names  of  literature.  Tas- 
soni  published  in  1609  his  Observations  on  the  Poems  of 
Petrarch.  They  are  not  written,  as  we  should  now  think, 
adversely  to  one  whom  he  professes  to  honor  above  all  lyric 
poets  in  the  world ;  and,  though  his  critical  remarks  are  some- 
what minute,  they  seem  hardly  unfair.  A  writer  like  Pe- 
trarch, whose  fame  has  been  raised  so  high  by  his  style,  is 
surely  amenable  to  this  severity  of  examination.  The  finest 
sonnets  Tassoni  generally  extols,  but  gives  a  preference,  on 
the  whole,  to  the  odes ;  which,  even  if  an  erroneous  judgment, 
cannot  be  called  unfair  upon  the  author  of  both.3  He  pro- 

1  Tiraboschi,  xi.  409;  Salfl,  xiii.  898.  canzoni,  per  quanto  a  mi  ne  pare,  furono 

!  Corniani,  vii.  269 ;  Sain,  xiii.  417.  quelle,  che  poeta  grande  e  famoso  lo  f«- 

*  "  T utte  le  rime,  tutti  i  versi  in  gene-  cero."  —  p.  4(3. 
rale  del  Petrarca  lo  fecero  poeta ;    ma  la 


CHAP.  TIL  SFORZA  PALLAVICIXO.  341 

duces  many  parallel  passages  from  the  Latin  poems  of 
Petrarch  himself,  as  well  as  from  the  ancients  and  from  the 
earlier  Italians  and  Provencals.  The  manner  of  Tassoni  is 
often  humorous,  original,  intrepid,  satirical  on  his  own  times : 
he  was  a  man  of  real  taste,  and  no  servile  worshipper  of 
names. 

11.  Galileo  was  less  just  in  his  observations  upon  Tasso. 
They  are  written  with  severity,  and  sometimes  an  Galileo;g 
insulting  tone  towards  the  great  poet,  passing  over  ^m^) 
generally  the  most  beautiful  verses,  though  he  some- 
times bestows  praise.  The  object  is  to  point  out  the  imita- 
tions of  Tasso  from  Ariosto,  and  his  general  inferiority.  The 
Observations  on  the  Art  of  "Writing  by  Sforza  PaUavicino, 
the  historian  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  published  sforzaPai- 
at  Rome,  1646,  is  a  work  of  general  criticism  con-  k™™0; 
taining  many  good  remarks.  What  he  says  of  imitation  is 
worthy  of  being  compared  with  Hurd;  though  he  will  be 
found  not  to  have  analyzed  the  subject  with  any  thing  like 
so  much  acuteness.  nor  was  this  to  be  expected  in  his  age. 
Pallavicino  has  an  ingenious  remark,  that  elegance  of  style  is 
produced  by  short  metaphors,  or  metaforette  as  he  calls  them, 
which  give  us  a  more  lively  apprehension  of  an  object  than  its 
proper  name.  This  seems  to  mean  only  single  words  in  a 
figurative  sense,  as  opposed  to  phrases  of  the  same  kind.  He 
writes  in  a  pleasing  manner,  and  is  an  accomplished  critic 
without  pedantry.  Salfi  has  given  rather  a  long  analysis  of 
this  treatise.1  The  same  writer,  treading  in  the  steps  ^  other 
of  Corniani,  has  extolled  some  Italian  critics  of  this  critical 

.  .  -r    ,  T>       •      writers. 

period,  whose  writings  I  have  never  seen,  —  xseni, 
author  of  a  prolix  commentary  in  Latin  on  the  Poetics  of 
Aristotle;  Peregrine,  not  inferior,  perhaps,  to  Pallavicino, 
though  less  known,  whose  theories  are  just  and  deep,  but  not 
expressed  with  sufficient  perspicuity ;  and  Fioretti,  who  as 
sumed  the  fictitious  name  of  Udeno  Nisieli,  and  presided  ovei 
an  academy  at  Florence  denominated  the  Apatisti.  The  Pro 
gymnasmi  Poetici  of  this  writer,  if  we  may  believe  Salfi,  as 
oend  to  that  higher  theory  of  criticism  which  deduces  its  rules, 
not  from  precedents  or  arbitrary  laws,  but  from  the  nature  of 
the  human  mind,  and  has,  in  modern  times,  been  distinguished 
by  the  name  of  aesthetic.2 

12.  In  the  same  class  of  polite  letters  as  these  Italian  writ- 

*  Vol.  xiii.  p.  440.  *  Comiani,  TO.  156 ;  Salfi,  xiii.  426. 


342  STRADA  —  GRACIAN.  PART  IIL 

ings,  we  may  place  the  Prolusiones  Academicae  of  Famianus 
Proiusiones  Strada,  They  are  agreeably  written,  and  bespeak 
ofstrada.  a  cultivated  taste.  The  best  is  the  sixth  of  the 
second  book,  containing  the  imitations  of  six  Latin  poets, 
which  Addison  has  made  well  known  (as  I  hope)  to  every 
reader  in  the  115th  and  119th  numbers  of  the  Guardian.  It 
is  here  that  all  may  judge  of  this  happy  and  graceful  fiction ; 
but  those  who  have  read  the  Latin  imitations  themselves  will 
perceive  that  Strada  has  often  caught  the  tone  of  the  ancients 
with  considerable  felicity.  Lucan  and  Ovid  are,  perhaps,  best 
counterfeited,  Virgil  not  quite  so  well,  and  Lucretius  worst  of 
the  six.  The  other  two  are  Statius  and  Claudian.1  In  almost 
every  instance,  the  subject  chosen  is  appropriated  to  the  cha- 
racteristic peculiarities  of  the  poet. 

13.  The  style  of  Gongora,  which  deformed  the  poetry  of 
Spanish       Spain,  extended  its  influence  over  prose.     A  writer 
prose:        named  Gracian  (it  seems  to  be  doubtful  which  of 
Grecian,      two  brothers,  Lorenzo  and  Balthazar)  excelled  Gon- 
gora himself  in  the  affectation,  the  refinement,  the  obscurity 
of  his  style.      "  The  most  voluminous  of  his   works,"  says 
Bouterwek,  "  bears  the  affected  title  of  El  Criticon.     It  is  an 
allegorical  picture  of  the  whole  course  of  human  life,  divided 
into  Crises,  that  is  sections,  according  to  fixed  points  of  view, 
and  clothed  in  the  formal  garb  of  a  pompous  romance.     It  is 
scarcely  possible  to  open  any  page  of  this  book  without  recog- 
nizing in  the  author  a  man  who  is  in  many  respects  far  from 
common,  but  who,  from  the  ambition  of  being  entirely  uncom- 
mon in  thinking  and  writing,  studiously  and  ingeniously  avoids 
nature  and  good  taste.     A  profusion  of  the  most  ambiguous 
subtleties  expressed  in  ostentatious  language  are   scattered 
throughout  the  work ;  and  these  are  the  more  offensive,  in 
Consequence  of  their  union  with  the  really  grand  view  of  the 
relationship  of  man  to  nature  and  his  Creator,  which  forms 
the  subject  of  the  treatise.     Gracian  would  have  been  an  ex- 
cellent writer,  had   he   not  so  anxiously  wished   to  be  an 
extraordinary  one." 2 

14.  The  writings  of  Gracian  seem,  in  general,  to  be  the 
quintessence  of  bad  taste.     The  worst  of  all,  probably,  is  El 
Eroe,  which  is  admitted  to  be  almost  unintelligible  by  the 

1  A  writer,  quoted  in  Blount's  Censura  Autorum,  p.  859,  praises  the  imitation  of 
Claudian  above  the  rest,  but  thinks  all  excellent. 

2  Ilist  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  533. 


Vn.  FRENCH  PROSE.  343 

number  of  far-fetched  expressions,  though  there  is  more  than 
one  French  translation  of  it.  El  Politico  Fernando,  a  pane- 
gyric on  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  seems  as  empty  as  it  is 
affected  and  artificial.  The  style  of  Gracian  is  always  pointed, 
emphatic,  full  of  that  which  looks  like  profundity  or  novelty, 
though  neither  deep  nor  new.  He  seems  to  have  written  on 
a  maxim  he  recommends  to  the  man  of  the  world :  "  If  he 
desires  that  all  should  look  up  to  him,  let  him  permit  himself 
to  be  known,  but  not  to  be  understood." *  His  treatise  entitled 
Agudeza  y  Arte  di  Ingenio  is  a  system  of  concetti,  digested 
under  their  different  heads,  and  selected  from  Latin,  Italian, 
and  Spanish  writers  of  that  and  the  preceding  age.  It  is  said 
in  the  Biographic  Universelle,  that  this  work,  though  too 
metaphysical,  is  useful  in  the  critical  history  of  literature. 
Gracian  obtained  a  certain  degree  of  popularity  in  France 
and  England. 

15.  The  general  taste  of  French  writers  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  as  we  have  seen,  was  simple  and  lively,  full  y^^j, 
of  sallies  of  natural  wit  and  a  certain  archness  of  ob-  prose : 
servation,  but  deficient  in  those  higher  qualities  of 
language  which  the  study  of  the  ancients  had  taught  men  to 
adrnire.  In  public  harangues,  in  pleadings,  and  in  sermons, 
these  characteristics  of  the  French  manner  were  either  intro- 
duced out  of  place,  or  gave  way  to  a  tiresome  pedantry.  Du 
Vair  was  the  first  who  endeavored  to  bring  in  a  more  elabo- 
rate and  elevated  diction.  Nor  was  this  confined  to  the  ex- 
ample he  gave.  In  1607  he  published  a  treatise  on  French 
eloquence,  and  on  the  causes  through  which  it  had  remained 
at  so  low  a  point.  This  work  relates  chiefly  to  the  eloquence 
of  the  bar,  or  at  least  that  of  public  speakers  ;  and  the  causes 
which  he  traces  are  chiefly  such  as  would  operate  on  that 
kind  alone.  But  some  of  his  observations  are  applicable  to 
style  in  the  proper  sense ;  and  his  treatise  has  been  reckoned 
the  first  which  gave  France  the  rules  of  good  writing,  and  the 
desire  to  practise  them.2  A  modern  critic,  who  censures  the 
Latinisms  of  Du  Vair's  style,  admits  that  his  treatise  on  elo- 
quence makes  an  epoch  in  the  language.8 

1  "  Si  quiere  que  le  reneren  todos,  per-  Baillet.    Gonjet  has  copied  or  abridged 
jnitase  al  conocimiento,  no  a  la  compre-  Gibert.  without  distinct  acknowledgment, 
Uension.''  and  not  always  carefully  preserving  the 

2  Gibert,  Jugwnens  des  Savans  sur  les  sense. 

auteurs  qui  ont  traite  de  la  rhetorique.  3  NeufchSteau,  preface  aux  CBorrea 
This  work  is  annexed  to  some  editions  of  de  Pascal,  p.  181 


344  BALZAC.  PART  in. 

16.  A  more  distinguished  era,  however,  is  dated  from  1625, 
Balzac  wher.  the  letters  of  Balzac  were  published.1  There 

had  indeed  been  a  few  intermediate  works,  which 
contributed,  though  now  little  known,  to  the  improvement  of 
the  language.  Among  these,  the  translation  of  Florus  by 
Coeffeteau  was  reckoned  a  masterpiece  of  French  style ;  and 
Vaugelas  refers  more  frequently  to  this  than  to  any  other 
book.  The  French  were  very  strong  in  translations  from  the 
classical  writers ;  and  to  this  they  are  certainly  much  indebted 
or  the  purity  and  correctness  which  they  reached  in  their 
own  language.  These  translators,  however,  could  only  occupy 
a  secondary  place.  Balzac  himself  is  hardly  read.  "  The 
polite  world,"  it  was  said  a  hundred  years  since,  "knows 
Character  notning  now  of  these  works,  which  were  once  its 
of  his  writ-  delight."2  But  his  writings  are  not  formed  to  delight 

those  who  wish  either  to  be  merry  or  wise,  to  laugh 
or  to  learn ;  yet  he  has  real  merits,  besides  those  which  may  be 
deemed  relative  to  the  age  in  which  he  came.  His  language 
is  polished,  his  sentiments  are  just,  but  sometimes  common, 

1  The  same  writer  fixes  on  this  as  an  tous  les  mots  avec  tant  d'ordre  et  de  jus- 
epoch,  and  it  was  generally  admitted  in  tesse  qu'il  ne  laisse  rien  de  mol  ni  de  foible 
the  seventeenth  century.  The  editor  of  dans  son  discours,"  &c.  This  regard 
Balzac's  Works  in  1665  says,  after  speak-  to  the  cadence  of  his  periods  is  characteris 
ing  of  the  unformed  state  of  the  French  tic  of  Balzac.  It  has  not,  in  general,  been 
language,  full  of  provincial  idioms  and  niuch  practised  in  France,  notwithstand- 
incorrect  phrases  :  "  M.  de  Balzac  est  venu  ing  some  splendid  exceptions,  especially 
en  ce  temps  de  confusion  et  de  desordre,  in  Bossuet.  Olivet  observes,  that  it  was 
ou  toutes  les  lectures  qu'il  faisoit  et  toutes  the  peculiar  glory  of  Balzac  to  have  shown 
les  actions  qu'il  entendoit  lui  devoient  the  capacity  of  the  language  for  "this 
fetre  suspectes,  ou  il  avoit  a  se  defier  de  rhythm.  Hist,  de  1'Acad.  i'ranijaise,  p.  84. 
tous  les  maitres  et  de  tous  les  exemples;  But  has  not  Du  Vair  some  claim  also? 
et  ou  il  ne  pouvoit  arriver  i  son  but  qu'en  Neufchateau  gives  a  much  more  limited 
s'eloignant  de  tous  les  chemins  battus,  ni  eulogy  of  Balzac.  "  II  avoit  pris  4  la  lettre 
marcher  dans  la  bonne  route  qu'apres  se  les  reflexions  de  Du  Vair  sur  la  trop 
1'etre  ouverte  i  lui-meme.  II  1'a  ouverte  grande  bassesse  de  notre  eloquence.  11 
en  effet,  et  pour  lui  et  pour  les  autres ;  s'en  forma  une  haute  id£e ;  mais  il  se 
il  y  a  fait  entrer  un  grand  nombre  d'heu-  trompe  d'abord  dans  1'application,  oar  il 
reux  genies,  dont  il  etoit  le  guide  et  le  porta  dans  le  style  epistolaire  qui  doit 
modele :  et  si  la  France  voit  aujourd'hui  etre  familicr  et  16ger,  Tenflure  hyperbo- 
que  ses  6crivains  sont  plus  polis  et  plus  lique,  la  pompe,  et  le  nombre,  "qui  ne 
ivguliers  que  reux  d'Espagne  et  d'ltalie,  convient  qu'aux  grandes  declamations  ot 
i\  faut  qu'elle  en  rende  1'honneur  i  ce  aux  harangues  oratoires.  .  .  .  Ce  defaut 
grand  homme,  dont  la  memoire  lui  doit  de  Balzac  contribua  peut-etre  a  son  suc- 
etre  en  v6n6ration.  ...  La  m6me  obliga-  ces  ;  car  le  gout  n'6toit  pas  form6 ;  mais 
*ion  que  nous  avons  a  M.  de  Malherbe  il  se  corrigea  dans  la  suite,  et  en  paroou- 
pour  la  poesie.  nous  1'avons  &  M.  de  Balzac  rant  son  recueil  on  s'apercoit  des  progres 
pour  la  prose;  il  lui  a  present  des  bornes  sensibles  qu'il  feisojt  avec  1'age.  Ce  re- 
et  des  regies:  il  lui  a  donn6  de  la  dou-  cueil  si  precieux  pour  Thistoire  de  notre 
ceur  et  de  la  force,  il  a  montre  que  1'elo-  litterature  a  eu  long  temps  une  vogue 
quence  doit  avoir  des  accords,  aussi-bien  extraordinaire.  Nos  plus  grands  auteur* 
quelamusique,  et  il  a  s^u  meler  si  adt-.tite-  1'avoient  bien  etudi6.  Moliere  lui  a  em- 
inent cette  diversite  de  sons  et  de  cadences,  prunte  quelques  idees." 
qu'il  n'est  point  de  plus  delicieux  concert  2  Goujet,  i.  ^6. 
que  celui  de  ses  paroles.  C'est  en  placant 


CHAP.  TIL  HIS  LETTERS.  345 

the  cadence  of  his  periods  is  harmonious,  but  too  artificial 
and  uniform :  on  the  whole,  he  approaches  to  the  tone  of  t 
a  languid  sermon,  and  leaves  a  tendency  to  yawn.  But,  in 
his  time,  superficial  truths  were  not  so  much  proscribed  as  at 
present:  the  same  want  of  depth  belongs  to  almost  all  the 
moralists  in  Italian  and  in  modern  Latin.  Balzac  is  a  mo- 
ralist with  a  pure  heart,  and  a  love  of  truth  and  virtue  (some- 
what alloyed  by  the  spirit  of  flattery  towards  persons,  however 
he  may  declaim  about  courts  and  courtiers  in  general),  a  com- 
petent erudition,  and  a  good  deal  of  observation  of  the  world. 
In  his  Aristippe,  addressed  to  Christina,  and  consequently  a 
late  work,  he  deals  much  in  political  precepts  and  remarks, 
some  of  which  might  be  read  with  advantage.  But  he  was 
accused  of  borrowing  his  thoughts  from  the  ancients,  which 
the  author  of  an  Apology  for  Balzac  seems  not  wholly  to 
deny.  This  apology  indeed  had  been  produced  by  a  book  on 
the  Conformity  of  the  eloquence  of  M.  Balzac  with  that 
of  the  ancients. 

17,  The  letters  of  Balzac  are  in  twenty-seven  books:  they 
begin  in  1620,  and  end  about  1653  ;  the  first  portion 
having  appeared  in  1625.     "  He  passed  all  his  life," 

says  Vigneul-Marville,  "  in  writing  letters,  without  ever  catch- 
ing the  right  characteristics  of  that  style." *  This  demands  a 
peculiar  ease  and  naturalness  of  expression,  for  want  of  which 
they  seem  no  genuine  exponents  of  friendship  or  gallantry, 
and  hardly  of  polite  manners.  His  wit  was  not  free  from  pe- 
dantry, and  did  not  come  from  him  spontaneously.  Hence  he 
was  little  fitted  to  address  ladies,  even  the  Rambouillets ;  and 
indeed  he  had  acquired  so  labored  and  artificial  a  way  of 
writing  letters,  that  even  those  to  his  sister,  though  affec- 
tionate, smell  too  much  of  the  lamp.  His  advocates  admit, 
that  they  are  to  be  judged  rather  by  the  rules  of  oratorical 
than  epistolary  composition. 

18.  In  the  moral  dissertations,  such  as  that  entitled  the 
Prince,  this  elaborate  manner  is,  of  course,  not  less  discerni- 
ble, but  not  so  unpleasant  or  out  of  place.     Balzac  has  been 
called  the  father   of  the  French  language,  the   master  and 
model  of  the  great  men  who  have  followed  him.     But  it  is 
confessed  by  all,  that  he  wanted  the  fine  taste  to  regulate  his 

1  Melanges  de  latterature,  vol.  i.  p.  126.  the  name  of  Vigneul-Marville.  which  he  as- 

tie  adds,  however,  that  Balzac  had  "  un  sumed,  was  D'Argonne,  a  Benedictin*  of 

talent  particulier  pour  embellir  notre  Ian-  Rouen 
gue."    The  writer  whom  I  quote  under 


346  VOITTJRE.  PAST  ra. 

style  according  to  the  subject      Hence  he  is  pompous  and 

inflated  upon  ordinary  topics ;  and,  in  a  country  so  quick  to 

'seize   the  ridiculous  as  his  own,  not  all  his  nobleness  and 

purity  of  style,  not  the  passages  of  eloquence  which  we  often 

find,  have  been  sufficient  to  redeem  him  from  the  sarcasms 

of  those  who  have  had  more  power  to- amuse.    The  stateliness, 

however,  of  Balzac  is  less  offensive  and  extravagant  than  the 

affected  intensity  of  language  which  distinguishes  the  style  of 

the  present  age  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel,  and  which  is  in 

fact  a  much  worse  modification  of  the  same  fault. 

19.  A  contemporary  and  rival  of  Balzac,  though  very  unlike 

in  most  respects,  was  Voiture.     Both  one  and  the 

Voiture.  ,  ...,.,.-..  .-.. 

Hotel  other  were  received  with  friendship  and  admiration  in 
Rambouii-  a  ceieorated  society  of  Paris,  the  first  which,  on  this 
side  of  the  Alps,  united  the  aristocracy  of  rank  and 
of  genius  in  one  circle,  that  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet.  Cath- 
erine de  Vivonne,  widow  of  the  Marquis  de  Rambouillet,  was 
the  owner  of  this  mansion.  It  was  frequented,  during  the 
long  period  of  her  life,  by  all  that  was  distinguished  in  France, 
by  Richelieu  and  Conde,  as  much  as  by  Corneille,  and  a  long 
host  of  inferior  men  of  letters.  The  heiress  of  this  family, 
Julie  d'Angeunes,  beautiful  and  highly  accomplished,  became 
the  central  star  of  so  bright  a  galaxy.  The  love  of  intellect- 
ual attainments,  both  in  mother  and  daughter,  the  sympathy 
and  friendship  they  felt  for  those  who  displayed  them,  as  well 
as  their  moral  worth,  must  render  their  names  respectable ; 
but  these  were  in  some  measure  sullied  by  false  taste,  and 
what  we  may  consider  an  habitual  affectation  even  in  their 
conduct.  We  can  scarcely  give  another  name  to  the  caprice 
of  Julia,  who,  in  the  fashion  of  romance,  compelled  the  Duke 
of  Montausier  to  carry  on  a  twelve  years'  courtship,  and  only 
married  him  in  the  decline  of  her  beauty.  This  patient  lover, 
himself  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  court  of  Louis 
XIV.,  had,  many  years  before,  in  1633,  presented  her  with 
what  has  been  called  the  Garland  of  Julia,  a  collection  to 
which  the  poets  and  wits  of  Paris  had  contributed.  Every 
flower,  represented  in  a  drawing,  had  its  appropriate  little 
poem ;  and  all  conspired  to  the  praise  of  Julia.1 

20.  Voiture  is  chiefly  known  by  his  letters  :  his  other  writ- 
ings at  least  are  inferior.     These  begin  about  1627,  and  are 

1  [Two  copies  were  made  of  the  Quir-  to  see  either,  but  as  a  remarkable  favor 
liindc  de  Julie  ;  but,  in  the  usual  style  of  Huet,  who  tells  us  this,  was  one.  Hue- 
the  Rumbouillets,  no  one  was  admitted  tiana,  p.  101.  — 1842.] 


CHAP.  VH.  HIS  LETTERS.  347 

addressed  to  Madame  de  Rambouillet  and  to  several  other 
persons  of  both  sexes.  Though  much  too  labored  and  affect- 
ed, they  are  evidently  the  original  type  of  the  French  episto- 
lary school,  including  those  in  England  who  have  formed 
themselves  upon  it.  Pope  very  frequently  imitated  Voiture ; 
Walpole  not  so  much  in  his  general  correspondence,  but  he 
knew  how  to  fall  into  it.  The  object  was  to  say  what  meant 
little,  with  the  utmost  novelty  in  the  mode,  and  with  the 
most  ingenious  compliment  to  the  person  addressed ;  so  that 
he  should  admire  himself  and  admire  the  writer.  They  are, 
of  course,  very  tiresome  after  a  short  time  ;  yet  their  ingenuity 
is  not  without  merit.  Balzac  is  more  solemn  and  dignified, 
and  it  must  be  owned  that  he  has  more  meaning.  Voiture 
seems  to  have  fancied  that  good  sense  spoils  a  man  of  wit. 
But  he  has  not  so  much  wit  as  esprit ;  and  his  letters  serve 
to  exemplify  the  meaning  of  that  word.  Pope,  in  addressing 
ladies,  was  nearly  the  ape  of  Voiture.  It  was  unfortunately 
thought  necessary,  in  such  a  correspondence,  either  to  affect 
despairing  love,  which  was  to  express  itself  with  all  possible 
gayety,  or,  where  love  was  too  presumptuous,  as  with  the 
Rambouillets,  to  pour  out  a  torrent  of  nonsensical  flattery, 
which  was  to  be  rendered  tolerable  by  far-fetched  turns  of 
thought.  Voiture  has  the  honor  of  having  rendered  this  style 
fasliionable.  But,  if  the  bad  taste  of  others  had  not  perverted 
his  own,  Voiture  would  have  been  a  good  writer.  His  letters, 
especially  those  written  from  Spain,  are  sometimes  truly  witty, 
and  always  vivacious.  Voltaire,  who  speaks  contemptuously 
of  Voiture,  might  have  been  glad  to  have  been  th6  author  of 
some  of  his  jeux  d' esprit ;  that,  for  example,  addressed  to  the 
Prince  of  Conde  in  the  character  of  a  pike,  founded  on  a 
game  where  the  prince  had  played  that  fish.  We  should 
remember,  also,  that  Voiture  held  his  place  in  good  society 
upon  the  tacit  condition  that  he  should  always  strive  to  be 
witty.1 

21.  But  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  with  its  false  theories  of 
taste  derived  in  a  great  measure  from  the  romances  of 
Scudery  and  Calprenede,  and  encouraged  by  the  agreeably 
artificial  manner  of  Voiture,  would  have  produced,  in  all  pro- 

1  Nothing,  says  Olivet,  could  be  more  imagination  enjouee,   qui   faisoit  prendre 

opposite  than  l?alzac  and  Voiture.     "  L'un  a  toutes  ses  pensces  un  air  de  galanterie 

Be  portoit   toujours  au   sublime,   1'autre  L'un,   meme  lorsqu'U  vouloit  plaisanter, 

toujours  au  delicat.     L'un  avoit  une  ima-  6toit  toujours  grave  ;    1'autre,   dans   les 

ginution  elevee  qui  jetoit  de  la  noblesse  occasions  merne  serieuses,  trouvoit  a  rit«  " 

daux   lea  woiudrcs  choses ;    1'autre,  uue  Hist,  de  1' Academic,  p.  83. 


848  FRENCH  ACADEMY.  PART  III. 

bability,  but  a  transient  effect.     A  far  more  imporant  event 
was    the    establishment   of   the    French   Academy. 

Establish-      -.,,  ITT  •    •   . 

ment  of  France  was  ruled  by  a  great  minister,  who  loved  her 
Icadelny  gl°rv  an(^  n^8  °wn-  This,  indeed,  has  been  common 
to  many  statesmen  ;  but  it  was  a  more  peculiar  honor 
to  Richelieu,  that  he  felt  the  dignity  which  letters  conferred 
on  a  nation.  He  was  himself  not  deficient  in  literary  taste  : 
his  epistolary  style  is  manly,  and  not  without  elegance:  he 
wrote  theology  in  his  own  name,  and  history  in  that  of  Meze- 
ray  ;  but,  what  is  most  to  the  present  purpose,  his  remarkable 
fondness  for  the  theatre  led  him  not  only  to  invent  subjects  for 
other  poets,  but,  as  it  has  been  believed,  to  compose  one 
forgotten  tragi-comedy,  Miraine,  without  assistance.1  He 
availed  himself,  fortunately,  of  an  opportunity  which  almost 
every  statesman  would  have  disregarded,  to  found  the  most 
illustrious  institution  in  the  annals  of  polite  literature. 

22.  The  French  Academy  sprang  from  a  private  society  of 
men  of  letters  at  Paris,  who,  about  the  year  1629,  agreed  to 
meet  once  a  week,  as  at  an  ordinary  visit,  conversing  on  all 
subjects,  and  especially  on  literature.  Such  among  them  as 
were  authors  communicated  their  works,  and  had  the  advan- 
tage of  free  and  fair  criticism.  This  continued  for  three  or 
four  years  with  such  harmony  and  mutual  satisfaction,  that 
the  old  men,  who  remembered  this  period,  says  their  historian, 
Pelisson,  looked  back  upon  it  as  a  golden  age.  They  were 
but  nine  in  number,  of  whom  Gombauld  and  Chapelain  are 
the  only  names  by  any  means  famous ;  and  their  meetings 
were  at  first  very  private.  More  by  degrees  were  added, 
among  others  Boisrobert,  a  favorite  of  Richelieu,  who  liked 
to  hear  from  him  the  news  of  the  town.  The  Cardinal, 
pleased  with  the  account  of  this  society,  suggested  their  public 
establishment.  This,  it  is  said,  was  unpleasing  to  every  one 
of  them,  and  some  proposed  to  refuse  it :  but  the  consideration, 
that  the  offers  of  such  a  man  were  not  to  be  slighted,  over- 
powered their  modesty ;  and  they  consented  to  become  a  royal 
institution.  They  now  enlarged  their  numbers,  created  officers, 
and  began  to  keep  registers  of  their  proceedings.  These 
records  commence  on  March  13,  1634,  and  are  the  basis  of 
Pelissou's  history.  The  name  of  French  Academy  was 
chosen  after  some  deliberation.  They  were  established  by 
letters  patent  in  January,  1635,  which  the  Parliament  of  Paris 

1  Fontenelle,  Hist,  du  Theitw,  ,*.  96. 


CHAP.  HI.       ITS  OBJECTS  AXD  CONSTITUTION.  349 

enregistered  with  great  reluctance,  requiring  not  only  a  letter 
from  Richelieu,  but  an  express  order  from  the  king ;  and 
when  this  was  completed  in  July,  1637,  it  was  with  a  singu- 
lar proviso,  that  the  Academy  should  meddle  with  nothing  but 
the  embellishment  and  improvement  of  the  French  language, 
and  such  books  as  might  be  written  by  themselves,  or  by  oth- 
ers who  should  desire  their  interference.  This  learned  body 
of  lawyers  had  some  jealousy  of  the  innovations  of  Richelieu  ; 
and  one  of  them  said  it  reminded  him  of  the  satire  of  Juve- 
nal, where  the  senate,  after  ceasing  to  bear  its  part  in  public 
affairs,  was  consulted  about  the  sauce  for  a  turbot.1 

23.  The  professed  object  of  the  Academy  was  to  purify  the 
language  from  vulgar,  technical,  or  ignorant  usages,  ItB  ^^^ 
and  to  establish  a  fixed  standard.     The   Academi-  andconsti- 
cians  undertook  to  guard  scrupulously  the  correctness 

of  their  own  works,  examining  the  arguments,  the  method,  the 
style,  the  structure  of  each  particular  word.  It  was  proposed 
by  one  that  they  should  swear  not  to  use  any  word  which  had 
been  rejected  by  a  plurality  of  votes.  They  soon  began  to 
labor  in  their  vocation,  always  bringing  words  to  the  test  of 
good  usage,  and  deciding  accordingly.  These  decisions  are 
recorded  in  their  registers.  Their  number  was  fixed  by  the 
letters  patent  at  forty,  having  a  director,  chancellor,  and  secre- 
tary ;  the  two  former  changed  every  two,  afterwards  every 
three  months,  the  last  chosen  for  life.  They  read  discourses 
weekly,  which,  by  the  titles  of  some  that  Pelisson  has  given 
u-.  seem  rather  trifling  and  in  the  style  of  the  Italian  acade- 
mies ;  but  this  practice  was  soon  disused.  Their  more  impor- 
tant and  ambitious  occupations  were  to  compile  a  dictionary 
and  a  grammar :  Chapelain  drew  up  the  scheme  of  the  former, 
in  which  it  was  determined,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  to  give  no 
quotations,  but  to  form  it  from  about  twenty-six  good  authors 
in  prose,  and  twenty  in  verse.  Yaugelas  was  intrusted  with 
the  chief  direction  of  this  work. 

24.  The  Academy  was  subjected,  in  its  very  infancy,  to  a 
severe  trial  of  that  literary  integrity  without  which  T 

!  f-,-  It  publishes 

such  an  institution  can  only  escape  from  being  per-  a  critique 
nicijus  to  the  republic  of  letteis  by  becoming  too  ontheCld- 
despicable  and  odious  to  produce  mischief.     On  the  appear 
ance  of  the  Cid,  Richelieu,  who  had  taken  up  a  strong  preju- 
dice against  it,  insisted  that  the  Academy  should  publish  their 

1  Pelisson  Hist,  de  1'Academie  Francis*. 


350  FRENCH  ACADEMY.  PART  III. 

opinion  on  this  play.  The  more  prudei.1  part  of  that  body 
were  very  loath  to  declare  themselves  at  so  early  a  period  of 
their  own  existence :  but  the  Cardinal  was  not  apt  to  take 
excuses ;  and  a  committee  of  three  was  appointed  to  examine 
the  Cid  itself,  and  the  observations  upon  it  which  Scudery 
had  already  published.  Five  months  elapsed  before  the  Sen- 
timens  de  PAcademie  Fran^aise  sur  la  Tragedie  du  Cid  were 
made  public  in  November,  1637.1  These  are  expressed  Avith 
much  respect  for  Corneille,  and  profess  to  be  drawn  up 
with  his  assent,  as  well  as  at  the  instance  of  Scudery.  It  has 
been  not  uncommon  to  treat  this  criticism  as  a  servile  homage 
to  power.  But  a  perusal  of  it  will  not  lead  us  to  confirm  so 
severe  a  reproach.  The  Sentimens  de  1' Academic  are  drawn 
up  with  great  good  sense  and  dignity.  The  spirit,  indeed,  of 
critical  orthodoxy  is  apparent ;  yet  this  was  surely  pardonable 
in  an  age  when  the  violation  of  rules  had  as  yet  produced 
nothing  but  such  pieces  as  those  of  Hardy.  It  is  easy  to 
sneer  at  Aristotle  when  we  have  a  Shakspeare  ;  but  Aristotle 
formed  his  rules  on  the  practice  of  Sophocles.  The  Academy 
could  not  have  done  better  than  by  inculcating  the  soundest 
maxims  of  criticism  ;  but  they  were  a  little  too  narrow  in  their 
application.  The  particular  judgments  which  they  pass  on 
each  scene  of  the  play,  as  well  as  those  on  the  style,  seem  for 
the  most  part  very  just,  and  such  as  later  critics  have  gene- 
rally adopted ;  so  that  we  can  really  see  little  ground  for  the 
allegation  of  undue  compliance  with  the  Cardinal's  prejudices, 
except  in  the  frigid  tone  of  their  praise,  and  in  their  omission 
to  proclaim  that  a  great  dramatic  genius  had  arisen  in  France.2 
But  this  is  so  much  the  common  vice  or  bh'ndness  of  critics, 
that  it  may  have  sprung  less  from  baseness  than  from  a  fear 
to  compromise  their  own  superiority  by  vulgar  admiration. 
The  Academy  had  great  pretensions,  and  Corneille  was  not 
yet  the  Corneille  of  France  and  of  the  world. 

1  Pellison.     The  printed  edition  bears  doit  pas  toute  a  son  bonheur,  et  la  nature 

the  date  of  1638.  lui  a  et6  assez  liberate  pour  excuser  la 

*  They    conclude   by  saying,  that,   in  fortune  si  elle  lui  a  ete  prodigue." 
spite  of  the  faults  of  this  play,  "  la  na'ivete        The  Academy,  justly,  in  my  opinion, 

et  la  vehemence  de  ses  passions,  la  force  blame  Corneille  for  making  Chimene  con- 

et  la  delicatesse  de  plusieurs  de  ses  pen-  sent  to  marry  Rodrigue  the  same  day  that 

sees,  et  cet  agrement  inexplicable  qui  se  he  had  killed  her  father.     "  Cela  surpass* 

mele  dans  tous  ses  defauts  lui  ont  acquis  tout  Forte  de  creance,  et  ne  peut  vraisem- 

un   rang    considerable  entre  les  poemes  blablement  tomber  dans  1'ame  non  seule 

Fran^ais  de  ce  genre  qui  ont  le  plus  doiine  nient  d'une  sage  fille,  mais  d'une  qui  seroit 

de  satisfaction.     Si  1'auteur  ne  doit  pas  le  plus  depouille  d'honneur  et  d'huma. 

toute  sa  reputation  a  son  merite,  il  ne  la  nite,"  &c.  — p.  49. 


CHAP.  VH.  VAUGELAS  — LE  VAYEB.  351 

25.  Gibert,  Goujet,  and  other  writers  enumerate  several 
works  on  the  grammar  of  the  French  language  in 

this  period.  But  they  were  superseded;  and  we 
may  almost  say.  that  an  era  was  made  in  the  national 
literature,  by  the  publication  of  Vaugelas.  Remarques 
sur  la  Langue  Frarraise.  in  1649.  Thomas  Corneille,  who,  as 
well  as  Patru,  published  notes  on  Vaugelas,  observes  that  the 
language  has  only  been  written  with  politeness  since  the  ap- 
pearance of  these  remarks.  They  were  not  at  first  received 
with  general  approbation,  and  some  even  in  later  times 
thought  them  too  scrupulous ;  but  they  gradually  became  of 
established  authority.  Vaugelas  is  always  clear,  modest,  and 
ingenuous  in  stating  his  opinion.  Hia  remarks  are  547  in 
number ;  no  gross  fault  being  noticed,  nor  any  one  which  is 
not  found  in  good  authors.  He  seldom  mentions  those  whom 
he  censures.  His  test  of  correct  language  is  the  manner 
of  speaking  in  use  with  the  best  part  (la  plus  saine  partie)  of 
the  court,  conformably  with  the  manner  of  writing  in  the  best 
part  of  contemporary  authors.  But  though  we  must  have 
recourse  to  good  authors  in  order  to  establish  an  indisputably 
good  usage,  yet  the  court,  he  thinks,  contributes  incomparably 
more  than  books ;  the  consent  of  the  latter  being  as  it  were 
the  seal  and  confirmation  of  what  is  spoken  at  court,  and  deci- 
ding what  is  there  doubtful.  And  those  who  study  the  best 
authors  get  rid  of  many  faults  common  at  court,  and  acquire  a 
peculiar  purity  of  style.  None,  however,  can  dispense  with 
a  knowledge  of  what  is  reckoned  good  language  at  court ;  since 
much  that  is  spoken  there  will  hardly  be  found  in  books.  In 
writing,  it  is  otherwise  ;  and  he  admits  that  the  study  of  good 
authors  will  enable  us  to  write  well,  though  we  shall  write 
still  better  by  knowing  how  to  speak  well.  Vaugelas  tells 
us,  that  his  knowledge  was  acquired  by  long  practice  at 
court,  and  by  the  conversation  of  Cardinal  Perron  and  of 
Coeffeteau. 

26.  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  in  his  Considerations  sur  1'Elo- 
quence  Franchise,  1647,  has  endeavored  to  steer  a  ia.  Mothe 
middle  course  between  the  old  and  the  new  schools  le  VaJ er- 
of  French  style,  but  with  a  marked  desire  to  withstand  the 
latter.     He  blames  Du  Vair  for  the  strange  and  barbarous 
words  he  employs.      He  laughs  also  at  the  nicety  of  those 
who  were  beginning  to  object  to  a  number  of  common  French 
words.     One  would  not  use   the  conjunction  Car;    against 


352  PATRTT.  PAET  III. 

which  folly,  Le  Vayer  wrote  a  separate  treatise.1  He  defends 
the  use  of  quotations  in  a  different  language,  which  some 
purists  in  French  style  had  in  horror.  But  this  treatise 
seems  not  to  contain  much  that  is  valuable,  and  it  is  very 
diffuse. 

27.  Two  French  writers  may  be  reckoned  worthy  of  a 
Legal  place  in  this  chapter,  who  are,  from  the  nature  of 
.speeches  their  works,  not  generally  known  out  of  their  own 
tru>  country,  and  whom  I  cannot  refer  \\ith  absolute  pro- 
priety to  this  rather  than  to  the  ensuing  period,  except  by  a 
certain  character  and  manner  of  writing,  which  belongs  more 
to  the  earlier  than  the  later  moiety  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. These  were  two  lawyers,  Patru  and  Le  Maistre.  The 
pleadings  of  Patru  appear  to  me  excellent  in  their  particular 
line  of  forensic  eloquence,  addressed  to  intelligent  and  experi- 
enced judges.  They  greatly  resemble  what  are  called  the 
private  orations  of  Demosthenes,  and  those  of  Lysias  and 
Isaeus,  especially,  perhaps,  the  last.  No  ambitious  ornament, 
no  appeal  to  the  emotions  of  the  heart,  no  bold  figures  of 
rhetoric,  are  permitted  in  the  Attic  severity  of  this  style ;  or, 
if  they  ever  occur,  it  js  to  surprise  us  as  tilings  rather  uncom- 
mon in  the  place  where  they  appear  than  in  themselves. 
Patru  does  not  even  employ  the  exordium  usual  in  speeches, 
but  rushes  instantaneously,  though  always  perspicuously,  into 
his  statement  of  the  case.  In  the  eyes  of  many,  this  is  no  elo- 
quence at  all;  and  it  requires  perhaps  some  taste  for  legal 
reasoning  to  enter  fully  into  its  merit.  But  the  Greek  ora- 
tors are  masters  whom  a  modern  lawyer  need  not  blush  to 
follow,  and  to  follow,  as  Patru  did,  in  their  respect  for  the  tri- 
bunal they  addressed.  They  spoke  to  rather  a  numerous  body 
of  judges ;  but  those  were  Athenians,  and,  as  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  the  best  and  most  upright,  the  salt  of  that  vicious 
city.  Patru  again  spoke  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  men  too 
well  versed  in  the  ways  of  law  and  justice  to  be  the  dupes  of 
tinkling  sound.  He  is  therefore  plain,  lucid,  well  arranged, 
but  not  emphatic  or  impetuous  :  the  subjects  of  his  published 
speeches  would  not  admit  of  such  qualities,  though  Patru  is 
said  to  have  employed  on  some  occasions  the  burning  words 
of  the  highest  oratory.  His  style  has  always  been  reckoned 
purely  and  rigidly  French:  but  I  have  been  led  rather  to 

1  This  was  Gomberville,  in  whose  im-    a  discovery  which  does  vast  honor  to  the 
mense    romance,   Polexandre,   it  is    said    person  who  took  the  pains  to  make  it. 
that  tliii  word  only  occurs  three  times ; 


OHAP.  vn.  LE  MAISTEE.  353 

praise  what  has  struck  me  in  the  substance  of  his  pleadings ; 
which,  whether  read  at  this  day  in  France  or  not,  are,  I  may 
venture  to  say,  worthy  to  be  studied  by  lawyers,  like  those  to 
which  I  have  compared  them,  the  strictly  forensic  portion  of 
Greek  oratory.  In  some  speeches  of  Patru  which  are  more 
generally  praised,  —  that  on  his  own  reception  in  the  Aca- 
demy, and  one  complimentary  to  Christina,  —  it  has  seemed  to 
me  that  he  falls  very  short  of  his  judicial  style :  the  orna- 
ments are  commonplace,  and  such  as  belong  to  the  panegyri- 
cal department  of  oratory;  in  all  ages  less  important  and 
valuable  than  the  other  two.  It  should  be  added,  that  Patru 
was  not  only  one  of  the  purest  writers,  but  one  of  the  best 
critics  whom  France  possessed.1 

28.  The  forensic  speeches  of  Le  Maistre  ace  more  elo- 
quent, in  a  popular  sense  of  the  word,  more  ardent,  And  of  La 
more  imaginative,  than  those  of  Patru.  The  one  Malstre- 
addresses  the  judges  alone :  the  other  has  a  view  to  the  audi- 
ence. The  one  seeks  the  success  of  his  cause  alone ;  the 
other,  that  and  his  own  glory  together.  The  one  will  be 
more  prized  by  the  lovers  of  legal  reasoning ;  the  other,  by  the 
majority  of  mankind.  The  one  more  reminds  us  of  the  ora- 
tions of  Demosthenes  for  his  private  clients,  the  other  of  those 
of  Cicero.  Le  Maistre  is  fervid  and  brilliant,  —  he  hurries 
us  with  him  ;  in  all  his  pleadings,  warmth  is  his  first  charac- 
teristic, and  a  certain  elegance  is  the  second.  In  the  power 
of  statement,  I  do  not  perceive  that  he  is  inferior  to  Patru : 
both  are  excellent.  Wherever  great  moral  or  social  topics, 
or  extensive  views  of  history  and  human  nature,  can  be 
employed,  Le  Maistre  has  the  advantage.  Both  are  concise, 
relatively  to  the  common  verbosity  of  the  bar ;  but  Le  Maistre 
has  much  more  that  might  be  retrenched, —  not  that  it  is  re- 
dundant in  expression,  but  unnecessary  in  substance.  This  is 
owing  to  his  ambitious  display  of  general  erudition :  his  quo- 
tations are  too  frequent  and  too  ornamental,  partly  drawn  from 
the  ancients,  but  more  from  the  fathers.  Ambrose,  in  fact, 
Jerome  and  Augustin,  Chrysostom,  Basil  and  Gregory,  were 
the  models  whom  the  writers  of  this  age  were  accustomed  to 
study ;  and  hence  they  are  often,  and  Le  Maistre  among  the 
rest,  too  apt  to  declaim  where  they  should  prove,  and  to  use 

1  Perranlt  says  of  Patru.  in  his  Homines  langue."    Yet  they  were  not  much  abore 

Illiij'tres  de  France,  rol.  ii.  p.  66:   "Sea  thirty  years  old,  —  so  much  had  the  lan- 

plaidoyers  servent  encore  avjourd'hui  de  guage  changed,   as   to    rules  of  writing, 

module  pour  ecrire  correcteuisnt  ea  notre  within  that  time. 

YOI..  ill.          28 


354  ENGLISH  STYLE.  PART  HL 

arguments  from  analogy,  rather  striking  to  the  common  hear- 
er, than  likely  to  weigh  much  with  a  tribunal.  He  has  less 
simplicity,  less  purity  of  taste,  than  Patru ;  his  animated  lan- 
guage would,  in  our  courts,  be  frequently  effective  with  a 
jury,  but  would  seem  too  indefinite  and  commonplace  to  the 
judges :  we  should  crowd  to  hear  Le  Maistre,  we  should  be 
compelled  to  decide  with  Patru.  They  are  both,  however, 
very  superior  advocates,  and  do  great  honor  to  the  French  bar. 
29.  A  sensible  improvement  in  the  general  style  of  English 

writers  had  come  on  before  the  expiration  of  the 
rnent°ine~  sixteenth  century;  the  rude  and  rough  phrases, 
^n^8h  sometimes  almost  requiring  a  glossary,  which  He  as 

spots  of  rust  on  the  pages  of  Latimer,  Grafton,  Ayl- 
mer,  or  even  Ascham,  had  been  chiefly  polished  away :  if  we 
meet  in  Sidney,  Hooker,  or  the  prose  of  Spenser,  with  obso- 
lete expressions  or  forms,  we  find  none  that  are  in  the  least 
unintelligible,  none  that  give  us  offence.  But  -to  this  next 
period  belong  most  of  those  whom  we  commonly  reckon  our 
old  English  writers;  men  often  of  such  sterling  worth  for 
their  sense,  that  we  might  read  them  with  little  regard  to  their 
language,  yet,  in  some  instances  at  least,  possessing  much  that 
demands  praise  in  this  respect.  They  are  generally  nervous 
and  effective,  copious  to  redundancy  hi  their  command  of 
words,  apt  to  employ  what  seemed  to  them  ornament  with 
much  imagination  rather  than  judicious  taste,  yet  seldom 
degenerating  into  commonplace  and  indefinite  phraseology. 
They  have,  however,  many  defects  ;  some  of  them,  especially 
the  most  learned,  are  full  of  pedantry,  and  deform  their  pages 
by  an  excessive  and  preposterous  mixture  of  Latinisms  un- 
known before ; 1  at  other  times,  we  are  disgusted  by  colloquial 
and  even  vulgar  idioms  or  proverbs  ;  nor  is  it  uncommon  to 
find  these  opposite  blemishes  not  only  in  the  same  author,  but 
in  the  same  passages.  Their  periods,  except  hi  a  very  few,  are 
ill-constructed  and  tediously  prolonged  ;  their  ears  (again  with 
some  exceptions)  seem  to  have  been  insensible  to  the  beauty 
of  rhythmical  prose  ;  grace  is  commonly  wanting ;  and  their 
notion  of  the  artifices  of  style,  when  they  thought  at  all  about 
them,  was  not  congenial  to  our  own  language.  This  may  be 
deemed  a  general  description  of  the  English  writers  under 
James  and  Charles :  we  shall  now  proceed  to  mention  some 

1  In  Pratt's  edition  of  Bishop  Hall's  to  more  than  eleven  hundred,  the  greater 
•works,  we  have  a  glossary  of  unusual  part  being  of  Latin  or  Greek  origin :  -am* 
words  employed  by  bam.  They  amount  are  Gallicisms. 


CHAP.  TIL    KNOLLES'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  TURKS.  355 

of  the  most  famous,  and  who  may,  in  a  certain  degree,  be 
deemed  to  modify  this  censure. 

30.  I  will  begin  with  a  passage  of  very  considerable  beauty, 
which  is  here  out  of  its  place,  since  it  was  written  in  Earl  of 
the  year  1598.     It  is  found  in  the  Apology  for  the   Essex- 
Earl  of  Essex,  published  among  the  works  of  Lord  Bacon, 
and  passing,  I  suppose,  commonly  for  his.     It  seems  neverthe- 
less, in  my  judgment,  far  more  probably  genuine.     We  have 
nowhere  in  our  early  writers  a  flow  of  words  so  easy  and 
graceful,  a  structure  so  harmonious,  a  series  of  antitheses  so 
spirited  without  affectation,  an  absence  of  quaintness,  pedant- 
ry, and   vulgarity  so   truly  gentlemanlike,   a   paragraph   so 
worthy  of  the  most  brilliant  man  of  his  age.     This  could  not 
have  come  from  Bacon,  who  never  divested  himself  of  a 
certain  didactic  formality,  even  if  he  could  have  counterfeited 
that  chivalrous  generosity  which  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to 
feel.      It  is   the   language  of  a  soldier's  heart,  with   the 
unstudied  grace  of  a  noble  courtier.1 

31.  Knolles,  already  known  by  a  spirited  translation  of 
Bodin's  Commonwealth,  published  in  1610  a  copious  KnoUes5B 
History  of  the  Turks,  bringing  down  his  narrative   History  of 
to  the  most  recent  times.     Johnson,  in  a  paper  of 

the  Rambler,  has  given  him  the  superiority  over  all  English 

i  "  A  -word  for  my  friendship  with  the  love  ease,  pleasure,  and  profit;  but  they 

chief  men  of  action,  and  favor  generally  that  love  pains,  danger,  and  fame,  show 

to  the  men  of  war ;   and  then  I  come  to  that  they  love  public  profit  more  than 

their  main  objection,  which  is  my  cross-  themselves.    I  love  them  for  my  country's 

Ing  of  the  treaty  in  hand.    For  most  of  sake ;   for  they  are  England's  best  armor 

them  that  are  accounted  the  chief  men  of  defence,  and  weapons  of  offence.    If  we 

of  action,  I  do  confess,  I  do  entirely  love  may  have  peace,  they  have  purchased  it ; 

them.    They  have  been  my  companions  if  we  must  have  war,  they  must  manage 

both  abroad  and  at  home ;  some  of  them  it.    Yet,  while  we  are  doubtful  and  in 

began  the  wars  with  me.  most  have  had  treaty,  we  must  value  ourselves  by  what 

place  under  me,  and  many  have  had  me  a  may  be  done,  and  the  enemy  will  value 

witness  of  their  rising  from  captains,  lieu-  us  by  what  hath  been  done  by  our  chief 

tenants,  and  private  men  to  those  charges  men  of  action. 

which  since  by  their  virtue  they  have  ob-  "  That  generally  I  am  affected  to  the 
tained.  Now  that  I  have  tried  them,  I  men  of  war,  it  should  not  seem  strange  to 
would  choose  them  for  friends,  if  I  had  any  reasonable  man.  Every  man  doth 
them  not :  before  I  had  tried  them,  God  love  them  of  his  own  profession.  The 
by  his  providence  chose  them  for  me.  I  grave  judges  favor  the  students  of  the 
love  them  for  mine  own  sake  ;  for  I  find  law ;  the  reverend  bishops,  the  laborers 
sweetness  in  their  conversation,  strong  in  the  ministry  ;  and  I  (since  her  Majesty 
a.«-i-tance  in  their  employments  with  me,  hath  yearly  used  my  service  in  her  late 
and  happiness  hi  their  friendship.  I  love  actions)  must  reckon  myself  in  the  num- 
them  for  their  virtues'  sake,  and  for  their  ber  of  her  men  of  war.  Before  action, 
greatness  of  mind  (for  little  minds,  though  Providence  makes  me  cherish  them  for 
never  so  full  of  virtue,  can  be  but  a  little  what  they  can  do ;  in  action,  necessity 
virtuous),  and  for  their  great  understand-  makes  me  value  them  for  the  service  they 
fag:  for  to  understand  little  things,  or  do;  and  after  action,  experience  and  thank- 
things  not  of  use,  is  little  better  than  to  fulness  make  me  love  them  for  the  serrio* 
understand  nothing  at  all.  I  love  them  they  have  done  " 
for  their  affections:  for  self-loving  men 


356  KNOLLES'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  TURKS.       PART  HI, 

historians.  "He  has  displayed  all  the  excellences  that  nar- 
ration can  admit.  His  style,  though  somewhat  obscured  by 
time,  and  vitiated  by  false  wit,  is  pure,  nervous,  elevated,  and 
clear.  .  .  .  Nothing  could  have  sunk  this  author  into  obscu- 
rity but  the  remoteness  and  barbarity  of  the  people  whose 
stoiy  he  relates.  It  seldom  happens  that  all  circumstances 
concur  to  happiness  or  fame.  The  nation  which  produced 
this  great  historian  has  the  grief  of  seeing  his  genius  employed 
upon  a  foreign  and  uninteresting  subject;  and  that  writer  who 
might  have  secured  perpetuity  to  his  name  by  a  history  of  his 
own  country,  has  exposed  himself  to  the  danger  of  oblivion, 
by  recounting  enterprises  and  revolutions  of  which  none 
desire  to  be  informed."1  The  subject,  however,  appeared  to 
Knolles,  and  I  know  not  how  we  can  say  erroneously,  one  of 
the  most  splendid  that  he  could  have  selected.  It  was  the 
rise  and  growth  of  a  mighty  nation,  second  only  to  Rome  in 
the  constancy  of  success,  and  in  the  magnitude  of  empire ;  a 
nation  fierce  and  terrible  in  that  age,  the  present  scourge  of 
half  Christendom,  and,  though  from  our  remoteness  not  very 
formidable  to  ourselves,  still  one  of  which  not  the  bookish 
man  in  his  closet  or  the  statesman  in  council  had  alone  heard, 
but  the  smith  at  his  anvil,  and  the  husbandman  at  his  plough. 
A  long  decrepitude  of  the  Turkish  Empire  on  one  hand,  and 
our  frequent  alliance  with  it  on  the  other,  have  since  oblite- 
rated the  apprehensions  and  interests  of  every  kind  which 
were  awakened  throughout  Europe  by  its  youthful  fury  and 
its  mature  strength.  The  subject  was  also  new  in  England,  yet 
rich  in  materials ;  various,  in  comparison  with  ordinary  his- 
tory, though  not  perhaps  so  fertile  of  philosophical  observation 
as  some  others,  and  furnishing  many  occasions  for  the  peculiar 
talents  of  Knolles.  These  were  displayed,  not  in  depth  of 
thought,  or  copiousness  of  collateral  erudition,  but  in  a  style 
and  in  a  power  of  narration  which  Johnson  has  not  too  highly 
extolled.  His  descriptions  are  vivid  and  animated ;  circum- 
stantial, but  not  to  feebleness :  his  characters  are  drawn  with 
a  strong  pencil.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  estimate  the  merits 
of  an  historian  very  accurately  without  having  before  our 
eyes  his  original  sources :  he  may  probably  have  translated 
much  that  we  admire,  and  hfe  had  shown  that  he  knew  how  to 
translate.  In  the  style  of  Knolles,  there  is  sometimes,  as 
Johnson  has  hinted,  a  slight  excess  of  desire  to  make  every 

i  Rambler,  No.  122. 


CHAP.  VH.  RALEIGH.  357 

phrase  effective :  but  he  is  exempt  from  the  usual  blemishes 
of  his  age ;  and  his  command  of  the  language  is  so  extensive, 
that  we  should  not  err  in  placing  him  among  the  first  of  our 
elder  writers.  Comparing,  as  a  specimen  of  Knolles's  man- 
ner, his  description  of  the  execution  of  Mustapha,  son  of 
Solyman,  with  that  given  by  Robertson,  where  the  latter  his- 
torian has  been  as  circumstantial  as  his  limits  would  permit, 
we  shall  perceive  that  the  former  paints  better  his  story,  and 
deepens  better  its  interest.1 

32.  Raleigh's   History   of  the   "World  is   a  proof  of  the 
respect  for  laborious  learning  that  had  long  distin-  j^^gi,),, 
eruished  Europe.    We  should  expect  from  the  prison-  History  of 

f  IT-  .-  T_  •    *   •  •       the  World. 

hours  of  a  soldier,  a  courtier,  a  busy  intriguer  in 
state  affairs,  a  poet  and  man  of  genius,  something  well  worth 
our  notice ;  but  hardly  a  prolix  history  of  the  ancient  world, 
hardly  disquisitions  on  the  site  of  Paradise  and  the  travels  of 
Cain.  These  are  probably  translated,  with  little  alteration, 
from  some  of  the  learned  writings  of  the  Continent :  they  are 
by  much  the  least  valuable  portion  of  Raleigh's  work.  The 
Greek  and  Roman  story  is  told  more  fully  and  exactly  than 
by  any  earlier  English  author,  and  with  a  plain  eloquence 
which  has  given  this  book  a  classical  reputation  in  our  lan- 
guage, though  from  its  length,  and  the  want  of  that  critical 
sifting  of  facts  which  we  now  justly  demand,  it  is  not  greatly 
read.  Raleigh  has  intermingled  political  reflections,  and 
illustrated  his  history  by  episodes  from  modern  times,  which 
perhaps  are  now  the  most  interesting  passages.  It  descends 
only  to  the  second  Macedonian  War :  the  continuation  might 
have  been  more  generally  valuable ;  but  either  the  death 
of  Prince  Henry,  as  Raleigh  himself  tells  us,  or  the  new 
schemes  of  ambition  which  unfortunately  opened  upon  his 
eyes,  prevented  the  execution  of  the  large  plan  he  had  formed. 
There  is  little  now  obsolete  in  the  words  of  Raleigh,  nor, 
to  any  great  degree,  in  his  turn  of  phrase ;  the  periods, 
when  pains  have  been  taken  with  them,  show  that  artificial 
structure  which  we  find  in  Sidney  and  Hooker;  he  is  less 
pedantic  than  most  of  his  contemporaries,  seldom  low,  never 
affected. 

1  Knolles,  p.  515.    Robertson's  Charles  observed,  that  I  might  have  mentionpd 

the  Fifth,  book  xi.    [The  principal  autho-  Bnsbequius  in  a  former  volume  among 

rity  for   this  description  appears  to    be  the  good  Latin  writers  of  the  sixteenth 

Busbequius,   in  his  excellent  Legationis  century.  — 1842.] 
Turokaj  Epistola.      It  has  been  justly 


858  DANIEL  — BACON.  PABT  IIL 

33,  Daniel's  History  of  England  from  the  Conquest  to  the 
Daniel's       Reign  of  Edward  III.,  published  in  1618,  is  deserv- 
History  of    ing  of  some  attention  on  account  of  its  language. 
England,     j^  jg  wrj^en  with  a  freedom  from  all  stiffness,  and  a 
purity  of  style,  which   hardly  any  other   work   of  so   early 
a  date  exhibits.     These,  qualities  are  indeed  so  remarkable, 
that  it  would  require  a  good  deal  of  critical  observation  to 
distinguish  it  even  from  writings  of  the  reign  of  Anne ;  and, 
where  it  differs  from  them  (I  speak  only  of  the  secondary 
class  of  works,  which  have  not  much  individuality  of  man- 
ner), it  is  by  a  more  select  idiom,  and  by  an  absence  of  the 
Gallicism  or  vulgarity  which  are  often  found  in  that  age.     It 
is  true  that  the  merits  of  Daniel  are  chiefly  negative ;   lie  is 
never  pedantic  or  antithetical  or  low,  as  his  contemporaries 
were  apt  to  be :  but  his  periods  are  ill-constructed ;   he  has 
little  vigor  or  elegance ;  and  it  is  only  by  observing  how  much 
pains  he  must  have  taken  to  reject  phrases  which  were  grow- 
ing obsolete,  that  we  give  him  credit  for  having  done  more 
than  follow  the  common  stream  of  easy  writing.     A  slight 
tinge  of  archaism,  and  a  certain  majesty  of  expression,  rela- 
tively to  colloquial  usage,  were  thought  by  Bacon  and  Raleigh 
congenial  to  an  elevated  style:  but  Daniel,  a  gentleman  of 
the   king's   household,  wrote  as   the   court  spoke ;   and   his 
facility  would  be  pleasing  if  his  sentences  had  a  less  negligent 
structure.     As  an  historian,  he  has  recourse  only  to  common 
authorities;    but    his   narration   is   fluent    and    perspicuous, 
with  a  regular  vein  of  good  sense,  more  the  characteristic 
of  his  mind,  both  in  verse  and  prose,  than  any  commanding 
vigor. 

34.  The   style   of  Bacon  has  an  idiosyncrasy  which  we 
^<^          might  expect  from  his  genius.     It  can  rarely  indeed 

happen,  and  only  in  men  of  secondary  talents,  that 
the  language  they  use  is  not  by  its  very  choice  and  collocation, 
as  well  as  its  meaning,  the  representative  of  an  individuality 
that  distinguishes  their  turn  of  thought.  Bacon  is  elaborate, 
sententious,  often  witty,  often  metaphorical ;  nothing  could  be 
spared ;  his  analogies  are  generally  striking  and  novel ;  his 
style  is  clear,  precise,  forcible ;  yet  there  is  some  degree 
of  stiffness  about  it,  and,  in  mere  language,  he  is  inferior  to 
Raleigh.  The  History  of  Henry  VII.,  admirable  as  many 
passages  are,  seems  to  be  written  rather  too  ambitiously,  and 
with  too  great  an  absence  of  simplicity. 


CHAP.  Vil.  CLARENDON  — ICON  BASILICE.  359 

35.  The  polemical  writings  of  Milton,  which  chiefly  fall 
within   this   period,   contain   several   bursts    of    his 
splendid  imagination  and  grandeur  of  soul.     They 

are,  however,  much  inferior  to  the  Areopagitica,  or  Plea  for 
the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing.  Many  passages  in  this 
famous  tract  are  admirably  eloquent ;  an  intense  love  of  lib- 
erty and  truth  glows  through  it ;  the  majestic  soul  of  Milton 
breathes  such  high  thoughts  as  had  not  been  uttered  before : 
yet  even  here  he  frequently  sinks  in  a  single  instant,  as  is 
usual  with  our  old  writers,  from  his  highest  nights  to  the 
ground ;  his  intermixture  of  familiar  with  learned  phraseology 
is  unpleasing,  his  structure  is  affectedly  elaborate,  and  he 
seldom  reaches  any  harmony.  If  he  turns  to  invective,  as 
sometimes  in  this  treatise,  and  more  in  his  Apology  for  Smec- 
tymnuus,  it  is  mere  ribaldrous  vulgarity  blended  with  pedan- 
try :  his  wit  is  always  poor  and  without  ease.  An  absence  of 
idiomatic  grace,  and  an  use  of  harsh  inversions  violating 
the  rules  of  the  language,  distinguish  in  general  the  writings 
of  Milton,  and  require,  in  order  to  compensate  them,  such 
high  beauties  as  will  sometimes  occur. 

36.  The  History  of  Clarendon  may  be  considered  as  belong- 
ing rather  to  this  than  to  the  second  period  of  the   _^ 
century,  both  by  the  probable  date  of  composition 

and  by  the  nature  of  its  style.  He  is  excellent  in  every  thing 
that  he  has  performed  with  care ;  his  characters  are  beauti- 
fully delineated ;  his  sentiments  have  often  a  noble  gravity, 
which  the  length  of  his  periods,  far  too  great  in  itself,  seems 
to  befit ;  but,  in  the  general  course  of  his  narration,  he  is 
negligent  of  grammar  and  perspicuity,  with  little  choice  of 
words,  and  therefore  sometimes  idiomatic  without  ease  or 
elegance.  The  official  papers  on  the  royal  side,  which  axe 
generally  attributed  to  him,  are  written  in  a  masculine  and 
majestic  tone,  far  superior  to  those  of  the  parliament.  The 
latter  had,  however,  a  writer  who  did  them  honor:  May's 
History  of  the  Parliament  is  a  good  model  of  genuine  Eng- 
lish ;  he  is  plain,  terse,  and  vigorous,  never  slovenly,  though 
with  few  remarkable  passages,  and  is,  in  style  as  well  as 
substance,  a  kind  of  contrast  to  Clarendon. 

37.  The  famous  Icon  Basilice,  ascribed  to  Charles  I.,  may 
deserve  a  place  in  literary  history.     If  we  could  The  icon 
trust  its  panegyrists,  few  books   in   our   language   E 

have  done  it  more  credit  by  dignity  of  sentiment,  and  beauty 


360  BURTON'S  ANATOMY.  PAEI  III 

of  style.  It  can  hardly  be  necessary  for  me  to  express  my 
unhesitating  conviction,  that  it  was  solely  written  by  Bishop 
Gauden,  who,  after  the  Restoration,  unequivocally  claimed  it 
as  his  own.  The  folly  and  impudence  of  such  a  claim,  if  it 
could  not  be  substantiated,  are  not  to  be  presumed  as  to  any 
man  of  good  understanding,  fair  character,  and  high  station, 
without  stronger  evidence  than  has  been  alleged  on  the  other 
side  ;  especially  when  we  find  that  those  who  had  the  best 
means  of  inquiry,  at  a  time  when  it  seems  impossible  that 
he  falsehood  of  Gauden's  assertion  should  not  have  been 
lemonstrated,  if  it  were  false,  acquiesced  in  his  pretensions. 
We  have  very  little  to  place  against  this,  except  secondary 
testimony  ;  vague,  for  the  most  part,  in  itself,  and  collected  by 
those  whose  veracity  has  not  been  put  to  the  test  like  that  of 
Gauden.1  The  style  also  of  the  Icon  Basilice  has  been  iden- 
tified by  Mr.  Todd  with  that  of  Gauden  by  the  use  of  several 
phrases  so  peculiar,  that  we  can  hardly  conceive  them  to  have 
suggested  themselves  to  more  than  one  person.  It  is,  never- 
theless, superior  to  his  acknowledged  writings.  A  strain  of 
majestic  melancholy  is  well  kept  up  ;  but  the  personated 
sovereign  is  rather  too  theatrical  for  real  nature,  the  language 
is  too  rhetorical  and  amplified,  the  periods  too  artificially  ela- 
borated. None  but  scholars  and  practised  writers  employ 
such  a  style  as  this. 

38.  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  belongs,  by  its  sys- 

tematic divisions  and  its  accumulated  quotations,  to 

Anatomy     the  class  of  mere  erudition  :   it  seems  at  first  sight 

of  Meian-    \{^Q  tnoge  tedious  Latin  folios  into  which  scholars  of 


ciioly. 

the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  threw  the 
materials  of  their  Adversaria,  or  commonplace-books,  painfully 
selected  and  arranged  by  the  labor  of  many  years.  But 
writing  fortunately  in  English,  and  in  a  style  not  by  any 
means  devoid  of  point  and  terseness,  with  much  good  sense 
and  observation  of  men  as  well  as  of  books,  and  having  also 

1  There  is  only  one  claimant,  in  a  pro-  authorship  of  a  book  not  written  by  him- 

per  sense,  for  the  Icon  Basilioe,  which  is  self,  but  universally  ascribed  to  another, 

Gauden  himself:  the  king  neither  appears  and  which  had  never  been  in  his  posses- 

by    himself    nor    representative.      And,  sion.    A  story  is  told,  and  I  believe  truly, 

though  we  may  find  several  instances  of  that  a  young  man  assumed  the  credit  of 

plagiarism  in  literary  history  (one  of  the  Mackenzie's  Man  of  Feeliug  while  it  wa» 

grossest  being  the  publication  by  a  Spanish  still  anonymous.    But  this  is  widely  dif 

friar,  under  another  title,  of  a  book  al-  ferent  from  the  case  of  the  Toon  Il.-tsilire. 

ready  in  print  with  the  name  of  Hyperius  We  have  had  an  interminable  discussion 

of  Marpurg,  its  real  author),  yet  I  cannot  as  to  the  Letters  of  Junius  ;  but  no  one 

call  to  mind  any,  where  a  man  known  to  has  ever  claimed  this  derelict  property  to 

the  world  has  asserted  in  terms  his  own  himself,  or  told  the  world,  "  I  am  J  unius." 


CSAP.  VII.       EARLE'S  CHARACTERS  — OYERBURY.  361 

the  skill  of  choosing  his  quotations  for  their  rareness,  oddity, 
and  amusing  character,  without  losing  sight  of  their  perti- 
nence to  the  subject,  he  has  produced  a  work  of  which,  as  is 
well  known,  Johnson  said  that  it  was  the  only  one  which  had 
over  caused  him  to  leave  his  bed  earlier  than  he  had  intended. 
Johnson,  who  seems  to  have  had  some  turn  for  the  singulari- 
ties of  learning  which  fill  the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  may 
perhaps  have  raised  the  credit  of  Burton  higher  than  his 
desert.  He  is  clogged  by  excess  of  reading,  like  others  of 
his  age ;  and  we  may  peruse  entire  chapters  without  finding 
more  than  a  few  lines  that  belong  to  himself.  This  becomes 
a  wearisome  style ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  not  found 
much  pleasure  in  glancing  over  the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 
It  may  be  added,  that  he  has  been  a  collector  of  stories,  far 
more  strange  than  true,  from  those  records  of  figments,  the 
old  medical  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  other 
equally  deceitful  sources.  Burton  lived  at  Oxford,  and  his 
volumes  are  apparently  a  great  sweeping  of  miscellaneous 
literature  from  the  Bodleian  Library. 

39.  John  Earle,  after  the  Restoration,  Bishop  of  Worces 
ter,  and  then  of  Salisbury,  is  author  of  Microcos-  Earie's 
mographia,  or  a  Piece  of  the  Worlde  discovered  in  Ck**3*1*18- 
Essays  and  Characters,  published  anonymously  in  1628.     In 
some  of  these  short  characters,  Earle  is  worthy  of  comparison 
with  La  Bruyere ;  in  others,  perhaps  the  greater  part,  he  has 
contented  himself  with  pictures  of  ordinary  manners,  such  as 
the  varieties  of  occupation,  rather  than  of  intrinsic  character, 
supply.     In  all,  however,  we  find  an  acute  observation  and 
a  happy  humor  of   expression.     The   chapter  entitled  the 
Sceptic  is  best  known :  it  is  witty,  but  an  insult  throughout 
on  the  honest  searcher  after  truth,  which  could  have  come  only 
from  one  that  was  content  to  take  up  his  own  opinions  for  ease 
or  profit,     Earle  is  always  gay,  and  quick  to  catch  the  ridicu- 
lous, especially   that  of  exterior   appearances :    his  style  is 
short,  describing  well  with  a  few  words,  but  with  much  of  the 
affected  quaintness  of  that  age.     It  is  one  of  those  books 
which  give  us  a  picturesque  idea  of  the   manners   of  oui 
fathers  at  a  period  now  become  remote ;  and  for  this  reason, 
were  there  no  other,  it  would  deserve  to  be  read. 

40.  But  the  Microcosmography  is  not  an  original  work  in 
its  plan  or  mode  of  execution :    it  is  a  close  imitation  of  the 
Characters  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury.     They  both  belong  to 


862  OVERBUKY— JONSON.  PAET  HI. 

the  favorite  style  of  apothegm,  in  which  every  sentence  is  a 
Overbury's  point  or  a  witticism.  Yet  the  entire  character  so 
Characters,  delineated  produces  a  certain  effect :  it  is  a  Dutch 
picture,  a  Gerard  Dow,  somewhat  too  elaborate.  Earle  has 
more  natural  humor  than  Overbury,  and  hits  his  mark  more 
neatly ;  the  other  is  more  satirical,  but  often  abusive  and 
vulgar.  The  Fair  and  Happy  Milkmaid,  often  quoted,  is  the 
best  of  his  characters.  The  wit  is  often  trivial  and  flat; 
the  sentiments  have  nothing  in  them  general,  or  worthy  of 
much  remembrance ;  praise  is  only  due  to  the  graphic  skill  in 
delineating  character.  Earle  is  as  clearly  the  better,  as  Over- 
bury  is  the  more  original,  writer. 

41.  A  book  by  Ben  Jonson,  entitled  Timber,  or  Disco- 
jonson's  veries  made  upon  Men  and  Matter,1  is  altogether 
Discoyenes.  miscellaneous,  the  greater  part  being  general  moral 
remarks,  while  another  portion  deserves  notice  as  the  only 
book  of  English  criticism  in  the  first  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  observations  are  unconnected,  judicious,  some- 
times witty,  'frequently  severe.  The  style  is  what  was  called 
pregnant,  leaving  much  to  be  filled  up  by  the  reader's  reflec- 
tion. Good  sense,  and  a  vigorous  manner  of  grappling  with 
every  subject,  will  generally  be  found  in  Jonson ;  but  he  does 
not  reach  any  very  profound  criticism.  His  English  Gram- 
mar is  said  by  Gifford  to  have  been  destroyed  in  the  confla- 
gration of  his  study.  What  we  have,  therefore,  under  that 
name,  is,  he  thinks,  to  be»  considered  as  properly  the  materials 
of  a  more  complete  work  that  is  lost.  We  have,  as  I  appre- 
hend, no  earlier  grammar  upon  so  elaborate  a  plan :  every 
rule  is  illustrated  by  examples,  almost  to  redundance ;  but  he 
is  too  copious  on  what  is  common  to  other  languages,  and 
perhaps  not  full  enough  as  to  our  peculiar  idiom. 

i  ["  Umber,"  I  suppose,  is  meant  at  a  ludicrous  translation  of  Sylva.  — 1842.1 


CIUP.  VIL  CEKYAtfTES.  363 


SECT.  II. —  ON  FICTION. 

Cervantes  —  French  Romances  —  Calprenede  —  Scuderi — Latin  and  English  Works 
of  Fiction. 

42.  THE  first  part  of  Don  Quixote  was  published  in  1605. 
We  have  no  reason,  I  believe,  to  suppose  that  it  public*, 
was  written  long  before.      It  became  immediately  £°nQuix- 
popular ;  and  the  admiration  of  the  world  raised  up   ote. 
envious  competitors,  one  of  whom,  Avellenada,  published  a 
continuation  in  a  strain  of  invective  against  the  author.     Cer- 
vantes, who  cannot  be  imagined  to  have  ever  designed  the 
leaving  his  romance  in  so  unfinished  a  state,  took  time  about 
the  second  part,  which  did  not  appear  till  1615. 

43.  Don  Quixote  is  almost  the  only  book  in  the  Spanish 
language  which  can  now  be  said  to  possess  so  much   Ite  p^. 
of  an  European  reputation  as  to  be  popularly  read   tation. 

in  every  country.  It  has,  however,  enjoyed  enough  to  com 
pensate  for  the  neglect  of  the  rest.  It  is  to  Europe  in 
general  what  Ariosto  is  to  Italy,  and  Shakspeare  to  Eng- 
land ;  the  one  book  to  which  the  slightest  allusions  may  be 
made  without  affectation,  but  not  missed  'without  discredit. 
Numerous  translations  and  countless  editions  of  them,  in 
every  language,  bespeak  its  adaptation  to  mankind  :  no  critic 
has  been  paradoxical  enough  to  withhold  his  admiration,  no 
reader  has  ventured  to  confess  a  want  of  relish  for  that  in 
which  the  young  and  old,  in  every  climate,  have,  age  after  age, 
taken  delight.  They  have  doubtless  believed,  that  they  un- 
derstood the  author's  meaning ;  and,  in  giving  the  reins  to  the 
gayety  that  his  fertile  invention  and  comic  humor  inspired, 
never  thought  of  any  deeper  meaning  than  he  announces,  or 
delayed  their  enjoyment  for  any  metaphysical  investigation 
of  his  plan. 

44.  A  new  school  of  criticism,  however,  has  of  late  years 
arisen  in  Germany,  acute,  ingenious,  and  sometimes  NewTiewa 
eminently  successful  in  philosophical,  or,  as  they  de-  of  its  de- 
nominate it,  aesthetic  analysis  of  works  of  taste,  but  fflsn' 
gliding  too  much  into  refinement  and  conjectural  hypothesis, 
and  with  a  tendency  to  mislead  men  of  inferior  capacities  for 
this  kind  of  investigation  into  mere  paradox  and  absurdity. 
An  instance  is  supplied,  in  my  opinion,  by  some  remarks  of 


364  CERVANTES.  FART  III. 

Bouterwek,  still  more  explicitly  developed  by  Sismondi,  on 
the  design  of  Cervantes  in  Don  Quixote,  and  which  have 
been  repeated  in  other  publications.  According  to  these  wri- 
ters, the  primary  idea  is  that  of  a  "  man  of  elevated  charac- 
ter, excited  -by  heroic  and  enthusiastic  feelings  to  the  extrava- 
gant pitch  of  wishing  to  restore  the  age  of  chivalry ;  nor  is  it 
possible  to  form  a  more  mistaken  notion  of  this  work  than  by 
considering  it  merely  as  a  satire,  intended  by  the  author  to 
ridicule  the  absurd  passion  for  reading  old  romances."1  "  The 
fundamental  idea  of  Don  Quixote,"  says  Sismondi,  "  is  the 
eternal  contrast  between  the  spirit  of  poetry  and  that  of 
prose.  Men  of  an  elevated  soul  propose  to  themselves  as  the 
object  of  life  to  be  the  defenders  of  the  weak,  the  support  of 
the  oppressed,  the  champions  of  justice  and  innocence.  Like 
Don  Quixote,  they  find  on  every  side  the  image  of  the  virtues 
they  worship :  they  believe  that  disinterestedness,  nobleness, 
courage,  in  short,  knight-errantry,  are  still  prevalent;  and, 
with  no  calculation  of  their  own  powers,  they  expose  them- 
selves for  an  ungrateful  world,  they  offer  themselves  as  a 
sacrifice  to  the  laws  and  rules  of  an  imaginary  state  of  soci- 
ety."2 

45.  If  this  were  a  true  representation  of  the  scheme  of  Don 
Quixote,  we  cannot  wonder  that  some  persons  should,  as  M. 
Sismondi  tells  us  they  do,  consider  it  as  the  most  melancholy 
book  that  has  ever  been  written.     They  consider  it  also,  no 
doubt,  one  of  the  most  immoral,  as  chilling  and  pernicious  in 
its  influence  on  the  social  converse  of  mankind,  as  the  Prince 
of  Machiavel  is  on  their  political  intercourse.     "  Cervantes," 
he  proceeds,  "  has  shown  us  in  some  measure  the  vanity  of 
greatness   of  soul   and  the   delusion   of  heroism.      He   has 
drawn  in  Don  Quixote  a  perfect  man  (un  homme  accompli), 
who  is,  nevertheless,  the  constant  object  of  ridicule.     Brave 
beyond  the  fabled  knights  he  imitates,  disinterested,  honora- 
ble, generous,  the  most  faithful  and  respectful  of  lovers,  the 
best  of  masters,  the  most  accomplished  and  well  educated  of 
gentlemen,  all  his  enterprises  end  in  discomfiture  to  himself, 
and  in  mischief  to  others."     M.  Sismondi  descants  upon  the 
perfections  of  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha  with  a  gravity  which 
it  is  not  quite  easy  for  his  readers  to  preserve. 

46.  It  might  be  answered  by  a  phlegmatic  observer,  that  a 
mere  enthusiasm  for  doing  good,  if  excited  by  vanity,  and 

1  Bouterwek,  p.  334.  »  Litterature  du  Midi,  vol.  iii.  p.  339. 


CHAP.  TH.  DON  QUIXOTE.  365 

not  accompanied  by  common  sense,  will  seldom  be  very 
serviceable  to  ourselves  or  to  others ;  that  men  who,  p^babiy 
in  their  heroism  and  care  for  the  oppressed,  would  erroneous, 
throw  open  the  cages  of  lions,  and  set  galley-slaves  at  liberty, 
not  forgetting  to  break  the  limbs  of  harmless  persons  whom 
they  mistake  for  wrong-doers,  are  a  class  of  whom  Don  Quix- 
ote is  the  real  type ;  and  that,  the  world  being  much  the 
worse  for  such  heroes,  it  might  not  be  immoral,  notwithstand- 
ing their  benevolent  enthusiasm,  to  put  them  out  of  counte- 
nance by  a  little  ridicule.  This,  however,  is  not,  as  I  conceive, 
the  primary  aim  of  Cervantes ;  nor  do  I  think  that  the  exhi- 
bition of  one  great  truth,  as  the  predominant  but  concealed 
moral  of  a  long  work,  is  in  the  spirit  of  his  age.  He  pos- 
sessed a  very  thoughtful  mind  and  a  profound  knowledge  of 
humanity;  yet  the  generalization  which  the  hypothesis  of 
Bouterwek  and  Sismondi  requires  for  the  leading  conception 
of  Don  Quixote,  besides  its  being  a  little  inconsistent  with  the 
valorous  and  romantic  character  of  its  author,  belongs  to  a 
more  advanced  period  of  philosophy  than  his  own.  It  will  at 
all  events,  I  presume,  be  admitted,  that  we  cannot  reason 
about  Don  Quixote  except  from  the  book ;  and  I  think  it 
may  be  shown  in  a  few  words,  that  these  ingenious  writers 
have  been  chiefly  misled  by  some  want  of  consistency  which 
circumstances  produced  in  the  author's  delineation  of  his 
hero. 

47.  In  the  first  chapter  of  this  romance,  Cervantes,  with  a 
few  strokes  of  a  great  master,  sets  before  us  the  pau-  Difference 
per  gentleman,  an  early  riser  and  keen  sportsman,  ^g*two 
who,  "  when  he  was  idle,  which  was  most  part  of  the  ?*"*>• 
year,"  gave  himself  up  to  reading  books  of  chivalry  till  he 
lost  his  wits.  The  events  that  follow  are  in  every  one's  recol- 
lection :  his  lunacy  consists,  no  doubt,  only  in  one  idea ;  but 
this  is  so  absorbing  that  it  perverts  the  evidence  of  his  senses, 
and  predominates  in  all  his  language.  It  is  to  be  observed, 
therefore,  in  relation  to  the  nobleness  of  soul  ascribed  to  Don 
Quixote,  that  every  sentiment  he  utters  is  borrowed  with  a 
punctilious  rigor  from  the  romances  of  his  library ;  he  resorts 
to  them  on  every  occasion  for  precedents :  if  he  is  intrepidly 
brave,  it  is  because  his  madness  and  vanity  have  made  him 
believe  himself  unconquerable  ;  if  he  bestows  kingdoms,  it  is 
because  Amadis  would  have  done  the  same ;  if  he  is  honora- 
ble, courteous,  a  redresser  of  wrongs,  it  is  in  pursuance  of 


366  CERVANTES.  PART  ILL 

these  prototypes,  from  whom,  except  that  he  seems  rather 
more  scrupulous  in  chastity,  it  is  his  only  boast  not  to  diverge. 
Those  who  talk  of  the  exalted  character  of  Don  Quixote 
seem  really  to  forget,  that,  on  these  subjects,  he  has  no  charac- 
ter at  all :  he  is  the  echo  of  romance ;  and  to  praise  him  is 
merely  to  say,  that  the  tone  of  chivalry,  which  these  produc- 
tions studied  to  keep  up,  and,  in  the  hands  of  inferior  artists, 
foolishly  exaggerated,  was  full  of  moral  dignity,  and  has,  in  a 
subdued  degree  of  force,  modelled  the  character  of  a  man  of 
honor  in  the  present  day.  But  throughout  the  first  two  vol- 
umes of  Don  Quixote,  though  in  a  few  unimportant  passages 
he  talks  rationally,  I  cannot  find  more  than  two  in  which  he 
displays  any  other  knowledge,  or  strength  of  mind,  than  the 
original  delineation  of  the  character  would  lead  us  to  expect. 

48.  The  case  is  much  altered  in  the  last  two  volumes. 
Cervantes  had  acquired  an  immense  popularity,  and  perceived 
the  opportunity,  of  which  he  had  already  availed  himself,  that 
this  romance  gave  for  displaying  his  own  mind.  He  had  be- 
come attached  to  a  hero  who  had  made  him  illustrious,  and 
suffered  himself  to  lose  sight  of  the  clear  outline  he  had  once 
traced  for  Quixote's  personality.  Hence  we  find  in  all  this 
second  part,  that,  although  the  lunacy  as  to  knights-errant 
remains  unabated,  he  is,  on  all  other  subjects,  not  only  ration- 
al in  the  low  sense  of  the  word,  but  clear,  acute,  profound, 
sarcastic,  cool-headed.  His  philosophy  is  elevated,  but  not 
enthusiastic;  his  imagination  is  poetical,  but  it  is  restrained  by 
strong  sense.  There  are,  in  fact,  two  Don  Quixotes :  one, 
whom  Cervantes  first  designed  to  draw,  the  foolish  gentleman 
of  La  Mancha,  whose  foolishness  had  made  him  frantic ;  the 
other,  a  highly  gifted,  accomplished  model  of  the  best  chival- 
ry, trained  in  all  the  court,  the  camp,  or  the  college  could 
impart,  but  scathed  in  one  portion  of  his  mind  by  an  inexpli- 
cable visitation  of  monomania.  One  is  inclined  to  ask  why 
this  Don  Quixote,  who  is  Cervantes,  should  have  been  more 
likely  to  lose  his  intellects  by  reading  romances  than  Cervan- 
tes himself.  As  a  matter  of  bodily  disease,  such  an  event  is 
doubtless  possible ;  but  nothing  can  be  conceived  more  im- 
proper for  fiction,  nothing  more  incapable  of  affording  a  moral 
lesson,  than  the  insanity  which  arises  wholly  from  disease. 
Insanity  is,  in  no  point  of  view,  a  theme  for  ridicule ;  and 
this  is  an  inherent  fault  of  the  romance  (for  those  who  have 
imagined  that  Cervantes  has  not  rendered  Quixote  ridiculous 


CHAP.  VH.  DON  QUIXOTE.  36? 

hare  a  strange  notion  of  the  word) ;  but  the  thoughtlessness 
of  mankind,  rather  than  their  insensibility  (for  they  do  not 
connect  madness  with  misery),  furnishes  some  apology  for  the 
first  two  volumes.  In  proportion  as  we  perceive,  below  the 
veil  of  mental  delusion,  a  noble  intellect,  we  feel  a  painful 
sympathy  with  its  humiliation :  the  character  becomes  more 
complicated  and  interesting,  but  has  less  truth  and  natural- 
ness ;  an  objection  which  might  also  be  made,  comparatively 
speaking,  to  the  incidents  in  the  latter  volumes,  wherein  I  do 
not  find  the  admirable  probability  that  reigns  through  the 
former.  But  this  contrast  of  wisdom  and  virtue  with  insanity 
in  the  same  subject  would  have  been  repulsive  in  the  primary 
delineation ;  as  I  think  any  one  may  judge,  by  supposing  that 
Cervantes  had,  in  the  first  chapter,  drawn  such  a  picture  of 
Quixote  as  Bouterwek  and  Sismondi  have  drawn  for  him. 

49.  I  must  therefore  venture  to  think,  as,  I  believe,  the 
world  has  generally  thought  for  two  centuries,  that  Cervantes 
had  no  more  profound  aim  than  he  proposes  to  the  reader. 
If  the  fashion  of  reading  bad  romances  of  chivalry  perverted 
the  taste  of  his  contemporaries,  and  rendered  their  language 
ridiculous,  it  was  natural  that  a  zealous  lover  of  good  litera- 
ture should  expose  this  folly  to  the  world  by  exaggerating  its 
effects  on  a  fictitious  personage.  It  has  been  said  by  some 
modern  writer,  though  I  cannot  remember  by  whom,  that 
there  was  a  prose  side  in  the  mind  of  Cervantes.  There 
was  indeed  a  side  of  calm  strong  sense,  which  some  take  for 
unpoetical.  He  thought  the  tone  of  those  romances  extrava- 
gant. It  might  naturally  occur  how  absurd  any  one  must 
appear  who  should  attempt  to  realize  in  actual  life  the  ad- 
ventures of  Amadis.  Already  a  novelist,  he  perceived  the 
opportunities  this  idea  suggested.  It  was  a  necessary  conse- 
quence that  the  hero  must  be  represented  as  literally  insane, 
since  his  conduct  would  have  been  extravagant  beyond  the 
probability  of  fiction  on  any  other  hypothesis  ;  and  from 
this  happy  conception  germinated,  in  a  very  prolific  mind, 
the  whole  history  of  Don  Quixote.  Its  simplicity  is  perfect : 
no  limit  could  be  found  save  the  author's  discretion  or  sense 
that  he  had  drawn  sufficiently  on  his  imagination ;  but  the 
death  of  Quixote,  which  Cervantes  has  been  said  to  have 
determined  upon,  lest  some  one  else  should  a  second  time 
presume  to  continue  the  story,  is  in  fact  the  only  .possible 
termination  that  could  be  given,  after  he  had  elevated  the 


368  CERVANTES.  PART  HI. 

character  to  that  pitch  of  mental  dignity  which  we  find  in 
the  last  two  volumes. 

50.  Few  books  of  moral  philosophy  display  as  deep  an 

insight  into  the    mechanism  of  the    mind  as  Don 

Excellence        _     .°  ,  .      .        .  ..... 

of  this  Quixote.  And  when  we  look  also  at  the  fertility 
romance.  of  mvention,  the  general  probability  of  the  events, 
and  the  great  simplicity  of  the  story,  wherein  no  artifices  are 
practised  to  create  suspense,  or  complicate  the  action,  we  shall 
think  Cervantes  fully  deserving  of  the  glory  that  attends  this 
monument  of  his  genius.  It  is  not  merely  that  he  is  supe- 
rior to  all  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  This,  though 
it  might  account  for  the  European  fame  of  his  romance,  would 
be  an  inadequate  testimony  to  its  desert.  Cervantes  stands 
on  an  eminence,  below  which  we  must  place  the  best  of 
his  successors.  We  have  only  to  compare  him  with  Le 
Sage  or  Fielding,  to  judge  of  his  vast  superiority.  To 
Scott,  indeed,  he  must  yield  in  the  variety  of  his  power; 
but,  in  the  line  of  comic  romance,  we  should  hardly  think 
Scott  his  equal. 

51.  The  moral  novels  of  Cervantes,   as   he   calls   them 
Minor  no-     (Novellas  Exemplares),  are  written,  I  believe,  in  a 
veis  of        good  style,  but  too  short,  and  constructed  with  too 

little  artifice  to  rivet  our  interest.  Their  simplicity 
and  truth,  as  in  many  of  the  old  novels,  have  a  certain 
other  charm ;  but,  in  the  present  age,  our  sense  of  satiety 
novels:  in  works  of  fiction  cannot  be  overcome  but  by  excel- 
Spamsh.  jence>  Qf  j^g  Spanisn  comic  romances,  in  the  pica- 
resque style,  several  remain :  Justina  was  the  most  famous. 
One  that  does  not  strictly  belong  to  this  lower  class  is  the 
Marcos  de  Obregon  of  Espinel.  This  is  supposed  to  have 
suggested  much  to  Le  Sage  in  Gil  Bias ;  in  fact,  the  first 
story  we  meet  with  is  that  of  Mergellina,  the  physician's 
wife.  The  style,  though  not  dull,  wants  the  grace  and  neat- 
ness of  Le  Sage.  This  is  esteemed  one  of  the  best  novels 
that  Spain  has  produced.  Italy  was  no  longer  the  seat  of 
this  literature.  A  romance  of  chivalry  by  Marini  (not  the 

poet  of  that  name),  entitled  II   Caloandro   (1640); 

was  translated  but  indifferently  into  French  by 
Scuderi,  and  has  been  praised  by  Salfi  as  full  of  imagination, 
with  characters  skilfully  diversified,  and  an  interesting,  well- 
conducted  story.1 

i  Salfi,  vol.  jdY.  p.  88. 


CHAP.  V1L      FRENCH  ROMANCES  —  GOMBERVILLE.  369 

52.  France,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  content  with  Amadis 
de  Gaul  and  the  numerous  romances  of  the  Spanish  , 

...  IT  French  ro- 

school,  had  contributed  very  little  to  that  literature,  mances: 
But  now  she  had  native  writers  of  both  kinds,  the  Astr6e- 
pastoral  and  heroic,  who  completely  superseded  the  models 
they  had  before  them.  Their  earliest  essay  was  the  Astree 
of  D'Urfe.  Of  this  pastoral  romance  the  first  volume  was 
published  in  1610;  the  second,  in  1620:  three  more  came 
slowly  forth,  that  the  world  might  have  due  leisure  to  ad- 
mire. It  contains  about  5,500  pages.  It  would  be  almost 
as  discreditable  to  have  read  such  a  book  through  at  pres- 
ent, as  it  was  to  be  ignorant  of  it  in  the  ages  of  Louis 
XIII.  Allusions,  however,  to  real  circumstances  served 
in  some  measure  to  lessen  the  insipidity  of  a  love-story 
which  seems  to  equal  any  in  absurdity  and  want  of  inter- 
est. The  style,  and  I  can  judge  no  farther,  having  read  but 
a  few  pages,  seems  easy  and  not  unpleasing:  but  the  pas- 
toral tone  is  insufferably  puerile ;  and  a  monotonous  solemnity 
makes  us  almost  suspect,  that  one  source  of  its  popularity 
was  its  gentle  effect  when  read  in  small  portions  before  retir- 
ing to  rest  It  was,  nevertheless,  admired  by  men  of  erudition, 
like  Camus  and  Huet ;  or  even  by  men  of  the  world,  like 
Rochefoueault.1 

53.  From  the  union  of  the  old  chivalrous  romance  with 
this  newer  style,  the  courtly  pastoral,  sprang  another         . 
kind  of  fiction,  the  French  heroic  romance.     Three  mances. 
nearly  contemporary  writers,  Gomberville,   Calpre-  ^[™ber" 
nede,    Scuderi,    supplied  a   number  of  voluminous 
stories,  frequently   historical   in   some   of   their   names,  but 
utterly  destitute  of  truth   in  circumstances,  characters,  and 
manners.     Gomberville  led  the  way  in  his  Polexaudre,  first 
published  in   1G32,  and  reaching  in  later  editions  to  about 
6,000  pages.     "  This,"  says  a  modern  writer,  "  seems  to  have 
been  the  model  of  the  works  of   Calprenede  and  Scuderi. 
This  ponderous  work  may  be  regarded  as  a  sort   of  inter- 
mediate production  between  the  later  compositions  and  the 
ancient  fables  of  chivalry.      It  has,  indeed,  a  close  affinity 
to  the  heroic  romance  ;    but   many  of  the    exploits    of  the 
hero  are  as  extravagant  as  those  of  a  paladin  or  knight  of 
the  Round  Table."2     No   romance  in  the   language  has  so 

1  Dnnlop's  History  of  Fiction,  TO!,  iii.  p.  184 :  Biographic  TTniyerselle ;  Bouterwek 
vol.  v.  p.  295.  »  Dunlop,  iii.  230. 

VOL.  iii.  24 


870  CALPRENEDE.  PART  III 

complex  an  intrigue,  insomuch  that  it  is  followed  with  diffi- 
culty ;  and  the  author  has  in  successive  editions  capriciously 
remodelled  parts  of  his  story,  which  is  wholly  of  his  own 
invention.1 

54.    Calprenede,   a   poet   of  no   contemptible  powers  of 
imagination,  poured  forth  his  stores  of  rapid  inven- 

Calprenfede.   ,.      °.  '  *, 

tion  in  several  romances  more  celebrated  than  that 
of  Gomberville.  The  first,  which  is  contained  in  ten  octavo 
volumes,  is  the  Cassandra.  This  appeared  in  1642,  and  was 
followed  by  the  Cleopatra,  published,  according  to  the  custom 
of  romances,  in  successive  parts,  the  earliest  in  1646.  La 
Harpe  thinks  this  unquestionably  the  best  work  of  Calpre- 
nede ;  Bouterwek  seems  to  prefer  the  Cassandra ;  Pharamond 
is  not  wholly  his  own ;  five  out  of  twelve  volumes  belong  to 
one  De  Vaumoriere,  a  continuator.2  Calprenede,  like  many 
others,  had  but  a  life-estate  in  the  temple  of  fame,  and,  more 
happy  perhaps  than  greater  men,  lived  out  the  whole  favor 
of  the  world,  which,  having  been  largely  showered  on  his 
head,  strewed  no  memorials  on  his  grave.  It  became,  soon 
after  his  death,  through  the  satire  of  Boileau  and  the  influ- 
ence of  a  new  style  in  fiction,  a  matter  of  course  to  turn  him 
into  ridicule.  It  is  impossible  that  his  romances  should  be 
read  again  ;  but  those  who,  for  the  purposes  of  general  criti- 
cism, have  gone  back  to  these  volumes,  find  not  a  little  to 
praise  in  his  genius,  and  in  some  measure  to  explain  his  popu- 
larity. "  Calprenede,"  says  Bouterwek,  "  belonged  to  the 
extravagant  party,  which  endeavored  to  give  a  triumph  to 
genius  at  the  expense  of  taste,  and  by  that  very  means  played 
into  the  hands  of  the  opposite  party,  which  saw  nothing  so 
laudable  as  the  observation  of  the  rules  which  taste  pre- 
scribed. We  have  only  to  become  acquainted  with  any  one 
of  the  prolix  romances  of  Calprenede,  such,  for  instance,  as 
the  Cassandra,  to  see  clearly  the  spirit  which  animates  the 
whole  invention.  "We  find  there  again  the  heroism  of  chi- 
valry, the  enthusiastic  raptures  of  love,  the  struggle  of  duty 
with  passion,  the  victory  of  magnanimity,  sincerity,  and 
humanity,  over  force,  fraud,  and  barbarism,  in  the  genuine 
characters  and  circumstances  of  romance.  The  events  are 
skilfully  interwoven;  and  a  truly  poetical  keeping  belongs 
to  the  whole,  however  extended  it  may  be.  The  diction 
of  Calprenedo,  is  a  little  monotonous,  but  not  at  all  trivial, 

»  Biogr.  UniT.  »  Dunlop,  ffl.  269. 


CHAP.  TIL  SCUDERI.  371 

and  seldom  affected.  It  is  like  that  of  old  romance,  grave, 
circumstantial,  somewhat  in  the  chronicle  style,  but  pictur- 
esque, agreeable,  full  of  sensibility  and  simplicity.  Many  pas- 
sages might,  if  versified,  find  a  place  in  the  most  beautiful 
poem  of  this  class."  1 

55.  The  honors  of  this  romantic  literature  have  long  been 
shared  by  the  female  sex.     In  the  age  of  Richelieu  . 

and  Mazarin,  this  was  represented  by  Mademoiselle 
de  Seuderi,  a  name  very  glorious  for  a  season,  but  which 
unfortunately  did  not,  like  that  of  Calprenede,  continue  to  be 
such  during  the  whole  life-time  of  her  who  bore  it.  The  old 
age  of  Mademoiselle  de  Seuderi  was  ignominiously  treated 
by  the  pitiless  Boileau ;  and,  reaching  more  than  her  nine- 
tieth year,  she  almost  survived  her  only  offspring,  those  of 
her  pen.  In  her  youth,  she  had  been  the  associate  of  the 
Rambouillet  circle,  and  caught  perhaps  in  some  measure  from 
them  what  she  gave  back  with  interest, —  a  tone  of  perpetual 
affectation,  and  a  pedantic  gallantry,  which  could  not  withstand 
the  first  approach  of  ridicule.  Her  first  romance  was  Ibrahim, 
published  in  1635;  but  the  more  celebrated  were  the  Grand 
Cyrus  and  the  Clelie.  Each  of  these  two  romances  is  in  ten 
volumes.2  The  persons  chiefly  connected  with  the  Hotel 
Hambouillet  sat  for  their  pictures,  as  Persians  or  Babylonians, 
in  Cyrus.  Julie  d'Angennes  herself  bore  the  name  of  Arte- 
nice,  by  which  she  was  afterwards  distinguished  among  her 
friends ;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  instance  not  only  of  the  popu- 
larity of  these  romances,  but  of  the  respectful  sentiment, 
which,  from  the  elevation  and  purity  no  one  can  deny  them  to 
exhibit,  was  always  associated  in  the  gravest  persons  with 
their  fictions,  that  a  prelate  of  eminent  fame  for  eloquence, 
Flechier,  in  his  funeral  sermon  on  this  lady,  calls  her  '•  the 
incomparable  Artenice."  3  Such  an  allusion  would  appeal-  to 
us  misplaced  ;  but  we  may  presume  that  it  was  not  so  thought. 
Scuderrs  romances  seem  to  have  been  remarkably  the  favor- 
ites of  the  clergy:  Huet,  Mascaron,  Godeaa,  as  much  as 
Flechier,  were  her  ardent  admirers.  "  I  find,"  says  the  second 
of  these,  one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of  the  French  pulpit,  in 
writing  to  Mademoiselle  de  Seuderi,  "  so  much  in  your  works 
calculated  to  reform  the  world,  that,  in  the  sermons  I  am  now 

1  Bouterwek,  vi.  230.  *  Biogr.  UniT. ;  Dunlop ;  Bouterwek. 

»  Sermons  de  Flechier.  U.  325  (edit.  1690).     But  probably  Bossuet  would  not  haw 
itooped  to  this  allusion. 


372  SCUDERI— BARCLAY.  PART  DL 

preparing  for  the  court,  you  will  often  be  on  my  table  by  the 
side  of  St.  Augustin  and  St.  Bernard." l  In  the  writings  of  this 
lady,  we  see  the  last  footstep  of  the*  old  chivalrous  romance. 
She,  like  Calprenede,  had  derived  from  this  source  the  predo- 
minant characteristics  of  her  personages,  —  an  exalted  gene- 
rosity, a  disdain  of  all  selfish  considerations,  a  courage  which 
attempts  impossibilities  and  is  rewarded  by  achieving  them, 
a  love  outrageously  hyperbolical  in  pretence,  yet  intrinsically 
without  passion ;  all,  in  short,  that  Cervantes  has  bestowed  on 
Don  Quixote.  Love,  however,  or  its  counterfeit,  gallantry, 
plays  a  still  more  leading  part  in  the  French  romance  than  in 
its  Castilian  prototype ;  the  feats  of  heroes,  though  not  less 
wonderful,  are  less  prominent  on  the  canvas ;  and  a  metaphy- 
sical pedantry  replaces  the  pompous  metaphors  in  which  the 
knight  of  sorrowful  countenance  had  taken  so  much  delight. 
The  approbation  of  many  persons,  far  superior  judges  to  Don 
Quixote,  makes  it  impossible  to  doubt  that  the  romances  of 
Calprenede  and  Scuderi  were  better  than  his  library.  But, 
as  this  is  the  least  possible  praise,  it  will  certainly  not  tempt 
any  one  away  from  the  rich  and  varied  repast  of  fiction  which 
the  last  and  present  century  have  spread  before  him.  Made- 
moiselle de  Scuderi  has  perverted  history  still  more  than  Cal- 
prenede, and  changed  her  Romans  into  languishing  Parisians. 
It  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  that  the  taste  of  her  party,  though  it 
did  not,  properly  speaking,  infect  Corneille,  compelled  him  to 
weaken  some  of  his  tragedies.  And  this  must  be  the  justifi- 
cation of  Boileau's  cutting  ridicule  upon  this  truly  estimable 
woman.  She  had  certainly  kept  up  a  tone  of  severe  and  high 
morality,  with  which  the  aristocracy  of  Paris  could  ill  dis- 
pense ;  but  it  was  one  not  difficult  to  feign,  and  there  might 
be  Tartuffes  of  sentiment  as  well  as  of  religion.  Whatever 
is  false  in  taste  is  apt  to  be  allied  to  what  is  insincere  in 
character. 

56.  The  Argenis  of  Barclay,  a  son  of  the  defender  of  royal 
Argcnis  of  authority  against  republican  theories,  is  a  Latin 
Barclay.  romance,  superior  perhaps  to  those  after  Cervantes, 
which  the  Spanish  or  French  language  could  boast.  It  has 
indeed  always  been  reckoned  among  political  allegories.  That 

1  Biogr.  Univ.    Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi  well,  as  appears  by  her  epigram  on  her 

was  not  (fittuil  by  nature  with  beauty,  or,  own  picture  by  Nautuuil  : 

as    this    biographer    more  bluntly   gays,  "  Nanteuil  cu'faisiint  nion  image, 
u  etait  d'une  extreme  laideur."   She  would        A  de  son  art  divin  signale  le  pouTolr ; 
probably  have   wished  this  to  have  been        Je  haTs  mes  yens  dans  mon  miroir, 
otherwise,  but  carried  off  the  matter  very        Je  lea  aiine  iLum  son  ouvrage." 


CHAP.  YIL  CAMPANELLA.  373 

the  state  of  France  in  the  last  years  of  Henry  HI.  is  partially 
shadowed  in  it,  can  admit  of  no  doubt :  several  characters  are 
faintly  veiled  either  by  anagram  or  Greek  translation  of  their 
names ;  but  whether  to  avoid  the  insipidity  of  servile  alle- 
gory, or  to  excite  the  reader  by  perplexity,  Barclay  has 
mingled  so  much  of  mere  fiction  with  his  story,  that  no 
attempts  at  a  regular  key  to  the  whole  work  can  be  successful ; 
nor  in  fact  does  the  fable  of  this  romance  run  in  any  parallel 
stream  with  real  events.  Has  object  seems,  in  great  measure, 
.to  have  been  the  discussion  of  political  questions  in  feigned 
dialogue.  But,  though  in  these  we  find  no  want  of  acuteness 
or  good  sense,  they  have  not  at  present  much  novelty  in  our 
eyes ;  and  though  the  style  is  really  pleasing,  or,  as  some  have 
judged,  excellent,1  and  the  incidents  not  ill  contrived,  it  might 
be  hard  to  go  entirely  through  a  Latin  romance  of  700  pages, 
unless  indeed  we  had  no  alternative  given  but  the  perusal  of 
the  similar  works  in  Spanish  or  French.  The  Argenis  was 
published  at  Rome  in  1622 :  some  of  the  personages  introduced 
by  Barclay  are  his  own  contemporaries ;  a  proof  that  he  did 
not  intend  a  strictly  historical  allegory  of  the  events  of  the 
last  age.  The  Euphormio  of  the  same  author  resem-  ms  EU- 
bles  in  some  degree  the  Argenis ;  but,  with  less  of  Phormio- 
story  and  character,  has  a  more  direct  reference  to  European 
politics.  It  contains  much  political  disquisition ;  and  one 
whole  book  is  employed  in  a  description  of  the  manners  and 
laws  of  different  countries,  with  no  disguise  of  names. 

57.  Campanella  gave  a  loose  to  his  fanciful  humor  in  a 
fiction,  entitled  The  City  of  the  Sun,  published  at  Campanel. 
Frankfort  in  1623,  in  imitation,  perhaps,  of  the  la's  city 
Utopia,  The  City  of  the  Sun  is  supposed  to  stand  of  theSun- 
upon  a  mountain  situated  in  Ceylon,  under  the  equator.  A 
community  of  goods  and  women  is  established  in  this  repub- 
lic, the  principal  magistrate  of  which  is  styled  Sun,  and  is 
elected  after  a  strict  examination  in  all  kinds  of  science. 
Campanella  has  brought  in  so  much  of  his  own  philosophical 
system,  that  we  may  presume  that  to  have  been  the  object  of 
this  romance.  The  Solars,  he  tells  us,  abstained  at  first  from 
flesh,  because  they  thought  it  cruel  to  kill  animals.  "  But 

1  Coleridge  has  pronounced  an  ardent  Latinity  is  more  that  of  Petronius  Arbiter ; 

and  rather  excessive  eulogy  on  the  Ian-  but  I  am  not  well  enough   acquainted 

gunge  of  the  Argenis,  preferring  it  to  that  with  that  writer    to   speak   confidently, 

of  Livy  or  Tacitus.    Coleridge's  Remains,  The  same  observation  seems  applicable  i» 

vol.  i.  p.  257.    I  cannot  by  any  means  go  the  Euphormio. 
this  length:    it  has  struck  me  that  the 


374  ENGLISH  BOOKS  OF  FICTION.  PART  HI. 

afterwards  considering  that  it  would  be  equally  cruel  to  kill 
plants,  which  are  no  less  endowed  with  sensation,  so  that  they 
must  perish  by  famine,  they  understood  that  ignoble  things 
were  created  for  the  use  of  nobler  things,  and  now  eat  all 
things  without  scruple."  Another  Latin  romance  had  some 
celebrity  in  its  day,  the  Monarchia  Solipsorum,  a  satire  on  the 
Jesuits  in  the  fictitious  name  of  Lucius  Cornelius  Europeus. 
It  has  been  ascribed  to  more  than  one  person:  the  probable 
author  is  one  Scotti,  who  had  himself  belonged  to  the  order.1 
This  book  did  not  seem  to  me  in  the  least  interesting  :  if  it  ia 
BO  in  any  degree,  it  must  be  not  as  mere  fiction,  but  as  a 
revelation  of  secrets. 

58.  It  is  not  so  much  an  extraordinary  as  an  unfortunate 
Few  books    deficiency  in  our  own  literary  annals,  that  England 
of  fiction  in  should  have  been  destitute  of  the  comic  romance,  or 

ng  an  .     ^^  ^erjve(j  from  rea|  iif6}  m  fa{a  period ;  since  in 

fact  we  may  say  the  same,  as  has  been  seen,  of  France.  The 
picaresque  novels  of  Spain  were  thought  well  worthy  of  trans- 
lation ;  but  it  occurred  to  no  one,  or  no  one  had  the  gift 
of  genius,  to  shift  the  scene,  and  imitate  their  delineation  of 
native  manners.  Of  how  much  value  would  have  been  a 
genuine  English  novel,  the  mirror  of  actual  life  in  the  various 
ranks  of  society,  written  under  Elizabeth  or  under  the  Stuarts ! 
We  should  have  seen,  if  the  execution  had  not  been  very 
coarse,  and  the  delineation  absolutely  confined  to  low  charac- 
ters, the  social  habits  of  our  forefathers  better  than  by  all  our 
other  sources  of  that  knowledge, — the  plays,  the  letters,  the 
traditions  and  anecdotes,  the  pictures  or  buildings,  of  the  time. 
Notwithstanding  the  interest  which  all  profess  to  take  in  the 
history  of  manners,  our  notions  of  them  are  generally  meagre 
and  imperfect;  and  hence  modern  works  of  fiction  are  but 
crude  and  inaccurate  designs  when  they  endeavor  to  represent 
the  living  England  of  two  centuries  since.  Even  Scott,  who 
had  a  fine  instinctive  perception  of  truth  and  nature,  and 
who  had  read  much,  does  not  appear  to  have  seized  the 
genuine  tone  of  conversation,  and  to  have  been  a  little  misled 
by  the  style  of  Shakspeare.  This  is  rather  elaborate  and 
removed  from  vulgar  use  by  a  sort  of  archaism  in  phrase, 
and  by  a  pointed  turn  in  the  dialogue,  adapted  to  theatrical 
utterance,  but  wanting  the  ease  of  ordinary  speech. 

59.  I  can  only  produce  two  books  by  English  authors,  in 

1  Biogr  Uniy.,  arts.  "  Scotti  and  Inchoffer  j  "  Niceron,  vols.  xxxv.  and  xxiis. 


CHAP.  VH.  HALL  — GODWDT.  375 

this  first  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  which  fall  properly 
under  the  class  of  novels  or  romances ;  and,  of  these, 
one  is  written  in  Latin.     This  is  the  Mundus  Alter  Alter  et 
et  Idem  of  Bishop  Hall,  an  imitation  of  the  latter  ^,™of 
and  weaker  volumes   of   Rabelais.      A  country  in 
Terra  Australis  is  divided  into  four  regions,  —  Crapulia,  Vira- 
ginia,  Moronea,  and  Lavernia.     Maps  of  the  whole  land  and 
of  particular  regions  are  given ;  and  the  nature  of  the  satire, 
not  much  of  which  has  any  especial  reference  to   England, 
may  easily  be  collected.     It  is  not  a  very  successful  effort. 

60.  Another  prelate,  or  one  who  became  such,  Francis 
Godwin,  was  the  author  of  a  much  more  curious  Godwin?s 
story.  It  is  called  the  Man  in  the  Moon,  and  relates  Journey  to 
the  journey  of  one  Domingo  Gonzalez  to  that  planet. 
This  was  written  by  Godwin,  according  to  Antony  "Wood, 
while  he  was  a  student  at  Oxford.1  By  some  internal  proofs, 
it  must  have  been  later  than  1599,  and  before  the  death  of 
Elizabeth  in  1603.  But  it  was  not  published  till  1638.  It 
was  translated  into  French,  and  became  the  model  of  Cy- 
rano de  Bergerac,  as  he  was  of  Swift.  Godwin  himself 
had  no  prototype,  as  far  as  I  know,  but  Lucian.  He  resem- 
bles those  writers  in  the  natural  and  veracious  tone  of  his 
lies.  The  fiction  is  rather  ingenious  and  amusing  throughout ; 
but  the  most  remarkable  part  is  the  happy  conjectures,  if  we 
must  say  no  more,  of  his  philosophy.  Not  only  does  the 
writer  declare  positively  for  the  Copernican  system,  which 
was  uncommon  at  that  time,  but  he  has  surprisingly  under- 
stood the  principle  of  gravitation  ;  it  being  distinctly  supposed 
that  the  earth's  attraction  diminishes  with  the  distance.  Nor 
is  the  following  passage  less  curious :  "  I  must  let  you  under- 
stand that  the  globe  of  the  moon  is  not  altogether  destitute 
of  an  attractive  power ;  but  it  is  far  weaker  than  that  of  the 
earth :  as  if  a  man  do  but  spring  upwards  with  all  hi?,  force, 
as  dancers  do.  when  they  show  their  activity  by  capering,  he 
shall  be  able  to  mount  fifty  or  sixty  feet  high,  and  then  he  is 
quite  beyond  all  attraction  of  the  moon."  By  this  device, 
Gonzalez  returns  from  his  sojourn  in  the  latter,  though  it 
required  a  more  complex  one  to  bring  him  thither.  "  The 
moon,"  he  observes,  "  is  covered  with  a  sea,  except  the  parts 

1  Athense  Oxonienses,  vol.  ii.  col.  558.    work,  and  takes  Dominic  Gonzalez  for  the 
It  is  remarkable   that  Mr.   Dunlop  has    real  author.    Hist,  of  Fiction,  iii.  3&4 
been  ignorant  of  Godwin's  claim  to  this 


376  HOWELL— AGKIPPA  D'AUBIGNE.  PART  HI. 

which  seem  somewhat  darker  to  us,  and  are  dry  land."  A 
contrary  hypothesis  came  afterwards  to  prevail ;  but  we  must 
not  expect  every  thing  from  otir  ingenious  young  student. 

61.  Though  I  can  mention  nothing  else  in  English  which 
Howeii's      comes  exactly  within  our  notions  of  a  romance,  we 
Dodona's     may  advert  to  the  Dodona's  Grove  of  James  Howell. 

This  is  a  strange  allegory,  without  any  ingenuity  in 
maintaining  the  analogy  between  the  outer  and  inner  story, 
which  alone  can  give  a  reader  any  pleasure  in  allegorical 
writing.  The  subject  is  the  state  of  Europe,  especially  of 
England,  about  1 640,  under  the  guise  of  animated  trees  in  a 
forest.  The  style  is  like  the  following :  "  The  next  morning 
the  royal  olives  sent  some  prime  elms  to  attend  Prince  Roco- 
lino  in  quality  of  officers  of  state ;  and,  a  little  after,  he  was 
brought  to  the  royal  palace  in  the  same  state  Elaiana's  kings 
use  to  be  attended  the  day  of  their  coronation."  The  contri- 
vance is  all  along  so  clumsy  and  unintelligible,  the  invention 
so  poor  and  absurd,  the  story,  if  story  there  be,  so  dull  an 
echo  of  well-known  events,  that  it  is  impossible  to  reckon 
Dodona's  Grove  any  thing  but  an  entire  failure.  Howell  has 
no  wit ;  but  he  has  abundance  of  conceits,  flat  and  common- 
place enough.  With  all  this,  he  was  a  man  of  some  sense  and 
observation.  His  letters  are  entertaining ;  but  they  scarcely 
deserve  consideration  in  this  volume. 

62.  It  is  very  possible  that  some  small  works  belonging  to 
Adventures  ^s  extensive  class  have  been  omitted,  which  my 
of  naron      readers,  or  myself  on  second   consideration,  might 

'ste*  think  not  unworthy  of  notice.  It  is  also  one  so  mis- 
cellaneous, that  we  might  fairly  doubt  as  to  some  which  have 
a  certain  claim  to  be  admitted  into  it.  Such  are  the  Adven- 
tures of  the  Baron  de  Faeneste,  by  the  famous  Agrippa  d'Au- 
bigne  (whose  autobiography,  by  the  way,  has  at  least  the 
liveliness  of  fiction) ;  a  singular  book,  written  in  dialogue, 
where  an  imaginary  Gascon  baron  recounts  his  tales  of  the 
camp  and  the  court.  He  is  made  to  speak  a  patois  not  quite 
easy  for  us  to  understand,  and  not  perhaps  worth  the  while ; 
but  it  seems  to  contain  much  that  illustrates  the  state  of 
France  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Much  in  this  book  is  satirical;  and  the  satire  falls  on  the 
Catholics,  whom  Fseneste,  a  mere  foolish  gentleman  of  Gas- 
cony,  is  made  to  defend  against  an  acute  Huguenot 


CHAP.  VUL  STATE  OF  SCIENCE.  377 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

HISTORY  OP  MATHEMATICAL  AND  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE  FROM  1600  TO  1650. 

SECTION  L 

Invention  of  Logarithms  by  Napier  —  New  Geometry  of  Kepler  and  Cavallen  — 
Algebra  —  Harriott  —  Descartes  —  Astronony  —  Kepler  —  Galileo  —  Copernican  Sys- 
tem begins  to  prevail  —  Cartesian  Theory  of  the  World  —  Mechanical  Discoveries 
of  Galileo  —  Descartes  —  Hydrostatics  —  Optics. 

1.  IN  the  last  part  of  this  work,  we  have  followed  the  pro- 
gress of  mathematical  and  physical  knowledge  down 

.,          ,  f    .,         .    .         f,    ^  mi  •       .     State  of 

to  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  1  he  ancient  Bdencem 
geometers  had  done  so  much  in  their  own  province  ^^l;!*11 
of  lines  and  figures,  that  little  more  of  importance 
could  be  effected,  except  by  new  methods  extending  the  limits 
of  the  science,  or  derived  from  some  other  source  of  invention. 
Algebra  had  yielded  a  more  abundant  harvest  to  the  genius 
of  the  sixteenth  century ;  yet  something  here  seemed  to  be 
wanting  to  give  that  science  a  character  of  utility  and  refer- 
ence to  general  truth ;  nor  had  the  formulae  of  letters  and 
radical  signs  that  perceptible  beauty  which  often  wins  us  to 
delight  in  geometrical  theorems  of  as  little  apparent  usefulness 
in  their  results.  Meanwhile,  the  primary  laws,  to  which  all 
mathematical  reasonings  in  their  relation  to  physical  truths 
must  be  accommodated,  lay  hidden,  or  were  erroneously  con- 
ceived ;  and  none  of  these  latter  sciences,  with  the  exception 
of  astronomy,  Avere  beyond  their  mere  infancy,  either  as  to 
observation  or  theory.1 

2.  Astronomy,  cultivated  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth 
century  with  much  industry  and  success,  was  repressed,  among 
other  more  insuperable  obstacles,  by  the  laborious  calcula- 

1  In  this  chapter  my  obligations  to  Histoire  des  Mathematiques,  *hich  must 
Montucla  are  so  numerous,  that  I  shall  be  understood  to  be  my  principal  authori- 
seldom  make  particular  references  to  his  ty  as  io  facts. 


373  NAPIEB.  PAET  m. 

tions  that  it  required.  The  trigonometrical  tables  of  sines, 
Tedious-  tangents,  and  secants,  if  they  were  to  produce  any 
nessofcai-  tolerable  accuracy  in  astronomical  observation,  must 
ons<  be  computed  to  six  or  seven  places  of  decimals,  upon 
which  the  regular  processes  of  multiplication  and  division 
were  perpetually  to  be  employed.  The  consumption  of  time 
as  well  as  risk  of  error  which  this  occasioned  was  a  serious 
evil  to  the  practical  astronomer. 

3.  John  Napier,  laird  of  Merchiston,  after  several  attempts 
Napier'?  in-   to  diminish  this  labor  by  devices  of  his  invention, 
ventipn  of     was  happy  enough  to  discover  his  famous  method  of 

ims'  logarithms.  This  he  first  published  at  Edinburgh 
in  1614,  with  the  title,  Mirifici  Logarithmorum  Canonis  De- 
scriptio,  sen  Arithmeticarum  Supputationum  Mirabilis  Abbre- 
viatio.  He  died  in  1618;  and,  in  a  posthumous  edition 
entitled  Mirifici  Logarithmorum  Canonis  Constructio,  1619, 
the  method  of  construction,  which  had  been  at  first  withheld, 
is  given ;  and  the  system  itself,  in  consequence,  perhaps,  of  the 
suggestion  of  his  friend  Briggs,  underwent  some  change. 

4.  The  invention  of  logarithms  is  one  of  the  rarest  in- 
Their          stances  of  sagacity  in  the  history  of  mankind ;  and 
nature.       ft  fo^  jjeen  justly  noticed  as  remarkable,   that   it 
issued  complete  from  the  mind  of  its  author,  and  has  not 
received  any  improvement  since  his  time.     It  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  say  that  logarithms  are  a  series  of  numbers,  arranged 
in  tables  parallel  to  the  series  of  natural  numbers,  and  of 
such  a  construction,  that,  by  adding  the  logarithms  of  two 
of  the  latter,  we  obtain  the  logarithm  of  their  product ;  by 
subtracting  the  logarithm  of  one  number  from  that  of  another, 
we  obtain   that   of  their   quotient.     The   longest   processes, 
therefore,  of  multiplication  and  division  are  spared,  and  re- 
duced to  one  of  mere  addition  or  subtraction. 

5.  It  has  been  supposed,  that  an  arithmetical  fact,  said  to 
_       .     ,    be  mentioned  by  Archimedes,  and  which  is  certainly 

Property  of  .      /  •> 

numbers  pointed  out  in  the  work  or  an  early  German  writer, 
b^JfeSL.  Michael  Stifelius,  put  Napier  in  the  right  course  for 
this  invention.  It  will  at  least  serve  to  illustrate 
the  principle  of  logarithms.  Stifelius  shows,  that,  if  in  a  geo 
metrical  progression  we  add  the  indices  of  any  terms  in  the 
series,  we  shall  obtain  the  index  of  the  products  of  those 
terms.  Thus,  if  we  compare  the  geometrical  progression, 
1,  2,  4,  8,  16,  32,  64,  with  the  arithmetical  one  which  numbers 


CHAP.  Vm.  NAPIER.  379 

the  powers  of  the  common  ratio,  namely,  0,  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6, 
we  see  that  by  adding  two  terms  of  the  latter  progression,  as 
2  and  3,  to  which  4  and  8  correspond  in  the  geometrical 
series,  we  obtain  5,  to  which  32,  the  product  of  4  by  8,  cor- 
responds ;  and  the  quotient  would  be  obtained  in  a  similar 
manner.  But  though  this,  which  becomes  self-evident  when 
algebraical  expressions  are  employed  for  the  terms  of  a  series, 
seemed  at  the  time  rather  a  curious  property  of  numbers  in 
geometrical  progression,  it  was  of  little  value  in  facilitating 
calculation. 

6.  If  Napier  had  simply  considered  numbers  in  themselves 
as  repetitions  of  unity,  which  is  their  only  intelligi-  Extende(j 
ble  definition,  it  does  not  seem  that  he  could  ever  to  magni 
have  carried  this  observation  upon  progressive  series 
any  farther.  Numerically  understood,  the  terms  of  a  geome- 
trical progression  proceed  per  saltum  ;  and,  in  the  series  2,  4, 
8,  1 6,  it  is  as  unmeaning  to  say  that  3,  5,  6,  7,  9,  in  any  pos- 
sible sense,  have  a  place,  or  can  be  introduced  to  any  purpose, 
as  that  J,  £,  ^,  ^  or  other  fractions,  are  true  numbers  at  all.1 
The  case,  however,  is  widely  different  when  we  use  numbers 
as  merely  the  signs  of  something  capable  of  continuous  increase 
or  decrease ;  of  space,  of  duration,  of  velocity.  These  are,  for 
our  convenience,  divided  by  arbitrary  intervals,  to  which  the 
numerical  unit  is  made  to  correspond.  But,  as  these  intervals 
are  indefinitely  divisible,  the  unit  is  supposed  capable  of  divi- 
sion into  fractional  parts,  each  of  them  a  representation  of  the 
ratio  which  a  portion  of  the  interval  bears  to  the  whole.  And 
thus  also  we  must  see,  that,  as  fractions  of  the  unit  bear  a 
relation  to  uniform  quantity,  so  all  the  integral  numbers  which 
do  not  enter  into  the  terms  of  a  geometrical  progression  cor- 
respond to  certain  portions  of  variable  quantity.  If  a  body 
falling  down  an  inclined  plane  acquires  a  velocity  at  one  point 
which  would  carry  it  through  two  feet  in  a  second,  and  at 

1  Few  books  of  arithmetic,  or  even  alge-  cant,  sive  fractiones,  esse  quidam  uni  e* 

bra,  draw  the  reader's   attention  at  the  nulli  quasi  intermedios.     Sed  addo,  quo ' 

outset  to  this  essential  distinction  between  jam  transitur  etf  u?M  yevo?.    Respon- 

discrete  and  continuous  quantity,  which  detur  emm  nou  de  quotj  sed  de  quanta 

is  almost  sure  to  be  overlooked  in  all  their  pertinet  igitur  na^  responsio  proprie  lo 

subsequent  reasonings.     Wallis  has  done  quendo,  non  tarn  ad  quantitatem  discre- 

it  properly  :    after   stating  very   clearly  fc^  ^u.  numerum,  quarn  ad  jontinuam; 

that  there  are  no  proper  numbers  but  prout  nora  gupnonitur  esse  quid  continu- 

integers,  he  meets  the  objection,  that  frac-  um  m  partes  divisible,  quamvis  quidem 

tions  are  called    intermediate    numbers,  harum   nartiutu  ad  totum  ratio  numeri* 

"Concedo  quidem  sic  responded  posse;  expnmatur."  —  Maiiesis  Universalis,  c.  1. 
•oucedo  etiam  nuraeros  quos  fractos  TO- 


880  NAPIER  — BRIGGS.  PART  m. 

a  lower  point  one  which  would  carry  it  through  four  feet  in  the 
same  time,  there  must,  by  the  nature  of  a  continually  accele- 
rated motion,  be  some  point  between  these  where  the  velocity 
might  be  represented  by  the  number  three.  Hence,  wherever 
the  numbers  of  a  common  geometrical  series,  like  2,  4,  8,  16 
represent  velocities  at  certain  intervals,  the  intermediate  num- 
bers will  represent  velocities  at  intermediate  intervals ;  and 
thus  it  may  be  said,  that  all  numbers  are  terms  of  a  geometri- 
cal progression,  but  one  which  should  always  be  considered  as 
what  it  is,  —  a  progression  of  continuous,  not  discrete  quan- 
tity, capable  of  being  indicated  by  number,  but  not  number 
itself. 

7.  It  was  a  necessary  consequence,  that,   if  all  numbers 
ByNa  ier    cou^  be  treated  as  terms  of  a  progression,  and  if 

their  indices  could  be  found  like  those  of  an  ordinary 
series,  the  method  of  finding  products  of  terms  by  addition  of 
indices  would  be  universal.  The  means  that  Napier  adopted 
for  this  purpose  were  surprisingly  ingenious ;  but  it  would  be 
difficult  to  make  them  clear  to  those  who  are  likely  to  require 
it,  especially  without  the  use  of  lines.  It  may  suffice  to  say 
that  his  process  was  labgrious  in  the  highest  degree,  consisting 
of  the  interpolation  of  6,931,472  mean  proportionals  between 
1  and  2,  and  repeating  a  similar  and  still  more  tedious  opera- 
tion for  all  prime  numbers.  The  logarithms  of  other  numbers 
were  easily  obtained,  according  to  the  fundamental  principle 
of  the  invention,  by  adding  their  factors.  Logarithms  appear 
to  have  been  so  called  because  they  aie  the  sum  of  these 
mean  ratios,  Tubyuv  upidfio^ 

8.  In  the  original  tables  of  Napier,  the  logarithm  of  10 
Tables  of     was    2.3025850.      In    those    published    afterwards 
Napier  and   (1618),  he  changed  this  for  1.0000000;  making,  of 

course,  that  of  100,  2.0000000,  and  so  forth.  This 
construction  has  been  followed  since ;  but  those  of  the  first 
method  are  not  wholly  neglected :  they  are  called  hyperbolical 
logarithms  from  expressing  a  property  of  that  curve.  Napier 
found  a  coadjutor  well  Avorthy  of  him  in  Henry  Briggs,  pro- 
fessor of  geometry  at  Gresham  College.  It  is  uncertain  from 
which  of  them  the  change  in  the  form  of  logarithms  pro- 
ceeded. Briggs,  in  1618,  published  a  table  of  logarithms  up 
to  1,000,  calculated  by  himself.  This  was  followed  in  1G24 
by  his  greater  work,  Arithmetica  Logarithmica,  containing 
the  logarithms  of  all  natural  numbers  as  high  as  20,000,  and 


CHAP.  VUL  KEPLER.  381 

again  from  90,000  to  100,000.  These  are  calculated  to  four- 
teen places  of  decimals ;  thus  reducing  the  error,  which, 
strictly  speaking,  must  always  exist  from  the  principle  of 
logarithmical  construction,  to  an  almost  infinitesimal  fraction. 
He  had  designed  to  publish  a  second  table,  with  the  loga- 
rithms of  sines  and  tangents  to  the  100th  part  of  a  degree. 
This  he  left  in  a  considerably  advanced  state ;  and  it  was 
published  by  Gellibrand  in  1633.  Gunter  had,  as  early  aa 
1620,  given  the  logarithms  of  sines  and  tangents  on  the  sexa- 
gesimal scale,  as  far  as  seven  decimals.  Vlacq,  a  Dutch 
bookseller,  printed  in  1628  a  translation  of  Briggs's  Arith- 
metica  Logarithmica,  filling  up  the  interval  from  20,000  to 
90,000,  with  logarithms  calculated  to  eleven  decimals.  He 
published  also,  in  1 633,  his  Trigonometrica  Artificialis ;  the 
most  useful  work,  perhaps,  that  had  appeared,  as  it  incorpo- 
rated the  labors  of  Briggs  and  Gellibrand.  Kepler  came  like 
a  master  to  the  subject;  and,  observing  that  some  foreign 
mathematicians  disliked  the  theory  upon  which  Napier  had 
explained  the  nature  of  logarithms,  as  not  rigidly  geometrical, 
gave  one  of  his  own,  to  which  they  could  not  object.  But  it 
may  probably  be  said,  that  the  very  novelty  to  which  the 
disciples  of  the  ancient  geometry  were  averse,  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  notion  of  velocity  into  mathematical  reasoning, 
was  that  which  linked  the  abstract  science  of  quantity  with 
nature,  and  prepared  the  way  for  that  expansive  theory  of 
infinites,  which  bears  at  once  upon  the  subtlest  truths  that 
can  exercise  the  understanding,  and  the  most  evident  that  can 
fall  under  the  senses. 

9.  It  was,  indeed,  at  this  time  that  the  modern  geometry, 
which,  if  it  deviates  something  from  the  clearness   Kepler»8 
and  precision  of  the  ancient,  has  incomparably  the   new  geo- 
advantage  over  it  in  its  reach  of  application,  took  its 
rise.     Kepler  was  the  man  that  led  the  way.     He  published 
in  1615  his  Nova  Stereometria  Doliorum,  a  treatise  on  the 
capacity  of  casks.     In  this  he  considers   the   various   solids 
which  may  be  formed  by  the  revolution  of  a  segment  of  a 
conic  section  round  a  line  which  is  not  its  axis  ;    a  condition 
not  unfrequent  in  the  form  of  a  cask.     Many  of  the  problems 
which  he  starts  he  is  unable  to    solve.     But  what  is  most 
remarkable  in  this  treatise  is,  that  he  here  suggests  the  bold 
idea,  that  a  circle  may  be  deemed  to  be  composed  of  an  infi- 
nite number  of  triangles,  having  their  bases  in  their  circum- 


382  KEPLER.  TAUT  m. 

ference,  and  their  common  apex  in  the  centre  ;  a  cone,  in  like 
manner,  of  infinite  pyramids,  and  a  cylinder  of  infinite  prisms.1 
The  ancients  had  shown,  as  is  well  known,  that  a  polygon 
inscribed  in  a  circle,  and  another  described  about  it,  may,  by- 
continual  bisection  of  their  sides,  be  made  to  approach  nearer 
to  each  other  than  by  any  assignable  difference.  The  circle 
itself  lay,  of  course,  between  them.  Euclid  contents  himself 
with  saying,  that  the  circle  is  greater  than  any  polygon  that 
can  be  inscribed  in  it,  and  less  than  any  polygon  that  can  be 
described  about  it.  The  method  by  which  they  approximated 
to  the  curve  space  by  continual  increase  or  diminution  of  the 
rectilineal  figure  was  called  exhaustion ;  and  the  space  itself 
is  properly  called  by  later  geometers  the  limit.  As  curvili- 
neal  and  rectilineal  spaces  cannot  possibly  be  compared  by 
means  of  superposition,  or  by  showing  that  their  several  con- 
stituent portions  could  be  made  to  coincide,  it  had  long  been 
acknowledged  by  the  best  geometers  impossible  to  quadrate 
by  a  direct  process  any  curve  surface.  But  Archimedes  had 
found,  as  to  the  parabola,  that  there  was  a  rectilineal  space, 
of  which  he  could  indirectly  demonstrate  that  it  was  equal, 
that  is,  could  not  be  unequal,  to  the  curve  itself. 

10.  In  this  state  of  the  general  problem,  the  ancient 
its  differ-  methods  of  indefinite  approximation  having  prepared 
cncefrom  the  way,  Kepler  came  to  his  solution  of  questions 
ent'  which  regarded  the  -capacity  of  vessels.  According 
to  Fabroni,  he  supposed  solids  to  consist  of  an  infinite  number 
of  surfaces,  surfaces  of  an  infinity  of  lines,  lines  of  infinite 
points.2  If  this  be  strictly  true,  he  must  have  left  little,  in 
point  of  invention,  for  Cavalieri.  So  long  as  geometry  is 
employed  as  a  method  of  logic,  an  exercise  of  the  under- 
standing on  those  modifications  of  quantity  which  the  imagi- 
nation cannot  grasp,  such  as  points,  lines,  infinites,  it  must 
appear  almost  an  offensive  absurdity  to  speak  of  a  circle  as  a 
polygon  with  an  infinite  number  of  sides.  But  when  it 
becomes  the  handmaid  of  practical  art,  or  even  of  physical 
science,  there  can  be  no  other  objection  than  always  arises 
from  incongruity  and  incorrectness  of  language.  It  has  been 

1  Fabroni,  Vitae  Italorum,  i.  272.  antiquarum    demonstrationum    circuitus 

2  "Idem  quoque    solida   cogitavit    ex  ac  methodus  inter  se  comparand!  figuraa 
infinite    numero    superficierum    existere,  circumscriptas  et  inscriptas  us  plaui.s  ant 
superficies  autem  ex  lineis  infmitU,   ac  solidis,  quae  mensuranda  essent,  ita  de- 
lineis  ex  infinitis  punctis.    Ostendit  ipse  clinareutur."  —  Fabroni,  Vitse  Italorum, 
quantum  ea  ratione  brevier  fieri  via  possit  i.  272. 

ad  vtT<i  quwdam  captu  difficiliora,  cum 


CHAP.  Vm.  GALILEO  —  CAVALIER!.  383 

found  possible  to  avoid  the  expressions  attributed  to  Kepler ; 
but  they  seem  to  denote,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  those  of 
Euclid  or  Archimedes,  —  that  the  difference  between  a  mag- 
nitude and  its  limit  may  be  regularly  diminished,  till,  without 
strictly  vanishing,  it  becomes  less  than  any  assignable  quantity, 
and  may  consequently  be  disregarded  in  reasoning  upon 
actual  bodies. 

11.  Galileo,  says  Fabroni,  trod  in  the  steps  of  Kepler,  and 
in  his  first  dialogue  on  mechanics,  when  treating  of  Adopted  by 
a  cylinder  cut  out  of  an  hemisphere,  became  con-  Galileo 
versant  with  indivisibles  (familiarem  habere  crepit  cum  indi- 
visibilibus  usum).     But   in   that   dialogue   he   confused   the 
metaphysical  notions  of  divisible  quantity,  supposing  it  to  be 
composed  of  unextended  indivisibles ;    and,  not  venturing  to 
affirm  that  infinites  could  be  equal  or  unequal  to  one  another, 
he  preferred  to  say  that  words  denoting  equality  or  excess 
could  only  be  used  as  to  finite  quantities.     In  his  fourth  dia- 
logue, on  the  centre  of  gravity,  he  comes  back  to  the  exhaus- 
tive method  of  Archimedes.1. 

12.  Cavalieri,  professor  of  mathematics   at   Bologna,  the 
generally  reputed  father  of  the  new  geometry,  though   Extended 
Kepler  seems  to  have  so  greatly  anticipated  him,   by  Cava- 
had  completed  his  Method  of  Indivisibles  in  1626.   Ueri' 
The  book  was  not  published  till  1635.     His  leading  principle 
is,  that  solids  are  composed  of  an  infinite  number  of  surfaces 
placed  one  above  another  as  their  indivisible  elements.     Sur- 
faces are  formed  in  like  manner  by  lines,  and  lines  by  points. 
This,  however,  he  asserts  with  some  excuse  and  explanation ; 
declaring  that  he  does  not  use  the  words  so  strictly  as  to  have 
it  supposed  that  divisible  quantities  truly  and  literally  consist 
of  indivisibles,  but  that  the  ratio  of  solids  is  the  same  as  that 
of  an  infinite  number  of  surfaces,  and  the  ratio  of  surfaces 
the  same  as  that  of  an  infinite  number  of  lines ;  and,  to  put 
an  end  to  cavil,  he  demonstrated  that  the  same  consequences 
would  follow,  if  a  method  should  be  adopted,  borrowing  nothing 
from   the   consideration   of  indivisibles.2      This   explanation 

1  Fabroni,  Vitse  Italorum.  infinitarum  linearum  :  denique  ut  ornnia, 
"  NOB  eo  rigore  a  se  voces  adhiberi,  quse  contra  cliei  poterant,  in  radiee  prae- 
ac  si  dividual  quantitates  vere  ac  proprie  cideret,  demonstravit,  easdem  omnino 
ex  indiTjsibilibus  exi.sterent  ;  verumta-  consecutiones  erui,  si  methodi  aut  ra- 
tten id  sibi  duntaxat  velle,  ut  proportio  tiones  adhiberentur  onmino  diverge,  qusp 
solidortim  eadem  esset  ac  ratio  superfi-  nihil  ab  indivisibilium  consideratione  pen- 
cierum  omnium  numero  infinitarum.  et  derent."  —  Fabroni. 
proportio  superficierum  eadem  ac  ilia  "11  n'est  aucun  cas  dans  la  geometric 


384  RATIOS  OF  SOLIDS  — THE  CYCLOID.        PART  III. 

seems  to  have  been  given  after  Ms  method  had  been  attacked 
by  Guldin  in  1640. 

13.  It  was  a  main  object  of  Cavalieri's  geometry  to  demon- 
A    lied  to    strate  the  proportions  of  different  solids.     This    is 
the  ratios      partly  done  by  Euclid,  but  generally  in  an  indirect 

lids'  manner.  A  cone,  according  to  Cavalieri,  is  com- 
posed of  an  infinite  number  of  circles  decreasing  from  the 
base  to  the  summit ;  a  cylinder,  of  an  infinite  number  of  equal 
circles.  He  seeks,  therefore,  the  ratio  of  the  sum  of  all  the 
former  to  that  of  all  the  latter.  The  method  of  summing  an 
infinite  series  of  terms  in  arithmetical  progression  was  already 
known.  The  diameters  of  the  circles  in  the  cone  decreasing 
uniformly  were  in  arithmetical  progression,  and  the  circles 
would  be  as  their  squares.  He  found,  that,  when  the  number 
of  terms  is  infinitely  great,  the  sum  of  all  the  squares  de- 
scribed on  lines  in  arithmetical  progression  is  exactly  one- 
third  of  the  greatest  square  multiplied  by  the  number  of 
terms.  Hence  the  cone  is  one-third  of  a  cylinder  of  the  same 
base  and  altitude ;  and  similar  proof  may  be  given  as  to  the 
ratios  of  other  solids. 

14.  This  bolder  geometry  was  now  very  generally  applied 
Problem  of  in  difficult  investigations.     A  proof  was  given  in  the 
the  cycloid,  celebrated   problems   relative  to  the  cycloid,  which 
served  as  a  test  of  skill  to  the  mathematicians  of  that  age. 
The  cycloid  is  the  curve  described  by  a  point  in  a  circle,  while 
it  makes  one  revolution  along  an  horizontal  base,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  carriage-wheel:    It  was  far  more  difficult  to  deter- 
mine its  area.     It  was  at  first  taken  for  the  segment  of  a  cir- 
cle.    Galileo  considered  it,  but  with  no  success.     Mersenne, 
who  was  also  unequal  to  the  problem,  suggested  it  to  a  very 
good  geometer,  Roberval,  who  after  some  years,  in  1634,  de- 
monstrated that  the  area  of  the  cycloid  is  equal  to  thrice  the 
area  of  the  generating  circle.     Mersenne  communicated  this 
discovery  to  Descartes,  who,  treating  the  matter  as  easy,  sent 
a  short  demonstration  of  his  own.     On  Roberval's  intimating 
that  he  had  been  aided  by  a  knowledge  of  the  solution,  Des- 
cartes found  out  the  tangents  of  the  curve,  and  challenged 
Roberval  and  Fermat  to  do  the  same.-    Fennat  succeeded  in 

des  indivisibles,   qu'on  ne  puisse  facile-  la  geometric ;  et  loin  de  conduire  &  1'er- 

ment    reduire    4.    la    forme  ancienne  de  reur,  cette  methode,  au  coutruire,  a  6t& 

demonstration.      Ainsi,   c'est  s'arrSter  4  utile    pour   atteinclre   4   des  verites   qui 

1'ecorce  (jue  de  chicaner  sur  le  mot  d'in-  avoicnt  echappe  jurfriu'alors  aux  efforts 

divisibles.    II  est  impropre  si  Ton  veut,  des  geometres." —  Montucla,  vol.  ii.  p.  39. 
main  U  u'eu   ru.sultc  aucuu  danger  pour 


CHAP.  Vm.  BRIGGS  — GIRARD.  335 

this ;  but  Roberval  could  not  achieve  the  problem,  in  which 
Galileo  also  and  Cavalieri  failed,  though  it  seems  to  have 
been  solved  afterwards  by  Viviani.  "Such,"  says  Montucla, 
"was  the  superiority  of  Descartes  over  all  the  geometers  of 
his  age,  that  questions  which  most  perplexed  them  cost  him 
but  an  ordinary  degree  of  attention."  In  this  problem  of  the 
tangents'  (and  it  might  not  perhaps  have  been  worth  while  to 
mention  it  otherwise  in  so  brief  a  sketch),  Descartes  made  use 
of  the  principle  introduced  by  Kepler,  considering  the  curve 
as  a  polygon  of  an  infinite  number  of  sides,  so  that  an  infinite- 
ly small  arc  is  equal  to  its  chord.  The  cycloid  has  been 
called  by  Montucla  the  Helen  of  geometers.  This  beauty  was 
at  least  the  cause  of  war,  and  produced  a  long  controversy. 
The  Italians  claim  the  original  invention  as  their  own ;  but 
Montucla  seems  to  have  vindicated  the  right  of  France  to 
every  solution  important  in  geometry.  Nor  were  the  friends 
of  Roberval  and  Fermat  disposed  to  acknowledge  so  much 
of  the  exclusive  right  of  Descartes  as  was  challenged  by 
his  disciples.  Pascal,  in  his  history  of  the  cycloid,  enters 
the  lists  on  the  side  of  RobervaL  This  was  not  published 
till  1658. 

15.  Without  dwelling  more  minutely  on  geometrical  trea- 
tises of  less  importance,  though  in  themselves  valua-  progress  of 
ble,  such  as  that  of  Gregory  St.  Vincent  in  1 647,  or  Algebra, 
the  Cyclometricus  of  Willebrod  Snell  in  1621,  we  come  to  the 
progress  of  analysis  during  this  period.     The  works  of  Vieta, 
it  may  be  observed,  were  chiefly  published  after  the   year 
1600.     They  left,  as  must  be  admitted,  not  much  in  principle 
for  the  more  splendid  generalizations  of  Harriott  and  Des- 
cartes.    It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  mere  employment   of  a 
more  perfect  notation  would  have  led  the  acute  mind  of  Vieta 
to  truths  which  seem  to  us  who  are  acquainted  with  them  but 
a  little  beyond  what  he  discovered. 

1 6.  Briggs,  in  his  Arithmetica  Logarithmica,  was  the  first 
who  clearly  showed   what   is   called   the    Binomial   Briggs; 
Theorem,  or  a  compendious  method  of  involution,  by  Qirard- 
means  of  the  necessary  order  of  co-efficients  in  the  successive 
powers  of  a  binomial  quantity.     Cardan  had  partially,  and 
Vieta  more  clearly,  seen  this ;  nor,  as  far  as  his  notation  went, 
was   it   likely  to  escape   the   profound  mind   of  the   latter. 
Albert  Girard,  a  Dutchman,  in  his  Invention   Nouvelle  en 
Algebre,  1629,  conceived  a  better  notion  of  negative  roots 

VOL.  m.  25 


386  HARRIOTT.  PART  III. 

than  his  predecessors.  Even  Vieta  had  not  paid  attention  to 
them  in  any  solution.  Girard,  however,  not  only  assigns  their 
form,  and  shows  that,  in  a  certain  class  of  cubic  equations, 
there  must  always  be  one  or  two  of  this  description,  but  uses 
this  remarkable  expression:  "A  negative  solution  means  in 
geometry  that  the  minus  recedes  as  the  plus  advances." :  It 
seems  manifest,  that,  till  some  such  idea  suggested  itself  to  the 
minds  of  analysts,  the  consideration  of  negative  roots,  though 
they  could  not  possibly  avoid  perceiving  their  existence,  would 
merely  have  confused  their  solutions.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be 
surprising  that  not  only  Cardan  and  Vieta,  but  Harriott  him- 
self, should  have  paid  little  attention  to  them. 

17.  Harriott,  the  companion  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  Vir- 
„    .          ginia*  and  the  friend  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland, 

in  whose  house  he  spent  the  latter  part  of  his  life, 
was  destined  to  make  the  last  great  discovery  in  the  pure  sci- 
ence of  algebra.  Though  he  is  mentioned  here  after  Girard, 
since  the  Artis  Analytic*  Praxis  was  not  published  till  1631, 
this  was  ten  years  after  the  author's  death.  Harriott  arrived 
at  a  complete  theoiy  of  the  genesis  of  equations,  which  Car- 
dan and  Vieta  had  but  partially  conceived.  By  bringing  all 
the  terms  on  one  side,  so  as  to  make  them  equal  to  zero,  lie 
found  out  that  every  unknown  quantity  in  an  equation  has  as 
many  values  as  the  index  of  its  powers  in  the  first  term 
denotes ;  and  that  these  values,  in  a  necessary  sequence  of 
combinations,  form  the  co-efficients  of  the  succeeding  terms 
into  which  the  decreasing  powers  of  the  unknown  quantity 
enter,  as  they  do  also,  by  their  united  product,  the  last  or 
known  term  of  the  equation.  This  discovery  facilitated  the 
solution  of  equations  by  the  necessary  composition  of  their 
terms  which  it  displayed.  It  was  evident,  for  example,  that 
each  integral  root  of  an  equation  must  be  a  factor,  and  conse- 
quently a  divisor,  of  the  last  term.2 

18.  Harriott  introduced  the  use  of  small  letters  instead  of 
capitals  in  algebra ;  he  employed  vowels  for  unknown,  conso- 
nants for  known  quantities,  and  joined  them  to  express  their 

i 

geo 

p^  112.  he  is  allowed  to  have  deserved.  Montucla 
2  Harriott's  book  is  s  thin  folio  of  a  justly  observes,  that  Harriott  very  rarely 
hundred  and  eighty  pages,  with  very  little  makes  an  equation  equal  to  zero,  by  bring- 
besides  examples;  for  his  principles  are  ing  all  the  quantities  to  one  side  of  UM 
shortly  and  obscurely  laid  down.  Who-  equation, 
ever  is  the  author  of  the  preface  to  this 


CHAP.  VIH.  DESCAETES.  387 

product.1  There  is  certainly  not  much  in  this ;  but  its  evi- 
dent convenience  renders  it  wonderful  that  it  should  have 
been  reserved  for  so  late  an  era,  Wallis,  in  his  History  of 
Algebra,  ascribes  to  Harriott  a  long  list  of  discoveries,  which 
have  been  reclaimed  for  Cardan  and  Vieta,  the  great  found- 
ers of  the  higher  algebra,  by  Cossali  and  Montucla.2  The 
latter  of  these  writers  has  been  charged,  even  by  foreigners, 
with  similar  injustice  towards  our  countryman ;  and  that  he 
has  been  provoked  by  what  he  thought  the  unfairness  of 
TVallis  to  something  like  a  depreciation  of  Harriott,  seems  as 
clear  as  that  he  has  himself  robbed  Cardan  of  part  of  his  due 
credit  in  swelling  the  account  of  Vieta's  discoveries.  From 
the  general  integrity,  however,  of  Montucla's  writings,  I  am 
much  inclined  to  acquit  him  of  any  wilful  partiality. 

19.  Harriott  had  shown  what  were  the  hidden  laws  of 
algebra,  as  the  science  of  symbolical  notation.  But  DescarteB 
one  man,  the  pride  of  France  and  wonder  of  his 
contemporaries,  was  destined  to  flash  light  upon  the  labors  of 
the  analyst,  and  to  point  out  what  those  symbols,  so  darkly 
and  painfully  traced,  and  resulting  commonly  in  irrational  or 
even  impossible  forms,  might  represent  and  explain.  The 
use  of  numbers,  or  of  letters  denoting  numbers,  for  lines  ard 
rectangles  capable  of  division  into  aliquot  parts,  had  long 
been  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked,  and  is  only  a  compendious 
abbreviation  of  geometrical  proof.  The  next  step  made  was 
the  perceiving  that  irrational  numbers,  as  they  are  called, 
represent  incommensurable  quantities ;  that  is,  if  unity  be 
taken  for  the  side  of  a  square,  the  square-root  of  two  will 
represent  its  diagonal.  Gradually,  the  application  of  nume- 
rical and  algebraical  calculation  to  the  solution  of  problems 
respecting  magnitude  became  more  frequent  and  refined.3  It 
is  certain,  however,  that  no  one  before  Descartes  had 
employed  algebraic  formulae  in  the  construction  of  curves ; 
that  is.  had  taught  the  inverse  process,  not  only  how  to  ex- 
press diagrams  by  algebra,  but  how  to  turn  algebra  into 
diagrams.  The  ancient  geometers,  he  observes,  were  scrupu- 
lous about  using  the  language  of  arithmetic  in  geometry, 

1  Oughtred.  in  his  Claris  Mathemitica,  discovered  late.    Thev  are.  however,  given 

published  in  1631.  abbreviated  the  rules  also  by  Harriott.     Wallisii  Algebra. 

of  Vieta.  though  he  still  used  capital  let-  s  These  may  be  found  in  the  article 

tere.     He  also  gave  (succinctly  the  praxis  "  Harriott "  of  the  Biographia  Britannica. 

of  algebra,   or   the   elementary   rules  we  Wallis.    however,   does   not  suppress  the 

find  in  our  common  books,  which,  though  honor  due  to  Vieta  quite  as  much  ma  « 

what  are  now  first  learned,  were,  from  intimated  by  Montucla. 

the  ciugular  course  of  algebraical  history,  *  See  nute  iu  vol.  ii.  p.  315 


388  HIS  PLAGIARISM  FROM  HARRIOTT.  PART  HI. 

which  could  only  proceed  from  their  not  perceiving  the 
relation  between  the  two ;  and  this  has  produced  a  great  deal 
of  obscurity  and  embarrassment  in  some  of  their  demonstra- 
tions.1 

20.  The   principle   which   Descartes   establishes   is,  that 

every  curve  of  those  which  are  called  geometrical 
cation  of"  has  its  fundamental  equation  expressing  the  constant 
algebra  to  relation  between  the  absciss  and  the  ordinate.  Thus 

the  rectangle  under  the  abscisses  of  a  diameter  of  the 
circle  is  equal  to  the  square  of  the  ordinate ;  and  the  other 
conic  sections,  as  well  as  higher  curves,  have  each  their 
leading  property,  which  determines  their  nature,  and  shows 
how  they  may  be  generated.  A  simple  equation  can  only  ex- 
press the  relation  of  straight  lines :  the  solutions  of  a  quadratic 
must  be  found  in  one  of  the  four  conic  sections,  and  the 
higher  powers  of  an  unknown  quantity  lead  to  curves  of  a 
superior  order.  The  beautiful  and  extensive  theory  deve- 
loped by  Descartes  in  this  short  treatise  displays  a  most 
consummate  felicity  of  genius.  That  such  a  man,  endowed 
with  faculties  so  original,  should  have  encroached  on  the  just 
rights  of  others,  is  what  we  can  only  believe  with  reluctance. 

21.  It  must,  however,  be  owned,   that,   independently  of 

the  suspicions  of  an  unacknowledged  appropriation 
plagiarism  of  what  others  had  thought  before  him,  which  unfor- 
riott  HM"  tunately  hang  over  all  the  writings  of  Descartes,  he 

has  taken  to  himself  the  whole  theory  of  Harriott 
on  the  nature  of  equations,  in  a  manner  which,  if  it  is  not  a 
remarkable  case  of  simultaneous  invention,  can  only  be  reck- 
oned a  very  unwarrantable  plagiarism.  For  not  only  he  does 
not  name  Harriott,  but  he  evidently  introduces  the  subject  as 
an  important  discovery  of  his  own,  and,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
asserts  his  originality  in  the  most  positive  language.2  Still 

1  (Euvres  de  Descartes,  v.  823.  je  le  determine  generalemen  ten  toutes 

*  "  Tant  s'en  faut  que  les  choses  que  j?ai  equations,   au  lieu  que  lui  n'en  ayant 

ecrites  puissent   etre  aisement  tirees  de  donne    que  quelques  exemples   partiru- 

A  i<  tc.   qu'au  contraire  ce  qui  est  cause  liers,  dont  il  fait  toutefois  si  grand  etat 

que  iiion  traite  est  difficile  a  entendre,  qu'il  a  voulu  conclure  son  livre  par  la,  il 

c'est  que  j'ai  tache  4  n'y  rien  mettre  que  a  montre  qu'il  ne  le  pouyoit  determiner 

ce  que  j'ai  crfl  n'avoir  point  etc  su  ni  par  en  general.     Et  ainsi  j'ai  commeiu-e  oil 

lui  ni  par  aucun  autre ;  comme  on  peut  il  avoit  achere,  ce  que  j'ai  fait  toutefoU 

voir  si  on  confere  ce  que  j'ai  ecrit  du  sans  y   penser;    car   j'ai    plus    feuillete 

noinbre  des  racines  qui  sont  en  chaque  Viete  depuis  que  j'ai  re<;u  votre  derniere 

equation,  dans  la  page  372,  qui  est  1'en-  que    je  n'arois   jamais  fait  aupanivuut, 

droit  ou  je  commence  4  douner  les  regies  1'ayant  trouve  ici  par  hasard  entre  leg 

de  mon  algebre,  avec  ce  que  Viete  en   4  mains  ij'im  il<;  me.*  amis;  et  entre  nous,  je 

ecrit  tout  a  la  fin  de  son  liTre,  De  Emen-  ne  trouve  pas  qu'il  en  ait  tint  su  que 

lUtione  J-'xjuatiouui: ;    car  on  verra  quo  je  pcutioid,  uouobstaut  qu'il  fut  fort  ha- 


CHAP.  Vm.  FERMAT.  389 

it  is  quite  possible,  that,  prepared  as  the  way  had  been  by 
Vieta,  and  gifted  as  Descartes  was  with  a  wonderfully  intui- 
tive acuteness  in  all  mathematical  reasoning,  he  may  in  this, 
as  in  other  instances,  have  divined  the  whole  theory  by  him- 
self. Montucla  extols  the  algebra  of  Descartes,  that  is,  so 
much  of  it  as  can  be  fairly  claimed  for  him  without  any  pre- 
cursor, very  highly ;  and  some  of  his  inventions  in  the  treat- 
ment of  equations  have  long  been  current  in  books  on  that 
science.  He  was  the  first  who  showed  what  were  called 
impossible  or  imaginary  roots,  though  he  never  assigns  them, 
deeming  them  no  quantities  at  all.  He  was  also,  perhaps,  the 
first  who  fully  understood  negative  roots,  though  he  still 
retains  the  appellation,  false  roots,  which  is  not  so  good  as 
Harriott's  epithet,  privative.  According  to  his  panegyrist,  he 
first  pointed  out,  that,  in  every  equation  (the  terms  being  all 
on  one  side)  which  has  no  imaginary  roots,  there  are  as  many 
changes  of  signs  as  positive  roots,  as  many  continuations  of 
them  as  negative. 

22.  The  geometer  next  in  genius  to  Descartes,  and  perhaps 
nearer  to  him  than  to  any  third,  was  Fermat,  a  man 
of  various  acquirements,  of  high  rank  in  the  Par- 
liament of  Toulouse,  and  of  a  mind  incapable  of  envy,  forgiv 
ing  of  detraction,  and  delighting  in  truth,  with  almost  too  much 
indifference  to  praise.  The  works  of  Fermat  were  not  pub- 
lished till  long  after  his  death  in  1665 ;  but  his  frequent  dis- 
cussions with  Descartes,  by  the  intervention  of  their  common 
correspondent  Mersenne,  render  this  place  more  appropriate 
for  the  introduction  of  his  name.  In  these  controversies,  Des- 
cartes never  behaved  to  Fermat  with  the  respect  due  to  his 
talents :  in  fact,  no  one  was  ever  more  jealous  of  his  own  pre- 
eminence, or  more  unwilling  to  acknowledge  the  claims  of 
those  who  scrupled  to  follow  him  implicitly,  and  who  might  in 
any  manner  be  thought  rivals  of  his  fame.  Yet  it  is  this 
unhappy  temper  of  Descartes  which  ought  to  render  us  more 

bile."  This  is  in  a  letter  to  Mersenne  in  to  Descartes  in  1649,  plainly  intimates  to 
1637.  (Euvres  de  Descartes,  vol.  vi.  p.  300.  him  that  he  has  only  copied  Harriott  as 
The  charge  of  plagiarism  from  Harriott  to  the  nature  of  equations.  (Euvres  de 
was  Drought  against  Descartes  in  his  life-  Descartes,  vol.  x.  p.  373.  To  this  accusa- 
time :  lloberral,  when  an  English  gentle-  tion  Descartes  made  no  reply.  See  Bio- 
man  showed  him  the  Artis  Analyticae  graphia  Britannica,  art. "  Harriott."  The 
Praxis,  exclaimed  eagerly,  "  H  1'a  vu  !  il  Biographic  Universelle  unfairly  suppresses 
1'a  vu  !  "  It  is  also  a  very  suspicious  cir-  all  mention  of  this,  and  labors  to  depre- 
cumstance,  if  true,  as  it  appears  to  be,  ciate  Harriott. 

that  Descartes  was  in  England  the  year  See  Leibnitz's  catalogue  of  the  supposed 

(1631)   that   Harriott's   work    appeared,  -thefts  of  Descartes  in  yol.  ill.  p.  100  of  tab 

Carcavi,  a  friend  of  Kobenal,  in  a  letter  work. 


890  ASTRONOMY  — KEPLER.  PART  m. 

slow  to  credit  the  suspicions  of  his  designed  plagiarism  from 
the  discoveries  of  others ;  since  this,  combined  with  his  un- 
willingness to  acknowledge  their  merits,  and  affected  ignorance 
of  their  writings,  would  form  a  character  we  should  not  read- 
ily ascribe  to  a  man  of  great  genius,  and  whose  own  writings 
give  many  apparent  indications  of  sincerity  and  virtue.  But, 
in  fact,  there  was  in  this  age  a  great  probability  of  simultane- 
ous invention  in  science,  from  developing  principles  that  had 
been  partially  brought  to  light.  Thus  Roberval  discovered 
the  same  method  of  indivisibles  as  Cavalieri,  and  Descartes 
must  equally  have  been  led  to  his  theory  of  tangents  by  that 
of  Kepler.  Fermat  also,  who  was  in  possession  of  his  prin- 
cipal discoveries  before  the  geometry  of  Descartes  saw  the 
light,  derived  from  Kepler  his  own  celebrated  method,  de 
maximis  et  minimis  ;  a  method  of  discovering  the  greatest  or 
least  value  of  a  variable  quantity,  such  as  the  ordinate  of  a 
curve.  It  depends  on  the  same  principle  as  that  of  Kepler. 
From  this  he  deduced  a  rule  for  drawing  tangents  to  curves 
different  from  that  of  Descartes.  This  led  to  a  controversy 
between  the  two  geometers,  carried  on  by  Descartes,  who  yet 
is  deemed  to  have  been  in  the  wrong,  with  his  usual  quick- 
ness of  resentment.  Several  other  discoveries,  both  in  pure 
algebra  and  geometry,  illustrate  the  name  of  Fermat.1 

23.  The  new  geometry  of  Descartes  was  not  received  with 
Algebraic     the  universal  admiration  it  deserved.     Besides  its 
noTsuccess-  conciseness,  and  the  inroad  it  made  on  old  prejudices 
fui  at  first,   as  to  geometrical  methods,  the  general  boldness  of 
the  author's  speculations  in  physical  and  metaphysical  philo- 
sophy, as  well  as  his  indiscreet  temper,  alienated  many  who 
ought  to  have  appreciated  it ;  and  it  was  in  his  own  country, 
where  he  had  ceased  to  reside,  that  Descartes  had  the  fewest 
admirers.     Roberval  made  some  objections  to  his  rival's  alge- 
bra, but  with  little  success.     A  commentary  on  the  treatise  of 
Descartes  by  Schooten,  professor  of  geometry  at  Leyden,  first 
appeared  in  1649. 

24.  Among  those  who  devoted  themselves  ardently  and 
Astronomy:  successfully  to  astronomical  observations  at  the  end 
Kepler.       of  ^he  sixteenth  century,  was  John  Kepler,  a  native 
of  Wirtemburg,  who  had  already  shown  that  he  was  likely  to 
inherit  the  mantle  of  Tycho  Brahe.      He  published  some 

1  A  good  article  on  Fermat  by  M  Maurice  will  be  found  in  the  Biographic  UnV 
verselle. 


CHAP.  Yin.  THE  THREE  LAWS  OF  KEPLER.  391 

astronomical  treatises  of  comparatively  small  importance  in 
the  first  years  of  the  present  period;  but  in  1609  he  made 
an  epoch  in  tlxat  science  by  Ms  Astronornia  Nova  alTtoto-yrrrbc, 
or  Commentaries  on  the  Planet  Mars.  It  had  been  always 
assumed,  that  the  heavenly  bodies  revolve  in  circular  orbits 
round  their  centre,  whether  this  were  taken  to  be  the  sun  or 
the  earth.  There  was,  however,  an  apparent  eccentricity 
or  deviation  from  this  circular  motion,  which  it  had  been  very 
difficult  to  explain;  and,  for  this,  Ptolemy  had  devised  his 
complex  system  of  epicycles.  No  planet  showed  more  of  this 
eccentricity  than  Mars ;  and  it  was  to  Mars  that  Kepler 
turned  his  attention.  After  many  laborious  researches,  he 
was  brought  by  degrees  to  the  great  discovery,  that  the  mo- 
tion of  the  planets,  among  which,  having  adopted  the  Coper- 
nican  system,  he  reckoned  the  earth,  is  not  performed  in 
circular  but  in  elliptical  orbits,  the  sun  not  occupying  the 
centre,  but  one  of  the  foci  of  the  curve ;  and,  secondly,  that 
it  is  performed  with  such  a  varying  velocity,  that  the  areas 
described  by  the  radius-vector,  or  line  which  joins  this  focus 
to  the  revolving  planet,  are  always  proportional  to  the  times. 
A  planet,  therefore,  moves  less  rapidly  as  it  becomes  more 
distant  from  the  sun.  These  are  the  first  and  second  of  the 
three  great  laws  of  Kepler.  The  third  was  not  discovered 
by  him  till  some  years  afterwards.  He  tells  us  himself,  that 
on  the  8th  of  May,  1618,  after  long  toil  in  investigating  the 
proportion  of  the  periodic  times  of  the  planetary  movements 
to  their  orbits,  an  idea  struck  his  mind,  which,  chancing  to 
make  a  mistake  in  the  calculation,  he  soon  rejected ;  but,  a 
week  after,  returning  to  the  subject,  he  entirely  established 
his  grand  discovery,  that  the  squares  of  the  times  of  revolu- 
tion are  as  the  cubes  of  the  mean  distances  of  the  planets. 
This  was  first  made  known  to  the  world  in  his  Mysterium 
Cosmographicum,  published  in  1619  ;  a  work  mingled  up  with 
many  strange  effusions  of  a  mind  far  more  eccentric  than  any 
of  the  planets  with  which  it  was  engaged.  In  the  Epitome 
Astronomke  Copernicanae,  printed  the  same  year,  he  endea- 
vors to  deduce  this  law  from  his  theory  of  centrifugal  forces. 
He  had  no  small  insight  into  the  principles  of  universal  gravi- 
tation, as  an  attribute  of  matter;  but  several  of  his  assump- 
tions as  to  the  laws  of  motion  are  not  consonant  to  truth. 
There  seems,  indeed,  to  have  been  a  considerable  degree  of 
good  fortune  in  the  discoveries  of  Kepler ;  yet  this  may  be 


392  GALILEO  — JUPITER'S  SATELLITES.  PART  m. 

deemed  the  reward  of  his  indefatigable  laboriousness,  and  of 
the  ingenuousness  with  which  he  renounced  any  hypothesis 
that  he  could  not  reconcile  witL  his  advancing  knowledge  of 
the  phenomena. 

25.  The  appearance  of  three  comets  in  1618  called  once 
Conjectures  more   the   astronomers   of  Europe  to  speculate  on 
«s  to          the  nature  of  those  anomalous  bodies.     They  still 

'e  '  passed  for  harbingers  of  worldly  catastrophes ;  and 
those  who  feared  them  least  could  not  interpret  their  appa- 
rent irregularity.  Galileo,  though  Tycho  Brahe  had  formed 
a  juster  notion,  unfortunately  took  them  for  atmospheric  mete- 
ors. Kepler,  though  he  brought  them  from  the  far  regions  of 
epace,  did  not  suspect  the  nature  of  their  orbits,  and  thought 
that,  moving  in  straight  lines,  they  were  finally  dispersed,  and 
came  to  nothing.  But  a  Jesuit,  Grassi,  in  a  treatise,  De  Tri- 
bus  Cometis,  Rome,  1619,  had  the  honor  of  explaining  what 
had  baffled  Galileo,  and  first  held  them  to  be  planets  moving 
in  vast  ellipses  round  the  sun.1 

26.  But,  long  before  this  time,  the  name  of  Galileo  had 

become  immortal  by  discoveries,  which,  though  they 

Galileo's  ,,          ,    .    ,      ,       J 

discovery  of  would  certainly  have  soon  been  made  by  some  other, 
Jltemtes  Perhaps  far  inferior,  observer,  were  happily  reserved 
for  the  most  philosophical  genius  of  the  age.  Galileo 
assures  us,  that,  having  heard  of  the  invention  of  an  instru- 
ment in  Holland  which  enlarged  the  size  of  distant  objects, 
but  knowing  nothing  of  its  construction,  he  began  to  study  the 
theory  of  refractions,  till  he  found  by  experiment,  that,  by 
means  of  a  convex  and  concave  glass  in  a  tube,  he  could  mag- 
nify an  object  threefold.  He  was  thus  encouraged  to  make 
another  which  magnified  thirty  times ;  and  this  he  exhibited 
in  the  autumn  of  1609  to  the  inhabitants  of  Venice.  Having 
made  a  present  of  his  first  telescope  to  the  senate,  who 
rewarded  him  with  a  pension,  he  soon  constructed  another; 
and  in  one  of  the  first  nights  of  January,  1610,  directing  it 
towards  the  moon,  was  astonished  to  see  her  surface  and  edges 
covered  with  inequalities.  These  he  considered  to  be  moun- 
ains,  and  judged  by  a  sort  of  measurement  that  some  of  them 
must  exceed  those  of  the  earth.  His  next  observation  was  of 
the  milky  way ;  and  this  he  found  to  derive  its  nebulous  lus- 
tre from  myriads  of  stars  not  distinguishable,  through  their 
remoteness,  by  the  unassisted  sight  of  man.  The  nebulae  in 

1  The  Biogr.  Univ.,  art.  "  Grassi,"  ascribes  this  opinion  to  Tycho. 


CHAP.  VIE.      OTHER  DISCOVERIES  BY  GALILEO.  393 

the  constellation  Orion  he  perceived  to  be  of  the  same  charac- 
ter. Before  his  delight  at  these  discoveries  could  have  sub- 
sided, he  turned  his  telescope  to  Jupiter,  and  was  surprised  to 
remark  three  small  stars,  which,  in  a  second  night's  observa- 
tion, had  changed  their  places.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks, 
he  was  able  to  determine  by  their  revolutions,  which  are  very- 
rapid,  that  these  are  secondary  planets,  the  moons  or  satellites 
of  Jupiter;  and  he  had  added  a  fourth  to  their  number. 
These  marvellous  revelations  of  nature  he  hastened  to  an 
nounce  in  a  work,  aptly  entitled  Sidereus  Nuncius,  published 
in  March,  1610.  In  an  age  when  the  fascinating  science  of 
astronomy  had  already  so  much  excited  the  minds  of  philoso- 
phers, it  may  be  guessed  with  what  eagerness  this  intelligence 
from  the  heavens  was  circulated.  A  few,  as  usual,  through 
envy  or  prejudice,  affected  to  contemn  it.  But  wisdom  was 
justified  of  her  children.  Kepler,  in  his  Narratio  de  Obser- 
vatis  a  se  Quatuor  Jovis  Satellitibus,  1610,  confirmed  the 
discoveries  of  Galileo.  Peiresc,  an  inferior  name  no  doubt, 
but  deserving  of  every  praise  for  his  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
knowledge,  having  with  difficulty  procured  a  good  telescope, 
saw  the  four  satellites  in  November,  1610;  and  is  said  by 
Gassendi  to  have  conceived  at  that  time  the  ingenious  idea, 
that  their  occupations  might  be  used  to  ascertain  the  longi- 
tude.1 

27.  This  is  the  greatest  and  most  important  of  the  discove- 
ries of  Galileo.     But  several  others  were  of  the   other(lis_ 
deepest  interest.     He  found  that  the  planet  Venus   covenea  by 
had  phases,  that  is,  periodical  differences  of  apparent  him' 
form,  like  the  moon ;  and  that  these  are  exactly  such  as  would 
be  produced  by  the  variable  reflection  of  the  sun's  light  on 
the  Copernican  hypothesis ;  ascribing  also  the  faint  light  on 
that  part  of  the  moon  which  does  not  receive  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  to  the  reflection  from  the  earth,  called  by  some  late 
writers  earth-shine ;  which,  though  it  had  been  suggested  by 
Mrestlin,  and  before  him  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  was  not 
generally   received   among    astronomers.      Another   striking 
phenomenon,  though  he  did  not  see  the  means  of  explaining 
it,  was  the  triple  appearance  of  Saturn,  as  if  smaller  stars 
were  conjoined,  as  it  were,  like  wings  to  the  planet.     This,  of 
course,  was  the  ring. 

28.  Meantime   the   new  auxiliary  of  vision  which  had 

1  Gaasendi,  Vita  PeirescU,  p.  77. 


894  COPEENICAN  SYSTEM.  PAET  El. 

revealed  so  many  wonders  could  not  lie  unemployed  in  the 
8  ts  of  th  nands  °f  others.  A  publication  by  John  Fabricius 
Bimdiscov-  at  Wittenberg,  in  July,  1611,  De  Maculis  in  Sole 
ered'  visis,  announced  a  phenomenon  in  contradiction  of 

common  prejudice.  The  sun  had  passed  for  a  body  of  liquid 
flame,  or,  if  thought  solid,  still  in  a  state  of  perfect  ignition. 
Kepler  had  some  years  before  observed  a  spot,  which  he  un- 
luckily mistook  for  the  orb  of  Mercury  in  its  passage  over 
the  solar  orb.  Fabricius  was  not  permitted  to  claim  this 
discovery  as  his  own.  Scheiner,  a  Jesuit,  professor  of 
mathematics  at  Ingolstadt,  asserts,  in  a  letter  dated  12th 
of  November,  1611,  that  he  first  saw  the  spots  in  the  month  of 
March  in  that  year ;  but  he  seems  to  have  paid  little  attention 
to  them  before  that  of  October.  Both  Fabricius,  however, 
and  Scheiner,  may  be  put  out  of  the  question.  We  have 
evidence  that  Harriott  observed  the  spots  on  the  sun  as  early 
as  December  8th,  1610.1  The  motion  of  the  spots  suggested 
the  revolution  of  the  sun  round  its  axis  completed  in  twenty- 
four  days,  as  it  is  now  determined ;  and  their  frequent 
alterations  of  form  as  well  as  occasional  disappearance  could 
only  be  explained  by  the  hypothesis  of  a  luminous  atmosphere 
in  commotion,  a  sea  of  flame,  revealing  at  intervals  the  dark 
central  mass  of  the  sun's  body  which  it  envelops. 

29.  Though  it  cannot  be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  discoveries 
Copemican  °^  Galileo  would  fully  prove  the  Copernican  system 
system  held  of  the  world  to  those  who  were  already  insensible  to 
Ueo'  reasoning  from  its  sufficiency  to  explain  the  phe- 
nomena, and  from  the  analogies  of  nature,  they  served  to 
familiarize  the  mind  to  it,  and  to  break  down  the  strong  ram- 
part of  prejudice  which  stood  in  its  way.  For  eighty  years, 
it  has  been  said,  this  theory  of  the  earth's  motion  had  been 
maintained  without  censure ;  and  it  could  only  be  the  greater 
boldness  of  Galileo  in  its  assertion  which  drew  down  upon 
him  the  notice  of  the  church.  But,  in  these  eighty  years 
since  the  publication  of  the  treatise  of  Copernicus,  his  prose- 
lytes had  been  surprisingly  few.  They  were  now  becoming 
more  numerous :  several  had  written  on  that  side ;  and 
Galileo  had  begun  to  form  a  school  of  Copernicans  who  were 
spreading  over  Italy.  The  Lincean  society,  one  of  the  most 
useful  and  renowned  of  Italian  academies,  founded  at  Rome 

*  [Montucla,  ii.  106 ;  Button's  Dictionary,  art.  "  Harriott."    The  claim  of  Harrlo'l 
bad  been  established  by  Zach,  in  Berlin  Transactions  for  1788.  — 1842.] 


PEESECUTIOX  OF  GALILEO.  395 

by  Frederic  Cesi,  a  young  man  of  noble  birth,  in  1603,  had 
as  a  fundamental  law  to  apply  themselves  to  natural  philoso- 
phy ;  and  it  was  impossible  that  so  attractive  and  rational  a 
system  as  that  of  Copernicus  could  fail  of  pleasing  an  acute 
and  ingenious  nation  strongly  bent  upon  science.  The  church, 
however,  had  taken  alarm :  the  motion  of  the  earth  was  con- 
ceived to  be  as  repugnant  to  Scripture  as  the  existence  of 
antipodes  had  once  been  reckoned;  and,  in  1616,  Galileo, 
though  respected,  and  in  favor  with  the  court  of  Eome,  was 
compelled  to  promise  that  he  would  not  maintain  that  doctrine 
in  any  manner.  Some  letters  that  he  had  published  on  the 
subject  were  put,  with  the  treatise  of  Copernicus  and  other 
works,  into  the  Index  Expurgatorius,  where,  I  believe,  they 
still  remain.1 

30.  He  seems,  notwithstanding  this,  to  have  flattered  him 
self,  that,  after  several  years  had  elapsed,  he  might  ^  dia_ 
elude  the  letter  of  this  prohibition  by  throwing  the  logues,  and 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  Ptolemaic  and  Copernican  ^^ 
systems  into  the  form  of  a  dialogue.  This  was  published  in 
1632;  and  he  might,  from  various  circumstances,  not  unrea- 
sonably hope  for  impunity.  But  his  expectations  were 
deceived.  It  is  well  known  that  he  was  compelled  by  the 
Inquisition  at  Eome,  into  whose  hands  he  fell,  to  retract  in 
the  most  solemn  and  explicit  manner  the  propositions  he  had 
so  well  proved,  and  which  he  must  have  still  believed.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  give  a  circumstantial  account,  especially  as  it 
has  been  so  well  done  in  the  Life  of  Galileo  by  the  late  Mr. 
Drinkwater  Bethune.  The  Papal  court  meant  to  humiliate 
Galileo,  and  through  him  to  strike  an  increasing  class  of  phi- 
losophers with  shame  and  terror ;  but  not  otherwise  to  punish 
one  of  whom  even  the  inquisitors  must,  as  Italians,  have 
been  proud  :  his  confinement,  though  Monrucla  says  it  lasted 
for  a  year,  was  very  short.  He  continued,  nevertheless, 
under  some  restraint  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and,  though  he 

1  Drinkwater  Bethune's  Life  of  Galileo ;  consumpsissent  aetatem,  aut  subtilins  aut 

Fabroni,  Vitse  Italorum,  vol.  i.    The  for-  verius  ant  etiam  accuratius  explicatum 

mer  seems  to  be  mistaken  in  supposing  expectari  potuerit." —  p.  118.    It  seems, 

that  Galileo  did  not  endeavor  to  prove  in  fact,  to  have  been  this  over-desire  to 

his  system  compatible  with  Scripture.    In  prove  his  theory  orthodox,  which  incensea 

a  letter  to  Christina,  the  Grand  Duchess  the  church  against  it.    See  an  extraordi- 

of  Tuscany,  the  author  (Brenaa)  of  the  nary  article  on  this  subject  in  the  eighth 

Life  in  Fabroni's  work  tells  us,  he  argued  number   of   the    Dublin    Review  (1838). 

very  elaborately  for  that  purpose.    "  In  ea  Many  will  tolerate  propositions  inconsisi- 

videlicet  epistoia  philosophns  noster  ita  ent  with  orthodoxy,  when  they  are  not 

disserit.   ut   nihil  etiam    ab   hominibus,  brought  into  immediate  juxtaposition  with 

qui  orunem  in  sacrarum  literarum  studio  it. 


896  PROGRESS  OF  COPERNICAN  SYSTEM.        PAST  IIL 

lived  at  his  own  villa  near  Florence,  was  not  permitted  to 
enter  the  city.1 

31.  The  church  was  not  mistaken  in  supposing  that  she 
Descartes      should  intimidate  the  Copernicans,  but  very  much 
alarmed  by    so  in  expecting  to  suppress  the  theory.     Descartes 

was  so  astonished  at  hearing  of  the  sentence  on 
Galileo,  that  he  was  almost  disposed  to  bum  his  papers,  or  at 
least  to  let  no  one  see  them.  "  I  cannot  collect,"  he  says, 
"  that  he  who  is  an  Italian,  and  a  friend  of  the  pope,  as  I 
understand,  has  been  criminated  on  any  other  account  than 
for  having  attempted  to  establish  the  motion  of  the  earth.  I 
know  that  this  opinion  was  formerly  censured  by  some  cardi- 
nals ;  but  I  thought  I  had  since  heard  that  no  objection  was 
now  made  to  its  being  publicly  taught  even  at  Rome."2  It 
seems  not  at  all  unlikely  that  Descartes  was  induced,  on  this 
account,  to  pretend  a  greater  degree  of  difference  from  Co- 
pernicus than  he  really  felt,  and  even  to  deny,  in  a  certain 
sense  of  his  own,  the  obnoxious  tenet  of  the  earth's  motion.3 
He  was  not  without  danger  of  a  sentence  against  truth  nearer 
at  hand;  Cardinal  Richelieu  having  had  the  intention  of 
procuring  a  decree  of  the  Sorbonne  to  the  same  effect,  which, 
through  the  good  sense  of  some  of  that  society,  fell  to  the 
ground.4 

32.  The  progress,  hoAvever,  of  the  Copernican  theory  in 
Process  of    Europe,  if  it  may  not  actually  be  dated  from  its  con- 
copernican   dcmnation  at  Rome,  was  certainly  not  at  all  slower 
system.        after  that  time.     Gassendi  rather  cautiously  took 
that  side ;  the  Cartesians  brought  a  powerful  re-enforcement ; 
Bouillaud   and  several   other   astronomers  of  note   avowed 
themselves  favorable  to  a  doctrine,  which,  though  in  Italy  it 
lay  under  the  ban  of  the  Papal  power,  was  readily  saved  on 
this  side  of  the  Alps  by  some  of  the  salutary  distinctions  long 
in  use  to  evade  that  authority.6     But'  in  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  long  afterwards,  there  were  mathe- 

1  Fabroni.    His  Life  is  written  in  good  The  very  idea  shows  that  he  must  have 

Latin,   with  knowledge  and  spirit,  more  deeply  felt  the  restraint  imposed   upon 

than  Tiraboschi  has  ventured  bo  display.  him  in  his  country.    Epist.   Grot.,  407, 

It  appears  from  some  of  Qrotius's  Epis-  446. 

ties,  that  Galileo  had  thought*,  about  1686,  2  Vol.  vi.  p.  239:  he  says  here  of  the 

of  seeking  the  protection  of  the  United  motion  of  the  earth,  "  Je  confosse  que  g'il 

Provinces.     But,  on  account  of  his  ad-  est  faux,  tons  les  fondemcns  de  ma  phi* 

vanced  age,  he  gave   this  up :    "  Fessus  losophie  le  sout  aussi." 

penio   constituit    manere    in    quibus  est  3  Vol.  vi.  p.  60. 

locis,  et  potius  quae  ibi  sunt  incommoda  *  Montucla,  ii.  297. 

perpeti,  quam  malaesetati  uiigrandi  onus,  *  Id.,  ii.  60. 
et   novas  parandi   amicitias   uuponere." 


CHAP.  VID        DENIAL  OF  GENERAL  GRAVITATION.  397 

maticians,  of  no  small  reputation,  who  struggled  stanchly  for 
the  immobility  of  the  earth ;  and,  except  so  far  as  Cartesian 
theories  might  have  come  in  vogue,  we  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  any  persons  unacquainted  with  astronomy,  either 
in  this  country  or  on  the  Continent,  had  embraced  the  system 
of  Copernicus.  Hume  has  censured  Bacon  for  rejecting  it ; 
but,  if  Bacon  had  not  done  so,  he  would  have  anticipated  the 
rest  of  his  countrymen  by  a  full  quarter  of  a  century. 

33.  Descartes,  in  his  new  theory  of  the  solar  system,  aa- 
pired  to  explain  the  secret  springs  of  nature,  while  j^,^^ 
Kepler  and  Galileo  had  merely  showed  their  effects,  denies  ge- 
By  what  force  the  heavenly  bodies  were  impelled,  ^alT" 
by  what  law  they  were  guided,  was  certainly  a  very 
different  question  from  that  of  the  orbit  they  described  or  the 
period  of  their  revolution.     Kepler  had  evidently  some  notion 
of  that  universally  mutual  gravitation  which  Hooke  saw  more 
clearly,  and  Newton  established  on  the  basis  of  his  geometry.1 
But  Descartes  rejected  this  with'  contempt.     "  For,"  he  says, 
"  to  conceive  this,  we  must  not  only  suppose  that  every  portion 
of  matter   in  the   universe   is   animated,   and   animated  by 
several  different  souls  which  do  not  obstruct  one  another,  but 
that  those  souls  are  intelligent,  and  even  divine ;  that  they 
may  know  what  is  going  on  in  the  most  remote  places  without 
any  messenger  to  give  them  notice,  and  that  they  may  exert 
their  powers  there." 2     Kepler,  who  took  the  world  for  a  single 
animal,  a  leviathan  that  roared  in  caverns  and  breathed  in  the 
ocean-tides,  might  have  found  it  difficult  to  answer  this,  which 
would  have  seemed  no  objection  at  all  to  Campanella.     If 
Descartes  himself  had  been  more  patient  towards  opinions 
which  he  had  not  formed  in  his  own  mind,  that  constant  divine 
agency,  to  which  he  was,  on  other  occasions,  apt  to  resort, 
could  not  but  have  suggested  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the 
gravity  of  matter,  without  endowing  it  with  self-agency.     He 
had,  however,  fallen  upon  a  complicated  and  original  scheme, 
the  most  celebrated,  perhaps,  though  not  the  most  admirable, 
of  the  novelties  which  Descartes  brought  into  philosophy. 

34.  In  a  letter  to  Mersenne,  Jan.  9th,  1639,  he  shortly 
states  that  notion  of  the  material  universe  wluch  he  afterwards 

1    'If  the  earth  and  moon,"  he  says,  this  attraction  of  the  moon,  he  accounti 

"  were  not  retained  in  their  orbits,  they  for  tides.     He  compares  the  attraction  of 

•would  fall  one  on  another  ;  the  inoon  niov-  the  planet  towards   the  sun   to  that  of 

ing  about  §3  of  the  way,  the  earth  the  heavy  bodies  towards  the  eartli. 

rest,  supposing  them  equally  dense."    By  2  Vol.  is.  p.  500. 


398  CARTESIAN  THEORY  OF  THE  WORLD.       PART  HI. 

published  in  the  Principia  Philosophise.  "  I  will  tell  you,"  he 
Cartesian  savs>  "that  I  conceive,  or  rather  I  can  demonstrate, 
theory  of  that,  besides  the  matter  which  composes  terrestrial 
bodies,  there  are  two  other  kinds :  one  very  subtle, 
of  which  the  parts  are  round,  or  nearly  round,  like  grains  of 
sand,  and  this  not  only  occupies  the  pores  of  terrestrial  bodies, 
but  constitutes  the  substance  of  all  the  heavens ;  the  other 
incomparably  more  subtle,  the  parts  of  which  are  so  small, 
and  move  with  such  velocity,  that  they  have  no  determinate 
figure,  but  readily  take  at  every  instant  that  which  is  required 
to  fill  all  the  little  intervals  which  the  other  does  not  occupy." * 
To  this  hypothesis  of  a  double  ether  he  was  driven  by  his 
aversion  to  admit  any  vacuum  in  nature  ;  the  rotundity  of  the 
former  corpuscles  having  been  produced,  as  he  fancied,  by 
their  continual  circular  motions,  which  had  rubbed  off  their 
angles.  This  seems  at  present  rather  a  clumsy  hypothesis  ; 
but  it  is  literally  that  which  Descartes  presented  to  the  world. 

35.  After  having  thus  filled  the  universe  with  different  sorts 
of  matter,  he  supposes  that  the  subtler  particles,  formed  by 
the  perpetual  rubbing-off  of  the  angles  of  the  larger  in  their 
progress  towards  sphericity,  increased  by  degrees  till  there 
was  a  superfluity  that  was  not  required  to  fill  up  the  intervals ; 
and  this,  flowing  towards  the  centre  of  the  system,  became  the 
sun,  a  very  subtle  and  liquid  body ;  while  in  like  manner 
the  fixed  stars  were  formed  in  other  systems.     Round  these 
centres  the  whole  mass  is  whirled  in  a  number  of  distinct 
vortices,  each  of  which  carries  along  with  it  a  planet.     The 
centrifugal  motion  impels  every  particle  in  these  vortices  at 
each  instant  to  fly  off"  from  the  sun  in  a  straight  line ;  but  it 
is  retained   by  the   pressure  of  those  which   have   already 
escaped  and  form  a  denser  sphere  beyond  it.     Light  is  no 
more  than  the  effect  of  particles  seeking  to  escape  from  the 
centre,  and  pressing  one  on  another,  though  perhaps  without 
actual   motion.2     The  planetary  vortices   contain    sometimes 
smaller  vortices,  in  which  the  satellites  are  whirled  round  their 
principal. 

36.  Such,  in  a  few  words,  is  the  famous  Ca/tesian  theory, 
wliich,  fallen  in  esteem  as  it  now  is,  stood  its  ground  on  the 

1  Vol.  viii.  p.  73.  etre    plus    aisement    entendu,  FC  devoit 

2  "  J'ai  souvent  avert!  que  par  la  lumi-  rapporter  4  cette  propension  ;  d?ou  il  t-st 
fere  je  n'entendois  pas  tant  le  mouvement  manifesto  que  selon  moi  1'on  ne  doit  en- 
que  cette  inclination  ou  propension  que  tendre  autre  chose  par  les  couleurs  que 
ces    petits    corps    ont  a  we  niouvoir,   et  les  differentes  varietes  qui  arrivent  en  cea 
que  co  que  jo  Uirois  du  mouveinent,  pour  propulsions." —  Vol.  vii.  p.  I'M 


CHAP.  Vm.  CAETESIAX  THEORY.  399 


continent  of  Europe  for  nearly  a  century,  till  the  simplicity 
of  the  Newtonian  system,  and,  above  all,  its  conformity  to  the 
reality  of  things,  gained  an  undisputed  predominance.  Be- 
sides the  arbitrary  suppositions  of  Descartes,  and  the  various 
objections  that  were  raised  against  the  absolute  plenum  of  space 
and  other  parts  of  his  theory,  it  has  been  urged  that  his  vor- 
tices are  not  reconcilable,  according  to  the  laws  of  motion  in 
fluids,  with  the  relation,  ascertained  by  Kepler,  between  the 
periods  and  distances  of  the  planets  ;  nor  does  it  appear  why 
the  sun  should  be  in  the  focus,  rather  than  in  the  centre  of 
their  orbits.  Yet  within  a  few  years  it  has  seemed  not  im- 
possible that  a  part  of  his  bold  conjectures  will  enter  once 
more  with  soberer  steps  into  the  schools  of  philosophy.  His 
doctrine  as  to  the  nature  of  light,  improved  as  it  was  by 
Huygcns.  is  daily  gaining  ground  over  that  of  Newton  ;  that 
of  a  subtle  ether  pervading  space,  which  in  fact  is  nearly  the 
same  thing,  is  becoming  a  favorite  speculation,  if  we  are  not 
yet  to  call  it  an  established  truth;  and  the  affirmative  of  a 
problem  which  an  eminent  writer  has  started,  whether  this 
ether  has  a  vorticose  motion  round  the  sun,  would  not  leave 
us  very  far  from  the  philosophy  which  it  has  been  so  long  our 
custom  to  turn  into  ridicule. 

37.  The  passage  of  Mercury  over  the  sun  was  witnessed  by 
Gassendi   in   1631.      This   phenomenon,  though   it  Transits  of 
excited  great  interest  in  that  age,  from  its  havin^  Mercury 

,  °.        ,  ,  ,,        .  ,  2    and  Venus 

been  previously  announced,  so  as  to  furnish  a  test  of 
astronomical  accuracy,  recurs  too  frequently  to  be  now  con- 
sidered as  of  high  importance.  The  transit  of  Venus  is  much 
more  rare.  It  occurred  on  Dec.  4,  1639,  and  was  then  only 
seen  by  Horrox,  a  young  Englishman  of  extraordinary  mathe- 
matical genius.  There  is  reason  to  ascribe  an  invention  of 
great  importance,  though  not  perhaps  of  extreme  difficulty,  — 
that  of  the  micrometer,  —  to  Horrox. 

38.  The  satellites  of  Jupiter  and  the  phases  of  Venus  are 
not  so  glorious  in  the  scutcheon  of  Galileo  as  his  dis-  Laws  of 
covery  of  the  true  principles  of  mechanics.     These,   mer:hani<:a 
as  we  have  seen  in  the  preceding  volume,  were  very  imper- 
fectly known  till  he  appeared  ;  nor  had  the  additions  to  that 
science  since  the  time  of  Archimedes  been  important.     The 
treatise  of  Galileo,  Delia  Scienza  Mecanica,  has  been  said,  I 
know  not  on  what  authority,  to  have  been  written  in  1592. 
It  was  not  published,  however,  till  1634,  and  then  only  *»  a 


400  GALILEO.  PAKT  111. 

French  translation  by  Mersenne ;  the  original  not  appearing 
till  1649.  This  is  chiefly  confined  to  statics,  or  the  doctrine  of 
equilibrium:  it  was  in  his  dialogues  on  motion,  Delia  Nuova 
Scienza,  published  in  1638,  that  he  developed  his  great  prin- 
statics  of  ciples  of  the  science  of  dynamics,  the  moving  forces 
GaUieo.  o£  i)O(jieg.  Galileo  was  induced  to  write  his  treatise 
on  mechanics,  as  he  tells  us,  in  consequence  of  the  fruitless 
attempts  he  witnessed  in  engineers  to  raise  weights  by  a  small 
force,  "  as  if  with  their  machines  they  could  cheat  nature, 
whose  instinct  as  it  were  by  fundamental  law  is,  that  no  resist- 
ance can  be  overcome  except  by  a  superior  force."  But  as 
one  man  may  raise  a  weight  to  the  height  of  a  foot  by  divid- 
ing it  into  equal  portions,  commensurate  to  his  power,  which 
many  men  could  not  raise  at  once ;  so  a  weight,  which  raises 
another  greater  than  itself,  may  be  considered  as  doing  so  by 
successive  instalments  of  force,  during  each  of  which  it  tra- 
verses as  much  space  as  a  corresponding  portion  of  the  larger 
weight.  Hence  the  velocity,  of  which  space  uniformly  tra- 
versed in  a  given  time  is  the  measure,  is  inversely  as  the 
masses  of  the  weights ;  and  thus  the  equilibrium  of  the  straight 
lever  is  maintained,  when  the  weights  are  inversely  as  their 
distance  from  the  fulcrum.  As  this  equilibrium  of  unequal 
weights  depends  on  the  velocities  they  would  have  if  set  in 
motion,  its  law  has  been  called  the  principle  of  virtual  velo- 
cities. No  theorem  has  been  of  more  important  utility  to 
mankind.  It  is  one  of  those  great  truths  of  science,  which, 
combating  and  conquering  enemies  from  opposite  quarters,  — 
prejudice  and  empiricism, — justify  the  name  of  philosophy 
against  both  classes.  The  waste  of  labor  and  expense  in 
machinery  would  have  been  incalculably  greater  in  modern 
times,  could  we  imagine  this  law  of  nature  not  to  have  been 
discovered ;  and,  as  their  misapplication  prevents  their  em- 
ployment in  a  proper  direction,  we  owe,  in  fact,  to  Galileo  the 
immense  effect  which  a  right  application  of  it  has  produced. 
It  is  possible  that  Galileo  was  ignorant  of  the  demonstration 
given  by  Steviuus  of  the  law  of  equilibrium  in  the  inclined 
plane.  His  own  is  different ;  but  he  seems  only  to  consider 
the  case  when  the  direction  of  the  force  is  parallel  to  that 
of  the  plane. 

39.  Still  less  was  known  of  the  principles  of  dynamics 
than  of  those  of  statics,  till  Galileo  came  to  investigate  them. 
The  acceleration  of  falling  bodies,  whether  perpendicularly 


CHAP.  Vm.  HIS  DYNAMICS.  401 

or  on  inclined  planes,  "was  evident ;  but,  in  what  ratio  this 
took  place,  no  one  had  succeeded  in  determining, 
though  many  had  offered  conjectures.  He  showed 
that  the  velocity  acquired  was  proportional  to  the  time 
from  the  commencement  of  falling.  This  might  now  be  de- 
monstrated from  the  laws  of  motion ;  but  Galileo,  who  did 
not  perhaps  distinctly  know  them,  made  use  of  experiment. 
He  then  proved  by  reasoning  that  the  spaces  traversed  in  fall- 
ing were  as  the  squares  of  the  times  or  velocities  ;  that  their 
increments  in  equal  times  were  as  the  uneven  numbers,  1,  3, 
5,  7,  and  so  forth ;  and  that  the  whole  space  was  half  what 
would  have  been  traversed  uniformly  from  the  beginning  with 
the  final  velocity.  These  are  the  great  laws  of  accelerated 
and  retarded  motion,  from  which  Galileo  deduced  most  impor- 
tant theorems.  He  showed  that  the  time  in  which  bodies  roll 
down  the  length  of  inclined  planes  is  equal  to  that  in  which 
they  would  fall  down  the  height,  and  in  different  planes  is  pro- 
portionate to  the  height ;  and  that  their  acquired  velocity  is  in 
the  same  ratios.  In  some  propositions  he  was  deceived ;  but 
the  science  of  dynamics  owes  more  to  Galileo  than  to  any  one 
philosopher.  The  motion  of  projectiles  had  never  been  under- 
stood :  he  showed  it  to  be  parabolic ;  and,  in  this,  he  not  only 
necessarily  made  use  of  a  principle  of  vast  extent,  that  of 
compound  motion  (which,  though  it  is  clearly  mentioned  in 
one  passage  by  Aristotle,1  and  may  probably  be  implied,  or 
even  asserted,  in  the  reasonings  of  others,  as  has  been  observed 
in  another  place  with  respect  to  Jordano  Bruno,  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  explicitly  laid  down  by  modern  writers  on 
mechanical  science),  but  must  have  seen  the  principle  of  curvi- 
linear deflection  by  forces  acting  in  infinitely  small  portions 
of  time.  The  ratio  between  the  times  of  vibration  in  pendu- 
lums of  unequal  length  had  early  attracted  Galileo's  attention. 
But  he  did  not  reach  the  geometrical  exactness  of  which  this 
subject  is  capable.2  He  developed  a  new  principle  as  to  the 
resistance  of  solids  to  the  fracture  of  their  parts,  which, 
though  Descartes  as  usual  treated  it  with  scorn,  is  now  estab- 
lished in  philosophy.  "  One  forms,  however,"  says  Playfair, 
"  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  this  philosopher  from  considering 
the  discoveries  and  inventions,  numerous  and  splendid  as  they 
are,  of  which  he  was  the  undisputed  author.  It  is  by  follow- 
ing his  reasonings,  and  by  pursuing  the  train  of  his  thoughts, 

i  Driakwatei's  Life  of  Galileo,  p.  80.  *  Fabroni. 

VOL.  in.  26 


402  DESCARTES  — HIS  MECHANICS.  PAKT  m. 

in  his  own  elegant  though  somewhat  diffuse  exposition  of 
them,  that  we  become  acquainted  with  the  fertility  of  his 
genius,  with  the  sagacity,  penetration,  and  comprehensiveness 
of  his  mind.  The  service  which  he  rendered  to  real  know- 
ledge is  to  be  estimated  not  only  from  the  truths  which  he 
discovered,  but  from  the  errors  which  he  detected ;  not  merely 
from  the  sound  principles  which  he  established,  but  from  the 
pernicious  idols  which  he  overthrew.  Of  all  the  writers  who 
have  lived  in  an  age  which  was  yet  only  emerging  from  igno- 
rance and  barbarism,  Galileo  has  most  entirely  the  tone  of 
true  philosophy,  and  is  most  free  from  any  contamination 
of  the  times,  in  taste,  sentiment,  and  opinion."1 

40.  Descartes,  who  left  nothing  in  philosophy  untouched, 
Mechanics  turned  his  acute  mind  to  the  science  of  mechanics, 
of  DCS-  sometimes  with  signal  credit,  sometimes  very  unsuc- 
cessfully. He  reduced  all  statics  to  one  principle,  — 
that  it  requires  as  much  force  to  raise  a  body  to  a  given  height 
as  to  raise  a  body  of  double  weight  to  half  the  height.  Thia 
is  the  theorem  of  virtual  velocities  in  another  form.  In  many 
respects  he  displays  a  jealousy  of  Galileo,  and  an  unwilling- 
ness to  acknowledge  his  discoveries,  which  puts  himself  often 
in  the  wrong.  "  I  believe,"  he  says,  "  that  the  velocity  of  very 
heavy  bodies  which  do  not  move  very  quickly  in  descending 
increases  nearly  in  a  duplicate  ratio ;  but  I  deny  that  this  is 
exact,  and  I  believe  that  the  contrary  is  the  case  when  the 
movement  is  very  rapid."2  This  recourse  to  the  air's 
resistance,  a  circumstance  of  which  Galileo  was  well  aware,  in 
order  to  diminish  the  credit  of  a  mathematical  theorem,  is 
unworthy  of  Descartes ;  but  it  occurs  more  than  once  in  his 
letters.  He  maintained  also,  against  the  theory  of  Galileo, 
that  bodies  do  not  begin  to  move  with  an  infinitely  small 
velocity,  but  have  a  certain  degree  of  motion  at  the  first  in- 
stance which  is  afterwards  accelerated.3  In  this  too,  as  he 
meant  to  extend  his  theory  to  falling  bodies,  th«  consent  of 
philosophers  has  decided  the  question  against  him.  It  was  a 
corollary  from  these  notions,  that  he  denies  the  increments  of 
spaces  to  be  according  to  the  progression  of  uneven  numbers.4 

1  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclop.  soit,  ne  passent  point  par  tons  les  degrei 

Britan.  de   tardivete ;    mais  quo  des  le  premier 

1  (Buvres  de  Descartes,  vol.  yiii.  p.  24.  moment  ils  out  certaiuc  vitesse  qui  s'aug-' 

s  "  II  faut  savolr,   quoiqne  Galilee  et  mente  aprus  de  beaucoup,  et  c'est  de  cetto 

quelques  autres  di.«ent  au  contraire,  que  augmentation   quo  vient  la  force  de  la 

les  corps  qui  commencent  4  descendre,  percussion."  —  viii.  181. 

33  4  so  mo  avoir  en  quelque  fac,on  que  ce  *  "  Cette  proportion  d'augmen  Cation  •»> 


CHAP.  Vm.  LAWS  OF  MOTION.  403 

Nor  would  he.  allow  that  the  velocity  of  a  body  augments  its 
force,  though  it  is  a  concomitant.1 

41.  Descartes,  however,  is  the  first  who  laid  down  the  laws 
of  motion  ;  especially  that  all  bodies  persist  in  their  j^  of 
present  state  of  rest  or  uniform  rectilineal  motion  till  motion  laid 
affected  by  some  force.  Many  had  thought,  as  the  D^SrtL. 
vulgar  always  do,  that  a  continuance  of  rest  was 
natural  to  bodies,  but  did  not  perceive  that  the  same  principle 
of  inertia  or  inactivity  was  applicable  to  them  in  rectilineal 
motion.  Whether  this  is  deducible  from  theory,  or  depends 
wholly  on  experience,  by  which  we  ought  to  mean  experiment, 
is  a  question  we  need  not  discuss.  The  fact,  however,  is 
equally  certain ;  and  hence  Descartes  inferred  that  every 
curvilinear  deflection  is  produced  by  some  controlling  force, 
from  which  the  body  strives  to  escape  in  the  direction  of  a 
tangent  to  the  curve.  The  most  erroneous  part  of  his  mechani- 
cal philosophy  is  contained  in  some  propositions  as  to  the 
collision  of  bodies,  so  palpably  incompatible  with  obvious 
experience  that  it  seems  truly  wonderful  he  could  ever  have 
adopted  them.  But  he  was  led  into  these  paradoxes  by  one 
of  the  arbitrary  hypotheses  which  always  governed  him.  He 
fancied  it  a  necessary  consequence,  from  the  immutability  of 
the  divine  nature,  that  there  should  be  at  all  times  the  same 
quantity  of  motion  in  the  universe  ;  and,  rather  than  abandon 
this  singular  assumption,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  assert,  that  two 
hard  bodies  striking  each  other  in  opposite  directions  would  be 
reflected  with  no  loss  of  velocity ;  and,  what  is  still  more 
outrageously  paradoxical,  that  a  smaller  body  is  incapable  of 
communicating  motion  to  a  greater ;  for  example,  that  the  red 
billiard-ball  cannot  put  the  white  into  motion.  This  manifest 
absurdity  he  endeavored  to  remove  by  the  arbitrary  supposi- 
tion, that  when  we  see,  as  we  constantly  do,  the  reverse  of 
his  theorem  take  place,  it  is  owing  to  the  air,  which,  according 
to  him,  renders  bodies  more  susceptible  of  motion  than  they 
would  naturally  be. 

Ion  les  nombres  impairs,  1,  3,  5,  7,  &c.,  cause  de  1'augmentation  de  la  force,  en  • 

qui  est  dans  Galilee,  et  que  je  crois  vous  core  qu'elle  1'accompagne   toujours."  — 

aToir  aussi  ecrite  autrefois,  ne  peut  etre  Id.,  p.  356.    See  also  vol.  viii.  p.  14.    He 

rraie,    qu'en    supposant    deux  ou  trois  was  probably  perplexed  by  the  metaphysi- 

choses  qni  sont  tres  fausses.  dont  Tune  cal  notion  of  causation,  which  he  knew 

est  que  le  mouvement  eroisse  par  degres  not  how  to  ascribe  to  mere  Telocity.    Too 

depuis  le  plus  lent,   ainsi  que  le  songe  fact  that  increased  velocity  is  a  condition 

Galilee,  et  1'autre  que  la  resistance  de  or  antecedent  of  augmented  force  could 

I'air  n'empeche  point."  —  Vol.  ix.  p.  349.  not  be  doubted. 
1  "  Je  pensa  qu»  a  vitesse  n'est  pas  la 


404  DESCARTES.  PART  HI. 

42.  Though  Galileo,  as  well  as  others,  must  have  been 
Also  those  of  acquainted  with  the  laws  of  the  composition  of  mov- 
compound    ing  forces,  it  does  not  appear  that  they  had  ever  been 

forces.  j-  i-      xi 

so  distinctly  enumerated  as  by  Descartes,  in  a  passage 
of  his  Dioptrics.1  That  the  doctrine  was  in  some  measure 
new,  may  be  inferred  from  the  objections  of  Fermat ;  and 
Clerselier,  some  years  afterwards,  speaks  of  persons  "  not  much 
versed  in  mathematics,  who  cannot  understand  an  argument 
taken  from  the  nature  of  compound  motion."  2 

43.  Roberval  demonstrated  what  seems  to  have  been  as- 
Other  dis-    sumed  by  Galileo,   and   is   immediately  deducible 
coveries  in   from  the  composition  of  forces,  that  weights  on  an 

imcs>  oblique  or  crooked  lever  balance  each  other,  when 
they  are  inversely  as  the  perpendiculars  drawn  from  the  cen- 
tre of  motion  to  their  direction.  Fermat,  more  versed  in 
geometry  than  physics,  disputed  this  theorem,  which  is  now 
quite  elementary.  Descartes,  in  a  letter  to  Mersenne,  ungra- 
ciously testifies  his  agreement  with  it.3  Torricelli,  the  most 
illustrious  disciple  of  Galileo,  established,  that,  when  weights 
balance  each  other  in  all  positions,  their  common  centre  of 
gravity  does  not  ascend  or  descend,  and  conversely. 

44.  Galileo,  in  a  treatise  entitled  Delle  Cose  che  stanno 
in  hydro-     ne^'  Acqua,  lays  down  the  principles  of  hydrostatics 
etatics  and    already  established  by  Stevin,  and,  among  others, 

what  is  called  the  hydrostatical  paradox.  Whether 
he  was  acquainted  with  Stevin's  writings  may  be  perhaps 
doubted :  it  does  not  appear  that  he  mentions  them.  The 
more  difficult  science  of  hydraulics  was  entirely  created  by 
two  disciples  of  Galileo, —  Castellio  and  Torricelli.  It  is 
one  everywhere  of  high  importance,  and  especially  in  Italy. 
The  work  of  Castellio,  Delia  Misura  dell'  Acque  Correnti, 
and  a  continuation,  were  published  at  Rome  in  1628.  His 
practical  skill  in  hydraulics,  displayed  in  carrying  off  the 
stagnant  waters  of  the  Arno  and  in  many  other  public 
works,  seems  to  have  exceeded  his  theoretical  science.  An 

1  Vol.  v.  p.  18.  bear  to  think  that  another,  even  though 

*  Vol.  vi.  p.  508.  not  an  enemy,  had  discovered  any  *hing. 

*  "  Je  suis  de  1'opinion,"  says  Descartes,  In  the  preceding  page  he  says,   "  ('  r-t 
"  de  ceux  qui  disent  que  pondera  sunt  in  nne  chose  ridicule  que  de  vouloir  employ- 
trquilibrio  quando  sunt  in  ratione  reciproca  er  la  raison  du  levier  dans  la  poulie,  c« 
linearum  perpendicularium,"   &c.  —  Vol.  qui  est,  si  j'ai  bonne  memoire,  une  imagi- 
Ix.  p.  357.     He  would  not  name  Roberval;  nation  de  Guide  Ubalde."    Yet  this  iin- 
one  of   those  littlenesses  which    appear  agination    Is    demonstrated    in    all    ouz 
too  frequently  in  his  letters,  and  in  all  his  elementary  books  on  mechanics. 
writings.     Descartes    in  fact,  could  not 


CHAP.  Yin.  DISCOVERIES  OF  KEPLER.  405 

error  into  which  he  fell,  supposing  the  velocity  of  fluids  to  be 
as  the  height  down  which  they  had  descended,  led  to  false 
results.  Torricelli  proved  that  it  was  as  the  square  root  of 
the  altitude.  The  latter  of  these  two  was  still  more  dis- 
tinguished by  his  discovery  of  the  barometer.  The  principle 
of  the  siphon  or  sucking-pump,  and  the  impossibility  of  rais- 
ing water  in  it  more  than  about  thirty-three  feet,  were  both 
well  known ;  but  even  Galileo  had  recourse  to  the  clumsy 
explanation,  that  Nature  limited  her  supposed  horror  of  a 
vacuum  to  this  altitude.  It  occurred  to  the  sagacity  of  Tor- 
ricelli, that  the  weight  of  the  atmospheric  column  pressing 
upon  the  fluid  which  supplied  the  pump  was  the  cause  of  this 
rise  above  its  level,  and  that  the  degree  of  rise  was  conse- 
quently the  measure  of  that  weight.  That  the  air  had  weight, 
was  known  indeed  to  Galileo  and  Descartes ;  and  the  latter 
not  only  had  some  notion  of  determining  it  by  means  of  a 
tube  filled  with  mercury,  but,  in  a  passage  .which  seems  to 
have  been  much  overlooked,  distinctly  suggests  as  one  reason 
why  water  will  not  rise  above  eighteen  brasses  in  a  pump, "  the 
weight  of  the  water  which  counterbalances  that  of  the  air."  x 
Torricelli  happily  thought  of  using  mercury,  a  fluid  thirteen 
times  heavier,  instead  of  water,  and  thus  invented  a  portable 
instrument  by  which  the  variations  of  the  mercurial  column 
might  be  readily  observed.  These  he  found  to  fluctuate 
between  certain  well-known  limits,  and  in  circumstances 
which  might  justly  be  ascribed  to  the  variations  of  atmos- 
pheric gravity.  This  discovery  he  made  in  1643  ;  and,  in 
1648,  Pascal,  by  his  celebrated  experiment  on  the  Puy  de 
Dome,  established  the  theory  of  atmospheric  pressure  beyond 
dispute.  He  found  a  considerable  difference  in  the  height 
of  the  mercury  at  the  bottom  and  the  top  of  that  mountain  ; 
and  a  smaller  yet  perceptible  variation  was  proved  on  taking 
the  barometer  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  loftiest  churches  in 
Paris. 

45.  The  science  of  optics  was  so  far  from  falling  behind 
other  branches  of  physics  in  this  period,  that,  includ-  _ 
ing  (lie  two  great  practical  discoveries  which  illus-  Discoveries 
trate  it,  no  former  or  later  generation  has  witnessed  of 
such  an  advance.     Kepler  began,  in  the  year  1604,  by  one 

1  Vol  vii.  p.  437.  of  six  feet,  water  does  not  rise  much  mow 

[This  seems  an  error  of  the  press,  or  of     than  five  brasses.  — 1847.] 
the  »riter ;   for,  the  French  brasse  being 


406  INVENTION  OF  THE  TELESCOPE.  PART  m. 

of  bis  first  works,  Paralipomena  ad  Vitellionem,  a  title  some- 
what more  modest  than  he  was  apt  to  assume.  In  this  sup- 
plement to  the  great  Polish  philosopher  of  the  middle  ages, 
he  first  explained  the  structure  of  the  human  eye,  and  its 
adaptation  to  the  purposes  of  vision.  Porta  and  Maurolycus 
had  made  important  discoveries,  but  left  the  great  problem 
untouched.  Kepler  had  the  sagacity  to  perceive  the  use  of 
the  retina  as  the  canvas  on  which  images  were  painted.  In 
his  treatise,  says  Montucla,  we  are  not  to  expect  the  precision 
of  our  own  age  ;  but  it  is  full  of  ideas  novel,  and  worthy  of  a 
man  of  genius.  He  traced  the  causes  of  imperfect  vision  in 
its  two  principal  cases,  where  the  rays  of  light  converge  to  a 
point  before  or  behind  the  retina.  Several  other  optical  phe- 
nomena are  well  explained  by  Kepler;  but  he  was  unable 
to  master  the  great  enigma  of  the  science,  —  the  law  of  refrac- 
tion. To  this  he  turned  his  attention  again  in  1611,  when 
he  published  a  treatise  on  Dioptrics.  He  here  first  laid  the 
foundation  of  that  science.  The  angle  of  refraction,  which 
Maurolycus  had  supposed  equal  to  that  of  incidence,  Descartes 
assumed  to  be  one-third  of  it ;  which,  though  very  errone- 
ous as  a  general  theorem,  was  sufficiently  accurate  for  the 
sort  of  glasses  he  employed.  It  was  his  object  to  explain 
invention  ^e  principle  of  the  telescope ;  and  in  this  he  well 
of  the  succeeded.  That  admirable  invention  was  then  quite 
8cope'  recent.  Whatever  endeavors  have  been  made  to 
carry  up  the  art  of  assisting  vision  by  means  of  a  tube  to 
much  more  ancient  times,  it  seems  to  be  fully  proved  that  no 
one  had  made  use  of  combined  lenses  for  that  purpose.  The 
slight  benefit  which  a  hollow  tube  affords  by  obstructing  the 
lateral  ray  must  have  been  early  familiar,  and  will  account 
for  passages  which  have  been  construed  to  imply  what  the 
writers  never  dreamed  of.1  The  real  inventor  of  the  tele- 
scope is  not  certainly  known.  Metius  of  Alkmaar  long  en- 
joyed that  honor;  but  the  best  claim  seems  to  be  that  of 
Zachary  Jens,  a  dealer  in  spectacles  at  Middleburg.  The 
date  of  the  invention,  or  at  least  of  its  publicity,  is  referred 
beyond  dispute  to  1609.  The  news  of  so  wonderful  a  novelty 
spread  rapidly  through  Europe ;  and,  in  the  same  year,  Galileo, 
as  has  been  mentioned,  having  heard  of  the  discovery,  con- 

1  Even  Dutens,  whose  sole  aim  is  to  that  the  ancients  made  use  of  glasses  to 
depreciate  those  whom  modern  science  assist  vision.  Origiue  dea  D6couvertee, 
bat)  most  revered,  cannot  pretend  to  show  i.  218. 


CHAP.  Vin.      nTVENTION  OF  THE  MICROSCOPE.  407 

structed,  by  his  own  sagacity,  the  instrument  which  he  exhi- 
bited at  Venice.  It  is,  however,  unreasonable  to  regard 
himself  as  the  inventor;  and  in  this  respect  his  Italian 
panegyrists  have  gone  too  far.  The  original  sort  of  tele- 
scope, and  the  only  one  employed  in  Europe  for  above  thirty 
years,  was  formed  of  a  convex  object-glass  with  a  concave 
eye-glass.  This,  however,  has  the  disadvantage  of  diminish- 
ing too  much  the  space  which  can  be  taken  in  at  one  point  of 
view ;  "  so  that,"  says  Montucla,  "  one  can  hardly  believe  that 
it  could  render  astronomy  such  service  as  it  did  in  the  hands 
of  a  Galileo  or  a  Scheiner."  Kepler  saw  the  principle  upon 
which  another  kind  might  be  framed  with  both  glasses  con- 
vex. This  is  now  called  the  astronomical  telescope,  and  was 
first  employed  a  little  before  the  middle  of  the  century.  The 
former,  called  the  Dutch  telescope,  is  chiefly  used  for  short 
spying  glasses. 

46.  The  microscope  has  also  been  ascribed  to  Galileo ;  and 
so  far  with  better  cause,  that  we  have  no  proof  of   of  the  mi- 
his  having  known  the  previous  invention.    It  appears,  croscope. 
however,  to  have  originated,  like  the  telescope,  in  Holland, 
and  perhaps  at  an   earlier   time.     Cornelius  Drebbel,  who 
exhibited  the  microscope  in  London  about  1620,  has  often 
passed  for  the  inventor.     It  is  suspected  by  Montucla  that  the 
first  microscopes  had  concave  eye-glasses,  and  that  the  present 
form  with  two  convex  glasses  is  not  older  than  the  invention 
of  the  astronomical  telescope. 

47.  Antonio  de  Dominis,   the   celebrated  Archbishop  of 
Spalato,  in  a  book  published  in  1611,  though  written  Antonio  do 
several  years  before,  De  Radiis  Lucis  in  Vitris  Per-  D°minis. 
spectivis  et  Iride,  explained  more  of  the  phenomena  of  the 
rainbow  than  was  then  understood.   The  varieties  of  color  had 
baffled  all  inquirers,  though  the  bow  itself  was  well  known  to 
be  the  reflection  of  solar  light  from  drops  of  rain.     Antonio 
de  Dominis,  to  account  for  these  varieties,  had  recourse  to 
refraction,  the  known  means  of  giving  color  to  the  solar  ray ; 
and  guiding  himself  by  the  experiment  of  placing  between  the 
eye  and  the  sun  a  glass  bottle  of  water,  from  the  lower  side 
of  which  light  issued  in  the  same  order  of  colors  as  in  the 
rainbow,  he  inferred,  that,  after  two  refractions  and  one  inter- 
mediate reflection  within  the  drop,  the  ray  came  to  the  eye 
tinged  with  different  colors,  according  to  the  angle  at  which 
it  had  entered.     Kepler,  doubtless  ignorant  of  De  Dominis's 


408  DIOPTRICS  OF  DESCARTES.  PART  III 

book,  had  suggested  nearly  the  same.  This,  though  not  a 
complete  theory  of  the  rainbow,  and  though  it  left  a  great 
deal  to  occupy  the  attention,  first  of  Descartes,  and  after- 
wards of  Newton,  was  probably  just,  and  carried  the  expla- 
nation as  far  as  the  principles  then  understood  allowed  it  to 
go.  The  discovery  itself  may  be  considered  as  an  anomaly  in 
science,  as  it  is  one  of  a  very  refined  and  subtle  nature,  made 
by  a  man  who  has  given  no  other  indication  of  much  scien- 
tific sagacity  or  acuteness.  In  many  things  his  writings  show 
reat  ignorance  of  principles  of  optics  well  known  in  liis  time, 
o  that  Boscovich,  an  excellent  judge  in  such  matters,  has 
said  of  him,  "  Homo  opticarum  rerum  supra  quod  patiatur  ea 
setas  imperitissimus." 1  Montucla  is  hardly  less  severe  on  De 
Dominis,  who,  in  fact,  was  a  man  of  more  ingenious  than  solid 
understanding. 

48.  Descartes  announced  to  the  world  in   his   Dioptrics, 

1637,  that  he  had  at  length  solved  the  mystery 
cScStes?  which  had  concealed  the  law  of  refraction.  He 
fraction"5"  snowed  tnat  *^e  sme  °f  the  angle  of  incidence  at 

which  the  ray  enters,  has,  in  the  same  medium,  a 
constant  ratio  to  that  of  the  angle  at  which  it  is  refracted,  or 
beat  in  passing  through.  But  this  ratio  varies  according  to 
the  medium ;  some  having  a  much  more  refractive  power 
than  others.  This  was  a  law  of  beautiful  simplicity  as  well 
as  extensive  usefulness ;  but  such  was  the  fatality,  as  we 
would  desire  to  call  it,  which  attended  Descartes,  that  this 
discovery  had  been  indisputably  made  twenty  years  before  by 
a  Dutch  geometer  of  great  reputation,  Willebrod  Snell.  The 
treatise  of  Snell  had  never  been  published ;  but  we  have  the 
evidence  both  of  Vossius  and  Huygens,  that  Hortensius,  a 
Dutch  professor,  had  publicly  taught  the  discovery  of  his 
countryman.  Descartes  had  long  lived  in  Holland ;  privately, 
it  is  true,  and,  by  his  own  account,  reading  few  books :  so  that 
in  this,  as  in  other  instances,  we  may  be  charitable  in  our 
suspicions ;  yet  it  is  unfortunate  that  he  should  perpetually 
stand  in  need  of  such  indulgence. 

49.  Fermat  did  not  inquire  whether  Descartes  was  the  ori- 
Disputed     ginal  discoverer  of  the  law  of  refraction,  but  disputed 
byFennat.   jjg  truth.     Descartes,  indeed,  had  not  contented  him- 
self with  experimentally  ascertaining   it,   but,   in   his   usual 
manner,  endeavored  to  show  the  path  of  the  ray  by  direct 

i  Playfeir,  Dissertation  on  Physical  Philosophy,  p.  119 


CHAP.  Ym.  THEORY  OF  THE  RADsBOW.  409 

reasoning.  The  hypothesis  he  brought  forward  seemed  not 
very  probable  to  Fermat,  nor  would  it  be  permitted  at 
present.  His  rival,  however,  fell  into  the  same  error;  and, 
starting  from  an  equally  dubious  supposition  of  his  own, 
endeavored  to  establish  the  true  law  of  refraction.  He  was 
surprised  to  find,  that,  after  a  calculation  founded  upon  his* 
own  principle,  the  real  truth  of  a  constant  ratio  between  thi 
sines  of  the  angles  came  out  according  to  the  theorem  of 
Descartes.  Though  he  did  not  the  more  admit  the  valid- 
ity of  the  latter's  hypothetical  reasoning,  he  finally  retired 
from  the  controversy  with  an  elegant  compliment  to  his  ad- 
versary. 

50.  In  the  Dioptrics  of  Descartes,  several  other  curious 
theorems  are  contained.     He  demonstrated  that  there  curves  of 
are  peculiar  curves,  of  which  lenses  may  be   con-  D***3"**8- 
structed,  by  the  refraction  from  whose  superficies  all  the  inci- 
dent rays  will  converge  to  a  focal   point,   instead  of  being 
spread,  as  in  ordinary  lenses,  over  a  certain  extent  of  sur- 
face commonly  called  its  spherical   aberration.      The    effect 
of  employing  such  curves  of  glass  would  be  an  increase  of 
illumination,  and  a  more  perfect  distinctness  of  image.     These 
curves  were  called  the  ovals  of  Descartes ;  but  the  elliptic  or 
hyperbolic  speculum  would  answer  nearly  the  same  purpose. 
The  latter  kind   has   been  frequently   attempted;    but,   on 
account  of  the  difficulties  in  working  them,  if  there  were  no 
other  objection,  none  but  spherical   lenses   are   in   use.     In 
Descartes'  theory,  he  explained  the  equality  of  the  angles  of 
incidence  and  reflection  in  the  case  of  light,  correctly  as  to 
the  result,  though  with  the  assumption  of  a  false  principle  of 
his  own,  that  no  motion  is  lost  in  the  collision  of  hard  bodies 
such  as  he  conceived  light  to  be.     Its  perfect  elasticity  makes 
his  demonstration  true. 

51.  Descartes  carried  the  theory  of  the  rainbow  beyond  the 
point  where  Antonio  de  Dominis  had  left  it.     He  Theory  of 
gave  the  true  explanation  of  the  outer  bow,  by  a  tfce  rainbow, 
second  intermediate  reflection   of  the   solar   ray  within   the 
drop ;    and  he  seems  to  have   answered   the   question    most 
naturally  asked,  though  far  from  being  of  obvious  solution, 
why  all  this  refracted  light  should  only  strike  the  eye  in  two 
arches  with  certain  angles  and  diameters,  instead  of  pouring 
its  prismatic  lustre  over  all  the  rain-drops  of  the  cloud.     He 
found  that  no  pencil  of  light  continued,  after  undergoing  the 


410  THEORY  OF  THE  RAINBOW.  PART  III. 

processes  of  refraction  and  reflection  in  the  drop,  to  be  com- 
posed of  parallel  rays,  and  consequently  to  possess  that  degree 
of  density  which  fits  it  to  excite  sensation  in  our  eyes,  except 
the  two  which  make  those  angles  with  the  axis  drawn  from 
the  sun  to  an  opposite  point  at  which  the  two  bows  are  per- 
ceived. 


CHAP.  EX.          ALDEOVANDUS  — CLUSIUS  — PISO.  411 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HISTOKY  OP  SOME  OTHER  PROVINCES  OF  LITERATURE   FROM 
1600  TO  1650. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  NATUBAL  HISTORY. 

Zoology — Fabricius  on  Language  of  Brutes — Botany. 

1.  THE  vast  collections  of  Aldrovandus  on  zoology,  though 
they  may  be  considered  as  representing  to  us  the  Aidroyan- 
knowledge  of  the  sixteenth  century,  were,  as  has  dus- 
been  seen  before,  only  published  in  a  small  part  before  its 
close.     The  fourth  and  concluding  part  of  his  Ornithology 
appeared  in  1603  ;  the  History  of  Insects  in  1604.     Aldro- 
vandus himself  died  in  1605.     The  posthumous  volumes  ap- 
peared at  considerable  intervals :  that  on  molluscous  animals 
and  zoophytes,  in  1606  ;  on  ^fishes  and  cetacea,  in  1613  ;   on 
whole-hoofed  quadrupeds,  in  1616;   on  digitate  quadrupeds, 
both  viviparous  and  oviparous,  in  1637  ;  on  serpents,  in  1640 ; 
and  on  cloven-hoofed  quadrupeds,  in  1642.     There  are  also 
volumes  on  plants  and  minerals.     These  were  all  printed  at 
Bologna,  and  most  of  them  afterwards  at  Frankfort ;   but  a 
complete  collection  is  very  rare. 

2.  In  the  Exotica  of  Clusius,  1605,  a  miscellaneous  vo- 
lume on  natural  history,  chiefly,  but  not  wholly,  con- 

•   ••          f  .          i    .  •  ,,f»  11  i         Clusius. 

sisting  of  translations  or  extracts  from  older  works, 
we  find  several  new  species  of  simiae,  the  manis,  or  scaly 
ant-eater  of  the  old  world,  the  three-toed  sloth,  and  one  or 
two  armadillos.  We  may  add  also  the  since-extinguished 
race,  that  phoenix  of  ornithologists,  the  much-lamented  dodo. 
This  portly  bird  is  delineated  by  Clusius,  such  as  it  then 
existed  in  the  Mauritius. 

3.  In  1648,  Piso  on  the  Materia  Medica  of  Brazil,  together 


412  MAECGRAF  — JONSTON.  PART  111 

with  Marcgraf's  Natural  History  of  the  same  country,  was 
piso  and  published  at  Leyden,  with  notes  by  De  Laet.  The 
Marcgraf.  descriptions  of  Marcgraf  are  good,  and  enable  ue 
to  identify  the  animals.  They  correct  the  imperfect  notions 
of  Gesner,  and  add  several  species  which  do  not  appear 
in  his  work,  or  perhaps  in  that  of  Aldrovandus :  such  as  the 
tamandua,  or  Brazilian  ant-eater;  several  of  the  family  of 
cavies;  the  coatimondi,  which  Gesner  had  perhaps  meant 
in  a  defective  description ;  the  lama,  the  pacos,  the  jaguar, 
and  some  smaller  feline  animals ;  the  prehensile  porcupine, 
and  several  ruminants.  But  some  at  least  of  these  had  been 
already  described  in  the  histories  of  the  West  Indies,  by 
Hernandez  d'Oviedo,  Acosta,  and  Herrera. 

4.  Jonston,  a  Pole  of  Scots  origin,  collected  the  information 
Jonston  °^  k*s  predecessors  m  a  Natural  History  of  Animals, 
published  in  successive  parts  from  1648  to  1652. 
The  History  of  Quadrupeds  appeared  in  the  latter  year. 
"  The  text,"  says  Cuvier,  "is* extracted,  with  some  taste,  from 
Gesner,  Aldrovandus,  Marcgraf,  and  Moutfet;  and  it  answered 
its  purpose  as  an  elementary  work  in  natural  history,  till  Lin- 
naeus taught  a  more  accurate  method  of  classifying,  naming, 
and  describing  animals.  Even  Linnaeus  cites  him  continu- 
ally."1 I  find  in  Jonston  a  pretty  good  account  of  the  chim- 
panzee (Orang-otang  Indorum,  ab  Angola  delatus),  taken 
perhaps  from  the  Observationes  Medicae  of  Tulpius.2  The 
delineations  in  Jonston  being  from  copper-plates,  are  superior 
to  the  coarse  wood-cuts  of  Gesner,  but  fail  sometimes  very 
greatly  in  exactness.  In  his  notions  of  classification,  being 
little  else  than  a  compiler,  it  may  be  supposed  that  he  did  not 
advance  a  step  beyond  his  predecessors.  The  Theatrura 
Insectorum  by  Mouffet,  an  English  physician  of  the  preced- 
ing century,  was  published  in  1634:  it  seems  to  be  com- 
piled in  a  considerable  degree  from  the  unpublished  papers 
of  Gesner  and  foreign  naturalists,  whom  the  author  has 
rather  too  servilely  copied.  Haller,  however,  is  said  to  have 

i  Biogr.  Univ.  zee  of  Angola,  we  find  alarming  intima- 

1  Grotius,  Epist.  ad  Hallos,  p.  21,  gives  tions.     "  Cogitat,  ratiocinatur,  credit  suJ 

an  account  of  a  chimpanzee,  "  monstrum  causa  factam  tellurem,  se  uliquaudo  ite 

hominis  dicam  an  bestiae  ? "  and  refers  to  rum  fore  imperantem.   si  unquam  fide* 

Tulpius.     The  doubt  of  Orotius  as  to  the  peregrinatoribus  multis." — Systema  N» 

possible  humanity  of  this  quam  similis  turso,  Holm.  1766.     I  rather  believe  thw 

tuTpissima  bestia  nobis,  is  not  so  strange  has  been  left  out  by  Gmelin.     But  pel 

as  the  much  graver  language  of  Linnaeus,  haps  it  was  only  a  dry  way  of  turning 

[In  the  description  of  Homo  Troglody-  travellers  into  ridicule. — 1842.] 
tea,  as  Linnaeus  denominates  the  chiuipan- 


CHAP.  EX.  FABRICITS  DE  AQUAPEXDEXTE.  413 

placed  Mouffet  above  all  entomologists  before  the  age  of 
Swammerdam.1 

5.  We  may  place  under  the  head  of  zoology  a  short  essay 
by  Fabricius  de  Aquapendente,  on  the  language  of 

.J    .  ,  .  .       ,f       e ,    e  ,  .   ,      Fabricius 

brutes ;  a  subject  very  cunous  in  itself,  and  which  On  the  ian 
has  by  no  means  sufficiently  attracted  notice  even '  in 
this  experimental  age.  It  cannot  be  said  that  Fa- 
bricius  enters  thoroughly  into  the  problem,  much  less  exhausts 
it.  He  divides  the  subject  into  six  questions :  1 .  Whether 
brutes  have  a  language,  and  of  what  kind ;  2.  How  far  it 
differs  from  that  of  man,  and  whether  the  languages  of  dif- 
ferent species  differ  from  one  another ;  3.  What  is  its  use ; 
4.  In  what  modes  animals  express  their  affections ;  5,  What 
means  we  have  of  understanding  their  language ;  6.  What  is 
their  organ  of  speech.  The  affirmative  of  the  first  question 
he  proves  by  authority  of  several  writers,  confirmed  by  expe- 
rience, especially  of  hunters,  shepherds,  and  cowherds,  who 
know,  by  the  difference  of  sounds,  what  animals  mean  to 
express.  It  may  be  objected  that  brutes  utter  sounds,  but 
do  not  speak.  But  this  is  merely  as  we  define  speech;  and  he 
attempts  to  show,  that  brutes,  by  varying  their  utterance, 
do  all  that  we  do  by  literal  sounds.  This  leads  to  the  solution 
of  the  second  question.  Men  agree  with  brutes  in  having 
speech,  and  in  forming  elementary  sounds  of  determinate 
time :  but  ours  is  more  complex ;  these  elementary  sounds, 
which  he  calls  articulos,  or  joints  of  the  voice,  being  quicker 
and  more  numerous.  Man,  again,  forms  his  sounds  more  by 
means  of  the  lips  and  tongue,  which  are  softer  in  him  than 
they  are  in  brutes.  Hence  his  speech  runs  into  great  variety 
and  complication,  which  we  call  language,  while  that  of  ani- 
mals within  the  same  species  is  much  more  uniform. 

6.  The  question  as  to  the  use  of  speech  to  brutes  is  not 
difficult.     But  he  seems  to  confine  this  utility  to  the  expres- 
sion of  particular  emotions,  and  does  not  meddle  with  the 
more  curious  inquiry,  whether-  they  have  a  capacity  of  com- 
municating specific  facts  to  one  another;   and,  if  they  have, 

1  Biogr.  Univer. ;   Chalmers.    I  am  no  are  in  both  countries  called  Bow-krickets, 

judg«  of  the  merits  of  the  book ;  but.  if  or  Baulm-krickets.v  —  p.  989.    This  tran?- 

the  following    sentence   of   the    English  lation  is  subjoined  to  Topsail's  History  of 

translation  does  it  no  injuFtice,  Mouffet  Fonr-footed  'Beasts,  collected  out  of  Ges- 

must  have  taken  little  pains  to  do  more  ner  and  others,  in  an  edition  of  1658.     The 

than  transcribe :    "  In  Germany  and  Eng-  first  edition  of   TopselTs  rery    ordinary 

land  I  do  not  hear  that  there  are  any  composition  was  in  1608. 
frcutAopperi  at  ail ;  but  if  there  be,  they 


414  LANGUAGE  OF  BRUTES.  PART  IH. 

whether  this  is  done  through  the  organs  of  the  voice.  The 
fourth  question  is,  in  how  many  modes  animals  express  their 
feelings.  These  are  by  look,  by  gesture,  by  sound,  by  voice, 
by  language.  Fabricius  tells  us  that  he  had  seen  a  dog, 
meaning  to  expel  another  dog  from  the  place  he  wished  him- 
self to  occupy,  begin  by  looking  fierce,  then  use  menacing 
gestures,  then  growl,  and  finally  bark.  Inferior  animals,  such 
as  worms,  have  only  the  two  former  sorts  of  communication. 
Fishes,  at  least  some  kinds,  have  a  power  of  emitting  a  sound, 
though  not  properly  a  voice :  this  may  be  by  the  fins  or  gills. 
To  insects  also  he  seems  to  deny  voice,  much  more  language, 
though  they  declare  their  feelings  by  sound.  Even  of  oxen, 
stags,  and  some  other  quadrupeds,  he  would  rather  say  that 
they  have  voice  than  language.  But  cats,  dogs,  and  birds 
have  a  proper  language.  All,  however,  are  excelled  by  man, 
who  is  truly  called  vepofy,  from  his  more  clear  and  distinct 
articulations. 

7.  In  the  fifth  place,  however  difficult  it  may  appear  to 
understand  the  language  of  brutes,  we  know  that  they  under- 
stand what  is  said  to  them ;  how  much  more,  therefore,  ought 
we,  superior  in  reason,  to  understand  them!  He  proceeds 
from  hence  to  an  analysis  of  the  passions,  which  he  reduces 
to  four,  — joy,  desire,  grief,  and  fear.  Having  thus  drawn 
our  map  of  the  passions,  we  must  ascertain  by  observation 
what  are  the  articulations  of  which  any  species  of  animals 
is  capable,  which  cannot  be  done  by  description.  His  own 
experiments  were  made. on  the  dog  and  the  hen.  Their  arti- 
culations are  sometimes  complex ;  as,  when  a  dog  wants  to 
come  into  his  master's  chamber,  he  begins  by  a  shrill  small 
yelp,  expressive  of  desire,  which  becomes  deeper,  so  as  to 
denote  a  mingled  desire  and  annoyance,  and  ends  in  a  lament- 
able howl  of  the  latter  feeling  alone.  Fabricius  gives  several 
other  rules  deduced  from  observation  of  dogs,  but  ends  by 
confessing  that  he  has  not  fully  attained  his  object,  which  was 
to  furnish  every  one  with  a  compendious  method  of  under- 
standing the  language  of  animals :  the  inquirer  must  therefore 
proceed  upon  these  rudiments,  and  make  out  more  by  obser- 
vation and  good  canine  society.  He  shows,  finally,  from  the 
different  structure  of  the  organs  of  speech,  that  no  brute  can 
ever  rival  man ;  the  chief  instrument  being  the  throat,  which 
we  use  only  for  vowel  sounds.  Two  important  questions  are 
hardly  touched  in  this  little  treatise :  first,  as  has  been  said, 


CHAP.  EX.  COLUMNA  — BAUHIN.  415 

whether  brutes  can  communicate  specific  facts  to  each  other ; 
and,  secondly,  to  what  extent  they  can  associate  ideas  with 
the  language  of  man.  These  ought  to  occupy  our  excellent 
naturalists. 

8.  Columna,  belonging  to  the  Colonna  family,  and  one  of 
the  greatest  botanists  of  the  sixteenth  century,  main-  Botany: 
tained  the  honor  of  that  science  during  the  present  Columna- 
period,  which  his  long  life  embraced.     In  the  Academy  of  the 
Lincei,  to  which  the  revival  of  natural  philosophy  is  greatly 
due,  Columna  took  a  conspicuous  share.     His  Ecphrasis,  a 
history  of  rare  plants,  was  published  in  two  parts  at  Rome, 
in  1606  and  1616.     In  this  he  laid  down  the  true  basis  of 
the  science,  by  establishing  the  distinction  of  genera,  which 
Gesner,  Cassalpin,  and  Joachim  Camerarius  had  already  con- 
ceived, but  which  it  was  left  for  Columna  to  confirm  and  em- 
ploy.    He  alone,  of  all  the  contemporary  botanists,  seems 
to  have  appreciated  the  luminous  ideas  which  Caesalpin  had 
bequeathed  to  posterity.1     In  his  posthumous  observations  on 
the  Natural  History  of  Mexico  by  Hernandez,  he  still  further 
developed  the  philosophy  of  botanical  arrangements.   •Colum- 
na is  the  first  who  used  copper  instead  of  wood  to  delineate 
plants ;  an  improvement  which  soon  became  general.     This 
was  in  the  $vTo6daavof,  sive  Plantarum  aliquot  Historia,  1594. 
There  are  errors  in  this  work ;   but  it  is  remarkable  for  the 
accuracy  of  the   descriptions,   and  for  the   correctness   and 
beauty  of  the  figures.2 

9.  Two  brothers,  John  and  Gaspar  Bauhin,  inferior  in  phi- 
losophy to  Columna,  made  more  copious  additions  to  j^^ 
the  nomenclature  and  description  of  plants.      The  Gaspar 
elder,  who  was  born  in  1541,  and  had  acquired  some   * 
celebrity  as  a  botanist  in  the  last  century,  lived  to  complete, 
but  not  to  publish,  an  Historia  Plantarum  TJniversalis,  which 
did  not  appear  till   1650.     It  contains  the   descriptions  of 
5,000  species,  and  the  figures  of  3,577,  but  small  and  ill-exe- 
cuted.     His  brother,  though  much  younger,  had   preceded 
him,  not  only  by  the  Phytopinax  in  1596,  but  by  his  chief 
work,  the  Pinax  Theatri  Botanici,  in  1623.     "Gaspar  Bau- 
hin," says  a  modern  botanist,  "  is  inferior  to  his  brother  in  his 
descriptions  and  in  sagacity ;  but  his  delineations  are  better, 
and  his  synonymes  more   complete.     They  are  both  below 
Clusius  in  description,  and  below  several  older  botanists  in 

1  Biogr.  Unir.  *  Id.  SprengeL 


416  ANATOMY  AND  MEDICINE.  PART  HI, 

their  figures.  In  their  arrangement  they  follow  Lobel,  and 
have  neglected  the  lights  which  Csesalpin  and  Columna  had 
held  out.  Their  chief  praise  is  to  have  brought  together  a 
great  deal  of  knowledge  acquired  by  their  predecessors ;  but 
the  merit  of  both  has  been  exaggerated."1 

10.  Johnson,  in  1636,  published  an  edition  of  Gerard's 
Parkinson  Herbal.  But  the  Theatruni  Botanicum  of  Parkinson, 
in  1640,  is  a  work,  says  Pulteney,  of  much  more  ori- 
ginality than  Gerard's ;  and  it  contains  abundantly  more  mat- 
ter. We  find  in  it  near  3,800  plants  ;  but  many  descriptions 
recur  more  than  once.  The  arrangement  is  in  seventeen 
classes,  partly  according  to  the  known  or  supposed  qualities 
of  the  plant,  and  partly  according  to  their  external  character.2 
"  This  heterogeneous  classification,  which  seems  to  be  founded 
on  that  of  Dodoens,  shows  the  small  advances  that  had  been 
made  towards  any  truly  scientific  distribution :  on  the  con- 
trary, Gerard,  Johnson,  and  Parkinson  had  rather  gone  back, 
by  not  sufficiently  pursuing  the  example  of  Lobel." 


SECT.  II.  —  ON  ANATOMY  AND  MEDICINE. 

Claims  of  Early  Writers  to  the  Discovery  of  the  Circulation  of  the  Blood  —  Harvey 
—  Lacteal  Vessels  discovered  by  Asellius  —  Medicine. 

11.  THE  first  important  discovery  that  was  made  public 
valves  of  *n  this  century  was  that  of  the  valves  of  the  veins  ; 
the  veins  which  is  justly  ascribed  to  Fabricius  de  Aquapcn- 
dente,  a  professor  at  Padua ;  because,  though  some 
of  these  valves  are  described  even  by  Bcrenger,  and  further 
observations  were  made  on  the  subject  by  Sylvius,  Vesalius, 
and  other  anatomists,  yet  Fallopius  himself  had  in  this  in- 
stance thrown  back  the  science  by  denying  their  existence ; 
and  no  one  before  Fabricius  had  generalized  the  discovery. 
This  he  did  in  his  public  lectures  as  early  as  1524;  but 

1  Biogr.  TJniv.     Pulteney  speaks  more  time,  relating  to  the  history  of  vegetables, 

highly  of   John  Bauhin :    "  That  which  and  is  executed  with  that  accuracy  and 

Gesner  performed  for  zoology,  John  Bau-  critic:d  judgment  which  can  only  be  ex- 

hin  effected  in  botany.     It  is,  in  reality,  hibited  by  superior  talents." — Hist,  of 

a  repository  of  all  that  was  valuable  in  Botany  in  England,  i.  190. 

the  ancients,  in  his  immediate  predeces-  z  P.  146. 
tors,  and  in  the  discoveries  of  his  own 


CHAP.  IX.  CIRCULATION  OF  THE  BLOOD.  417 

his  tract  De  Venarum  Ostiolis  appeared  in  1603.  This 
discovery,  as  well  as  that  of  Harvey,  has  been  attributed 
to  Father  Paul  Sarpi,  whose  immense  reputation  in  the 
north  of  Italy  accredited  every  tale  favorable  to  his  glory. 
But  there  seems  to  be  no  sort  of  ground  for  either  supposi- 
tion. 

12.  The    discovery  of  a   general  circulation  in  the  blood 
has  done  such  honor  to  Harvey's  name,  and  has  been  -n^ry  of 
claimed  for  so  many  others,  that  it  deserves  more  the  blood's 
consideration  than  we  can  usually  give  to  anatomical  n 
science.      According   to  Galen,  and   the   general   theory  of 
anatomists  formed  by  his  writings,  the  arterial  blood   flows 
from  the  heart  to  the  extremities,  and  returns  again  by  the 
game  channels ;  the  venous  blood  being  propelled,  in  like  man- 
ner, to    and   from    the    liver.     The    discovery  attributed  to 
Harvey  was,  that  the  arteries  communicate  with  the  veins, 
and   that    all    the    blood  returns  to  the  heart  by  the  latter 
vessels.     Besides  this  general  or  systemic  circulation,  there 
is  one  called  the  pulmonary,  in  which  the  blood  is  carried 
by  certain  arteries  through  the  lungs,  and  returned  again  by 
corresponding  veins  preparatory  to  its  being  sent  into  the 
general  sanguineous  system ;  so  that  its  course  is  through  a 
double  series  of  ramified  vessels,  each  beginning  and  termi- 
nating at  the  heart,  but  not  at  the  same  side  of  the  heart : 
the  left  side,  which  from  a  cavity  called  its  ventricle  throws 
out  the  arterial  blood  by  the  aorta,  and  by  another  called  its 
auricle  receives  that  which   has    passed   through   the   lungs 
by  the  pulmonary  vein,  being  separated  by  a  solid  septum 
from  the  right  side,  which,  by  means  of  similar  cavities,  re- 
ceives the  blood  of  all  the  veins,  excepting  those  of  the  lungs, 
and  throws  it  out  into  the  pulmonary  artery.     It  is  thus  evi- 
dent that  the  word  "  pulmonary  circulation "  is  not   strictly 
proper ;  there  being  only  one  for  the  whole  body. 

13.  The  famous  work  of  Servetus,  Christianismi  Restitutio, 
has  excited  the  attention  of  the  literary  part  of  the   sometimes 
world,  not  only  by  the  unhappy  fate  it  brought  upon   ascribed  to 
the  author,  and  its  extreme  scarcity,  but  by  a  re- 
markable passage  wherein  he  has  been  supposed  to  describe 
the  circulation  of  the  blood.     That  Servetus  had  a  just  idea 
of  the  pulmonary  circulation  and  the  aeration  of  the  blood 
in  the  lungs,  is  manifest  by  this  passage,  and  is  denied  by  no 
one ;  but  it  has  been  the  opinion  of  anatomists,  that  he  did 

YOU  m.          27 


418 


COLUMBUS  —  PULMONARY  CIRCULATION.     TAKT  Hi. 


not  apprehend  the  return  of  the  mass  of  the  blood  through 
the  veins  to  the  right  auricle  of  the  heart.1 

14.  Columbus  is  acknowledged  to  have  been  acquainted 
TO  Coium-  with  the  pulmonary  circulation.  He  says  of  his  own 
bus>  discovery,  that  no  one  had  observed  or  consigned  it 

to  writing  before.     Arantius,  according   to   Portal,   has   de- 


1  In  the  first  edition  of  this  work,  I  re- 
marked, vol.  i.  p.  458,  that  Levasseur  had 
come  much  nearer  to  the  theory  of  a 
general  circulation  than  Servetus.  But 
the  passage  in  Levasseur,  which  I  knew 
only  from  the  quotation  in  Portal,  Hist, 
de  1'Anatomie,  i.  373,  does  not,  on  con- 
pulting  the  book  itself,  bear  out  the  in- 
ference which  Portal  seems  to  deduce ; 
and  he  has,  not  quite  rightly,  omitted  all 
expressions  which  he  thought  erroneous. 
Thus  Levasseur  precedes  the  first  sen- 
tence of  Portal's  quotation  by  the  follow- 
ing :  "  Intus  (in  corde)  sunt  sinus  seu 
ventriculi  duo  tantum,  septo  quodam  me- 
dio  discreti,  per  cujus  foramina  sanguis  et 
spiritus  cominunicatur.  In  utroque  duo 
vasa  habentur."  For  this  he  quotes  Ga- 
len ;  and  the  perforation  of  the  septum 
of  the  heart  is  known  to  be  one  of  Galen's 
errors.  Upon  the  whole,  there  seems  no 
ground  for  believing  that  Lcvasseur  was 
acquainted  with  the  general  circulation ; 
and,  though  his  language  may  at  first  lead 
us  to  believe  that  he  speaks  of  that  through 
the  lungs,  even  this  is  not  distinctly  made 
out.  Sprengel,  in  his  History  of  Medicine, 
does  not  mention  the  name  of  Levasseur 
(or  Vassaeus,  as  he  was  called  in  Latin) 
among  thtise  who  anticipated  in  any  degree 
the  discovery  of  circulation.  The  book 
quoted  by  Portal  is  Vasssous  in  Anatomen 
Corporis  Humani  Tabulae  Quatuor.  several 
times  printed  between  1540  and  1560. 

Andres  (Origine  e  Progresso  d'  ogni  Lit- 
teratura,  vol.  xiv.  p.  37)  has  put  in  a 
claim  for  a  Spanish  farrier,  by  name 
Rcyna,  who,  in  a  book  printed  in  1552, 
but  of  which  there  seems  to  have  been  an 
earlier  edition  (Libro  de  Maniscalcheria 
hecho  y  ordenado  por  Francisco  de  la 
Beyna),  asserts,  in  few  and  plain  words, 
us  Andres  quotes  them  in  Italian,  that 
the  blood  goes  in  a  circle  through  all  the 
I  i  n  1 1  is.  I  do  not  know  that  the  book  has 
been  seen  by  any  one  else  ;  and  it  would 
be  desirable  to  examine  the  context,  since 
other  writers  have  seemed  to  know  the 
truth  without  really  apprehending  it. 

That  Servetus  was  only  acquainted  with 
the  pulmonary  circulation  has  been  the 
general  opinion.  Portal,  though  ia  one 
place  he  speaks  with  less  precision,  repeat- 
edly limits  the  discovery  to  this ;  and 
Sprengel  does  not  entertain  the  least  sus- 
picion that  it  went  farther.  Andres  (xlr. 


38),  not  certainly  a  medical  authority,  but 
conversant  with  such,  and  very  partial  to 
Spanish  claimants,  asserts  the  same.  If  a 
more  general  language  may  be  found  in 
some  writers,  it  may  be  ascribed  to  their 
want  of  distinguishing  the  two  circula- 
tions. A  medical  friend,  who,  at  my  re- 
quest, perused  and  considered  the  passage 
in  Servetus,  as  it  is  quoted  in  Allwoerden's 
life,  says  in  a  letter,  "All  that  this  pas- 
sage implies,  which  has  any  reference  to 
the  greater  circulation,  may  be  comprised 
in  the  following  points  :  —  1.  That  the 
hc.-trt  transmits  a  vivifying  principle  along 
the  arteries  and  the  Mood  which  thsy 
contain  to  the  anastomosing  veins;  2. 
That  this  living  principle  vivifies  the  liver 
and  the  venous  system  generally  ;  3.  That 
the  liver  produces  the  blood  Itself,  and 
transmits  it  through  the  vena  CHV.-I  to 
the  heart,  in  order  to  obtain  the  vital 
principle,  by  performing  the  lesser  circu- 
lation, which  Servetus  seems  perfectly  to 
comprehend. 

"  Now,  according  to  this  view  of  th« 
passage,  all  the  movement  of  the  blood 
hni>/ieil  is  that  whicli  takes  place  from 
the  liver,  through  the  vena  cava  to  the 
heart,  and  that  of  the  lessor  circulation. 
It  would  appear  to  me  that  Servetus  is  on 
the  brink  of  the  discovery  of  the  circu- 
lation; but  that  his  notions  respecting 
the  transmission  of  his  uitalis  sjiiritns  di- 
verted his  attention  from  that  great  move- 
ment of  the  blood  itself  which  Harvey 
discovered.  ...  It  is  clear  that  the  quan- 
tity of  blood  sent  to  the  heart  for  the 
elaboration  of  the  vitalis  spiritus  is,  ac- 
cording to  Servetus,  only  that  furnished 
by  the  liver  to  the  vena  eava  inferior. 
But  the  blood  thus  introduced  is  repre- 
sented by  him  as  performing  the  circula- 
tion through  the  lungs  very  regularly." 

It  appears  singular,  that,  while  Scrvetui 
distinctly  knew  that  the  septum  of  the 
heart,  paries  Me  meelius,  as  he  calls  it.  is 
closed,  which  Berenger  had  discovered, 
and  Vesalius  confirmed  (though  the  hulk 
of  anatomists  long  afterwards  adhered  to 
Galen's  notion  of  perforation),  and  conse- 
quently that  some  other  means  must  exHt 
for  restoring  the  blood  from  the  left  divi- 
sion of  the  heart  to  the  right,  he  should 
not  have  seen  the  necessity  of  a  system  of 
vessels  to  carry  forward  this  communica- 
tion. 


CHAT.  IX.  C^SALPET.  419 

scribed  the  pulmonary  circulation  still  better  than  Columbus  ; 
while  Sprengel  denies  that  he  has  described  it  at  all.  It  is 
perfectly  certain,  and  is  admitted  on  all  sides,  that  Columbus 
did  not  know  the  systemic  circulation :  in  what  manner  he 
disposed  of  the  blood  does  not  very  clearly  appear ;  but.  as 
he  conceived  a  passage  to  exist  between  the  ventricles  of 
the  heart,  it  is  probable,  though  his  words  do  not  lead  to  this 
inference,  that  he  supposed  the  aerated  blood  to  be  trans- 
mitted back  in  this  course.1 

15.  Csesalpin,  whose  versatile  genius  entered  upon  every 
field  of  research,  has,  in  more  than  one  of  his  trea-  And  to 
tises  relating  to  very  different  topics,  and  especially  G***1?111- 
in  that  upon  plants,  some  remarkable  passages  on  the  same 
subject,  which  approach  more  nearly  than  any  we  have  seen 
to  a  just  notion  of  the  general  circulation,  and  have  led 
several  writers  to  insist  on  his  claim  as  a  prior  discoverer 
to  Harvey.  Portal  admits  that  this  might  be  regarded  as  a 
fair  pretension,  if  he  were  to  judge  from  such  passages  ;  but 
there  are  others  which  contradict  this  supposition,  and  show 
CiT-~alpin  to  have  had  a  confused  and  imperfect  idea  of  the 
office  of  the  veins.  Sprengel,  though  at  first  he  seems  to 
incline  more  towards  the  pretensions  of  Caesalpin,  comes  ulti- 
mately almost  to  the  same  conclusion ;  and,  giving  the  reader 
the  words  of  most  importance,  leaves  him  to  form  his  own 
judgment.  The  Italians  are  more  confident :  Tiraboschi  and 
Corniani,  neither  of  whom  are  medical  authorities,  put  in  an 
unhesitating  claim  for  Caesalpin  as  the  discoverer  of  the  circu- 
lation of  the  blood,  not  without  unfair  reflections  on  Harvey.2 

1  The  leading  passage  In  Columbus  (De  alone.    Whether  he  knew  of  the  passages 

Be  Anatomica,  lib.  yii.  p.  177,  edit.  1559),  in  Servetus  or  no,   notwithstanding  his 

which  I  have  not  found  quoted  by  Portal  claim  of  originality,  IB  not  perhaps  mani- 

or  Sprengel,  is  as  follows :     '•  Inter  hoe  feet ;  the  coincidence  as  to  the  function  of 

ventriculOB  septum  adest.  per  quod  fere  the  lungs  in  iterating  the  blood  is  remark- 

omnes  existimant  sanguini  a  dextro  Ten-  able :    but.  if  Columbus  had  any  direct 

triculo  ad  ginistrunk  aditum  patefieri ;  id  knowledge  of  the  Christianismi  Restitutio, 

ut  fieret  fecilius.  in  transitu  ob  vitalium  he   did    not  choose   to  follow  it  in  the 

spirituum   generationem    demum    reddi ;  remarkable  discovery   that  there    is    no 

sed  longa  errant  via  ;    nam  sanguia  per  perforation  in  the  septum  between  the 

arteriosam  venam  ad  pulmonem  fertur;  ventricles. 

ibique  attenuatur  ;  deinde  cum  acre  una  *  Tiraboschi,   x.  49 :    Comiani.   vi.   8. 

per  arteriam  venalem  ad  sinistrum  cordis  He  quotes,  on  the  authority  of  another 

Tentrieulum  defertur;  quod  nemo  hacte-  Italian  writer,  "II  giudizio  di  due  illustri 

nus  aut  animadTertit  aut  scriptuni  reli-  Inglesi,  i  fratelli  Hunter,  i  quali,  esami- 

quit ;  licet  maxime  et  ab  omnibus  animad-  nato  bene  il  proceeso  di  questa  causa,  si 

vertendum."      He    afterwards    makes    a  maravigliano  dtlia  sentenza  data  tn  f&- 

remark,  in  which  Servetus  had  preceded  rare  del  loro  eondttadino."    I  must  doubt, 

him,  that  the  size  of  the  pulmonary  arte-  till  more  evidence  ie  produced,  whether 

ry  (vena  arteriosa)  is  greater  than  would  this  be  true. 

be  required  for  the  nutrition  of  the  lungs  The  passage  in  Csesalpin's  Qu*stloMS 


420  HARVEY'S  DISCOVERY.  PART  IIL 

16.  It  is  thus  manifest,  that  several  anatomists  of  the  six- 

teenth century  were  on  the  verge  of  completely 
unknown  detecting  the  law  by  which  the  motion  of  the  blood 
before  jg  governed ;  and  the  language  of  one  is  so  strong, 

that  we  must  have  recourse,  in  order  to  exclude  his 
claim,  to  the  irresistible  fact  that  he  did  not  confirm  by  proof 
his  own  theory,  nor  proclaim  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
attract  the  attention  of  the  world.  Certainly,  when  the  doc- 
trine of  a  general  circulation  was  advanced  by  Harvey,  he 
both  announced  it  as  a  paradox,  and  was  not  deceived  in 
expecting  that  it  would  be  so  accounted.  Those  again  who 
strove  to  depreciate  his  originality  sought  intimations  in  the 
writings  of  the  ancients,  and  even  spread  a  rumor  that  he  had 
stolen  the  papers  of  Father  Paul ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that 
they  talked,  like  some  moderns,  of  plagiarism  from  Levasseur 
or  Csesalpin. 

17.  William  Harvey  first  taught  the  circulation  of  the 
His  disco-    blood  in  London  in  1619;   but  his  Exercitatio  de 
very-          Motu  Cordis  was  not  published  till  1628.     He  was 
induced,  as  is  said,  to  conceive  the  probability  of  this  great 
truth  by  reflecting  on  the  final  cause  of  those  valves,  which 
his  master,  Fabricius  de  Aquapendente,  had  demonstrated  in 
the  veins  ;  valves  whose  structure  was  such  as  to  prevent  the 
reflux  of  the  blood  towards  the  extremities.     Fabricius  him- 
self seems  to  have  been  ignorant  of  this  structure,  and  cer- 
tainly of  the  circulation ;  for  he  presumes  that  they  serve  to 
prevent  the  blood  from  flowing  like  a  river  towards  the  feet 
and  hands,  and  from  collecting  in  one  part.     Harvey  followed 

Peripateticse  is  certainly  the  most  resem-  educit,  membranis  eo  ingenio  constitutis. 

bling  a  statement  of  the  entire  truth  that  Vas  igitur  intromitteiis  vena  est  magna 

can  be  found  in  any  writer  before  Harvey,  quidem  in  dextro,  qua}  cava  appellatur ; 

I  transcribe  it  from  Dutens's  Origine  des  parva  autem  in  sinistro  ex  pnhnone  intro- 

D6couvertes,  vol.  ii.  p.  23 :  "  Idcirco  pul-  ducens,  cujus  unica  est  tunica,  ut  caatera- 

mo  per  veuam  arteriis  similem  ex  dextro  rum  venaruni.    Vas  autem  educens  arteria 

cordis  ventriculo  fervidum  hauriens  san-  est  magna  quidem  in  sinistro,  quas  aorta 

guinem,  eumque  per  anastomosin  arteries  appellatur ;    parva  autem    in  dextro   ad 

venali  reddens,  quae  in  sinistrum  cordis  pulmones  derivans,  cujus  similiter  duaa 

ventriculum    tendit,    transmisso    interim,  sunt  tunicae,  ut  in  caeteris  arteriis." 

aere  frigido  per  asperse  arteriae  canales,  In  the  treatise  De  Plantis  we  have  a 

qui  juxta  arteriam  venalem  protenduntur,  similar  but  shorter  passage :  "  Nam  in  ani- 

non    tamen    osculis   communicantes,  ut  malibus    videmus    alimeutum  per  venas 

putavit    Oalenus,    solo    tactu    temperat.  duci  ad  cor  tanquam  ad  officmam  caloris 

Iluic  sanguinis  circulationi  ex  dextro  cor-  insiti,  et  adepta  inibi  ultima  perfectione, 

dis  ventriculo  per  pulmones  in  sinistrum  per  arterias  in  universum  corpus  distri- 

ejusdem  ventriculum  optime  respondent  bui  agente  spiritu,  qui  ex  eodem  alimento 

ea   quac  ex  dissectione  apparent.      Nam  incordegignitur."    I  have  taken  this  from 

duo  suntvasa  in  dextrum  ventriculum  de-  the  article  on  Caesalpin  in  the  Biographic 

sinentia,  duo  etiam  in  sinistrum :  duorum  Universelle. 
autemumuu  intromlttit  tantuin,  alterma 


CHAP.  E.     ITS  ORIGZXALITT  UX JUSTLY  DOUBTED.  421 

his  own  happy  conjecture  by  a  long  inductive  process  of  ex- 
periments on  the  effects  of  ligatures,  and  on  the  observed 
motion  of  the  blood  in  living  animals. 

18.  Portal  has  imputed  to  Harvey  an  unfair  silence  as  to 
Servetus,  Columbus,  Levasseur,  and  Caesalpin,  who  Un:u;tlT 
had  all  preceded  him  in  the  same  track.  Tiraboschi  'oubted  to 
copies  Portal ;  and  Corniani  speaks  of  the  appropria- 
tion of  Csesalpin's  discovery  by  Harvey.  It  may  be  replied, 
that  no  one  can  reasonably  presume  Harvey  to  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  passage  in  Servetus.  But  the  imputation 
of  suppressing  the  merits  of  Columbus  is  grossly  unjust,  and 
founded  upon  ignorance  or  forgetfulness  of  Harvey's  celebrated 
Exercitation.  In  the  prooemium  to  this  treatise,  he  observes, 
that  almost  all  anatomists  have  hitherto  supposed,  with  Galen, 
that  the  mechanism  of  the  pulse  is  the  same  as  that  of  respi- 
ration. But  he  not  less  than  three  times  makes  an  exception 
for  Columbus,  to  whom  he  most  expressly  refers  the  theory 
of  a  pulmonary  circulation.1  Of  Caesalpin  he  certainly  says 
nothing ;  but  there  seems  to  be  no  presumption  that  he  was 
acquainted  with  that  author's  writings.  Were  it  even  true 
that  he  had  been  guided  in  his  researches  by  the  obscure  pas- 
sages we  have  quoted,  could  this  set  aside  the  merit  of  that 
patient  induction  by  which  he  established  his  own  theory  ? 
Caesalpin  asserts  at  best,  what  we  may  say  he  divined,  but  did 
not  know  to  be  true  :  Harvey  asserts  what  he  had  demonstrat- 
ed. The  one  is  an  empiric  in  a  philosophical  sense  ;  the  other, 
a  legitimate  minister  of  truth.  It  has  been  justly  said,  that 
he  alone  discovers  who  proves ;  nor  is  there  a  more  odious 
office  or  a  more  sophistical  course  of  reasoning  than  to  impair 
the  credit  of  great  men,  as  Dutens  wasted  his  erudition  in 
doing,  by  hunting  out  equivocal  and  insulated  passages  from 
older  writers,  in  order  to  depreciate  the  originality  of  the  real 
teachers  of  mankind.2  It  may  indeed  be  thought  wonderful, 

1  "  Paene  omnes  hue  usque  anatomici  bus)  tanto  sanguine  opus  esse  ad  nutritio- 

medici  et  philosophi  supponuut  cum  Ga-  nem  pulmonum,  cum  hoc  vas. vena  videlicet 

leno    eundem    usum  esse  pukus,  quam  arteriosa  fid  est,  arteria  pulmonalis]  ex- 

rei-pirdtionis.'1     But  though  he  certainly  superet    niagnitudine   utrumque  ramum 

claims  the  doctrine  of  a  general  circula-  distributionis    venae    cavae    descendentis 

tiun  as  wholly  his  own,  and  counts  it  a  cruralem."  —  p.  16. 

paradox  which  will  startle  every  one.  he  *  This  is  the  general  character   of  a 

as  expressly  refers  (pp.  38  and  41  of  the  really  learned  and  interesting  work   by 

Exercitatio)   that  of  a  pulmonary  trans-  Durens.    Origine    des  Decouvertes   attri- 

mission  of  the  blood  to  Columbus,  peri-  buees  aux  Modernes.    Justice  is  due  to 

lisximo     doctissimooue    analomifo:     and  those   who  have   first   struck   out.    even 

observes,  in  his  prooemium,  as  an  objec-  without   following  up,  original  ideas  in 

lion  to  the  received   theory,    •'  quomodo  any  science ;   but  not  at  the  expense  of 

probabil*  «st  (uti  notavit  Ruaidiu  Coium-  thoM  who,  generally  without  knowledge 


422  HAKVEY'S  TREATISE  ON  GENERATION.       PART  III 

that  Servetus,  Columbus,  or  Cassalpin  should  not  have  more 
distinctly  apprehended  the  consequences  of  what  they  main- 
tained, since  it  seems  difficult  to  conceive  the  lesser  circulation 
without  the  greater ;  but  the  defectiveness  of  their  views  is 
not  to  be  alleged  as  a  counterbalance  to  the  more  steady  saga- 
city of  Harvey.  The  solution  of  their  falling  so  short  is,  that 
they  were  right,  not  indeed  quite  by  guess,  but  upon  insuffi- 
cient proof;  and  that  the  consciousness  of  this,  embarrassing 
their  nu'nds,  prevented  them  from  deducing  inferences  which 
now  appear  irresistible.  In  every  department  of  philosophy, 
the  researches  of  the  first  inquirers  have  often  been  arrested 
by  similar  causes.1 

19.  Harvey  is   the   author  of  a  treatise   on   generation, 
Harvey's      wherein   he    maintains   that  all   animals,   including 
treatisoon    men,  are  derived  from  an  egg.     In  this  book  we  first 

lon'  find  an  argument  maintained  against  spontaneous 
generation,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animals,  had  been 
generally  received.  Sprengel  thinks  this  treatise  prolix,  and 
not  equal  to  the  author's  reputation.2  It  was  first  published 
in  1651. 

20.  Next  in  importance  to  the  discovery  of  Harvey  is  that 
Lacteais      °^  Asellius  as  to  the  lacteal  vessels.     Eustachius  had 
discovered    observed  the  thoracic  duct  in  a  horse.     But  Asellius, 

JU8'  more  by  chance,  as  he  owns,  than  by  sagacity,  per- 
ceived the  lacteals  in  a  fat  dog  whom  he  opened  soon  after  it 
had  eaten.  This  was  in  1622;  and  his  treatise,  De  Lacteis 

of  what  had  been  said  before,  have  de-  was  supposed  to  produce.  See  Dutens, 
duced  the  same  principles  from  reasoning  vol.  ii.  pp.  8-13.  Mr.  Coleridge  has  been 
or  from  observation,  and  carried  them  out  deceived  in  the  same  manner  by  some 
to  important  consequences.  Pascal  quotes  lines  of  Jordano  Bruno,  which  he  takes  to 
Montaigne  for  the  shrewd  remark,  that  describe  the  circulation  of  the  blood ; 
•we  should  try  a  man  who  says  a  wise  thing,  whereas  they  merely  express  its  movement 
for  wo  may  often  find  that  he  does  not  to  and  fro,  meat  et  remeat,  which  might 
understand  it.  Those  who  entertain  a  be  by  the  same  system  of  vessels, 
morbid  jealousy  of  modern  philosophy  are  1  The  biographer  of  Harvey  in  the 
glad  to  avail  themselves  of  such  hunters  Biographic  Universelle  strongly  vindicates 
intoobscure  antiquity  as  Dutens;  and  they  his  claim.  "  Tous  les  hoiiime?  instruits 
are  seconded  by  all  the  envious,  the  un-  conviennent  aujourd'hui  que  Harvey  est 
candid,  and  by  many  of  the  unreflecting  le  veritable  auteur  de  cette  belle  dicou- 
among  mankind.  With  respect  to  the  verte.  .  .  .  Cesalpin  pres>entoit  la  cirru la- 
immediate  question,  the  passages  which  tion  arterielle,  en  supposant  que  le  sang 
Dutens  has  quoted  from  Hippocrates  and  retourne  des  extremites  au  coeur :  mai* 
Plato  have  certainly  an  appearance  of  ex-  ces  assertions  ne  furent  point  prouvees ; 
pressing  a  real  circulation  of  the  blood  by  elles  ne  se  trouverent  etayees  par  aucuue 
the  words  irepiodoe  and  TreptticpOLievav  experience,  par  aucun  fait ;  et  1'on  pent 
•  L_I~M.  j  o™,.;.,ii,,  /«,»  <Ure  de  Cesalpin  qu'il  divina  presque  la 
atftarof ;  but  others,  and  especially  one  e  d^,^.*^  Ies  loisjlui  ,'ur8nt 

from   Nemesius,  on  which  som°  reliance  totnlement  inconnues  ;    la  dc-couverte  en 

has  been  placed,  mean  nothing  more  than  6tnit  re8Crv.:c  i  (luillaume  Harvey, 

the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  b.ood,  which  j  j^    de  ia  Hedecuie,  iy.  2S#":  Port*L 

the  contraction  and  dilatation  of  the  heart  y_  477 


CBAP.  IX.      OPTICS  — MEDICINE -VAN  HELMONT.  425 

Venis,  was  published  in  1627.1  Harvey  did  not  assent  to  this 
discovery,  and  endeavored  to  dispute  the  use  of  the  vessels ; 
nor  is  it  to  his  honor,  that,  even  to  the  end  of  his  life,  he  dis- 
regarded the  subsequent  confirmation  that  Pecquet  and  Bar- 
tholin  had  furnished.2  The  former  detected  the  common 
origin  of  the  lacteal  and  lymphatic  vessels  in  1647,  though 
his  work  on  the  subject  was  not  published  till  1651.  But 
Olaus  Rudbeck  was  the  first  who  clearly  distinguished  these 
two  kinds  of  vessels. 

21.  Schemer  proved  that  the  retina  is  the  organ  of  sight, 
and  that  the  humors  serve  only  to  refract  the  rays  Optical 
which  paint  the  object  on  the  optic  nerve.     This  was  discoveries 
in  a  treatise  entitled  Oculus,  hoc  est,  Fundamentum  ° 
Opticum,  1619.3     The  writings  of  several  anatomists  of  this 
period,  such  as   Riolan,  Vesting,   Bartholin,  contain  partial 
accessions  to  the  science ;   but  it  seems  to  have  been  less 
enriched  by  great  discoveries,  after  those  already  named,  than 
in  the  preceding  century. 

22.  The  mystical  medicine  of  Paracelsus  continued  to  have 
many  advocates  in  Germany.     A  new  class  of  en-    Medicme. 
thusiasts  sprung  from  the  same  school,  and,  calling    VanHei- 
themselves  Rosicrucians,  pretended  to  cure  diseases    mont' 
by  faith  and  imagination.     A  true  Rosicrucian,  they  held,  had 
only  to  look  on  a  patient  to  cure  him.     The  analogy  of  mag- 
netism, revived  in  the  last  and  present  age,  was  commonly 
employed.4     Of  this  school  the  most  eminent  was  Van  Hel- 
mont,  who  combined  the  Paracelsian  superstitions  with  some 
original  ideas  of  his  own.     His  general  idea  of  medicine  was, 
that  its  business  was  to  regulate  the  archaeus,  an  immaterial 
principle  of  life  and  health ;  to  which,  like  Paracelsus,  he 
attributed  a  mysterious  being  and  efficacy.     The  seat  of  the 
arclueus  is  in  the  stomach ;  and  it  is  to  be  effected  either  by  a 
scheme  of  diet  or  through  the  imagination.     Sprengel  praises 
Van  Helmont  for  overthrowing  many  current  errors,  and  for 
announcing  principles  since  pursued.5     The  French  physicians 

1  Portal,  ii.  461 :     Sprengel,    iv.    201.  force,  or  astrnm,  which  cannot  act  with- 

IViiv^o,  soon  after  thb,  got  the  body  of  a  out  a  body,  but  passes  from  one  to  an- 

man  fresh  hanged  after  a  good  supper,  other.    All  things  in  the  macrocosm  are 

and  had  the  pleasure  of  confirming  the  found  also  in  the  microcosm.    The  inwanl 

discovery   of    Asellius    by  his  own  eyes,  or  astral  man  is  Gabalis.  from  which  the 

Gassendi.  Vita  Peirescii,  p.  1<  i.  science  is  named.     This  Gabalis,  or  iniagi- 

1  Spreugel,  iv.  203.  nation,  is  as  a  magnet  to  external  object*, 

8  Id.  27' .1.  which  it  thus  attracts.     Medicines  act  by 

4  All  in  nature,   says  Croll  of  Hesse,  a  magnetic  force.     Sprengel,  iii.  3G2. 

one  of  the  principal  theosophists  in  me-  e  Vol.  T  p.  22. 
dicine,  i£  living  ;  all  that  .lives  has  its  vital 


424  ORIENTAL  LITERATURE.  PART  HI. 

adhered  to  the  Hippocratic  school,  in  opposition  to  what 
Sprengel  calls  the  Chemiatric,  which  more  or  less  may  be 
reckoned  that  of  Paracelsus.  The  Italians  were  still  re- 
nowned in  medicine.  Sanctorius,  De  Medicina  Statica,  1614, 
seems  the  only  work  to  which  we  need  allude.  It  is  loaded 
with  eulogy  by  Portal,  Tiraboschi,  and  other  writers.1 


SECTION  in. 

On  Oriental  Literature — Hebrew  Learning — Arabic  and  other  Eastern  Languages. 

23.  DURING  no  period  of  equal  length  since  the  revival  of 
Diffusion  of  letters  has  the  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  language 
Hebrew.       been  apparently  so  much  diffused  among  the  literary 
world  as  in  that  before  us.     The  frequent  sprinkling  of  its 
characters  in  works  of  the  most  miscellaneous  erudition  will 
strike  the  eye  of  every  one  who  habitually  consults  them. 
Nor  was  this  learning  by  any  means  so  much  confined  to  the 
clergy  as  it  has  been  in  later  times,  though  their  order  natu- 
rally furnished  the  greater  portion  of  those  who  labored  in  that 
field.     Some  of  the  chief  Hebraists  of  this  age  were  laymen. 
The  study  of  this  language  prevailed  most  in  the  Protestant 
countries  of  Europe ;  and  it  was  cultivated  with  much  zeal  in 
England.     The  period  between  the  last  years  of  Elizabeth 
and  the  Restoration  may,  perhaps,  be  reckoned  that  in  which 
a  knowledge  of  Hebrew  has  been  most  usual   among   our 
divines. 

24.  Upon  this  subject  I  can  only  assert  what  I  collect  to  be 

the  verdict  of  judicious  critics.2  It  seems  that  the 
not  studied  Hebrew  language  was  not  yet  sufficiently  studied  in 
method.68*1  tne  method  most  likely  to  give  an  insight  into  its 

principles,  by  comparing  it  with  all  the  cognate 
tongues,  latterly  called  Semitic,  spoken  in  the  neighboring 
parts  of  Asia,  and  manifestly  springing  from  a  common  source. 

1  Portal,  ii.  391;   Tiraboschi,  xi.  270;  Jenisch,  in  his  preface  to  Meninski's  The- 
Biogr.  Univ.  saurus  (Vienna,  1780),  has  traced  a  sketch 

2  The  fifth  volume  of  Eichhorn's  Ge-  of  the  same  subject.     We  may  have  frust- 
Bchichte  der  Cultur  is  devoted  to  the  pro-  ed  in  some  respects  to  Simon,   Ilistoir* 
gress  of  Oriental  literature  in  Europe,  not  Critique  du  Vieux  Testament.     The  bio- 
very    full   in    characterizing   the  various  graphical  dictionaries,  English  and  French, 
productions  it  mentions,  but  analytically  have  of  course  been  resorted  to. 
arranged,  anil  highly  useful  for  reference. 


CHAP.  IX.  THE  BUXTORFS.  425 

Postal,  indeed,  had  made  some  attempts  at  this  in  the  last 
century,  but  his  learning  \vas  very  slight ;  and  Schindler  pub- 
lished in  1612  a  Lexicon  Pentaglottum,  in  which  the  Arabic, 
as  well  as  Syriac  and  Chaldaic,  were  placed  in  apposition 
with  the  Hebrew  text.  Louis  de  Dieu.  whose  Remarks  on 
all  the  Books  of  the  Old  Testament  were  published  at  Ley- 
den  in  1648,  has  frequently  recourse  to  some  of  the  kindred 
languages,  in  order  to  explain  the  Hebrew.1  But  the  first 
instructors  in  the  latter  had  been  Jewish  rabbis ;  and  the 
Hebraists  of  the  sixteenth  age  had  imbibed  a  prejudice,  not 
unnatural  though  unfounded,  that  their  teachers  were  best 
conversant  with  the  language  of  their  forefathers.2  They  had 
derived  from  the  same  source  an  extravagant  notion  of  the 
beauty,  antiquity,  and  capacity  of  the  Hebrew ;  and,  com- 
bining this  with  still  more  chimerical  dreams  of  a  mystical 
philosophy,  lost  sight  of  all  real  principles  of  criticism. 

25.  The  most  eminent  Hebrew  scholars  of  this  age  were 
the  two  Buxtorfs  of  Basle,  father  and  son,  both  The  Box- 
devoted  to  the  rabbinical  school.  The  elder,  who  torfe- 
had  become  distinguished  before  the  end  of  the  preceding 
century,  published  a  grammar  in  1609,  which  long  continued 
to  be  reckoned  the  best,  and  a  lexicon  of  Hebrew,  Chaldee, 
and  Syriac,  in  1 623,  which  was  not  superseded  for  more  than 
a  hundred  years.  Many  other  works  relating  to  these  three 
dialects,  as  well  as  to  that  of  the  later  Jews,  do  honor  to  the 
erudition  of  the  elder  Buxtorf ;  but  he  is  considered  as  re- 
presenting a  class  of  Hebraists,  which,  in  the  more  compre- 
hensive Orientalism  of  the  eighteenth  century,  has  lost  much 
of  its  credit.  The  son  trod  closely  in  his  father's  footsteps, 
whom  he  succeeded  as  professor  of  Hebrew  at  Basle.  They 
held  this  chair  between  them  more  than  seventy  years.  The 
younger  Buxtorf  was  engaged  in  controversies  which  had  not 
begun  in  his  father's  life-time.  Morin,  one  of  those  learned 
Protestants  who  had  gone  over  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  syste- 
matically labored  to  establish  the  authority  of  those  versions 
which  the  church  had  approved,  by  weakening  that  of  the  text 
which  passed  for  original.3  Hence  he  endeavored  to  show,  — 
though  this  could  not  logically  do  much  for  his  object,  —  that 

1  Simon.  Hist.  Critique  du  Vieux  Tes-  p.  375.    But  Munster,  Fagius.  and  several 

lament,  p.  494.  others,  who  are  found  in  the  Critici  Sacri, 

1  This  was  not  the  ease  with  Luther,  gave  way  to  the  prejudice  in  favor  of  rab- 

who  rejected  the  authority  of  the  rabbis,  binical  opinions,  and  their  commentariM 

ind  thought  none  but  Christians  could  are  consequently  too  Judaical. — p.  496 
understand  the  Old  Testament.    Simon,       »  Simon,  p.  522. 


426  VOWEL-POINTS.  PA*T  EH. 

the  Samaritan  Pentateuch,  then  lately  brought  to  Europe, 
which  is  not  in  a  different  language,  but  merely  the  Hebrew 
written  in  Samaritan  characters,  is  deserving  of  preference 
above  what  is  called  the  Masoretic  text,  from  which  the  Pro- 
testant versions  are  taken.  The  variations  between  these  are 
sufficiently  numerous  to  affect  a  favorite  hypothesis  borrowed 
from  the  rabbis,  but  strenuously  maintained  by  the  generality 
of  Protestants,  that  the  Hebrew  text  of  the  Masoretic  recen- 
sion is  perfectly  incorrupt.1  Morin's  opinion  was  opposed 
by  Buxtorf  and  Hottinger,  and  by  other  writers  even  of  the 
Romish  Church.  It  has,  however,  been  countenanced  by 
Simon  and  Kennicott.  The  integrity  at  least  of  the  Hebrew 
copies  was  gradually  given  up ;  and  it  has  since  been  shown 
that  they  differ  greatly  among  themselves.  The  Samaritan 
Pentateuch  was  first  published  in  1645,  several  years  after 
this  controversy  began,  by  Sionita,  editor  of  the  Parisian 
Polyglott.  This  edition,  sometimes  called  by  the  name  of  Le 
Jay,  contains  most  that  is  in  the  Polyglott  of  Antwerp,  with 
the  addition  of  the  Syriac  and  Arabic  versions  of  the  Old 
Testament. 

26.  An  epoch  was  made  in  Hebrew  criticism  by  a  work  of 

Louis  Cappel,  professor  of  that  language  at  Saumur, 
points  the  Arcanum  Punctuatiouis  Revelatum,  in  1 624.  He 
rejected  ^  maintained  in  this  an  opinion  promulgated  by  Elias 

Levita,  and  held  by  the  first  reformers  and  many 
other  Protestants  of  the  highest  authority,  though  contrary  to 
that  vulgar  orthodoxy  which  is  always  omnivorous,  that  the 
vowel-points  of  Hebrew  were  invented  by  certain  Jews  of 
Tiberias  in  the  sixth  century.  They  had  been  generally 
deemed  coeval  with  the  language,  or  at  least  brought  in  by 
Esdras  through  divine  inspiration.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
such  an  hypothesis  clashed  with  the  prejudices  of  mankind ; 
and  Cappel  was  obliged  to  publish  his  work  in  Holland.  The 
Protestants  looked  upon  it  as  too  great  a  concession  in  favor  of 
the  Vulgate,  which,  having  been  translated  before  the  Masore- 
tic punctuation,  on  Cappel's  hypothesis,  had  been  applied  to 
the  text,  might  now  claim  to  stand  on  higher  ground,  and  was 
not  to  be  judged  by  these  innovations.  After  twenty  years, 
the  younger  Buxtorf  endeavored  to  vindicate  the  antiquity  of 
vowel-points ;  but  it  is  now  confessed  that  the  victory  remained 
with  Cappel,  who  has  been  styled  the  father  of  Hebrew  criti- 

1  Simon,  p.  522 ;  Eichhorn,  T.  464. 


CHAP.  IX.      HEBREW  SCHOLARS  -  CHALDEE  —  SYKIAC.        427 

cism.  His  principal  work  is  the  Critica  Sacra,  published  at 
Paris  in  1650,  wherein  he  still  further  discredits  the  existing 
manuscripts  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  as  well  as  the  Maso- 
retic  punctuation.1 

27.  The  rabbinical  literature,  meaning  as  well  the  Talmud 
and  other  ancient  books,  as  those  of  the  later  ages  Hebrew 
since  the  revival  of  intellectual  pursuits  among  the  scholars- 
Jews  of  Spain  and  the  East,  gave  occupation  to  a  considerable 
class  of  scholars.     Several  of  these  belong  to  England,  such 
as  Ainsworth,  Godwin,  Lightfoot,  Selden,  and  Pococke.     The 
antiquities  of  Judaism  were  illustrated   by    Cunaeus  in   Jus 
Regium  Hebrteorum,  1623,  and  especially  by  Selden,  both  in 
the  Uxor  Hebraica  and  in  the  treatise  JDe  Jure  Naturali  et 
Gentium  juxta  Hebraeos.     But  no  one  has  left  a  more  durable 
reputation   in   this   literature    than    Bochart,    a    Protestant 
minister  at  Caen.     His  Geographia  Sacra,  published  in  1646, 
is  not  the  most  famous  of  his  works,  but  the  only  one  which 
falls  within  this  period.     It  displays  great  learning  and  saga- 
city ;  but  it  was  impossible,  as  has  been  justly  observed,  that 
he  could  thoroughly  elucidate  this  subject  at  a  time  when  we 
knew  comparatively  little  of  modern  Asia,  and  had  few  good 
books  of  travels.     A  similar  observation  might  of  course  be 
applied  to  his  Hierozoicon,   on  the  animals   mentioned   in 
Scripture.     Both  these  works,  however,  were  much  extolled 
in  the  seventeenth  century. 

28.  In  the  Chaldee  and  Syriac  languages,  which  approach 
so  closely  to  Hebrew  that  the  best  scholars  in  the  chaidee 
latter  are  rarely  unacquainted  with    them,   besides  and  Syria* 
the  Buxtorfs,  we  find  Ferrari,  author  of  a  Syriac  lexicon, 
published  at  Rome  in  1622  ;  Louis  de  Dieu  of  Ley  den,  whoso 
Syriac   grammar   appeared  in  1626;   and  the  Syriac  trans- 
lation of  the  Old  Testament  in  the  Parisian  Polyglott,  edited 
by   Gabriel  Sionita,  in    1642.     A  Syriac    college    for    the 
Maronites  of  Libanus  had  been  founded  at  Rome  by  Gregory 
XIII. ;  but  it  did  not  as  yet  produce  any  thing  of  import- 
ance. 

1  Simon,    Eichhorn,    &c.      A   detailed  vowels.     Schultens  was  the  first,  accord 

account  of  this  controversy  ahout  vowel-  ing  to  Dathe,  who  proved  that  neither 

points  between  Cappel  and  the  Buxtorfs  party  could  be  reckoned  wholly  vie  tori 

will  be  found  in  the  12th  volume  of  the  ous.    It  seems,  however,  that  the  point* 

Bibliotheque  Universelle ;  and  a  shorter  now  in  use  are  acknowledged  to  be  com 

•precis   in  Eichhorn's   Einleitung   in  das  paratively  modern.    Dathe,   Prsefatio  ao 

alte  Testament,  vol.  i.  p.  242.  Waltoni  Prolegomena,  Lips.  1777,  p.  27.— 

[It  is  not  universally  agreed,  that  Cappel  1847.] 
was  altogether  iu  the  right;  about  Hebrew 


428  ARABIC  —  ERPENIUS  — GOLIUS.  PART  m. 

29.  But  a  language  incomparably  more  rich  in  literary 
treasures,  and  long  neglected  by  Europe,  bogan  now 
to  take  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  annals  of  learning. 
Scaliger  deserves  the  glory  of  being  the  first  real  Arabic 
scholar ;  for  Postel,  Christman,  and  a  very  few  more  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  are  hardly  worth  notice.  His  friend  Ca- 
saubon,  who  extols  his  acquirements,  as  usual,  very  highly, 
devoted  himself  some  time  to  this  study.  But  Scaliger  made 
use  of  the  language  chiefly  to  enlarge  his  own  vast  sphere  of 
erudition.  He  published  nothing  on  the  subject ;  but  his  col- 
lections became  the  base  of  Rapheling's  Arabic  lexicon,  and 
it  is  said  that  they  were  far  more  extensive  than  what  appears 
in  that  work.  He  who  properly  added  this  language  to  the 
domain  of  learning  was  Erpenius,  a  native  of  Gorcum,  who, 
Er  nius  a*  an  earty  age>  nad  gained  so  unrivalled  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Oriental  languages  as  to  be  appointed 
professor  of  them  at  Ley  den,  in  1613.  He  edited,  the  same 
year,  the  above-mentioned  lexicon  of  Rapheling,  and  published 
a  grammar,  which  might  not  only  be  accounted  the  first  com- 
posed in  Europe  that  deserved  the  name,  but  became  the 
guide  to  most  later  scholars.  Erpenius  gave  several  other 
works  to  the  world,  chiefly  connected  with  the  Arabic  version 
of  the  Scriptures.1  Golius,  his  successor  in  the  Oriental 
Goiius.  chair  at  Leyden,  besides  publishing  a  lexicon  of  the 
language,  which  is  said  to  be  still  the  most  copious, 
elaborate,  and  complete  that  has  appeared,2  and  several  edi- 
tions of  Arabic  writings,  poetical  and  historical,  contributed 
Btill  more  extensively  to  bring  the  range  of  Arabian  literature 
before  the  world.  He  enriched  with  a.  hundred  and  fifty 
manuscripts,  collected  in  his  travels,  the  library  of  Leyden,  to 
which  Scaliger  had  bequeathed  forty.3  The  manuscripts 
belonging  to  Erpenius  found  their  way  to  Cambridge  ;  while, 
partly  by  the  munificence  of  Laud,  partly  by  later  accessions, 
the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford  became  extremely  rich  in  this 
line.  The  much  larger  collection  in  the  Escurial  seems  to 
have  been  chiefly  formed  under  Philip  III.  England  was 
now  as  conspicuous  in  Arabian  as  in  Hebrew  learning.  Sel- 
den,  Greaves,  and  Pococke,  especially  the  last,  who  was  pro- 
bably equal  to  any  Oriental  scholar  whom  Europe  had  hitherto 
produced,  by  translations  of  the  historical  and  philosophical 

1  Biogr.  UniT. 

*  Jenisrh,  Praefatio  in  Meninski  Thesaurus  Linguarnm  Orientalium,  p.  110. 

*  Biogr  Uniy. 


CHAP.  IX.  GEOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY.  429 

writings  of  the  Saracenic  period,  gave  a  larger  compass  to 
general  erudition.1 

30.  The  remaining  languages  of  the  East  are  of  less  impor- 
tance. The  Turkish  had  attracted  some  degree  of  other 
attention  in  the  sixteenth  century :  but  the  first  Eastern 
grammar  was  published  by  Megiser,  in  1612,  a  very  L 
slight  performance ;  and  a  better  at  Paris,  by  Du  Ryer,  in 
1630.2  The  Persic  grammar  was  given  at  Rome  by  Raimon- 
di,  in  1614;  by  Dieu,  at  Leyden,  in  1639;  by  Greaves,  at 
London,  in  1641  and  1649.3  An  Armenian  dictionary,  by 
Rivoli,  1621,  seems  the  only  accession  to  our  knowledge  of 
that  ancient  language  during  this  period.4  Athanasius  Kir- 
cher,  a  man  of  immense  erudition,  restored  the  Coptic,  of 
which  Europe  had  been  wholly  ignorant.  Those  farther  east- 
ward had  not  yet  begun  to  enter  into  the  studies  of  Europe. 
Nothing  was  known  of  the  Indian ;  but  some  Chinese  manu- 
scripts had  been  brought  to  Rome  and  Madrid  as  early  as 
1580  ;  and,  not  long  afterwards,  two  Jesuits,  Roger  and  Ricci, 
both  missionaries  in  China,  were  the  first  who  acquired  a  suffi- 
cient knowledge  of  the  language  to  translate  from  it.5  But 
scarcely  any  further  advance  took  place  before  the  middle  of 
the  century. 


SECTION  IV. 

On  Geography  and  History. 

31.  PURCHAS,  an  English  clergyman,  imbued  by  nature, 
like  Hakluyt,  with  a  strong  bias  towards  geographi-  purchas's 
cal  studies,  after  having  formed  an  extensive  library  ^sr™- 
in  that  department,  and  consulted,  as  he  professes,  above  1,200 
authors,  published  the  first  volume  of  his  Pilgrim,  a  collection 
of  voyages  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  in  1613:  four  more 
followed  in  1625.  The  accuracy  of  this  useful  compiler  has 
been  denied  by  those  who  have  had  better  means  of  know- 
ledge, and  probably  is  inferior  to  that  of  Hakluyt ;  but  his 
labor  was  far  more  comprehensive.  The  Pilgrim  was,  at  all 

1  Jenisch  ;  Eichhorn  ;  Biogr.  Uniyerselle  ;  Biogr.  Britannica. 
«  Echhorn,  T.  367.  »  Id.,  320  •  Id.,  351.  •  Id.,  84. 


430  OLEARIUS  AND  PIETRO  BELLA  VALLE.      PAET  IIL 

events,  a  great  source  of  knowledge  to  the  contemporaries  of 
Purchas.1 

32.  Olearius  was  ambassador  from  the  Duke  of  Holstein  to 
oiearius      Muscovy   and   Persia  from   1633   to   1639.      His 
and  Pietro  travels,  in   German,  were  published  in  1647,  and 

Ule'  have  been  several  times  reprinted  and  translated. 
He  has  well  described  the  barbarism  of  Russia  and  the  despo- 
tism of  Persia;  he  is  diffuse  and  episodical,  but  not  weari- 
some ;  he  observes  well  and  relates  faithfully ;  all  who  have 
known  the  countries  he  has  visited  are  said  to  speak  well  of 
him.2  Pietro  della  Valle  is -a  far  more  amusing  writer.  He 
has  thrown  his  travels  over  Syria  and  Persia  into  the  form  of 
letters  written  from  time  to  time,  and  which  he  professes  to 
have  recovered  from  his  correspondents.  This  perhaps  is  not 
a  very  probable  story,  both  on  account  of  the  length  of  the 
letters,  and  the  want  of  that  reference  to  the  present  time  and 
to  small  passing  events,  which  such  as  are  authentic  com- 
monly exhibit.  His  observations,  however,  on  all  the  coun- 
tries he  visited,  especially  Persia,  are  apparently  consistent 
with  the  knowledge  we  have  obtained  from  later  travellers. 
Gibbon  says  that  none  have  better  observed  Persia ;  but  his 
vanity  and  prolixity  are  insufferable.  Yet  I  think  that  Della 
Valle  can  hardly  be  reckoned  tedious ;  and  if  he  is  a  little 
egotistical,  the  usual  and  almost  laudable  characteristic  of 
travellers,  this  gives  a  liveliness  and  racy  air  to  his  narrative. 
What  his  wife,  the  Lady  Maani,  an  Assyrian  Christian,  whom 
he  met  with  at  Bagdad,  and  who  accompanied  him  through  his 
long  wanderings,  may  really  have  been,  we  can  only  judge 
from  his  eulogies  on  her  beauty,  her  fidelity,  and  her  courage ; 
but  she  throws  an  air  of  romance  over  his  adventures,  not 
unpleasing  to  the  rea  ^er.  The  travels  of  Pietro  della  Valle 
took  place  from  1614  to  1626;  but  the  book  was  first  pub- 
lished at  Rome  in  165<  and  has  been  translated  into  different 
languages. 

33.  The  Lexicon  Geographicum  of  Ferrari,  in  1627,  was 
Lexicon  of    the  chief  general  work  on  geography :  it  is  alphabeti- 
Ferrari.       g^  3^  contains  9,600  articles.     The   errors   have 
been  corrected  in  later  editions,  so  that  the  first  would  proba- 
bly be  required  in  order  to  estimate  the  knowledge  of  ita 
author's  age.3 

1  Biogr.  Univ. ;   Pinkerton's  Collection       *  Biogr.  Universelle. 
of  Voyages  and  Travels.     The  latter  does        «  Salfl,  zi.  418 ;  Biogr.  Universe!!*. 
cut  value  Purchas  highly  for  correctness. 


CIIAP.  IX.          BLAEW  — DAVILA  — BENTIVOGLIO.  431 

34.  The  best  measure,  perhaps,  of  geographical  science,  are 
the  maps  published  from  time  to  time,  as  perfectly  Maps  of 
for  the  most  part,  we  may  presume,  as  their  editors  Blaew- 
could  render  them.     If  we  compare  the  map  of  the  world  in 
the  Theatrum  Orbis  Terrarum  sive  Novus  Atlas  of  Blaew 
in  1 648  with  that  of  the  edition  of  Ortelius  published  at  Ant- 
werp in  1612,  the  improvements  will  not  appear  exceedingly 
great.     America  is  still  separated  from  Asia  by  the  Straits  of 
Anian,  about  lat.  60 ;  but  the  coast  to  the  south  is  made  to 
trend  away  more  than  before :   on  the  N.  E.  coast  we  find 
Davis's  Sea,  and   Estotiland   has   vanished   to   give  way  to 
Greenland.     Canada  continues  to  be  most  inaccurately  laid 
down,  though  there  is  a  general   idea   of  lakes   and   rivers 
better  than  in  Ortelius.     Scandinavia  is  far  better,  and  tolera- 
bly correct.     In  the  South,  Terra  del  Fuego  terminates  in 
Cape  Horn,  instead  of  being  united  to  Terra  Australis :  but, 
in  the  East,  Corea  appears  as  an  oblong  island ;   the  Sea  of 
Aral  is  not  set  down,  and  the  Wall  of  China  is  placed  north 
of  the  fiftieth  parallel.     India  is  very  much  too  small,  and  the 
shape  of  the  Caspian  Sea  is  wholly  inaccurate.     But  a  com- 
parison with  the  map  of  Hakluyt,  mentioned  in  our  second 
volume,  will  not  exhibit  so  much  superiority  of  Blaew's  Atlas. 
The  latter,  however,  shows  more  knowledge  of  the  interior 
country,  especially  in  North  America,  and  a  better  outline  in 
many  parts  of  the  Asiatic  coast.     The   maps   of  particular 
regions   in   Europe   are   on   a  large   scale,   and  numerous. 
Speed's  maps,  1 646,  appear  by  no  means  inferior  to  those  of 
Blaew ;  but  several  of  the  errors  are  the  same.     Considering 
the  progress  of  commerce,  especially  that  of  the  Dutch,  during 
this  half-century,  we  may  rather  be  surprised  at  the  defective 
state  of  these  maps. 

35.  Two  histories  of  general  reputation  were  published  in 
the  Italian  language  during  these  fifty  years :   one,  Daviia  and 
of  the  civil  wars  in  France  by  Davila,  in  1630;  and  Bentivogiio. 
another,  of  those  in  Flanders  by  Cardinal  Bentivogiio.     Both 
of  these  had  the  advantage  of  interesting  subjects :  they  had 
been  sufficiently  conversant  with  the  actors   to  know  much 
and  to  judge  well,  without  that  particular  responsibility  which 
tempts  an  historian  to  prevarication.     They  were  both  men 
of  cool  and  sedate  tempers,  accustomed  to  think  policy  a  game 
in  which  the  strong  play  with  the  weak ;   obtuse,  especially 
the  former,  in  moral  sentiment;  but,  on  this  account,  not 


432  MENDOZA'S  WAES  OF  GRANADA.  PART  HL 

inclined  to  calumniate  an  opposite  party,  or  to  withhold  admi- 
ration from  intellectual  power.  Both  these  histories  may  be 
read  over  and  over  with  pleasure :  if  Davila  is  too  refined,  if 
he  is  not  altogether  faithful,  if  his  style  wants  the  elegance 
of  some  older  Italians,  he  more  than  redeems  all  this  by  the 
importance  of  his  subject,  the  variety  and  picturesqueness  of 
his  narration,  and  the  acuteness  of  his  reflections.  Bentivog- 
lio  is  reckoned,  as  a  writer,  among  the  very  first  of  his  age. 

36.  The  history  of  the  War  of  Granada,  that  is,  the  rebel- 

Mendoza's    ^on  °^  tne  Moriscos  in  1565,  by  the  famous  Diego 

wars  of       de  Mendoza,  was  published  posthumously  in  1G10. 

It  is  placed  by  the  Spaniards  themselves  on  a  level 

with  the  most  renowned  of  the  ancients.      The  French  have 

now  their  first  general  historian,  Mezeray,  a  writer 

'eray'  esteemed  for  his  lively  style  and  bold  sense,  but  little 
read,  of  course,  in  an  age  like  the  last  or  our  own,  which  have 
demanded  an  exactness  in  matter  of  fact,  and  an  extent  of 
English  historical  erudition,  which  was  formerly  unknown, 
historians.  ^e  now  began,  in  England,  to  cultivate  historical 
composition,  and  with  so  much  success,  that  the  present  period 
was  far  more  productive  of  such  works  as  deserve  remem- 
brance than  a  whole  century  that  next  followed.  But  the  most 
English  considerable  of  these  have  already  been  mentioned. 
histories.  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury's  History  of  Henry  VIII. 
ought  here  to  be  added  to  the  list,  as  a  book  of  good  authori- 
ty, relatively  at  least  to  any  that  preceded,  and  written  in  a 
manly  and  judicious  spirit.1  Camden's  Life  of  Elizabeth  is 
also  a  solid  and  valuable  history.  Bacon's  Life  of  Henry 
VII.  is  something  more :  it  is  the  first  instance  in  our  lan- 
guage of  the  application  of  philosophy  to  reasoning  on  public 
events  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients  and  the  Italians.  Praise 
upon  Henry  is  too  largely  bestowed :  but  it  was  in  the  nature 
of  Bacon  to  admire  too  much  a  crafty  and  selfish  policy ;  and 
he  thought  also,  no  doubt,  that  so  near  an  ancestor  of  his  own 
sovereign  should  not  be  treated  with  severe  impartiality. 

1  [Lord  Herbert's  Life  of  Henry  VTTI.  he  wrote  any  part  is  not  clear.    Wood'i 

was  composed  with  great  assistance  from  Athenae  Oxonienses  (Bliss's  edition),  yd. 

Thomas    Masters,    of    a    Gloucestershire  iii.  p.  79.  — 1853.] 
family,  who  collected  materials :  whether 


CHAP.  DL          GENERAL  STATE  OF  LITERATURE.  433 

SECTION  V. 

On  the  General  State  of  Literature. 

37.  OF  the  Italian  and  other  Continental  universities,  we 
have  little  to  say  beyond  what  may  be  collected  from  universi- 
the  general  tenor  of  this  literary  history,  that  they  ties- 
contributed  little  to  those  departments  of  knowledge  to  which 
we  have  paid  most  attention,  and,  adhering  pertinaciously  to 
their  ancient  studies,  were  left  behind  in  the  advance  of  the 
human   mind.      They  were,  indeed,  not   less   crowded  with 
scholars  than  before,  being  the  necessary  and  prescribed  road 
to  lucrative  professions.     In  theology,  law,  and  medicine,  — 
sciences  the  two  former  of  which,  at  least,  did  not  claim  to  be 
progressive,  —  they  might  sustain  a  respectable  posture:   in 
philosophy,  and  even  in  polite  letters,  they  were  less  promi- 
nent. 

38.  The  English  universities  are,  in  one  point  of  view,  very 
different  from  those  of  the  rest  of  Europe.     Their  Bodie!an 
great  endowments  created  a  resident  class,  neither  library 
teachers  nor  students,  who  might  devote  an  unbroken    ( 
leisure  to  learning  with  the  advantage  of  that  command  of 
books  which  no  other  course  of  life  could  have  afforded.     It 
is  true  that  in  no  age  has  the  number  of  these  been  great; 
but  the  diligence  of  a  few  is  enough  to  cast  a  veil  over  the 
laziness  of  many.     The  century  began  with  an  extraordinary 
piece  of  fortune  to  the  University  of  Oxford,  which  formed  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  whatever  it  may  since  have  been,  one 
great  cause  of  her  literary  distinction.      Sir  Thomas  Bodley, 
with  a  munificence  which  has  rendered  his  name  more  immor- 
tal than  the  foundation  of  a  family  could  have  done,  bestowed 
on  the  university  a  library  collected  by  him  at  great  cost, 
building  a  magnificent  room  for  its  reception,  and  bequeathed 
large  funds  for  its  increase.     The  building  was  completed  in 
1606 ;  and  Casaubon  has,  very  shortly  afterwards,  given  such 
an  account  of  the  university  itself,  as  well  as  of  the  Bodleian 
Library,  as  will  perhaps  be  interesting  to  the  reader,  though  it 
contains  some  of  those  mistakes  into  which  a  stranger  is  apt 
to  fall. 

39.  "  I  wrote  you  word,"  he  says  in  July,  1613,  to  one  of 

VOL.  in.          28 


434  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD.  PART  ID. 

his  correspondents,  u  a  month  since,  that  I  was  going  to  Ox- 
,    ford  in  order  to  visit  that  university  and  its  library, 

Casaubon's      f  •   •%•  m  •, ,     ,  .          ,  ,        -r,         J   ,  .  ,, 

account  of  ot  which  1  had  heard  much.  Every  thing  proved  be- 
Oxford.  yond  my  expectation.  The  colleges  are  numerous, 
most  of  them  very  rich.  The  revenues  of  these  colleges  main- 
tain above  two  thousand  students,  generally  of  respectable 
parentage,  and  some  even  of  the  first  nobility  ;  for  what  we 
call  the  habits  of  pedagogues  (pcedagogica  vitce  ratio)  is  not 
found  in  these  English  colleges.  Learning  is  here  cultivated 
in  a  liberal  style  ;  the  heads  of  houses  live  handsomely,  even 
splendidly,  like  men  of  rank.  Some  of  them  can  spend  ten 
thousand  livres  [about  £1,000  at  that  time,  if  I  mistake  not] 
by  the  year.  I  much  approved  the  mode  in  which  pecuniary 
concerns  are  kept  distinct  from  the  business  of  learning.1 
Many  still  are  found,  who  emulate  the  liberality  of  their 
predecessors.  Hence  new  buildings  rise  every  day  ;  even 
some  new  colleges  are  raised  from  the  foundation  ;  some  are 
enlarged,  such  as  that  of  Merton,  over  which  Saville  presides, 
and  several  more.  There  is  one  begun  by  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
which,  if  it  should  be  completed,  will  be  worthy  of  the  greatest 
admiration.  But  he  left  at  his  death  many  buildings,  which 
he  had  begun,  in  an  unfinished  state,  and  which  no  one 
expects  to  see  complete.  None  of  the  colleges,  however, 
attracted  me  so  much  as  the  Bodleian  Library,  a  work 
rather  for  a  king  than  a  private  man.  It  is  certain  that 
Bodley,  living  or  dead,  must  have  expended  200,000  livres 
on  that  building.  The  ground-plot  is  the  figure  of  the  let- 
ter T.  The  part  which  represents  the  perpendicular  stem 
was  formerly  built  by  some  prince,  and  is  very  handsome : 
the  rest  was  added  by  Bodley  with  no  less  magnificence. 
In  the  lower  part  is  a  divinity  school,  to  which  perhaps 
nothing  in  Europe  is  comparable.  It  is  vaulted  witli  pecu- 
liar skill.  The  upper  story  is  the  library  itself,  very  well 
built,  and  fitted  with  an  immense  quantity  of  books.  Do 
not  imagine  that  such  plenty  of  manuscripts  can  be  found 
here  as  in  the  Royal  Library  (of  Paris)  :  there  are  not 
a  few  manuscripts  in  England,  but  nothing  to  what  the 
king  possesses.  But  the  number  of  printed  books  is  won- 
derful, and  increasing  every  year ;  for  Bodley  has  be- 
queathed a  considerable  revenue  for  that  purpose.  As  long 

1  "  Res  studiosorum  et  rationes  separatee  sunt,  quod  valde  probavi."     I  havt 
given  the  trauBlation  which  seemed  beet ;  but  I  may  be  mistaken. 


CHAP.  IX.     BODLEIAN  AND  CONTINENTAL  LIBRARIES.       435 

as  I  remained  at  Oxford,  I  passed  whole  days  in  the 
library;  for  books  cannot  be  taken  out,  but  the  library  is 
open  to  all  scholars  for  seven  or  eight  hours  every  day. 
You  might  always  see,  therefore,  many  of  these  greedily 
enjoying  the  banquet  prepared  for  them,  which  gave  me  no 
small  pleasure."1 

40.  The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  Selden,  and  above  all,  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  greatly  improved  the  Bodleian  Library.      It 
became,  especially  through  the  munificence  of  that  prelate, 
extremely   rich    in    Oriental   manuscripts.      The    Duke   of 
Buckingham  presented  a  collection  made  by  Erpenius  to  the 
public  library  at  Cambridge,  which,  though  far  behind  that 
of  the  sister  university,  was  enriched  by  many  donations,  and 
became  very  considerable.     Usher  formed  the  library  of  Tri- 
nity College,  Dublin ;  an  university  founded  on  the  English 
model,  with  noble  revenues,  and  a  corporate  body  of  fellows 
and  scholars  to  enjoy  them. 

41.  A  catalogue  of  the  Bodleian  Library  was  published  by 
James  in  1620.     It  contains  about  20,000  articles.  c&talo<rQO 
Of  these,  no  great  number  are  in  English,  and  such  of  Bodleian 
as  there  are  chiefly  of  a  later  date  than  the  year   l 

1 600 :  Bodley,  perhaps,  had  been  rather  negligent  of  poetry 
and  plays.  The  editor  observes,  that  there  were  in  the  library 
three  or  four  thousand  volumes  in  modern  languages.  This 
catalogue  is  not  classed,  but  alphabetical ;  which  James  men- 
tions as  something  new,  remarking  at  the  same  time  the 
difficulty  of  classification,  and  that  in  the  German  catalogues 
we  find  grammars  entered  under  the  head  of  philosophy. 
One  published  by  Draud,  Bibliotheca  Classica,  sive  Cata- 
logus  Officinalis,  Frankfort,  1625,  is  hardly  worth  mention. 
It  professes  to  be  a  general  list  of  printed  books  ;  but,  as  the 
number  seems  to  be  not  more  than  30,000,  all  in  Latin,  it 
must  be  very  defective.  About  two-fifths  of  the  whole  are 
theological.  A  catalogue  of  the  library  of  Sion  College, 
founded  in  1631,  was  printed  in  1650:  it  contains  eight  or 
nine  thousand  volumes.2 

42.  The  library  of  Leyden  had  been  founded  by  the  first 
Prince  of  Orange.     Scaliger  bequeathed  his  own  to  continental 
it;  and  it  obtained  the  Oriental  manuscripts  of  Golius.  libraries. 
A  catalogue  had  been  printed  by  Peter  Bertius  as  early  as 
1597.3     Many  public  and  private  libraries  either  now  began 

>  Casaub.  EpLst.  899.       *  In  Museo  JBritannico.       »  Jugler,  ffist.  Litteraria,  o.  8- 


436  ITALIAN  ACADEMIES.  PART  111. 

to  be  formed  in  France,  or  received  great  accessions ;  among 
the  latter,  those  of  the  historian  De  Thou,  and  the  president 
Seguier.1  No  German  library,  after  that  of  Vienna,  had 
been  so  considerable  as  one  formed  in  the  course  of  seve- 
ral ages  by  the  Electors  Palatine  at  Heidelberg.  It  con- 
tained many  rare  manuscripts.  On  the  capture  of  the  city 
by  Tilly  in  1622,  he  sent  a  number  of  these  to  Rome;  and 
they  long  continued  to  sleep  in  the  recesses  of  the  Vatican. 
Napoleon,  emulous  of  such  a  precedent,  obtained  thirty-eight 
of  the  Heidelberg  manuscripts  by  the  Treaty  of  Tolentino, 
which  were  transmitted  to  Paris.  On  the  restitution  of  these 
in  1815,  it  was  justly  thought  that  prescription  was  not  to  be 
pleaded  by  Rome  for  the  rest  of  the  plunder,  especially  when 
she  was  recovering  what  she  had  lost  by  the  same  right  of 
spoliation  ;  and  the  whole  collection  has  been  replaced  in  the 
library  of  Heidelberg. 

43.  The  Italian  academies  have  been  often  represented  as 
Italian  partaking  in  the  alleged  decline  of  literary  spirit  dur- 
academies.  ing  the  first  part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Nor  is 
this  reproach  a  new  one.  Boccalini,  after  the  commencement 
of  this  period,  tells  us  that  these  institutions  once  so  famous 
had  fallen  into  decay ;  their  ardent  zeal  in  literary  exercises 
and  discussions  having  abated  by  time,  so  that,  while  they 
had  once  been  frequented  by  private  men,  and  esteemed  by 
princes,  they  were  now  abandoned  and  despised  by  all. 
They  petition  Apollo,  therefore,  in  a  chapter  of  his  Rag- 
guagli  di  Parnasso,  for  a  reform.  But  the  god  replies,  that 
all  things  have  their  old  age  and  decay,  and  as  nothing  can 
prevent  the  neatest  pair  of  slippers  from  wearing  out,  so 
nothing  can  rescue  academies  from  a  similar  lot;  hence  he 
can  only  advise  them  to  suppress  the  worst,  and  to  supply 
their  places  by  others.2  If  only  such  a  counsel  were  required, 
the  institution  of  academies  in  general  would  not  peri  si  i. 
And,  in  fact,  we  really  find  that  while  some  societies  of  this 
class  came  to  nothing,  as  is  always  the  case  with  self-consti- 
tuted bodies,  the  seventeenth  century  had  births  of  its  own  to 
boast,  not  inferior  to  the  older  progeny  of  the  last  age.  The 
Academy  of  Humorists  at  Rome  was  one  of  these.  It  arose 
casually  at  the  marriage  of  a  young  nobleman  of  the  Mancini 
family,  and  took  the  same  line  as  many  have  done,  reciting 
verses  and  discourses,  or  occasionally  representing  plays. 

1  J  ugler,  Hist.  Litteraria  c.  3.  *  Kagg.  xviii.  o.  1. 


CHAP.  IX.  THE  LDTCEI.  437 

The  tragedy  of  Demetrius,  by  Eocco,  one  of  this  academy, 
is  reckoned  among  the  best  of  the  age.  The  Apatisti  of  Flo- 
rence took  their  name  from  Fioretti,  who  had  assumed  the 
appellation  of  Udeno  Nisielo,  Academico  Apatista.  The 
Rozzi  of  Siena,  whom  the  government  had  suppressed  in 
1568,  revived  again  in  1605,  and  rivalled  another  society  of 
the  same  city,  the  Intronati.  The  former  especially  dedicated 
their  time  to  pastoral  in  the  rustic  dialect  (commedia  rusti- 
cale),  a  species  of  dramatic  writing  that  might  amuse  at  the 
moment,  and  was  designed  for  no  other  end,  though  several  of 
these  farces  are  extant.1 

44.  The  Academy  Delia  Crusca,  which  had  more  solid 
objects  for  the  advantage  of  letters  in  view,  has  been 
mentioned  in  another  place.  But  that  of  the  Lincei, 
founded  by  Frederic  Cesi,  stands  upon  a  higher  ground  than 
any  of  the  rest.  This  young  man  was  born  at  Rome  in  1585, 
son  of  the  Duke  of  Acqua  Sparta,  a  father  and  a  family 
known  only  for  their  pride  and  ignorance.  But  nature  had 
created  in  Cesi  a  philosophic  mind :  in  conjunction  with  a  few 
of  similar  dispositions,  he  gave  his  entire  regard  to  science, 
and  projected  himself,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  an  academy, 
that  is,  a  private  association  of  friends  for  intellectual  pur- 
suits, which,  with  reference  to  their  desire  of  piercing  with 
acute  discernment  into  the  depths  of  truth,  he  denominated 
the  Lynxes.  Their  device  was  that  animal,  with  its  eyes 
turned  towards  heaven,  and  tearing  a  Cerberus  with  its  claws  ; 
thus  intimating  that  they  were  prepared  for  war  against  error 
and  falsehood.  The  church,  always  suspicious,  and  inclined 
to  make  common  cause  with  all  established  tenets,  gave  them 
some  trouble,  though  neither  theology  nor  politics  entered 
into  their  scheme.  This  embraced,  as  in  their  academies, 
poetry  and  elegant  literature  ;  but  physical  science  was  their 
peculiar  object.  Porta,  Galileo,  Colonna,  and  many  other 
distinguished  men,  both  of  Italy  and  the  Transalpine  coun- 
tries, were  enrolled  among  the  Lynxes ;  and  Cesi  is  said  to 
have  framed  rather  a  visionary  plan  of  a  general  combination 
of  philosophers,  in  the  manner  of  the  Pythagoreans,  which 
should  extend  itself  to  every  part  of  Europe.  The  constitu- 
tions of  this  imaginary  order  were  even  published  in  1 624 : 
they  are  such  as  could  not  have  been  realized,  but,  from  the 
organization  and  secrecy  that  seem  to  have  been  their  ele- 

»  Sulfi,  vol.  xii. 


438  PREJUDICE  FOR  ANTIQUITY.  PART  III. 

ments,  might  not  improbably  have  drawn  down  a  prosecution 
upon  themselves,  or  even  rendered  the  name  of  philosophy 
obnoxious.  Cesi  died  in  1630  ;  and  his  Academy  of  Lynxes 
did  not  long  survive  the  loss  of  their  chief.1 

45.  The  tide  of  public  opinion  had  hitherto  set  regularly  in 

one  direction ;  ancient  times,  ancient  learning,  ancient 
for'inti*  wisdom  and  virtue,  were  regarded  with  unqualifics-l 
quity  di-  veneration ;  the  very  course  of  nature  was  hardly 

mimshed.  '  * 

believed  to  be  the  same,  and  a  common  degeneracy 
was  thought  to  have  overspread  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants. 
This  had  been  at  its  height  in  the  first  century  after  the 
revival  of  letters ;  the  prejudice  in  favor  of  the  past,  always 
current  with  the  old,  who  affect  to  dictate  the  maxims  of 
experience,  conspiring  with  the  genuine  lustre  of  classical 
literature  and  ancient  history,  which  dazzled  the  youthful 
scholar.  But  this  aristocracy  of  learning  was  now  assailed 
by  a  new  power  which  had  risen  up  in  sufficient  strength  to 
dispute  the  pre-eminence.  We,  said  Bacon,  are  the  true 
ancients :  what  we  call  the  antiquity  of  the  world  was  but  its 
infancy.  This  thought,  equally  just  and  brilliant,  was  caught 
up  and  echoed  by  many :  it  will  be  repeatedly  found  in  later 
works.  It  became  a  question  whether  the  moderns  had  not 
really  left  behind  their  progenitors ;  and  though  it  has  been 
hinted,  that  a  dwarf  on  a  giant's  shoulders  sees  farther  than 
the  giant,  this  is,  hi  one  sense,  to  concede  the  point  in  dispute.2 

46.  Tassoni  was  one  of  the  first  who  combated  the  estab- 
lished prejudice  by  maintaining  that  modern  times  are  not 
inferior  to  ancient :    it  well  became  his  intrepid  disposition.3 
But  Lancilotti,  an  Italian  ecclesiastic,  and  member  of  several 
academies,  pursued  this  subject  in  an  elaborate  work,  intended 
to  prove,  —  first,  that  the  world  was  neither  morally  worse  nor 
more  afflicted  by  calamities  than  it  had  been  ;  secondly,  that 
the  intellectual  abilities  of  mankind  had  not  degenerated.     It 
bears  the  general  title,  L'Hoggidi,  To-Day ;  and  is  through- 
out a  ridicule  of  those  whom  he  calls  Hoggidiani,  perpetua1 
declaimers  against  the  present  state  of  things.     He  is  a  vei 
copious  and  learned  writer,  and  no  friend  to  antiquity ;  each 
chapter  being  entitled  Disinganno,  and  intended  to  remove 

1  Salfl,  xi.  102 ;  Tiraboschi,  3d.  42,  243.  in  nostros  usns  converses  adjicere  aliquid. 

8  "  Ac    quemadmodum    pygmaeus  hu-  non  supercilia  tollere,  aut  parvi  facere,  quj 

meris  gigantis  inaideus  longius  quam  gigaa  ante  nos  fuerunt,  debemus."  —  Oy  prianua, 

prospicere,  neque  tamen  se  gigante  majo-  Vita  Campanelloe,  p.  15. 
rein  habere  aut  sibi  multum  tribuere  po-        *  Salfi,  xi.  881. 
test,  ita  iios  veterum  laboribus  vigiliisque 


CHAP.  IX.       LANCILOTTI  — HAKEWILL  — BROWNE.  189 

some  false  prejudice.  The  first  part  of  this  work  appeared  in 
1623;  the  second,  after  the  author's  death,  not  till  1658. 
Lancilotti  wrote  another  book,  with  somewhat  a  similar  object, 
entitled  Farfalloni  degl'  Antichi  Istorici,  and  designed  to  turn 
the  ancient  historians  into  ridicule ;  with  a  good  deal  of 
pleasantly,  but  chiefly  on  account  of  stories  which  no  one  in 
his  time  would  have  believed.  The  same  ground  was  taken 
soon  afterwards  by  an  English  divine,  George  Hakewill,  in 
his  Apology,  or  Declaration  of  the  Power  and  Providence  of 
God  in  the  Government  of  the  World,  published  in  1627. 
This  is  designed  to  prove,  that  there  is  not  that  perpetual  and 
universal  decay  in  nature  which  many  suppose.  It  is  an 
elaborate  refutation  of  many  absurd  notions  which  seem  to 
have  prevailed ;  some  believing  that  even  physical  nature,  the 
sun  and  stars,  the  earth  and  waters,  were  the  worse  for  wear. 
A  greater  number  thought  this  true  of  man :  his  age,  his  size, 
his  strength,  his  powers  of  mind,  were  all  supposed  to  have 
been  deteriorated.  Hakewill  patiently  and  learnedly  refuted 
all  this.  The  moral  character  of  antiquity  he  shows  to  be 
much  exaggerated,  animadverting  especially  on  the  Romans. 
The  most  remarkable,  and  certainly  the  most  disputable, 
chapters  are  those  which  relate  to  the  literary  merits  of 
ancient  and  modern  times.  He  seems  to  be  one  of  the  first 
who  ventured  to  put  in  a  claim  for  the  latter.  In  this  he 
anticipates  Wotton,  who  had  more  to  say.  Hakewill  goes 
much  too  far  in  calling  Sidney's  Arcadia  "  nothing  inferior  to 
the  choicest  piece  among  the  ancients  ; "  and  even  thinks  "  he 
should  not  much  wrong  Virgil  by  matching  him  with  Du 
Bartas."  The  learning  shown  in  this  treatise  is  very  exten- 
sive ;  but  Hakewill  has  no  taste,  and  cannot  perceive  any  real 
superiority  in  the  ancients.  Compared  with  Lancilotti,  he  is 
much  inferior  in  liveliness,  perhaps  even  in  learning ;  but  I 
have  not  observed  that  he  has  borrowed  any  thing  from  the 
Italian,  whose  publication  was  but  four  years  earlier. 

47.  Browne's  Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Errors  displays  a  great 
deal  of  erudition,  but  scarcely  raises  a  high  notion   Browne>g 
of  Browne  himself  as  a  philosopher,  or  of  the  state  of    vulgar 
physical  knowledge  in  England.     The  errors  he  in- 
dicates are  such  as  none  but  illiterate  persons,  we  should  think, 
were  likely  to  hold ;  and  I  believe  that  few  on  the  Continent, 
so  late  as  1646,  would  have  required  to  have  them  exploded 
with  such  an  ostentation  of  proof.     Who  did  not  know  that 


440  NICOLAS  PEIEESC.  PART  m. 

the  phoenix  is  a  fable  ?  Browne  was  where  the  learned  in 
Europe  had  been  seventy  years  before,  and  seems  to  have 
been  one  of  those  who  saturate  their  minds  with  bad  books 
till  they  have  little  room  for  any  thing  new  that  is  better.  A 
man  of  so  much  credulity  and  such  an  irregular  imagination 
as  Browne  was  almost  sure  to  believe  in  witchcraft  and  all 
sorts  of  spiritual  agencies.  In  no  respect  did  he  go  in 
advance  of  his  age,  unless  we  make  an  exception  for  his 
declaration  against  persecution.  He  seems  to  have  been  fond 
of  those  trifling  questions  which  the  bad  taste  of  the  school- 
men and  their  contemporaries  introduced ;  as  whether  a  man 
has  fewer  ribs  than  a  woman,  whether  Adam  and  Eve  had 
navels,  whether  Methusaleh  was  the  oldest  man ;  the  prob- 
lems of  children  put  to  adults.  With  a  strong  curiosity  and 
a  real  love  of  truth,  Browne  is  a  striking  instance  of  a  merely 
empirical  mind :  he  is  at  sea  with  sails  and  a  rudder,  but 
without  a  compass  or  log-book ;  and  has  so  little  notion  of 
any  laws  of  nature,  or  of  any  inductive  reasoning  either  as 
to  efficient  or  final  causes,  that  he  never  seems  to  judge  any 
thing  to  be  true  or  false  except  by  experiment. 

48.  In  concluding  our  review  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we 
Life  and  selected  Finelli,  as  a  single  model  of  the  literary 
eharacterof  character,  which,  loving  and  encouraging  knowledge, 

*8C'  is" yet  too  little  distinguished  by  any  writings  to  fall 
naturally  within  the  general  subject  of  these  volumes.  The 
period  which  we  now  bring  to  a  close  will  furnish  us  with  a 
much  more  considerable  instance.  Nicolas  Peiresc  was  born 
in  1580,  of  an  ancient  family  in  Provence,  which  had  for  some 
generations  held  judicial  offices  in  the  Parliament  of  Aix. 
An  extraordinary  thirst  for  every  kind  of  knowledge  charac- 
terized Peiresc  from  his  earliest  youth ;  and  being  of  a  weak 
constitution  as  well  as  ample  fortune,  though  he  retained, 
like  his  family,  an  honorable  post  in  the  parliament,  his  time 
was  principally  devoted  to  the  multifarious  pursuits  of  an 
enlightened  scholar.  Like  Pinelli,  he  delighted  in  the  rari- 
ties of  art  and  antiquity;  but  his  own  superior  genius,  and 
the  vocation  of  that  age  towards  science,  led  him  on  to  a  far 
more  extensive  field  of  inquiry.  We  have  the  life  of  Peiresc 
written  by  his  countryman  and  intimate  friend  Gassendi  ;  and 
no  one  who  has  any  sympathy  with  science  or  with  a  noble 
character  will  read  it  without  pleasure.  Few  books,  indeed, 
of  that  period  are  more  full  of  casual  information. 


CIIAP  IX.     HIS  CHARACTER,  AND  COURSE  OF  LIFE.  441 

49.  Peiresc  travelled  much  in  the  early  part  of  his  life : 
he  was  at  Rome  in  1600,  and  came  to  England  and  Holland 
in  1606.     The  hard  drinking,   even   of  our   learned   men,1 
disconcerted  his  southern  stomach ;  but  he  was  repaid  by  the 
society  of  Camden,  Saville,  and  Cotton.     The  king  received 
Peiresc  courteously,  and  he  was  present  at  the  opening  of 
parliament.     On  returning  to  his  native  province,  he  began  to 
form  his  extensive  collections  of  marbles   and   medals,   but 
especially  of  natural  history  in  every  line.     He  was,  perhaps, 
the  first  who  observed  the  structure  of  zoophytes,  though  he 
seems  not  to  have  suspected  their  animal  nature.     Petrifac- 
tions occupied  much  of  his  time ;  and  he  framed  a  theory  of 
them  which  Gassendi  explains  at  length,  but  which,  as  might 
be  expected,  is  not  the  truth.2     Botany  was  among  his  favor- 
ite studies ;  and  Europe  owes  to  him,  according  to  Gassendi, 
the  Indian  jessamine,  the  gourd  of  Mecca,  the  real  Egyptian 
papyrus,  which  is  not   that   described   by  Prosper  Alpinus. 
He  first  planted  ginger,  as  well  as  many  other  Oriental  plants, 
in  an  European  garden,  and  also  the  cocoa-nut,  from  which, 
however,  he  could  not  obtain  fruit. 

50.  Peiresc  was  not  less  devoted  to  astronomy :  he  had  no 
sooner  heard  of  the  discoveries  of  Galileo  than  he  set  himself 
to  procure  a  telescope,  and  had,  in  the  course  of  the  same 
year,  1610,  the  pleasure  of  observing  the  moons  of  Jupiter. 
It  even  occurred  to  him  that  these  might  serve  to  ascertain 
the  longitude,  though  he  did  not  follow  up  the  idea.     Galileo 
indeed,  with  a  still  more  inventive  mind,  and  with  more  of 
mathematics,  seems  to  have  stood  in  the  way  of  Peiresc.     He 
took,  as  far  as  appears,  no  great   pains   to  publish   his   re- 
searches ;  contenting  himself  with  the  intercourse  of  literary 
men  who  passed  near  him,  or  with  whom  he  could  maintain 
correspondence.     Several  discoveries  are  ascribed  to  him  by 
Gassendi:   of  their  originality  I  cannot  venture   to   decide. 
"  From  his  retreat,"  says  another  biographer,  "  Peiresc  gave 
more  encouragement  to  letters  than  any  prince,  more  even 
than  the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  who,  some  time  afterwards, 
founded  the  French  Academy.     "Worthy  to  have  been  called 
by  Bayle  the  attorney-general  of  literature,  he  kept  always  on 
the  level  of  progressive  science,  published  manuscripts  at  his 
own  expense,  followed  the  labors  of  the  learned  throughout 
Europe,  and  gave  them  an  active  impulse  by  his  ovra  aid." 

»  Gassendi,  Vita  Peiregcii,  p  61.  •  f.  147. 


442  PE1EESC.  PAKT  m. 

Scaliger,  Salmasius,  Holstenius,  Kircher,  Mersenne,  Grotius, 
Valois,  are  but  some  of  the  great  names  of  Europe  whom  he 
assisted  by  various  kinds  of  liberality.1  He  published  nothing 
himself;  but  some  of  his  letters  have  been  collected. 

51.  The  character  of  Pciresc  was  amiable  and  unreserved 
among  his  friends ;  but  he  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  love 
of  knowledge  for  insipid  conversation.  For  the  same  reason, 
his  biographer  informs  us,  he  disliked  the  society  of  women, 
gaining  nothing  valuable  from  the  trifles  and  scandal  upon 
which  alone  they  could  converse.2  Possibly  the  society  of 
both  sexes  at  Aix,  in  the  age  of  Peiresc,  was  such  as,  with  no 
excessive  fastidiousness,  he  might  avoid.  In  his  eagerness 
for  new  truths,  he  became  somewhat  credulous ;  an  error  not 
perhaps  easy  to  be  avoided,  while  the  accumulation  of  facts 
proceeded  more  rapidly  than  the  ascertainment  of  natural 
laws.  But,  for  a  genuine  liberality  of  mind  and  extensive 
attainments  in  knowledge,  very  few  can  be  compared  to 
Peiresc ;  nor,  among  those  who  have  resembled  him  in  this 
employment  of  wealth  and  leisure,  do  I  know  that  any  names 
have  descended  to  posterity  with  equal  lustre,  except  our  two 
countrymen  of  the  next  generation,  who  approached  so  nearly 
to  liis  character  and  course  of  life, — Boyle  and  Evelyn. 

»  Biogr.  Uniyerselle.  *  Gasscndl,  p.  219. 


END  OF  VOL. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO  THE 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


FIFTEENTH,  SIXTEENTH,  AND  SEVENTEENTH 
CENTURIES. 


BY  HENRY  HALLAM,  LL.D.,  F.R.A.S., 

FOREIGN  ASSOCIATE  OF  THE  INSTITUTE  OF  FRANCE. 


VOLUME    IV. 


CONTENTS 


THE     FOURTH     VOLUME. 


PART  IV. 

ON  THB  LITERATURE  OF  THE  SECOND  HALF  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH 
CEXTURY. 


CHAPTER  L 

HI8TOBT   OP  AXCIEST  LITERATURE  IS  EUROPE,   FROM   1650  TO   1700. 


James  Frederic  Gronoviua .  . 
James  Gronovius  ....,, 

Gnevius 

Isaac  Vossius 

Decline  of  German  Learning . 

Spanheim 

Jesuit  Colleges  in  France  .  . 
Port-Royal  Writers :  Lancelot 
Latin  Grammars :  Perizonius 

Delphin  Editions 

Le  Fevre  and  the  Daciers  .    . 
Henry    Valois.      Complaints 
Decay  of  Learning     .    .    . 
English  Learning :  Duport 
Greek  not  much  studied     .    . 


Page 
.  9 
.  10 
.  10 
.  10 
.  10 

.  11 
.  11 
.  11 

.     12 

.     12 

13 

14 
14 
15 


of 


Gataker's  Cinnns  and  Antoninus  16 

Stanley's  Jischylus 16 

Other  English  Philologers  ...  16 

Bentley:  his  Epistle  to  Mill  .    .  17 

Dissertation  on  Phalaris     ...  17 
Disadvantages    of  Scholars    in 

that  Age 19 

Thesauri  of  Graving  and  of  Gro- 
novius    19 

Fahretti 20 

Numismatics:    Spanheim;   Vafl- 

lant 21 

Chronology:  Usher 21 

Pezron 22 

Marsham      ........  23 


CHAPTER  H. 

HISTORY   OF  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE,  FBOM   1650  TO  1700. 


Decline  of  Papal  Influence      .    .  24 
Dispute  of  Louis  XIV.  with  Inno- 
cent XI 24 

Four  Articles  of  16S2      ....  25 

Dupin  on  the  Ancient  Discipline  26 

Dupin's  Ecclesiastical  Library    .  27 


Fleury's  Ecclesiastical  History    .  28 

His  Dissertations 28 

Protestant  Controversy  in  France  28 
Bossuet's  Exposition  of  Catholic 

Faith 28 

His  Conference  with  Claude  .    .  30 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  IV. 


Page 
Correspondence  with  Molanus 

and  Leibnitz 31 

His  Variations  of  Protestant  - 

Churches 32 

Anglican  Writings  against  Popery  33 

Taylor's  Dissuasive 33 

Barrow;  Stillingfleet  ....  34 

Jansenius 34 

Condemnation  of  his  Augustinos 

in  France 35 

And  at  Rome 36 

The  Jansenists  take  a  Distinction  36 

And  are  persecuted 37 

Progress  of  Arminianism  ...  38 

Cpurcelles 38 

Limborch 38 

Le  Clerc 39 

Bancroft's  Fur  Prsedestinatus .  .  39 

Arminianism  in  England  ...  40 

Bull's  Harmonia  Apostolica  .  .  41 

Hammond;  Locke;  Wilkins  .  42 

Socinians  in  England  ....  42 

Bull's  Defensio  Fidei  Nicense .  .  43 


Pag* 

Not  Satisfactory  to  all   .    .    .    .  44 

Mystics 44 

Fenelon 44 

Change  in  the  Character  of  Theo- 
logical Literature 45 

Freedom  of  many  Writings    .    .  46 

Thoughts  of  Pascal 46 

Vindications  of  Christianity  .    .61 
Progress  of  Tolerant  Principles  .  52 
Bayle's  Philosophical  Commen- 
tary        53 

Locke's  Letter  on  Toleration  .    .  53 

French  Sermons 55 

Bourdaloue 56 

Compared  with  Bossuet      ...  56 

Funeral  Discourses  of  Bossuet    .  66 

Flechier 68 

English  Sermons:  Barrow.    .    .  59 

South 60 

Tillotson 60 

Expository  Theology     ....  61 

Pearson  on  the  Cree'd    .    .    .    .  61 

Simon's  Critical  Histories  ...  62 


CHAPTER  HI. 


HISTORY  OF  SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY,  FROM   1650  TO  1700. 


Aristotelian  Metaphysics    ...  63 

Their  Decline.     Thomas  White  .  64 

Logic 64 

Stanley's  History  of  Philosophy .  65 

Gale's  Court  of  Gentiles    ...  66 

( 'udworth's  Intellectual  System  .  66 

Its  Object 67 

Sketch  of  it 67 

Jl  is  Plastic  Nature 68 

His  Account  of  Old  Philosophy  .  68 

1 1  is  Arguments  against  Atheism  69 

More 70 

Gassendi 71 

His  Logic 71 

His  Theory  of  Ideas 72 

And  of  the  Nature  of  the  Soul    .  72 

Distinguishes  Ideas  of  Reflection  74 

AIs=o  Intellect  from  Imagination  .  74 
His    Philosophy    misunderstood 

by  Stewart 76 

Bernier's  Epitome  of  Gassendi   .  77 

Process  of  Cartesian  Philosophy .  78 

La  Forge ;  Regis 79 

Huet's  Censure  of  Cartesianism .  80 

Port-Royal  Logic 81 


Malebranche 84 

His  Style 85 

Sketch  of  his  Theory  ....  86 
Character  of  Malebranche ...  99 
Compared  with  Pascal  ....  100 
Arnauld  on  True  and  False  Ideas  101 

Norris 101 

Pascal 102 

Spinosa's  Ethics 104 

Its  General  Originality  ....  104 
View  of  his  Metaphysical  Theory  105 
Spinosa's  Theory  of  Action  and 

Passion 114 

Character  of  Spinosism  .  .  .115 
Glanvil's  Scepsis  Scientifica  .  .  117 

His  Plus  Ultra 120 

Dalgarno 121 

Wilkins 122 

Locke  on  Human  Understand- 
ing   122 

Its  Merits 122 

Its  Defects 124 

Origin    of  Ideas,  according    to 

Locke 125 

Vague  Use  of  the  Word  "  Idea '    12« 


CONTEXTS  OF  VOL.  IV. 


Page 
An    Error    as    to    Geometrical 

Figure 129 

His  Notions  as  to  the  Soul      .    .  13* 
And  its  Immateriality    ....  138 
His  Love  of  Truth,  and  Origina- 
lity   139 


Defended  in  two  Cases  ....  140 
His  View  of  Innate  Ideas  .    .    .  142 

General  Praise 142 

Locke's  Conduct  of  Understand- 
ing   144 


CHAPTER  IV. 


HISTORY  OF  MORAL  AND   POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  AND   OF  JURIS- 
PRUDENCE,  FROM   1650  TO   1700. 


Casuistry  of  the  Jesuists  .  .  .  146 
Pascal's  Provincial  Letters  .  .  146 
Their  Truth  questioned  by  some  147 
Taylor's  Ehictor  Dubitantium  .  148 
Its  Character  and  Defects  .  .  .  148 
Cudworth's  Immutable  Morality  149 

Nicole ;  La  Placette 150 

Other  Writers 150 

Moral  Svstem  of  Spinosa  .  .  .  151 
Cumberland's  DeLegibus  Naturae  153 
Analysis  of  Prolegomena  .  .  .  154 
His  Theory  expanded  afterwards  157 
Hemarks  on  Cumberland's  The- 
ory   163 

Puflendorf  'a  Law  of  Nature  and 

Nations 165 

Analysis  of  this  "Work  ....  165 
Puft'endorf  and  Paley  compared .  171 

Eochelbucault 172 

La  Bruvere 174 

Education:  Milton's  Tractate  .  175 
Locke  on  Education.  Its  Merits  175 
And  Defects 176 


Fenelon  on  Female  Education  .  181 
Puffendorf  's  Theory  of  Politics  .  183 

Politics  of  Spinosa 187 

His  Theory  of  a  Monarchy  .  .  189 
Amelot  de'la  Houssaye  ....  191 
Harrington's  Oceana  ....  191 
Patriarcha  of  Filmer  ....  192 
Sidney's  Discourses  on  Govern- 
ment   103 

Locke  on  Government  ....  194 
Observations  on  this  Treatise  .  201 
Avis  aux  Retugiez,  perhaps  by 

Bayle 202 

Political  Economists 203 

Muii  on  Foreign  Trade  ....  204 

Child  on  Trade 204 

Locke  on  the  Coin 205 

Statistical  Tracts 206 

Works    of  Leibnitz  on  Roman 

Law 208 

Civil  Jurists:   Godefroy;  Domat  209 

Noodt  on  Usury 210 

Law  of  Nations:  Puffendorf  .     .  210 


CHAPTER  V. 

HISTORY  OF  POETRY,   FROM    1650   TO   1700. 


Improved  Tone  of  Italian  Poetry  211 

Filicaja 211 

Guidi 213 

Menzini 214 

Sal vator  Rosa;  Redi      ....  214 

Other  Poets 215 

Christina's  Patronage  of  Letters  215 
Society  of  Arcadians  .  .  .  .215 
I*a  Fontaine 216 


Character  of  his  Fables.    .    .    .  21<? 
Boileau:  his  Epistles     ....  217 

His  Art  of  Poetry 218 

Comparison  with  Horace   .    .    .219 

The  Lutrin 219 

General  Character  of  his  Poetry  219 
Lyric  Poetry  lighter  than  before  220 

Benserade 220 

Chaulieu 220 


VI 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  IV. 


Pastoral  Poetry 221 

Segrais 221 

Deshoulieres 221 

Fontenelle 221 

Bad  Epic  Poems 222 

German  Poetry 222 

Waller 223 

Butler's  Hudibras 223 

Paradise  Lost :  Choice  of  Subject  224 
Open  to  some  Difficulties  .  .  .  224 

Its  Arrangement 225 

Characters  of  Adam  and  Eve  .  226 
He  owes  less  to  Homer  than  the 

Tragedians 226 

Compared  with  Dante  ....  227 
Elevation  of  his  Style  .  .  .  .228 

His  Blindness 229 

His  Passion  for  Music  ....  230 
Faults  in  Paradise  Lost  .  .  .230 
Its  Progress  to  Fame  ....  230 
Paradise  Regained 231 


Samson  Agonistes 232 

Dryden :  his  Earlier  Poems    .    .  233 
^Ebsolom  and  Achitophel    .    .     .  233 

Mac  Flecknoe 234 

The  Hind  and  Panther  ....  235 

Its  singular  Fable 235 

Its  Reasoning 236 

The  Fables 236 

His  Odes :  Alexander's  Feast      .  237 
His  Translation  of  Virgil  .     .     .237 
Decline  of  Poetry  from  the  Re- 
storation   238 

Some  Minor  Poets  enumerated   .  238 

Latin  Poets  of  Italy 240 

Ceva 240 

Sergardi 240 

Of  France:  Quillet 241 

Menage 241 

Rapin  on  Gardens 241 

Santeul 243 

Latin  Poetry  in  England    .    .    .243 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HISTORY  OF  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE,   FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


Italian  and  Spanish  Drama    .    .  244 
Racine's  first  Tragedies     .    .    .  244 

Andromaque 245 

Britannicus 246 

Berenice 248 

Bajazet 248 

Mithridate 249 

Iphige'nie 250 

Ph<5dre 251 

Esther 251 

Athalie 252 

Racine's  Female  Characters   .    .  253 
Racine  compared  with  Corneille  253 

Beauty  of  his  Style 254 

Thomas  Corneille:  his  Ariane    .  255 

Manlius  of  La  Fosse 255 

Moliere 256 

L'Avare 256 

L'Ecole  des  Femmes      .    .    .       257 

Le  Misanthrope 258 

Les  Femmes  Savantes   ....  259 

Tartuffe 259 

Bourgeois  Gentilhomme ;  George 

Dandin 260 

Character  of  Moliere     ....  261 


Les  Plaideurs  of  Racine     .    .    .  262 

Regnard :  Le  Jouer 262 

His  other  Plays 263 

Quinault;  Boursault 263 

Dancourt 264 

Brueys 264 

Operas  of  Quinault 265 

Revival  of  the  English  Theatre  .  266 
Change  of  Public  Taste     .    .    .266 

Its  Causes 267 

Heroic  Tragedies  of  Dryden  .    .  267 

His  later  Tragedies 268 

Don  Sebastian 268 

Spanish  Friar 2&9 

Otway 270 

Southern 271 

Lee 271 

Congreve 271 

Comedies  of  Charles  II.'s  Reign  271 

Wycherley 272 

Improvement  after  the  Revolution  273 

Congreve 273 

Love  for  Love 274 

His  other  Comedies 274 

Farquhar;  Vanbrugh    ....  275 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  IV. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HISTORY  OF   POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  PROSE,   FRO5I   1650  TO   17CKX 


Low  State  of  Literature  in  Italy  276 

Crescimbeni 276 

Age  of  Louis  XIV.  in  France  .  277 
Fontenelle:  his  Character  .  .  .  278 
His  Dialogues  of  the  Dead  .  .  278 

Those  of  Fenelon 279 

Fontenelle's  Plurality  of  Worlds  279 
His  History  of  Oracles  ....  280 

St.  Evremoud 280 

Madame  de  Se'vigne'  ....  281 
Tl-e  French  Academy  ....  282 

French  Grammars 283 

Bouhours'  Entretiens  d'Ariste  et 

d'Eugene 284 

Attacked  by  Barbier  d'Aucour  .  285 
La  Maniere  de  Bien  Penser  .  .  286 
Rapin's  Reflections  on  Eloquence 

and  Poetry 287 

His  Parallels  of  Great  Men  .  .  287 
Bossu  on  Epic  Poetry  ....  288 
Fontenelle's  Critical*  Writings  .  288 
Preference  of  Freuch  Language 

to  Latin 289 

General  Superiority  of  Ancients 

disputed 289 

Charles  Perrault 289 

Fonteuelle 290 

Boileau's  Defence  of  Antiquity  .  291 
First  Reviews:  Journal  des  S fa- 
vans     .   *. 291 

Reviews  established  by  Bayle    .  293 

And  Le  Clerc 293 

Leipsic  Acts 294 

Bayle's  Thoughts  on  the  Comet .  295 


Page 

His  Dictionary 295 

Baillet;  Morhof 296 

The  Ana . 296 

English  Style  in  this  Period  .     .  297 

Hobbes 298 

Cowley 299 

Evelyn 299 

Dryden 300 

His  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy  .  301 
Improvements  in  his  Style  .  .  301 
His  Critical  Character  ....  302 

Rymer  on  Tragedy 303 

Sir  William  Temple's  Essays     .  303 

Style  of  Locke 304 

Sir  George  Mackenzie's  Essays  .  304 

Andrew  Fletcher 304 

Walton's  Complete  Angler  .  .  305 
Wilkins's  New  World  ....  305 
Antiquity  defended  by  Temple  .  306 
Wotton's  Reflections  .  .  .  .307 
Quevedo's  Visions  .  .  .  .  .  307 
French  Heroic  Romances  .  .  .  308 
Novels  of  Madame  La  Fayette  .  308 
Scarron's  Roman  Comique  .  .  309 

Cyrano  de  Bergerac 310 

Segrais 310 

Perrault 310 

Hamilton 311 

Telemaque  of  Fenelon  .  .  •  .  311 
Deficiency  of  English  Romances  312 

Pilgrim's  Progress 313 

Turkish  Spy 314 

Chiefly  of  English  Origin  .  .  .315 
Swift's  Tale  of  a  Tub  ...  317 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTORY  OF   PHYSICAL  AND  OTHER  LITERATURE,   FROM   1650  TO  1700. 


Reasons  for  omitting  Mathema- 
tics   318 

Academy  del  Cimento  .    .    .     .318 

Royal  Society 319. 

Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris    .  320 

State  of  Chemistry 320 

Becker 321 


Boyle 322 

His  Metaphysical  Works   .    .    .322 
Extract  from  one  of  them  .     .    .  822 
His  Merits  in  Physics  and  Che- 
mistry        323 

General  Character  of -Boyle    .    .  323 
Of  Hooke  and  others     .    .    .    .324 


vm 


CONTENTS  OF  TOL.  IV. 


Page 

Lemery 325 

Slow  Progress  of  Zoology  .    .    .  325 

Before  Kay 326 

His  Synopsis  of  Quadrupeds  .    .  826 

Merits  of  tliis  Work 327 

Redi 327 

Swammerdam 328 

Lister 328 

Comparative  Anatomy  ....  828 

Botany 329 

Jungius 329 

Morison 329 

Ray 330 

Rivinus 831 

Tournefort 832 

Vegetable  Physiology    .    .    .    .833 

Grew 833 

His  Anatomy  of  Plants  .  .  .333 
He  discovers  the  Sexual  System  834 
Camerarius  confirms  this  .  .  .  334 
Predecessors  of  Grew  ....  835 

Malpighi 835 

Early  Notions  of  Geology  .  .  .  335 
Burnet's  Theory  of  the  Earth  .  836 
Other  Geologists 337 


PagB 

Protogsea  of  Leibnitz  ....  837 
Circulation  of  Blood  established  339 

Willis;  Vieussens 339 

Malpighi 340 

Other  Anatomists 340 

Medical  Theories 341 

Polyglot  of  Walton 342 

Hottinger 342 

Spencer 343 

Bochart 343 

Pococke 343 

D'Herbelot 343 

Hyde 843 

Maps  of  the  Sansons  .  .  .  •  344 
De  Lisle's  Map  of  the  World  .  .  345 
Voyages  and  Travels  ....  346 

Historians 346 

De  Solis 346 

Memoirs  of  De  Retz 346 

Bossuet  on  Universal  History  .  347 
English  Historical  Works  .  .  .  347 

Burnet 847 

General  Character  of  17th  Cen- 
tury      348 

Conclusion  ........  848 


INDEX 


849 


INTRODUCTION 


IN  THE  FIFTEENTH,  SIXTEENTH,  AND 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURIES. 


PAET  IV. 

ON  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  SECOND  HALF  OF  THE 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HISTORY  OF  ANCIENT  LITERATURE  IN  EUROPE,  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 

SECTION  I. 

Dutch  Scholars  —  Jesuit  and  Jansenist  Philologers  —  Delphin  Editions— 
•  French  Scholars  —  English  Scholars  —  Bentley. 

1.   THE  death  of  Salmasius,  about  the  beginning  of  thia 
period,  left  a  chasm  in  critical  literature  which  no 


one  was  equal  to  fill.     But  the  nearest  to  this  giant  Frederic 

+     *n  i  -n       i      •       n  •  Gronovius. 

of  philology  was  James  tredenc  Gronovius,  a  na- 
tive of  Hamburg,  but  drawn,  like  several  more  of  his  coun- 
trymen, to  the  universities  of  Holland,  the  peculiarly  learned 
state  of  Europe  through  the  seventeenth  century.  The  prin- 
cipal labors  of  Gronovius  were  those  of  correcting  the  text 
of  Latin  writers  :  in  Greek  we  find  very  little  due  to  him.1 
His  notes  form  an  useful  and  considerable  part  of  those  which 
are  collected  in  what  are  generally  styled  the  Variorum  edi- 
tions, published,  chiefly  after  1660,  by  the  Dutch  booksellers. 

1  Eaillet,  Critiques  Orammairiens,  n.  648  ;  Blount  ;  Biogr.  Unit. 


10  DECLINE  OF  GERMAN  LEARNING.  PART  IV. 

These  contain  selections  from  the  older  critics,  some  of  them, 
especially  those  first  edited,  indifferently  made,  and  often 
mutilated ;  others  with  more  attention  to  preserve  entire  the 
original  notes.  These,  however,  are  for  the  most  part  only 
critical,  as  if  explanatory  observations  were  below  the  notice 
of  an  editor ;  though,  as  Le  Clerc  says,  those  of  Manutius  on 
Cicero's  epistles  cost  him  much  more  time  than  modern  edi- 
tors have  given  to  their  conjectures.1  In  general,  the  Vario- 
rum editions  were  not  greatly  prized,  with  the  exception  of 
those  by  the  two  Gronovii  and  Grsevius.2 

2.  The  place  of  the  elder  Gronovius,  in  the  latter  part  of 
James       "this  present  period,  was  filled  by  his  son.     James 
Gronovius.    Gronovius,  by  indefatigable  labor,  and  by  a  greater 
number  of  editions  which  bear  his  name,  may  be  reckoned,  if 
not  a  greater  philologer,  one  not  less   celebrated   than   his 
father.     He  was  at  least  a  better  Greek  critic;   and  in  this 
language,  though  far  below  those  who  were  about  to  arise, 
and  who  did  in  fact  eclipse  him  long  before  his  death, — Bent- 

.         ley  and  Burman,  —  he  kept  a  high  place  for  several 
years.3     Graevius,  another  German,  whom  the  Dutch 
universities  had  attracted  and  retained,  contributed  to  the  Va- 
riorum editions,  chiefly  those  of  Latin  authors,  an  erudition  not 
less  copious  than  that  of  any  contemporary  scholar. 

3.  The   philological   character  of  Gerard  Vossius  himself, 
Isaac          if  we   might  believe   some  partial  testimonies,  fell 
Vossius.      ghort  of  that  of  his  son  Isaac;   whose  observations 
on  Pomponius  Mela,  and  an  edition  of  Catullus,   did  him 
extraordinary  credit,  and  have  placed  him  among  the  first 
philologers  of  this  age.     He  was  of  a  more  lively  genius,  and 
perhaps  hardly  less  erudition,  than  his  father,  but  with  a  para- 
doxical   judgment,   and   has   certainly  rendered  much   less 
service  to  letters.4    Another  son  of  a  great  father,  Nicolas 
Heinsius,  has  by  none  been  placed  on  a  level  with  him ;  but 
his  editions  of  Prudentius  and  Claudian  are  better  than  any 
that  had  preceded  them. 

4.  Germany  fell  lower  and  lower  in  classical  literature. 
Decline  of    A  writer  as  late  as  1714  complains,  that  only  mod- 
German      ern  books  of  Latin  were  taught  in  the  schools,  and 

mng'     that   the   students  in  the  universities  despised  all 

i  Parrhasiana,  I.  233. 

1  A  list  of  the  Variorum  editions  will  be  found  in  Baillet,  Critiques  Grammairiens, 
n  604. 

»  Baillet,  n  648 ;  Niceron,  ii.  177.  «  Niceron,  vol.  xiii. 


CHAT.  i.  POET-ROYAL  WRITERS.  11 

grammatical  learning.  The  study  "  not  of  our  own  language, 
which  we  entirely  neglect,  but  of  French,"  he  reckons  among 
the  causes  of  this  decay  in  ancient  learning:  the  French 
translations  of  the  classics  led  many  to  imagine  that  the  origi- 
nal could  be  dispensed  with.1  Ezekiel  Spanheim,  <,^_.  . 
envoy  from  the  court  of  Brandenburg  to  that  of 
Louis  XIV.,  was  a  distinguished  exception :  his  edition  of  Ju- 
lian, and  his  notes  on  several  other  writers,  attest  an  extensive 
learning,  which  has  still  preserved  his  name  in  honor.  As 
the  century  drew  nigh  to  its  close,  Germany  began  to  revive : 
a  few  men  of  real  philological  learning,  especially  Fabricius, 
appeared  as  heralds  of  those  greater  names  which  adorn  her 
literary  annals  in  the  next  age. 

5.  The  Jesuits  had  long  been  conspicuously  the  classical 
scholars  of  France ;  in  their  colleges  the  purest  and   ,    , 

T         •      •  i  ft  J6S1 

most  elegant  Latmity  was  supposed  to  be  found ;  fege*  in 
they  had  early  cultivated  these  graces  of  literature,  * 
while  all  polite  writing  was  confined  to  the  Latin  language, 
and  they  still  preserved  them  in  its  comparative  disuse.  "  The 
Jesuits,"  Huet  says,  "  write  and  speak  Latin  well ;  but  their 
style  is  almost  always  too  rhetorical.  This  is  owing  to  their 
keeping  regencies  [an  usual  phrase  for  academical  exercises] 
from  their  early  youth,  which  causes  them  to  speak  inces- 
santly in  public,  and  become  accustomed  to  a  sustained  and 
polished  style,  above  the  tone  of  common  subjects."2  Jou- 
vancy,  whose  Latin  orations  were  published  in  1700,  has  had  no 
equal,  if  we  may  trust  a  panegyrist,  since  Maffei  and  Muretus.8 

6.  The  Jansenists  appeared  ready  at  one  time  to  wrest  this 
palm  from   their   inveterate   foes.     Lancelot   threw   port.Royai 
some   additional   lustre   round    Port   Royal  by  the   writers: 
Latin  and   Greek  grammars,  which  are  more  fre- 
quently called  by  the  name  of  that  famous  cloister  than  by 
his  own.     Both  were  received  with  great  approbation  in  the 
French  schools,  except,  I  suppose,  where  the  Jesuits  predomi- 
nated;  and  their  reputation  lasted  for  many  years.     They 
were  never  so  popular,  though  well  known,  in  this  country. 
"The  public,"  says  Baillet  of  the  Greek  grammar,  which  is 
rather   the   more  eminent  of  the  two,   "bears  witness  that 
nothing  of   its  kind   has  been  more  finished.     The  order  ia 
clear  and  concise.     We  find  in  it  many  remarks,  both  judi« 

1  Burckhardt,  De  Linguae  Latinse  hodie  ncglectee  Causis  Oratio,  p.  31 
2  Huetiana,  p.  71.  8  Biogr  UniT 


12  DELPHIC  EDITIONS 'OF  THE  CLASSICS.      PART  IV 

cious  and  important  for  the  full  knowledge  of  the  language. 
Though  Lancelot  has  chiefly  followed  Caninius,  Sylburgius, 
Sanctius,  and  Vossius,  his  arrangement  is  new,  and  he  has 
selected  what  is  most  valuable  in  their  works."1  In  fact,  he 
professes  to  advance  nothing  of  his  own,  being  more  indebted, 
he  says,  to  Caninius  than  to  any  one  else.  The  method  of 
Clenardus  he  disapproves,  and  thinks  that  of  Ramus  intri- 
cate. He  adopts  the  division  into  three  declensions  ;  but  his 
notions  of  the  proper  meaning  of  the  tenses  are  strangely  con- 
fused and  erroneous.  Several  other  mistakes  of  an  obvious 
nature,  as  we  should  now  say,  will  occur  in  his  syntax ;  and, 
upon  the  whole,  the  Port-Royal  Grammar  does  not  give  us  a 
high  idea  of  the  critical  knowledge  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
as  to  the  more  difficult  language  of  antiquity. 

7.  The  Latin,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been  so  minutely  and 
Latin          laboriously  studied,  that  little  more  than  gleanings 
grammars :  after  a  great  harvest  could  be  obtained.     The  Aris- 

1US'  tarchus  of  Vossius,  and  his  other  grammatical  works, 
though  partly  not  published  till  this  period,  have  been  men- 
tioned in  the  last  volume.  Perizonius,  a  professor  at  Fra- 
neker,  and  in  many  respects  one  of  the  most  learned  of  this 
age,  published  a  good  edition  of  the  Minerva  of  Sanctius  in 
1687.  This  celebrated  grammar  had  become  very  scarce,  as 
well  as  that  of  Scioppius,  which  contained  nothing  but  remarks 
upon  Sanctius.  Perizonius  combined  the  two  with  notes 
more  ample  than  those  of  Scioppius,  and  more  bold  in  dif- 
fering from  the  Spanish  grammarian. 

8.  If  other  editions  of  the  classical  authors  have  been  pre- 
Deiphin       ferred  by  critics,  none,  at  least  of  this  period,  have 
editions.      keen  more  celebrated  than  those  which  Louis  XIV., 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  Duke  de  Montausier,  caused  to  be 
prepared   for  the  use  of  the  Dauphin.     The  object  in  view 
was  to  elucidate  the  Latin  writers,  both  by  a  continual  gloss 
in  the  margin,  and  by  such  notes  as  should  bring  a  copious 
mass  of  ancient  learning  to  bear  on  the  explanation,  not  of 
the  more  difficult  passages  alone,  but  of  all  those  in  which  an 
ordinary  reader  might  require  some  aid.     The  former  of  these 
is  less  useful  and  less  satisfactorily  executed  than  the  latter : 
as  for  the  notes,  it  must  be  owned,  that,  with  much  that  is 
superfluous  even  to  tolerable  scholars,  they  bring  together  a 
great  deal  of  very  serviceable  illustration.     The  choice  of 

»  BaUlct,  n.  714 


CHAP.  I.  TANAQUIL  FABER  — THE  DACIERS.  13 

authors  as  well  as  of  editors  was  referred  to  Huet,  who  fixed 
the  number  of  the  former  at  forty.  The  idea  of  an  index,  on 
a  more  extensive  plan  than  in  any  earlier  editions,  was  also 
due  to  Huet,  who  had  designed  to  fuse  those  of  each  work 
into  one  more  general,  as  a  standing  historical  analysis  of  the 
Latin  language.1  These  editions  are  of  very  unequal  merit, 
as  might  be  expected  from  the  number  of  persons  employed ; 
a  list  of  whom  will  be  found  in  Baillet.2 

9.  Tanaquil  Faber,  thus  better  known  than  by  his  real 
name,  Tanneguy  le  Fevre,  a  man  learned,  animated,  ^  Fevre 
not  fearing  the  reproach  of  paradox,  acquired  a  con-  and  the 
siderable  name  among  French  critics  by  several  edi-  r 
tions,  as  well  as  by  other  writings  in  philology.  But  none 
of  his  literary  productions  were  so  celebrated  as  his  daughter, 
Anne  Le  Fevre,  afterwards  Madame  Dacier.  The  knowledge 
of  Greek,  though  once  not  veiy  uncommon  in  a  woman,  had 
become  prodigious  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.;  and,  when 
this  distinguished  lady  taught  Homer  and  Sappho  to  speak 
French  prose,  she  appeared  a  phoenix  in  the  eyes  of  her 
countrymen.  She  was  undoubtedly  a  person  of  very  rare 
talents  and  estimable  character :  her  translations  are  numer- 
ous, and  reputed  to  be  correct,  though  Niceron  has  observed 
that  she  did  not  raise  Homer  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  were 
not  prejudiced  in  his  favor.3  Her  husband  was  a  scholar  of 
kindred  mind  and  the  same  pursuits.  Their  union  was  face- 
tiously called  the  wedding  of  Latin  and  Greek.  But  each 
of  this  learned  couple  was  skilled  in  both  languages.  Dacier 
was  a  great  translator :  his  Horace  is  perhaps  the  best  known 
of  his  versions;  but  the  Poetics  of  Aristotle  have  done  him 
most  honor.  The  Daciers  had  to  fight  the  battle  of  anti- 
quity against  a  generation  both  ignorant  and  vain-glorious, 
yet  keen-sighted  in  the  detection  of  blemishes,  and  disposed 
to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  fathers,  who  had  been  trampled 
upon  by  pedants,  with  the  help  of  a  new  pedantry,  that  of  the 
court  and  the  mode.  With  great  learning,  they  had  a  com- 
petent share  of  good  sense,  but  not  perhaps  a  sufficiently 
discerning  taste,  or  liveliness  enough  of  style,  to  maintain 
a  cause  that  had  so  many  prejudices  of  the  world  now  enlisted 
against  it.4 

1  Huetiana,  p.  92.  have  been  mentioned  as  the  chef-d'aeuvrt 

2  Critiques  Grammairiens,  n.  605.  of  one  whom  Bentley  calls  fceminarum 
*  [It  has  been  remarked,  that  her  edition     dor.tissima.  — 1847.  J 

of  Calliniachus,  with  critical  notes,  ought  to        4  Baillet ;  Nicerou,  vol.  iii. ;  Bibliotheijua 


14  ENGLISH  LEARNING.  PART  R. 

10.  Henry  Valois  might  have  been  mentioned  before  for 
Henry  Va-     his  edition  of  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  in  1G36,  which 
i°is-  ,          established  his  philological  reputation.    Many  other 

Complaints  ,        .         ,  v  /•       •••    •          /•  n  j        TT 

of  decay  of  works  in  the  same  line  of  criticism  followed.  He 
learning.  js  among  the  great  ornaments  of  learning  in  this 
period.  Nor  was  France  destitute  of  others  that  did  her 
honor.  Cotelier,  it  is -said,  deserved  by  his  knowledge  of  Greek 
to  be  placed  on  a  level  with  the  great  scholars  of  former  times. 
Yet  there  seems  to  have  been  some  decline,  at  least  towards 
the  close  of  the  century,  in  that  prodigious  erudition  which 
had  distinguished  the  preceding  period.  "  For  we  know  no 
one,"  says  Le  Clerc,  about  1699,  "who  equals  in  learning, 
in  diligence,  and  in  the  quantity  of  his  works,  the  Scaligers, 
the  Lipsii,  the  Casaubons,  the  Salmasii,  the  Meursii,  the 
Vossii,  the  Seldens,  the  Gronovii,  and  many  more  of  former 
times." l  Though  perhaps  in  this  reflection  there  was  some- 
thing of  the  customary  bias  against  the  present  generation, 
we  must  own  that  the  writings  of  scholars  were  less  massive, 
and  consequently  gave  less  apparent  evidence  of  industry, 
than  formerly.  But  in  classical  philology,  at  least,  a  better 
day  was  about  to  arise ;  and  the  first  omen  of  it  came  from 
a  country  not  yet  much  known  in  that  literature. 

11.  It  has  been  observed  in  a  former  passage,  that,  while 
English       England  was  very  far  from  wanting  men  of  extensive 
learning:      erudition,  she  had  not  been  at  all  eminent  in  ancient 

or  classical  literature.  The  proof  which  the  absence 
of  critical  writings,  or  even  of  any  respectable  editions,  fur- 
nishes, appears  weighty ;  nor  can  it  be  repelled  by  sufficient 
testimony.  In  the  middle  of  the  century,  James  Duport,  Greek 
professor  at  Cambridge,  deserves  honor  by  standing  almost 
alone.  "  He  appears,"  says  a  late  biographer,  "  to  have  been 
the  main  instrument  by  which  literature  was  upheld  in  this 
university  during  the  civil  disturbances  of  the  seventeenth 
century ;  and,  though  little  known  at  present,  he  enjoyed  an 
almost  transcendent  reputation  for  a  great  length  of  time 
among  his  contemporaries  as  well  as  in  the  generation  which 
immediately  succeeded." 2  Duport,  however,  has  little  claim 
to  this  reputation,  except  by  translations  of  the  writings  of 

Universelle,  x.  295,  xxii.  176,  xxiy.  241,  nombre  des  sarans  d'Hollande.    n  n'est 

261 ;  Biogr.  Univ.  plus  dans  ce  pais-li  des  gens  fails  comme 

1  Parrhasiana,  TO!,  i.  p.  225.     "Jeviens  Jos.  Scaliger,  Baudius,  Heinsius,  Saliiui- 

d'apprendre,"  says  Charles  Patiu  in  one  of  sius,  et  Qrotius."  —  p.  582. 

his  letters,  "qiie  M.  Gronovius  t'.-<t  mort  -  Mnscuni  Criticuin,  vol.  ii.  p.  672  (by 

&  Leydea.    11  restoit  presque  tout  seul  du  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester  and  Bristol). 


CHAP.  I.  GREEK  — GATAKER.  15 

Solomon,  the  Book  of  Job,  and  the  Psalms,  into  Greek  hexa- 
meters ;  concerning  which  his  biographer  gently  intimates, 
that  "  his  notions  of  versification  were  not  formed  in  a  se- 
vere or  critical  school ; "  and  by  what  has  certainly  been 
more  esteemed,  his  Homeri  Gnomologia,  which  Le  Clerc  and 
Bishop  Monk  agree  to  praise,  as  very  useful  to  the  student 
of  Homer.  Duport  gave  also  some  lectures  on  Theophrastus 
about  1656,  which  were  afterwards  published  in  Needham's 
edition  of  that  author.  "  In  tbese,"  says  Le  Clerc,  "  he 
explains  words  with  much  exactness,  and  so  as  to  show  that 
he  understood  the  analogy  of  the  language." 1  "  They  are, 
upon  the  whole,  calculated,"  says  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester, 
"  to  give  no  unfavorable  opinion  of  the  state  of  Greek  learn- 
ing in  the  university  at  that  memorable  crisis." 

12.  It  cannot  be  fairly  said,  that  our  universities  declined 
in  general  learning  under  the  usurpation  of  Crom-   Greek  not 
well.     They  contained,  on  the  contrary,  more  extra-  much 
ordinary  men  than  in  any  earlier   period,  but   not  Btu< 
generally  well  affected  to  the  predominant   power.     Greek, 
however,  seems  not  much  to  have  flourished,  even  immediately 
after  the  Restoration.     Barrow,  who  was  chosen  Greek  pro- 
fessor in  1660,  complains  that  no  one  attended  his  lectures. 
"  I  sit  like  an  Attic  owl,"  he  says,  "  driven  out  from  the  so- 
ciety of  all  other  birds."  2     According  indeed  to  the  scheme  of 
study  retained  from  a  more   barbarous    age,   no   knowledge 
of  the  Greek  language  appears  to  have  been  required  from 
the  students,  as  necessary  for  their  degrees.     And  if  we  may 
believe  a  satirical  Avriter  of  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  but  one 
whose    satire  had  great  circulation  and  was  not  taxed  with 
falsehood,  the  general  state  of  education,  both  in  the  schools 
and  universities,  was  as  narrow,  pedantic,  and  unprofitable  as 
can  be  conceived.3 

13.  We  were   not,  nevertheless,  destitute   of  men   distin- 
guished for  critical  skill,  even   from  the  commencement  of 

1  Bibliotheque  Choisie,  xxv.  18.  about  1680  consisted  of  logic,  ethics,  natu- 

*  See  a  biographical  memoir  of  Barrow  ral    philosophy,   and    mathematics:    the 

prefixed  to  Hughes's  edition  of  his  works,  latter  branch   of  knowledge,   which  was 

This  contains  a  sketch  of  studies  pursued  destined  subsequently  to   take  the   load, 

In  the  University  of  Cambridge  from  the  and  almost  swallow  up  the  rest,  had  then 

twelfth  to  the  seventeenth  century,  brief  but  recently  become  an  object  of  much 

indeed,  but  such  as  I  should  have  been  attention."  —  Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  6. 

glad  to  have  seen  before.  —  p.  62.     No  al-  — 1842.] 

teration  in  the  statutes,   so   far  as   they  3  Eachard's  Grounds  and  Occasions  of 

related  to  study,  was  made  after  the  time  the  Contempt  of  the  Clergy.     This  little 

of  Henry  VIII.  or  Edward  VI.  tract  was  published  in  Iti70,  and  went 

["  The  studies  of  the  Cambridge  schools  through  ten  editions  by  1096. 


16  STANLEY  — ENGLISH  PHILOLOGERS.          PART  IV 

tliis  period.  The  first  was  a  very  learned  divine,  Thomas 
Gataker's  Gataker,  one  whom  a  foreign  writer  has  placed 
cinnus  and  among  the  six  Protestants  most  conspicuous,  in  his 
judgment,  for  depth  of  reading.  His  Cinnus,  sive 
Adversaria  Miscellanea,  pubh'shed  in  1651,  to  which  a  longer 
work,  entitled  Adversaria  Posthuma,  is  subjoined  in  later 
editions,  may  be  introduced  here ;  since,  among  a  far  greater 
number  of  scriptural  explanations,  both  of  these  miscellanies 
contain  many  relating  to  profane  antiquity.  He  claims  a 
higher  place  for  his  edition  of  Marcus  Antoninus  the  next 
year.  This  is  the  earliest  edition,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  of 
any  classical  writer  published  in  England  with  original  anno- 
tations. Those  of  Gataker  evince  a  very  copious  learning; 
and  the  edition  is  still,  perhaps,  reckoned  the  best  that  has 
been  given  of  this  author. 

14.  Thomas   Stanley,  author  of  the  History  of  Ancient 
Stanley's     Philosophy,  undertook   a   more    difficult   task,  and 
.Eschyius.    g^g  in  1663  his  celebrated   edition   of  JEschylus. 
It  was,  as  every  one  has  admitted,  by  far  superior  to  any 
that  had  preceded  it ;  nor  can  Stanley's  real  praise  be  effaced, 
though  it  may  be  diminished,  by  an  unfortunate  charge  that 
has  been  brought  against  him,  of  having  appropriated  to  him- 
self the  conjectures,  most  of  them  unpublished,  of  Casaubon, 
Dorat,  and  Scaliger,  to  the  number  of  at  least  three   hun- 
dred emendations  of  the  text.     It  will  hardly  be  reckoned 
a  proof  of  our  nationality,  that  a  living  English  scholar  was 
the  first  to  detect  and  announce  this  plagiarism  of  a  critic, 
in  whom  we  had  been  accustomed  to  take  pride,  from  these 
foreigners.1     After  these  plumes  have  been  withdrawn,  Stan- 
ley's  ^Eschylus  will   remain   a  great  monument   of  critical 
learning. 

15.  Meric  Casaubon  by  his  notes  on  Persius,  Antoninus, 
other  Eng-  an<^  Diogenes  Laertius ;  Pearson  by  those  on  the  last 
giishphiio-  author,    Gale   on    lamblichus,    Price   on   Apuleius, 

Hudson  by  his  editions  of  Thucydides  and  Josephus, 
Potter  by  that  of  Lycophron,  Baxter  of  Anacreon,  —  attested 
the  progress  of  classical  learning  in  a  soil  so  well  fitted  to 
give  it  nourishment.  The  same  William  Baxter  published 
the  first  grammar,  not  quite  elementary,  which  had  appeared 
in  England,  entitled  De  Analogia,  seu  Arte  Latinae  Lingua 

*  Edinburgh  Review,  xix.  494 ;  Museum  Criticum,  ii.  498  (both  by  the  Bishop  of 
London). 


CHAP.  I.      BENTLEY  —  DISSERTATION  ON  PHAT.ARIS.  17 

Commentarius.  It  relates  principally  to  etymology,  and  to 
the  deduction  of  the  different  parts  of  the  verb  from  a  stem, 
which  he  conceives  to  be  the  imperative  mood.  Baxter  was 
a  man  of  some  ability,  but,  in  the  style  of  critics,  offensively 
contemptuous  towards  his  brethren  of  the  craft. 

16.  We  must  hasten  to  the  greatest  of  English  critics  in 
this,  or  possibly  any  other  age,  —  Richard  Bentley.   B^^y . 
His  first  book  was  the  epistle  to  Mill,  subjoined  to  hiseptstie 
the  latter's  edition  of  the  chronicle  of  John  Malala, 

a  Greek  writer  of  the  Lower  Empire.1  In  a  desultory  and 
almost  garrulous  strain,  Bentley  pours  forth  an  immense  store 
of  novel  learning  and  of  acute  criticism,  especially  on  his  fa- 
vorite subject,  which  was  destined  to  become  his  glory,  —  the 
scattered  relics  of  the  ancient  dramatists.  The  style  of  Bent- 
ley,  always  terse  and  lively,  sometimes  humorous  and  dryly 
sarcastic,  whether  he  wrote  in  Latin  or  in  English,  could  not 
but  augment  the  admiration  which  his  learning  challenged. 
Grasvius  and  Spanheim  pronounced  him  the  rising  star  of 
British  literature ;  and  a  correspondence  with  the  former 
began  in  1692,  which  continued  in  unbroken  friendship  till 
his  death. 

17.  But  the  rare  qualities  of  Bentley  were  more  abundantly 
displayed,  and  before  the  eyes  of  a  more  numerous  Dissertation 
tribunal,  in  his  famous  dissertation  on  the  epistles  on  Phalaris- 
ascribed  to  Phalaris.     This  was  provoked,  in  the  first  instance, 
by  a  few  lines  of  eulogy  on  these  epistles  by  Sir  "William 
Temple,  who  pretended  to  find  in  them  indubitable  marks  of 
authenticity.     Bentley,  in  a  dissertation  subjoined  to  Wotton's 
Reflections  on  Modern  and  Ancient  Learning,  gave  tolerably 
conclusive  proofs  of  the  contrary.      A  young  man  of  high 
family  and  respectable  learning,  Charles  Boyle,  had  published 
an  edition  of  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris,  with  some  reflection  on 
Bentley  for  personal  incivility ;  a  charge  which  he  seems  to 
have  satisfactorily  disproved.     Bentley  animadverted  on  this 
in  his  dissertation.     Boyle,  the  next  year,  with  the  assistance 
of  some  leading  men  at  Oxford,  Aldrich,  King,  and  Atterbury, 
published  his  Examination  of  Bentley's  Dissertation  on  Pha- 
laris;   a  book   generally  called,  in   familiar   brevity,  Boyle 

1  [I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Dyce  for  re-  deed,  appear  to  have  been  written  by  John 

minding  me.  that  Mill  only  superintended  Gregory,  whom  Bishop  Monk  calls  "  a  man 

the  publication  of  Malala ;  the  prolego-  of  prodigious  learning,"  not  long  before 

mena  having  been  written  by  Hody.  the  the  Ciyil  War.  See  a  full  account  of  this 

notes  and  Latin  translation  by  Chilmead,  edition  of  Malala  in  Life  of  Bentley,  i.  25 

in  the  reign  of  Churlea  I.  The  notes,  in-  — 1S47.J 

VOL.   IV.  2 


18  PHALARIS.  PART  IT 

against  Bentley.1  The  Cambridge  giant  of  criticism  replied 
in  an  answer  which  goes  by  the  name  of  Bentley  against 
Boyle.  It  was  the  first  great  literary  war  that  had  been 
waged  in  England ;  and,  like  that  of  Troy,  it  has  still  the  pre- 
rogative of  being  remembered,  after  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris 
are  almost  as  much  buried  as  the  walls  of  Troy  itself.  Both 
combatants  were  skilful  in  wielding  the  sword :  the  arms  of 
Boyle,  in  Swift's  language,  were  given  him  by  ah1  the  gods ; 
but  his  antagonist  stood  forward  in  no  such  figurative  strength, 
master  of  a  learning  to  which  nothing  parallel  had  been 
known  in  England,  and  that  directed  by  an  understanding 
prompt,  discriminating,  not  idly  sceptical,  but  still  farther 
removed  from  trust  in  authority,  sagacious  in  perceiving  cor- 
ruptions of  language,  and  ingenious,  at  the  least,  in  removing 
them;  with  a  style  rapid,  concise,  amusing,  and  superior  to 
Boyle  in  that  which  he  had  chiefly  to  boast,  a  sarcastic  wit.2 

18.  It  may  now  seem  extraordinary  to  us,  even  without 
looking  at  the  anachronisms  or  similar  errors  which  Bentley 
has  exposed,  that  any  one  should  be  deceived  by  the  Epistles 
of  Phalaris.  The  rhetorical  commonplaces,  the  cold  declama- 
tion of  the  sophist,  the  care  to  please  the  reader,  the  absence 
of  that  simplicity  with  which  a  man  who  has  never  known 
restraint  in  disguising  his  thoughts  or  choosing  his  words  is 
sure  to  express  himself,  strike  us  in  the  pretended  letters  of 
this  buskined  tyrant,  the  Icon  Basilice  of  the  ancient  world. 
But  this  was  doubtless  thought  evidence  of  their  authenticity 
by  many  who  might  say,  as  others  have  done,  in  a  happy  vein 
of  metaphor,  that  they  seemed  "  not  written  with  a  pen,  but 
with  a  sceptre."  The  argument  from  the  use  of  the  common 
dialect  by  a  Sicilian  tyrant,  contemporary  with  Pythagoras,  is 
of  itself  conclusive,  and  would  leave  no  doubt  in  the  present 
day. 

1  "  The  principal  share  In  the  nnder-  that  of  school-boys,  and  not  always  sum- 
taking  fell  to  the  lot  of  Atterbury :   this  cient  to  preserve  them  from  distressing  mis- 
was  suspected  at  the  time,  and  has  since  takes.    But  profound  literature  was  at  that 
been  placed  beyond  all  doubt  by  the  pub-  period  confined  to  few,  while  wit  and  rail- 
lication  of  a  letter  of  his  to  Boyle." —  lery  found  numerous  and  eager  readers. 
Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  69.  It  may  be  doubtful  whether  Busby  him- 

2  "In  point  of  classical  learning,  the  self,  by  whom  every  one  of  the  confede- 
joint  stock  of  the  confederacy  bore  no  pro-  rated  band  had  been  educated,  po- 
portion  to  that  of  Bentley :  their  acquaint-  knowledge    which  would   have   qu:ili!i.>  1 
ance  with  several  of  the  books  upon  which  him  to  enter  the  lists  in  such  a  contro- 
they  comment  appears  only  to  have  begun  versy." — Monk's  Bentley,  p.  69.     War- 
upon  that  occasion,  and  sometimes  they  burton  has  justly  said,  that  Bentley  by  his 
are  indebted  for  their  knowledge  of  them  wit  foiled  the  Oxford  men  at  their  own 
to   their   adversary ;    compared   with   his  weapons. 

boundless   erudition,  their    learning  was 


CHAP.  I.    THESAUEI  OF  GR^YIUS  AND  GROXOYITJS.  19 

19.  "It  may  be  remarked,"  says  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester, 
"that  a  scholar  at  that  time  possessed  neither  the 
aids  nor  the  encouragements  which  are  now  presented  tages  of0" 
to  smooth  the  paths  of  literature.  The  grammars  of 
the  Latin  and  Greek  languages  were  imperfectly  and 
erroneously  taught ;  and  the  critical  scholar  must  have  felt 
severely  the  absence  of  sumcient  indexes,  particularly  of  the 
voluminous  scholiasts,  grammarians,  and  later  writers  of 
Greece,  in  the  examination  of  which  no  inconsiderable  por- 
tion of  a  life  might  be  consumed.  Bentley,  relying  upon  his 
own  exertions  and  the  resources  of  his  own  mind,  pursued  an 
original  path  of  criticism,  in  which  the  intuitive  quickness  and 
subtilty  of  his  genius  qualified  him  to  excel.  In  the  faculty 
of  memory,  so  important  for  such  pursuits,  he  has  himself 
candidly  declared  that  he  was  not  particularly  gifted.  Conse- 
quently he  practised  throughout  life  the  precaution  of  noting 
in  the  margin  of  his  books  the  suggestions  and  conjectures 
which  rushed  into  his  mind  during  their  perusal.  To  this 
habit  of  laying  up  materials  in  store,  we  may  partly  attribute 
the  surprising  rapidity  with  which  some  of  his  most  important 
works  were  completed.  He  was  also  at  the  trouble  of  con- 
structing for  his  own  use  indexes  of  authors  quoted  by  the 
principal  scholiasts,  by  Eustathius  and  other  ancient  commen- 
tators, of  a  nature  similar  to  those  afterwards  published  by 
Fabricius  in  his  Bibliotheca  Grasca ;  which  latter  were  the 
produce  of  the  joint  labor  of  various  hands."1 


SECT.  n.  —  ON  ANTIQUITIES. 

Qraeyius  and  Gronovius  —  Fabretti  —  Numismatic  Writers  —  Chronology. 

20.  THE  two  most  industrious  scholars  of  their  time,  Grse- 
vius  and  Gronovius,  collected  into  one  body  such  of 

,  i  ..  -r,  j    f^        i  Thesauri  of 

the  numerous  treatises  on  Roman  and  Greek  an-  Grserius 
tiquities  as  they  thought  most  worthy  of  preserva-  *ndof . 

3p     .  ./.  -  .,  ,  /       ^         p  Gronovms. 

tion  in  an  uniform  and  accessible  work.    These  form 

the   Thesaurus  Antiquitatum   Romanarum,  by  Graevius,  in 

twelve  volumes ;  the  Thesaurus  Antiquitatum  Gnecarum,  by 

i  Monk's  Ufe  of  Bentley,  p.  12. 


20  FABRETTI.  PABT  IV. 

Gronovius,  in  thirteen  volumes ;  the  former  published  in  1694, 
the  first  volumes  of  the  latter  in  1697.  They  comprehend 
many  of  the  labors  of  the  older  antiquaries  already  comme- 
morated from  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  to  that  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  some  also  of  a  later  date.  Among  these, 
in  the  collection  of  Graevius,  are  a  treatise  of  Albert  Rubens, 
son  of  the  great  painter,  on  the  dress  of  the  Romans,  particu- 
larly the  laticlave  (Antwerp,  1665),  the  enlarged  edition  of 
Octavius  Ferrarius  on  the  same  subject,  several  treatises  by 
Spanheim  and  Ursatus,  and  the  Roma  Antica  of  Nardini, 
published  in  1666.  Gronovius  gave  a  place  in  his  twelfth 
volume  (1702)  to  the  very  recent  work  of  a  young  English- 
man, Potter's  Antiquities,  which  the  author,  at  the  request  of 
the  veteran  antiquary,  had  so  much  enlarged,  that  the  Latin 
translation  in  Gronovius  is  nearly  double  in  length  the  first 
edition  of  the  English.1  The  warm  eulogies  of  Gronovius 
attest  the  merit  of  this  celebrated  work.  Potter  was  but 
twenty-three  years  of  age :  he  had  of  course  availed  himself 
of  the  writings  of  Meursius,  but  he  has  also  contributed  to 
supersede  them.  It  has  been  said,  that  he  is  less  exact  in 
attending  to  the  difference  of  times  and  places  than  our  finer 
criticism  requires.2 

21.  Bellori,  in  a  long  list  of  antiquarian  writings,  Falconieri 
in  several  more,  especially  his  Inscriptiones  Athleti- 

Fabretti.  .        .       •,     ,       ,          J     n  -r 

cae,  maintained  the  honor  of  Italy  in  this  province, 
BO  justly  claimed  as  her  own.8  But  no  one  has  been  account- 
ed equal  to  Raphael  Fabretti,  by  judges  so  competent  as 
Maffei,  Gravina,  Fabroni,  and  Visconti.4  His  diligence  in 
collecting  inscriptions  was  only  surpassed  by  his  sagacity 
in  explaining  them ;  and  his  authority  has  been  preferred  to 
that  of  any  other  antiquary.5  His  time  was  spent  in  delving 
among  ruins  and  vaults  to  explore  the  subterranean  treasures 
of  Latium :  no  heat  nor  cold  nor  rain,  nor  badness  of  road, 
could  deter  him  from  these  solitary  peregrinations.  Yet  the 
glory  of  Fabretti  must  be  partly  shared  with  his  horse.  This 
wise  and  faithful  animal,  named  Marco  Polo,  had  acquired,  it 
is  said,  the  habit  of  standing  still,  and  as  it  were  pointing, 
when  he  came  near  an  antiquity ;  his  master  candidly  owning 

1  The  first  edition  of  Potter's  Antiqui-  very  favorable  biographers, — Fabroni.  in 

ties  was  published  in  1697  and  1698.  Vitse  Italorum,  vol.  vi.  ;  and  Viscouti,  hj 

'  Biogr.  Univ.  the  Biographic  Universelle. 

»  Sain,  vol.  xi.  p.  364.  «  Fabroni,  p.  187;  Biogr.  Uniy. 
*  Fabretti's  life  has  been  written  by  two 


CHAP.  I.  XTMISMATICS  —  CHRONOLOGY.  21 

that  several  things  which  would  have  escaped  him  had  been 
detected  by  the  antiquarian  quadruped.1  Fabretti's  principal 
works  are  three  dissertations  on  the  Roman  aqueducts,  and 
one  on  the  Trajan  column.  Little,  says  Fabroni,  was  known 
before  about  the  Roman  galleys  or  their  naval  affairs  in  gene- 
ral.2 Fabretti  was  the  first  who  reduced  lapidary  remains 
into  classes,  and  arranged  them  so  as  to  illustrate  each  other ; 
a  method,  says  one  of  his  most  distinguished  successors,  which 
has  laid  the  foundations  of  the  science.3  A  profusion  of 
collateral  learning  is  mingled  with  the  main  stream  of  all  hia 
investigations. 

22.  No  one  had  ever  come  to  the  study  of  medals  with 
such  stores  of  erudition  as  Ezekiel  Spanheim.     The 
earlier  writers  on  the  subject,  Vico,  Erizzo,  Ange- 

loni,  were  not  comparable  to  him,  and  had  rather 
dwelt  on  the  genuineness  or  rarity  of  coins  than  on 
their  usefulness  in  illustrating  history.  Spanheim's  Disserta- 
tions on  the  Use  of  Medals,  the  second  improved  edition  of 
which  appeared  in  1671,  first  connected  them  with  the  most 
profound  and  critical  research  into  antiquity.4  Vaillant,  tra- 
velling into  the  Levant,  brought  home  great  treasures  of 
Greek  coinage,  especially  those  of  the  Seleucidse  ;  at  once 
enriching  the  cabinets  of  the  curious,  and  establishing  histori- 
cal truth.  Medallic  evidence,  in  fact,  may  be  reckoned 
among  those  checks  upon  the  negligence  of  historians,  that, 
having  been  retrieved  by  industrious  antiquaries,  have  created 
a  cautious  and  discerning  spirit  which  has  been  exercised  in 
later  times  upon  facts,  and  which,  beginning  in  scepticism, 
passes  onward  to  a  more  rational,  and  therefore  more  secure, 
conviction  of  what  can  fairly  be  proved.  Jobert,  in  1692, 
consolidated  the  researches  of  Spanheim,  Vaillant,  and  other 
numismatic  writers,  in  his  book  entitled  La  Science  des 
Medailles,  a  better  system  of  the  science  than  had  been  pub- 
lished.3 

23.  It  would,  of  course,  not  be  difficult  to  fill  these  pages 
with  brief  notices  of  other  books  that  fall  within  the  chronology: 
extensive   range   of  classical   antiquity.      But   we  Csher- 
have  no  space  for   more   than   a  mere   enumeration,  which 
would  give  little  satisfaction.     Chronology  has  received  some 

>  Fabroni,  p.  193  «  Bibl.  Choisie,  Tol.  xxli. 

»  P.  201.  •  Biogr.  OaiT. 

•  Biogr.  UniT 


22  USHER  -  PEZRON.  PART  IV 

attention  in  former  volumes.  Our  learned  Archbishop  Usher 
might  there  have  been  named,  since  the  first  part  of  his 
Annals  of  the  Old  Testament,  which  goes  down  to  the  year 
of  the  world  3828,  was  published  in  1650.  The  second  part 
followed  in  1654.  This  has  been  the  chronology  generally 
adopted  by  English  historians,  as  well  as  by  Bossuet,  Calmet, 
and  Rollin,  so  that  for  many  years  it  might  be  called  the 
orthodox  scheme  of  Europe.  No  former  annals  of  the  world 
had  been  so  exact  in  marking  dates,  and  collating  sacred 
history  with  profane.  It  was  therefore  exceedingly  conve- 
nient for  those,  who,  possessing  no  sufficient  leisure  or  learning 
for  these  inquiries,  might  very  reasonably  confide  in  such 
authority. 

24.   Usher,  like  Scaliger  and  Petavius,  had   strictly  con- 
p  formed  to  the  Hebrew  chronology  in  all  scriptural 

dates.  But  it  is  well  known  that  the  Septuagint 
version,  and  also  the  Samaritan  Pentateuch,  differ  greatly 
from  the  Hebrew  and  from  each  other ;  so  that  the  age  of  the 
world  has  nearly  2,000  years  more  antiquity  in  the  Greek 
than  in  the  original  text.  Jerome  had  followed  the  latter  in 
the  Vulgate ;  and,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  it  was  usual  to 
maintain  the  incorrupt  purity  of  the  Hebrew  manuscripts,  so 
that  when  Pezron,  in  his  Antiquite  des  Temps  devoilee,  1687, 
attempted  to  establish  the  Septuagint  chronology,  it  excited  a 
clamor  in  some  of  his  church,  as  derogatory  to  the  Vulgate 
translation.  Martianay  defended  the  received  chronology, 
and  the  system  of  Pezron  gained  little  favor  in  that  age.1  It 
has  since  become  more  popular,  chiefly  perhaps  on  account 
of  the  greater  latitude  it  gives  to  speculations  on  the  origin  of 
kingdoms  and  other  events  of  the  early  world,  which  are  cer- 
tainly somewhat  cramped  in  the  common  reckoning.  But  the 
Septuagint  chronology  is  not  free  from  its  own  difficulties,  and 
the  internal  evidence  seems  rather  against  its  having  been  the 
original.  Where  two  must  be  wrong,  it  is  possible  that  all 
three  may  be  so ;  and  the  most  judicious  inquirers  into  ancient 
history  have  of  late  been  coming  to  the  opinion,  that,  with 
certain  exceptions,  there  are  no  means  of  establishing  an 
entire  accuracy  in  dates  before  the  Olympiads.  While  much 
of  the  more  ancient  history  itself,  even  in  leading  and  impor- 
tant events,  is  so  precarious  as  must  be  acknowledged,  there 
can  be  little  confidence  in  chronological  schemes.  They  seem, 

1  Biogr.  Unir.,  arts.  "  Pezron  and  Martianay ; »  Bibliothe^ue  Uniy.,  xxiv.  103. 


CHAP.  I.  SIR  JOHN  MARSHAM.  23 

however,  to  be  very  seducing,  so  that  those  who  enter  upon 
the  subject  as  sceptics  become  believers  in  their  own  theory. 

25.  Among  those  who  addressed  their  attention  to  particu- 
lar portions  of  chronology,  Sir  John  Marsham  ought 
to  be  mentioned.  In  his  Canon  Chronicus  JEgyptia- 
cus,  he  attempted,  as  the  learned  were  still  more  prone  than 
they  are  now,  to  reconcile  conflicting  authorities  without 
rejecting  any.  He  is  said  to  have  first  started  the  ingenious 
idea,  that  the  Egyptian  dynasties,  stretching  to  such  immense 
antiquity,  were  not  successive,  but  collateral.1  Marsham  fell, 
like  many  others  after  him,  into  the  unfortunate  mistake  of 
confounding  Sesostris  with  Sesac.  But,  in  times  when  disco- 
veries that  Marsham  could  not  have  anticipated  were  yet  at  a 
distance,  he  is  extolled  by  most  of  those  who  had  labored,  by 
help  of  the  Greek  and  Hebrew  writers  alone,  to  fix  ancient 
history  on  a  stable  foundation,  as  the  restorer  of  the  Egyptian 
flnnq,Ia. 

*  Biogr.  Britannlca. 


24  DECLINE  OF  PAPAL  INFLUENCE.  PART  IV 


CHAPTER  IL 

HISTORY  OF  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Papal  Power  limited  by  the  Galilean  Church  —  Dupin  —  Flenry  —  Protestant  Contro- 
versy —  Bossuet  —  His  Assaults  on  Protestantism  —  Jansenism  —  Progress  of 
Arminianism  in  England  —  Trinitarian  Controversy  —  Defences  of  Christianity 
—  Pascal's  Thoughts  —  Toleration  —  Boyle  —  Locke  —  French  Sermons  —  And 
English  —  Other  Theological  Works. 

1.  IT  has  been  observed  in  the  last  volume,  that,  while 
Decline  of    little  or  no  decline  could  be  perceived  in  the  general 
Papal          Church  of  Rome  at  the  conclusion  of  that  period 

which  we  then  had  before  us,  yet  the  Papal  author- 
ity itself  had  lost  a  part  of  that  formidable  character,  which, 
through  the  Jesuits  and  especially  Bellarmin,  it  had  some 
years  before  assumed.  This  was  now  still  -more  decidedly 
manifest :  the  temporal  power  over  kings  was  not,  certainly, 
renounced,  for  Rome  never  retracts  any  thing ;  nor  was  it 
perhaps  without  Italian  Jesuits  to  write  in  its  behalf:  but  the 
common  consent  of  nations  rejected  it  so  strenuously,  that 
on  no  occasion  has  it  been  brought  forward  by  any  accredited 
or  eminent  advocate.  There  was  also  a  growing  disposition 
to  control  the  court  of  Rome  :  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  was 
concluded  in  utter  disregard  of  her  protest.  But  such  mat- 
ters of  history  do  not  belong  to  us,  when  they  do  not  bear 
a  close  relation  to  the  warfare  of  the  pen.  Some  events 
there  were  which  have  had  a  remarkable  influence  on  the 
theological  literature  of  France,  and  indirectly  of  the  rest  of 
Europe. 

2.  Louis  XIV.,   more  arrogant,  in   his  earlier  life,  than 
Dispute  of    bigoted,  became  involved  in  a  contest  with  Inno- 
JritTinnZ"   cent  XL,  by  a  piece   of  his  usual  despotism  and 
cent  xi.       contempt  of  his  subjects'  rights.     He  extended  in 
1673   the  ancient  prerogative,  called  the  regale,  by  which 


CHAP.  n.  FOUR  ARTICLES  OF  1682.  25 

the  king  enjoyed  the  revenues  of  vacant  bishoprics,  to  all  the 
kingdom,  though  many  sees  had  been  legally  exempt  from 
it.  Two  bishops  appealed  to  the  pope,  who  interfered  in 
their  favor  more  peremptorily  than  the  times  would  per- 
mit. Innocent,  it  is  but  just  to  say,  was  maintaining  the  fair 
rights  of  the  church,  rather  than  any  claim  of  his  own.  But 
the  dispute  took  at  length  a  different  form.  France  was  rich 
in  prelates  of  eminent  worth ;  and  among  such,  as  is  evident, 
the  Cisalpine  theories  had  never  lain  wholly  dormant  since 
the  Councils  of  Constance  and  Basle.  Louis  convened  the 
famous  assembly  of  the  Gallican  clergy  in  1682.  Bossuet, 
who  is  said  to  have  felt  some  apprehensions  lest  the  spirit  of 
resistance  should  become  one  of  rebellion,  was  appointed  to 
open  this  assembly ;  and  his  sermon  on  that  occasion  is  among 
his  most  splendid  works.  His  posture  was  indeed  magnifi- 
cent ;  he  stands  forward  not  so  much  the  minister  of  religion 
as  her  arbitrator ;  we  see  him  poise  in  his  hands  earth  and 
heaven,  and  draw  that  boundary  line  which  neither  was  to 
transgress ;  he  speaks  the  language  of  reverential  love  towards 
the  mother-church,  that  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  fairest  of  her 
daughters  to  which  he  belongs,  conciliating  their  transient 
feud :  yet,  in  this  majestic  tone  which  he  assumes,  no  arrogance 
betrays  itself,  no  thought  of  himself  as  one  endowed  with 
transcendent  influence  ;  he  speaks  for  his  church,  and  yet  we 
feel  that  he  raises  himself  above  those  for  whom  he  speaks.1 

3.  Bossuet  was  finally  intrusted  with  drawing  up  the  four 
articles,  which  the  assembly,  rather  at  the  instiga-  p0urarti- 
tion  perhaps  of  Colbert  than  of  its  own  accord,  pro-  ciesofi682. 
mulgated  as  the  Gallican  Creed  on  the  limitations  of  Papal 
authority.  These  declare,  1.  That  kings  are  subject  to  no 
ecclesiastical  power  in  temporals,  nor  can  be  deposed  directly 
or  indirectly  by  the  chiefs  of  the  church  ;  2.  That  the  decrees 
of  the  Council  of  Constance  as  to  the  Papal  authority  are  iu 
full  force,  and  ought  to  be  observed  ;  3.  That  this  authority 
can  only  be  exerted  in  conformity  with  the  canons  received  in 
the  Gallican  Church ;  4.  That  though  the  pope  has  the 
principal  share  in  determining  controversies  of  faith,  and 
his  decrees  extend  to  all  churches,  they  are  not  absolutely 
final,  unless  the  consent  of  the  Catholic  Church  be  super- 
added.  It  appears  that  some  bishops  would  have  willingly 
used  stronger  language ;  but  Bossuet  foresaw  the  risk  of  an 

i  This  aennon  will  be  found  in  (Euvies  de  Boesuet, '  ol.  U. 


26  DUPIN  ON  ANCIENT  DISCIPLINE.  PART  IV 

absolute  schism.  Even  thus  the  Gallican  Church  approached 
so  nearly  to  it,  that,  the  pope  refusing  the  usual  bulls  to 
bishops  nominated  by  the  king  according  to  the  concordat, 
between  thirty  and  forty  sees  at  last  were  left  vacant.  No 
reconciliation  was  effected  till  1693,  in  the  pontificate  of  Inno- 
cent XII.  It  is  to  be  observed,  whether  the  French  writers 
slur  this  over  or  not,  that  the  pope  gained  the  honors  of  war  ; 
the  bishops,  who  had  sat  in  the  assembly  of  1682,  writing 
separately  letters  which  have  the  appearance  of  regretting,  if 
not  retracting,  what  they  had  done.  These  were,  however, 
worded  with  intentional  equivocation ;  and,  as  the  court  of 
Rome  yields  to  none  in  suspecting  the  subterfuges  of  words, 
it  is  plain  that  it  contented  itself  with  an  exterior  humiliation 
of  its  adversaries.  The  old  question  of  the  regale  was  tacitly 
settled ;  Louis  enjoyed  all  that  he  had  desired ;  and  Rome 
might  justly  think  herself  not  bound  to  fight  for  the  privileges 
of  those  who  had  made  her  so  bad  a  return.1 

4.  The  doctrine  of  the  four  articles  gained  ground  perhaps 
D  in  on  in  the  Church  of  France  through  a  work  of  great 
the  ancient  boldness,  and  deriving  authority  from  the  learning 
and  judgment  of  its  author,  Dupin.  In  the  height 
of  the  contest,  while  many  were  considering  how  far  the  Gal- 
lican Church  might  dispense  with  the  institution  of  bishops 
at  Rome,  that  point  in  the  established  system  which  evidently 
secured  the  victory  to  their  antagonist,  in  the  year  1686,  he 
published  a  treatise  on  the  ancient  discipline  of  the  church. 
It  is  written  in  Latin,  which  he  probably  chose  as  less  obnox- 
ious than  his  own  language.  It  may  be  true,  which  I  cannot 
affirm  or  deny,  that  each  position  in  this  work  had  been 
advanced  before ;  but  the  general  tone  seems  undoubtedly 
more  adverse  to  the  Papal  supremacy  than  any  book  which 
could  have  come  from  a  man  of  reputed  orthodoxy.  It  tends, 
notwithstanding  a  few  necessary  admissions,  to  represent 
almost  all  that  can  be  called  power  or  jurisdiction  in  the  see 
of  Rome  as  acquired,  if  not  abusive,  and  would  leave,  in  a 
practical  sense,  no  real  pope  at  all;  mere  primacy  being 
a  trifle,  and  even  the  right  of  interfering  by  admonition  be- 
ing of  no  great  value,  when  there  was  no  definite  obligation 
to  obey.  The  principle  of  Dupin  is,  that,  the  church  having 

1  I  have  derived  most  of  this  account  prelates  in  1G93.    But,  when  the  Roman 

from  Bausset's  Life  of  Bossuet,  vol.  ii.  legions  had  passed  under  the  yoke  at  tb* 

Both  the  bishop  and  his  biographer  shuffle  Caudine  Forks,  they  were  ready  to  takt 

a  good  deal  about  the  letter  of  the  Galilean  up  arms  agaiu. 


CHAP.  II.  DUPIN.  27 

reached  her  perfection  in  the  fourth  century,  we  should  en- 
deavor, as  far  as  circumstances  will  admit,  to  restore  the 
discipline  of  that  age.  But,  even  in  the  Gallican  Church, 
it  has  generally  been  held  that  he  has  urged  his  argument 
farther  than  is  consistent  with  a  necessary  subordination  to 
Rome.1 

5.  In  the  same  year,  Dupin  published  the  first  volume  of 
a  more  celebrated  work,  his  Nouvelle  Bibliotheque  Dupin,s  1So, 
les  Auteurs  Ecclesiastiques,  a  complete  history  of   cicsiasticai 
theological  literature,  at  least  within  the  limits  of  the   L 
church,  which,  in  a  long  series  of  volumes,  he  finally  brought 
down  to  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.     It  is  unques- 
tionably the  most  standard  work  of  that  kind  extant,  what- 
ever deficiencies  may  have  been  found  in  its  execution.     The 
immense   erudition  requisite  for  such  an  undertaking  must 
\iave  rendered  it  Inevitable  to  take   some   things  at  second 
hand,  or  to  fall  into  some   errors ;   and  we  may  add  other 
causes  less  necessary,  —  the  youth  of  the  writer  in  the  first 
folumes,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  they  appeared.     Integ- 
rity, love  of  truth,   and  moderation,  distinguish  this  ecclesi- 
astical history,  perhaps  beyond  any  other.      Dupin  is  often 
near  the  frontier  of  orthodoxy ;  but  he  is  careful,  even  in  the 
eyes  of  jealous  Catholics,  not  quite  to  overstep    it.      This 
work  was  soon  translated  into  English,  and  furnished  a  large 
part  of  such  knowledge  on  the  subject  as  our  own  divines  pos- 
sessed.    His  free  way  of  speaking,  however,  on  the  Roman 
supremacy  and  some  other  points,  excited  the  animadversion 
of  more  rigid  persons,  and  among  others  of  Bossuet,  who  stood 
on  his  own  vantage-ground,  ready  to  strike  on  every  side.    The 
most  impartial  critics  have  been  of  Dupin's  mind  ;  but  Bos- 
suet,  like  all  dogmatic  champions  of  orthodoxy,  never  sought 
truth  by  an  analytical  process  of  investigation,  assuming  his 
own  possession  of  it  as  an  axiom  in  the  controversy.2 

6.  Dupin  was  followed  a  few  years  afterwards  by  one  not 
his   superior   in   learning   and   candor    (though   deficient   in 
neither),  but  in  skill  of  narration  and  beauty  of  style, —  Claude 

1  Bibliotheciue  Universelle,  vi.  109.    The  de  Bossuet,  vol.  xxx.    Dupin  seems  not 
book  is  very  clear,  concise,  and  learned,  to  have  held  the  superiority  of  bishops  to 
so  that  it  is  worth   reading  through  by  priests  juredivino,  which  provokes  the  pre- 
those  who  would  understand  such  mat-  late  of  Meaux.     •'  Oes  grands  critiques: sont 
ters.     I  have  not  observed  that  it  is  much  peu  favorables  aux  superiorites  ecclesias- 
quoted  by  English  writers.  tiques,  et  n'aiment  guere  plus  ceiins  dos 

2  Bibliotheque  Universelle.  iii.  39,  vii.  evoques  que  celle  du  pape.'1  —  p.  491 
835,  xxii.  120 ;  Biogr.  Universello  ;  USuvres 


28  FLEURY.  PART  IV 

Fleury.  The  first  volume  of  his  Ecclesiastical  History  came 
Fieury's  forth  in  1691;  but  a  part  only  of  the  long  seriee 
Ecciesiasti-  falls  within  this  century.  The  learning  of  Fleury 
'  °ry'  has  been  said  to  be  frequently  not  original,  and  his 
prolixity  to  be  too  great  for  an  elementary  historian.  Tiie 
former  is  only  blamable  when  he  has  concealed  his  imme- 
diate authorities ;  few  works  of  great  magnitude  have  been 
written  wholly  from  the  prime  sources ;  with  regard  to  his 
diffuseness,  it  is  very  convenient  to  those  who  want  access 
to  the  original  writers,  or  leisure  to  collate  them.  Fleury 
has  been  called  by  some,  credulous  and  uncritical;  but  he 
is  esteemed  faithful,  moderate,  and  more  respectful  or  cau- 
tious than  Dupin.  Yet  many  of  his  volumes  are  a  continual 
protest  against  the  vices  and  ambition  of  the  mediaeval  popes ; 
and  his  Ecclesiastical  History  must  be  reckoned  among  the 
causes  of  that  estrangement,  in  spirit  "and  affection,  from 
the  court  of  Rome,  which  leavens  the  theological  literature 
of  France  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

7.  The  Dissertations  of  Fleury,  interspersed  with  his  His- 
His  Dis-       tory,  were  more  generally  read  and  more  conspicu- 
sertations.    ous\y  excellent.     Concise,  but  neither  dry  nor  super- 
ficial ;  luminous,  yet  appearing  simple ;  philosophical  without 
the  affectation  of  profoundity,  seizing  all  that  is  most  essen- 
tial in  their  subject  without  the  tediousness  of  detail  or  the 
pedantry  of  quotation ;  written,  above  all,  with  that  clearness, 
that  ease,  that  unaffected  purity  of  taste,  which  belong  to  the 
French  style  of  that  best  age,  —  they  present  a  contrast  not 
only  to   the   inferior  writings   on  philosophical  history  with 
which  our  age  abounds,  but,  in  some  respects,  even  to  the 
best.     It  cannot  be  a  crime  that  these  Dissertations  contain 
a  good  deal,  which,  after  more  than  a  century's  labor  in  his- 
torical inquiry,  has  become  more  familiar  than  it  was. 

8.  The  French  Protestants,  notwithstanding  their  disarmed 
Protestant    condition,  were  not,  I   apprehend,  much   oppressed 
controversy  under  Richelieu  and  Mazarin.    But,  soon  afterwards, 

an  eagerness  to  accelerate  what  was  taking  place 
through  natural  causes,  their  return  into  the  church,  brought 
on  a  series  of  harassing  edicts,  which  ended  in  the  revoca- 
tion of  that  of  Nantes.  During  this  time  they  were  assailed 
by  less  terrible  weapons,  yet  such  as  required  no  ordinary 
strength  to  resist,  the  polemical  writings  of  the  three  greatest 
men  in  the  church  of  France,  —  Nicole,  Arnauld,  and  Bossuet. 


CHAP,  n.  BOSSUET.  29 

The  two  former  were  desirous  to  efface  the  reproaches  of  an 
approximation  to  Calvinism,  and  of  a  disobedience  to  the 
Catholic  Church,  under  which  their  Jansenist  party  was  labor- 
ing. Nicole  began  with  a  small  treatise,  entitled  La  Perpe- 
tuite  de  la  Foi  de  1'Eglise  Catholique  touchant  I'Eucharistie, 
in  1664.  This  aimed  to  prove  that  the  tenet  of  transubstan- 
tiation  had  been  constant  in  the  church.  Claude,  the  most 
able  controvertist  among  the  French  Protestants,  replied  in 
the  next  year.  This  led  to  a  much  more  considerable  work 
by  Nicole  and  Arnauld  conjointly,  with  the  same  title  as  the 
former  ;  nor  was  Claude  slow  in  combating  his  double-headed 
adversary.  Nicole  is  said  to  have  written  the  greater  portion 
of  this  second  treatise,  though  it  commonly  bears  the  name  of 
his  more  illustrious  colleague.1 

9.  Both  Arnauld  and  Nicole  were  eclipsed  by  the  most 
distinguished  and  successful  advocate  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  Bossuet.  His  Exposition  de  la  Foi  Catho- 
lique  was  written  in  1668,  for  the  use  of  two  brothers 
of  the  Dangeau  family ;  but  having  been  communi- 
cated to  Turenne,  the  most  eminent  Protestant  that  remained 
in  France,  it  contributed  much  to  his  conversion.  It  was 
published  in  1671 ;  and,  though  enlarged  from  the  first  sketch, 
does  not  exceed  eighty  pages  in  octavo.  Nothing  can  be 
more  precise,  more  clear,  or  more  free  from  all  circuity  and 
detail,  than  this  little  book ;  every  thing  is  put  in  the  most 
specious  light ;  the  authority  of  the  ancient  church,  recognized, 
at  least  nominally,  by  the  majority  of  Protestants,  is  alone 
kept  in  sight.  Bossuet  limits  himself  to  doctrines  established 
by  the  Council  of  Trent,  leaving  out  of  the  discussion  not  only 
all  questionable  points,  but,  what  is  perhaps  less  fair,  all  rites 
and  usages,  however  general,  or  sanctioned  by  the  regular  dis- 
cipline of  the  church,  except  so  iar  as  formally  approved  by 
that  council.  Hence  he  glides  with  a  transient  step  over  the 
invocation  of  saints  and  the  worship  of  images,  but  presses 
with  his  usual  dexterity  on  the  inconsistencies  and  weak  con- 
cessions of  his  antagonists.  The  Calvinists,  or  some  of  them, 
had  employed  a  jargon  of  words  about  real  presence,  which  he 
exposes  with  admirable  brevity  and  vigor.2  Nor  does  he  gain 

1  Biogr.  TJnir.  but.  in  that  of  the  Eucharist,  the  contrary 

1  Bossuet  observes,  that  most  other  con-  is  the  case,  since  the  Caliinlsis  endeavor 

trovereies  are  found  to  depend  more  on  to  accommodate  their  phraseology  to  »h« 

words  than  substance,  and  the  difference  Catholic*,  while  essentially  they  differ  — 

becomes  less  the  more  they  are  examined ;  Vol.  xviii.  p.  135- 


30  BOSSUET.  PART  IV 

less  advantage  in  favor  of  tradition  and  church  authority  from 
the  assumption  of  somewhat  similar  claims  by  the  same  party. 
It  has  often  been  alleged,  that  the  exposition  of  Bos.-uet  was 
not  well  received  by  many  on  his  own  side.  And  for  this 
there  seems  to  be  some  foundation,  though  the  Protestant 
controvertists  have  made  too  much  of  the  facts.  It  was  pub- 
lished at  Rome  in  1678,  and  approved  in  the  most  formal 
manner  by  Innocent  XL  the  next  year.  But  it  must  have 
been  perceived  to  separate  the  faith  of  the  church,  as  it  rested 
on  dry  propositions,  from  the  same  faith  living  and  embodied 
in  the  every-day  worship  of  the  people.1 

10.  Bossuet  was  now  the  acknowledged  champion  of  the 
HU  confer-  R°man  Church  in  France :  Claude  was  in  equal  pre- 
ence  with  eminence  on  the  other  side.  These  great  adversaries 
Claude.  j^  a  regujar  conference  in  1678.  Mademoiselle  de 
Duras,  a  Protestant  lady,  like  most  others  of  her  rank  at  that 
time,  was  wavering  about  religion ;  and  in  her  presence  the 
dispute  was  carried  on.  It  entirely  turned  on  church  autho- 
rity. The  arguments  of  Bossuet  differ  only  from  those  which 
have  often  been  adduced,  by  the  spirit  and  conciseness  with 
which  he  presses  them.  We  have  his  own  account,  which  of 
course  gives  himself  the  victory.  It  was  almost  as  much 
of  course  that  the  lady  was  converted ;  for  it  is  seldom  that  a 
woman  can  withstand  the  popular  argument  on  that  side,  when 
she  has  once  gone  far  enough  to  admit  the  possibility  of  its 
truth,  by  giving  it  a  hearing.  Yet  Bossuet  deals  in  sophisms, 
which,  though  always  in  the  mouths  of  those  who  call  them- 
selves orthodox,  are  contemptible  to  such  as  know  facts  as 
well  as  logic.  "  I  urged,"  he  says,  "  in  a  few  words,  what  pre- 
sumption it  was  to  believe  that  we  can  better  understand  the 
word  of  God  than  all  the  rest  of  the  church,  and  that  nothing 
would  thus  prevent  there  being  as  many  religions  as  per- 
sons." 2  But  there  can  be  no  presumption  in  supposing,  that 
we  may  understand  any  thing  better  than  one  who  has 
never  examined  it  at  all :  and  if  this  rest  of  the  church,  so 
magnificently  brought  forward,  have  commonly  acted  on 
Bossuet's  principle,  and  thought  it  presumptuous  to  judge 

i  The  writings  of  Bossuet  against  the  the  exaggerations  of  many  Protestants  as 

Protestants  occupy  nine  rolumes,  xviii.-  to  the  ill  reception  of  this  little  book  at 

xxvi.,  in  the  great  edition  of  his  works,  Rome.     Yet  there  was  a  certain   founda 

Versailles,  181(3.     The  Exposition  de    la  tion  for  them.     See  Bibliotheqiie  Uniyer- 

Poi  is  in  the  eighteenth.     Bausset,  in  his  selle,  vol.  xi.  p.  455. 

Life  of  llossuet,   appears  to  have  rut u ted  *  CEurres  de  Bocisuet,  xxiii.  290. 


CHAP.  n.  BOSSUET.  31 

for  themselves ;  if,  out  of  many  millions  of  persons,  a  few 
only  have  deliberately  reasoned  on  religion,  and  the  rest 
have  been,  like  trne  zeros,  nothing  iu  themselves,  but  much 
in  sequence  ;  if  also,  as  is  most  frequently  the  case,  this  pre- 
sumptuousness  is  not  the  assertion  of  a  paradox  or  novelty,  but 
the  preference  of  one  denomination  of  Christians,  or  of  one 
tenet  maintained  by  respectable  authority,  to  another,  —  we 
can  only  scorn  the  emptiness,  as  well  as  resent  the  effrontery, 
of  this  commonplace  that  rings  so  often  in  our  ears.  Cer- 
tainly reason  is  so  far  from  condemning  a  deference  to  the 
judgment  of  the  wise  and  good,  that  nothing  is  more  irrational 
than  to  neglect  it ;  but  when  this  is  claimed  for  those  whom 
we  need  not  believe  to  have  been  wiser  and  better  than  our- 
selves, nay,  sometimes  whom  without  vain-glory  we  may 
esteem  less,  and  that  so  as  to  set  aside  the  real  authority  of 
the  most  philosophical,  unbiassed,  and  judicious  of  mankind, 
it  is  not  pride  or  presumption,  but  a  sober  use  of  our  faculties, 
that  rejects  the  jurisdiction.  • 

11.  Bossuet  once  more  engaged  in  a  similar  discussion 
about  1691.  Among  the  German  Lutherans,  there  correspond, 
seems  to  have  been  for  a  long  time  a  lurking  notion,  *?ce  viQt- 

...    °  .     '  Molanus 

that,  on  some  terms  or  other,  a  reconciliation  with  and  L«fl>- 
the  Church  of  Rome  could  be  effected  ;  and  this  was  mt*' 
most  countenanced  in  the  dominions  of  Brunswick,  and  above 
all  in  the  University  of  Helmstadt.  Leibnitz  himself,  and 
Molanus,  a  Lutheran  divine,  were  the  negotiators  on  that  side 
with  Bossuet.  Their  treaty,  for  such  it  was  apparently 
understood  to  be,  was  conducted  by  writing ;  and,  when  we 
read  their  papers  on  both  sides,  nothing  is  more  remarkable 
than  the  tone  of  superiority  which  the  Catholic  plenipoten- 
tiary, if  such  he  could  be  deemed  without  powers  from  any 
one  but  himself,  has  thought  fit  to  assume.  No  concession  is 
offered,  no  tenet  explained  away  :  the  sacramental  cup  to  the 
laity,  and  a  permission  to  the  Lutheran  clergy  already  mar- 
ried to  retain  their  wives  after  their  re-ordination,  is  all  that 
he  holds  forth;  and  in  this,  doubtless,  he  had  no  authority 
from  Rome.  Bossuet  could  not  veil  his  haughty  countenance ; 
and  his  language  is  that  of  asperity  and  contemptuousness, 
instead  of  moderation.  He  dictates  terms  of  surrender  as  to 
a  besieged  city  when  the  breach  is  already  practicable,  and 
hardly  deigns  to  show  his  clemency  by  granting  the  smalK.'.-f 
favor  to  the  garrison.  It  is  curious  to  see  the  strained  con 


82  BOSSUET.  PART  IV. 

structions,  the  artifices  of  silence,  to  which  Molanus  has  re- 
course, in  order  to  make  out  some  pretence  for  his  ignominious 
surrender.  Leibnitz,  with  whom  the  correspondence  broke 
off  in  1693,  and  was  renewed  again  in  1699,  seems  not  quite 
so  yielding  as  the  other ;  and  the  last  biographer  of  Bossuet 
suspects,  that  the  German  philosopher  was  insincere  or  tortu- 
ous in  the  negotiation.  If  this  were  so,  he  must  have  entered 
upon  it  less  of  his  own  accord  than  to  satisfy  the  Princess 
Sophia,  who,  like  many  of  her  family,  had  been  a  little  waver- 
ing, till  our  Act  of  Settlement  became  a  true  settlement  to 
their  faith.  This  bias  of  the  court  of  Hanover  is  intimated 
in  several  passages.  The  success  of  this  treaty  of  union,  or 
rather  of  subjection,  was  as  little  to  be  expected  as  it  was 
desirable:  the  old  spirit  of  Lutheranism  was  much  worn  out, 
but  there  must  surely  have  been  a  determination  to  resist  so 
unequal  a  compromise.  Rome  negotiated  as  a  conqueror  with 
these  beaten  Carthaginians ;  yet  no  one  had  beaten  them  but 
themselves.1 

12.  The  warfare  of  the  Roman  Church  may  be  carried  on 
His  Variar  e^tner  *n  a  se™es  °f  conflicts  on  the  various  doctrines 
tions  of  wherein  the  reformers  separated  from  her,  or  by  one 
Churches*  P^ched  battle  on  the  main  question  of  a  conclusive 
authority  somewhere  in  the  church.  Bossuet's  tem- 
per, as  well  as  his  inferiority  in  original  learning,  led  him  in 
preference  to  the  latter  scheme  of  theological  strategy.  It 
was  also  manifestly  that  course  of  argument  which  was  most 
likely  to  persuade  the  unlearned.  He  followed  up  the  blow 
which  he  had  already  struck  against  Claude  in  his  famous 
work  on  the  Variations  of  Protestant  Churches.  Never  did 
his  genius  find  a  subject  more  fit  to  display  its  characteristic 
impetuosity,  its  arrogance,  or  its  cutting  and  merciless  spirit 
of  sarcasm.  The  weaknesses,  the  inconsistent  evasions,  the 
extravagances  of  Luther,  Zwingle,  Calvin,  and  Beza,  pass, 
one  after  another,  before  us,  till  these  great  reformers  seem, 
like  victim-prisoners,  to  be  hewn  down  by  the  indignant 
prophet.  That  Bossuet  is  candid  in  statement,  or  even  faith- 
ful in  quotation,  I  should  much  doubt :  he  gives  the  words  of 
his  adversaries  in  his  own  French;  and  the  references  are  not 
made  to  any  specified  edition  of  their  voluminous  writings. 
The  main  point,  as  he  contends  it  to  be,  that  the  Protestant 
churches  (for  he  does  not  confine  this  to  persons)  fluctuated 

i  CEuvres  de  Bossuet,  yols.  xxv.  and  xxri. 


CHAP.  n.  TAYLOR'S  DISSUASIVE.  3'3 

much  in  the  sixteenth  century,  is  sufficiently  proved ;  but  it 
remained  to  show  that  this  was  a  reproach.  Those  who  have 
taken  a  different  view  from  Bossuet  may  perhaps  think  that  a 
Little  more  of  this  censure  would  have  been  well  incurred  ; 
that  they  have  varied  too  little,  rather  than  too  much  ;  and  that 
it  is  far  more  difficult,  even  in  controversy  with  the  Church  of 
Rome,  to  withstand  the  inference  which  their  long  creeds  and 
confessions,  as  well  as  the  language  too  common  with  their 
theologians,  have  furnished  to  her  more  ancient  and  catholic 
claim  of  infallibility,  than  to  vindicate  those  successive  varia- 
tions which  are  analogous  to  the  necessary  course  of  human 
reason  on  all  other  subjects.  The  essential  fallacy  of  Roman- 
ism, that  truth  must  ever  exist  visibly  on  earth,  is  implied  in 
the  whole  strain  of  Bossuet's  attack  on  the  variances  of  Pro- 
testantism :  it  is  evident  that  variance  of  opinion  proves  error 
somewhere ;  but,  unless  it  can  be  shown  that  we  have  any 
certain  method  of  excluding  it,  this  should  only  lead  us  to  be 
more  indulgent  towards  the  judgment  of  others,  and  less 
confident  of  our  own.  The  notion  of  an  intrinsic  moral 
criminality  in  religious  error  is  at  the  root  of  the  whole  argu- 
ment ;  and,  till  Protestants  are  well  rid  of  this,  there  seems  no 
secure  mode  of  withstanding  the  effect  which  the  vast  weight 
of  authority  asserted  by  the  Latin  Church,  even  where  it  has 
not  the  aid  of  the  Eastern,  must  produce  on  timid  and  scru- 
pulous minds. 

13.  In  no  period  has  the  Anglican  Church   stood  up   so 
powerfully  in  defence  of  the  Protestant  cause  as  in 

that  before  us.      From  the  era  of  the  Restoration  to   writings 
the  close  of  the  century,  the  war  was  unremitting  ^j^. 
and  vigorous.     And  it  is  particularly  to  be  remarked, 
that  the  principal  champions  of  the  Church  of  England  threw 
off  that  ambiguous   syncretism  which   had   displayed  itself 
under  the  first  Stuarts,  and,  comparatively  at  least  with  their 
immediate  predecessors,  avoided  every  admission  which  might 
facilitate  a  deceitful  compromise.      We  can  only  mention  a 
few  of  the  writers  who  signalized  themselves  in  this  contro- 
versy. 

14.  Taylor's   Dissuasive   from    Popery  was   published   in 
1664 ;  and.  in  this  his  latest  work,  we  find  the  same  Taylor's 
general  strain  of  Protestant  reasoning,  the  same  re-  Wi*niasiTO- 
jection  of  all  but  scriptural  authority,  the  same  free  exposure 
of  the  inconsistencies  and  fallacies  of  tradition,  the  same  ten- 


8  4  BARROW  —  STILLINGFLEET — JANSEOTTJS.     PAKT  IV. 

dency  to  excite  a  sceptical  feeling  as  to  all  except  the  primary 
doctrines  of  religion,  which  had  characterized  the  Liberty  of 
Prophesying.  These  are  mixed,  indeed,  in  Taylor's  manner, 
with  a  few  passages  (they  are,  I  think,  but  few),  which,  singly 
taken,  might  seem  to  breathe  not  quite  this  spirit ;  but  the 
tide  flows  for  the  most  part  the  same  way,  and  it  is  evident 
that  his  mind  had  undergone  no  change.  The  learning  in  all 
his  writings  is  profuse ;  but  Taylor  never  leaves  me  with  the 
impression  that  he  is  exact  and  scrupulous  in  its  application. 
In  one  part  of  this  Dissuasive  from  Popery,  having  been  re- 
proached with  some  inconsistency,  he  has  no  scruple  to  avow, 
that,  in  a  former  work,  he  had  employed  weak  arguments  for  a 
laudable  purpose.1 

15.  Barrow,  not  so  extensively  learned  as  Taylor,  who  had 
Barrow;       read  rather  too  much,  but  inferior  perhaps  even  in 
stmingfleet.  ^a^  regpect  to  hardly  any  one  else,  and  above  him 
in  closeness  and  strength  of  reasoning,  maintained  the  combat 
against  Rome  in  many  of  his  sermons,  and  especially  in  a 
long  treatise  on  the  Papal  supremacy.     Stillingfleet  followed, 
a  man  deeply  versed  in  ecclesiastical  antiquity,  of  an  argu- 
mentative mind,  excellently  fitted  for  polemical  dispute,  but 
perhaps  by  those  habits  of  his  life  rendered  too  much  of  an 
advocate  to  satisfy  an  impartial  reader.     In  the  critical  reign 
of  James  II.,  he  may  be  considered  as  the  leader  on  the  Pro- 
testant side ;   but  Wake,  Tillotson,  and  several  more,  would 
deserve  mention  in  a  fuller  history  of  ecclesiastical  literature. 

1 6.  The  controversies  always  smouldering  in  the  Church  of 
jansenius     ^ome>  an<^  sometimes  breaking  into  flame,  to  which 

the  Anti-Pelagian  writings  of  Augustin  had  origi- 
nally given  birth,  have  been  slightly  touched  in  our  former 
volumes.  It  has  been  seen,  that  the  rigidly  predestinarian 
theories  had  been  condemned  by  the  court  of  Rome  in  Baius ; 
that  the  opposite  doctrine  of  Molina  had  narrowly  escaped 
censure ;  that  it  was  safest  to  abstain  from  any  language  not 
verbally  that  of  the  church  or  of  Augustin,  whom  the  church 
held  incontrovertible.  But  now  a  more  serious  and  celebrated 
controversy,  that  of  the  Jansenists,  pierced  as  it  were  to  the 
heart  of  the  church.  It  arose  before  the  middle  of  the  cen- 
tury. Jansenius,  Bishop  of  Ypres,  in  his  Augustinus,  pub- 

i  Taylor's  Works,  x.  304.    This  Is  not    arguments  and  authorities  in  controversy 
surprising,  as  in  his  Ductor  Dubitantiura,    which  we  do  not  believe  to  be  valid, 
xi.  484,  he  maintains  the  right  of  using 


CHAP.  H.  JANSENIUS.  35 

lished  after  his  death  in  1 640,  gave,  as  he  professed,  a  faithful 
statement  of  the  tenets  of  that  father.     "  We  do  not  inquire," 
he  says,  "  what  men  ought  to  believe  on  the  powers  of  human 
nature,  or  on  the  grace  and  predestination  of  God,  but  what 
Augustin  once  preached  with  the  approbation  of  the  church, 
and  has  consigned,  to  writing  in  many  of  his  works."     This 
book  is  in  three  parts :  the  first  containing  a  history  of  the 
Pelagian  controversy';  the  second  and  third,  an  exposition  of 
the  tenets  of  Augustin.     Jansenius  does  not,  however,  confine 
himself  so  much  to  mere  analysis,  but  that  he  attacks  the 
Jesuits  Lessius  and  Molina,  and  even  reflects  on  the  bull  of 
Pius  V.  condemning  Baius,  which  he  cannot  wholly  approve.1 
17.  Richelieu,  who  is  said  to  have  retained  some  animosity 
against  Jansenius  on  account  of  a  book  called  Mars 
Gallicus,  which  he  had  written  on  the  side  of  his  tiononSs 
sovereign  the  king  of  Spain,  designed  to  obtain  the  ^|!^tinus 
condemnation   of    the   Augustinus   by   the    French 
:lergy.     The  Jesuits,  therefore,  had  gained  ground  so  far,  that 
the  doctrines  of  Augustin  were  out  of  fashion,  though  few 
besides  themselves  ventured  to  reject  his  nominal  authority. 
It  is  certainly  clear,  that  Jansenius  offended  the  greater  part 
of  the  church ;   but  he  had   some   powerful   advocates,   and 
especially  Antony  Arnauld,  the  most  renowned  of  a  family 
long  conspicuous  for  eloquence,  for  piety,  and  for  opposition  to 
the  Jesuits.     In  1 649,  after  several  years  of  obscure  dispute, 
Cornet,  syndic  of  the  faculty  of  theology  in  the  University  of 
Paris,  brought  forward  for  censure  seven  propositions,  five 
of  which  became  afterwards  so  famous,  without  saying  that 
they  were  found  in  the  work  of  Jansenius.     The  faculty  con- 
demned them,  though  it  had  never  been  reckoned  favorable 
to  the  Jesuits ;    a  presumption  that  they  were  at  least  ex- 
pressed in  a  manner  repugnant  to  the   prevalent  doctrine. 
Yet  Le  Clerc  declares  his  own  opinion,  that  there  may  be 
some  ambiguity  in  the  style  of  the  first,  but  that  the  other 
four  are  decidedly  conformable  to  the  theology  of  Augustin. 

1  A  very  copious  history  of  Jansenism,  it  entitles  him  to  rank  in  the  list  of  those 

taking  it  up  from  the  Council  of  Trent,  who  have  succeeded  in  both.    Is  it  not 

will  be  found  in  the  fourteenth  volume  of  probable,  that  in  some  scenes  of  Athalie  he 

the  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  pp.  139-398,  had  Port  Royal  before  his  eyes  ?    The  his- 

from  which  Mosheim  has  derived  most  of  tory  and  the  tragedy  were  written  about 

what  we  read  in  his  Ecclesiastical  History,  the  same  tune.    Racine,  it  is  rather  re- 

And  the  History  of  Port  Royal  was  written  markable,  had  entered  the  field  against 

by  Racine  in  so  perspicuous  and  neat  a  Nicole  in  1666,  chiefly  indeed  to  defend 

style,  that  though  we  may  hardly  think,  theatrical  representations,  but  not  with- 

with  Olivet,  that  it  places  him  as  high  in  out  many  sarcasms  against  Jantenism. 
prose-writing  as  his  tragedies  do  in  verse, 


36  THE  JANSENISTS.  PART  IV 

18.  The  Jesuits   now  took  the  course  »>f  calling  in  the 
And  at        authority  of  Rome.     They  pressed  Innocent  X.  to 
Rome.        condemn  the   five   propositions,  which  were   main- 
tained by  some  doctors  in  France.     It  is  not  the  policy  of 
that  court  to  compromise  so  delicate  a  possession  as  infallibili- 
ty by  bringing  it  to  the  test  of  that  personal  judgment,  which 
is  of  necessity  the  arbiter  of  each  man's  own  obedience.     The 
popes  have,  in  fact,  rarely  taken   a  part,   independently  of 
councils,  in  these  school-debates.     The  bull  of  Pius  "V.  (a  man 
too  zealous  by  character  to  regard  prudence),  in  which   he 
condemned  many  tenets  of  Baius,  had  not,  nor  could  it  give 
satisfaction  to  those  who  saw  with  their  own  eyes   that  it 
swerved  from  the  Augustinian  theory.     Innocent  was,  at  first, 
unwilling  to  meddle  with  a  subject  which,  as  he  owned  to  a 
friend,  he  did  not  understand.     But,  after  hearing  some  dis- 
cussions, he  grew  more  confident  of  his  knowledge,  which  he 
ascribed,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  the  inspiration  of  the   Holy 
Ghost ;  and  went  so  heartily  along  with  the  Anti- Jansenists, 
that  he  refused  to  hear  the  deputies  of  the  other  party.     On 
the  31st  of  May,  1653,  he  condemned  the  five  propositions, 
four  as  erroneous,  and  the  fifth  in  stronger  language ;   declar- 
ing, however,  not  in  the  bull,  but  orally,  that   he   did   not 
condemn  the  tenet  of  efficacious  grace  (which  all  the  Domini- 
cans held),  nor  the  doctrine  of  St.  Augustin,  which  was,  and 
ever  would  be,  that  of  the  church. 

19.  The  Jansenists  were  not  bold  enough  to  hint  that  they 
„    j         did  not  acknowledge  the  infallibility  of  the  pope  in 
niste  take  a  an  express  and  positive  declaration.     Even  if  they 
distinction,  had  done  go^  they  had  an  ^dent  recognition  of  this 

censure  of  the  five  propositions  by  their  own  church,  and 
might  dread  its  being  so  generally  received  as  to  give  the 
sanction  which  no  Catholic  can  withstand.  They  had  re- 
course, unfortunately,  to  a  subterfuge  which  put  them  in  the 
wrong.  They  admitted  that  the  propositions  were  false,  but 
denied  that  they  could  be  found  in  the  book  of  Jansenius. 
Thus  each  party  rested  on  the  denial  of  a  matter  of  fact,  and 
each  erroneously,  according  at  least  to  the  judgment  of  the 
most  learned  and  impartial  Protestants.  The  five  propo- 
sitions express  the  doctrine  of  Augu&tin  himself;  and,  if  they 
do  this,  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  they  express  that  of 
Jansenius.  In  a  short  time,  this  ground  of  evasion  was  taken 
from  their  party.  An  assembly  of  French  prelates  in  the 


CHAP.  II.  THE  JANSENISTS.  37 

first  place,  and  afterwards  Alexander  Vll,  successor  of 
Innocent  X.,  condemned  the  propositions  as  in  Jansenius,  and 
in  the  sense  intended  by  Jansenius. 

20.  The  Jansenists  were  now  driven  to  the  wall :  the  Sor- 
bonne  in  1655,  in  consequence  of  some  propositions  And  are 
of  Arnauld,  expelled  him  from  the  theological  facul-  persecuted. 
tj ;  a  formulary  was  drawn  up  to  bo  signed  by  the  clergy, 
condemning  the  propositions  of  Jansonius,  which  was  finally 
established  in  1661 ;  and  those  who  refused,  even  nuns,  under- 
went a  harassing  persecution.  The  most  -striking  instance 
of  this,  which  still  retains  an  historical  character,  was  the  dis- 
solution of  the  famous  convent  of  Port-Royal,  over  which 
Angelica  Arnauld,  sister  of  the  great  advocate  of  Jansenism, 
had  long  presided  with  signal  reputation.  This  nunnery  was 
at  Paris,  having  been  removed  in  1 644  from  an  ancient  Cis- 
tertian  convent  of  the  same  name,  about  six  leagues  distant, 
and  called,  for  distinction,  Port-Royal  des  Champs.  To  this 
now  unfrequented  building  some  of  the  most  eminent  men  re 
paired  for  study,  whose  writings  being  anonymously  published 
have  been  usually  known  by  the  name  of  their  residence. 
Arnauld,  Pascal,  Nicole,  Lancelot,  De  Sacy,  are  among 
the  Messieurs  de  Port- Royal,  an  appellation  so  glorious  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  Jansenists  now  took  a  distinction, 
very  reasonable,  as  it  seems,  in  its  nature,  between  the  authori 
ty  which  asserts  or  denies  a  proposition,  and  that  which  doe* 
the  like  as  to  a  fact.  They  refused  to  the  pope,  that  is,  it 
this  instance,  to  the  church,  the  latter  infallibility.  "We  can 
not  prosecute  this  part  of  ecclesiastical  history  farther:  il 
writings  of  any  literary  importance  had  been  produced  by  thr 
controversy,  they  would  demand  our  attention ;  but  this  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  the  case.  The  controversy  between 
Arnauld  and  Malebranche  may  perhaps  be  an  exception. 
The  latter,  carried  forward  by  his  original  genius,  attempted 
to  deal  with  the  doctrines  of  theology  as  with  metaphysical 
problems,  in  his  Traite  de  la  Nature  et  de  la  Grace.  Arnauld 
animadverted  on  this  in  his  Reflexions  Philosophiques  et 
Theologiques.  Malebranche  replied  in  Lettres  du  Pere  Male- 
branche a  un  de  ses  Amis.  This  was  published  in  1686 ;  and 
the  controversy  between  such  eminent  masters  of  abstruse 
reasoning  began  to  excite  attention.  Malebranche  seems  to 
have  retired  first  from  the  field.  His  antagonist  had  great 
advantages  in  the  dispute,  according  to  received  systems  of 


88  COURCELLES  —  LIMBORCH.  PART  19 

theology,  with  which  he  was  much  more  conversant,  and  per 
haps,  on  the  whole,  in  the  philosophical  part  of  the  question 
This,  however,  cannot  be  reckoned  entirely  a  Jansenistic  con- 
troversy, though  it  involved  those  perilous  difficulties  which 
had  raised  that  flame.1 

21.  The  credit  of  Augustin  was  now  as  much  shaken  in 
Progress  of  the  Protestant  as  in  the  Catholic  regions  of  Europe. 
Arminian-    Episcopius  had  given  to  the   Remonstrant  party  a 

reputation  which  no  sect  so  inconsiderable  in  its  sepa- 
rate character  has  ever  possessed.  The  Dutch  Arminians 
were  at  no  tune  numerous ;  they  took  no  hold  of  the  people ; 
they  had  few  churches,  and,  though  not  persecuted  by  the  now 
lenient  policy  of  Holland,  were  still  under  the  ban  of  an  ortho- 
dox clergy,  as  exclusive  and  bigoted  as  before.  But  their 
writings  circulated  over  Europe,  and  made  a  silent  impression 
on  the  adverse  party.  It  became  less  usual  to  bring  forward 
the  Augustinian  hypothesis  in  prominent  or  unequivocal  lan- 
guage. Courcelles,  born  at  Geneva,  and  the  succes- 
sor of  Episcopius  in  the  Remonstrant  congregation 
at  Amsterdam,  with  less  genius  than  his  predecessor,  had  per- 
haps a  more  extensive  knowledge  of  ecclesiastical  antiquity. 
His  works  were  much  in  esteem  with  the  theologians  of  that 
way  of  thinking ;  but  they  have  not  fallen  in  my  way. 

22.  Limborch,  great-nephew  of  Episcopius,  seems,  more 

than  any  other  Arminian  divine,  to  have  inherited  his 
mantle.  His  most  important  work  is  the  Theologia 
Christiana,  containing  a  system  of  divinity  and  morals,  in 
seven  books  and  more  than  900  pages,  published  in  1686.  It 
is  the  fullest  delineation  of  the  Arminian  scheme ;  but  as  the 
Arminians  were  by  their  principle  free  inquirers,  and  not,  like 
other  churches,  bondsmen  of  symbolical  formularies,  no  one 
book  can  strictly  be  taken  as  their  representative.  The  tenets 
of  Limborch  are,  in  the  majority  of  disputable  points,  such  as 
impartial  men  have  generally  found  in  the  primitive  or  Ante- 
Nicene  fathers ;  but  in  some  he  probably  deviates  from  them, 
steering  far  away  from  all  that  the  Protestants  of  the  Swiss 
reform  had  abandoned  as  superstitious  or  unintelligible. 

23.  John  Le  Clerc,  in  the  same  relationship  to  Courcelles 
that  Limborch  was  to  Episcopius,  and  like  him  transplanted 
from  Geneva  to  the  more  liberal  air,  at  that  time,  of  the  United 

1  An  account  of  this  controversy  will  be  found  at  length  in  the  second  volume  of 
the  Bibliothcquo  Universelle 


CHAP.  II. 


LE  CLEEC  —  BANCROFT. 


39 


Provinces,  claims  a  high  place  among  the  Dutch  Arminiang ; 
for,  though  he  did  not  maintain  their  cause  either  in 
systematic  or  polemical  writings,  his  commentary  on 
the  Old  Testament,  and  still  more  his  excellent  and  celebrated 
reviews,  the  Bibliotheques  Universelle,  Choisie,  and  Ancienne 
et  Moderne,  must  be  reckoned  a  perpetual  combat  on  that 
side.  These  journals  enjoyed  an  extraordinary  influence  over 
Europe,  and  deserved  to  enjoy  it.  Le  Clerc  is  generally  tem- 
perate, judicious,  appeals  to  no  passion,  displays  a  very  exten- 
sive though  not  perhaps  a  very  deep  erudition,  lies  in  wait 
for  the  weakness  and  temerity  of  those  he  reviews ;  thus  some- 
times gaining  the  advantage  over  more  learned  men  than 
himself.  He  would  have  been  a  perfect  master  of  that  sort 
of  criticism,  then  newly  current  in  literature,  if  he  could  have 
repressed  an  irritability  in  matters  personal  to  himself,  and  a 
degree  of  prejudice  against  the  Romish  writers,  or  perhaps 
those  styled  orthodox  in  general,  which  sometimes  disturbs  the 
phlegmatic  steadiness  with  which  a  good  reviewer,  like  a 
practised  sportsman,  brings  down  his  game.1 

24.   The  most  remarkable  progress  made  by  the  Arminian 
theology  was  in  England.     This  had  begun  under  g^,.^, 
James  and  Charles ;    but  it  was  then  taken  up  in  Fur  Pne- 
conjunction  with  that  patristic  learning  which  adopt-  destinatua- 
ed  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  as  the  standard  of  orthodox 
faith.    Perhaps  the  first  very  bold  and  unambiguous  attack  on 


1  Bishop  Monk  observes,  that  Le  Clerc 
"  seems  to  have  been  the  first  person  who 
understood  the  power  which  may  be  exer- 
cised over  literature  bv  a  reviewer."  —  Life 
of  Bentley,  p.  209.  This  may  be  true, 
especially  as  he  was  nearly  the  first  re- 
viewer, and  certainly  better  than  his  pre- 
decessors. But  this  remark  is  followed  by 
«  sarcastic  animadversion  upon  Le  Clerc  'a 
ignorance  of  Greek  metres,  and  by  the 
severe  assertion,  that,  "by  an  absolute 
system  of  terror,  he  made  himself  a  despot 
in  the  republic  of  letters." 

[The  former  is  certainly  just :  Le  Clerc 
was  not  comparable  to  Bentley,  or  to 
many  who  have  followed,  in  his  critical 
knowledge  of  Greek  metres  :  which,  at  the 
present  day,  would  be  held  very  cheap, 
lie  is,  however,  to  be  judged  relatively 
to  his  predecessors  ;  and,  In  the  particular 
department  of  metrical  rules,  few  had 
known  much  more  than  he  did ;  as  we 
may  perceive  by  the  Greek  compositions 
of  Casaubon  and  other  eminent  scholars. 
Le  Clerc  might  have  been  more  prudent 
in  abstaining  fiwn  interference  with  what 


he  did  not  well  understand ;  but  this  can- 
not warrant  scornful  language  towards  so 
general  a  scholar,  and  one  who  served 
literature  so  well.  That  he  made  himself 
a  despot  in  the  republic  of  letters  by  a 
system  of  terror  is  a  charge  not  made  out, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  by  the  general  character 
of  Le  Clerc "s  criticisms,  which,  where  he 
has  no  personal  quarrel,  is  temperate  and 
moderate,  neither  traducing  men  nor  im- 
puting motives.  I  adhere  to  the  character 
of  his  reviews  given  in  the  text;  and 
having  early  in  life  become  acquainted 
with  them,  and  having  been  accustomed, 
by  books  then  esteemed,  to  think  highly 
of  Le  Clerc,  I  must  be  excused  from  fol- 
lowing a  change  of  fashion.  This  note  has 
been  modified  on  the  complaint  of  the 
learned  prelate  quoted  in  it,  whom  I  had 
not  the  slightest  intention  of  offending,  but 
who  might  take  some  expressions,  with 
respect  to  periodical  criticism,  as  personal 
to  himself;  which  neither  were  so  meant, 
nor,  as  far  as  I  know,  could  apply  to  any 
reputed  writings  of  his  composition  — 
1847 


40  ARMINIANISM.  PART  IV. 

the  Calvinistic  system  which  we  shalhmention  came  from  this 
quarter.  This  was  in  an  anoymous  Latin  pamphlet  entitled 
Fur  Praedestinatus,  published  in  1651,  and  generally  ascribed 
to  Sancroft,  at  that  time  a  young  man.  It  is  a  dialogue 
between  a  thief  under  sentence  of  death  and  his  attendant 
minister,  wherein  the  former  insists  upon  his  assurance  of 
being  predestinated  to  salvation.  In  this  idea  there  is  nothing 
but  what  is  sufficiently  obvious ;  but  the  dialogue  is  conducted 
with  some  spirit  and  vivacity.  Every  position  in  the  thief's 
mouth  is  taken  from  eminent  Calvinistic  writers ;  and  what  is 
chiefly  worth  notice  is,  that  Sancroft,  for  the  first  time,  has 
ventured  to  arraign  the  greatest  heroes  of  the  Reformation ; 
not  only  Calvin,  Beza,  and  Zanchius,  but,  who  had  been  hith- 
erto spared,  Luther  and  Zwingle.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
manifesto  from  the  Arminian  party,  that  they  would  not  defer 
in  future  to  any  modern  authority.1 

25.  The  loyal  Anglican  clergy,  suffering  persecution  at  the 
Arminian-  nan(^s  °f  Calvinistic  sectaries,  might  be  naturally 
ism  in  expected  to  cherish  the  opposite  principles.  These 
ind'  are  manifest  in  the  sermons  of  Barrow,  rather  per- 
haps by  his^silence  than  his  tone,  and  more  explicitly  in  those 
of  South.  But  many  exceptions  might  be  found  among  lead- 
ing men,  such  as  Sanderson ;  while  in  an  opposite  quarter, 
among  the  younger  generation  who  had  conformed  to  the 
times,  arose  a  more  formidable  spirit  of  Arminianism,  which 
changed  the  face  of  the  English  Church.  This  was  displayed 
among  those  who,  just  about  the  epoch  of  the  Restoration, 
were  denominated  Latitude-men,  or  more  commonly  Latitudi- 
narians,  trained  in  the  principles  of  Episcopius  and  Chilling- 
worth  ;  strongly  averse  to  every  compromise  with  Popery,  and 
thus  distinguished  from  the  high-church  party  ;  learned  rather 
in  profane  philosophy  than  in  the  fathers ;  more  full  of  Plato 
and  Plotinus  than  Jerome  or  Chrysostom;  great  maintainers  of 
natural  religion,  and  of  the  eternal  laws  of  morality ;  not  very 
solicitous  about  systems  of  orthodoxy,  and  limiting  very  con- 
siderably beyond  the  notions  of  former  ages  the  fundamental 

1  The  For  Praedestinatus  is  reprinted  in  nitz  informs  us  that  it  is  a  translation 
D'Oyly's  Life  of  Sancroft.  It  is  much  the  from  a  Dutch  tract,  published  at  the  be- 
best i  proof  of  ability  that  the  worthy  arch-  ginning  of  the  Arminian  controversy, 
bishop  ever  pave.  Bayle,  he  says,  was  not  aware  of  this,  and 

[The  superiority  of  this  little  piece  to  quotes  it  as  written  in  English.  Theodi- 

•ny  thing  else  ascribed  to  Sancroft  is  easily  cea,  sect.  167.  Sancroft.  as  appears  by 

explained.  It  was  not  his  own;  of  which  D'Oyly's  Life  of  him,  was  in  Ho7  land  from 

his  biographers  have  been  ignorant.  Leib-  1657  to  1659.  — 1853.] 


CHAP.  II.  BULL.  41 

tenets  of  Christianity.  This  is  given  as  a  general  character, 
but  varying  in  the  degree  of  its  application  to  particular  per- 
sons. Burnet  enumerates  as  the  chief  of  this  body  of  men, 
More,  Cudworth,  "Whichcot,  Tillotson,  Stillingfleet ;  some, 
especially  the  last,  more  tenacious  of  the  authority  of  the 
fathers  and  of  the  church  than  others,  but  all  concurring  in 
the  adoption  of  an  Arminian  theology.1  This  became  so  pre- 
dominant before  the  Revolution,  that  few  English  divines  of 
eminence  remained  who  so  much  as  endeavored  to  steer  a 
middle  course,  or  to  dissemble  their  renunciation  of  the  doc- 
trines which  had  been  sanctioned  at  the  Synod  of  Dort  by  the 
delegates  of  their  church.  "  The  Theological  Institutions  of 
Episcopius,"  says  a  contemporary  writer,  "  were  at  that  rime 
(1 685)  generally  in  the  hands  of  our  students  of  divinity  in 
both  universities,  as  the  best  system  of  divinity  that  had 
appeared."  -  And  he  proceeds  afterwards :  "  The  Remon- 
strant writers,  among  whom  there  were  men  of  excellent 
learning  and  parts,  had  now  acquired  a  considerable  reputa- 
tion in  our  universities  by  the  means  of  some  great  men 
among  us."  This  testimony  seems  irresistible ;  and  as,  one 
hundred  years  before,  the  Institutes  of  Calvin  were  read  in 
the  same  academical  studies,  we  must  own,  unless  Calvin  and 
Episcopius  shall  be  maintained  to  have  held  the  same  tenets, 
that  Bossuet  might  have  added  a  chapter  to  the  Variations  of 
Protestant  Churches. 

26.  The  methods  adopted  in  order  to  subvert  the  Augus- 
tinian  theology  were  sometimes  direct,  by  explicit  BuU,g 
controversy,  or  by  an  opposite  train  of  scriptural  Harmoma 
interpretation  in  regular  commentaries ;  more  fre-  pos< 
quently  perhaps  indirect,  by  inculcating  moral  duties,  and 
especially  by  magnifying  the  law  of  nature.  Among  the  first 
class,  the  Harmonia  Apostolica  of  Bull  seems  to  be  reckoned 
the  principal  work  of  this  period.  It  was  published  in  1669, 
and  was  fiercely  encountered  at  first  not  merely  by  the  Pres- 
byterian party,  but  by  many  of  the  church;  the  Lutheran 
tenets  as  to  justification  by  faith  being  still  deemed  orthodox. 
Bull  establishes  as  the  groundwork  of  his  harmony  between 
the  apostles  Paul  and  James,  on  a  subject  where  their  lan- 
guage apparently  clashes  in  terms,  that  we  are  to  interpret 

1  Bnrnet's  History  of  His  Own  Times,  i.  187 :   Account  of  the  new  Sect  tailed 
Latitudinarians.  in  the  collection  of  tracts  entitled  The  Phoenix,  rol.  ii.  p.  499. 
a  Nelson's  Life  of  Bull,  in  Bull's  Works,  TOl.  viii.  p.  257. 


42  HAMMOND  — LOCKE  — WILKINS.  PART  IV. 

St.  Paul-  by  St.  James,  and  not  St.  James  by  St.  Paul ; 
because  the  latest  authority,  and  that  which  may  be  presumed 
to  have  explained  what  was  obscure  in  the  former,  ought  to 
prevail,1 — a  rule  doubtless  applicable  in  many  cases,  what- 
ever it  may  be  in  this.  It  at  least  turned  to  his  advantage ; 
but  it  was  not  so  easy  for  him  to  reconcile  his  opinions  with 
those  of  the  reformers,  or  with  the  Anglican  articles. 

27.  The  Paraphrase  and  Annotations  of  Hammond  on  the 
Hammond;  New  Testament  give  a  different  color  to  the  Epistles 
Locke;     '  of  St.  Paul  from  that  which  they  display  in  the 

hands  of  Beza  and  the  other  theologians  of  the  six- 
teenth century;  and  the  name  of  Hammond  stood  so  high 
with  the  Anglican  clergy,  that  he  naturally  turned  the  tide  of 
interpretation  his  own  way.  The  writings  of  Fowler,  Wil- 
kins,  and  Whichcot,  are  chiefly  intended  to  exhibit  the  moral 
lustre  of  Christianity,  and  to  magnify  the  importance  of  vir- 
tuous life.  Wilkins  left  an  unfinished  work  on  the  Principles 
and  Duties  of  Natural  Religion.  Twelve  chapters  only,  about 
half  the  volume,  were  ready  for  the  press  at  his  death :  the 
rest  was  compiled  by  Tillotson  as  well  as  the  materials  left 
by  the  author  would  allow;  and  the  expressions  employed 
lead  us  to  believe  that  much  was  due  to  the  editor.  The 
latter's  preface  strongly  presses  the  separate  obligation  of 
natural  religion,  upon  which  both  the  disciples  of  Hobbes,  and 
many  of  the  less  learned  sectaries,  were  at  issue  with  him. 

28.  We  do  not  find  much  of  importance  written  on  the  Tri- 
Socinians  in  nitarian  controversy  before  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
England,       teenth  century,  except  by  the  Socinians  themselves. 
But  the-  case  was  now  very  different.     Though  the  Polish  or 
rather  German  Unitarians  did  not  produce  more  distinguished 
men  than  before,  they  came  more  forward  in  the  field  of  dis- 
pute.    Finally  expelled  from  Poland  in  1660,  they  sought 
refuge  in  more  learned  as  well  more  tolerant  regions,  and 
especially  in  the  genial  soil  of  religious  liberty,  —  the  United 
Provinces.     Even  here  they  enjoyed  no  avowed  toleration 
but  the  press,  with  a  very  slight  concealment  of  place,  under 
the  attractive  words  Eleutheropolis,  Irenopolis  or  Freystadt, 
was  ready  to  serve  them  with  its  natural  impartiality.     They 
began  to  make  a  slight  progress  in  England ;  the  writings  of 
Biddle  were  such  as  even  Cromwell,  though  habitually  tole- 
rant, did  not  overlook ;  the  author  underwent  an  imprisonment 

i  Nelson's  Life  of  Bull. 


CHAP.  H.  BULL'S  "DEFENCE."  43 

both  at  that  time  and  after  the  Restoration.  In  general,  the 
Unitarian  writers  preserved  a  disguise.  Milton's  treatise,  not 
long  since  brought  to  light,  goes  on  the  Arian  hypothesis, 
which  had  probably  been  countenanced  by  some  others.  It 
became  common,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  for  the  English 
divines  to  attack  the  Anti-Trinitarians  of  each  Denomination. 

29.  An  epoch  is  supposed  to  have  been  made  in  this  contro- 
versy by  the  famous  work  of  Bull,  Defensio  Fidei   Bulps  D^ 
Nicenaa.     This  was  not  pi-imarily  directed  against   fe?sio  FideJ 
the  heterodox  party.    In  the  Dogmata  Theologica  of 
Petavius,  published  in  1644,  that  learned  Jesuit,  laboriously 
compiling  passages  from  the  fathers,  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  most  of  those  before  the  Nicene  Council  had 
seemed,  by  their  language,  to  run  into  nearly  the  same  heresy 
as  that  which  the  council  had  condemned ;  and  this  inference 
appeared  to  rest  on  a  long  series  of  quotations.     The  Armi- 
nian  Courcelles,  and  even  the  English  philosopher  Cudworth, 
the  latter  of  whom  was  as  little  suspected  of  an  heterodox  lean- 
ing as  Petavius  himself,  had  arrived  at  the  same  result ;  so 
that  a  considerable  triumph  was  given  to  the  Arians,  in  which 
the  Socinians,  perhaps  at  that  time  more  numerous,  seem  to 
have  thought  themselves  entitled  to  partake.    Bull  had,  there- 
fore, to  contend  with  authorities  not  to  be  despised  by  the 
learned. 

30.  The  Defensio  Fidei  Nicenae  was  published  in  1 685.     It 
did  not  want  answerers  in  England;  but  it  obtained  a  great 
reputation ;  and  an  assembly  of  the  French  clergy,  through  the 
influence  of  Bossuet,  returned  thanks  to  the  author.     It  was 
indeed  evident,  that  Petavius,  though  he  had  certainly  formed 
his  opinion  with  perfect  honesty,  was  preparing  the  way  for 
an  inference,  that,  if  the  primitive  fathers  could  be  heterodox 
on  a  point  of  so  great  magnitude,  we  must  look  for  infallibility, 
not  in  them  nor  in  the  diffusive  church,  but  in  general  coun- 
cils presided  over  by  the  pope,  or  ultimately  in  the  pope  him- 
self.    This,  though  not  unsuitable  to   the   notions   of  some 
Jesuits,  was   diametrically  opposite  to  the  principles  of  the 
Gallican  Church,  which  professed  to  repose  on  a  perpetual 
and  catholic  tradition. 

31.  Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of  this  defence  of  the 
Nicene  faith,  and  the  learning  it  displays,  the  author  was  far 
from  ending  the  controversy,  or  from  satisfying  all  his  read- 
ers.    It  was  alFeged,  that  he  does  not  meet  the  question  witL 


44  MYSTICS  —  FENELON.  PAKT  IV. 

which  he  deals ;  that  the  word  fyoovoioc,  being  almost  new 
Not  satis-  at  ^e  ^me  °f  t'ie  council,  and  being  obscure  and 
factory  metaphysical  in  itself,  required  a  precise  definition 
to  make  the  reader  see  his  way  before  him,  or,  at 
least,  one  better  than  Bull  has  given,  which  the  adversary 
might  probably  adopt  without  much  scruple ;  that  the  passages 
adduced  from  the  fathers  are  often  insufficient  for  his  purpose  j 
that  he  confounds  the  eternal  essence  with  the  eternal  per- 
sonality or  distinctness  of  the  Logos,  though  well  aware,  of 
course,  that  many  of  the  early  writers  employed  different 
names  (hdiaderos  and  npo^opmbf)  for  these ;  and  that  he  does  not 
repel  some  of  the  passages  which  can  hardly  tmr  an  orthodox 
interpretation.  It  was  urged,  moreover,  that  bis  own  hypo- 
thesis, taken  altogether,  is  but  a  palliated  Ariamsm ;  that  br 
insisting,  for  more  than  one  hundred  pages,  on  ih*>,  subordina- 
tion of  the  Son  to  the  Father,  he  came  close  vo  what  since 
has  borne  that  name,  though  it  might  not  be  precisely  what 
had  been  condemned  at  Nice,  and  could  not  be  reconciled 
with  the  Athanasian  Creed,  except  by  such  an  interpretation 
of  the  latter  as  is  neither  probable,  nor  has  been  reputed 
orthodox. 

32.  Among  the  theological  writers  of  the  Eoman  Church, 
M  gtj  and,  in  a  less  degree,  among  Protestants,  there  has 
always  been  a  class,  not  inconsiderable  for  numbers 
or  for  influence,  generally  denominated  mystics,  or,  when 
their  language  has  been  more  unmeasured,  enthusiasts  and 
fanatics.  These  may  be  distinguished  into  two  kinds,  though 
it  must  readily  be  understood  that  they  may  often  run  much 
into  one  another,  —  the  first  believing  that  the  soul,  by 
immediate  communion  with  the  Deity,  receives  a  peculiar  illu- 
mination and  knowledge  of  truths  not  cognizable  by  the  under- 
standing; the  second  less  solicitous  about  intellectual  than 
moral  light,  and  aiming  at  such  pure  contemplation  of  the 
attributes  of  God,  and  such  an  intimate  perception  of  spiritual 
life,  as  may  end  in  a  sort  of  absorption  into  the  divine  essence. 
But  I  should  not  probably  have  alluded  to  any  writings  of 
Feneion  *^"s  Description,  if  the  two  most  conspicuous  lumina- 
ries of  the  French  Church,  Bossuet  and  F'enelon,  had 
not  clashed  with  each  other  in  that  famous  controversy  of 
Quietism,  to  which  the  enthusiastic  writings  of  Madame 
Guyon  gave  birth.  The  "  Maximes  des  Saints  "  of  Feneion 
I  have  never  seen  :  some  editions  of  his  entire  works,  as 


Cir.vr.  II.      CHANGE  IN  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE.  45 

they  affect  to  be,  do  not  include  what  the  church  has  con- 
demned ;  and  the  original  book  has  probably  become  scai'ce.1 
Fenelon  appears  to  have  been  treated  by  his  friend,  (shall  we 
call  him?)  or  rival,  with  remarkable  harshness.  Bossuet 
might  have  felt  some  jealousy  at  the  rapid  elevation  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Cambray :  but  we  need  not  have  recourse  to 
this  ;  the  rigor  of  orthodoxy  in  a  temper  like  his  will  account 
for  all.  There  could  be  little  doubt  but  that  many  saints 
honored  by  the  church  had  uttered  things  quite  as  strong  as 
any  that  Fenelon's  work  contained.  Bossuet,  however,  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  its  condemnation  at  Rome.  Fenelon  was 
of  the  second  class  above  mentioned  among  the  mystics,  and 
seems  to  have  been  absolutely  free  from  such  pretences  to 
illumination  as  we  find  in  Behmen  or  Barclay.  The  pure, 
disinterested  love  of  God  was  the  main-spring  of  his  reli- 
gious theory.  The  Divine  (Economy  of  Poiret,  1686,  and  the 
writings  of  st,  German  Quietist,  Speher,  do  not  require  any 
particular  mention.2 

33.  This  latter  period  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  marked 
by  an  increasing  boldness  in  religious  inquiry :  we  change  in 
find  more  disregard  of  authority,  more  disposition  thecharae- 

•"  .   .    *          .  .      ter  of  theo 

to  question  received  tenets,  a  more  suspicious  criti-  logical 
cism  both  as  to  the  genuineness  and  the  credibility  uterature- 
of  ancient  writings,  a  more  ardent  love  of  truth,  that  is,  of  per- 
ceiving and  understanding  what  is  truth,  instead  of  presuming 
that  we  possess  it  without  any  understanding  at  all.  Much 
of  this  was  associated,  no  doubt,  with  the  other  revolutions  in 
literary  opinion  ;  with  the  philosophy  of  Bacon,  Descartes, 
Gassendi,  Hobbes,  Bayle,  and  Locke ;  with  the  spirit  which  a 
slightly  learned  yet  acute  generation  of  men  rather  conver- 
sant with  the  world  than  with  libraries  (to  whom  the  appeal 
in  modern  languages  must  be  made)  was  sure  to  breathe ;  with 
that  incessant  reference  to  proof  which  the  physical  sciences 
taught  mankind  to  demand.  Hence  quotations  are  compara- 
tively rare  in  the  theological  writings  of  this  age :  they  are 
better  reduced  to  their  due  office  of  testimony  as  to  fact,  some- 
times of  illustration  or  better  statement  of  an  argument,  but 
not  so  much  alleged  as  argument  or  authority  in  themselves. 
Even  those  who  combated  on  the  side  of  established  doctrines 
were  compelled' to  argue  more  from  themselves,  lest  the  pub- 

1  [It  is  reprinted  in  the  edition  of  Fenelon's  works.  Versailles,  1820.  — 1847.] 
«  Bibl.  Universelle,  v.  412,  xvi.  224. 


46  THOUGHTS  OF  PASCAL.  PART  IV. 

lie,  their  umpire,  should  reject,  with  an  opposite  prejudice, 
what  had  enslaved  the  prejudices  of  their  fathers. 

34.  It  is  well  known,  that  a  disbelief  in  Christianity  became 
Freedom      ver7  frequent  about  this  time.     Several  books,  more 
of  many      or  less,  appear  to  indicate  this  spirit ;  but  the  charge 

tmg8'  has  often  been  made  with  no  sufficient  reason.  Of 
Hobbes  enough  has  been  already  said,  and  Spinosa's  place  as 
a  metaphysician  will  be  in  the  next  chapter.  His  Tractatus 
Theologico-Politicus,  published  anonymously  at  Amsterdam, 
with  the  false  date  of  Hamburg,  in  1670,  contains  many  ob- 
servations on  the  Old  Testament,  which,  though  they  do  not 
really  affect  its  general  authenticity  and  truth,  clashed  with 
the  commonly  received  opinion  of  its  absolute  inspiration. 
Some  of  these  remarks  were,  if  not  borrowed,  at  least  repeat- 
ed in  a  book  of  more  celebrity,  Sentiments  de  quelquea 
Theologiens  d'Hollande  sur  1'Histoire  Critique  du  Pere 
Simon.  This  work  is  written  by  Le  Clerc ;  but  it  has  been 
doubted  whether  he  is  the  author  of  those  acute  but  hardy 
questions  on  the  inspiration  of  Scripture  which  it  contains. 
They  must,  however,  be  presumed  to  coincide  for  the  most  part 
with  his  own  opinion ;  but  he  has  afterwards  declared  his 
dissent  from  the  hypothesis  contained  in  these  volumes,  that 
Moses  was  not  the  author  of  the  Pentateuch.  The  Archaeo- 
logia  Philosophica  of  Thomas  Burnet  is  intended  to  dispute 
the  literal  history  of  the  creation  and  fall.  But  few  will 
pretend  that  either  Le  Clerc  or  Burnet  were  disbelievers  in 
revelation. 

35.  Among  those  who  sustained  the  truth  of  Christianity 
Thoughts     by  argument  rather  than  authority,  the  first  place 
of  Pascal.     jj0tk  jn  orcier  of  ^0  an(j  of  excellence  is  due  to 

Pascal,  though  his  Thoughts  were  not  published  till  1670, 
some  years  after  his  death,  and,  in  the  first  edition,  not 
without  suppressions.  They  have  been  supposed  to  be  frag- 
ments of  a  more  systematic  work  that  he  had  planned,  or 
perhaps  only  reflections  committed  to  paper,  with  no  design 
of  publication  in  their  actual  form.  But,  as  is  generally  the 
case  with  works  of  genius,  we  do  not  easily  persuade  our- 
selves that  they  could  have  been  improved  by  any  such  altera- 
tion as  would  have  destroyed  their  type.  They  are  at 
present  bound  together  by  a  real  coherence  through  the 
predominant  character  of  the  reasonings  and  sentiments,  and 
give  us  every  thing  that  we  could  desire  in  a  more  regular 


CHAP.  H  PASCAL.  47 

treatise  without  the  tedious  verbosity  which  regularity  ia  apt 
to  produce.  The  style  is  not  so  polished  as  in  the  Provincial 
Letters,  and  the  sentences  are  sometimes  ill  constructed  and 
elliptical.  Passages  almost  transcribed  from  Montaigne  hav° 
been  published  by  careless  editors  as  Pascal's. 

36.  But  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  are  to  be  ranked,  as  a 
monument  of  his  genius,  above  the  Provincial  Letters,  though 
some  have  asserted  the  contrary.     They  burn  with  an  intense 
light ;  condensed  in  expression,  sublime,  energetic,  rapid,  they 
hurry  away  the  reader  till  he  is  scarcely  able  or  willing  to 
distinguish  the  sophisms  from  the  truth  which  they  contain. 
For  that  many  of  them  are  incapable  of  beai-ing  a  calm  scru- 
tiny is  very  manifest  to  those  who  apply  such  a  test.     The 
notes  of  Voltaire,  though   always   intended   to   detract,    are 
sometimes  unanswerable ;   but  the  splendor  of  Pascal's  elo- 
quence absolutely  annihilates,  in  effect  on  the  general  reader, 
even  this  antagonist. 

37.  Pascal  had  probably  not  read  very  largely,  which  has 
given  an  ampler  sweep  to  his  genius.     Except  the  Bible  and 
the  writings  of  Augustin,  the  book  that  seems  most  to  have 
attractel  him  was  the  Essays  of  Montaigne.     Yet  no  men 
could  be  more  unlike  in  personal  dispositions  and  in  the  cast 
of  their  intellect.     But  Pascal,  though  abhorring  the  religious 
and  moral  carelessness  of  Montaigne,  found  much  that  fell  in 
with  his  own  reflections  in  the  contempt  of  human  opinions, 
the  perpetual  humbling  of  human  reason,  which  runs  through 
the  bold  and  original  work  of  his  predecessor.     He  quotes  no 
book  so  frequently;  and  indeed,  except  Epictetus,  and  once 
or  twice  Descartes,  he  hardly  quotes  any  other  at  all.     Pascal 
was  too  acute  a  geometer,  and  too  sincere  a  lover  of  truth, 
to  countenance  the  sophisms  of  mere  Pyrrhonism ;   but,  like 
many  theological  writers,  in  exalting  faith  he  does  not  always 
give    reason  her   value,    and   furnishes   weapons   which    the 
sceptic  might  employ  against  himself.     It  has  been  said  that 
he  denies  the  validity  of  the  proofs  of  natural  religion.     This 
seems  to  be  in  some  measure  an  error,  founded  on  mistaking 
the  objections  he  puts  in  the  mouths  of  unbelievers  for  his 
own.     But  it  must,  I  think,  be  admitted  that  his  arguments 
for  the  being  of  a'  God  are  too  often  d  tutiori,  that  it  is  the 
safer  side  to  take. 

38.  The  Thoughts  of  Pascal  on  miracles  abound  in  proofs 
of  his  acuteness  and  originality ;   an  originality  much  more 


48  PASCAL.  PART  IV. 

striking  when  we  recollect  that  the  subject  had  not  been 
discussed  as  it  has  since,  but  with  an  intermixture  of  some 
sophistical  and  questionable  positions.  Several  of  them  have 
a  secret  reference  to  the  famous  cure  of  his  niece,  Mademoi- 
selle Perier,  by  the  holy  thorn.  But  he  is  embarrassed  with 
the  difficult  question  whether  miraculous  events  are  sure  tests 
of  the  doctrine  which  they  support,  and  is  not  wholly  consist- 
ent in  his  reasoning,  or  satisfactory  in  his  distinctions.  I  am 
unable  to  pronounce  whether  Pascal's  other  observations  on 
the  rational  proofs  of  Christianity  are  as  original  as  they  are 
frequently  ingenious  and  powerful. 

39.  But  the  leading  principle  of  Pascal's  theology,  that 
from  which  he  deduces  the  necessary  truth  of  revelation,  is 
the  fallen  nature  of  mankind ;  dwelling  less  upon  scriptural 
proofs,  which  he  takes  for  granted,  than  on  the  evidence 
which  he  supposes  man  himself  to  supply.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, can  be  more  dissimilar  than  his  beautiful  visions  to  the 
vulgar  Calvinism  of  the  pulpit.  It  is  not  the  sordid,  grovel- 
ling, degraded  Caliban  of  that  school,  but  the  ruined  arch- 
angel, that  he  delights  to  paint.  Man  is  so  great,  that  his 
greatness  is  manifest  even  in  his  knowledge  of  his  own 
misery.  A  tree  does  not  know  itself  to  be  miserable.  It 
is  true  that  to  know  we  are  miserable  is  misery ;  but  still  it  is 
greatness  to  know  it.  All  his  misery  proves  his  greatness : 
it  is  the  misery  of  a  great  lord,  of  a  king,  dispossessed  of  their 
own.  Man  is  the  feeblest  branch  of  nature,  but  it  is  a  branch 
that  thinks.  He  requires  not  the  universe  to  crush  him. 
He  may  be  killed  by  a  vapor,  by  a  drop  of  water.  But,  if 
the  whole  universe  should  crush  him,  he  would  be  nobler 
than  that  which  causes  his  death,  because  he  knows  that  he 
is  dying,  and  the  universe  would  not  know  its  power  over 
him.  This  is,  very  evidently,  sophistical  and  declamatory ; 
but  it  is  the  sophistry  of  a  fine  imagination.  It  would  be 
easy,  however,  to  find  better  passages.  The  dominant  idea 
recurs  in  almost  every  page  of  Pascal.  His  melancholy 
genius  plays  in  wild  and  rapid  flashes,  like  lightning  round 
the  scathed  oak,  about  the  fallen  greatness  of  man.  He  per- 
ceives every  characteristic  quality  of  his  nature  under  these 
conditions.  They  are  the  solution  of  every  problem,  the 
clearing-up  of  every  inconsistency  that  perplexes  us.  "  Man," 
he  says  very  finely,  "  has  a  secret  instinct  that  leads  him  to 
seek  diversion  and  employment  from  without;  which  springs 


CHAP.  II.  PASCAL.  49 

from  the  sense  of  his  continual  misery.  And  he  has  another 
secret  instinct,  remaining  from  the  greatness  of  his  original 
nature,  which  teaches  him  that  happiness  can  only  exist  in 
repose.  And  from  these  two  contrary  instincts  there  arises 
in  him  an  obscure  propensity,  concealed  in  his  soul,  which 
prompts  him  to  seek  repose  through  agitation,  and  even  to 
fancy  that  the  contentment  he  does  not  enjoy  will  be  found, 
if,  by  struggling  yet  a  little  longer,  he  can  open  a  door  to 
rest."1 

40.  It  can  hardly  be  conceived,  that  any  one  would  think 
the  worse  of  human  nature  or  of  himself  by  reading  these 
magnificent  lamentations  of  Pascal.     He  adorns  and  ennobles 
the  degeneracy  that  he  exaggerates.     The  ruined  aqueduct, 
the  broken  column,  the  desolated  city,  suggest  no  ideas  but 
of  dignity  and  reverence.     No  one  is  ashamed  of  a  misery 
which  bears  witness  to  his  grandeur.     If  we  should  persuade 
a  laborer  that  the  blood  of  princes  flows  in   his  veins,  we 
might  spoil  his  contentment  with  the  only  lot  he  has  drawn, 
but  scarcely  kill  in  him  the  seeds  of  pride. 

41.  Pascal,   like   many  others  who   have   dwelt   on   this 
alleged  degeneracy  of  mankind,  seems  never  to  have  disen- 
tangled his  mind  from  the  notion,  that  what  we  call  human 
nature  has  not  merely  an  arbitrary  and  grammatical,  but  an 
intrinsic  objective  reality.     The  common  and  convenient  forms 
of  language,  the  analogies  of  sensible  things,  which  the  imagi- 
nation readily  supplies,  conspire  to  delude  us  into  this  fallacy. 
Yet  though  each  man  is  born  with  certain  powers  and  disposi- 
tions which  constitute  his  own  nature,  and  the  resemblance  of 
these  in  all  his  fellows  produces  a  general  idea,  or  a  collective 
appellation,  whichever  we  may  prefer  to  say,  called  the  nature 
of  man,  few  would  in  this  age  explicitly  contend  for  the  exist- 
ence of  this  as  a  substance  capable  of  qualities,  and  those 
qualities  variable,  or  subject  to  mutation.     The  corruption  of 
human  nature  is  therefore  a  phrase  which   may  convey  an 
intelligible  meaning,  if  it  is  acknowledged  to  be  merely  ana- 
logical and  inexact,  but  will  mislead  those  who  do  not  keep 
this  in  mind.     Man's  nature,  as  it  now  is,  that  which  each 
man  and  all  men  possess,  is  the  immediate  workmanship  of 
God,  as  much  as  at  his  creation ;  nor  is  any  other  hypothesis 
consistent  with  theism. 

42.  This  notion  of  a  real  universal  in  human  nature  pre- 

1  (Euvres  de  Pascal,  vol  i.  p.  121. 


50  PASCAL.  PAHT  IV. 

Bents  to  us  in  an  exaggerated  light  those  anomalies  from 
which  writers  of  Pascal's  school  are  apt  to  infer  some  va.st 
change  in  our  original  constitution.  Exaggerated,  I  say;  for 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  we  frequently  perceive  a  sort  of  inco- 
herence, as  it  appears  at  least  to  our  defective  vision,  in  the 
same  individual ;  and,  like  threads  of  various  hues  shot 
through  one  web,  the  love  of  vice  and  of  virtue,  the  strength 
and  weakness  of  the  heart,  are  wonderfully  blended  in  self- 
contradictory  and  self-destroying  conjunction.  But,  even  if 
we  should  fail  altogether  in  solving  the  very  first  steps  of  this 
problem,  there  is  no  course  for  a  reasonable  being  except  to 
acknowledge  the  limitations  of  his  own  faculties  ;  and  it  seems 
rather  unwarrantable,  on  the  credit  of  this  humble  confession, 
that  we  do  not  comprehend  the  depths  of  what  has  been  with- 
held from  us,  to  substitute  something  far  more  incomprehensi- 
ble and  revolting  to  our  moral  and  rational  capacities  in  its 
place.  "  What,"  says  Pascal,  "  can  be  more  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  our  wretched  justice,  than  to  damn  eternally  an  infant 
incapable  of  volition  for  an  offence  wherein  he  seems  to  have 
had  no  share,  and  which  was  committed  six  thousand  years 
before  he  was  born?  Certainly,  nothing  shocks  us  more 
rudely  than  this  doctrine ;  and  yet,  without  this  mystery,  the 
most  incomprehensible  of  all,  we  are  incomprehensible  to  our- 
selves. Man  is  more  inconceivable  without  this  mystery,  than 
the  mystery  is  inconceivable  to  man." 

43.  It  might  be  wandering  from  the  proper  subject  of  these 
volumes  if  we  were  to  pause,  even  shortly,  to  inquire  whether, 
while  the  creation  of  a  world  so  full  of  evil  must  ever  remain 
the  most  inscrutable  of  mysteries,  we  might  not  be  led  some 
way  in  tracing  the  connection  of  moral  and  physical  evil  in 
mankind  with  his  place  in  that  creation ;  and,  especially, 
whether  the  law  of  continuity,  which  it  has  not  pleased  his 
Maker  to  break  with  respect  to  his  bodily  structure,  and 
which  binds  that,  in  the  unity  of  one  great  type,  to  the  lower 
forms  of  animal  life  by  the  common  conditions  of  nourishment, 
reproduction,  and  self-defence,  has  not  rendered  necessary 
both  the  physical  appetites  and  the  propensities  which  termi- 
nate in  self;  whether,  again,  the  superior  endowments  of  his 
intellectual  nature,  his  susceptibility  of  moral  emotion,  and  of 
those  disinterested  affections,  which,  if  not  exclusively,  he  far 
more  intensely  possesses  than  any  inferior  being ;  above  all, 
the  gifts  of  conscience,  and  a  capacity  to  know  God,  —  might 


CHAP.  II.  VINDICATIONS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  51 

not  be  expected,  even  beforehand,  by  their  conflict  with  the 
animal  passions,  to  produce  some  partial  inconsistencies,  some 
anomalies  at  least,  which  he  could  not  himself  explain,  in  so 
compound  a  being.  Every  link  in  the  long  chain  of  creation 
does  not  pass  by  easy  transition  into  the  next.  There  are 
necessary  chasms,  and,  as  it  were,  leaps,  from  one  creature  to 
another,  which,  though  not  exceptions  to  the  law  of  conti- 
nuity, are  accommodations  of  it  to  a  new  series  of  being.  If 
man  was  made  in  the  image  of  God,  he  was  also  made  in  the 
image  of  an  ape.  The  framework  of  the  body  of  him  who 
has  weighed  the  stars,  and  made  the  lightning  his  slave, 
approaches  to  that  of  a  speechless  brute  who  wanders  in  the 
forests  of  Sumatra.  Thus  standing  on  the  frontier  land  be- 
tween animal  and  angelic  natures,  what  wonder  that  he  should 
partake  of  both !  But  these  are  things  which  it  is  difficult  to 
touch ;  nor  would  they  have  been  here  introduced,  but  in 
order  to  weaken  the  force  of  positions  so  confidently  asserted 
by  many,  and  so  eloquently  by  Pascal. 

44.  Among  the  works  immediately  designed  to  confirm  the 
truth  of  Christianity,  a  certain  reputation  was  ac-  vjndica. 
quired,  through  the  known  erudition  of  its  author,  tions  of 
by  the  Demonstratio  Evangelica  of  Huet,  Bishop  ct 
of  Avranches.  This  is  paraded  with  definitions,  axioms,  and 
propositions,  in  order  to  challenge  the  name  it  assumes.  But 
the  axioms,  upon  which  so  much  is  to  rest,  are  often  question- 
able or  equivocal ;  as,  for  instance :  "  Omnis  prophetia  est 
verax,  quse  prasdixit  res  eventu  deinde  completas ; "  equivocal 
in  the  word  verax.  Huet  also  confirms  his  axioms  by  argu- 
ment, which  shows  that  they  are  not  truly  such.  The  whole 
book  is  full  of  learning ;  but  he  frequently  loses  sight  of  the 
points  he  would  prove,  and  his  quotations  fall  beside  the  mark. 
Yet  he  has  furnished  much  to  others,  and  possibly  no  earlier 
work  on  the  same  subject  is  so  elaborate  and  comprehensive. 
The  next  place,  if  not  a  higher  one,  might  be  given  to  the 
treatise  of  Abbadie,  a  French  refugee,  published  in  1684. 
His  countrymen  bestow  on  it  the  highest  eulogies ;  but  it  was 
never  so  well  known  in  England,  and  is  now  almost  forgotten. 
The  oral  conferences  of  Limborch  with  Orobio,  a  Jew  of  con- 
siderable learning  and  ability,  on  the  prophecies  relating  to 
the  Messiah,  were  reduced  into  writing,  and  published:  they 
are  still  in  some  request.  No  book  of  this  period,  among 
many  that  were  written,  reached  so  high  a  refutation  in 


52  PROGRESS  OF  TOLERATION  PART  IV 

England  as  Leslie's  Short  Method  with  the  Deists,  published 
in  1694;  in  which  he  has  started  an  argument,  pursued  with 
more  critical  analysis  by  others,  on  the  peculiarly  distinctive 
marks  of  credibility  that  pertain  to  the  scriptural  miracles. 
The  authenticity  of  this  little  treatise  has  been  idly  ques- 
tioned on  the  Continent,  for  no  better  reason  than  that  a 
translation  of  it  has  been  published  in  a  posthumous  edition 
(1732)  of  the  works  of  Saint  Real,  who  died  in  1692.  But 
posthumous  editions  are  never  deemed  of  sufficient  authority 
to  establish  a  literary  title  against  possession;  and  Prosper 
Marchand  informs  us  that  several  other  tracts,  in  this  edition 
of  Saint  Real,  are  erroneously  ascribed  to  him.  The  internal 
evidence  that  the  Short  Method  was  written  by  a  Protestant 
should  be  conclusive.1 

45.  Every  change  in  public  opinion  which  this  period  wit- 
Progress  of  nessed  confirmed  the  principles  of  religious  toleration 
tolerant  that  had  taken  root  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  cen- 
tury :  the  progress  of  a  larger  and  more  catholic 
theology,  the  weakening  of  bigotry  in  the  minds  of  laymen, 
and  the  consequent  disregard  of  ecclesiastical  clamor,  not  only 
in  England  and  Holland,  but  to  a  considerable  extent  in 
France ;  we  might  even  add,  the  violent  proceedings  of  the 
last  government  in  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and 
the  cruelties  which  attended  it.  Louis  XIV.,  at  a  time  when 
mankind  were  beginning  to  renounce  the  very  theory  of  per- 
secution, renewed  the  ancient  enormities  of  its  practice,  and 
thus  unconsciously  gave  the  aid  of  moral  sympathy  and  indig- 
nation to  the  adverse  argument.  The  Protestant  refugees  of 
France,  scattered  among  their  brethren,  brought  home  to  all 
minds  the  great  question  of  free  conscience ;  not  with  the 

1  The  Biographie  TJniverselle,  art.  "  Les-  posed  author's  death,  without  attestation, 
lie,"  says, "  Get  ouvrage,  qui  passe  pour  ce  is  no  literary  evidence  at  all,  even  wher* 
qu'il  a  fait  de  mieux.  lui  a  ete  conteste.  the  book  is  published  for  the  first  time, 
£e  Docteur  Qleigh  [sic]  a  fait  de  grands  much  less  where  it  has  a  known  status  n» 
efforts  pour  prouver  qu'il  appartenait  i  the  production  of  a  certain  author.  This 
Leslie,  quoiqu'il  tut  publi6  parmi  les  ou-  is  so  manifest  to  any  one  who  has  the 
vrages  de  1'Abbe  de  Saint  Real,  mort  en  slightest  tincture  of  critical  judgment,  that 
1692."  It  is  melancholy  to  see  this  petty  we  need  not  urge  the  palpable  improba- 
gpirit  of  cavil  against  an  English  writer  in  bility  of  ascribing  to  Saint  Real,  a  Romish 
BO  respectable  a  work  as  the  Biographie  ecclesiastic,  an  argument  which  turns  pe- 
Universelle.  No  grands  efforts  could  be  culiarly  on  the  distinction  between  the 
required  from  Dr.  Gleig  or  any  one  else  to  scriptural  miracles  and  those  alleged  upon 
prove  that  a  book  was  written  by  Leslie,  inferior  evidence.  I  have  lost,  or  never 
which  bore  his  name,  which  was  addressed  made,  the  reference  to  Prosper  Marchand ; 
to  an  English  peer,  and  had  gone  through  but  the  passage  will  be  found  in  hie  Die- 
many  editions,  when  there  is  literally  no  tionnaire  llistorique,  which  contains  a  full 
claimant  on  the  other  side ;  for  a  posthu-  article  on  Saint  Heal. 
Bious  edition,  forty  years  after  the  sup- 


CHAP.  II.  BATLE  — LOCKE.  53 

stupid  and  impudent  limitation  which  even  Protestants  had 
sometimes  employed,  that  truth  indeed  might  not  be  re- 
strained, but  that  error  might :  a  broader  foundation  was  laid 
bj  the  great  advocates  of  toleration  in  this  period, — Bayle, 
Limborch,  and  Locke,  —  as  it  had  formerly  been  by  Taylor 
and  Episcopius.1 

46.  Bayle,  in  1686,  while  yet  the  smart  of  his  banishment 
was  keenly  felt,  published  his  Philosophical   Com-   Bayie's 
mentary  on  the  text  in  Scripture,  "  Compel  them  to   p£^°" 
come  in ; "  a  text  which  some  of  the  advocates  of   Comment- 
persecution  were  accustomed  to  produce.     He  gives  ary' 

in  the  first  part  nine  reasons  against  this  literal  meaning, 
among  which  none  are  philological.  In  the  second  part,  he 
replies  to  various  objections.  This  work  of  Bayle  does  not 
seem  to  me  as  subtle  and  logical  as  he  was  wont  to  be,  not- 
withstanding the  formal  syllogisms  with  which  he  commences 
each  of  his  chapters.  His  argument  against  compulsory  con- 
versions, which  the  absurd  interpretation  of  the  text  by  his 
adversaries  required,  is  indeed  irresistible ;  but  this  is  far 
from  sufficiently  establishing  the  right  of  toleration  itself.  It 
appears  not  very  difficult  for  a  skilful  sophist,  and  none  was 
more  so  than  Bayle  himself,  to  have  met  some  of  his  reason- 
ing with  a  specious  reply.  The  sceptical  argument  of  Taylor, 
that  we  can  rarely  be  sure  of  knowing  the  truth  ourselves, 
and  consequently  of  condemning  in  others  what  is  error,  he 
touches  but  slightly ;  nor  does  he  dwell  on  the  political  advan- 
tages which  experience  hag  shown  a  full  toleration  to  po- 
In  the  third  part  of  the  Philosophical  Commentary,  he  refutes 
the  apology  of  Augustin  for  persecution ;  and,  a  few  years 
afterwards,  he  published  a  supplement  answering  a  book  of 
Jurieu,  which  had  appeared  in  the  mean  time. 

47.  Locke  published  anonymously  his  Letter  on  Toleration 
in  1689.     The  season  was  propitious:  a  legal  tole-   j^^.g 
ranee  of  public  worship  had  first  been  granted  to  the   Letter  on 
dissenters  after  the  Revolution,  limited  indeed  to  such 

a?  held  most  of  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  but  preparing  the 
nation  for  a  more  extensive  application  of  its  spirit.  In 
the  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  Taylor  had  chiefly  in  view  to 

1  The  Dutch  clergy,  and  a  French  min-  of  general  toleration,  and  the  moderate  or 

Jster  in  Holland,  Jurien,  of  great  polemical  liberal  principles  in  religion  which  were 

fame  in  his  day,  though  now  chiefly  known  connected  with  it.     Le  Clerc  passed  his  life 

by  means  of  his  adversaries,  Bayle  and  Le  in  fighting  this  battle  :  and  many  articles 

Clerc,  strenur  usly  resisted  both  the  theory  in  the  Bibliotheque  Uniyeiselle  relate  to  it 


54  LOCKE.  PART  F9. 

deduce  the  justice  of  tolerating  a  diversity  in  religion,  from 
the  difficulty  of  knowing  the  truth.  He  is  not  very  consistent 
as  to  the  political  question,  and  limits  too  narrowly  the  pro- 
vince of  tolerable  opinions.  Locke  goes  more  expressly  to 
the  right  of  the  civil  magistrate,  not  omitting,  but  dwelling 
less  forcibly  on,  the  chief  arguments  of  his  predecessor.  His 
own  theory  of  government  came  to  his  aid.  The  clergy  in 
general,  and  perhaps  Taylor  himself,  had  derived  the  magis- 
trate's jurisdiction  from  paternal  power.  And,  as  they  appa- 
rently assumed  this  power  to  extend  over  adult  children,  it 
was  natural  to  give  those  who  succeeded  to  it  in  political  com- 
munities a  large  sway  over  the  moral  and  religious  behavior 
of  subjects.  Locke,  adopting  the  opposite  theory  of  compact, 
defines  the  commonwealth  to  be  a  society  of  men  constituted 
only  for  the  procuring,  preserving,  and  advancing  their  own 
civil  interests.  He  denies  altogether,  that  the  care  of  souls 
belongs  to  the  civil  magistrate,  as  it  has  never  been  committed 
to  him.  "  All  the  power  of  civil  government  relates  only  to 
men's  civil  interests,  is  confined  to  the  things  of  this  world, 
and  hath  nothing  to  do  with  the  world  to  come." l 

48.  The  admission  of  this  principle  would  apparently  decide 
the  controversy,  so  far  as  it  rests  on  religious  grounds.  But 
Locke  has  recourse  to  several  other  arguments  independent  of 
it.  He  proves,  with  no  great  difficulty,  that  the  civil  power 
cannot  justly,  or  consistently  with  any  true  principle  of  reli- 
gion, compel  men  to  profess  what  they  do  not  believe.  This, 
however,  is  what  very  few  would,  at  present,  be  inclined  to 
maintain.  The  real  question  was  as  to  the  publicity  of  opin- 
ions deemed  heterodox,  and  especially  in  social  worship  ;  and 
this  is  what  those  who  held  the  magistrate  to  possess  an 
authority  patriarchal,  universal,  and  arbitrary,  and  who  were 
also  rigidly  tenacious  of  the  necessity  of  an  orthodox  faith,  as 
well  as  perfectly  convinced  that  it  was  no  other  than  their 
own,  would  hardly  be  persuaded  to  admit  by  any  arguments 
that  Locke  has  alleged.  But  the  tendency  of  public  opinion 

1  [This  principle,  that  the  civil  magis-  not  less  decision  and  courage.  I  cannot, 
trate  is  not  concerned  with  religion  as  nevertheless,  admit  the  principle  as  a  con- 
true,  but  only  as  useful,  was  strenuously  elusion  from  their  premises,  though  very 
main '/lined  by  Warburton.  in  his  Alliance  desirous  to  preserve  it  on  other  grouinN. 
of  Church  and  State.  It  Is  supported  on  The  late  respected  Dr.  Arnold  was  exccfl- 
ecriptural  grounds  by  Uoadly,  in  his  ingly  embarrassed  by  denying  its  truth, 
famous  sermon  which  produced  the  Ban-  while  he  was  strenuous  for  toleration  in 
gorian  controversy;  and  by  Archbishop  the  amplest  measure;  which  leaves  hU 
Whately,  in  a  sermon  on  the  same  text  as  writings  on  the  subject  unsatisfactory,  and 
Hoadly's,  "My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  weak  against  an  adversary.  — 1847] 
world ;"  but  with  more  closeness,  though 


CHAP.  H.  FKENCH  SERMONS.  55 

had  begun  to  manifest  itself  against  all  these  tenets  of  the 
high-church  party,  so  that,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  prin- 
ciples of  general  tolerance  became  too  popular  to  be  disputed 
with  any  chance  of  attention.  Locke  was  engaged  in  a  con- 
troversy through  his  first  Letter  on  Toleration,  which  produced 
a  second  and  a  third ;  but  it  does  not  appear  to  me  that  these, 
though  longer  than  the  first,  have  considerably  modified  its 
leading  positions.1  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  he  pleads  for  the 
universal  toleration  of  all  modes  of  worship  not  immoral  in 
their  nature,  or  involving  doctrines  inimical  to  good  govern- 
ment ;  placing  in  the  latter  category  some  tenets  of  the 
Church  of  Rome. 

49.  It  is  confessed  by  Goujet,  that,  even  in  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  France  could  boast  very  French 
little  of  pulpit  eloquence.     Frequent  quotations  from  "e^0118- 
heathen   writers,    and  from   the  schoolmen,  with  little  solid 
morality  and  less  good  reasoning,  make  up  the  sermons  of 
that  age.2     But  the  revolution  in  this  style,  as  in  all  others, 
though  perhaps  gradual,  was  complete  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.     A  slight  sprinkling  of  passages  from  the  fathers,  and 
still  more  frequently  from  the  Scriptures,  but  always  short, 
and  seeming  to  rise  out  of  the  preacher's  heart,  rather  than  to 
be  sought  for  in  his  memory,  replaced  that  intolerable  parade 
of  a  theological  commonplace  book,  which  had  been  as  cus- 
tomary in  France  as  in  England.     The  style  was  to  be  the 
perfection    of   French   eloquence,   the   reasoning   persuasive 
rather  than  dogmatic,  the  arrangement  more  methodical  and 
distributive  than  at  present,  but  without  the  excess  we  find  in 
our  old  preachers.     This  is  the  general  character  of  French 
sermons ;  but  those  who  most  adorned  the  pulpit  had  of  course 
their   individual  distinctions.     Without  delaying  to  mention 
those  who  are  now  not  greatly  remembered,  such  as  La  Rue, 
Hubert,  Mascaron,  we  must  confine  ourselves  to  three  of  high 
reputation, —  Bourdaloue,  Bossuet,  and  Flechier. 

50.  Bourdaloue,  a  Jesuit,  but  as  little  of  a  Jesuit  in  the 
worst  acceptation  of  the  word  as  the  order  has  produced,  is 
remarkably  eimple,  earnest,  practical:   he   convinces   rather 

1  Warburton  has  fancied  that  Locke's  arguments  built  on  received  opinions  would 

real  sentiments  are  only  discoverable  in  have  greatest  weight,  and  make  quickest 

his  first  Letter  on  Toleration,  and  that  in  impression  on  the  body  of   the    people 

the  two  latter  he  "combats  his  intole-  whom    it   was   his  business  to  gain."  — 

rant  adversary  quite  through  the  contro-  Biogr.  Britanuica,  art.  "  Locke." 

versy  with  his  own  principles,  well  fore-  2  liibliotheque  Francaise,  yol.  il.  p.  283 
set-in?   that,  at  such  a  time  of  prejudice, 


56  BOURDALOUE  AND  BOSSUET.  PART  IV 

than  commands,  and  by  convincing  he  persuades ;  for  his  dis- 
Bourda-  courses  tend  always  to  some  duty,  to  something  that 
is  to  he  done  or  avoided.  His  sentences  are  short, 
interrogative,  full  of  plain  and  solid  reasoning,  unambitious  in 
expression,  and  wholly  without  that  care  in  the  choice  of 
words  and  cadences  which  we  detect  in  Bossuet  and  Flechier. 
No  one  would  call  Bourdaloue  a  rhetorician ;  and,  though  he 
continually  introduces  the  fathers,  he  has  not  caught  their 
vices  of  language.1 

51.  Bourdaloue  is  almost  in  the  same  relation  to  Bossuet 
Compared    a9  Patru  to  Le  Maistre,  though  the  two  orators  of 
•with  BOB-     the  pulpit  are  far  above  those  of  the  bar.     As  the 

one  is  short,  condensed,  plain,  reasoning,  and,  though 
never  feeble,  not  often  what  is  generally  called  eloquent ;  so 
the  other  is  animated,  figurative,  rather  diffuse  and  prodi- 
gal of  ornament,  addressing  the  imagination  more  than  the 
judgment,  rich  and  copious  in  cadence,  elevating  the  hearer 
to  the  pitch  of  his  own  sublimity.  Bossuet  is  sometimes  too 
declamatory,  and  Bourdaloue  perhaps  sometimes  borders  on 
dryness.  Much  in  the  sermons  of  the  former  is  true  poetry ; 
but  he  has  less  of  satisfactory  and  persuasive  reasoning  than 
the  latter.  His  tone  is  also,  as  in  all  his  writings,  too  domi- 
neering and  dogmatical  for  those  who  demand  something 
beyond  the  speaker's  authority  when  they  listen. 

52.  The  sermons,  however,  of  Bossuet,  taken  generally,  are 
Funeral       no*  reckoned  in  the  highest  class  of  his  numerous 
discourses    writings :  perhaps  scarcely  justice  has  been  clone  to 

ue '  them.  His  genius,  on  the  other  hand,  by  universal 
confession,  never  shone  higher  than  in  the  six  which  bear  the 
name  of  Oraisons  Funebres.  They  belong  in  substance  so 
much  more  naturally  to  the  province  of  eloquence  than  of 
theology,  that  I  should  have  reserved  them  for  another  plat -e, 
if  the  separation  would  not  have  seemed  rather  unexpected  to 
the  reader.  Few  works  of  genius  perhaps  in  the  French 
language  are  better  known,  or  have  been  more  prodigally  ex- 
tolled. In  that  style  of  eloquence  which  the  ancients  called 

1  The  public  did  justice  to  Bourdaloue,  1'ont  egalement  estime  et  admire..  C'est 

as  they  generally  do  to  a  solid  and  im-  qu'il  avoit  reuni  en  sa  pereonne  tous  Ics 

pressive  style  of  preaching.     "Je  crois,"  grands  caracteres  de  la  bonne  eloquence ; 

says  Goujet,  p.  300,  "  quo  tout  le  monde  la  simplicite   du  diacours  Chretien   avcc 

convient  qu'aucun  autre  ne  lui  est  supe-  la  majeste  et  la  grandeur,  le  sublime  :m -c 

rieur.     C'est  le  grand  maitre  pour  1'elo-  1'intelligible  et  le  populaire,  la  force  :m-c 

quence  de  la  chaire;  c'est  le  prince  des  la  douceur,  la  vehemence  avec  1'onction.  la 

predicateurs.     Le  public  n'a  jamais  et£  liberte  avec   la  justes.se.  et  la   plus   vive 

fartage  sur  sou  sujet;  la  ville  et  la  cour  ardeur  avec  la  plus  pure  lumiere." 


CHAP.  II.  BOSSUET.  57 

demonstrative,  or  rather  descriptive  (em&wcTiKdf),  the  style  of 
panegyric  or  commemoration,  they  are  doubtless  superior  to 
those  justly  celebrated  productions  of  Thucydides  and  Plato 
that  have  descended  to  us  from  Greece ;  nor  has  Bossuet  been 
equalled  by  any  later  writer.  Those  on  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land, on  her  daughter  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  and  on  the 
Prince  of  Conde,  outshine  the  rest ;  and,  if  a  difference  is  to 
be  made  among  these,  we  might  perhaps,  after  some  hesitation, 
confer  the  palm  on  the  first.  The  range  of  topics  is  so  vari- 
ous, the  thoughts  so  just,  the  images  so  noble  and  poetical,  the 
whole  is  in  such  perfect  keeping,  the  tone  of  awful  contem- 
plation is  so  uniform,  that,  if  it  has  not  any  passages  of  such 
extraordinary  beauty  as  occur  in  the  other  two,  its  general 
effect  on  the  mind  is  more  irresistible.1 

53.  In  this  style,  much  more  of  ornament,  more  of  what 
speaks  in  the  spirit,  and  even  the  very  phrase,  of  poetry,  to 
the  imagination  and  the  heart,  is  permitted  by  a  rigorous 
criticism,  than  in  forensic  or  in  deliberative  eloquence.  The 
beauties  that  rise  before  the  author's  vision  are  not  re- 
nounced ;  the  brilliant  colors  of  his  fancy  are  not  subdued ; 
the  periods  assume  a  more  rhythmical  cadence,  and  emulate, 
like  metre  itself,  the  voluptuous  harmony  of  musical  intervals : 
the  whole  composition  is  more  evidently  formed  to  delight ; 
but  it  will  delight  to  little  purpose,  or  even  cease,  in  any 
strong  sense  of  the  word,  to  do  so  at  all,  unless  it  is  ennobled 
by  moral  wisdom.  In  this,  Bossuet  was  pre-eminent :  his 
thoughts  are  never  subtle  or  far-fetched  ;  they  have  a  sort  of 
breadth,  a  generality  of  application,  which  is  peculiarly  re- 
quired in  those  who  address  a  mixed  assembly,  and  which 
many  that  aim  at  what  is  profound  and  original  are  apt  to 
miss.  It  may  be  confessed,  that  these  funeral  discourses  are 
not  exempt  from  some  defects,  frequently  inherent  in  pane- 
gyrical eloquence  ;  they  are  sometimes  too  rhetorical,  and  do 

1  An  English  preacher  of  conspicuous  the  manly  grief  of  an  entire  nation  in  the 
renown  for  eloquence  was  called  upon,  withering  of  those  visions  of  hope  which 
within  no  great  length  of  time,  to  emu-  wait  upon  the  untried  youth  of  royalty,  in 
late  the  funeral  discourse  of  Bossuet  on  its  sympathy  with  grandeur  annihilated, 
the  sudden  death  of  Henrietta  of  Orleans,  with  beauty  and  innocence  precipitated 
lie  had  before  him  a  subject  incomparably  into  the  tomb.  Nor  did  he  sink  beneath  his 
more  deep  in  interest,  more  fertile  in  great  subject,  except  as  compared  with  Bossuet. 
and  touching  associations :  he  had  to  de-  The  sermon  to  which  my  allusion  will  be 
scribe,  not  the  false  sorrow  of  courtiers,  understood  is  esteemed  by  many  the  finest 
not  the  shriek  of  sudden  surprise  that  effort  of  this  preacher;  but,  if  read  to- 
echoed  by  night  in  the  halls  of  Versailles,  gctlier  with  that  of  its  prototype,  it  will 
not  the  apocryphal  penitence  of  one  so  be  laid  aside  as  almost  feeble  and  uuiui 
tainted  by  the  world's  intercourse,  but  pressive. 


58  FLfiCIIIER.  PAKT  IV. 

not  appear  to  show  so  little  effort  as  some  have  fancied  ;  the 
amplifications  are  sometimes  too  unmeasured;  the  language 
sometimes  borders  too  nearly  on  that  of  the  stage ;  above  all, 
there  is  a  tone  of  adulation  not  quite  pleasing  to  a  calm 
posterity. 

54.  Flechier  (the  third  name  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
*°r  ^ass^^on  belongs  only  to  the  next),  like  Bossuet, 
has  been  more  celebrated  for  his  funeral  sermons 
than  for  any  others ;  but  in  this  line  it  is  unfortunate  for  him 
to  enter  into  unavoidable  competition  with  one  whom  he  can- 
not rival.  The  French  ciitics  extol  Fleshier  for  the  arrange- 
ment and  harmony  of  his  periods  ;  yet  even  in  this,  according 
to  La  Harpe,  he  is  not  essentially  superior  to  Bossuet ;  and  to 
an  English  ear,  accustomed  to  the  long  swell  of  our  own 
writers  and  of  the  Ciceronian  school  in  Latin,  he  will  proba- 
blj  not  give  so  much  gratification.  He  does  not  want  a  moral 
dignity,  or  a  certain  elevation  of  thought,  without  which  the 
funeral  panegyric  must  be  contemptible :  but  he  has  not 
the  majestic  tone  of  Bossuet ;  he  does  not,  like  him,  raise  the 
heroes  and  princes  of  the  earth  in  order  to  abase  them  by 
paintings  of  mortality  and  weakness  ;  or  recall  the  hearer  in 
every  passage  to  something  more  awful  than  human  power, 
and  more  magnificent  than  human  grandeur.  This  religious 
solemnity,  so  characteristic  in  Bossuet,  is  hardly  felt  in  the  less 
emphatic  sentences  of  Flechier.  Even  where  his  exordium 
is  almost  worthy  of  comparison,  as  in  the  funeral  discourse 
on  Turenne,  we  find  him  degenerate  into  a  trivial  eulogy,  and 
he  flatters  both  more  profusely  and  with  less  skill.  His  style 
is  graceful,  but  not  without  affectation  and  false  taste.1  La 
Harpe  has  compared  him  to  Isocrates  among  the  orators  of 
Greece ;  the  place  of  Demosthenes  being,  of  course,  reserved 
for  Bossuet.2 

1  (La  Harpe  justly  ridicules  an  expres-  foonery.    "  The  language  of  Segneri,"  th« 
sion  of  Flechier,  in  his  funeral  sermon  on  same  writer  observes,  '•  is  always  full  of 
Madame  de  Montausier :"  Un  ancien  disait  dignity  and  harmony.    He  inlaid  it  with 
autrefois  que  leg  homines  etaient  nes  pour  splendid  and  elegant  expressions,  and  has 
1'action  et  pour  la  conduite  du  monde,  et  thus  obtained  a  place  among  the  authors 
que  les  dames  n'etaient  nees  que  pour  le  to  whom  authority  has  beeu  given  by  the 
repos  et  pour  la  retraite."  — 1842.]  Delia  Crusca  dictionary.    His  periods  are 

2  The  native  critics  ascribe  a  reform  in  flowing,  natural,  and  intelligible,  without 
the  style  of  preaching  to  Paolo  Segneri,  the    affectation  of   obsolete  Tuscauisms, 
whom  Corniani  does  not  hesitate  to  call,  which  pa.«s  for  graces  of  the  language  with 
with  the  sanction,  he  says,  of  posterity,  many."    Tiraboschi,  with  much  conuncn- 
the  father  of  Italian  eloquence.    It  is  to  d:ition  of  Segneri,  admits  that  we  find  in 
be  remembered,  that  in  no  country  has  the  him  some  vestiges  of  the  false  taste  he  en- 
pulpit  been  so  much  degraded  by  empty  deavorcd  to  reform.    The  very  little  that 
declamation,  and  even   by  a  stupid  buf  I  have  seen  of  the  sermons  if  Segueri  give* 


CHAP.  H.  BARROW.  59 

55.  TLe  style  of  preaching  in  England  was  less  ornamen- 
tal, and  spoke  less  to  the  imagination  and  affections,  „  „ 
than  these  celebrated  writers  of  the  Gallican  senLons: 
(  hurch ;  but  in  some  of  our  chief  divines  it  had  Barrow- 
it-  own  excellences.  The  sermons  of  Barrow  display  a 
strength  of  mind,  a  comprehensiveness  and  fertility,  which 
have  rarely  been  equalled.  No  better  proof  can  be  given 
than  his  eight  sermons  on  the  government  of  the  tongue : 
copious  and  exhaustive  without  tautology  or  superfluous 
declamation,  they  are,  in  moral  preaching,  what  the  best 
parts  of  Aristotle  are  in  ethical  philosophy,  with  more  of 
development  and  a  more  extensive  observation.  It  would  be 
said  of  these  sermons,  and  indeed,  with  a  few  exceptions,  of 
all  those  of  Barrow,  that  they  are  not  what  is  now  called 
evangelical :  they  indicate  the  ascendency  of  an  Arminian 
party,  dwelling,  far  more  than  is  usual  in  the  pulpit,  on 
moral  and  rational,  or  even  temporal  inducements,  and  some- 
tunes  hardly  abstaining  from  what  would  give  a  little  offence 
in  later  times.1  His  quotations  also  from  ancient  philoso- 
phers, though  not  so  numerous  as  in  Taylor,  are  equally 
uncongenial  to  our  ears.  In  his  style,  notwithstanding  its 
richness  and  occasional  vivacity,  we  may  censure  a  redun- 
dancy, and  excess  of  apposition  :  it  is  not  sufficient  to  avoid 
strict  tautology  ;  no  second  phrase  (to  lay  down  a  general 
rule  not  without  exception)  should  be  so  like  the  first,  that 
the  reader  would  naturally  have  understood  it  to  be  comprised 

no  impression  of  any  merit  that  can  be  poi  vi  fate  pregar  tanto  da  nn  Dio  per  TO! 

reckoned  more  than  relative  to  the  raise-  crocefisso?     O  confusione!     O  Titupero! 

rable  tone  of  his  predecessors.    The  fol-  Overgogna!" —  Raccolta  di  Prose  Italians 

lowing  specimen  is  from  one  of  his  most  (in  Classic!  Italiani),  vol.  ii.  p.  345. 
admired  sermons  :   "  E  Cristo  nen  potra        This  is  certainly  not  the  manner  of  Bos- 

ottenere  da  voi  che  gli  rimettiate  un  torto,  suet,  and  more  like  that  of  a  third-rate 

nn  aflronto,  nn  aggravio,  Una  parolina?  Methodist  among  us. 
Che  vorreste  da  Christo  ?    Vorreste  ch:  egli         1  Thus,  in    his    sermon   against  evil- 

vi  si  gettasse  supplichevole  a  piedi  a  chie-  speaking  (xvi.),  Barrow  treats  it  as  fit  '•  for 

dervi  questa  grazia?     lo  son  quasi  per  rustic  boors,  or  men  of  coarsest  education 

dire  ch'  egli  il  farebbe  ;   perche  se  non  and  employment,  who,  having  their  minds 

dubiti  di  prostrarsi  a  piedi  di  un  traditore,  debased  by  being  conversant  in  meanest 

qual'  era  Giuda.  di  lavarglieli.  di  aseiugar-  aflairs,  do  vent  their  sorry  passions,  and 

glieli,  di  baciarglieli.  non  si  vergognerebbe,  bicker  about  their  petty  concernments,  in 

cred'  io,  di  farsi  vedere  ginocchioni  a  pie  such  strains ;  who  also,  not  being  capable 

vo.-(tri.      Sla   vi    fa  bisogno  di  tanto    per  of  a  fair  reputation,  or  sensible  of  disgrace 

muovervi   a   compiacerlo?    Ah  Cavalieri,  to  themselves,  do  little  value  the  credit  of 

Cavjilieri,  io  non  vorrei  questa  volta  farvi  others,  or  care  for  aspersing  it.    But  such 

arrossire.    Xel  resto  io  so  di  certo,  che  se  language  is  unworthy  of  those  persons, 

altrettanto  fosse  a  voi  domandato  da  quella  and  cannot  easily  be  drawn  from  them, 

donna  che  chiamate  la  vostra  dama,  da  who  are  wont  to  exercise  their  thoughts 

quella,  di  cui  forsennati  idolatrate  il  volto,  about  nobler  matters,"  &c.    Xo  one  would 

tadovinate  le  voglie,  ambite  le  grazie,  non  venture  this  now  from  the  pulpit, 
vi  fiirete  pregar  tanto  a  concederglielo.    £ 


60  SOUTH  —  TILLOTSON.  PART  IV. 

therein.  Barrow's  language  is  more  antiquated  and  formal 
than  that  of  his  age ;  and  he  abounds  too  much  in  uncom- 
mon words  of  Latin  derivation,  frequently  such  as  appear  to 
have  no  authority  but  his  own. 

56.  South's  sermons  begin,  in  order  of  date,  before  the 

Restoration,  and  come  down  to  nearly  the  end  of 
the  century.  They  were  much  celebrated  at  the 
time,  and  retain  a  portion  of  their  renown.  This  is  by  no 
means  surprising.  South  had  great  qualifications  for  that 
popularity  which  attends  the  pulpit ;  and  his  manner  was  at 
that  time  original.  Not  diffuse,  not  learned,  not  formal  in 
argument  like  Barrow,  with  a  more  natural  structure  of  sen- 
tences ;  a  more  pointed,  though  by  no  means  a  more  fair  and 
satisfactory,  turn  of  reasoning ;  with  a  style  clear  and  English, 
free  from  all  pedantry,  but  abounding  with  those  colloquial 
novelties  of  idiom,  which,  though  now  become  vulgar  and 
offensive,  the  age  of  Charles  II.  affected ;  sparing  no  personal 
or  temporary  sarcasm,  but,  if  he  seems  for  a  moment  to  tread 
on  the  verge  of  buffoonery,  recovering  himself  by  some 
stroke  of  vigorous  sense  and  language,  —  such  was  the  witty 
Dr.  South,  whom  the  courtiers  delighted  to  hear.  His  sermons 
want  all  that  is  called  unction,  and  sometimes  even  earnest- 
ness, which  is  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  to  a  perpetual  tone  of 
gibing  at  rebels  and  fanatics  ;  but  there  is  a  masculine  spirit 
about  them,  which,  combined  with  their  peculiar  characteristics, 
would  naturally  fill  the  churches  where  he  might  be  heard. 
South  appears  to  bend  towards  the  Arminian  theology,  without 
adopting  so  much  of  it  as  some  of  his  contemporaries. 

57.  The  sermons  of  Tillotson  were  for  half  a  century 

more  read  than  any  in   our  language.      They  are 

Tillotson.  t,         ,  .      ,  4    i.      ji 

now  bought  almost  as  waste  paper,  and  hardly  read 
at  all.  Such  is  the  fickleness  of  religious  taste,  as  abundantly 
numerous  instances  would  prove.  Tillotson  is  reckoned  ver- 
bose and  languid.  He  has  not  the  former  defect  in  nearly  so 
great  a  degree  as  some  of  his  eminent  predecessors  ;  but  there 
is  certainly  little  vigor  or  vivacity'  in  his  style.  Full  of  the 
Romish  controversy,  he  is  perpetually  recurring  to  that 
"  world's  debate ; "  and  he  is  not  much  less  hostile  to  all 
the  Calvinistic  tenets.  What  is  most  remarkable  in  the 
theology  of  Tillotson,  is  his  strong  assertion,  in  almost  all  his 
sermons,  of  the  principles  of  natural  religion  and  morality, 
not  only  as  the  basis  of  all  revelation,  without  a  dependence 


CHAP.  n.  PEARSON".  61 

on  which  it  cannot  be  believed,  but  as  nearly  coincident  with 
Christianity  in  their  extent ;  a  length  to  which  few  at  present 
would  be  ready  to  follow  him.  Tillotson  is  always  of  a  tole- 
rant and  catholic  spirit,  enforcing  right  actions  rather  than 
orthodox  opinions,  and  obnoxious,  for  that  and  other  reasons, 
to  air  the  bigots  of  his  own  age. 

58.  It  has  become  necessary  to  draw  towards  a  conclusion 
of  this  chapter:   the  materials  are  far  from  being  Expository 
exhausted.     In  expository,  or,  as  some  call  it,  exe-  t116010^- 
getical  theology,  the  English  divines  had  already  taken  a 
conspicuous  station.     Andres,  no  partial  estimator  of  Protes- 
tant writers,  extols  them  with  marked  praise.1     Those  who 
belonged  to  the  earlier  part  of  the  century  form  a  portion  of 
a  vast  collection.  —  the  Critici  Sacri.  published  by  one  Bee,  a 
bookseller,  in  1660.     This  was  in  nine  folio  volumes;  and  in 
1669,  Matthew  Pool,  a  nonconforming  minister,  produced  his 
Synopsis  Criticorum  in  five  volumes ;  being  in  great  measure 
an  abridgment  and  digest  of  the  former.     Bee  complained  of 
the  infraction  of  his  copyright,  or  rather  his  equitable  interest ; 
but  such  a  dispute  hardly  pertains  to  our  history.2     The  work 
of  Pool  was  evidently  a  more  original  labor  than  the  former 
Hammond,  Patrick,  and  other  commentators,  do  honor  to  the 
Anglican  Church  in  the  latter  part  of  the  century. 

59.  Pearson's  Exposition  of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  published 
in  1659,  is  a  standard  book  in  English  divinity.     It   pearsonon 
expands,  beyond  the   literal   purport  of  the   creed  theCreed- 
itself,  to  most  articles  of  orthodox  belief,  and  is  a  valuable 
summary  of  arguments  and  authorities  on  that  side.     The 
closeness  of  Pearson,  and  his  judicious  selections  of  proofs, 
distinguish  him  from  many,  especially  the  earlier  theologians. 
Some  might  surmise  that  his  undeviating  adherence  to  what 
he  calls  the  church  is  hardly  consistent  with  independence  of 
thinking ;  but,  considered  as  an  advocate,  he  is  one  of  much 
judgment  and  skilL     Such  men  as  Pearson  and  Stillingfleet 
would  have  been  conspicuous  at  the  bar,  which  we  could  not 
quite  affirm  of  Jeremy  Taylor. 

60.  Simon,  a  regular  priest  of  the  congregation  called  The 
Oratory,  which  has  been  rich  in  eminent  men,  owes  much  of 
his  fame  to  his  Critical  History  of  the  Old  Testament.     This 
work,  bold  in  many  of  its  positions,  as  it  then  seemed  to  both 

1  ''  I  soil  Inglesi,  che  ampio  ppario  non  opera  ci  pennettesse  tener  dietro  a  tutti  i 
dorrebbrono  occupare  in  queato  capo  dell'  piii  degni  della  nostra  stima  ? ?'  —  Vol.  iii. 
esegttica  sacra,  se  V  istituto  della  nostr'  p.  253.  *  Chalmers 


62          WITCHCRAFT  AKD  OTHER  SUPERSTITIONS.    PART  IV. 

the  Catholic  and  Protestant  orthodox,  after  being  nearly 
Simon's  strangled  by  Bossuet  in  France,  appeared  at  Eot- 
Criticai  terdam  in  1685.  Bossuet  attacked  it  with  extreme 
ries'  vivacity,  but  with  a  real  inferiority  to  Simon  both 
in  learning  and  candor.1  Le  Clerc,  on  his  side,  carped  more 
at  the  Critical  History  than  it  seems  to  deserve.  Many  para- 
doxes, as  they  then  were  called,  in  this  famous  woi'k,  are  now 
received  as  truth,  or  at  least  pass  without  reproof.  Simon 
may  possibly  be  too  prone  to  novelty ;  but  a  love  of  truth  as 
well  as  great  acuteness  are  visible  throughout.  His  Critical 
History  of  the  New  Testament  was  published  in  1 689,  and 
one  or  two  more  works  of  a  similar  description  before  the 
close  of  the  century. 

61.  I  have  on  a  former  occasion  adverted,  in  a  correspond- 
ing chapter,  to  publications  on  witchcraft  and  similar  super- 
stitions. Several  might  be  mentioned  at  this  time :  the  belief 
in  such  tales  was  assailed  by  a  prevalent  scepticism  which 
called  out  their  advocates.  Of  these  the  most  unworthy  to 
have  exhibited  their  great  talents  in  such  a  cause  were  our 
own  philosophers,  Henry  More  and  Joseph  Glanvil.  The 
Sadducismus  Triumphatus,  or  Treatise  on  Apparitions,  by  the 
latter,  has  passed  through  several  editions ;  while  his  Scepsis 
Scientifica  has  hardly  been  seen,  perhaps,  by  six  living  per- 
sons. A  Dutch  minister,  by  name  Bekker,  raised  a  great 
clamor  against  himself  by  a  downright  denial  of  all  power  to 
the  devil,  and  consequently  to  his  supposed  instruments,  the 
ancient  beldams  of  Holland  and  other  countries.  His  Monde 
Enchante,  originally  published  in  Dutch,  is  hi  four  volumes, 
written  in  a  systematic  manner,  and  with  tedious  prolixity. 
There  was  no  ground  for  imputing  infidelity  to  the  author, 
except  the  usual  ground  of  calumniating  every  one  who  quits 
the  beaten  path  in  theology ;  but  his  explanations  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  the  case  of  the  demoniacs  and  the  like,  are,  as  usual 
with  those  who  have  taken  the  same  line,  rather  forced.  The 
fourth  volume,  which  contains  several  curious  stories  of  ima- 
gined possession,  and  some  which  resemble  what  is  now  called 
magnetism,  is  the  only  part  of  Bekker's  once-celebrated  book 
that  can  be  read  with  any  pleasure.  Bekker  was  a  Cartesian, 
and  his  theory  was  built  too  much  on  Cartesian  assumptions 
of  the  impossibility  of  spirit  acting  on  body. 

1  Defense  de  la  Tradition  dea  Saints    primee  i  Trevoux,  Id.  TO),   iv.   p.  318; 
P6res;   (Euvres  de  Bossuet,  vol.  v.,  and    Bausset,  Vie  de  Bossuet,  iv.  276. 
Instructions  sur  la  Version  du  N.  I.,  iin- 


-.  1H.  ARISTOTELIAN  METAPHYSICS.  G3 


CHAPTER  HI. 

HISTORY  OP  SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY  FROM  1650  TO  1700 


Aristotelians  —  Logicians  —  Cudwortb.  —  Sketch  of  the  Philosophy  of  Gas.sencli  - 
Cartesianism  —  Port-Royal  Logic  —  Analysis  of  the  Search  for  Truth  of  Male- 
branche,  and  of  the  Ethics  of  Spinosa  —  Glanvil  —  Locke'a  Essay  on  the  Human 
Understanding. 

1.  THE  Aristotelian  and  scholastic  metaphysics,  though 
shaken  on  every  side,  and  especially  by  the  rapid  Aristotelian 
progress  of  the  Cartesian  theories,  had  not  lost  their  metaphysics. 
hold  over  the  theologians  of  the  Roman  Church,  or  even 
the  Protestant  universities,  at  the  beginning  of  this  period, 
and  hardly  at  its  close.  Brucker  enumerates  several  writers 
of  that  class  in  Germany;1  and  we  find,  as  late  as  1693,  a 
formal  injunction  by  the  Sorbonne,  that  none  who  taught  phi- 
losophy in  the  colleges  under  its  jurisdiction  should  introduce 
any  novelties,  or  swerve  from  the  Aristotelian  doctrine.52  The 
Jesuits,  rather  unfortunately  for  their  credit,  distinguished 
themselves  as  strenuous  advocates  of  the  old  philosophy,  and 
thus  lost  the  advantage  they  had  obtained  in  philology  as 
enemies  of  barbarous  prejudice,  and  encouragers  of  a  progres- 
sive spirit  in  their  djfciples.  Rapin,  one  of  their  most  accom- 
plished men,  after  speaking  with  little  respect  of  the  Novura 
Organum,  extols  the  disputations  of  the  schools  as  the  best 
method  in  the  education  of  young  men,  who,  as  he  fancies, 
have  too  little  experience  to  delight  in  physical  science.3 

1  Vol.  iv.    See  his  long  and  laborious  Aristotelicse  doctrinae  studere.  quam  hac- 

ehapter  on  the  Aristotelian  philosophers  tenus  usurpatum  fuerit  in  Academil  Pa- 

of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centu-  risiensi,  censuit  Societas  injungendum  ess« 

ries :  no  one  else  seems  to  have  done  more  illis,  imo  et  iis  qui  docent  philosophiam  in 

than  copy  Brucker.                              .  collegiis  suo  regimiui  oreditis,  ne  deinoeps 

2  "  Cum  reiatum  esset  ad  Societatem  novitatibus  studeant,  aut  ab  Aristotelica 

(Sorbonicam)  nonnullos  philosophise  pro-  doctrina  deflectant.    31  Dec.  1693."  —  Ar- 

fessores,  ex  iis  etiam  aliquando  qui  ad  So-  gentre,  Collectio  Judiciorum,  ii.  150. 

cietatem    anhelant,   novas  quasdam   doc-  3   Reflexions  sur  la   Poetique,   p.  308. 

triiias  in  philosophicis  sectari,  iniiiusque  He  admits,  however,   that   to  introduce 


64  LuUlO.  PAST  IV. 

2.  It  is  a  difficult  and  dangerous  choice,  in  a  new  state  of 
public  opinion  (and  we  have  to  make  it  at  present), 
ciine!  e  between  that  which  may  itself  pass  away,  and  that 
wh"teM  which  must  efface  what  has  gone  before.  Those  who 
clung  to  the  ancient  philosophy  believed  that  Bacon 
and  Descartes  were  the  idols  of  a  transitory  fashion,  and  that 
the  wisdom  of  long  ages  would  regain  its  ascendency.  They 
were  deceived,  and  their  own  reputation  has  been  swept  off 
with  the  systems  to  which  they  adhered.  Thomas  White,  an 
English  Catholic  priest,  whose  Latin  appellation  is  Albius, 
endeavored  to  maintain  the  Aristotelian  metaphysics  and  the 
scholastic  terminology  in  several  works,  and  especially  in  an 
attack  upon  Glanvil's  Vanity  of  Dogmatizing.  This  book, 
entitled  Sciri,  I  know  only  through  Glanvil's  reply  in  his 
second  edition,  by  which  White  appears  to  be  a  mere  Aristo- 
telian, lie  was  a  friend  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  who  was  him- 
self, though  a  man  of  considerable  talents,  incapable  of  disen- 
tangling his  mind  from  the  Peripatetic  hypotheses.  The 
power  of  words  indeed  is  so  great ;  the  illusions  of  what  is 
called  realism,  or  of  believing  that  general  terms  have  an 
objective  exterior  being,  are  so  natural,  and  especially  so 
bound  up  both  with  our  notions  of  essential,  especially  theolo- 
gical, truth,  and  with  our  popular  language,  —  that  no  man 
could  in  that  age  be  much  censured  for  not  casting  off  his 
fetters,  e"ven  when  he  had  heard  the  call  to  liberty  from 
some  modern  voices.  We  find  that,  even  after  two  centuries 
of  a  better  method,  many  are  always  ready  to  fall  back  into  a 
verbal  process  of  theorizing. 

3.  Logic  was  taught  in  the  Aristotelian  method,  or  rather 

..  in  one  which,  with  some  change  for  the  worse,  had 

been    gradually    founded  upon   it.      Burgersdicius, 

in  this  and  in  other  sciences,  seems  to  have  been  in  repute  • 

Smiglecius  also  is  mentioned  with  praise.1     These  lived  both 

more  experiment  and  observation  would  Be  sert  la  religion  pour  s'expliquer  dans 

be  an  improvement.     "Du  reste  il  y  a  ap-  ses  decisions." 

parence  que    les  loix,  qui   ne  souffrent        1  "  La  Logique  de  Smiglecius,"  says  Ra- 

point  d'innovation  dans  1-usage  des  choses  pin,"estunbelourrage."  The  same  writer 

uuiversellement    etablies,    n'autoriseront  proceeds  to  observe,  that  the  Spaniard*  of 

point  d'autre  mcthode  que  celle  qui  est  the  preceding  century  had  corrupted  logic 

aujourd'hui    en  usage  dans   les   univer-  by  their  subtilties.    "Ensejetantdanndes 

rites ;  afin  de  ne  pas  donner  trop  de  li-  speculations  creuses  qui  n'avoient  rien  de 

pence  .1  la  passion  qu'on  a  naturellement  reel,   leurs    philosophes  trouvurent    I'sirt 

pour  les  nouvelles  opinions,  dont  le  cours  d'avoir  de  la  raison  malgre  le  bon  sens,  et 

est  d'une    dangereuse   consequence  dans  de  donner  de  la  couleur,  et  nieme  je  ne 

un  etat  bien  regie ;   vu  particulierement  scais  quo!  de  specieuse,  a  ce  qui  etoit  de 

que  la  philosophic  est  un  des  organes  dont  plus  deraisonnable."  —  p.  382.    But  this 


CHAP.  HI.     STANLEY'S  HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY.  65 

in  the  former  part  of  the  century.  But  they  were  superseded, 
at  least  in  England,  by  Wallis,  whose  Institutio  Logicse  ad 
Communes  Usus  Accommodata  was  published  in  1687.  He 
claims,  as  an  improvement  upon  the  received  system,  the 
classifying  singular  propositions  among  uuiversals.1  Bamus 
had  made  a  third  class  of  them,  and  in  this  he  seems  to  have 
been  generally  followed.  Aristotle,  though  it  does  not  appear 
that  he  is  explicit  on  the  subject,  does  not  rank  them  as  par- 
ticular. That  Wallis  is  right  will  not  be  doubted  by  any  one 
at  present ;  but  his  originality  we  must  not  assert.  The  same 
had  been  perceived  by  the  authors  of  the  Port- Royal  Logic  ; 
a  work  to  which  he  has  made  no  allusion.2  Wallis  claims  also 
as  his  own  the  method  of  reducing  hypothetical  to  categorical 
syllogisms,  and  proves  it  elaborately  in  a  separate  dissertation. 
A  smaller  treatise,  still  much  used  at  Oxford,  by  Aldrich, 
Compendium  Artis  Logicae,  1691,  is  clear  and  concise,  but 
seems  to  contain  nothing  very  important ;  and  he  alludes  to 
the  Art  de  Penser  in  a  tone  of  insolence,  which  must  rouse 
indignation  in'  those  who  are  acquainted  with  that  excellent 
work.  Aldrich's  censures  are,  in  many  instances,  mere  cavil 
and  misrepresentation :  I  do  not  know  that  they  are  right  in 
any.3  Of  the  Art  de  Penser  itself,  we  shall  have  something 
to  say  in  the  course  of  this  chapter. 

4.  Before  we  proceed  to  those  whose  philosophy  may  be 
reckoned  original,  or  at  least  modern,  a  very  few  de-  gtanl   . 
serve  mention  who  have  endeavored  to  maintain  or  History  of 
restore   that   of   antiquity.       Stanley's   History   of  1 
Philosophy,  in  1655,  is  in  great  measure  confined  to  biography, 

must  have  been  rather  the  fault  of  their  trina  recesserint ;  eoque  multa  introdux- 
metaphysics  than  of  what  is  strictly  erint  incommoda  de  quibus  BUO  loco  dice- 
called  logic.  *  tur." —  p.  125.  He  has  afterwards  a 
1  "  Atque  hoc  signanter  notatum  velim,  separate  dissertation  or  thesis  to  provn 
quia  novus  forte  hie  videar,  et  prseter  this  more  at  length.  It  seems  that  the 
aliorum  loquendi  formulam  hasc  dicere.  Ramists  held  a  third  class  of  propositions, 
Nam  plerique  logiei  propositionem  quam  neither  universal  nor  particular,  to  which 
vocant  singularem,  hoc  est,  de  subjecto  they  gave  the  name  of  propria,  equivalent 
Sndividuo  sive  singulari,  pro  particular!  to  singular. 

habent,  non  universal!.   Sed  perperam  hoc  3  Art  de  Penser.  part  ii.  chap.  iii. 

faciuat,    et   prseter    menteni    Aristotelis  3  One  of  Aldrich's  charges  against  the 

(qui.  quantum  memini,  nunquam  ejusmo-  author  of  the  Art  de  Penser  is,  that  he 

di  singularem,  TTJV  Kara  //epof  appellat  brings  forward  as  a  great  discovery  the 

aut  pro  tali  habet),  et  prseter  rei  naturam  :  equality  of  the  angles  of  a  chiliagon  to  1996 

Non  enim    hie  agitur  de   particularitate  nKht  ang'es  '  and  another  is,  that  he  gives 

subject!  (quod  aroaw  vocat  Aristotelis,  *?  an  exatople  of  a  regular  syllogism  one 

'  that  has  obviously  five  terms ;  thus  ex- 
Don  Kara  fiepo£)  sed  de  partiahtate  prse-  pecting  the  Oxford  students  for  whom  he 
dicationis.  .  .  .  Neque  ego  interim  novator  wrote  to  believe  that  Antony  Arnauld 
censendus  sum  qui  haec  dixerim,  sed  illi  neither  knew  the  first  book  of  Kuclid  nor 
potius  novatores  qui  ab  Aristotelica  doc-  the  mere  rudiments  of  common  logic. 

VOL.   IV.  6 


66  CUDWORTH'S  INTELLECTUAL  SYSTEM.      PART  IV. 

and  comprehends  no  name  later  than  Carneades.  Most  is 
derived  from  Diogenes  Laertius ;  but  an  analysis  of  the  Pla- 
tonic philosophy  is  given  from  Alcinous,  and  the  author  has 
compiled  one  of  the  Peripatetic  system  from  Aristotle  himself. 
The  doctrine  of  the  Stoics  is  also  elaborately  deduced  from 
various  sources.  Stanley,  on  the  whole,  brought  a  good  deal 
from  an  almost  untrodden  field  ;  but  he  is  merely  an  historian, 
and  never  a  critic  of  philosophy.1 

5.  Gale's  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  which  appeared  partly  in 
Gale's  Court  1669  and  partly  in  later  years,  is  incomparably  a 
of  GentUea.  more  learned  work  than  that  of  Stanley.     Its  aim  is 
to  prove  that  all  heathen  philosophy,  whether  barbaric  or 
Greek,  was  borrowed  from  the  Scriptures,  or  at  least  from  the 
Jews.     The  first  part  is  entitled,  Of  Philology,  which  traces 
the  same  leading  principle  by  means  of  language  ;  the  second, 
Of  Philosophy ;  the  third  treats  of  the  Vanity  of  Philosophy ; 
and  the  fourth,  of  Reformed  Philosophy,  "  wherein  Plato's 
moral  and  metaphysic  or  prime  philosophy  is  reduced  to  an 
usual  form  and  method."     Gale  has  been  reckoned,  among 
Platonic  philosophers,  and  indeed  he  professes  to  find  a  great 
resemblance  between  the  philosophy  of  Plato  and  his  own. 
But  he  is  a  determined  Calvinist  in  all  respects,  and  scruples 
n<5t  to  say,  "  Whatever  God  wills  is  just,  because  he  wills  it ; " 
and  again,  "  God  wijleth  nothing  without  himself  because  it 
is  just,  but  it  is  therefore  just  because  he  willeth  it.     The 
reasons  of  good  and  evil  extrinsic  to  the  divine  essence  are 
all  dependent  on  the  divine  will,  either  decernent  or  legisla- 
tive." 2     It  is  not  likely  that  Plato  would  have  acknowledged 
such  a  disciple. 

6.  A  much  more  eminent  and  enlightened  man  than  Gale, 
Cud  worth 's  Ralph  Cudworth,  by  his  Intellectual  System  of  the 
intellectual  Universe,   published  in  1678,   but  written  several 

years  before,  placed  himself  in  a  middle  point  be- 
tween the  declining  and  rising  schools  of  philosophy :  more 
independent  of  authority,  and  more  close  perhaps  in  argument, 
than  the  former;  but  more  prodigal  of  learning,  more  technical 
in  language,  and  less  conversant  with  analytical  and  inductive 

1  [In  former  editions,  througji  an  over-  for  the  source  of  thif  mistake,  which  was 

sight  altogether  inexplicable  by  me  at  pre-  courteously   pointed  out    to   ine  ;   but   I 

gent,  I  had  said   that  Stanley   does   not  think  it  fitter  to  make  this  public  .irkii'r.v- 

mention  Epicurus,  who  occupies  a  con-  ledgment  than  silently   to  withdraw  the 

eiderable  space  in  the  History  of  Philoso-  sentence.  — 1847.] 

phy.    I  have  searched  my  notes  in  vain  2  i'art  iv.  p.  339. 


CHAP.  ffl.  ITS  OBJECT  —  SKETCH  OF  IT.  67 

processes  of  reasoning,  than  the  latter.  Upon  the  whole,  how- 
ever, he  belongs  to  the  school  of  antiquity ;  and  probably  his 
wish  was  to  be  classed  with  it.  Cudworth  was  one  of  those 
whom  Hobbes  had  roused  by  the  atheistic  and  immoral  theo- 
ries of  the  Leviathan  ;  nor  did  any  antagonist  perhaps  of  that 
philosopher  bring  a  more  vigorous  understanding  to  the  com- 
bat. This  understanding  was  not  so  much  obstructed  in  its 
own  exercise  by  a  vast  erudition,  as  it  is  sometimes  concealed 
by  it  from  the  reader.  Cudworth  has  passed  more  for  a 
recorder  of  ancient  philosophy,  than  for  one  who  might  stand 
in  a  respectable  class  among  philosophers ;  and  his  work, 
though  long,  being  unfinished,  as  well  as  full  of  digression,  its 
object  has  not  been  fully  apprehended. 

7.  This  object  was  to  establish  the  liberty  of  human  actions 
against  the  fatalists.     Of  these  he  lays  it  down  that  Itg  ^^ 
there  are  three  kinds :  the  first  atheistic  ;  the  second 
admitting  a  Deity,  but  one  acting  necessarily  and  without 
moral  perfections  ;  the  third  granting  the  moral  attributes  of 
God,  but  asserting  all  human  actions  to  be  governed  by  neces- 
sary laws  which  he  has  ordained.     The  first  book  of  the  In- 
tellectual System,  which  alone  is  extant,  relates  wholly  to  the 
proofs  of  the  existence  of  a  Deity  against  the  atheistic  fatal- 
ists, his  moral  nature  being  rarely  or  never  touched  ;   so  that 
the  greater  and  more  interesting  part  of  the  work,  for  the 
sake  of  which  the  author  projected  it,   is  wholly  wanting, 
unless  we  take  for  fragments  of  it  some  writings  of  the  author 
preserved  in  the  British  Museum. 

8.  The  first  chapter  contains  an  account    of  the   ancient 
corpuscular  philosophy,  which,  till  corrupted  by  Leu-  sketch 
cippus  and   Democritus,    Cudworth   takes   to   have   oflt- 
been  not  only  theistic,  but  more  consonant  to  theistic  princi- 
ples than  any  otheV.     These   two,  however,   brought  in   a 
fatalism  grounded  on  their  own  atomic  theory.     In  the  second 
chapter,  he  states  very  fully  and  fairly  all  their  arguments,  or 
rather  all  that  have  ever  been  adduced   on  the  atheistic  side. 
In  the  third,  he  expatiates  on  the  hylozoic  atheism,  as  he  calls 
it.  of  Strato,  which  accounts  the  universe  to  be  animated  in 
all  its  parts,  but  without  a  single  controlling  intelligence ;  and 
adverts  to  another  hypothesis,  which  gives  a  vegetable  but 
not  sentient  life  to  the  world. 

9.  This  leads  Cudworth  to  his   own  famous   theory  of  a 
plastic  nature,  a  device  to  account  for  the  operations  of  physical 


68     CUDWORTH'S  ACCOUNT  OF  OLD  PHILOSOPHY.  PART  IV 

laws  without  the  continued  agency  of  the  Deity.  Of  this  plastic 
His  plastic  energy  he  speaks  in  rather  a  confused  and  indefinite 
nature.  manner,  giving  it  in  one  place  a  sort  of  sentient 
life,  or  what  he  calls  "  a  drowsy  unawakened  cogitation,"  and 
always  treating  it  as  an  entity  or  real  being.  This  language 
of  Cudworth,  and  indeed  the  whole  hypothesis  of  a  plastic 
nature,  was  unable  to  stand  the  searching  eye  of  Bayle,  who, 
in  an  article  of  his  dictionary,  pointed  out  its  unphilosophical 
and  dangerous  assumptions.  Le  Clerc  endeavored  to  support 
Cudworth  against  Bayle,  but  with  little  success.1  It  has  had, 
however,  some  partisans,  though  rather  among  physiologists 
than  metaphysicians.  Grew  adopted  it  to  explain  vegetation ; 
and  the  plastic  nature  differs  only,  as  I  conceive,  from  what 
Hunter  and  Abernethy  have  called  life  in  organized  bodies 
by  its  more  extensive  agency :  for  if  we  are  to  believe  that 
there  is  a  vital  power,  not  a  mere  name  for  the  sequence  of 
phenomena,  which  marshals  the  molecules  of  animal  and 
vegetable  substance,  we  can  see  no  reason  why  a  similar 
energy  should  not  determine  other  molecules  to  assume  geome- 
trical figures  in  crystallization.  The  error  of  paradox  con- 
sists in  assigning  a  real  unity  of  existence,  and  a  real  power 
of  causation,  to  that  which  is  unintelligent. 

10.  The  fourth  chapter  of  the  Intellectual  System,  of  vast 
His  account  lengtnj  and  occupying  half  the  entire  work,  launches 
ofoidpniio-  into  a  sea  of  old  philosophy,  in  order  to  show  the 

unity  of  a  supreme  God  to  have  been  a  general 
belief  of  antiquity.  "In  this  fourth  chapter,"  he  says,  "we 
were  necessitated  by  the  matter  itself  to  run  out  into  philolo- 
gy and  antiquity,  as  also  in  the  other  parts  of  the  book  we  do 
often  give  an  account  of  the  doctrine  of  the  ancients ;  which, 
however  some  over-severe  philosophers  may  look  upon  fasti- 
diously or  undervalue  and  depreciate,  yet  as  we  conceived  it 
often  necessary,  so  possibly  may  the  variety  thereof  not  be 
ungrateful  to  others,  and  this  mixture  of  philology  throughout 
the  whole  sweeten  and  allay  the  severity  of  philosophy  to 
them ;  the  main  thing  which  the  book  pretends  to,  in  the 
mean  time,  being  the  philosophy  of  religion.  But,  for  our 
part,  we  neither  call  philology,  nor  yet  philosophy,  our  mis- 
tress, but  serve  ourselves  of  either  as  occasion  requireth."2 

11.  The  whole  fourth  chapter  may  be  reckoned  one  great 
episode ;  and,  as  it  contains  a  store  of  useful  knowledge  on 

1  liibliotheque  Choisie,  vol.  v.  *  Preface,  p.  37. 


CHAP.  in.       HIS  ARGUMENTS  AGAINST  ATHEISM.  69 

ancient  philosophy,  it  has  not  only  been  more  read  than  the 
remaining  part  of  the  Intellectual  System,  but  has  been 
the  cause,  in  more  than  one  respect,  that  the  work  has 
been  erroneously  judged.  Thus  Cudworth  has  been  reckoned, 
by  very  respectable  authorities,  in  the  Platonic  school  of  phi- 
losophers, and  even  in  that  of  the  later  Platonists ;  for  which 
I  perceive  little  other  reason  than  that  he  has  gone  diffusely 
into  a  supposed  resemblance  between  the  Platonic  and  Chris- 
tian Trinity.  Whether  we  agree  with  him  in  this  or  no,  the 
subject  is  insulated,  and  belongs  only  to  the  history  of  theolo- 
gical opinion :  in  Cud\vorth's  own  philosophy,  he  appears  to 
be  an  eclectic  ;  not  the  vassal  of  Plato,  Plotiuus,  or  Aristotle, 
though  deeply  versed  in  them  all.1 

12.  In  the  fifth  and  last  chapter  of  the  first  and  only  book 
of  the  Intellectual  System,  Cudworth,  reverting  to 
the  various  atheistical  arguments  which  he  had  stat-  meni/* 
ed  in  the  second   chapter,  answers   them   at   great  a£»inst; 

.  ,V .  atheism. 

length,  and,  though  not  without  much  erudition, 
perhaps  more  than  was  requisite,  yet  depending  chiefly  on  his 
own  stores  of  reasoning.  And*  inasmuch  as  even  a  second 
rate  pWlosopher  ranks  higher  in  literary  precedence  than  the 
most  learned  reporter  of  other  men's  doctrine,  it  may  be 
unfortunate  for  Cudworth's  reputation  that  he  consumed  so 
much  time  in  the  preceding  chapter  upon  mere  learning,  even 
though  that  should  be  reckoned  more  useful  than  his  own 
reasonings.  These,  however,  are  frequently  valuable  ;  and,  as 
I  have  intimated  above,  he  is  partially  tinctured  by  the  philo- 
sophy of  his  own  generation,  while  he  endeavors  to  tread  in 
the  ancient  paths.  Yet  he  seems  not  aware  of  the  place 
which  Bacon,  Descartes,  and  Gassendi  were  to  hold ;  and  not 
only  names  them  sometimes  with  censure,  hardly  with  praise, 
but  most  inexcusably  throws  out  several  intimations  that  they 
had  designedly  served  the  cause  of  atheism.  The  disposition 
of  the  two  former  to  slight  the  argument  from  final  causes, 
though  it  might  justly  be  animadverted  upon,  could  not 
warrant  this  most  uucandid  and  untrue  aspersion.  But 

1  ["  Cudworth, "says  a  late  very  learneil  oeptire  representations.    He  deserves  the 

and  strong-minded  writer,  "should  be  rend  highest  praise  for  integrity  as  a  writer: 

with   the  notes  of  Mogheim ;    unless,  in-  his  learning  was  superabundant,  and  his 

deed,  one  be  so  acquainted  with  the  philo-  intellect  vigorous  enough  to  wield  it  to  his 

sophy  and  religion  of  the  ancients,  and  so  purpose.     But  he  transfers  his  own  con- 

accustomed  to  reasoning,  and  to  estimating  ceptions  to  the  heathen  philosophers  and 

the  power  and  the  ambiguity  of  language,  religionists,''  &c.  —  Norton   on  Genuine- 

as  to  be  able  to  correct  for  himself  his  de-  ness  of  Gospels,  vol.  ii.  p.  215.  — 1647.  j 


70  MORE.  PAKT  IV. 

justice  was  even-handed.  Cudworth  himself  did  not  escape 
the  slander  of  bigots  :  it  was  idly  said  by  Dryden,  that  lie  had 
put  the  arguments  against  a  Deity  so  well,  that  some  thought 
he  had  not  answered  them;  and,  if  Warbuiton  may  be  be- 
lieved, the  remaining  part  of  the  Intellectual  System  was 
never  published,  on  account  of  the  world's  malignity  in  judg- 
ing of  the  first.1  Probably  it  was  never  written. 

13.  Cudworth  is  too  credulous  and  uncritical  about  ancient 
writings,  defending  all  as  genuine,  even  where  his  own  age 
had  been  sceptical.     His  terminology  is  stiff  and  pedantic,  as 
is  the  case  with  all  our  older  metaphysicians,  abounding  in 
words  which  the  English  language  has  not  recognized.     He 
is  full  of  the   ancients,   but   rarely   quotes   the   schoolmen. 
Hobbes  is  the  adversary  with  whom  he  most  grapples :    the 
materialism,  the  resolving  all  ideas  into  sensation,  the   low 
morality  of  that  writer,  were  obnoxious  to  the  animadversion 
of  so  strenuous  an  advocate  of  a  more  elevated  philosophy 
In  some  respects,  Cudworth  has,  as   I   conceive,  much   the 
advantage ;   in  others,  he  will  generally  be  thought  by  oui 
metaphysicians  to  want  precision  and  logical  reasoning ;  and, 
upon  the  whole,  we  must  rank  him,  in  philosophical  acHimen, 
far  below   Hobbes,   Malebranche,   and   Locke,   but   also  far 
above   any  mer,e   Aristotelians   or  retailers   of  Scotus   and 
Aquinas.2 

14.  Henry  More,  though  by  no  means  less  eminent  than 

Cudworth  in  his  own  age,  ought  not  to  be  placed  on 
the  same  level.  More  fell  not  only  into  the  mystical 
notions  of  the  later  Platonists,  but  even  of  the  Cabalistic 
writers.  His  metaphysical  philosophy  was  borrowed  in  great 
measure  from  them ;  and  though  he  was  in  correspondence 
with  Descartes,  and  enchanted  with  the  new  views  that 
opened  upon  him,  yet  we  find  that  he  was  reckoned  much  less 
of  a  Cartesian  afterwards,  and  even  wrote  against  parts  of 
the  theory.3  The  most  peculiar  tenet  of  More  was  the  exten- 
sion of  spirit :  acknowledging  and  even  striving  for  the  soul's 
immateriality,  he  still  could  not  conceive  it  to  be  unextended. 

1  Warburton's  preface  to  Divine  Lega-  about  the  omnipresence  of  the  Deity: 

tion,  vol.  ii.  Descartes  thought  that  he  was  "  partout  i 

J  [The  inferiority  of  Cudworth  to  Hobbes  raison  de  sa  puissance,  et  qu'i  raison  de 

is  not  at  present  very  manifest  to  me.  —  son  essence  il  n'a  absolument  aucune  rela- 

1847.]  tion  au  lieu."  More,  who  may  be  called  a 

8  Baillet,  Vie  de  Descartes,  liv.  vii.  It  lover  of  extension,  maintained  a  strictly 

must  be  observed  that  More  never  wholly  local  presence.  —  iKuvres  de  Descartofl, 

agr««l  with  Descartes.  Thus  they  differed  vol.  x.  p.  239. 


C?HAP.  m.  GASSESDI— HIS  LOGIC.  71 

Yet  it  seems  evident,  that  if  we  give  extension  as  well  as 
figure,  which  is  implied  in  finite  extension,  to  the  single  self- 
conscious  monad,  qualities  as  heterogeneous  to  thinking  as 
material  impenetrability  itself,  we  shall  find  it  in  vain  to  deny 
the  possibility  at  least  of  the  latter.  Some,  indeed,  might 
question  whether  what  we  call  matter  is  any  real  being  at  all, 
except  as  extension  under  peculiar  conditions.  But  this  con- 
jecture need  not  here  be  pressed. 

15.  Gassendi  himself,  by  the  extensiveness  of  his  erudition, 
may  be  said  to  have  united  the  two  schools  of  specu- 
lative  philosophy,  the  historical  and  the  experimental ; 
though  the  character  of  his  mind  determined  him  far  more 
towards  the  latter.  He  belongs,  in  point  of  tune,  rather  to  the 
earlier  period  of  the  century ;  but,  his  Syntagma  Philosophi- 
cum  having  been  published  in  1658,  we  have  deferred  the 
review  of  it  for  this  volume.  This  posthumous  work,  in  two 
volumes  folio,  and  nearly  1,600  pages  closely  printed  in 
double  columns,  is  divided  into  three  parts,  —  the  Logic,  the 
Physics,  and  the  Ethics ;  the  second  occupying  more  than 
five-sixths  of  the  whole.  The  Logic  is  introduced  by  two 
proemial  books :  one  containing  a  history  of  the  science  from 
Zeno  of  Elea,  the  parent  of  systematic  logic,  to  Bacon  Hjg  ^  . 
and  Descartes  ;'  the  other,  still  more  valuable,  on  the 
criteria  of  truth ;  shortly  criticising  also,  in  a  chapter  of  this 
book,  the  several  schemes  of  logic  which  he  had  merely  de- 
scribed in  the  former.  After  stating  very  prolixly,  as  is  usual 
with  him,  the  arguments  of  the  sceptics  against  the  evidence 
of  the  senses,  and  those  of  the  dogmatics,  as  he  calls  them, 
who  refer  the  sole  criterion  of  truth  to  the  understanding,  he 
propounds  a  sort  of  middle  course.  It  is  necessary,  he  ob- 
serves, before  we  can  infer  truth,  that  there  should  be  some 
sensible  sign,  alaOijTd}>  cni/idov ;  for,  since  all  the  knowledge  we 
possess  is  derived  from  the  sense,  the  mind  must  first  have 
some  sensible  image,  by  which  it  may  be  led  to  a  knowledge 
of  what  is  latent  and  not  perceived  by  sense.  Hence  we 

1  "Pneterenndumporrononestobeam,  autem  in  eo  est,  ut  bene  imagineinur,  qua- 

qua  eft.  celebritatem  Organum,  sive  logica  tenus  vult  esse  imprimis  exuenda  omnia 

Franci«:i  Baconis  Verulamii."     He  extols  prsejudicia.  ac  novas  delude  notiones  idras- 

Bacon  highly,  but  gives  an  analysis  of  the  ve  ex  novis  debiteque  factis  experimentU 

Novum  Onrauum  without  much  criticism.  induc«ndas.     Logics  Cartesii  recte  qujdem 

De  Logica?  Oriirinp.  c.  x.  Vemlamii  imitationeabeoexorditur.  quod 

'•Logica  Verulamii, ''Gassendi  says  in  an-  ad  bene  imaginandum  prava  praejudicii 

other  place.  "  tota  ac  per  se  ad  physicam,  eruenda,  recta  veroinduendavult,"  &c. — 

atque  adeo  ad  vt-ritatem  notitiamve  remm  p.  90. 
gennananibabendaniconturidit.  fnecipue 


72  GASSENDI'S  THEORY  OF  IDEAS.  PAKT  IV. 

may  distinguish  in  ourselves  a  double  criterion :  one  by  which 
we  perceive  the  sign,  namely,  the  senses ;  another  by  which  we 
understand  through  reasoning  the  latent  thing,  namely,  the 
intellect  or  rational  faculty.1  This  he  illustrates  by  the  pores 
of  the  skin,  which  we  do  not  perceive,  but  infer  their  exist- 
ence by  observing  the  permeation  of  moisture. 

16.  In  the   first   part   of  the  treatise  itself  on  Logic,  to 
ma  theory  which   these   two  books  are  introductory,  Gassendi 
of  ideas,      ]avg  (jown  again  his  favorite  principle,  that  every 
idea  in  the  mind  is  ultimately  derived  from  the  senses.     But, 
while  what  the  senses  transmit  are  only  singular  ideas,  the 
mind  has  the  faculty  of  making  general  ideas  out  of  a  number 
of  these  singular  ones  when  they  resemble  each  other.2     In 
this  part  of  his  Logic,  he  expresses  himself  clearly  and  un- 
equivocally a  conceptualist. 

17.  The  Physics  were  expanded  with  a  prodigality  of  learn- 
ing upon   every  province   of  nature.     Gassendi   is   full  of 
quotation;  and  his  systematic  method  manifests  the  compre- 
hensiveness of  his   researches.     In   the   third   book  of  the 
second  part  of  the  third  section  of  the  Physics,  he  treats  of 
the  immateriality,  and,  in  the  fourteenth,  of  the  immortality, 
of  the  soul,  and  maintains  the  affirmative  of  both  pro|K>sitions. 
This  may  not  be  what  those  who  judge  of  Gassendi  merely 
from  his  objections  to  the  Meditations  of  Descartes  have  sup- 
posed.     But   a  clearer  insight  into  his  metaphysical  theory 
will  be  obtained  from  the  ninth  book   of  the  same  part  of 
the  Physics,  entitled  De  Intellectu,  on  the  Human   Under- 
standing. 

18.  In  this  book,  after  much  display  of  erudition  on  the 
And  of  the   tenets  of  philosophers,  he  determines  the  soul  to  be 
nature  of     an  incorporeal  substance,  created  by  God,  and  infused 

into  the  body,  so  that  it  resides  in  it  as  an  informing 
and  not  merely  a  present  nature,  forma  informans,  et  won 
simpliciter  assistens.3  He  next  distinguishes  intellection  or 
understanding  from  imagination  or  perception  ;  which  is  wor- 
thy of  particular  notice,  because,  in  his  controversy  with  Des- 
cartes, he  had  thrown  out  doubts  as  to  any  distinction  between 

i  P.  81.  If  this  passage  be  well  attended  guished  the  aladrjrbv  crjruttov,  the  sensi- 

to,  it  will  show  how  the  Philosophy  of  ble  a^oci^d  signi  from  the  unimaginable 

Gassendi  has  been  misunderstood  by  those  objects  of  pure  intellect,  as  we  shall  soon 

who  confound  it  with  the  merely  sensual  ^ 

school  of   metaphysicians.     No  one  has  2  p  93 

more  clearly,  or  more  at  length,  distin-  3  p|  44^ 


CHAP.  ID.  HIS  THEORF  OF  THE  SOUL.  73 

them.  "We  have  in  ourselves  a  kind  of  faculty  which  enables 
HS,  by  means  of  reasoning,  to  understand  that  which  by  no 
endeavors  we  can  imagine  or  represent  to  the  mind.1  Of 
this,  the  size  of  the  sun,  or  innumerable  other  examples,  might 
be  given ;  the  mind  having  no  idea  suggested  by  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  sun's  magnitude,  but  knowing  it  by  a  peculiar 
operation  of  reason.  And  hence  we  infer  that  the  intellectual 
soul  is  immaterial,  because  it  understands  that  which  no  mate- 
rial image  presents  to  it ;  as  we  infer  also  that  the  imaginative 
faculty  is  material,  because  it  employs  the  images  supplied  by 
sense.  It  is  true,  that  the  intellect  makes  use  of  these  sensi- 
ble images  as  steps  towards  its  reasoning  upon  things  which 
cannot  be  imagined ;  but  the  proof  of  its  immateriality  is 
given  by  this,  that  it  passes  beyond  all  material  images,  and 
attains  a  true  knowledge  of  that  whereof  it  has  no  image. 

19.  Buhle  observes,  that,  in  what  Gassendi  has  said  on  the 
power  of  the  mind  to  understand  what  it  cannot  conceive, 
there  is  a  forgetfulness  of  his  principle,  that  nothing  is  in  the 
understanding  which  has  not  been  in  the  sense.     But,  unless 
we  impute  repeated  contradictions  to  this  philosopher,  he  must 
have  meant  that  axiom  in  a  less  extended  sense  than  it  has 
been  taken  by  some  who  have  since  employed  it.     By  that 
which  is  "  in  the  understanding,"  he  could  only  intend  definite 
images  derived  from  sense,  which  must  be  present  before  the 
mind  can  exercise  any  faculty,  or  proceed  to  reason  up  to 
unimaginable  things.      The  fallacy  of  the  sensualist  school, 
English  and  French,  has  been  to  conclude  that  we  can  have 
no  knowledge  of  that  which  is  not  "  in  the  understanding ; " 
an  inference  true  in  the  popular  sense  of  words,  but  false  in 
the  metaphysical. 

20.  There  is,  moreover,  Gassendi  proceeds,  a  class  of  reflex 

\ 

1  "Itaqueest  in  nobis  intellectus  species,  vi  propria,  sen,  ratiocinando,  earn  esee  in 

qua  ratiocinandoeoproTeliiniur,  ut  aliquid  sole  magnitudinem  comprehendit,  ac  pan 

intelligamus,  quod  imapnari.  vel  cujus  modo  eastera.    Nempe  ex  hoc  efficitur.  ut 

habere  obrersantem  imaginem.  quantum-  rem  sine  specie  material!  inteliigens,  ease 

cunque  animi   vires  contenderimus,  non  immaterialis  debeat :    sicuti  phantasia  «-x 

possimus."  .  .  .  After  instancing  the  size  eo    materialis    arguitur.   quod    matert-Ui 

of  the  sun,  "  posrnnt  conrimilia  sexcenta  specie  utatur.     Ac  utitur  quidem  etiain 

afferri.  .  .  .  Verumqnidemistudsufficiat.  intelleetus  speciebus  phantasia  perceptis, 

ut  constet  quidpiam  DOS  intelligere  quod  tanquam  gradibus,  ut  ratiocinando  asse- 

imaginari   non   liceat,  et  intellectual  ita  quatur  ea,  quae  deinceps  sine   speciebua 

ease  distinction  a  phantasia.  ut  cum  phan-  phantasmatisve  intelligit.  sed  hoc  ipsum 

tafia  habeat  materials  species,  sub  quibuB  eft  quod  Ulius  immaterialitatem  arguit, 

res  imaginatnr.  non  habeat  tamen  intel-  quod  ultra  omnem  speciem  materialetn  M 

lectus,  sub  quibus  res  intelligat :   neque  provehat,  quidpiamque  cujus  nullam  ha* 

enim  ullam.  v.  g.  habet  illius  magnitu-  beat  phantasma  revera  agnoscat." 
dinis  quain  in  sole  intelligit;  sed  tautum  ^ 


74  INTELLECT  AND  IMAGINATION.  PART  IV 

operations,  whereby  the  mind  understands  itself  and  its  own 
faculties,  and  is  conscious  that  it  is  exercising  such 
acts.  And  this  faculty  is  superior  to  any  that  a 
id<iT't'f  material  substance  possesses;  for  no  body  can  act 
reflexly  on  itself,  but  must  move  from  one  place  to 
another.1  Our  observation,  therefore,  of  our  own  imaginings, 
must  be  by  a  power  superior  to  imagination  itself;  for  ima- 
gination is  employed  on  the  image,  not  on  the  perception  of 
the  image,  since  there  is  no  image  of  the  act  of  perception. 

21.  The  intellect  also  not  only  forms  universal  ideas,  but 
perceives  the  nature  of  universality.     And  this  seems  pecu- 
liar to  mankind ;  for  brutes  do  not  show  any  thing  more  than 
a  power  of  association  by  resemblance.     In  our  own  concep- 
tion of  an  universal,  it  may  be  urged,  there  is  always  some 
admixture  of  singularity,  as  of  a  particular  form,  magnitude, 
or   color ;    yet  we   are   able,  Gassendi  thinks,  to   strip   the 
image  successively  of  all  these  particular  adjuncts.2    He  seems 
therefore,  as  has  been  remarked  above,  to  have  held  the  con- 
ceptualist  theory  in  the  strictest  manner,  admitting  the  reality 
of  universal  ideas  even  as  images  present  to  the  mind. 

22.  Intellection  being  the  proper  operation  of  the  soul,  it 

is  needless  to  inquire  whether  it  does  this  by  its  own 
icctfrom"  nature,  or  by  a  peculiar  faculty  called  understanding; 
imagine  nor  ghouid  TRQ  trouble  ourselves  about  the  Aristo- 
telian distinction  of  the  active  and  passive  intellect.3 
We  have  only  to  distinguish  this  intellection  from  mere  con- 
ception derived  from  the  phantasy,  which  is  necessarily  as- 
sociated with  it.  We  cannot  conceive  God  in  this  life,  except 
under  some  image  thus  supplied ;  and  it  is  the  same  with  all 
other  incorporeal  things.  Nor  do  we  comprehend  infinite 
quantities,  but  have  a  sort  of  confused  image  of  indefinite 
extension.  This  is  surely  a  right  account  of  the  matter ;  and, 
if  Stewart  had  paid  any  attention  to  these  and  several  other 
passages,  he  could  not  have  so  much  misconceived  the  phi- 
losophy of  Gassendi. 

1  "  Alterum  est  genus  reflexarum  actio-  *  "  Et  ne  instes  in  nobis  quoque,  don 
mini,  quibus  intelkrtus  seipsum,  suas-  universale  concipimus,  admisceri  sempei 
que  functiones  intelligit.  ac  speciatim  se  aliquid  singularities,  ut  certse  magnitu- 
intclligereanunadvertit.  Videlicet  hoc  mu-  dinis,  certje  figune,  certS  coloris,  &e.,  ex 
nus  est  omni  facilitate  corporea  guperius ;  perimur  tamen,  nisi  [sic]  siinul,  saltern 
quoniam  quicquid  corporeum  est,  ita  certo  successive  ."poliari  i  iiobis  naturam  quail- 
loco,  sive  permanenter,  give  succedenter  bet  special!  in.-iguituiline,  qualibct  spcriall 
alligiitum  est,  ut  non  versus  se,  sed  soluin  figurii,  quolibet  speciali  colore  ;  utque  ita 
vt>r»u»  aliud  divensuiu  a  se  procedere  pos-  dc  ra-trris." 
•it.'W  s  1'.  446. 


CHAP,  in        GASSEXDI'S  THEORY   OF  THE  SOUL.  75 

23.  The  mind,  as  long  as  it  dwells  in  the  body,  seems  to 
have  no  intelligible  species,  except  phantasms  derived  from 
sense.     These  he  takes  for  impressions  on  the  brain,  driven 
to  and  fro  by  the  animal  spirits  till  they  reach  the  phantasia, 
or  imaginative  faculty,  and  cause  it  to  imagine  sensible  things. 
The  soul,   in   Gassendi's   theory,  consists   of  an   incorporeal 
part  or  intellect,  and  of  a  corporeal  part,  the   phantasy  or 
sensitive  soul,  which  he  conceives  to  be  diffused  throughout 
the  body.     The  intellectual  soul   instantly  perceives,   by  its 
union  with   the   phantasy,   the   images  impressed   upon  the 
latter,  not  by  impulse  of  these  sensible  and  material  species, 
but  by  intuition  of  their  images  in  the  phantasy.1     Thus,  if  I 
rightly  apprehend  his  meaning,  we  are  to  distinguish, — first, 
the  species  in  the  brain,  derived  from   immediate   sense   or 
reminiscence ;  secondly,  the  image  of  these  conceived  by  the 
phantasy ;  thirdly,  the  act  of  perception  in  the  mind  itself, 
by  which  it  knows   the   phantasy  to   have  imagined  these 
species,  and   knows  also  the  species  themselves  to  have,  or 
to  have  had,  their  external  archetypes.     This  distinction  of 
the  animus,  or  reasonable,  from  the  anima,  or  sensitive  soul, 
he  took,  as  he  did  a  great  part  of  his  philosophy,  from  Epi- 
curus. 

24.  The  phantasy  and  intellect  proceed  together,  so  that 
they  might  appear  at  first  to  be  the  same  faculty.     Not  only, 
however,   are   they   different   in   their  operation  even  as  to 
objects  which  fall  under  the  senses,  and  are  represented  to  the 
mind;  but  the  intellect  has  certain  operations  peculiar  to  itself. 
Such  is  the  apprehension  of  things  which  cannot  be  perceived 
by  sense,  as  the  Deity,  whom,  though  we  can  only  imagine  as 
corporeal,  we  apprehend  or  understand  to  be  otherwise.2     He 
repeats  a  good  deal  of  what  he  had  before  said  on  the  dis- 
tinctive province  of  the  understanding,  by  which  we  reason 
on  things  incapable  of  being  imagined ;  drawing  several  in- 
stances  from   the   geometry   of    infinites,   as  in  asymptotes, 
wherein,  he  says,  something  is  always  inferred  by  reasoning, 

1  "  Eodem  momento  intellectns  ob  in-  aliquid  ultra  id,   quod  specie  imaginere 

timam   sui   praesentiam   cohaerentiamque  repraesentatur,  neque  non  simul  comitan- 

euin  phantasia  remeandemeontuetur."—  tern  talem  speciem  rel  imaginationem  ha- 

P-  450.  beat :  sed  quod  apprehendat,  intelligatve 

1  "  Hoc  est  antem  praeter  phantasue  can-  aliquid,  ad  quod  apprehendendum  sive  pe_r 

cellos,  inteUectiisque  ipsius  proprium,  po-  cipiendum  assurgere  phantasia  non  possit, 

testque  aUeo  tails  apprehensio  non  jam  ut  qua?  omnino  terminetur  ad  corporun 

imaginatio,  sed  intelligentia  vel  intellectio  speciem,  seu  imaginem,  ex  qua  illius  ope- 

dk-i.    Xon  quod  intellectus  non  accipiat  ratio  imaginatio  appellatur." — Ibid, 
insam  ab  ipsa  phantasia  ratiociaaudi  e&£e 


76  GASSENDI  MISUNDERSTOOD  BY  STEWART.     PAKT  IV, 

which  we  presume  to  be  true,  and  yet  cannot  reach  by  any 

effort  of  the  imagination.1 

25.  I  have  given  a  few  extracts  from  Gassendi  in  order  to 
confirm  what  has  been  said ;  his  writings  being  little 
read  in  England,  and  his  philosophy  not  having 

understood  been  always  represented  in  the  same  manner.     De- 

bv  Stewart.  -I-I-I-T  •  ,1  ••, 

gerando  has  claimed,  on  two  occasions,  the  priority 
for  Gassendi  in  that  theory  of  the  generation  of  ideas  wliich 
has  usually  been  ascribed  to  Locke.2  But  Stewart  protests 
against  this  alleged  similarity  in  the  tenets  of  the  French  and 
English  philosophers.  "  The  remark,"  he  says,  "is  certain- 
ly just,  if  restrained  to  Locke's  doctrine  as  interpreted  by  the 
greater  part  of  philosophers  on  the  Continent ;  but  it  is  very 
wide  of  the  truth,  if  applied  to  it  as  now  explained  and  modi- 
fied by  the  most  intelligent  of  his  disciples  in  this  country. 
The  main  scope,  indeed,  of  Gassendi's  argument  against  Des- 
cartes is  to  materialize  that  class  of  our  ideas  which  the 
Lockists  as  well  as  the  Cartesians  consider  as  the  exclusive 
objects  of  the  power  of  reflection,  and  to  show  that  these  ideas 
are  all  ultimately  resolvable  into  images  or  conceptions  bor- 
rowed from  things  external.  It  is  not,  therefore,  what  is 
sound  and  valuable  in  this  part  of  Locke's  system,  but  the 
errors  grafted  on  it  in  the  comments  of  some  of  his  followers, 
that  can  justly  be  said  to  have  been  borrowed  from  Gassendi. 
Nor  has  Gassendi  the  merit  of  originality  even  in  these 
errors ;  for  scarcely  a  remark  on  the  subject  occurs  in  his 

i  "  In  quibus  semper  aliquld  argumen-  telUgence  qul  n'esfc  pas  imagination,  & 

tando  colligitur,  quod  et  verum  esse  Intel-  savoir  celle  par  laquelle  nous  connoissons 

ligimus  et  iinaginando  non  assequimur  par  raisonnement  qu'il  y  a  quelque  chose 

tamen."  outre  ce  qui  tombe  sous  1 'imagination."  — 

[Bernier  well  and  clearly  expressed  the  Abrege  du  Systeme  de  Gassendi,  vol.  iii. 

important  distinction  between  aladrjTu  P-  14.  Gassendi  plainly  confines  idea  to 

and  VOVfteva,  which  separates  the  two  P^^riniagnation,  and  so  fer  differs 

schools  of  philosophy ;  and  thus  place*  ,  ^^  comp^ree  des  Sy8teme8  1804, 

Gassendi  far  apart  from  Hobbes  The  pas-  voj  ,_  m  and  „,  Uuivcrsell>  „£ 

sage,  however,  which  I  shall  give  InFwnoh,  u  Ga.^^."'  Yet  in  neither  of  these  does 


,.     have   not   seen.    As   to  Locke g  positive 


avons  par  le  raisonnement  et  que  nous  ti-  obli  tiona  to  his  predece8sor  :  ghouid  be 
rons  par  consequence.  D  ou  vient  que  £  incljned  ^  doubt  Vhether  he. 
ceux  qui  se  persuadent  qu'il  n'y  a  aucune  ^ho  ^  nQ  t  lover  of  ^  book 


CHAI    IK.  LOCKE  —  BEBNIER.  77 

•works,  but  what  is  copied  from  the  accounts  transmitted  to  us 
of  the  Epicurean  metaphysics."1 

26.  It  will  probably  appear  to  those  who  consider  what  I 
have  quoted  from  Gasseiidi,  that  in  his  latest  writings  he  did 
not  differ  so  much  from  Locke,  and  lead  the  way  so  much  to 
the  school  of  the  French  metaphysicians  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  as  Stewart  has  supposed.     The  resemblance  to  the 
Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding  in  several  points,  espe- 
cially in  the  important  distinction  of  what  Locke  has  called 
ideas  of  reflection  from  those  of  sense,  is  too  evident  to  be 
denied.     I  am  at  the  same  time  unable  to  account  in  a  satis- 
factory manner  for  the  apparent  discrepancy  between  the  lan- 
guage of  Gassendi  in  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum,  and  that 
which  we  find  in  his  objections  to  the  Meditations  of  Des- 
cartes.    No  great  interval  of  time  had  intervened  between 
the  two  works :   for  his  correspondence  with  Descartes  bears 
date  in  1641 ;  and  it  appears  by  that  with  Louis,  Count  of 
Angouleme,  in  the  succeeding  year,  that  he  was  already  em- 
ployed on  the  first  part  of  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum.2 
Whether  he  urged  some  of  his'  objections  against  the  Carte- 
sian metaphysics  with  a  regard  to  victory  rather  than  truth, 
or,  as  would  be  the  more  candid  and  perhaps  more  reasonable 
hypothesis,  he  was  induced  by  the  acuteness  of  his  great  an- 
tagonist to  review  and  reform  his  own  opinions,  I  must  leave 
to  the  philosophical  reader.3 

27.  Stewart  had  evidently  little  or  no  knowledge  of  the 
Syntagma   Philosophicum.      But  he   had   seen   an  Bernier,g 
Abridgment  of  the  Philosophy  of  Gassendi  by  Ber-  epitome  of 
nier,  published  at  Lyons  in  1678,  and,  finding  in  Gassendi 
this  the  doctrine  of  Locke  on  ideas  of  reflection,  conceived 
that  it  did  not  faithfully  represent  its  own  original.     But  this 
was  hardly  a  very  plausible  conjecture  ;  Bernier  being  a  man 
of  considerable  ability,  an  intimate  friend  of  Gassendi,  and 
his  epitome  being  so  far  from  concise  that  it  extends  to  eight 

1  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclo-  a  letter  to  Rivet,  that  he  should  not  hay* 
paedia.  examined  so  closely  the  metaphysics  of 

2  Gassendi  Opera,  vol.  vi.  p.  130.    These  Descartes,  if  he  had  been  treated  by  him 
letters  are  interesting  to  those  who  would  with  as  much  politeness  as  he  had  ex- 
study  the  philosophy  of  Gassendi.  pected.    Vie  de  Descartes,  liv.  vi.     The 

8  Baillet,  in  his  Life  of  Descartes,  would  retortof  Descartes, "  0  Caro!  "  (see vol.  iii. 

lead  us  to  think  that  Gassendi  was  too  of  this  work,  p.   86)  offended  Gassendi, 

much  influenced  by  personal  motives  in  and  caused  a  coldness ;  which,  according 

writing  against  Descartes,  who  had  men-  to  Baillet,  Sorbiere  aggravated,  acting  a 

tinned  the  phenomena  of  parhelia,  without  treacherous  part  in  exasperating  the  mind 

alluding  to  a  dissertation  of  Gassendi  on  of  Gassendi. 
the  subject.    The  latter,  it  seems,  owns  in 


78  PROCESS  OF  CARTESIAN  PHILOSOPHY.      PART  IV. 

small  volumes.  Having  not  indeed  collated  the  two  books, 
but  read  them  within  a  short  interval  of  time,  I  can  say  that 
Bernier  has  given  a  faithful  account  of  the  philosophy  of  Gas- 
sendi,  as  it  is  contained  in  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum,  —  for 
he  takes  notice  of  no  other  work ;  nor  has  he  here  added  any 
thing  of  his  own.  But  in  1682  he  published  another  little 
book,  entitled  Doutes  de  M.  Bernier  sur  quelques  uns  des 
principaux  Chapitres  de  son  Abrege  de  la  Philosophic  de 
Gassendi.  One  of  these  doubts  relates  to  the  existence  ot 
space ;  and  in  another  place  he  denies  the  reality  of  eternity 
or  abstract  duration.  Bernier  observes,  as  Descartes  had 
done,  that  it  is  vain  and  even  dangerous  to  attempt  a  defini- 
tion of  evident  things,  such  as  motion,  because  we  are  apt  to 
mistake  a  definition  of  the  word  for  one  of  the  thing ;  and 
philosophers  seem  to  conceive  that  motion  is  a  real  being, 
when  they  talk  of  a  billiard-ball  communicating  or  losing  it.1 

28.  The  Cartesian  philosophy,  which  its  adversaries  had 
Process  of  expected  to  expire  with  its  founder,  spread  more  and 
Cartesian  more  after  his  death ;.  nor  had  it  ever  depended  on 
)phy'  any  personal  favor  or  popularity  of  Descartes,  since 
he  did  not  possess  such  except  with  a  few  friends.  The 
churches  and  schools  of  Holland  were  full  of  Cartesians. 
The  old  scholastic  philosophy  became  ridiculous :  its  distinc- 
tions, its  maxims,  were  laughed  at,  as  its  adherents  complain  ; 
and  probably  a  more  fatal  blow  was  given  to  the  Aristotelian 
system  by  Descartes  than  even  by  Bacon.  The  Cartesian  theo- 
ries were  obnoxious  to  the  rigid  class  of  theologians ;  but  two 
parties  of  considerable  importance  in  Holland,  the  Armiuians 
and  the  Coccejans,  generally  espoused  the  new  philosophy. 
Many  speculations  in  theology  were  immediately  connected 
with  it,  and  it  acted  on  the  free  and  scrutinizing  spirit 
which  began  to  sap  the  bulwarks  of  established  orthodoxy. 
The  Cartesians  were  denounced  in  ecclesiastical  synods,  and 
were  hardly  admitted  to  any  office  in  the  church.  They  were 
condemned  by  several  universities,  and  especially  by  that  of 
Leyden  in  1678,2  for  the  position  that  the  truth  of  Scripture 

1  Even  Gassendi  has  defined  duration  ground  that  it  was  an  innovation  on  tii-s 
u  an  incorporeal  flowing  extension,"  which  Aristotelian  philosophy  so  long  ra-dvcil : 
!•  a  good  instance  of  the  success  that  can  and   ordained,  —  "  ut    in  Ac:t<U>mi:i   iuni 
attend  such  definitions  of  simple  ideas.  Aristotelic®  philosophise  limits,  qu.-e  liio 

[Though  this  is  not  a  proper  definition  hactenus  recepta  fuit.  nos  coutineamu?, 

of  duration,  it  is,   perhaps,  not  ill  ex-  utque  in  posU-rum  nee   philosophise,  ne- 

pressed  as  an  analogy.  — 1847.]  que  nominis  Cartesian!  in  disputationibus. 

2  Leyden    had   condemned    the   whole  lectiouibus  aut  public-is  alii.-i  exercitiis,  neo 
Cartesian  system  as  early  as  1651,  ou  the  pro  nee  contra  otentio  fiat."     Utrecht  ia 


CHAP.  IIL  LA  FOEGE.  79 

must  be  proved  by  reason.    Nor  were  they  less  exposed  to 
persecution  in  France.1 

29.  The  Cartesian  philosophy,  in  one  sense,  carried  in  itself 
the  seeds  of  its  own  decline  ;  it  was  the  Scylla  of  many  dogs ; 
it  taught  men  to  think  for  themselves,  and  to  think  often  bet- 
ter than  Descartes  had  done.     A  new  eclectic  philosophy,  or 
rather  the  genuine  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  made  Cartesianism 
cease  as  a  sect,  though  it  left  much  that  had  been  introduced 
by  it.     We  owe  thanks  to  these  Cartesians  of  the  seventeenth 
century  for  their  strenuous  assertion  of  reason  against  pre- 
scriptive authority :  the  latter  part  of  this  age  was  signalized 
by  the  overthrow  of  a  despotism  which  had  fought  every  inch 
in  its  retreat ;  and  it  was  manifestly  after  a  struggle,  on  the 
Continent,  with  this  new  philosophy,  that  it  was  ultimately 
vanquished.2 

30.  The  Cartesian  writers  of  France,  the  Low  Countries, 
and  Germany,  were  numerous  and  respectable.     La  La  forge; 
Forge  of  Saumur  first  developed  the  theory  of  oc-  **&*• 
casional   causes   to   explain    the    union   of    soul    and   body, 
wherein   he  was  followed  by   Geulinx,  Regis,  Wittich,  and 
Malebranche.3     But  this  and  other  innovations  displeased  the 
stricter  Cartesians,  who  did  not  find  them  in  their  master. 
Clauberg  in  Germany,  Clerselier  in  France,  Le  Grand  in  the 
Low  Countries,  should  be  mentioned  among  the  leaders  of 
the  school.     But  no  one  has  left  so  comprehensive  a  statement 
and  defence  of   Cartesianism  as  Jean  Silvain   Regis,  whose 

1644,  had  gone  farther ;  and  her  decree  Is  nullis  opinionibus  ad  aliarum  celehrium 

couched  in  terms  which  might  have  been  Academiarum  exemplum  hie  usitata,  ita 

used  by  any  one  who  wished  to  ridicule  ut  veteris  et  receptse  philosophiao  funda 

university  prejudice  by  a  forgery,     "lie-  menta    non    labefactent." — Tepel.  Hist, 

jicere  novam  istam  philosophiam,  primo  Philos.  Cartesian*,  p.  75. 
quia  veteri  philosophise,  quam  Academiae        1  An  account  of  the  manner  in  which 

toto  orbi  terrarum  hactenws  optimo  con-  the  Cartesians  were  harassed  through  the 

silio  docuere,  adversatur,  ejusque  funda-  Jesuits  is  given  by  M.  Cousin  in  the  Jour 

menta  subvertit ;  deinde  quia  juventutem  nal  des  Savan8,  March,  1838. 
a  veteri  et  sana  philosophia  avertit,  impe-        2  i'or  the  fate  of  the  Cartesian  philoso- 

ditque  quo  minus  ad  culmen  eruditionis  phy  in  the  life  of  its  founder,  see  the  life 

proveliatur ;  eo   quod  istius  praesumptae  of  Descartes  by  Baillet,  2  vols.  in  quarto, 

philosophise    adminiculo    tecknologemata  which   he    afterwards  abridged  in  12mo. 

in  auctorum   lihris  professorumiiue  lectio-  After  the  death  of  Descartes,  it  may  be 

libus  et  dispiitationibirs  usitata,  percipere  best  traced  by  means  of  Brucker.   Buhle,as 

if  quit ;   postremo  quod  ex  eadein  varise  usual,  is  a  mere  copyist  of  his  predecessor, 

alsae  et  absurdas  opiuiones  partim  consig-  He  has,  however,  given  a  fuller  account 

nantur,  partim  ab  improvida  jnventute  de-  of  Kegis.     A  contemporary  History  of  Car- 

duci  possint  pugnantes  cum  creteris  disci-  tesian  Philosophy  by  Tepel  contains  rather 

plinis  et  facultatibus,  atque  imprimis  cum  a  neatly  written  summary  of  the  oontro- 

orthodoxa  theologia ;  censere  igitur  et  sta-  versies  it  excited,  both  in  the  lifetime  of 

tuereomnes  philosophiam  in  hac  Academia  Descartes  and  for  a  few  years  afterwards, 
docentes  imposterum  a  tali  institute  et        3  Tennemann( Manuel  de  la  Philosopliiu, 

Incepto  abstinere  debere,  contentos  morlica  ii.  99)  ascribes  this  theory  to  Ueuliux.     Se« 

libertatt  dissentiendi  in  siugularibus  nou-  also  Brucker,  v.  704. 


80 


REGIS. 


PART  IV. 


Systeme  de  la  Philosophic,  in  three  quarto  volumes,  appeared 
at  Paris  in  1690.  It  is  divided  into  four  parts,  on  Logic, 
Metaphysics,  Physics,  and  Ethics.  In  the  three  latter,  Regis 
claims  nothing  as  his  own,  except  some  explanations :  "  All 
that  I  have  said  being  due  to  H.  Descartes,  whose  method 
and  principles  I  have  followed,  even  in  explanations  that  are 
different  from  his  own."  And  in  his  Logic  he  professes  to 
have  gone  little  beyond  the  author  of  the  Art  de  Peiiser.1 
Notwithstanding  this  rare  modesty,  Regis  is  not  a  writer  un- 
worthy of  being  consulted  by  the  studious  of  philosophy,  nor 
deficient  in  clearer  and  fuller  statements  than  will  always  be 
found  in  Descartes.  It  might  even  be  said,  that  he  has  many 
things  which  would  be  sought  in  vain  through  his  master's 
writings,  though  I  am  unable  to  prove  that  they  might  not  be 
traced  in  those  of  the  intermediate  Cartesians.  Though  our 
limits  will  not  permit  any  further  account  of  Regis,  I  will 
give  a  few  passages  in  a  note.2 

31.  Huet,  Bishop  of  Avranches,  a  man  of  more  general 

Huet's  cen-  erudition  than  philosophical  acuteness,  yet  not  quite 

euro  of  Car-  without  this,  arraigned  the  whole  theory  in  his  Cen- 

sura  Philosophise    Cartesianag.      He   had   been   for 

many  years,  as  he  tells  us,  a  favorer  of  Cartesianism ;  but  his 


1  It  is  remarkable  that  Regis  says  no- 
thing about  figures  and  modes  of  syllo- 
gism :  "  Nous  ne  dirons  rien  des  figures  ni 
des  gyllogismes  en  general ;  car  bien  que 
tout  cela  jniisse  servir  de  quelque  chose 
pour  la  speculation  de  la  logique,  11  n'est 
au  moms  d'aucun  usage  pour  la  pratique, 
laquelle  est  1'unique  but  que  nous  nous 
sommes  proposes  dans  ce  traite." —  p.  37. 

2  Regis,  in  imitation  of  his  master,  and 
perhaps  with  more  clearness,  observes  that 
our  knowledge  of  our  own  existence  is  not 
derived  from  reasoning,  "  mais  par  une  con- 
noissance  simple  et  intericure,  qui  precede 
toutes  les  connolssances  acquLses,  et  que 
j'appelle  conscience.    En  effet,   quand  je 
dis  quejeconnoisou  quejecrolsconnoitre, 
ce/e  presuppose  lui-meme  mon  existence, 
etant  impossible  que  je  connoisse,  ou  seule- 
ment  que  je  croie  connoltre,  et  que  je  ne 
sois  pas  quelque  chose  d'existant."  —  p.  68. 
The  Cartesian  paradox,  as  it  at  first  ap- 
pears, that  thinking  is  the  essence  of  the 
soul,   Regis  has  explained  away.     After 
coming  to  the  conclusion,  "  Je  snis  done 
une  pensee,"  he  immediately  corrects  him- 
self: "  Cependant  je  crains  encore  de  me 
drfinir  mal,  quand  je  dis  que  je  suis  une 
ppnsee,  qui  a  la  propriety  de  douter  et 
d'avoir  de  la  certitude ;  car  quelle  appa- 
reuce  y  a-t-il  que  ma  nature,  qui  doit  etre 


une  chose  fixe  et  pennanente,  consiste 
dans  la  pensee,  puisque  je  sais  par  expe- 
rience que  mes  pensees  sent  dans  un  flux 
continuel,  et  que  je  ne  pense  jamais  i  ia 
meme  chose  deux  momens  de  suite  ;  mais 
quand  je  consider*  la  difiiculte  de  plus 
pres,  je  consols  aisement  qu'elle  vient  de 
ce  que  le  mot  de  penxre  est  equivoque,  et 
que  je  m'en  sers  indifferemment  pour  ?ig- 
nifier  la  pensee  qui  constitue  ina  nature, 
et  pour  designer  les  differeutes  mauii'Tcs 
d:6tre  de  cette  pensee;  ce  qui  est  11110 
erreur  extreme,  car  il  y  a  cette  difference 
eutre  la  pensee  qui  constitue  ma  nature, 
et  les  pensees  qui  n'eu  sont  que  les  ma- 
nieres  d'etre,  que  la  premiere  est  uni;  pi'n- 
see  fixe  et  pennanente,  et  que  les  autres 
sont  des  pensees  changeanteset  pa.-- 
C'est  pourquoi,  afin  de  donner  une  idee 
exacte  de  ma  nature,  je  dirai  que  je  suis 
une  pensee  qui  existe  en  elle-meme,  et  qui 
est  le  sujet  de  toutes  mes  manicres  de 
penser.  Je  dis  que  je  suis  une 
pour  marquer  ce  que  la  pensee  qui  con- 
stitue ma  nature  a  de  commun  avec  la 
pensee  en  general  qui  couiprend  sous  soi 
toutes  les  manieres  particulieres  de  pcn- 
ser:  et  j'ajoute,  qui  existe  en  elle-nieine, 
et  qui  est  le  sujet  de  differeutes  manierca 
de  penser,  pour  designer  ce  que  cette  pen 
see  a  de  particulier  qu<  la  distingue  d« 


CHAP.  m.  PORT-ROYAL  LOGIC.  81 

retractation  is  very  complete.  It  cannot  be  denied,  that  Huet 
strikes  well  at  the  vulnerable  parts  of  the  Cartesian  meta- 
physics, and  exposes  their  alternate  scepticism  and  dogmatism 
with  some  justice.  In  other  respects  he  displays  an  inferior 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind  and  of  the  principles  of  reason- 
ing to  Descartes.  He  repeats  Gassendi's  cavil,  that  "  Cogito, 
ergo  sum,"  involves  the  truth  of  "  Quod  cogitat,  est."  The 
Cartesians,  Huet  observes,  assert  the  major,  or  universal,  to  be 
deduced  from  the  minor ;  which,  though  true  in  things  known 
by  induction,  is  not  so  in  propositions  necessarily  known,  or 
as  the  schools  say,  a  priori,  as  that  the  whole  is  greater 
than  its  part  It  is  not,  however,  probable  that  Descartes 
would  have  extended  his  reply  to  Gassendi's  criticism  so  far 
as  this :  some  have  referred  our  knowledge  of  geometrical 
axioms  to  mere  experience,  but  this  seems  not  agreeable  to 
the  Cartesian  theory. 

32.  The  influence  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy  was  dis- 
played in  a  treatise  of  deserved  reputation,  L'Art  p0rt-Roy«i 
de  Penser,  often  called  the  Port-Royal  Logic.  It  Logic- 
seems  to  have  been  the  work  of  Antony  Arnauld,  with  some 
assistance,  perhaps,  by  Nicole.  Arnauld  was  not  an  entire 
Cartesian ;  he  had  himself  been  engaged  in  controversy  with 
Descartes :  but  his  understanding  was  clear  and  calm,  his  love 
of  truth  sincere,  and  he  could  not  avoid  recognizing  the  vast 

la  pensee  en  general,  TU  qu'elle  n'eriste  cording  to  him.  are  the  bases  of  all  cer- 

que   dans  1'entendement  de  celni  qui  la  tainty  in  physical  truth.     From  the  second 

conceit  ainsi  que  toutes  lea  autres  natures  axiom  he  deduces  the  objectivity  or  cause 

universellea."  —  p.  70.  exempiaire  of  his  idea  of  a  perfect  being ; 

Every  mode  supposes  a  substance  wherein  and  his  proof  seems  at  least  more  clearly 

it  exi*t*.     From  this  axiom.  Regis  deduces  put  than  by  Descartes.    Every  idea  im- 

the  objective  being  of  space,  because  we  plies  an  objective  reality;   for  otherwise 

have  the  ideas  of  length,  breadth,  and  there  would  be  an  effect  without  a  cau.se. 

depth,  which  cannot  belong  to  ourselves,  Tet  in  this  we  have  the  sophisms  and  beg- 

our  souls  having  none  of  these  properties;  ging  of  questions  of  which  we  may  see 

nor  could   the  ideas  be  suggested  by  a  many  instances  in  Spinosa. 
tuperior  being,  if  space  did  not  exist,  be-        In  the  second  part  of  the  first  book  of 

cause  they  would  be  the  representations  his  metaphysics,  Regis  treats  of  the  union 

«f  nonentity,  which  is  impossible.    But  of  soul  and  body,  and  concludes  that  the 

this  transcendental  proof  is  too  subtle  for  motions  of  the  body  only  act  on  the  soul 

the  world.  by  a  special  will  of  God,  who  has  deter- 

It  Is  an  axiom  of  Regis,  that  we  only  mine!  to  produce  certain  thoughts  simul- 

know  things  without  us  by  means  of  ideas,  taneoosly  with  certain  bodily  motions. — 

and  that  things   of  which   we   have   no  p.  124.     God  is  the  efficient  first  cause  of 

ideas  are  in  regard  to  us  as  if  they  did  not  all  effects ;  his  creatures  are  but  secondarily 

exist  at  all.    Another  axiom  is,  that  all  efficient.    But,  as  they  act  immediately, 

ideas,  considered  in  respect  to  their  repre-  we  may  ascribe  all  model  beings  to  the 

sentative  property,  depend  on  objects  as  efficiency  of  second  causes.     And  he  pre- 

their   types,  or  causes  txempiarrfs.     And  fers  this  expression  to  that  of  occasional 

a    third,    that   the    cause   exempiaire   of  causes,  usual  among  the  Cartesians,  be- 

ideas  must  contain  all  the  properties  which  cause  he  fancies  the  latter  rather  derogv 

the  ideas   represent.    These  axioms,  ac-  tory  to  the  fixed  will  of  God. 

VOL.  IV.  6 


82  L'ART  DE  PENSER.  PART  IV. 

superiority  of  the  new  philosophy  to  that  received  in  the 
schools.  This  logic,  accordingly,  is  perhaps  the  first  regular 
treatise  on  that  science  that  contained  a  protestation,  though 
in  very  moderate  language,  against  the  Aristotelian  method. 
The  author  tells  us,  that,  after  some  doubt,  he  had  resolved 
to  insert  a  few  things  rather  troublesome  and  of  little  value, 
such  as  the  rules  of  conversion  and  the  demonstration  of  the 
syllogistic  figures,  chiefly  as  exercises  of  the  understanding, 
for  which  difficulties  are  not  without  utility.  The  method  of 
syllogism  itself  he  deems  little  serviceable  in  the  discovery 
of  truth;  while  many  things  dwelt  upon  in  books  of  logic, 
such  as  the  ten  categories,  rather  injure  than  improve  the 
reasoning  faculties,  because  they  accustom  men  to  satisfy 
themselves  with  words,  and  to  mistake  a  long  catalogue  of 
arbitrary  definitions  for  real  knowledge.  Of  Aristotle  he 
speaks  in  more  .honorable  terms  than  Bacon  had  done  before, 
or  than  Malebranche  did  afterwards ;  acknowledging  the 
extraordinary  merit  of  some  of  his  writings,  but  pointing  out 
with  an  independent  spirit  his  failings  as  a  master  in  the  art 
of  reasoning. 

33.  The  first  part  of  L'Art  de  Penser  is  almost  entirely 
metaphysical,  in  the  usual  sense  of  that  word.     It  considers 
ideas  in  their  nature  and  origin,  in  the  chief  differences  of  the 
objects  they  represent,  in  their  simplicity  or  composition,  in 
their  extent,  as  universal,  particular,  or  singular ;  and,  lastly, 
in  their  distinctness  or  confusion.     The  word  "idea,"  it  is 
observed,  is  among  those  which  are  so  clear  that  we  cannot 
explain  them  by  means  of  others,  because  none  can  be  more 
clear   and   simple   than  themselves.1     But  here   it   may  be 
doubtful  whether  the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  to  be  taken 
must  strike  every  one  in  the  same  way.     The  clearness  of  a 
word  does  not  depend  on  its  association  with  a  distinct  con- 
ception in  our  own  minds,  but  on  the  generality  of  this  same 
association  in  the  minds  of  others. 

34.  No  follower  of  Descartes  has  more  unambiguously  than 
this  author  distinguished  between  imagination  and  intellection, 
though  he  gives  the  name  of  idea  to  both.     Many  suppose, 
he  says,  that  they  cannot  conceive  a  thing  when  they  cannot 
imagine  it.     But  we  cannot  imagine  a  figure  of  1,000  sides, 
though  we  can  conceive  it  and  reason  upon  it.     We  may, 
indeed,  get  a  confused  image  of  a  figure  with  many  sides ;  but 

»  c.i. 


CHAP.  in.  L'AKT  DE  PENSER.  83 

these  are  no  more  1,000  than  they  are  999.  Thus  also  we 
have  ideas  of  thinking,  affirming,  denying,  and  the  like,  though 
we  have  no  imagination  of  these  operations.  By  ideas,  there- 
fore, we  mean,  not  images  painted  in  the  fancy,  but  all  that  is 
in  our  minds  when  we  say  that  we  conceive  any  thing,  in 
whatever  manner  we  may  conceive  it.  Hence  it  is  easy 
to  judge  of  the  falsehood  of  some  opinions  held  in  this  age. 
One  philosopher  has  advanced,  that  we  have  no  idea  of  God ; 
another,  that  all  reasoning  is  but  an  assemblage  of  words  con- 
nected by  an  affirmation.  He  glances  here  at  Gassendi  and 
Hobbes.1  Far  from  all  our  ideas  coming  from  the  senses,  as 
the  Aristotelians  have  said,  and  as  Gassendi  asserts  in  his 
Logic,  we  may  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  no  idea  in  our  minds 
is  derived  from  the  senses  except  occasionally  (par  occasion)  ; 
that  is,  the  movements  of  the  brain,  which  is  all  that  the 
organs  of  sense  can  affect,  give  occasion  to  the  soul  to  form 
different  ideas  which  it  would  not  otherwise  form,  though 
these  ideas  have  scarce  ever  any  resemblance  to  what  occurs 
in  the  organs  of  sense  and  in  the  brain,  and  though  there  are 
also  very  many  ideas,  which,  deriving  nothing  from  any  bodily 
image,  cannot  without  absurdity  be  referred  to  the  senses.2 
This  is  perhaps  a  clearer  statement  of  an  important  truth 
than  will  be  found  in  Malebranche,  or  in  Descartes  himself. 

35.  In  the  second  part,  Arnauld  treats  of  words  and  propo- 
sitions.    Much  of  it  may  be  reckoned  more  within  the  pro- 
vince of  grammar  than  of  logic.     But  as  it  is  inconvenient  to 
refer  the  student  to  works  of  a  different  class,  especially  if 
it  should  be  the  case  that  no  good  grammars,  written  with 
a  regard  to  logical  principles,  were  then  to  be  found,  this  can- 
not justly  be  made  an  objection.     In  the  latter  chapters  of 
this  second  part,  he  comes  to  much  that  is  strictly  logical,  and 
taken  from  ordinary  books  on  that  science.     The  third  part 
relates  to  syllogisms ;    and  notwithstanding  the  author's  low 
estimation  of  that  method,  in  comparison   with  the  general 
regard  for  it  in  the  schools,  he  has  not  omitted  the  common 
explanations  of  mood  and  figure,  ending  with  a  concise  but 
good  account  of  the  chief  sophisms. 

36.  The  fourth  and  last  part  is  entitled,  On  Method,  and 

1  The  reflection  on  Gaesendi  is  a  mere  had  himself  been  to  blame  in  this  contro- 

cavil,  as  will  appear  by  remarking  what  he  versy  with  the  father  of  the  new  philoso- 

has  really  said,  and  which  we  have  quoted  phy,  and  the  disciples  (calling  the  author 

»  few  pages  above.     The  Cartesians  were  of  L'Artde  Penser  such  in  a  general  wense) 

resolute  in  using  one  sense  of  the  word  retaliated  by  equal  captiouwiess. 

"idea,"  while  (jasseudi  used  another.     He  2  U.I. 


84  MALEBEANCHE.  PAKT  IV. 

contains  the  principles  of  connected  reasoning,  which  he 
justly  observes  to  be  more  important  than  the  rules  of  single 
syllogisms,  wherein  few  make  any  mistake.  The  laws  of 
demonstration  given  by  Pascal  are  here  laid  down  with  some 
enlargement.  Many  observations  not  wholly  bearing  on  mere- 
ly logical  proof  are  found  in  this  part  of  the  treatise. 

37.  The  Port-Royal  Logic,  though  not  perhaps  very  much 
read  in  England,  has  always  been  reckoned  among  the  best 
works  in  that  science,  and  certainly  had  a  great  influence  in 
rendering  it  more  metaphysical,  more   ethical   (for  much  is 
said  by  Arnauld  on  the  moral  discipline  of  the  mind  in  order 
to  fit  it  for  the  investigation  of  truth),  more  exempt  from 
technical  barbarisms,  and  trifling  definitions  and  divisions.     It 
became  more  and  more  acknowledged,  that  the  rules  of  syllo 
gism  go  a  very  little  way  in  rendering  the  mind  able  to  follow 
a  course  of  inquiry  without  error,  much  less  in  assisting  it  to 
discover  truth ;  and  that  even  their  vaunted  prerogative  of 
securing  us  from  fallacy  is   nearly  ineffectual   in  exercise. 
The  substitution  of  the  French  language,  in  its  highest  polish, 
for  the  uncouth   Latinity  of  the  Aristotelians,   was   another 
advantage  of  which  the  Cartesian  school  legitimately  availed 
themselves. 

38.  Malebranche,  whose  Recherche  de  la  Verite  was  pub- 
Mate.          lished  in  1674,  was  a  warm  and  almost  enthusiastic 
branche.      admirer  of  Descartes  ;  but  his  mind  was  independent, 
searching,  and  fond  of  its  own  inventions :  he  acknowledged  no 
master,  and  in  some  points  dissents  from  the  Cartesian  school. 
His  natural  temperament  was  sincere  and  rigid:  he  judges 
the  moral  and  intellectual  failings  of  mankind  with  a  severe 
scrutiny,  and  a  contemptuousness  not  generally  unjust  in  itself, 
but  displaying  too  great  confidence  in  his  own  superiority 
This  was  enhanced  by  a  religious  mysticism,  which  enters,  as 
an  essential  element,  into  his  philosophy  of  the  mind.     The 
fame  of  Malebranche,  and  still  more  the  popularity  in  modern 
times  of  his  Search  for  Truth,  has  been  affected  by  that  pecu 
liar  hypothesis,  so  mystically  expressed,  the  seeing  all  things  in 
God,  which  has  been  more  remembered  than  any  other  part 
of  that  treatise.     "  The  union,"  he  says,  "  of  the  soul  to  God 
is  the  only  means  by  which  we  acquire  a  knowledge  of  truth. 
This  union  has  indeed  been  rendered  so  obscure  by  original 
sin,  that  few  can  understand  what  it  means :    to  those  who 
follow  blindly  the  dictates  of  sense  and  passion,  it  appears 


CHAP.  III.  HIS  STYLE.  85 

imaginary.  The  same  cause  has  so  fortified  the  connection 
between  the  soul  and  body,  that  we  look  on  them  as  one 
substance,  of  which  the  latter  is  the  principal  part.  And 
hence  we  may  all  fear,  that  we  do  not  well  discern  the  con- 
fused sounds  with  which  the  senses  fill  the  imagination  from 
that  pure  voice  of  truth  which  speaks  to  the  soul.  The  body 
speaks  louder  than  God  himself;  and  our  pride  makes  us 
presumptuous  enough  to  judge  without  waiting  for  those 
words  of  truth,  without  which  we  cannot  truly  judge  at  all. 
And  the  present  work,"  he  adds,  "  may  give  evidence  of 
this  ;  for  it  is  not  published  as  being  infallible.  But  let  my 
readers  judge  of  my  opinions  according  to  the  clear  and 
distinct  answers  they  shall  receive  from  the  only  Lord  of 
all  men,  after  they  shall  have  interrogated  him  by  paying  a 
serious  attention  to  the  subject."  This  is  a  strong  evidence 
of  the  enthusiastic  confidence  in  supernatural  illumination 
which  belongs  to  Malebranche,  and  which  we  are  almost 
surprised  to  find  united  with  so  much  cool  and  acute  rea- 
soning as  his  writings  contain. 

39.  The  Recherche  de  la  Yerite  is  in  six  books  ;   the  first 
five  on  the  errors  springing  from  the  senses,  from  the 
imagination,  from  the  understanding,  from  the  na- 
tural inclinations,  and  from  the  passions.      The  sixth  con- 
tains  the  method   of  avoiding    these,  which,   however,  has 
been  anticipated  in   great  measure   throughout   the  preced- 
ing.    Malebranche  has  many  repetitions,  but  little,  I  think, 
that  can  be  called  digressive  ;  though  he  takes  a  large  range 
of  illustration,  and  dwells  rather  diffusely  on  topics  of  sub- 
ordinate importance.     His  style  is  admirable ;  clear,  precise, 
elegant ;  sparing  in  metaphors,  yet  not  wanting  them  in  due 
place;  warm,  and  sqmetimes  eloquent;  a  little  redundant,  but 
never  passionate  or  declamatory. 

40.  Error,  according  to  Malebranche,  is  the  source  of  all 
human  misery :    man  is  miserable  because  he  is  a   sketch  of 
sinner,  and  he  would  not  sin  if  he  did  not  consent  to   his  theory 
err.     For  the  will  alone  judges  and  reasons,  the  understand- 
ing only  perceives  things  and  their  relations,  —  a  deviation 
from  common   language,  to  say  the  least,  that  seems  quite 
unnecessary.1     The  will  is  active  and  free ;  not  that  we  can 
avoid  willing  our  own  happiness  ;  but  it  possesses  a  power  of 
turning  the  understanding  towards  such  objects  as  please  us, 

»  L.  i.  c.  2. 


86  MALEBRAISCHE.  PAKT  IV. 

and  commanding  it  to  examine  every  thing  thoroughly,  else 
we  should  be  perpetually  deceived,  and  without  remedy,  by 
the  appearances  of  truth.  And  this  liberty  we  should  use  on 
every  occasion :  it  is  to  become  slaves,  against  the  will  of 
God,  when  we  acquiesce  in  false  appearances ;  but  it  is  in 
obedience  to  the  voice  of  eternal  truth  which  speaks  within 
us,  that  we  submit  to  those  secret  reproaches  of  reason,  which 
accompany  our  refusal  to  yield  to  evidence.  There  are, 
therefore,  two  fundamental  rules,  —  one  for  science,  the  other 
for  morals :  never  to  give  an  entire  consent  to  any  proposi- 
tions, except  those  which  are  so  evidently  true  that  we  cannot 
refuse  to  admit  them  without  an  internal  uneasiness  and 
reproach  of  our  reason ;  and  never  fully  to  love  any  thing 
which  we  can  abstain  from  loving  without  remorse.  We  may 
feel  a  great  inclination  to  consent  absolutely  to  a  probable 
opinion  ;  yet,  on  reflection,  we  shall  find  that  we  are  not  com- 
pelled to  do  so  by  any  tacit  self-reproach  if  we  do  not. 
And  we  ought  to  consent  to  such  probable  opinions  for  the 
time  until  we  have  more  fully  examined  the  question. 

41.  The  sight  is  the  noblest  of  our  senses ;  and,  if  they 
had  been  given  us  to  discover  truth,  it  is  through  vision  that 
we  should  have  done  it.     But  it  deceives  us  in  all  that  it 
represents  ;  in  the  size  of  bodies,  their  figures  and  motions,  in 
light  and  colors.     None  of  these  are  such  as  they  appeal',  as 
he  proves  by  many  obvious  instances.     Thus  we  measure  the 
velocity  of  motion  by  duration  of  time,  and  extent  of  space ; 
but  of  duration  the  mind  can  form  no  just  estimate,  and  the 
eye  cannot  determine  equality  of  spaces.     The  diameter  of 
the  moon  is  greater  by  measurement  when  she  is  high  in  the 
heavens  :  it  appears  greater  to  our  eyes  in  the  horizon.1     On 
all  sides  we  are  beset  with  error  through  our  senses.     Not 
that  the  sensations  themselves,  properly  speaking,  deceive  us. 
We  are  not  deceived  in  supposing  that  we  see  an  orb  of  light 
before  the  sun  has  risen  above  the  horizon,  but  in  supposing 
that  what  we  see  is  the  sun  itself.     Were  we  even  delirious, 
we  should  see  and  feel  what  our  senses  present  to  us,  though 
our  judgment  as  to  its  reality  would  be  erroneous.   And  this 
judgment  we  may  withhold  by  assenting  to  nothing  without 
perfect  certainty. 

42.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for  a  man  endowed  with 

1  L.  i.  c.  9.    Malebranche  wax  engaged  afterwards  in  a  controversy  with  Regis  on 
this  particular  question  of  the  horizontal  uiooii. 


CHAP.  III.  SKETCH  OF  HIS  THEORY.  87 

such  intrepidity  and  acuteness  as  Malebranche  to  overlook  the 
question,  so  naturally  raised  by  this  sceptical  theory,  as  to 
the  objective  existence  of  an  external  world.  There  is  no 
necessary  connection,  he  observes,  between  the  presence  of  an 
idea  in  the  soul,  and  the  existence  of  the  thing  which  it 
represents ;  as  dreams  and  delirium  prove.  Yet  we  may  be 
confident,  that  extension,  figure,  and  movement  do  generally 
exist  without  us  when  we  perceive  them.  These  are  not 
imaginary :  we  are  not  deceived  in  believing  their  reality, 
though  it  is  very-  difficult  to  prove  it.  But  it  is  far  other- 
wise with  colors,  smells,  or  sounds ;  for  these  do  not  exist  at 
all  beyond  the  mind.  This  he  proceeds  to  show  at  considera- 
ble length.1  In  one  of  the  illustrations  subsequently  written 
in  order  to  obviate  objections,  and  subjoined  to  the  Recherche 
de  la  Verite,  Malebranche  comes  again  to  this  problem  of 
the  reality  of  matter,  and  concludes  by  subverting  every 
argument  hi  its  favor,  except  what  he  takes  to  be  the 
assertion  of  Scripture.  Berkeley,  who  did  not  see  this  in 
the  same  light,  had  scarcely  a  step  to  take  in  his  own 
famous  theory,  which  we  may  consider  as  having  been  an- 
ticipated by  Malebranche,  with  the  important  exception  that 
what  was  only  scepticism,  and  denial  of  certainty,  in  the  one, 
became  a  positive  and  dogmatic  affirmation  in  the  other. 

43.  In  all  our  sensations,  he  proceeds  to  show,  there  are 
four  things  distinct  in  themselves,  but  which,  examined  as 
they  arise  simultaneously,  we  are  apt  to  confound  :  these  are 
the  action  of  the  object,  the  effect  upon  the  organ  of  sense, 
the  mere  sensation,  and  the  judgment  we  form  as  to  its  cause. 
We  fall  into  errors  as  to  all  these,  confounding  the  sensation 
with  the  action  of  bodies,  as  when  we  say  there  is  heat  in  the 
fire,  or  color  in  the  rose ;  or  confounding  the  motion  of  the 
nerves  with  sensation,  as  when  we  refer  heat  to  the  hand ;  but 
most  of  all,  in  drawing  mistaken  inferences  as  to  the  nature  of 
objects  from  our  sensations.2  It  may  be  here  remarked,  that 
what  Malebranche  has  properly  called  the  judgment  of  the 
mind  as  to  the  cause  of  its  sensations,  is  precisely  what  Reid 
denominates  perception  ;  a  term  less  clear,  and  which  seems 
to  have  led  some  of  his  school  into  important  errors.  The 
language  of  the  Scottish  philosopher  appears  to  imply  that  he 
considered  perception  as  a  distinct  and  original  faculty  of  the 
mind,  rather  than  what  it  is, — a  complex  operation  of  the  judg- 

»  L.  i.  c.  10.  »  C.  12 


88 


PERCEPTION. 


PART  IV. 


ment  and  memory,  applying  knowledge  already  acquired  by 
experience.  Neither  he,  nor  his  disciple  Stewart,  though 
aware  of  the  mistakes  that  have  arisen  in  this  province  of 
metaphysics  by  selecting  our  instances  from  the  phenomena 
of  vision  instead  of  the  other  senses,  have  avoided  the  same 
source  of  error.  The  sense  of  sight  has  the  prerogative  of 
enabling  us  to  pronounce  instantly  on  the  external  cause 
of  our  sensation ;  and  this  perception  is  so  intimately  blend- 
ed with  the  sensation  itself,  that  it  does  not  imply  in  our 
ninds,  whatever  may  be  the  case  with  young  children,  the 
east  consciousness  of  a  judgment.  But  we  need  only  make 
our  experiment  upon  sound  or  smell,  and  we  shall  at  once 
acknowledge  that  there  is  no  sort  of  necessary  connection 
between  the  sensation  and  our  knowledge  of  its  correspond- 
ing external  object.  We  hear  sounds  continually  which  we 
are  incapable  of  referring  to  any  particular  body ;  nor  does 
any  one,  I  suppose,  deny  that  it  is  by  experience  alone  we 
learn  to  pronounce,  with  more  or  less  of  certainty  accord- 
ing to  its  degree,  on  the  causes  from  which  these  sensations 
proceed.1 


1  [The  word  "  perception  "  has  not,  in 
this  passage,  been  used  in  its  most  ap- 
proved sense;  but  the  language  of  phi- 
losophers is  not  uniform.  Locke  often  con- 
founds perception  with  sensation,  so  as  to 
employ  the  words  indifferently.  But  this 
Is  not  the  case  when  he  writes  with  atten- 
tion. "  The  ideas,"  he  says,  "  we  receive 
from  sensation  are  often  in  grown  people 
altered  by  the  judgment  without  our 
taking  notice  of  it ; "  instancing  a  globe, 
"  of  which  the  idea  imprinted  in  our  own 
mind  is  of  a  flat  circle  variously  shadowed ; 
but  we,  having  been  by  use  accustomed  to 
perceive  what  kind  of  appearance  convex 
bodies  are  wont  to  make  in  us,  what  altera- 
tions are  made  in  the  reflections  of  light 
by  the  difference  of  the  sensible  figures  of 
bodies,  the  judgment  presently,  by  an 
habitual  custom,  alters  the  appearances 
of  things  into  their  causes ;  so  that,  from 
that  which  truly  is  variety  of  shadow  or 
color,  collecting  the  figure,  it  makes  it  pass 
for  a  mark  of  a  figure,  and  frames  to  itself 
the  perception  of  a  convex  figure  and  an 
uniform  color,  when  the  idea  we  receive 
from  thence  is  only  a  plane  variously 
colored."  —  B.  ii.  ch.  9.  M.  Cousin,  there- 
fore, is  hardly  just  in  saying  that  "  per- 
ception, according  to  Locke,  does  nothing 
but  perceive  the  sensation, — it  is  hardly 
more  than  an  effect  of  the  sensation."  — 
Cours  de  1'Hist.  de  la  Philosophic,  vol.  ii. 
p  136^  edit.  1829.  Doubtless  perception 


is  the  effect  of  sensation  ;  but  Locke  ex 
tends  the  word,  in  this  passage  at  least,  to 
much  of  which  mere  sensation  has  only 
furnished  the  materials,  to  the  inferences 
derived  from  experience.  Later  metaphy- 
sicians limit  more  essentially  the  use  of 
the  word.  "  La  perception,"  says  M.  de 
Remusat, "  dans  sa  plus  grande  complicate, 
n'est  que  la  distinction  mentale  de  1'objet 
de  la  sensation."  —  Essais  de  Philosophic, 
vol.  ii.  p.  372.  Kant,  with  his  usual 
acnteness  of  discrimination,  analyzes  the 
process.  \Ve  have,  first,  the.  phenomenon, 
or  appearance  of  the  object,  under  which 
he  comprehends  the  impression  made  on 
the  organ  of  sense ;  secondly,  the  sensa- 
tion itself;  thirdly,  the  representation  of 
the  object  by  the  mind ;  fourthly,  the 
reference  of  this  representation  to  the  ob- 
ject. And  there  may  be,  but  not  neces- 
sarily, the  conception  or  knowledge  of 
what  the  object  is.  Id.,  vol.  i.  p.  270. 
Locke  sometimes  seems  to  use  the  word 
"  perception  "  for  the  third  of  these :  Keid 
very  frequently  for  the  fourth.  In  his 
first  work,  indeed,  the  Inquiry  into  the 
Human  Mind,  he  expressly  distinguishes 
perception  from  "  that  knowledge  of  the 
objects  of  sense,  which  is  got  by  reasoning. 
There  is  no  reasoning  in  perception.  Th« 
belief  which  is  implied  in  it  is  the  effect  of 
instinct."  —  Chap.  vi.  §  20.  But,  in  fact, 
he  limits  the  strict  province  of  perception 
to  the  primary  qualities  of  matter,  and  to 


CHAP.  III.  SENSATION  — IMAGINATION.  89 

44.  Sensation  he  defines  to  be  "  a  modification  of  the  soul 
in  relation  to  something  which  passes  in  the  body  to  which  she 
is  united."     These  sensations  we  know  by  experience ;  it  is 
idle  to  go  about  defining  or  explaining  them ;    this  cannot  be 
done  by  words.     It  is  an  error,  according  to  Malebranche, 
to  believe  that  all  men  have  like  sensations  from  the  same 
objects.     In  this  he  goes  farther  than  Pascal,  who  thinks  it 
probable  that  they  have ;  while  Malebranche  holds  it  indubi- 
table, from  the  organs  of  men  being  constructed  differently, 
that  they  do  not  receive  similar  impressions,  instancing  music, 
some  smells  and  flavors,  and  many  other  things  of  the  same 
kind.     But  it  is  obvious  to  reply,  that  he  has  argued  from  the 
exception  to  the  rule ;  the  great  majority  of  mankind  agreeing 
as  to  musical  sounds  (which  is  the  strongest  case  that  can  be 
put  against  his  paradox)  and  most  other  sensations.     That  the 
sensations  of  different  men,  subject  to  such  exceptions,  if  not 
strictly  alike,  are,  so  to  say,  in  a  constant  ratio,  seems  as  indis 
putable  as  any  conclusion  we  can  draw  from  their  testimony. 

45.  The  second  book  of  Malebranche's  treatise  relates  to 
the  imagination,  and  the  errors  connected  with   it.     "  The 
imagination  consists  in  the  power  of  the  mind  to  form  images 
of  objects  by  producing  a  change  in  the  fibres  of  that  part  of 
the  brain,  which  may  be  called   principal   because  it  corre- 
sponds with  all  parts  of  the  body,  and  is  the  place  where  the 
soul,  if  we  may  so  speak,  immediately  resides."     This  he  sup- 
poses to  be  where  all  the  filaments  of  the  brain  terminate ;  so 
difficult  was  it,  especially  in  that  age,  for  a  philosopher  who 

the  idea  of  space.    Both  Locke  and  Reid,  not  at  all  in  the  three  other  senses.     In 

however,  sometimes  extend  it  to  the  con-  the  other  it  is  a  reference  of  the  sensation 

ception  or  knowledge  of  the  actual  object,  to  a  known  object,  and  in  all  the  senses : 

We  have  just  quoted  a  passage  from  Locke,  we  perceive  an  oak-tree,  the  striking  of 

"  In  two  of  our  senses,"  saysjKeid,  "  touch  the  clock,  the  perfume  of  a  violet.     The 

and  taste,  there  must  be  an  immediate  more  philosophical  sense  of  the  word  "  per- 

application  of  the  object  to  the  organ ;  in  ception"  limits  greatly  the  extent  of  the 

the  other  three,  the  object  is  perceived  at  a  faculty.     "  We    perceive,"   says    Sir  W. 

distance,  but  still  by  means  of  a  medium  Hamilton,  on  the  passage  last  quoted  from 

by  which  some  impression  is  made  upon  Reid,  "nothing  but  what  is  in  relation  to 

the  organ."  —  Intellect.  Powers,  Essay  II.  the  organ;   and   nothing   is    in   relation 

ch.    ii.    But    perception    of   the  object,  to  the  organ  that  is  not  present  to  it.     All 

through  the  organs  of  sound,  smell,  and  the  senses  are,  in  fact,  modifications  of 

taste,  must  of  necessity  imply  a  knowledge  touch,  as  Democritus  of  old  taught.    We 

of   it    derived    from    experience.     Those  reach  the  distant  reality,  not  by  sense,  not 

senses,  by  themselves,  give  us  no  percep-  by  perception,  but  by  inference."    Brown 

tion  of  external  things.    But  the  word  has  had  said  the  same.    This  has  been,  in  the 

one  meaning  in  modern  philosophy,  and  case  of  sight,  controverted  by  Dr.  Whewell ; 

another  in  popular  usage,  which  philoso-  but  whether  we  see  objects,  strictly  speak- 

phcrs  sometimes  inadvertently  follow.     In  ing,  at  a  distance,  or  on  the  retina,  it  i* 

the  first  it  is  a  mere  reference  of  the  sensa-  evident  that  we  do  not  know  what  they 

tion  to  some  external  object,  more  definite  are,  till  we  have  been  taught  by  expert 

in  sight,  somewhat  less  so  in  touch,  and  ence.  — 1847.] 


90  CEREBRAL  MOTIONS.  PART  IV. 

had  the  clearest  perception  of  the  soul's  immateriality  to  free 
himself  from  the  analogies  of  extended  presence  and  material 
impulse.  The  imagination,  he  says,  comprehends  two  things ; 
the  action  of  the  will,  and  the  obedience  of  the  animal  spirits 
which  trace  images  on  the  brain.  The  power  of  conception 
depends  partly  upon  the  strength  of  those  animal  spirits, 
partly  on  the  qualities  of  the  brain  itself.  For  just  as  the 
size,  the  depth,  and  the  clearness  of  the  lines  in  an  engraving 
depend  on  the  force  with  which  the  graver  acts,  and  on  the 
obedience  which  the  copper  yields  to  it,  so  the  depth  and 
clearness  of  the  traces  of  the  imagination  depend  on  the  force 
of  the  animal  spirits,  and  on  the  constitution  of  the  fibres  of 
the  brain ;  and  it  is  the  difference  of  these  which  occasions 
almost  the  whole  of  that  vast  inequality  which  we  find  in  the 
capacities  of  men. 

46.  This  arbitrary,  though  rather  specious  hypothesis,  which, 
in  the  present  more  advanced  state  of  physiology,  a  philosopher 
might  not  in  all  points  reject,  but  would  certainly  not  assume, 
is  spread  out  by  Malebranche  over  a  large  part  of  his  work, 
and  especially  the  second  book.     The  delicacy  of  the  fibres 
of  the  brain,  he  supposes,  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  our 
not  giving  sufficient  application  to  difficult  subjects.     Women 
possess  this  delicacy,  and  hence  have  more  intelligence  than 
men  as  to  all  sensible  objects ;  but  whatever  is  abstract  is  to 
them  incomprehensible.     The  fibres  are  soft  in  children,  and 
become  stronger  with  age,  the  greatest  perfection  of  the  un- 
derstanding being  between  thirty  and  fifty ;  but  with  preju- 
diced men,  and  especially  when  they  are  advanced  in  life,  the 
hardness  of  the  cerebral  fibre  confirms  them  in  error.     For 
we   can   understand  nothing  without   attention,   nor  attend 
to  it  without  having  a  strong  image  in  the  brain ;   nor  can 
that  image  be  formed  without  a  suppleness  and  susceptibility 
of  motion  in  the  brain  itself.     It  is,  therefore,  highly  useful  to 
get  the  habit  of  thinking  on  all  subjects,  and  thus  to  give  the 
brain  a  facility  of  motion  analogous  to  that  of  the  fingers  in 
playing  on  a  musical  instrument ;   and  this  habit  is  best  ac- 
quired by  seeking  truth  in  difficult  things  while  we  are  young, 
because  it  ia  then  that  the  fibres  are  most  easily  bent  in  all 
directions.1 

47.  This  hypothesis,  carried  so  far  as  it  has  been  by  Male- 
branche, goes  very  great  lengths  in  asserting  not  merely  a 

'  L.  ii  o.  1. 


CHAP.  m.  INTELLECTUAL  PROCESSES.  91 

connection  between  the  cerebral  motions  and  the  operations  of 
the  mind,  but  something  like  a  subordination  of  the  latter  to  a 
plastic  power  in  the  animal  spirits  of  the  brain.  For  if  the 
differences  in  the  intellectual  powers  of  mankind,  and  also,  as 
he  afterwards  maintains,  in  their  moral  emotions,  are  to  be 
accounted  for  by  mere  bodily  configuration  as  their  regulating 
cause,  little  more  than  a  naked  individuality  of  consciousness 
seems  to  be  left  to  the  immaterial  principle.  No  one,  how- 
ever, whether  he  were  staggered  by  this  difficulty  or  not,  had 
a  more  decided  conviction  of  the  essential  distinction  between 
mind  and  matter  than  this  disciple  of  Descartes.  The  soul,  he 
says,  does  not  become  body,  nor  the  body  soul,  by  their  union. 
Each  substance  remains  as  it  is ;  the  soul  incapable  of  exten- 
sion and  motion,  the  body  incapable  of  thought  and  desire. 
All  the  alliance  between  soul  and  body  which  is  known  to  us 
consists  in  a  natural  and  mutual  correspondence  of  the 
thoughts  of  the  former  with  the  traces  on  the  brain,  and  of 
its  emotions  with  the  traces  of  the  animal  spirits.  As  soon  as 
the  soul  receives  new  ideas,  new  traces  are  imprinted  on  the 
brain ;  and,  as  soon  as  external  objects  imprint  new  traces, 
the  soul  receives  new  ideas.  Not  that  it  contemplates  these 
traces,  for  it  has  no  knowledge  of  them ;  nor  that  the  traces 
contain  the  ideas,  since  they  have  no  relation  to  them ;  nor 
that  the  soul  receives  her  ideas  from  the  traces,  for  it  is  incon- 
ceivable that  the  soul  should  receive  any  thing  from  the  body, 
and  become  more  enlightened,  as  some  philosophers  (meaning 
Gassendi)  express  it,  by  turning  itself  towards  the  phantasms 
in  the  brain.  Thus,  also,  when  the  soul  wills  that  the  arm 
should  move,  the  arm  moves,  though  she  does  not  even  know 
what  else  is  necessary  for  its  motion ;  and  thus,  when  the 
animal  spirits  are  put  into  movement,  the  soul  is  disturbed, 
though  she  does  not  even  know  that  there  are  animal  spirits 
in  the  body. 

48.  These  remarks  of  Malebranche  it  is  important  to 
familiarize  to  our  minds ;  and  those  who  reflect  upon  them 
will  neither  fall  into  the  gross  materialism  to  which  many 
physiologists  appear  prone,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  out  of  fear 
of  allowing  too  much  to  the  bodily  organs,  reject  any  sufficient 
proof  that  may  be  adduced  for  the  relation  between  the  cere- 
bral system  and  the  intellectual  processes.  These  opposite 
errors  are  by  no  means  uncommon  in  the  present  age.  But, 
without  expressing  an  opinion  on  that  peculiar  hypothesis 


92  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  PART  IV. 

which  is  generally  called  phrenology,  we  might  ask  whether  it 
is  not  quite  as  conceivable,  that  a  certain  state  of  portions  of 
the  brain  may  be  the  antecedent  condition  of  memory  or  ima- 
gination, as  that  a  certain  state  of  nervous  filaments  may  be, 
what  we  know  it  is,  an  invariable  antecedent  of  sensation.  In 
neither  instance  can  there  be  any  resemblance  or  proper 
representation  of  the  organic  motion  transferred  to  the  soul ; 
nor  ought  we  to  employ,  even  in  metaphor,  the  analogies  of 
impulse  or  communication.  But  we  have  two  phenomena, 
between"  which,  by  the  constitution  of  our  human  nature,  and 
probably  by  that  of  the  very  lowest  animals,  there  is  a  perpe- 
tual harmony  and  concomitance ;  an  ultimate  fact,  according 
to  the  present  state  of  our  faculties,  which  may  in  some  senses 
be  called  mysterious,  inasmuch  as  we  can  neither  fully  appre- 
hend its  final  causes,  nor  all  the  conditions  of  its  operation, 
but  one  which  seems  not  to  involve  any  appearance  of  contra- 
diction, and  should  therefore  not  lead  us  into  the  useless 
perplexity  of  seeking  a  solution  that  is  almost  evidently  be- 
yond our  reach. 

49.  The  association  of  ideas  is  far  more  extensively  deve- 
loped by  Malebranche  in  this  second  book  than  by  any  of  the 
old  writers,  not  even,  I  think,  with  the  exception  of  Hobbes ; 
though  he  is  too  fond  of  mixing  the  psychological  facts  which 
experience  furnishes  with  his  precarious,  however  plausible, 
theory  of  cerebral  traces.     Many  of  his  remarks  are  acute 
and  valuable.     Thus  he  observes,  that  writers  who  make  use 
of  many  new  terms  in  science,  under  the  notion  of  being  more 
intelligible,  are  often  not  understood  at  all,  whatever  care  they 
may  take  to  define  their  words.     We  grant  in  theory  their 
right  to  do  this ;  but  nature  resists.     The  new  words,  having 
no  ideas  previously  associated  with  them,  fall  out  of  the  read- 
er's mind,  except  in  mathematics,  where  they  can  be  rendered 
evident  by  diagrams.     In  all  this  part,   Malebranche  expa- 
tiates on  the  excessive  deference  shown  to  authority,  which, 
because  it  is  great  in  religion,  we  suppose  equally  conclusive 
in  philosophy,  and  on  the  waste  of  time  which  mere  reading 
of  many  books  entails ;    experience,  he  says,  having  always 
shown  that  those  who  have  studied  most  are  the  very  persons 
who  have  led  the  world  into  the  greatest  errors.     The  whole 
of  the  chapters  on  this  subject  is  worth  perusal. 

50.  In  another  part  of  this  second  book,  Malebranche  has 
opened  a  new  and  fertile  vein,  which  he  is  far  from  having 


CHAP.  HI.    CONTAGIOUS  POWER  OF  IMAGINATION.  93 

exhausted,  on  what  he  calls  the  contagiousness  of  a  powerful 
imagination.  Minds  of  this  character,  he  observes,  rule  those 
which  are  feebler  in  conception :  they  give  them  by  degree? 
their  own  .habit,  they  impress  their  own  type  ;  and  as  men  of 
strong  imagination  are  themselves  for  the  most  part  very 
unreasonable,  their  brains  being  cut  up,  as  it  were,  by  deep 
traces,  which  leave  no  room  for  any  thing  else,  no  source  of 
human  error  is  more  dangerous  than  this  contagiousness 
of  their  disorder.  This  he  explains,  in  his  favorite  physiolo- 
gy, by  a  certain  natural  sympathy  between  the  cerebral  fibres 
of  different  men,  which  being  wanting  in  any  one  with  whom 
we  converse,  it  is  vain  to  expect  that  he  will  enter  into  our 
views,  and  we  must  look  for  a  more  sympathetic  tissue 
elsewhere. 

51.  The   moral   observations   of  Malebranche   are   worth 
more  than  these  hypotheses  with  which  they  are  mingled. 
Men  of  powerful  imagination  express  themselves  with  force 
and  vivacity,  though  not  always  in  the  most  natural  manner, 
and  often  with  great  animation  of  gesture :    they  deal  with 
subjects  that  excite  sensible  images  ;  and  from  all  this  they 
acquire    a   great  power   of  persuasion.      This   is    exercised 
especially  over  persons   in  subordinate  relations ;    and  thus 
children,  servants,  or  courtiers  adopt  the  opinions  of  their 
superiors.     Even  in  religion,  nations  have  been  found  to  take 
up  the  doctrines  of  their  rulers,  as  has  been  seen  in  England. 
In  certain   authors,  who   influence   our   minds   without   any 
weight  of  argument,  this  despotism  of  a  strong  imagination  is 
exercised,  which  he  particularly  illustrates  by  the  examples  of 
Tertullian,   Seneca,  and  Montaigne.     The  contagious  power 
of  imagination  is  ateo  manifest  in  the  credulity  of  mankind 
as  to  apparitions  and  witchcraft ;  and  he  observes,  that,  where 
witches  are  burned,  there  is  generally  a  great  number  of  them, 
while,  since  some  parliaments  have  ceased  to  punish  for  sor- 
cery, the  offence  has  diminished  within  their  jurisdiction. 

52.  The  application  which  these  striking  and  original  views 
will  bear  spreads  far  into  the  regions  of  moral  philosophy  in 
the  largest  sense  of  that  word.     It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon, 
and  idle  to  cavil  at,  the  physiological  theories  to  which  Male- 
branche has  had  recourse.     False  let  them  be,  what  is  derived 
from  the  experience  of  human  nature  will  always  be  true. 
No  one  general  phenomenon  in  the  intercommunity  of  man- 
kind with  each  other  is  more  worthy  to  be  remembered,  or 


94  IDEAS  OF  PURE  INTELLECT.       PAET  IV. 

more  evident  to  an  observing  eye,  than  this  contagiousness, 
as  Malebranche  phrases  it,  of  a  powerful  imagination,  espe- 
cially when  assisted  by  any  circumstances  that  secure  and 
augment  its  influence.  The  history  of  every  popular  delusion, 
and  even  the  petty  events  of  every  day  in  private  life,  are 
witnesses  to  its  power. 

53.  The  third  book  is  entitled,  Of  the  Understanding  or 
Pure  Spirit  (VEsprit  Pur).     By  the  pure  understanding  he 
means  the  faculty  of  the  soul  to  know  the  reality  of  certain 
things  without  the   aid   of  images   in   the   brain.     And   he 
warns  the  reader  that  the  inquiry  will  be   found   dry   and 
obscure.     The  essence  of  the   soul,   he   says,   following  his 
Cartesian  theory,  consists  in  thought,  as  that  of  matter  does  in 
extension ;  will,  imagination,  memory,  and  the  like,  are  modi- 
fications of  thought  or  forms  of  the   soul,   as   water,   wood, 
or  fire  are  modifications  of  matter.     This  sort  of  expression 
has  been  adopted  by  our  metaphysicians  of  the  Scots  school 
in  preference  to  the  ideas  of  reflection,  as  these  operations 
are    called  by  Locke.     But  by  the  word   thought    (pensee), 
Malebranche,  like  Regis,  does  not  mean  these  modification?, 
but  the  soul  or  thinking  principle  absolutely,  capable  of  all 
these  modifications,  as  extension  is  neither  round  nor  sqiiare, 
though  capable  of  either  form.     The  power  of  volition,  and, 
by  parity  of  reasoning  we  may  add,  of  thinking,  is  inseparable 
from  the  soul,  but  not  the  acts  of  volition  or  thinking  them- 
selves ;  as  a  body  is  always  movable,  though  it  be  not  always 
in  motion. 

54.  In  this  book  it  does  not  seem  that  Malebranche  has 
been  very  successful  in  distinguishing  the  ideas  of  pure  intel- 
lect from  those  which  the  senses  or  imagination  present  to  us  ; 
nor  do  we  clearly  see  what  he  means  by  the  former,  except 
those  of  existence  and  a  few  more.     But  he  now  hastens  to 
his  peculiar  hypothesis  as  to  the  mode  of  perception.     l>y 
ideas  he  understands  the  immediate  object  of  the  soul,  which 
nil  the  world,  he  supposes,  will  agree  not  to  be  the  same  with 
the  external  objects  of  sense.     Ideas  are  real  existences ;  for 
they  have  properties,  and  represent  very  different  things :  but 
nothing  can  have  no  property.1     How,  then,  do  they  enter  into 

1  [Cudworth  uses  the  same  argument  cause  whatever  is,  is  singular.    For  though 

lor  the  reality  of  ideas.     "  It  ia  a.  ridicu-  whatever  exists  without  the  mind  be  r-in- 

lous  conceit  of  a  modern  atheistic  writer,  gular,  yet  it  is  plain  that  there  are  con 

that  universal  are  nothing  else  but  named,  ceptions  in  our  minds  objectively  univer- 

uttributed  to  many  singular  bodies,  be-  sal.     \Vhichuniversalobjectsofourmiud, 


CHAP,  m  MYSTICISM  OF  MALEBRAXCHE.  95 

the  mind,  or  become  present  to  it  ?  Ts  it,  as  the  Aristotelians 
hold,  by  means  of  species  transmitted  from  the  external  ob- 
jects ?  Or  are  they  produced  instantaneously  by  some  faculty 
of  the  soul  ?  Or  have  they  been  created  and  posited  as  it 
were  in  the  soul,  when  it  began  to  exist  ?  Or  does  God  pro- 
duce them  in  us  whenever  we  think  or  perceive  ?  Or  does 
the  soul  contain  in  herself,  in  some  transcendental  manner, 
whatever  is  in  the  sensible  world  ?  These  hypotheses  of  elder 
philosophers,  some  of  which  are  not  quite  intelligibly  distinct 
from  each  other,  Malebranche  having  successfully  refuted, 
comes  to  what  he  considers  the  only  possible  alternative ; 
namely,  that  the  soul  is  united  to  an  all-perfect  Being,  in 
whom  all  that  belongs  to  his  creatures  is  contained.  Besides 
the  exclusion  of  every  other  supposition  which  he  conceives 
himself  to  have  given,  he  subjoins  several  direct  arguments  in 
favor  of  his  own  theory,  but  in  general  so  obscure  and  full  of 
arbitrary  assumption  that  they  cannot  be  stated  in  this  brief 
sketch.1 

55.  The  mysticism  of  this  eminent  man  displays  itself 
throughout  this  part  of  his  treatise,  but  rarely  leading  him 
into  that  figurative  and  unmeaning  language  from  which  the 
inferior  class  of  enthusiasts  are  never  free.  His  philosophy, 
which  has  hitherto  appeared  so  sceptical,  assumes  now  the 
character  of  intense,  irresistible  conviction.  The  scepticism 
of  Malebranche  is  merely  ancillary  to  his  mysticism.  His 
philosophy,  if  we  may  use  so  quaint  a  description  of  it,  is 
subjectivity  leading  objectivity  in  chains.  He  seems  to  tri- 
umph in  his  restoration  of  the  inner  man  to  his  pristine 
greatness,  by  subduing  those  false  traitors  and  rebels,  the 
nerves  and  brain,  to  whom,  since  the  great  lapse  of  Adam. 
his  posterity  had  been  in  thrall.  It  has  been  justly  remarked 
by  Brown,  that  in  the  writings  of  Malebranche,  as  in  all 
theological  metaphysicians  of  the  Catholic  Church,  we  per- 
ceive the  commanding  influence  of  Augustin.2  From  him, 

though  they  exist  not  as  such  anywhere  paradoxical,  in  expression  at  least,  as  any 

without  it,  yet  are  they  not  therefore  no-  thing  in  Malebranche. 

thing,  but  have  an  intelligible  entity,  for  [Brown  meant  to  guard  against  the  no- 

this  very  reason,  because  they  are  coneeiv-  tion   of  Berkeley  and  Malebranche,  that 

able ;    for,   since    nonentity    is   not  con-  ideas    are   any   how   separable   from    the 

eeivable.  whatever  is  conceivable  as  an  ob-  mind,  or  capable  of  being  considered  aa 

ject  of  the  mind  is  therefore  something." —  real  beings.     But  he  did  not  sufficiently 

Intellectual  System,  p.  731.  — 1842.]  distinguish  between  the  percipient  and  the 

1  L.  iii.  c.  6.  perception,  or  what  SI.  de  Remusat  has 

1  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  Lee-  called.  U  moi  observe  par  If  inoi.     As  for 

tnre  xxx.     Brown's  own   position,   that  the  word  "  modification,'  which  we  owe  to 

'  the  idea  it  the  mind,''  seems  to  me  as  Malebranche,  though  it  Joes  not  well  ex 


96          MALEBRANCHE'S  DISSENT  FROM  AUGUSTDT.  PART  IV. 

rather  than,  in  the  first  instance,  from  Plato  or  Plotinus, 
it  may  be  suspected  that  Malebranche,  who  was  not  very 
learned  in  ancient  philosophy,  derived  the  manifest  tinge  of 
Platonism,  that,  mingling  with  his  warm  admiration  of  Des- 
cartes, has  rendered  him  a  link  between  two  famous  systems, 
not  very  harmonious  in  their  spirit  and  turn  of  reasoning. 
But  his  genius,  more  clear,  or  at  least  disciplined  in  a  more 
accurate  logic,  than  that  of  Augustin,  taught  him  to  dissent 
from  that  father  by  denying  objective  reality  to  eternal  truths, 
such  as  that  two  and  two  are  equal  to  four ;  descending  thus 
one  step  from  unintelligible  mysticism. 

56.  "Let  us  repose,"  he  concludes,  "in  this  tenet,  that 
God  is  the  intelligible  world,  or  the  place  of  spirits,  like  as 
the  material  world  is  the  place  of  bodies ;   that  it  is  from 
his  power  they  receive   all   their   modifications ;   that   it   is 
in  his  wisdom  they  find  all  their  ideas ;  and  that  it  is  by  his 
love  they  feel  all  their  well-regulated  emotions.     And,  since 
his  power  and  his  wisdom  and  his  love  are  but  himself,  let 
us  believe  with  St.  Paul,  that  he  is  not  far  from  each  of 
us,  and  that  in  him  we  live  and  move,  and  have  our  being." 
But  sometimes  Malebranche  does  not  content  himself  with 
these  fine  effusions  of  piety.     His  theism,  as  has  often  been 
the  case  with  mystical  writers,  expands  till  it  becomes,  as  it 
were,  dark  with  excessive  light,  and  almost  vanishes  in  its 
own  effulgence.     He  has  passages  that  approach  very  closely 
to  the  pantheism  of  Jordano  Bruno  and  Spinosa ;  one  espe- 
cially, wherein  he  vindicates  the  Cartesian  argument  for  a 
being  of  necessary  existence  in  a  strain  which  perhaps  ren- 
ders that  argument  less  incomprehensible,  but  certainly  cannot 
be  said,  in  any  legitimate  sense,  to  establish  the  existence 
of  a  Deity.1 

57.  It  is  from  the  effect  which  the  invention  of  so  origina 
and  striking  an  hypothesis,  and  one  that  raises  such  magni 
ficent  conceptions  of  the  union  between  the  Deity  and  the 

press  his  own  theory  of  independent  ideas,  ceive  more  than   that,  from  not  having 

I  cannot  help  agreeing  with  Locke  :  "What  such  a  perception,  my  mind  is  coine  to 

service  does  that  word  do  us  in  one  case  or  have  such  a  perception?     Which  is  what 

the  other,  when  it  is  only  a  new  word  I  as  well  knew  before  the  word  *  modifica- 

brought  in  without  any  new  conception  at  tion '  was  made  use  of,  which,  by  its  use, 

all  ?    For  my  mind,  when  it  sees  a  color  has  made  me  conceive  nothing  more  than 

or  figure,  is  altered,  I  know,  from  the  not  what  I  conceived  before."  —  Examination 

having  such  or  such  a  perception  to  the  of  Malebranche's  theory,  in  Locke's  works, 

having  it;   but  when,  to  explain  this,  I  vol.  iii.  p.  427,  ed.  1719  — 1847.] 

am  told,  that  either  of  these  perceptions  is  l  L.  iii.  c.  8 
a  modification  of  the  mind,  what  do  1  con- 


CHAP.  m.  HIS  CONTEMPT  FOR  ARISTOTLE.  97 

human  soul,  would  produce  on  a  man  of  an  elevated  and 
contemplative  genius,  that  we  must  account  for  Halebranche's 
forgetfulness  of  much  that  he  has  judiciously  said  in  part  of 
his  treatise,  on  the  limitation  of  our  faculties  and  the  imper- 
fect knowledge  we  can  attain  as  to  our  intellectual  nature. 
For,  if  we  should  admit  that  ideas  are  substances,  and  not 
accidents  of  the  thinking  spirit,  it  would  still  be  doubtful 
whether  he  has  wholly  enumerated,  or  conclusively  refuted, 
the  possible  hypotheses  as  to  their  existence  in  the  mind. 
And  his  more  direct  reasonings  labor  under  the  same  diffi- 
culty from  the  manifest  incapacity  of  our  understandings  to 
do  more  than  form  conjectures  and  dim  notions  of  what  we 
can  so  imperfectly  bring  before  them. 

58.  The  fourth  and  fifth  books  of  the  Recherche  de  la 
Verite  treat  of  the  natural  inclinations  and  passions,  and  of 
the  errors  which  spring  from  those  sources.  These  books  are 
various  and  discursive,  and  very  characteristic  of  the  author's 
mind ;  abounding  with  a  mystical  theology,  which  extends  to 
an  absolute  negation  of  secondary  causes,  as  well  as  with 
poignant  satire  on  the  follies  of  mankind.  In  every  part  of 
his  treatise,  but  especially  in  these  books,  Malebranche  pur- 
sues with  unsparing  ridicule  two  classes,  the  men  of  learning, 
and  the  men  of  the  world.  "With  Aristotle  and  the  whole 
school  of  his  disciples  he  has  an  inveterate  quarrel,  and  omits 
no  occasion  of  holding  them  forth  to  contempt.  This  seems 
to  have  been  in  a  great  measure  warranted  by  their  dog- 
matism, their  bigotry,  their  pertinacious  resistance  to  modern 
science,  especially  to  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  which  Male- 
branche in  general  followed.  "  Let  them,"  he  exclaims, 
u  prove,  if  they  can,  that  Aristotle,  or  any  of  themselves,  has 
deduced  one  truth  in  physical  philosophy  from  any  principle 
peculiar  to  himself,  and  we  will  promise  never  to  speak  of 
him  but  in  eulogy." 1  But,  until  this  gauntlet  should  be  "taken 
up,  he  thought  himself  at  liberty  to  use  very  different  lan- 
guage. "  The  works  of  the  Stagirite,"  he  observes,  "  are  so 
obscure  and  full  of  indefinite  words,  that  we  have  a  color 
for  ascribing  to  him  the  most  opposite  opinions.  In  fact,  we 
make  him  say  what  we  please,  because  he  says  very  little, 
though  with  much  parade ;  just  as  children  fancy  bells  to  say 
any  thing,  because  they  make  a  great  noise,  and  in  reality 
say  nothing  at  all." 

1  L.  i?.  o.  b. 


'    98  HIS  OPINION  OF  LEARNED  MEN.  PAET  IV 

59.  But  such  philosophers  are  not  the  only  class  of  the 
learned  he  depreciates.  Those  who  pass  their  time  in  gazing 
through  telescopes,  and  distribute  provinces  in  the  moon  to 
their  friends;  those  who  pore  over  worthless  books,  such  as  the 
Eabbinical  and  other  Oriental  writers,  or  compose  folio  volumes 
on  the  animals  mentioned  in  Scripture,  wliile  they  can  hardly 
tell  what  are  found  in  their  own  province ;  those  who  accumu- 
late quotations  to  inform  us  not  of  truth,  but  of  what  other  men 
have  taken  for  truth,  —  are  exposed  to  his  sharp,  but  doubt- 
less exaggerated  and  unreasonable,  ridicule.  Malebranche, 
like  many  men  of  genius,  was  much  too  intolerant  of  what 
might  give  pleasure  to  other  men,  and  too  narrow  in  his  mea- 
sure of  utility.  He  seems  to  think  little  valuable  in  human 
learning  but  metaphysics  and  algebra.1  From  the  learned  he 
passes  to  the  great,  and,  after  enumerating  the  circumstances 
which  obstruct  their  perception  of  truth,  comes  to  the  blunt 
conclusion,  that  men  "  much  raised  above  the  rest  by  rank, 
dignity,  or  wealth,  or  whose  minds  are  occupied  in  gaining 
these  advantages,  are  remarkably  subject  to  error,  and  hardly 
capable  of  discerning  any  truths  which  lie  a  little  out  of  the 
common  way."2 

60.  The  sixth  and  last  book  announces  a  method  of  direct- 
ing our  pursuit  of  truth,  by  which  we  may  avoid  -the  many 
errors  to  which  our  understandings  are  liable.  It  promises  to 
give  them  all  the  perfection  of  which  our  nature  is  capable, 
by  prescribing  the  rules  we  should  invariably  observe.  But 
it  must,  I  think,  be  confessed  that  there  is  less  originality  in 
this  method  than  we  might  expect.  We  find,  however,  many 
acute  and  useful,  if  not  always  novel,  observations  on  the  con- 
duct of  the  understanding ;  and  it  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
books  which  would  supply  materials  for  what  is  still  wanting 
to  philosophical  literature,  an  ample  and  useful  logic.  AVe 

1  It  is    rather    amusing  to  find,  that,  "  La  plupart  de  livres  de  certains  s«v;ms 
•while  lamenting  the  want  of  a  review  of  ne  eont  fabriques  qu'a  coups  de  diction- 
books,  he  predicts  that  we  shall  never  see  naires,  et  ila  n'ont  gueres  In  que  les  taMc* 
one,  on  account  of  the  prejudice  of  man-  des  livres  qu'ils  citent,  ou  quelques  Ueux 
kind  in  favor  of  authors.    The  prophecy  communs,  rarnasses  de  differcns  auteurs. 
was  falsified  almost  at  the  time.     "  On  re-  On  n'oseroit  entrer    d'avantage   dans  le 
garde  ordinairoment  lea  auteurs  comme  detail  de  ces  choses,   ni  en   donner   des 
des   homines   rares  et  extraordinaires,  et  exemples,   de  peur  de  chequer  des   per- 
beaucoiip  61ev6s  au-dessus  des  autres  :  on  sonues  aussi  fieres  et  aussi  bilieuses  que 
leg  revere  done  au   lieu  de  les  mepriser  sont  ces  faux  savans  ;  car  on  ne  prend  pal 
et  de  les  punir.    Ainsi  il   n'y  a   gueres  plaisir  a  se  feire  injurier  en  Urec  et  en 
d'apparence  que  les  hommes   erigent  ja-  Arabe  " 
niiiis  un  tribunal  pour  examiner  et  pour  2  C.  9. 
condamner  tous   les  livres,   qui  ne  font 
que  oorrouipre  la  rruoii."  —  C.  8. 


CHAP.  III.  CHARACTER  OF  MALEBRAXCHE.  99 

are  so  frequently  inattentive,  he  observes,  especially  to  the 
pure  ideas  of  the  understanding,  that  all  resources  should  be 
employed  to  fix  our  thoughts.  And  for  this  purpose  we  may 
make  use  of  the  passions,  the  senses,  or  the  imagination ;  but 
the  second  with  less  danger  than  the  first,  and  the  third  than 
the  second.  Geometrical  figures  he  ranges  under  the  aids 
supplied  to  the  imagination  rather  than  to  the  senses.  He 
dwells  much  at  length  on  the  utility  of  geometry  in  fixing 
our  attention,  and  of  algebra  in  compressing  and  arranging  our 
thoughts.  All  sciences,  he  well  remarks  (and  I  do  not  know 
that  it  had  been  said  before),  which  treat  of  things  distin- 
guishable by  more  or  less  in  quantity,  and  which  consequently 
may  be  represented  by  extension,  are  capable  of  illustration 
by  diagrams.  But  these,  he  conceives,  are  inapplicable  to 
moral  truths,  though  sure  consequences  may  be  derived  from 
them.  Algebra,  however,  is  far  more  useful  in  improving  the 
understanding  than  geometry,  and  is  in  fact,  with  its  sister 
arithmetic,  the  best  means  that  we  possess.1  But,  as  men  like 
better  to  exercise  the  imagination  than  the  pure  intellect, 
geometry  is  the  more  favorite  study  of  the  two. 

61.  Malebranche  may,  perhaps,  be  thought  to  have  occu- 
pied too  much  of  our  attention  at  the  expense  of    cb^^^f 
more  popular  writers.     But  for  this  very  reason,  that  of  Maie- 
the  Recherche  de  la  Verite  is  not  at  present  much  b 
read,  I  have  dwelt  long  on  a  treatise  of  so  great  celebrity  in 
its  own  age,  and  which,  even  more  perhaps  than  the  meta- 
physical writings  of  Descartes,  has  influenced  that  department 
of  philosophy.     Malebranche  never  loses  sight  of  the  great 
principle  of  the  soul's  immateriality,  even  in  his   long   and 
rather  hypothetical  disquisitions  on  the  instrumentality  of  the 

1  L.  vi.  c.4.  All  conceptions  of  abstract  Cudworth  has  a  somewhat  similar  re- 
ideas,  he  justly  remarks  iu  another  place,  mark  in  his  Immutable  Morality,  that  the 
are  accompanied  with  some  imagination,  cogitations  we  have  of  corporeal  things 
though  we  are  often  not  aware  of  it ;  be-  are  usually,  in  his  technical  style,  both 
cause  these  ideas  hare  no  natural  images  noematical  and  phantasmatical  together; 
or  traces  associated  with  them,  but  such  the  one  being  as  it  were  the  soul,  and  the 
only  as  the  will  of  man  or  chance  has  other  the  body  of  them.  "  Whenever  we 
given.  Thus,  in  analysis,  however  general  think  of  a  phantasmatical  universal  or 
the  ideas,  we  use  letters  and  signs  always  universalized  phantaem,  or  a  thing  which 
associated  with  the  ideas  of  the  things,  we  have  no  clear  intellection  of  (as,  for 
though  they  are  not  really  related,  and  example,  of  the  nature  of  a  rose  in  general), 
'or  this  reason  do  not  give  us  false  and  con-  there  is  a  complication  of  something  noe- 
(\isej  notions.  Hence,  he  thinks,  the  ideas  matical  and  something  phantiismatical  to- 
of  things  which  can  only  be  perceived  by  gether :  for  phantasms  themselves  as  well 
the  understanding  may  become  associated  sensations  are  always  individual  things/' 
with  the  traces  on  the  brain,  1.  T.  c.  2.  p.  143.  —  [See  also  the  quotation  from 
This  is  evidently  as  applicable  to  language  Qassendi,  supra,  §  15.  — 1342.] 
•s  it  is  to  algebra. 


100  COMPARED  WITH  PASCAL.  PART  IV. 

brain  in  acts  of  thought;  and  his  language  is  far  less  objec- 
tionable on  this  subject  than  that  of  succeeding  philosophers. 
He  is  always  consistent  and  clear  in  distinguishing  the  soul 
itself  from  its  modifications  and  properties.  He  knew  well 
and  had  deeply  considered  the  application  of  mathematical 
and  physical  science  to  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind. 
He  is  very  copious  and  diligent  in  illustration,  and  very  clear 
in  definition.  His  principal  errors,  and  the  sources  of  them  in 
his  peculiar  temperament,  have  appeared  in  the  course  of 
these  pages.  And  to  these  we  may  add  his  maintaining  some 
Cartesian  paradoxes,  such  as  the  system  of  vortices,  and  the 
want  of  sensation  in  brutes.  The  latter  he  deduced  from  the 
immateriality  of  a  thinking  principle,  supposing  it  incredible ; 
though  he  owns  it  had  been  the  tenet  of  Augustin,  that  there 
could  be  an  immaterial  spirit  in  the  lower  animals,  and  also 
from  the  incompatibility  of  any  unmerited  suffering  with  the 
justice  of  God.1  Nor  was  Malebranche  exempt  from  some 
prejudices  of  scholastic  theology;  and,  though  he  generally 
took  care  to  avoid  its  technical  language,  is  content  to  repel 
the  objection  to  his  denial  of  all  secondary  causation  from  its 
making  God  the  sole  author  of  sin,  by  saying  that  sin,  being 
a  privation  of  righteousness,  is  negative,  and  consequently 
requires  no  cause. 

62.  Malebranche  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  his  great 
Compared  contemporary  Pascal,  though  they  were  not,  I  be- 
with  Pascal.  jjeve,  in  any  personal  relation  to  each  other ;  nor 
could  either  have  availed  himself  of  the  other's  writings. 
Both  of  ardent  minds,  endowed  with  strong  imagination  and 
lively  wit,  sarcastic,  severe,  fearless,  disdainful  of  popular 
opinion  and  accredited  reputations;  both  imbued  with  the 
notion  of  a  vast  difference  between  the  original  and  actual 
state  of  man,  and  thus  solving  many  phenomena  of  his  being ; 
both,  in  different  modes  and  degrees,  sceptical,  and  rigorous 
in  the  exaction  of  proof;  both  undervaluing  all  human  know- 
ledge beyond  the  regions  of  mathematics ;  both  of  rigid  strict- 
ness in  morals,  and  a  fervid  enthusiastic  piety.  But  in  Male- 
branche there  is  a  less  overpowering  sense  of  religion ;  his 
eye  roams  unblenched  in  the  light,  before  which  that  of  Pas- 
cal had  been  veiled  in  awe ;  he  is  sustained  by  a  less  timid 

1  This  he  had  borrowed  from  a  maxim  whence,  It  seems,  that  father  had  inferred 
of  Augustin:  "Sub  juato  Deo  quisquam  the  imputation  of  original  sin  to  infanta;  a 
uisi  mereatur,  miser  ease  non  potest  j"  happy  mode  of  escaping  the  difficulty. 


CHAP.  m.  AENAULD—  NORRIS.  101 

desire  of  truth,  by  greater  confidence  in  the  inspirations  that 
are  breathed  into  his  mind;  he  is  more  quick  in  adopting  a 
novel  opinion,  but  less  apt  to  embrace  a  sophism  in  defence 
of  an  old  one ;  he  has  less  energy,  but  more  copiousness  and 
rariety. 

63.  Arnauld,  who,  though  at  first   in   personal  friendship 
with  Malebranche,  held  no  friendship  in  a  balance  Arnauld  on 
with  his  steady  love  of  truth,  combated  the  chief  true  and 
points  of  the  other's  theory  in  a  treatise  on  True  and 

False  Ideas.  This  work  I  have  never  had  the  good  fortune 
to  see  :  it  appears  to  assail  a  leading  principle  of  Malebranche, 
the  separate  existence  of  ideas,  as  objects  in  the  mind,  inde- 
pendent and  distinguishable  from  the  sensation  itself.  Ar- 
nauld maintained,  as  Reid  and  others  have  since  done,  that 
we  do  not  perceive  or  feel  ideas,  but  real  objects,  and  thus  led 
the  way  to  a  school  which  has  been  called  that  of  Scotland, 
and  has  had  a  great  popularity  among  our  later  metaphysi- 
cians. It  would  require  a  critical  examination  of  his  work, 
which  I  have  not  been  able  to  make,  to  determine  precisely 
what  were  the  opinions  of  this  philosopKer.1 

64.  The  peculiar  hypothesis  of  Malebranche,  that  we  see 
all  things  in  God,  was  examined  by  Locke  in  a  short  piece, 
contained  in  the  collection  of  his  works.     It  will  readily  be 
conceived,  that  two  philosophers,  one  eminently  mystical,  and 
endeavoring  upon  this  highly  transcendental  theme  to  grasp 
in  his  mind  and  express  in  his  language  something  beyond  the 
faculties  of  man,  the  other  as  characteristically  averse  to  mys- 
tery, and  slow  to  admit  any  thing  without  proof,  would  have 
hardly   any    common   ground   even   to   fight   upon.     Locke, 
therefore,  does  little  else  than  complain  that  he  cannot  under- 
stand what   Malebranche   has   advanced ;    and   most   of  his 
readers  will  probably  find  themselves  in  the  same  position. 

65.  He  had,  however,  an  English  supporter  of  some  cele- 
brity in  his  own  age,  Norris ;   a  disciple,  and   one          . 

of  the  latest  we  have  had,  of  the  Platonic  school  of  • 
Henry  More.     The  principal  metaphysical  treatise  of  Norris, 
his  Essay  on  the  Ideal  World,  was  published  in  two  parts, 

1  Brucker ;  Buhle ;   Reid's  Intellectual  mitted  them  as  modifications  of  the  mind, 

Powers.    [But  see  what  Sir  W.  Hamilton  and  supposed,  like  Descartes   and  most 

has  said  in  Edinb.  ReT..  vol.  lii..  and  in  others,  that  perception  of  external  object* 

his  edition  of  Reid.  p.  296  et  alibi.    Though  is   representation,  and   not   intuition  — 

Arnauld  denied  the  separate  existence  of  1847-] 
ideas,  as  held  by  Malebranche,  he   ad- 


102  THOUGHTS  OF  PASCAL.  PART  IV. 

1701  and  1702.  It  does  not,  therefore,  come  within  our  limits. 
Norris  is  more  thoroughly  Platonic  than  Malebranche,  to 
whom,  however,  he  pays  great  deference,  and  adopts  his 
fundamental  hypothesis  of  seeing  all  things  in  God.  He  is  a 
writer  of  fine  genius  and  a  noble  elevation  of  moral  senti- 
ments, such  as  predisposes  men  for  the  Platonic  schemes  of 
theosophy.  He  looked  up  to  Augustin  with  as  much  venera- 
tion as  to  Plato,  and  respected,  more  perhaps  than  Male- 
branche, certainly  more  than  the  generality  of  English  writers, 
the  theological  metaphysicians  of  the  schools.  With  these  he 
mingled  some  visions  of  a  later  mysticism.  But  his  reason- 
ings will  seldom  bear  a  close  scrutiny. 

66.  In  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  we  find  many  striking 
remarks  on  the  logic  of  that  science  with  which  he 
was  peculiarly  conversant,  and  upon  the  general 
foundations  of  certainty.  He  had  reflected  deeply  upon  the 
sceptical  objections  to  all  human  reasoning ;  and  though  some- 
times, out  of  a  desire  to  elevate  religious  faith  at  its  expense, 
he  seems  to  consider  them  unanswerable,  he  was  too  clear- 
headed to  believe  them  just.  "Reason,"  he  says,  "confounds 
the  dogmatists;  and  nature,  the  sceptics."1  "We  have  an 
incapacity  of  demonstration,  which  the  one  cannot  overcome : 
we  have  a  conception  of  truth,  which  the  others  cannot 
disturb."2  He  throws  out  a  notion  of  a  more  complete 
method  of  reasoning  than  that  of  geometry,  wherein  every 
thing  shall  be  demonstrated,  which,  however,  he  holds  to  be 
unattainable  ;3  and  perhaps  on  this  account  he  might  think 
the  cavils  of  Pyrrhonism  invincible  by  pure  reason.  But  as 
he  afterwards  admits  tliat  we  may  have  a  full  certainty  of 
propositions  that  cannot  be  demonstrated,  such  as  the  infinity 
of  number  and  space,  and  that  such  incapability  of  direct 
proof  is  rather  a  perfection  than  a  defect,  this  notion  of  a 
greater  completeness  in  evidence  seems  neither  clear  nor 
consistent.4 

67.  Geometry,  Pascal  observes,  is  almost  the  only  subject 
as  to  which  we  find  truths  wherein  all  men  agree.  And  one 
cause  of  this  is,  that  geometers  alone  regard  the  true  laws  of 
demonstration.  These,  as  enumerated  by  him,  are  eight  in 
number :  1.  To  define  nothing  which  cannot  be  expressed  in 

i  CEuvres  de  Pascal,  vol.  i.  p.  205.  bles  de  demonstration  n'  est  pas  leur  ob- 

*  P.  208.  scurite,  maia  au  contraire  leur  extreme 

*  Ponsees  de  Pascal,  part  i.  art.  2.  Evidence,  ce  manque  de  preuve  n'est  pag 

la  cause  <jui  les  rend  incapa-    on  defaut,  mais  plutot  uuo  perfection." 


CHAP.  in.  GENIUS  OF  PASCAL.  103 

clearer  terms  than  those  in  which  it  is  already  expressed ; 
2.  To  leave  no  obscure  or  equivocal  terms  undefined ;  3.  To 
employ  in  the  definition  no  terms  not  already  known ;  4. 
To  omit  nothing  in  the  principles  from  which  we  argue,  unless 
we  are  sure  it  is  granted ;  5.  To  lay  down  no  axiom  which  is 
not  perfectly  evident ;  6.  To  demonstrate  nothing  which  is  as 
clear  already  as  we  can  make  it ;  7.  To  prove  every  thing  in 
the  least  doubtful,  by  means  of  self-evident  axioms,  or  of 
propositions  already  demonstrated ;  8.  To  substitute  mentally 
the  definition  instead  of  the  thing  defined.  Of  these  rules, 
he  says,  the  first,  fourth,  and  sixth  are  not  absolutely  necessa- 
ry in  order  to  avoid  error ;  but  the  other  five  are  indispensable. 
Yet,  though  they  may  be  found  in  books  of  logic,  none  but 
the  geometers  have  paid  any  regard  to  them.  The  authors 
of  these  books  seem  not  to  have  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
their  own  precepts.  All  other  rules  than  those  he  has  given 
are  useless  or  mischievous :  they  contain,  he  says,  the  whole 
art  of  demonstration.1 

68.  The  reverence  of  Pascal,  like  that  of  Malebranche,  for 
what  is  established  in  religion,  does  not  extend  to  philosophy. 
We  do  not  find  in  them,  as  we  may  sometimes  perceive  in  the 
present  day,  all  sorts  of  prejudices  against  the  liberties  of 
the  human  mind  clustering  together  like  a  herd  of  bats,  by  an 
instinctive  association.     He  has  the  same  idea  as  Bacon,  that 
the    ancients    were   properly  the   children   among   mankind. 
Not  only  each  man,  he  says,  advances  daily  in  science,  but  all 
men  collectively  make  a  constant  progress ;  so  that  all  genera- 
tions of  mankind  during  so  many  ages  may  be  considered  as 
one  man,  always  subsisting  and  always  learning ;  and  the  old 
age  of  this  universal  man  is  not  to  be  sought  in  the  period 
next  to  his  birth,  but  in  that  which  is  most  removed  from  it. 
Those  we  call  ancients  were  truly  novices  in  all  things ;  and 
we,  who  have  added  to  all  they  knew  the  experience  of  so 
many  succeeding  ages,  have  a  better  claim  to  that  antiquity 
which  we  revere  in  them.     In  this,  with  much  ingenuity  and 
much  truth, -the re  is  a  certain  mixture  of  fallacy,  which  I  shall 
not  wait  to  point  out. 

69.  The  genius  of  Pascal  was  admirably  fitted  for  acute 
observation  on  the  constitution  of  human  nature,  if  he  had  not 
seen  every  thing  through  a  refracting  medium   of  religious 
prejudice.    When  this  does  not  interfere  to  bias  his  judgment, 

1  (Euvres  ile  Pascal,  i.  66. 


104  SPINOSA'S  ETHICS.  PART  IV 

he  abounds  with  fine  remarks,  though  always  a  little  tending 
towards  severity.  One  of  the  most  useful  and  original  is  the 
following:  "When  we  would  show  any  one  that  he  is  mis- 
taken, our  best  course  is  to  observe  on  what  side  he  considers 
the  subject,  for  his  view  of  it  is  generally  right  on  this  side, 
and  admit  to  him  that  he  is  right  so  far.  He  will  be  satisfied 
with  this  acknowledgment  that  he  was  not  wrong  in  liis  judg- 
ment, but  only  inadvertent  in  not  looking  at  the  whole  of  the 
case.  For  we  are  less  ashamed  of  not  having  seen  the  whole, 
than  of  being  deceived  in  what  we  do  see ;  and  this  may 
perhaps  arise  from  an  impossibility  of  the  understanding's 
being  deceived  in  what  it  does  see,  just  as  the  perceptions  of 
the  senses,  as  such,  must  be  always  true."1 

70.  The  Cartesian  philosophy  has  been  supposed  to  have 
Spinosa's     produced  a  metaphysician  very  divergent  in  most  of 
Ethics.        j^g  theory  from  that  school, — Benedict  Spinosa.    No 
treatise  is  written  in  a  more  rigidly  geometrical  method  than 
his  Ethics.     It  rests  on  definitions  and  axioms,  from  which 
the  propositions  are  derived  in  close,  brief,  and  usually  per- 
spicuous demonstrations.    The  few  explanations  he  has  thought 
necessary  are  contained  in  scholia.     Thus  a  fabric  is  erected, 
astonishing  and  bewildering  in  its  entire  effect,  yet  so  regu- 
larly constructed,  that  the  reader  must  pause  and  return  on 
his  steps  to  discover  an  error  in  the  workmanship,  while  he 
cannot  also  but  acknowledge  the  good  faith  and  intimate  per- 
suasion of  having  attained  the  truth,  which  the  acute  and 
deep-reflecting  author  everywhere  displays. 

71.  Spinosa  was  born  in  1632:   we  find  by  his  correspond- 
its  general   ence  with  Oldenburg,  in  1661,  that  he  had  already 
originality,  developed  his  entire  scheme ;  and,  in  that  with   De 
Vries,  in  1663,  the  propositions  of  the  Ethics  are  alluded  to 
numerically,  as  we  now  read  them.2     It  was,  therefore,  the 
fruit  of  early  meditation,  as  its  fearlessness,  its  general  disre- 
gard of  the  slow  process  of  observation,  its  unhesitating  dog 
matism,  might  lead  us  to  expect.      In  what  degree  he  had 
availed  himself  of  prior  writers  is  not  evident;    with   Des- 
cartes and  Lord  Bacon  he  was  familiar,  and  from  the  former 
he  had  derived  some  leading  tenets ;  but  he  observes,  both  in 
him  and  Bacon,  what  he  calls  mistakes  as  to  the  first  cause 

1  (Euvres  de  Pascal,  p.  149.     Though    trary  asserted  in  other  passages :  he  is  not 
Pascal  here  says  that  the  perceptions  of     uniformly  consistent  with  himself, 
the  senses  are  always  true,  we  find  the  con-       *  Spinoase  Opera  Posthuma,  p.  398,  460 


CHAP.  HI.     VIEW   OF  HIS  METAPHYSICAL   THEORY.  105 

and  origin  of  things,  their  ignorance  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
human  mind,  and  of  the  true  sources  of  error.1  The  panthe- 
istic theory  of  Jordano  Bruno  is  not  very  remote  from  that 
of  Spinosa;  but  the  rhapsodies  of  the  Italian,  who  seldom 
aims  at  proof,  can  hardly  have  supplied  much  to  the  subtle 
mind  of  the  Jew  of  Amsterdam.  Buhle  has  given  us  an 
exposition  of  the  Spinosistic  theory.2  But  several  proposi- 
tions in  this,  I  do  not  find  in  the  author;  and  Buhle  has  at 
least,  without  any  necessity,  entirely  deviated  from  the  arrange- 
ment he  found  in  the  Ethics.  This  seems  as  unreasonable  in 
a  work  so  rigorously  systematic,  as  it  would  be  in  the  ele- 
ments of  Euclid ;  and  I  believe  the  following  pages  will  prove 
more  faithful  to  the  text.  But  it  is  no  easy  task  to  translate 
and  abridge  a  writer  of  such  extraordinary  conciseness  as  well 
as  subtlety;  nor  is  it  probable  that  my  attempt  will  be  intelli 
gible  to  those  who  have  not  habituated  themselves  to  meta- 
physical inquiry. 

72.  The  first  book  or  part  of  the  Ethics  is  entitled  Con- 
cerning God,  and  contains  the  entire  theory  of  Spi-  Yjeir  of  y, 
nosa.  It  may  even  be  said  that  this  is  found  in  a  metaphysi 
few  of  the  first  propositions ;  which  being  granted,  K 
the  rest  could  not  easily  be  denied ;  presenting,  as  they  do, 
little  more  than  new  aspects  of  the  former,  or  evident  deduc- 
tions from  them.  Upon  eight  definitions  and  seven  axioms 
reposes  this  philosophical  superstructure.  A  substance,  by 
the  third  definition,  is  that,  the  conception  of  which  does  not 
require  the  conception  of  any  thing  else  as  antecedent  to  it8 
The  attribute  of  a  substance  is  whatever  the  mind  perceive3 
to  constitute  its  essence.4  The  mode  of  a  substance  is  its 
accident  or  affection,  by  means  of  which  it  is  conceived.5  In 
the  sixth  definition,  he  says,  I  understand  by  the  name  of  God 
a  being  absolutely  infinite ;  that  is,  a  substance  consisting  of 
'infinite  attributes,  each  of  which  expresses  an  eternal  and 
infinite  essence.  Whatever  expresses  an  essence,  and  involves 
no  contradiction,  may  be  predicated  of  an  absolutely  infinite 

1  "  Cartes  et  Bacon  tam  longfe  a  cogni-  rius  rei.  a  quo  formari  debeat."    The  last 

tione  primae  causae  et  originis  omnium  words  are  omitted  by  Spinosa  in  a  letter 

rerum  aberrarunt.  .  .  .  Veram  naturam  to  De  Tries  (p.  463),  where  he  repeats  thii 

humanae  mentis  non  cognoverant  .   .  .  definition. 

veram  causam  erroria  nunquam  operati  *  ''  Per  attributum  intelligo  id  quod  in- 
eunt."  tellectus  de  substantial  percipit,  tanquam 
1  Hist,  de  la  Philosophic,  TO!,  iii.  p.  440.  ejusdem  essentiam  constituens." 
*  "  Per  substantiani  intelligo  id  quod  in  s  ''  Per  modum  intelligo  substantiae  al- 
ec est.  et  per  se  eoncipitur :  hoc  est,  id  en-  fectiones.  srve  id.  quod  in  alio  est,  per 
jus  concept  us  non  indiget  conceptu  alte-  quod  etiam  concipitur.  ' 


106  SPINOSA'S  ASSUMPTIONS.  PAET  IV. 

being.1  The  most  important  of  the  axioms  are  tLe  following : 
From  a  given  determinate  cause  the  effect  necessarily  follows ; 
but,  if  there  be  no  determinate  cause,  no  effect  can  follow.  — 
The  knowledge  of  an  effect  depends  upon  the  knowledge  of 
the  cause,  and  includes  it.  —  Things  that  have,  nothing  in 
common  with  each  other  cannot  be  understood  by  means 
of  each  other ;  that  is,  the  conception  of  one  does  not  include 
that  of  the  other.  —  A  true  idea  must  agree  with  its  object.2 

73.  Spinosa  proceeds  to  his  demonstrations  upon  the  basis 
of  these  assumptions  alone.    Two  substances,  having  different 
attributes,  have  nothing  in  common  with  each  other;   and 
hence  one  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the  other,  since  one  may  be 
conceived  without  involving  the  conception  of  the  other ;  but 
an  effect  cannot  be  conceived  without  involving  the  knowledge 
of  the  cause.3     It  seems  to  be  in  this  fourth  axiom,  and  in 
the  proposition  grounded  upon  it,  that  the  fundamental  fallacy 
lurks.      The  relation  between  a  cause  and  effect  is  surely 
something  different  from  our  perfect  comprehension  of  it,  or 
indeed  from  our    having  any  knowledge  of  it  at  all :    much 
less  can  the  contrary  assertion  be  deemed  axiomatic.     But,  if 
we  should  concede  this  postulate,  it  might  perhaps  be  very 
difficult  to  resist  the  subsequent  proofs,  so  ingeniously  and 
with  such  geometrical  rigor  are  they  arranged. 

74.  Two  or  more  things  cannot  be  distinguished,  except  by 
the  diversity  of  their  attributes,  or  by  that  of  their  modes ; 
for  there  is  nothing  out  of  ourselves  except  substances  and 
their  modes.     But  there   cannot  be  two  substances  of  the 
same  attribute,  since  there  would  be  no  means  of  distinguish- 
ing them  except  their  modes  or  affections  ;   and  every  sub- 
stance, being  prior  in  order  of  time  to  its  modes,  may  be 
considered  independently  of  them  :  hence  two  such  substances 
could  not  be  distinguished  at  ah".     One  substance,  therefore, 
cannot  be  the  cause  of  another ;  for  they  cannot  have  the  same 
attribute,  that  is,  any  thing  in  common  with  one  another.4 
Every  substance,  therefore,  is  self-caused  ;  that  is,  its  e.ssence 
implies  its  existence.5     It  is  also  necessarily  infinite,  for  it 

1  "  Per  Deum  Intelligo  Ens  absolute  in-  inflnitum  est,  ad  ejus  essentiam  pertinct, 

finitum,  hoc  est,  substantiam  constantem  quicquid  essentiam  exprimit  et  negatio- 

Infinitis  attributis,  quorum  unumquodque  nem  nullam  involvit." 

eeternam  et  infinitam  essentiam  exprimit.  2  Axiomata,  Hi.,  iv.,  v.,  and  vi. 

Dice  absolute  infinitum,  non  autem  in  suo  •  Prop.  ii.  and  ill 

genere ;  quicquid  enim  in  BUO  genere  tan-  *  Prop.  vi. 

turn  infinitum  est,  infinita  de  eo  attribute  s  Prop.  yjj. 
oegare  possumus ;   quod  autem  absolute 


CHAP.  EH.  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD.  107 

would  otherwise  be  terminated  by  some  other  of  the  same 
nature  and  necessarily  existing ;  but  two  substances  cannot 
have  the  same  attribute,  and  therefore  cannot  both  pos- 
sess necessary  existence.1  The  more  reality  or  existence 
any  being  possesses,  the  more  attributes  are  to  be  ascribed 
to  it.  This,  he  says,  appears  by  the  definition  of  an  at- 
tribute.2 The  proof,  however,  is  surely  not  manifest ;  nor  do 
we  clearly  apprehend  what  he  meant  by  degrees  of  reality  or 
existence.  But  of  this  theorem  he  was  very  proud.  I  look 
upon  the  demonstration,  he  says  in  a  letter,  as  capital  (pal- 
tnariam),  that  the  more  attributes  we  ascribe  to  any  being, 
the  more  we  are  compelled  to  acknowledge  its  existence ;  that 
is,  the  more  we  conceive  it  as  true,  and  not  a  mere  chimera.3 
And  from  this  he  derived  the  real  existence  of  God,  though 
the  former  proof  seems  collateral  to  it.  God,  or  a  substance 
consisting  of  infinite  attributes,  each  expressing  an  eternal 
and  infinite  power,  necessarily  exists.4  For  such  an  essence 
involves  existence.  And,  besides  this,  if  any  thing  does  not 
exist,  a  cause  must  be  given  for  its  non-existence ;  since  this 
requires  one  as  much  as  existence  itself.5  The  cause  may 
be  either  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  as  e.gr.  a  square  circle 
cannot  exist  by  the  circle's  nature,  or  in  something  extrin- 
sic. But  neither  of  these  can  prevent  the  existence  of  God. 
The  later  propositions  in  Spinosa  are  chiefly  obvious  cor 
ollaries  from  the  definitions  and  a  few  of  the  first  proposi- 
tions which  contain  the  whole  theory,  which  he  proceeds  te 
expand. 

75.  There  can  be  no  substance  but  God.  Whatever  is,  is 
in  God;  and  nothing  can  be  conceived  without  God.6  For  he 
is  the  sole  substance  ;  and  modes  cannot  be  conceived  without 
a  substance  ;  but,  besides  substance  and  mode,  nothing  exists. 
God  is  not  corporeal ;  but  body  is  a  mode  of  God,  and  there- 
fore uncreated.  God  is  the  permanent,  but  not  the  transient, 
cause  of  all  things.7  He  is  the  efficient  cause  of  their  essence 
as  well  as  their  existence,  since  otherwise  their  essence  might 
be  conceived  without  God,  which  has  been  shown  to  be 
absurd.  Thus  particular  things  are  but  the  affections  of 

1  Prop.  viii.          •  this  precise  number,  since  the  definition 

*  Prop.  ix.  of  a  man  does  not  involve  it.    Prop.  viiL 
»  P.  4<33.    This  is  in  the  letter  to  De    Schol.  ii. 

Vries,  above  quoted.  8  Prop.  xiy. 

*  Prop.  xi.  '  "  Deus  est  omnium  rernm  causa  tm- 
5  If  twenty  men  exist,  neither  more  nor    manens,  aed  non  transiens." — Prop,  zviii. 

lees,  an  extrinsic  reason  must  be  given  for 


108  FINAL  CAUSES.  PART  IV. 

God's  attributes,  or  modes  in  which  they  are  determinately 
expressed.1 

76.  This  pantheistic  scheme  is  the  fruitful  mother  of  many- 
paradoxes,  upon  which  Spinosa  proceeds  to  dwell.     There  is 
no  contingency,  but  every  thing  is  determined  by  the  necessity 
of  the  divine  nature,  both  as  to  its  existence  and  operation ; 
nor  could  any  thing  be  produced  by  God  otherwise  than  as  it 
is.2     His  power  is  the  same  as  his  essence ;    for  he  is  the 
necessary  cause  both  of  himself  and  of  all  things,  and  it  is  as 
impossible  for  us  to  conceive  him  not  to  act  as  not  to  exist.' 
God,  considered  in  the  attributes  of  his  infinite  substance,  is 
the  same  as  nature,  that  is,  natura  naturans ;  but  nature,  in 
another  sense,  or  natura  naturata,  expresses  but  the  modes 
under  which  the  divine  attributes  appear.4     And  intelligence, 
considered  in  act,  even  though  infinite,  should  be  referred  to 
natura  naturata  ;  for  intelligence,  in  this  sense,  is  but  a  mode 
of  thinking,  which  can  only  be  conceived  by  means  of  our 
conception  of  thinking  in  the  abstract,  that  is,  by  an  attribute 
of  God.5     The  faculty  of  thinking,  as  distinguished  from  the 
act,  as  also  those  of  desiring,  loving,  and  the  rest,  Spinosa 
explicitly  denies  to  exist  at  ah1. 

77.  In  an  appendix  to  the  first  chapter,  De  Deo,  Spinosa 
controverts  what  he  calls  the  prejudice  about  final  causes. 
Men  are  born  ignorant  of  causes,  but  merely  conscious  of 
their  own  appetites,  by  which  they  desire  their  own  good. 
Hence  they  only  care  for  the  final  cause  of  their  own  actions 
or  those  of  others,  and  inquire  no  farther  when  they  are  satis- 
fied about  these.     And  finding  many  things  in  themselves  and 
in  nature,  serving  as  means  to  a  certain  good,  which  things 
they  know  not  to   be   provided  by  themselves,  they  have 
believed  that  some  one  has  provided  them  ;  arguing  from  the 
analogy  of  the  means  which  they  in  other  instances  them- 
selves employ.     Hence  they  have  imagined  gods  ;   and  these 
gods  they  suppose  to  consult  the  good  of  men  in  order  to  be 
worshipped  by  them,  and  have  devised  every  mode  of  super- 
stitious devotion  to  insure  the  favor  of  these  divinities.     And, 
finding  in  the  midst  of  so  many  beneficial  things  in  nature  not 
a  few  of  an  opposite  effect,  they  have  ascribed  them  to  the 
anger  of  the  gods  on  account  of  the  neglect  of  men  to  wor- 

1  Prop.  XXT.  and  CorolL  *  Schol.  in  prop.  xxix. 

1  Prop,  xxix.-xxxiii.  8  Prop.  xxxi.     The  atheism  of  Spinoea 

8  Prop,  xxxix.,  and  part  ii.   prop.  iii.    Is  manifest  from  this  single  proposition. 
Schol. 


CHAP.  III.  INFINITE  INTELLIGENCE.  109 

ship  them :  nor  has  experience  of  calamities  falling  alike  on 
the  pioTis  and  impious  cured  them  of  this  belief;  choosing 
rather  to  ackowledge  their  ignorance  of  the  reason  why  good 
and  evil  are  thus  distributed,  than  to  give  up  their  theory. 
Spinosa  thinks  the  hypothesis  of  final  causes  refuted  by  his 
proposition,  that  all  things  happen  by  eternal  necessity.  More- 
over, if  God  were  to  act  for  an  end,  he  must  desire  something 
which  he  wants ;  for  it  is  acknowledged  by  theologians,  that 
he  acts  for  his  own  sake,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  things 
created. 

78.  Men,  having  satisfied  themselves  that  all  things  were 
created  for  them,  have  invented  names  to  distinguish  that  as 
good  which  tends  to  their  benefit ;   and,  believing  themselves 
free,  have  gotten  the  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  praise  and 
dispraise.      And,  when  they  can  easily  apprehend  and  recol- 
lect the  relations  of  things,  they  call  them  well  ordered ;  if 
not,  ill  ordered ;  and  then  say  that  God  created  all  things  in 
order,  as  if  order  were  any  thing  except  in  regard  to  our 
imagination  of  it :   and  thus  they  ascribe  imagination  to  God 
himself,  unless  they  mean  that  he  created  things  for  the  sake 
of  our  imagining  them. 

79.  It  has  been  sometimes  doubted  whether  the  Spinosistic 
philosophy  excludes  altogether  an  infinite  intelligence.     That 
it  rejects  a  moral  providence  or  creative  mind  is  manifest  in 
every  proposition.      His  Deity  could  at  most  be  but  a  cold 
passive  intelligence,  lost  to  our  understandings  and  feelings  in 
its  metaphysical  infinity.      It  was  not,  however,  in  fact  so 
much  as  this.     It  is  true,  that  in  a  few  passages  we  find  what 
seems  at  first  a  dim  recognition  of  the  fundamental  principle 
of  theism.     In  one  of  his  letters  to  Oldenburg,  he  asserts  an 
infinite  power  of  thinking,  which,  considered  in  its  infinity, 
embraces  all  nature  as  its  object,  and  of  which  the  thoughts 
proceed  according  to  the  order  of  nature ;  being  its  correlative 
ideas.1    But  afterwards  he  rejected  the  term,  "  power  of  think- 
ing," altogether.      The  first  proposition  of  the  second  part  of 
the  Ethics,  or  that  entitled  On  the  Mind,  runs  thus :  Thought 

1  "  Statuo  dari  in  naturil  potentiam  infl-  factionem  et  mentis  tranqnillitatem,  cnnc- 

nitam  cogitandi  quse  quatenus  infinite  in  se  ta  potentia  Ends  summe  perfecti  et  ejus 

continet  totam  naturam  objective,  etcujus  immutabili   ita  fieri   decreto." — p.  498. 

cogitationes  prooedunt  eodem  modo  ac  na-  What  follows  is  in  the  same  strain.    But 

tura,  ejus  nimiruin  edictum."  —  p.  441.  Spinosa    had  wrought    himself  up,   like 

In  another  place  he  says,  perhaps  at  some  Bruno,  to  a  mystical  personification  of  hii 

expense  of  his  usual  oantlor,  "  Agnosco  in-  infinite  unity, 
terim,  id  quod  summam  mihi  proebet  satis- 


110  DEFINITIONS  AND  AXIOMS.  PART  IV. 

is  an  attribute  of  God  ;  or,  God  is  a  thinking  being.  Yet  this, 
when  we  look  at  the  demonstration,  vanishes  in  an  abstrac- 
tion destructive  of  personality.1  And  in  fact  we  cannot  reflect 
at  all  on  the  propositions  already  laid  down  by  Spinosa,  with- 
out perceiving  that  they  annihilate  every  possible  hypoti 
in  which  the  being  of  a  God  can  be  intelligibly  stated. 

80.  The  second  book  of  the  Ethics  begins,  like  the  first, 
with  definitions  and  axioms.      Body  he  defines  to  be  a  cer- 
tain and  determinate  mode  expressing  the  essence  of  God, 
considered  as  extended.     The  essence  of  any  thing  he  defines 
to  be  that,  according  to  the  affirmation  or  negation  of  which 
the  thing  exists  or  otherwise.     An  idea  is  a  conception  which 
the  mind  forms  as  a  thinking  being.     And  he  would  rather 
say  conception  than  perception,  because  the  latter  seems  to 
imply  the  presence  of  an  object.    In  the  third  axiom  he  says : 
Modes  of  thinking,  such  as  love,  desire,  or  whatever  name  we 
may  give  to  the  affections  of  the  mind,  cannot  exist  without 
an  idea  of  their  object ;  but  an  idea  may  exist  with  no  other 
mode  of  thinking.2     And  in  the  fifth  :  We  perceive  no  singu- 
lar things  besides  bodies  and  modes  of  thinking;   thus  dis- 
tinguishing, like  Locke,  between  ideas  of  sensation  and  of 
reflection. 

81.  Extension,  by  the  second  proposition,  is  an  attribute  of 
God  as  well  as  thought.    As  it  follows  from  the  infinite  exten- 
sion of  God,  that  all  bodies  are  portions  of  his  substance, 
inasmuch  as  they  cannot  be  conceived  without  it ;   so  all  par- 
ticular acts  of  intelligence  are  portions  of  God's  infinite  intel- 
ligence, and   thus   an   things   are   in   him.      Man   is   not  a 
substance,  but  something  which  is  in  God,  and  cannot  be  con- 
ceived without  him;    that  is,  an  affection  or  mode  of  the 
divine  substance  expressing  its  nature  in  a  determinate  man- 
ner.3    The  human  mind  is  not  a  substance ;  but  an  idea  con- 
stitutes its  actual  being,  and  it  must  be  the  idea  of  an  existing 
thing.4     In  this  he  plainly  loses  sight  of  the  percipient  in  the 

1  "  Singulares  cpgitationes,  sive  hsec  et  Tel  quocunque  nomine  affectus  animi  in- 

ilia  cogitatio,  modi  Bunt,  qui  Dei  naturam  eigniuntur,  non  dantur    nisi    in    eodcm 

eerto  et  determinate    modo    exprimunt.  individuo  detur  idea  rei  aniatoe,  tic 

Competit  ergo  Dei  attributum,  cujus  con-  rate,  &c.     At  idea  dart  potest,  quiuuris 

ceptum  singulares  omnes  cogitationes  in-  nullus  ivlius  detur  cogitandi  modus." 

volvunt,   per   quod  etiam   concipiuntur.  8  Prop.  x. 

Est  igitur  cogitatio  unum  ex  infinitis  Dei  4  "  Quod  actuale  mentis  humanse  esse 

attributis  quod  Dei  aeternam  et  inflnitam  constituit,  nihil  aliud  est  quani  idea  roi 

essentiam  expriinit,  sive  Deus  est  res  cogi-  alieujus  singularis  actu  existentis."    Thia 

tans."  is    an    anticipation  of  what  we  find    in 

»  "  Modi  cogitandi,  ut  amor,  cupiditas,  Hume'e  Treatise  on  Human  Nature,  th« 


CHAP.  in.  OBJECT  OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND.  Ill 

perception ;  but  it  was  the  inevitable  result  of  the  fundamental 
sophisms  of  Spinosa  to  annihilate  personal  consciousness. 
The  human  mind,  he  afterwards  asserts,  is  part  of  the  infinite 
intellect  of  God ;  and  when  we  say,  the  mind  perceives  this  or 
that,  it  is  only  that  God,  not  as  infinite,  but  so  far  as  he  con- 
stitutes the  essence  of  the  human  mind,  has  such  or  such  ideas.1 

82.  The  object  of  the  human  mind  is  body  actually  exist- 
ing.2    He  proceeds  to  explain  the  connection  of  the  human 
body  with  the  mind,  and  the  association  of  ideas.     But  in  all 
this,  advancing  always  synthetically  and   by  demonstration, 
he  becomes  frequently  obscure,  if  not  sophistical.      The  idea 
of  the  human  mind  is  in  God,  and  is  united  to  the  mind  itself 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  latter  is  to  the  body.3     The  obscu- 
rity and  subtilty  of  this  proposition  are  not  relieved  by  the 
demonstration ;  but  in  some  of  these  passages  we  may  observe 
a    singular    approximation   to   the    theory   of   Malebranche. 
Both,  though  with  very  different  tenets  on  the  highest  sub- 
jects, had  been  trained  in  the  same  school ;    and,  if  Spinosa 
had  brought  himself   to  acknowledge   the   personal  distinct- 
ness of  the  Supreme  Being  from  his  intelligent  creation,  he 
might  have  passed  for  one  of  those  mystical  theosophists  who 
were  not  averse  to  an  objective  pantheism. 

83.  The  mind  does  not  know  itself,  except  so  far-  as  it 
receives  ideas  of  the  affections  of  the  body.4     But  these  ideas 
of  sensation  do  not  give  an  adequate  knowledge  of  an  exter- 
nal body,  nor  of  the  human  body  itself. 5    The  mind,  therefore, 
has  but  an  inadequate  and  confused  knowledge  of  any  thing, 
so  long  as  it  judges  only  by  fortuitous  perceptions ;   but  may 
attain  one  clear  and  distinct  by  internal  reflection  and  com- 
parison.6    No  positive  idea  can  be  called  false ;   for  there  can 
be  no  such  idea  without  God,  and  all  ideas  in  God  are  true, 
that  is,  correspond  with  their  object.7     Falsity,  therefore,  con- 
sists in  that  privation  of  truth  which  arises  from  inadequate 
ideas.     An  adequate  idea  he  has  defined  to  be  one  which  con- 
tains no  incompatibility,  without  regard  to  the  reality  of  its 
supposed  correlative  object. 

negation  of  a  substance,  or  Ego,  to  which  tur,  ac  idea  sive  cognitio  corporis  huma- 

paradox  no  one  can  come  except  a  pro-  ni."  —  Prop.  xx.    "  Ilaec   mentis  idea  eo- 

fessed  metaphysician.  dem  modo  unita  est  menti,  ac  ipsa  men* 

1  Prop,  xi.j  coroll.  unita  est  corpori." 

3  Prop.  xiii.  4  Prop,  xxiii. 

8  "Mentis  human*  datur  etiam  in  Deo  B  Prop.  xxv. 

idea,  sive  cognitio,  quje  in  Deo  eodem  modo  6  Schol  ,  prop,  xxix 

seQuitur,  et  ad  Deuui  eodem  modo  refer-  1  Prop  xxxii.,  xxxiii.,  xxxv. 


112  UNIVERSAL  IDEAS.  PAKT  IV. 

84.  All  bodies  agree  in  some  things,  or  have  something  in 
common:   of  these  all  men  have  adequate  ideas;1   and  this 
is  the  origin  of  what  are  called  common  notions,  which  all 
men  possess ;  as  extension,  duration,  number.    But,  to  explain 
the  nature  of  universals,  Spinosa  observes,  that  the  human 
body  can  only  form  at  the  same  time  a  certain  number  of  dis- 
tinct images :  if  this  number  be  exceeded,  they  become  con- 
fused;   and  as  the  mind  perceives  distinctly  just  so  many 
images  as  can  be  formed  in  the  body,  when  these  are  confused 
the  mind  will  also  perceive  them  confusedly,  and  will  com- 
prehend them  under  one  attribute,  as  Man,  Horse,  Dog ;   the 
mind  perceiving  a  number  of  such  images,  but  not  their  dif- 
ferences of  stature,  colors,  and  the  like.     And  these  notions 
will  not  be  alike  in  all  minds,  varying  according  to  the  fre- 
quency with   which  the  parts  of  the   complex   image   have 
occurred.    Thus  those  who  have  contemplated  most  frequently 
the  erect  figure  of  man  will  think  of  him  as  a  perpendicular 
animal,  others  as  two-legged,  others  as  unfeathered,  others 
as  rational.      Hence  so  many  disputes    among   philosophers 
who  have  tried  to  explain  natural  things  by  mere  images.2 

85.  Thus  we  form  universal  ideas,  first  by  singulars,  repre- 
sented by  the  senses  confusedly,  imperfectly,  and  disorderly  ; 
secondly,  by  signs,  that  is,  by  associating  the  remembrance 
of  things  with  words,  —  both  of  which   he  calls  imagination, 
or  primi  generis  cognitio  ;  thirdly,  by  what  he  calls  reason,  or 
secundi  generis  cognitio  ;    and,   fourthly,  by  intuitive  know- 
ledge, or  tertii  generis  cognitio.3      Knowledge   of  the   first 
kind,  or  imagination,  is  the  only  source  of  error ;   the  second 
and  third  being  necessarily  true.4     These  alone  enable  us  to 
distinguish  truth  from  falsehood.    Reason  contemplates  things, 
not  as  contingent,  but  necessary ;   and  whoever  has  a  true 
idea  knows  certainly  that  his  idea  is  true.      Every  idea  of  a 
singular  existing  thing  involves  the  eternal  and  infinite  being 
of  God.    For  nothing  can  be  conceived  without  God ;  and  the 
ideas  of  all  things,  having  God  for  their  cause,  considered 
under  the  attribute  of  which  they  are  modes,  must  involve 
the  conception  of  the  attribute,  that  is,  the  being  of  God.5 

86.  It  is  highly  necessary  to  distinguish  images,  ideas,  and 
words,  which  many  confound.     Those  who  think  ideas  consist 

1  Prop.  Till.  *  Prop,  xli.,  xlii.,  et  sequent. 

*  Schol.  prop.  xl.  8  Prop.  xly. 

>  Schol.,  11.,  prop.  xL 


«HAP.  111.  IMAGES,  roEAS,  WOKDS.  113 

• 

in  images  which  they  perceive,  fancy  that  ideas  of  which  we 
can  form  no  image  are  but  arbitrary  figments.  They  look  at 
ideas  as  pictures  on  a  tablet,  and  hence  do  not  understand 
that  an  idea,  as  such,  involves  an  affirmation  or  negation. 
And  those  who  confound  words  with  ideas,  fancy  they  can 
will  something  contrary  to  what  they  perceive,  because  they 
can  affirm  or  deny  it  in  words.  But  these  prejudices  will  be 
laid  aside  by  him  who  reflects  that  thought  does  not  involve 
the  conception  of  extension ;  and  therefore  that  an  idea, 
being  a  mode  of  thought,  neither  consists  in  images  nor  in 
words,  the  essence  of  which  consists  in  corporeal  motions,  not 
involving  the  conception  of  thought.1 

87.  The  human  mind  has  an  adequate  knowledge  of  the 
eternal  and  infinite  being  of  God.     But  men  cannot  imagine 
God  as  they  can  bodies,  and  hence  have  not  that  clear  per- 
ception of  his  being  which  they  have  of  that  of  bodies,  and 
have  also  perplexed  themselves  by  associating  the  word  God 
with  sensible  images,  which  it  is  hard  to  avoid.     This  is  the 
chief  source   of  all  error,  that  men  do  not  apply  names  to 
things  rightly.     For  they  do  not  err  in  their  own  minds,  but 
in  this  application ;  as  men  who  cast  up  wrong  see  different 
numbers  in  their  minds  from  those  in  the  true  result.2 

88.  The  mind  has  no  free-will,  but  is  determined  by  a 
cause,  which  itself  is  determined  by  some  other,  and  so  for 
ever.     For  the  mind  is  but  a  mode  of  thinking,  and  therefore 
cannot  be  the  free  cause  of  its  own  actions.     Nor  has  it  any 
absolute   faculty   of   loving,   desiring,   understanding;    these 
being  only  metaphysical  abstractions.3     Will  and  understand- 
ing are  one  and  the  same  thing;    and   volitions   are   only 
affirmations  or  negations,  each  of  which  belongs  to  the  essence 
of  the  idea  affirmed  or  denied.4     In  this  there  seems  to  be 
not  only  an  extraordinary  deviation  from  common  language, 
but  an  absence  of  any  meaning  which,  to  my  apprehension  at 
least,  is  capable  of  being  given  to  his  words.     Yet  we  have 
seen  something  of  the  same  kind  said  by  Malebranche ;  and 
it  will  also  be  found  in  a  recently  published  work  of  Cud- 
worth,5  a  writer  certainly  uninfluenced  by  either  of  these,  so 
that  it  may  be  suspected  of  having  some  older  authority. 

1  Schol.,  prop.  xlix.  3  Prop,  xlviii. 

2  Prop,  xlvii.     "  Atque  hinc  pleraoque        4  Prop.  xlix. 

criuntur  controversiae,   nempe,  quia  ho-  5  See  Cudworth's  Treatise  on  Free-will 

mines  mentem  suam  non  recte  explicant,  (1838),  p.  20,  where  the  will  and  under- 

vcl  quia  alterius  mentem  male  interpre-  standing  are  purposely,  and,  I  think,  very 

tantur."  erroneous  1.)  confounded,. 

VOL.   IV.  8 


114  THEORY  OF  ACTION  AND  PASSION.         PART  IV 

• 

89.  In  the  third  part  of  this  treatise,  Spinosa  comes  to  the 

consideration  of  the  passions.  Most  who  have  writ- 
theoryaof  ten  on  moral  subjects,  he  says,  have  rather  treated 
action  and  man  ag  something  out  of  nature,  or  as  a  kind  of 

passion.  3     .         ,  ..    ,  , 

impenum  in  impeno,  than  as  part  91  the  general 
order.  They  have  conceived  him  to  enjoy  a  power  of  dis- 
turbing that  order  by  his  own  determination,  and  ascribed  his 
weakness  and  inconstancy,  not  to  the  necessary  laws  of  the 
system,  but  to  some  strange  defect  in  himself,  which  they 
cease  not  to  lament,  deride,  or  execrate.  But  the  acts  of 
mankind,  and  the  passions  from  which  they  proceed,  are  in 
reality  but  links  in  the  series,  and  proceed  in  harmony  with 
the  common  laws  of  universal  nature. 

90.  We  are  said  to  act  when  any  thing  takes  place  within 
us,  or  without  us,  for  which  we  are  an  adequate  cause ;   that 
is,  when  it  may  be  explained  by  means  of  our  own  nature 
alone.     We  are  said  to  be  acted  upon,  when  any  thing  takes 
place  within  us  which  cannot  wholly  be  explained  by  our  own 
nature.     The  affections  of  the  body  which  increase  or  dimi- 
nish its  power  of  action,  and  the  ideas  of  those  affections,  he 
denominates  passions  (affectus).     Neither  the  body  can  deter- 
mine the  mind  to  thinking,  nor  can  the  mind  determine  the 
body  to  motion  or  rest.     For  all  that  takes  place  in  body 
must  be  caused  by  God,  considered  under  his  attribute  of 
extension ;  and  all  that  takes  place  in  mind  must  be  caused  by 
God,  under  his  attribute  of  thinking.     The  mind  and  body 
are  but  one  thing,  considered  under  different  attributes ;    the 
order  of  action  and  passion  in  the  body  being  the  same  in 
nature  with  that  of  action  and  passion  in  the  mind.      But 
men,  though  ignorant  how  far  the  natural  powers  of  the  .body 
reach,  ascribe  its  operations  to  the  determination  of  the  mind; 
veiling  their  ignorance  in  specious  words.     For,  if  they  allege 
that  the  body  cannot  act  without  the  mind,  it  may  be  an- 
Bwered,  that  the  mind  cannot  think  till  it  is  impelled  by  the 
body ;  nor  are  the  volitions  of  the  mind  any  thing  else  than 
its  appetites,  which  are  modified  by  the  body. 

91.  All  things  endeavor  to  continue  in  their  actual  being; 
this   endeavor   being  nothing  else  than  their  essence,  which 
causes  them  to  be,  until  some  exterior  cause  destroys  their 
being.    The  mind  is  conscious  of  its  own  endeavor  to  continue 
as  it  is,  which  is,  in  other  words,  the  appetite  that  seeks  self- 
preservation  :  what  the  mind  is  thus  conscious  of  seeking,  it 


CHAP.  HI.  CHARACTER  OF  SPDxOSISM.  115 

judges  to  be  good,  and  not  inversely.  Many  things  increase 
or  diminish  the  power  of  action  in  the  body ;  and  all  such 
things  have  a  corresponding  effect  on  the  power  of  thinking 
in  the  mind.  Thus  it  undergoes  many  changes,  and  passes 
through  different  stages  of  more  or  less  perfect  power  of 
thinking.  Joy  is  the  name  of  a  passion,  in  which  the  mind 
passes  to  a  greater  perfection  or  power  of  thinking ;  grief,  one 
in  which  it  passes  to  a  less.  Spinosa,  in  the  rest  of  this  book, 
deduces  all  the  passions  from  these  two  and  from  desire  ;  but 
as  the  development  of  his  theory  is  rather  long,  and  we  have 
already  seen  that  its  basis  is  not  quite  intelligible,  it  will  be 
unnecessary  to  dwell  longer  upon  the  subject.  His  analysis 
of  the  passions  may  be  compared  with  that  of  Hobbes. 

92.  Such  is  the  metaphysical  theory  of  Spinosa,  in  as  con- 
cise a  form  as  I  have  found  myself  able  to  derive  it  character  of 
from  his  Ethics.  It  is  a  remarkable  proof,  and  his  Spinosiam. 
moral  system  will  furnish  another,  how  an  undeviating  adhe- 
rence*to  strict  reasoning  may  lead  a  man  of  great  acuteness 
and  sincerity  from  the  paths  of  truth.  Spinosa  was  truly 
what  Voltaire  has,  with  rather  less  justice,  called  Garke,  — 
a  reasoning  machine.  A  few  leading  theorems,  too  hastily 
taken  up  as  axiomatic,  were  sufficient  to  make  him  sacrifice, 
with  no  compromise  or  hesitation,  not  only  every  principle  of 
religion  and  moral  right,  but  the  clear  intuitive  notions  of  com- 
mon sense.  If  there  are  two  axioms  more  indisputable  than 
any  others,  they  are,  that  ourselves  exist ;  and  that  our  exist- 
ence, simply  considered,  is  independent  of  any  other  being. 
Yet  both  these  are  lost  in  the  pantheism  of  Spinosa,  as  they 
had  always  been  in  that  delusive  revery  of  the  imagination. 
In  asserting  that  the  being  of  the  human  mind  consists  in  the 
idea  of  an  existing  thing  presented  to  it,  this  subtle  metaphy- 
sician fell  into  the  error  of  the  school  which  he  most  dis- 
dained, as  deriving  all  knowledge  from  perception,  that  of  the 
Aristotelians.  And  extending  this  confusion  of  consciousness 
with  perception  to  the  infinite  substance,  or  substratum  of 
particular  ideas,  he  was  led  to  deny  it  the  self,  or  conscious 
personality,  without  which  the  name  of  Deity  can  only  be 
given  in  a  sense  deceptive  of  the  careless  reader,  and  incon- 
sistent with  the  use  of  language.  It  was  an  equally  legitimate 
consequence  of  his  original  sophism  to  deny  all  moral  agency, 
in  the  sense  usually  received,  to  the  human  mind ;  and  even, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  confound  action  and  passion  themselves, 


116  PANTHEISM.  PART  IV. 

in  all  but  name,  as  mere  phenomena  in  the  eternal  sequence 
of  things. 

93.  It  was  one  great  error  of  Spinosa  to  entertain  too 
arrogant  a  notion  of  the  human  faculties,  in  which,  by  dint 
of  his  own  subtle  demonstrations,  he  pretended  to  show   a 
capacity  of  adequately  comprehending  the  nature   of  what 
he  denominated  God.     And  this  was  accompanied  by  a  rigid 
dogmatism,  no  one  proposition  being  stated  with  hesitation ; 
by  a  disregard  of  experience,  at  least  as  the  basis  of  reason- 
ing; and  by  an  uniform  preference  of  the  synthetic  method 
Most  of  those,  he  says,  who  have  turned  their  minds  to  those 
subjects  have  fallen  into  error,  because  they  have  not  begun 
with  tfie  contemplation  of  the  divine  nature,  which,  both  in 
itself  and  in  order  of  knowledge,  is  first,  but  with  sensible 
things,  which  ought  to  have   been   last.      Hence   he  seems 
to  have  reckoned  Bacon,  and   even  Descartes,  mistaken  in 
their  methods. 

94.  All  pantheism  must  have  originated  in  overstraining 
the  infinity  of  the    divine  attributes  till  the  moral  part  of 
religion  was  annihilated  in  its  metaphysics.     It  was  the  cor- 
ruption, or  rather,  if  we  may  venture  the  phrase,  the  suicide 
of  theism  ;   nor  could  this  theory  have  arisen,  except,  where 
we  know  it  did  arise,  among  those  who  had  elevated  their 
conceptions  above  the  vulgar  polytheism  that  surrounded  them 
to  a  sense  of  the  unity  of  the  divine  nature. 

95.  Spinosa  does  not  essentially  differ  from  the  pantheists 
of  old.     He  conceived,  as  they  had  done,  that  the  infinity  of 
God  required  the  exclusion  of  all  other  substance  ;  that  he 
was  infinite  db  omni  parte,  and  not  only  in  certain  senses. 
And  probably  the  loose  and  hyperbolical  tenets  of  the  school- 
men, derived  from  ancient  philosophy,  ascribing,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  a  metaphysical  infinity  to  all  the  divine  attributes, 
might  appear  to  sanction  those  primary  positions,  from  which 
Spinosa,  unfettered  by  religion,  even  in  outward  profession, 
went  on  "  sounding  his  dim  and  perilous  track "  to  the  para- 
doxes that  have  thrown  discredit  on  his  name.     He  had  cer- 
tainly built  much  on  the  notion  that  the  essence  or  definition 
of  the  Deity  involved  his  actuality  or  existence,  to  which  Des- 
cartes had  given  vogue. 

96.  Notwithstanding  the  leading  errors  of  this  philosopher, 
his  clear  and  acute   understanding  perceived  many  things 
which  baffle  ordinary  minds.     Thus  he  well  saw  and  well 


CHAP.  HI.          GLAXTIL'S  SCEPSIS  SCIENTIFICA.  117 

stated  the  immateriality  of  thought.  Oldenburg,  in  one  of 
his  letters,  had  demurred  to  this,  and  reminded  Spinosa  that 
it  was  still  controverted  whether  thought  might  not  be  a 
bodily  motion.  "  Be  it  so,"  replied  the  other,  "  though  I  am 
far  from  admitting  it ;  but  at  least  you  must  allow  that  exten- 
sion, so  far  as  extension,  is  not  the  same  as  thought." l  It  is 
from  inattention  to  this  simple  truth  that  all  materialism,  as  it 
has  been  called,  has  sprung.  Its  advocates  confound  the 
union  between  thinking  and  extension  or  matter  (be  it,  if 
they  will,  an  indissoluble  one)  with  the  identity  of- the  two, 
which  is  absurd  and  inconceivable.  "  Body,"  says  Spinosa, 
in  one  of  his  definitions,  "  is  not  terminated  by  thinking,  nor 
thinking  by  body."2  This,  also,  does  not  ill  express  the  fun- 
damental difference  of  matter  and  mind  :  there  is  an  incom- 
mensurability about  them,  which  prevents  one  from  bounding 
the  other,  because  they  can  never  be  placed  in  juxtaposition. 

97.  England,  about  the  era  of  the  Restoration,  began  to 
make  a  struggle  against  the  metaphysical  creed  of   Qianvii)g 
the  Aristotelians,  as  well  as  against  their  natural   Scepsis 
philosophy.     A  remarkable  work,  but  one  so  scarce 
as  to  be  hardly  known  at  all,  except  by  name,  was  published 
by  Glanvil  in  1661,  with  the  title,  The  Vanity  of  Dogmatiz- 
ing.     A  second  edition,   in    1665,   considerably   altered,   is 
entitled  Scepsis  Scientifica.3     This  edition  has  a  dedication 
to  the  Royal  Society,  which  comes    in    place    of  a  fanciful 
preface,  wherein  he  had  expatiated  on  the  bodily  and  mental 
perfections  of  his  protoplast,  the  father  of  mankind.4     But  in 
proportion  to  the  extravagant  language  he  employs  to  extol 
Adam  before  his  lapse  is  the  depreciation  of  his  unfortunate 

1  "  At  ais,  forte  cogitatio  est  actus  cor-  thy  of  the  Talmud,  he  says,  "  Adam  needed 
poreus.     Sit,  quamvis  nullus  concedam  ;  no  spectacles.    The  acuteness  of  his  nativ- 
Bed  hoc  unum  non  negabis,  extensionem  ral  optics  (if  conjecture  may  have  credit; 
quoad   extensionem,  non   esse   cogitatio-  showed  him  much  of  the  celestial  ma;niifl- 
nem."  —  Epist.  iv.  cence   and   bravery  without    a   Galileo's 

2  "  Corpus  dicitur  finitum.  quia  aliud  tube ;   and  it  is  most  probable  that  his 
Bemper  majus  concipimus.     Sic  cogitatio  naked  eyes  could  reach  near  as  much  of 
alia    cogitatione   terminatur.    At  corpus  this  upper  world  as  we  with  all  the  advan- 
non  terminatur  cogitatione,  nee  cogitatio  tages  of  art.    It  may  be  it  was  as  absurd, 
corpore."  even  in  the  judgment  of  his  senses,  that 

8  This  book,  I  believe,  especially  in  the  the  sun  and  stars  should  be  so  very  much 

second  edition,  is  exceedingly  scarce.  The  less  than  this  globe,  as  the  contrary  seems 

editors,  however,  of  the  Biographia  Bri-  in  ours :  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  he 

tannica,  art.  "  Glanvil,"  had  seen  it,  and  had  as  clear  a  perception  of  the  earth's 

also  Dugald  Stewart.  The  first  edition,  or  motion  as  we  have  of  its  quiescence.''  — 

Vanitv  of  Dogmatizing,  is  in  the  Bodleian  p.  5,  edit.  1661.  In  the  second  edition,  he 

Catalogue;  and  both  are  in  the  British  still  adheres  to  the  hypo'thesis  of  intellect- 

Uuseum.  u;il  degeneracy,  but  states  it  with  less  of 

*  Thus,  among  other  extravagances  wor-  rhapsody. 


118  CONGENITE  APPREHENSIONS.  PART  IV 

posterity,  not,  as  common  among  theologians,  with  respect  to 
their  moral  nature,  but  to  their  reasoning  faculties.  The 
scheme  of  Glanvil's  book  is  to  display  the  ignorance  of 
man,  and  especially  to  censure  the  Peripatetic  philosophy 
of  the  schools.  It  is,  he  says,  captious  and  verbal,  and 
yet  does  not  adhere  itself  to  any  constant  sense  of  words, 
but  huddles  together  insignificant  terms  and  unintelligible 
definitions  :  it  deals  with  controversies,  and  seeks  for  no 
new  discovery  or  physical  truth.  Nothing,  he  says,  can 
be  demonstrated  but  when  the  contrary  is  impossible ;  and 
of  this  there  are  not  many  instances.  He  launches  into  a 
strain  of  what  may  be  called  scepticism ;  but  answered  his 
purpose  in  combating  the  dogmatic  spirit  still  unconquered  in 
our  academical  schools.  Glanvil  had  studied  the  new  philo- 
sophy, and  speaks  with  ardent  eulogy  of  "  that  miracle  of 
men,  the  illustrious  Descartes."  Many,  if  not  most,  of  his 
own  speculations  are  tinged  with  a  Cartesian  coloring.  He 
was,  however,  far  more  sceptical  than  Descartes,  or  even  than 
Malebranche.  Some  passages  from  so  rare  and  so  acute  a 
work  may  deserve  to  be  chosen,  both  for  their  own  sakes  and 
in  order  to  display  the  revolution  which  was  at  work  in  spe- 
culative philosophy. 

98.  "  In  the  unions  which  we  understand,  the  extremes  are 
reconciled  by  interceding  participations  of  natures  which  have 
somewhat  of  either.     But  body  and  spirit  stand  at  such  a 
distance  in  their  essential  compositions,  that  to  suppose  an 
uniter  of  a  middle  construction  that  should  partake  of  some 
of  the  qualities  of  both  is  unwarranted  by  any  of  our  faculties, 
yea,  most  absonous  to  our  reasons  ;  since  there  is  not  any  the 
least  affinity  betwixt  length,  breadth,  and  thickness,  and  ap- 
prehension, judgment,  and  discourse :  the  former  of  which  are 
the  most  immediate  results,  if  not  essentials,  of  matter ;  the 
latter,  of  spirit." l 

99.  "  How  is  it,  and  by  what  art  does  it  (the  soul)  read 
that  such  an  image  or  stroke  in  matter  (whether  that  of  her 
vehicle  or  of  the  brain,  the  case  is  the  same)  signifies  such  an 
object?      Did  we  learn  an  alphabet  in  our  embryo  state? 
And  how  comes  it  to  pass  that  we  are  not  aware  of  any  such 
congenite  apprehensions  ?     We  know  what  we  know  ;  but  do 
we  know  any  more  ?     That  by  diversity  of  motions  we  should 
spell  out  figures,  distances,  magnitudes,  colors,  things  not  re- 

1  Scepsis  Scientifica,  p.  16.    We  have  just  seen  something  similar  in  Spinosa. 


CiiAP.ni.  GLANVIL'S  MENTAL  INTKEPIDITY.  119 

sembled  by  them,  we  must  attribute  to  some  secret  deduction. 
But  what  this  deduction  should  be,  or  by  what  medium  this 
knowledge  is  advanced,  is  as  dark  as  ignorance.  One  that 
hath  not  the  knowledge  of  letters  may  see  the  figures,  but 
comprehends,  not  the  meaning  included  in  them :  an  infant 
may  hear  the  sounds  and  see  the  motion  of  the  lips,  but  hath 
no  conception  conveyed  by  them ;  not  knowing  what  they  are 
intended  to  signify.  So  our  souls,  though  they  might  have 
perceived  the  motions  and  images  themselves  by  simple  sense, 
yet,  without  some  implicit  inference,  it  seems  inconceivable 
how  by  that  means  they  should  apprehend  their  antitypes. 
The  striking  of  divers  filaments  of  the  brain  cannot  well  be 
supposed  to  represent  distances,  except  some  kind  of  inference 
be  allotted  us  in  our  faculties ;  the  concession  of  which  will 
only  stead  us  as  a  refuge  for  ignorance,  when  we  shall  meet 
what  we  would  seem  to  shun." 1  Glanvil,  in  this  forcible 
statement  of  the  heterogeneity  of  sensations  with  the  objects 
that  suggest  them,  has  but  trod  in  the  steps  of  the  whole  Car- 
tesian- school :  but  he  did  not  mix  this  up  with  those  crude 
notions  that  halt  half-way  between  immaterialism  and  its  op- 
posite ;  and  afterwards  well  exposes  the  theories  of  account- 
ing for  the  memory  by  means  of  images  in  the  brain,  which, 
in  various  ways,  Aristotle,  Descartes,  Digby,  Gassendi,  and 
Hobbes  had  propounded,  and  which  we  have  seen  so  favorite 
a  speculation  of  Malebranche. 

100.  It  would  be  easy  to  quote  many  paragraphs  of  un- 
common vivacity  and  acuteness  from  this  forgotten  treatise. 
The  style  is  eminently  spirited  and  eloquent;  a  little  too 
figurative,  like  that  of  Locke,  but  less  blamably,  because 
Glanvil  is  rather  destroying  than  building  up.  Every  bold 
and  original  thought  of  others  finds  a  willing  reception  in  Glan- 
vil's  mind ;  and  his  confident,  impetuous  style  gives  them  an 
air,  of  novelty  which  make  them  pass  for  his  own.  He  stands 
forward  as  a  mutineer  against  authority,  against  educa- 
tional prejudice,  against  reverence  for  antiquity.2  No  one 

1  Pp  22,  23.  noble  Lord  Vernlam  hath  noted,  we  have 

2  "  Now,  if  we  inquire  the  reason  why  a  mistaken    apprehension    of  antiquity, 
the  mathematics  and  mechanic  arts  have  calling  that    so  which   in    truth    is    the 
so  much  got  the  start  in  growth  of  other  world's    nonage.     '  Antiquitas  saeculi  est 
sciences,  we  shall  find  it  probably  resolved  juventusmundi.'    'Twas  this  vain  idolizing 
into  this  as  one  considerable  cause,  that  of  authors  which  gave  birth  to  that  silly 
their  progress  hath  not  been  retarded  by  vanity  of  impertinent  citations,  and  in- 
that  reverential  awe  of  former  discoveries,  ducing  authority   in    things   neither   re- 
which  hath  be«n  so  great  a  himlerance  to  quiring  nor  deserving  it.   -Methinks  it  is 
theoretical    improvements.     1'or,  as   the  a  pitiful  piecw  of  knowledge  that  can  be 


120  GLANVIL'S  PLUS  ULTRA.  PART  IV. 

thinks  more  intrepidly  for  himself;  and  it  is  piobable,  that, 
even  in  what  seems  mere  superstition,  he  had  been  rather 
misled  by  some  paradoxical  hypothesis  of  his  own  ardent  ge- 
nius than  by  slavishly  treading  in  the  steps  of  others.1 

101.  Glanvil  sometimes  quotes  Lord  Bacon;  but  he  seems 
to  have  had  the  ambition  of  contending  with  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum  in  some  of  his  brilliant  passages,  and  has  really  de- 
veloped the  doctrine  of  idols  with  uncommon  penetration,  as 
well  as  force  of  language.    "  Our  initial  age  is  like  the  melted 
wax  to  the  prepared  seal,  capable  of  any  impression  from 

he  documents  of  our  teachers.  The  half-moon  or  cross  are 
indifferent  to  its  reception ;  and  we  may  with  equal  facility 
write  on  this  rasa  tabula  Turk  or  Christian.  To  determine 
this  indifferency,  our  first  task  is  to  learn  the  creed  of  our 
country,  and  our  next  to  maintain  it.  We  seldom  examine 
our  receptions  more  than  children  do  their  catechisms,  but, 
by  a  careless  greediness,  swallow  all  at  a  venture.  For  im- 
plicit faith  is  a  virtue  where  orthodoxy  is  the  object.  Some 
will  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  a  trial ;  others  are  scared-  from 
attempting  it.  If  we  do,  'tis  not  by  a  sunbeam  or  ray  of 
light,  but  by  a  flame  that  is  kindled  by  our  affections,  and 
fed  by  the  fuel  of  our  anticipations.  And  thus,  like  the  her- 
mit, we  think  the  sun  shines  nowhere  but  in  our  cell,  and 
all  the  world  to  be  darkness  but  ourselves.  We  judge  truth 
to  be  circumscribed  by  the  confines  of  our  belief,  and  the  doc- 
trines we  were  brought  up  in."2  Few  books,  I  think,  are 
more  deserving  of  being  reprinted  than  the  Scepsis  Scienti- 
fica  of  Glanvil. 

102.  Another  bold  and  able  attack  was  made  on  the  an- 
HisPius      cient  philosophy  by  Glanvil  in  his  Plus  Ultra,  or 
Ultra.         tbe  Progress  an(j  Advancement  of  Knowledge  since 
the  Days  of  Aristotle,   1668.      His  tone  is  peremptory  and 
imposing,  animated  and  intrepid,  such  as  befits  a  warrior  iu 
literature.     Yet  he  was  rather  acute  by  nature  than  deeply 
versed  in  learning,  and  talks  of  Vieta  and  Descartes'  algebra 

learned  from  an  index,  and  a  poor  am-  probability."  —  p.  146.    He  dwells  more  on 

bitiou  to  be   rich    in  the  inventory  of  this ;   but  the  passage  is  too  long  to  ex- 

another's  treasure.    To  boast  a  memory,  tract.     It  is  remarkable  that  he  supposes 

the  most  that  these  pedants  can  aim  at,  is  a  subtle  ether  (like  that  of  the  modern 

but  a  humble  ostentation."  —  p.  104.  mesmerists)  to  be  the  medium  of  commu- 

_l  That  the  fancy  of  one  man  should  nication  in  such  cases;  and  had  also  a 

bind  the  thoughts  of  another,  and  deter-  notion  of  explaining  these  sympathies  by 

mine  them  to  their  particular  objects,  will  help  of  the  anima  mundi,  or  mundane 

be  thought  impossible ;  which  yet,  if  we  spirit, 
look  deeply  into  the  matter,  wants  not  its       •»  P.  95. 


CHAP.  III.  DALGARNO.  121 

so  as  to  show  he  had  little  knowledge  of  the  science,  or  of 
what  they  had  done  for  it.1  His  animosity  against  Aristotle 
is  unreasonable ;  and  he  was  plainly  an  incompetent  judge 
of  that  philosopher's  general  deserts.  Of  Bacon  and  Boyle 
he  speaks  with  just  eulogy.  Nothing  can  be  more  free  and 
bold  than  Glanvil's  assertion  of  the  privilege  of  judging  for 
himself  in  religion ; 2  and  he  had  doubtless  a  perfect  right  to 
believe  in  witchcraft. 

103.  George  Dalgarno,  a  native  of  Aberdeen,  conceived, 
and,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  carried  into  effect,  the  idea  M 
of  an  universal  language  and  character.  His  Ars 
Signorum,  vulgo  Character  Universalis  et  Lingua  Philoso- 
phica,  Lond.  1661,  is  dedicated  to  Charles  II.,  in  this  phi 
losophical  character,  which  must  have  been  as  great  a  mystery 
to  the  sovereign  as  to  his  subjects.  This  dedication  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  royal  proclamation  in  good  English,  inviting  all  to 
study  this  useful  art,  which  had  been  recommended  by  divers 
learned  men,  Wilkins,  Wallis,  Ward,  and  others,  "judging  it 
to  be  of  singular  use  for  facilitating  the  matter  of  communica- 
tion and  intercourse  between  people  of  different  languages." 
The  scheme  of  Dalgarno  is  fundamentally  bad,  in  that  he 
assumes  himself,  or  the  authors  he  follows,  to  have  given  a 
complete  distribution  of  all  things  and  ideas ;  after  which  his 
language  is  only  an  artificial  scheme  of  symbols.  It  is  evident, 
that,  until  objects  are  truly  classified,  a  representative  method 
of  signs  cau  only  rivet  and  perpetuate  error.  We  have  but 
to  look  at  his  tabular  synopsis  to  see  that  his  ignorance  of 
physics,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the  word,  renders  his  scheme 
deficient ;  and  he  has  also  committed  the  error  of  adopting 
the  combinations  of  the  ordinary  alphabet,  with  a  little  help 
from  the  Greek,  which,  even  with  his  slender  knowledge  of 
species,  soon  leave  him  incapable  of  expressing  them.  But 
Dalgarno  has  several  acute  remarks ;  and  it  deserves  espe- 
cially to  be  observed,  that  he  anticipated  the  famous  discovery 
of  the  Dutch  philologers,  namely,  that  all  other  parts  of 
speech  may  be  reduced  to  the  noun,  dexterously,  if  not  suc- 
cessfully, resolving  the  verb-substantive  into  an  affirmative 
particle.3 

1  Plus  Ultra,  pp.  24  and  33.  esse  particulam  quae  non  deriYetur  a  no- 

2  P.  142.  mine    aliquo    praedicamentali,   et    omnes 
8  "Tandem   mini   affulsit  clarior  lux;     particulas  csse  vere  casus  seu  modos  no- 

aocuratius  enim  exnminando  omnium  no-  tionum  nouiinalium."  —  p.  120.  He  doo 
tionuin  anaiysin  logicaui,  perceui  uullaui  uot  seciu  to  havu  arrived  at  this  conclusion 


122 


LOCKE. 


PART  IV. 


Wilkins 


104.  Wilkins,  Bishop  of  Chester,  one  of  the  most  ingenious 

men  of  his  age,  published  in  1668  his  Essay  towards 
a  Philosophical  Language,  which  has  this  advantage 
over  that  of  Dalgarno,  that  it  abandons  the  alphabet,  and 
consequently  admits  of  a  greater  variety  of  characters.  It  is 
not  a  new  language,  but  a  more  analytical  scheme  of  charac- 
ters for  English.  Dalgarno  seems  to  have  known  something 
of  it,  though  he  was  the  first  to  publish,  and  glances  at  "  a 
more  difficult  way  of  writing  English."  Wilkins  also  inti- 
mates, that  Dalgarno's  compendious  method  would  not  succeed, 
His  own  has  the  same  fault  of  a  premature  classification  of 
things ;  and  it  is  very  fortunate  that  neither  of  these  inge- 
nious but  presumptuous  attempts  to  fasten  down  the  progres- 
sive powers  of  the  human  mind  by  the  cramps  of  association 
had  the  least  success.1 

105.  But,  from  these  partial  and  now  very  obscure  endea- 

vors of  English  writers  in  metaphysical  philosophy, 
we  come  at  length  to  the  work  that  has  eclipsed 
every  other,  and  given  to  such  inquiries  whatever 
popularity  they  ever  possessed, —  the  Essay  of  Locke 
on  the  Human  Understanding.  Neither  the  writings 
of  Descartes,  as  I  conceive,  nor  perhaps  those  of 
Hobbes,  so  far  as  strictly  metaphysical,  had  excited  much  at- 
tention in  England  beyond  the  class  of  merely  studious  men. 
But  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding  was  frequently 
reprinted  within  a  few  years  from  its  publication,  and  became 
the  acknowledged  code  of  English  philosophy.2  The  assaults 
it  had  to  endure  in  the  author's  lifetime,  being  deemed  to  fail, 
were  of  service  to  its  reputation ;  and  considerably  more  than 


Locke  on 

Human 
Under- 
standing. 


Its  merits. 


by  etymological  analysis,  but  by  his  own 
logical  theories. 

The  verb-substantive,  he  says,  is  equiva- 
lent to  ita.  Thus,  ''  Petrus  est  in  domo  " 
means,  "Petrus  —  ita — in  domo;"  that 
is,  it  expresses  an  idea  of  apposition  or  con- 
formity between  a  subject  and  predicate. 
This  is  a  theory  to  which  a  man  might  be 
led  by  the  habit  of  considering  propo- 
sitions logically,  and  thus  reducing  all 
verbs  to  the  verb-substantive;  and  it  is 
not  deficient,  at  least,  in  plausibility. 

1  Dalgarno,  many  years  afterwards, 
turned  his  attention  to  a  subject  of  no 
slight  interest,  even  in  mere  philosophy,  — 
the  instruction  of  the  deaf  and  dumb. 
His  Didascalocophus  is  perhaps  the  first 
attempt  to  found  this  on  the  analysis  of 
language  ;  but  it  is  not  so  philosophical 
DA  what  has  since  been  effected. 


*  It  was  abridged  at  Oxford,  and  used 
by  some  tutors  as  early  as  1695.  But  the 
heads  of  the  university  came  afterwards  to 
a  resolution  to  discourage  the  reading 
of  it.  Stillingfleet,  among  many  others, 
wrote  against  the  Essay  .  and  Locke,  as  is 
well  known,  answered  the  bishop.  I  do 
not  know  that  the  latter  makes  altogether 
so  poor  a  figure  as  has  been  taken  for 
granted;  but  the  defence  of  Locke  will 
seem  in  most  instances  satisfactory.  Its 
success  in  public  opinion  contributed  much 
to  the  renown  of  his  work  :  for  Stilling- 
fleet. though  not  at  all  conspicuous  as 
a  philosopher,  enjoyed  a  great  deal  of 
reputation;  and  the  world  can  seldom 
understand  why  a  man  who  excels  in  one 
province  of  literature  should  fail  in  an- 
other. 


CHAP.  IH.       ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTATING.  123 

half  a  century  was  afterwards  to  elapse  before  any  writer  In 
our  language  (nor  was  the  case  very  different  in  France,  after 
the  patronage  accorded  to  it  by  Voltaire)  could  with  much 
chance  of  success  question  any  leading  doctrine  of  its  author. 
Several  circumstances  no  doubt  conspired  with  its  intrinsic 
excellence  to  establish  so  paramount  a  rule  in  an  age  that 
boasted  of  peculiar  independence  of  thinking,  and  full  of  in- 
telligent and  inquisitive  spirits.  The  sympathy  of  an  English 
public  with  Locke's  tenets  as  to  government  and  religion  was 
among  the  chief  of  these ;  and  the  re-action  that  took  place 
in  a  large  portion  of  the  reading  classes  towards  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century  turned  in  some  measure  the  tide  even 
in  metaphysical  disquisition.  It  then  became  fashionable 
sometimes  to  accuse  Locke  of  preparing  the  way  for  scepti- 
cism ;  a  charge  which,  if  it  had  been  truly  applicable  to  some 
of  his  opinions,  ought  rather  to  have  been  made  against  the 
long  line  of  earlier  writers  with  whom  he  held  them  in  com- 
mon ;  sometimes,  with  more  pretence,  to  allege  that  he  had 
conceded  too  much  to  materialism ;  sometimes  to  point  out  and 
exaggerate  other  faults  and  errors  of  his  Essay,  till  we  have 
seemed  in  danger  of  forgetting  that  it  is  perhaps  the  first,  and 
still  the  most  complete,  chart  of  the  human  mind  which  has 
been  laid  down,  the  most  ample  repertory  of  truths  relating  to 
our  intellectual  being,  and  the  one  book  which  we  are  still 
compelled  to  name  as  the  most  important  in  metaphysical 
science.1  Locke  had  not,  it  may  be  said,  the  luminous  perspi- 
cacity of  language  we  find  in  Descartes,  and,  when  he  does 
not  soar  too  high,  in  Malebranche ;  but  he  had  more  judg- 
ment, more  caution,  more  patience,  more  freedom  from  para- 
dox, and  from  the  sources  of  paradox,  vanity,  and  love  of 
system,  than  either.  We  have  no  denial  of  sensation  to 

1  [The  first  endeavor  completely  to  having  first  gone  painfully  over  the  whole 
analyze  the  operations  of  the  human  un-  ground,  and.  as  far  as  the  merely  intellec- 
derstanding  was  made  by  Hobbes,  in  his  tual  part  of  man  is  concerned,  explained 
Treatise  of  Human  Nature :  for,  import-  in  a  great  degree  the  Tarious  phenomena 
ant  as  are  the  services  of  Descartes  to  of  his  nature  and  the  sources  of  his  know- 
psychology,  he  did  not  attempt  to  give  ledge.  Much  allowance  ought  to  be  made 
a  full  scheme.  Gassendi,  hi  his  different  by  every  candid  reader  for  the  defects  of  a 
writings,  especially  in  the  Syntagma  Philo-  book  which  was  written  with  so  littl« 
eophicum.  seems  to  have  had  as  extensive  aid  from  earlier  inquirers,  and  displays 
an  object  in  view ;  but  his  investigation  throughout  so  many  traces  of  an  original 
was  neither  so  close,  nor  perhaps  so  com-  mind.  The  bearings  in  our  first  voyages 
plete,  as  that  of  our  countryman.  Tet,  of  discovery  were  not  all  laid  down  as  cor- 
«ven  in  this  remarkable  work  of  Hobbes,  rectly  as  at  present.  It  is  not  pleasant  to 
we  find  accounts  of  seme  principal  facul-  observe,  that  neither  on  the  Continent 
ties  cf  the  mind,  so  brief  and  nnsatisfec-  nor,  what  is  much  worse,  in  Britain,  has 
tory,  and  so  much  wholly  omitted,  that  sufficient  regard  been  paid  to  this  con- 
Locke  can  hardly  be  denied  the  praise  of  sidcration  — 1817.] 


124  ITS  MERITS  AND  DEFECTS.  [PART  IV. 

brutes,  no  reference  of  mathematical  truths  to  the  will  of  God, 
no  oscillation  between  the  extremes  of  doubt  and  of  positive- 
ness,  no  bewildering  mysticism.  Certainly  neither  Gassendi 
nor  even  Hobbes  could  be  compared  with  him ;  and  it  might 
be  asked  of  the  admirers  of  later  philosophers,  those  of 
Berkeley  or  Hume  or  Hartley  or  Reid  or  Stewart  or  Brown, 
without  naming  any  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  whether,  in 
the  extent  or  originality  of  their  researches,  any  of  these 
names  ought  to  stand  on  a  level  with  that  of  Locke.  One  of 
the  greatest  whom  I  have  mentioned,  and  one  who,  though 
candid  towards  Locke,  had  no  prejudice  whatever  in  his  favor, 
has  extolled  the  first  two  books  of  the  Essay  on  Human  Under- 
standing, which  yet  he  deems  in  many  respects  inferior  to  the 
third  and  fourth,  as  "  a  precious  accession  to  the  theory  of 
the  human  mind ;  as  the  richest  contribution  of  well-observed 
and  well-described  facts  which  was  ever  bequeathed  by  a  sin- 
gle individual ;  and  as  the  indisputable,  thougli  not  always 
acknowledged,  source  of  some  of  the  most  refined  conclusions, 
with  respect  to  the  intellectual  phenomena,  which  have  been 
since  brought  to  light  by  succeeding  inquirers." * 

106.  It  would  be  an  unnecessary  prolixity  to  offer  in  this 
place  an  analysis  of  so  well-known  a  book  as  the 
Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding.  Few  have 
turned  their  attention  to  metaphysical  inquiries  without  read- 
ing it.  It  has,  however,  no  inconsiderable  faults,  which, 
though  much  over-balanced,  are  not  to  be  passed  over  in  a 
general  eulogy.  The  style  of  Locke  is  wanting  in  philosophi- 
cal precisipn :  it  is  a  good  model  of  the  English  language, 
but  too  idiomatic  and  colloquial,  too  indefinite  and  figurative, 
for  the  abstruse  subjects  with  which  he  has  to  deal.  We  miss 
in  every  page  the  translucent  simplicity  of  his  great  French 
predecessors.  This  seems  to  have  been  owing,  in  a  considera- 
ble degree,  to  an  excessive  desire  of  popularizing  the  subject, 
and  shunning  the  technical  pedantry  which  had  repelled  the 

1  Stewart's  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  tion ;  the  same  theory  as  to  substance, 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  part  ii.  the  formation  of  genera  and  species,  the 

[No  one  seems  to  have  so  much  antici-  association  of  ideas,  the  same  views  as  to 

pated  Locke,  if  we  can  wholly  rely  on  the  axioms  and  syllogisms.  But  as  the  Italian 

analysis  of  a  work  unpublished,  and  said  who  has  given  us  this  representation  of 

to  be  now  lost,  as  Father  Paul  Sarpi.  Father  Paul's  philosophy  had  Locke  before 

This  is  a  short  treatise,  entitled  Arte  dl  him,  and  does  not  quote  his  own  author's 

ben  Pensare,  an  extract  from  the  analysis  words,  we  may  suspect  that  he  has  some- 

of  which  by  Marco  Foscarini  is  given  in  what  exaggerated  the  resemblance.  I  do 

Sarpi's  life,  by  Bianchi  Giovini,  vol.  i.  not  think  that  any  nation  is  more  prone 

p.  81.  We  have  here  not  only  the  deriva-  to  claim  every  feather  from  the  wings  of 

tion  of  ideas  from  sense,  but  from  reflec-  other  birds.  — 1847.] 


CHAP.  HI.  ORIGIN  OF  IDEAS.  125 

world  from  Intellectual  philosophy.  Locke  displays  in  all  his 
writings  a  respect,  which  can  hardly  be  too  great,  for  men  of 
sound  understanding,  unprejudiced  by  authority,  mingled  with 
a  scorn,  perhaps  a  little  exaggerated,  of  the  gown-men  or 
learned  world;  little  suspecting  that  the  same  appeal  to  the 
people,  the  same  policy  of  setting  up  equivocal  words  and 
loose  notions,  called  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  to  discom- 
fit subtle  reasoning,  would  afterwards  be  turned  against  himself', 
as  it  was.  very  unfairly  and  unsparingly,  by  Reid  and  Beattie. 
Hence  he  falls  a  little  into  a  laxity  of  phrase,  not  unusual, 
and  not  always  important,  in  popular  and  practical  discourse, 
but  an  inevitable  source  of  confusion  in  the  very  abstract 
speculations  which  his  Essay  contains.  And  it  may,  perhaps, 
be  suspected,  without  disparagement  to  his  great  powers,  that 
he  did  not  always  preserve  the  utmost  distinctness  of  con- 
ception, and  was  liable,  as  almost  every  other  metaphysician 
has  been,  to  be  entangled  in  the  ambiguities  of  language. 

107.  The  leading  doctrine  of  Locke,  as  is  well  known,  i* 
the  derivation  of  all  our  simple  ideas  from  sensation 
and  from  reflection.  The  former  present,  compara- 
tively,  no  great  difficulty ;  but  he  is  not  very  clear 
or  consistent  about  the  latter.  He  seems  in  general 
to  limit  the  word  to  the  various  operations  of  our  own  minds 
in  thinking,  believing,  willing,  and  so  forth.  This,  as  has 
been  shown  formerly,  is  taken  from,  or  at  least  coincident 
with,  the  theory  of  Gassendi  in  his  Syntagma  Philosophicum. 
It  is  highly  probable  that  Locke  was  acquainted  with  that 
work ;  if  not  immediately,  yet  through  the  account  of  the 
philosophy  of  Gassendi,  published  in  English  by  Dr.  Charle- 
ton  in  1663,  -which  I  have  not  seen,  or  through  the  excellent 
and  copious  abridgment  of  the  Syntagma  by  Bernier.  But 
he  does  not  strictly  confine  his  ideas  of  reflection  to  this  class. 
Duration  is  certainly  no  mode  of  thinking ;  yet  the  idea  of 
duration  is  reckoned  by  Locke  among  those  with  which  we 
are  furnished  by  reflection.  The  same  may  perhaps  be  said, 
though  I  do  not  know  that  he  expresses  himself  with  equal 
clearness.  a«  to  his  account  of  several  other  ideas,  which  can- 
not be  deduced  from  external  sensation,  nor  yet  can  be 
reckoned  modifications  or  operations  of  the  soul  itself;  such 
as  number,  power,  existence.1 

1  [Upon  more  attentive  consideration  tain  no  doubt  but  that  Stewart  is  nght, 
of  all  the  passages  wherein  Locke  speaks  and  some  of  Locked  opponents  in  the 
of  ideas  derived  from  reflection,  I  enter-  wrong.  He  evidently  meant,  that  by  re- 


326  VAGUE  USE  OF  THE  WORD  "IDEA/'         PART  IV. 

108.  Stewart  has  been  so  much  struck  by  this  indefinite- 
vague  use  ness>  ^h  which  the  phrase  "ideas  of  reflection" 
of  the  word  has  been  used  in  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing, that  he  "  does  not  think,  notwithstanding 
some  casual  expressions  which  may  seem  to  favor  the  con- 
necting on  the  operations  of  our  own  was,  which,  in  the  first  instance,  intro- 
minds  as  well  as  on  our  bodily  sensations,  duced  it  to  our  acquaintance."  —  Philos 
divers  new  simple  ideas  are  suggested  to  Essays.  I.  chap.  ii.  It  is  true,  that  he 
us,  which  are  not  in  themselves  either  proceeds  to  impute  a  different  theory  to 
such  operations  or  such  sensations.  These  Locke ;  namely,  that  consciousness  is  ex- 
"  simple  ideas  convey  themselves  into  the  clusively  the  source  of  all  our  knowledge  : 
mind  by  all  the  wayo  of  sensation  and  which  he  takes  to  mean,  that  all  our  origi- 
reflection ; "  and  he  enumerates  pleasure  nal  ideas  may  be  classed  under  acts  of 
and  paiu,  power,  existence,  unity  ;  to  consciousness,  as  well  as  suggested  by  it. 
•which  he  afterwards  adds  duration.  "  Ke-  But,  in  his  Dissertation,  we  have  seen  that 
flection  on  the  appearance  of  several  ideas,  he  takes  a  more  favorable  view  of  the 
one  after  another,  in  our  minds,  is  that  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding  in 
which  furnishes  us  with  the  idea  of  sue-  this  great  question  of  the  origin  of  our 
cession ;  and  the  distance  between  any  ideas,  and,  as  it  now  appears  to  me,  be- 
parts  of  that  succession,  or  between  the  yond  dispute  a  more  true  one.  The  want 


for  the  basis  of  the  idea  of  number,  believe,  hardly  the  most  depreciating  critic 
I'  Amongst  all  the  ideas  we  have,  as  there  of  Locke  at  Paris  or  Oxford,  that  he  took 
is  none  suggested  to  the  mind  by  more  duration  and  number  for  actual  operations 
ways,  so  is  there  none  more  simple  than  of  the  mind,  such  as  doubting  or  coin- 
that  of  unity,  or  one  ;  it  has  no  shadow  of  paring.  Price  had  long  since  admitted, 
variety  or  composition  in  it ;  every  object  that  Locke  had  no  other  meaning  than 
our  senses  are  employed  about,  every  idea  that  our  ideas  are  derived,  iimm>diiitely  or 
in  our  understandings,  every  thought  of  ultimately,  from  sensation  or  reflection ; 
our  minds,  brings  this  idea  along  with  it."  or,  in  other  word*,  "  that  they  furnish  us 
—  ch.  x.  §  1.  Thus  we  have  proofs,  and  with  all  the  subjects,  materials,  and  occa- 
more  might  easily  be  alleged,  that  Locke  sions  of  knowledge,  comparison,  and  m- 
really  admitted  the  understanding  to  be  ternal  perception.  This,  however,  by  no 
BO  far  the  source  of  new  simple  ideas,  that  means  renders  them  in  any  proper  sense 
several  of  primary  importance  arise  in  our  the  source  of  all  our  ideas."  —  Price's  Dis- 
minds,  on  the  suggestion  of  the  senses,  or  sertations  on  Morals,  p.  16. 
of  our  observing  the  inward  operations  of  Cousin  enumerates,  as  simple  ideas  not 
our  minds,  which  are  not  strictly  to  be  derived  from  sensation  or  reflection,  space, 
classed  themselves  as  suggestions,  or  as  acts  duration,  infinity,  identity,  substance, 
of  consciousness.  And  when  we  remem-  cause,  and  right.  Locke  would  have  re- 
ber  also,  that  the  power  of  the  under-  plied,  that  the  idea  of  space,  as  mere  den- 
standing  to  compound  simple  ideas  is  a  nite  extension,  was  derived  from  sensation ; 
leading  part  of  his  system,  and  also  that  and  that  of  space  generally,  or  what  he 
certain  ideas,  which  others  take  for  simple,  has  called  expansion,  was  not  simple,  but 
are  reckoned  by  him,  whether  rightly  or  complex;  that  those  of  duration,  cause 
no,  to  be  complex,  we  may  be  forced  (or  power),  and  identity,  were  furnish.*.! 
to  admit,  that  the  outcry  raised  against  by  reflection ;  that  the  idea  of  right  is  not 
Locke  as  a  teacher  of  the  sensualist  school  simple,  and  that  those  of  substance  and 
has  been  chiefly  founded  on  inattention  infinity  are  hardly  formed  by  the  mind  at 
to  his  language,  and  to  some  inaccuracy  all.  lie  would  add  existence  and  unitv 
in  it.  Stewart  had  already  stated  the  true  to  the  list ;  both,  according  to  him,  de 
doctrine  as  to  ideas  of  reflection.  "  In  rived  from  reflection, 
such  cases,  all  that  can  be  said  is,  that  the  51.  Cousin  has  by  no  means  done  jus 
exercise  of  a  particular  faculty  furnishes  tice  to  Locke  as  to  the  idea  of  cause.  '•  On 
the  occasion  on  which  certain  simple  no-  salt  que  Locke,  apres  avoir  aflmne  dans 
tions  are,  by  the  laws  of  our  constitution,  un  chapitre  sur  1'idee  de  cause  et  d'efiet, 
presented  to  our  thoughts ;  nor  does  it  que  cette  idee  nous  ost  donnee  par  la  sen- 
eeem  possible  for  us  to  trace  the  origin  of  sation,  s'avise,  dans  un  chapitre  different 
a  particular  notion  any  farther,  than  to  sur  la  puissance,  d'une  toute  autre  origine, 
«scertaiu  what  the  nature  of  the  occasion  bien  qu'il  s-agisse,  au  fond,  de  la  meine 


CHAP.  IIL       VAGUE  USE  OF  THE  \VORD  "IDEA."  127 

trary  supposition,  that  Locke  would  have  hesitated  for  a 
moment  to  admit  with  Cudworth  and  Price,  that  the  under- 
standing is  the  source  of  new  ideas."1  And  though  some 
might  object  that  this  is  too  much  in  opposition,  not  to  casual 
expressions,  but  to  the  whole  tenor  of  Locke's  Essay,  his 
language  concerning  substance  almost  bears  it  out.  Most  of 
the  perplexity  which  has  arisen  on  this  subject,  the  combats 
of  some  metaphysicians  with  Locke,  the  portentous  errors 
into  which  others  have  been  led  by  want  of  attention  to  his 
language,  may  be  referred  to  the  equivocal  meaning  of  the 
word  '•  idea."  The  Cartesians  understood  by  this  whatever  is 
the  object  of  thought,  including  an  intellection  as  well  as  an 
imagination.  By  an  intellection  they  meant  that  which  the 
mind  conceives  to  exist,  and  to  be  the  subject  of  knowledge, 
though  it  may  be  unimaginable  and  incomprehensible.  Gas- 
sendi  and  Locke  (at  least  in  this  part  of  his  Essay)  limit  the 
word  "  idea  "  to  something  which  the  mind  sees  and  grasps  as 
immediately  present  to  it,  — "  that,"  as  Locke  not  very  well 
expresses  it,  "  which  the  mind  is  applied  about  while  thinking 
being  the  ideas  that  are  there."  Hence  he  speaks  with  some 
ridicule  of  "men  who  persuade  themselves  that  they  have 
clear,  comprehensive  ideas  of  infinity."  Such  men  can  hardly 
have  existed ;  but  it  is  by  annexing  the  epithets  clear  and 
comprehensive,  that  he  shows-  the  dispute  to  be  merely  verbal. 
For  that  we  know  the  existence  of  infinites  as  objectively 
real,  and  can  reason  upon  them,  Locke  would  not  have 
denied;  and  it  is  this  knowledge  to  which  others  gave  the 
name  of  idea. 

109.  The  different  manner  in  which  this  all-important  word 
was  understood  by  philosophers  is  strikingly  shown  when 
they  make  use  of  the  same  illustration.  Arnauld,  if  he  is 
author  of  L'Art  de  Penser,  mentions  the  idea  of  a  chilia- 

idee.  D  trouve  cette  engine  nouvelle  dans  here  speaking  of  physical  causes,  but,  in 

la  reflexion  appliquee  a  la  volonte."  &c. —  his  chapter  on  Power,  of  efficient  ones, 

Fragmens  Philosophiques,   p.  83.     Now,  and  principally  of  the  human  mind  :  inti- 

in  the  first  place,  the  chapter  on  Power,  in  mating  also  his  opinion,  that  matter  is 

the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  destitute  of  active  power,  that  is.  of  effi- 

B.  ii.  ch.  21,  comes  before  and  not  after  cient  causation.    The  form  on  salt  is.  as 

that  on  Cause  and  Effect,  ch.  26.    But  it  on  sail,  a  common  mode  of  introducing 

is  more  important  to  observe,  that  in  the  any  questionable  position.      It  does   not 

latter  chapter,   and  at  the  close  of  the  follow  from  this,  that  Locke's  exprt 

25th.  Locke  distinctly  says,  that  the  idea  is  in  the  26th  chapter,  on  Cause  and  Effect, 

"  derived  from   the   two  fountains  of  all  are  altogether  the  best ;  but  they  must  to 

our  knowledge, sensation  and  reflection;  "•  considered  in  connection  with   his    long 

and  ••  that  this  relation,  how  comprehen-  chapter  on  Power.  — 1847.] 

rive  soever,  terminates  at  last  in  them."  *  Prelim.  Dissertation. 
It  is  also  to  be  kept  in  mind   that  he  is 


128  VAGUE  USE  OF  THE  WORD  "IDEA."        PART  IV. 

gon,  or  figure  of  1,000  sides,  as  an  instance  of  the  distinction 
between  that  which  we  imagine  and  that  which  we  conceive 
or  understand.  Locke  has  employed  the  same  instance  to 
exemplify  the  difference  between  clear  and  obscure  ideas. 
According  to  the  former,  we  do  not  imagine  a  figure  with 
1,000  sides  at  all :  according  to  the  latter,  we  form  a  confused 
image  of  it.  We  have  an  idea  of  such  a  figure,  it  is  agreed 
by  both :  but,  in  the  sense  of  Arnauld,  it  is  an  idea  of  the 
understanding  alone ;  in  the  sense  of  Locke,  it  is  an  idea 
of  sensation,  framed,  like  other  complex  ideas,  by  putting 
together  those  we  have  formerly  received,  though  we  may 
never  have  seen  the  precise  figure.  That  the  word  suggests 
to  the  mind  an  image  of  a  polygon  with  many  sides  is  indu- 
bitable :  but  it  is  urged  by  the  Cartesians,  that,  as  we  are 
wholly  incapable  of  distinguishing  the  exact  number,  we  can- 
not be  said  to  have,  in  Locke's  sense  of  the  word,  any  idea, 
even  an  indistinct  one,  of  a  figure  with  1,000  sides ;  since  all 
we  do  imagine  is  a  polygon.  And  it  is  evident,  that  in  geo- 
metry we  do  not  reason  from  the  properties  of  the  image,  but 
from  those  of  a  figure  which  the  understanding  apprehends. 
Locke,  however,  who  generally  preferred  a  popular  meaning 
to  one  more  metaphysically  exact,  thought  it  enough  to  call 
this  a  confused  idea.  He  was  not,  I  believe,  conversant  with 
any  but  elementary  geometry.  Had  he  reflected  upon  that 
which  in  his  age  had  made  such  a  wonderful  beginning,  or 
even  upon  the  fundamental  principles  of  it,  which  might  be 
found  in  Euclid,  the  theory  of  infinitesimal  quantities,  he 
must,  one  would  suppose,  have  been  more  puzzled  to  apply 
his  narrow  definition  of  an  idea.  For  what  image  can  we 
form  of  a  differential,  which  can  pretend  to  represent  it  in 
any  other  sense  than  as  d  x  represents  it,  by  suggestion,  not 
by  resemblance  ? 

110.  The  case  is,  however,  much  worse  when  Locke  devi- 
ates, as  in  the  third  and  fourth  books  he  constantly  does,  from 
this  sense  that  he  has  put  on  the  word  "  idea,"  and  takes  it 
either  in  the  Cartesian  meaning,  or  in  one  still  more  general 
and  popular.  Thus,  in  the  excellent  chapter  on  the  abuse  of 
words,  he  insists  upon  the  advantage  of  using  none  without 
clear  and  distinct  ideas ;  he  who  does  not  this  "  only  making 
a  noise  without  any  sense  or,  signification."  If  we  combine 
this  position  with  that  in  the  second  book,  that  we  have  no 
clear  and  distinct  idea  of  a  figure  with  1,000  sides,  it  fol- 


CHAP.  HI.      ERROR  AS  TO  GEOMETRICAL  FIGURE.  129 

lows  with  all  the  force  of  syllogism,  that  we  should  not 
argue  about  a  figure  of  1,000  sides  at  all,  nor,  by  parity  of 
reason,  about  many  other  things  of  far  higher  importance.  It 
will  be  found,  I  incline  to  think,  that  the  large  use  of  the 
word  "idea"  for  that  about  which  we  have  some  knowledge, 
without  limiting  it  to  what  can  be  imagined,  pervades  the 
third  and  fourth  books.  Stewart  has  ingeniously  conjectured 
that  they  were  written  before  the  second,  and  probably  before 
the  mind  of  Locke  had  been  much  turned  to  the  psychological 
analysis  which  that  contains.  It  is,  however,  certain,  that  in 
the  Treatise  upon  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  which 
was  not  published  till  after  the  Essay,  he  uses  the  word  "  idea" 
with  full  as  much  latitude  as  in  the  third  and  fourth  books  of 
the  latter.  We  cannot,  upon  the  whole,  help  admitting,  that 
the  story  of  a  lady,  who,  after  the  perusal  of  the  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding,  laid  it  down  with  a  remark,  that 
the  book  would  be  perfectly  charming  were  it  not  for  the  fre- 
quent recurrence  of  one  very  hard  word,  idea,  though  told, 
possibly,  in  ridicule  of  the  fair  philosopher,  pretty  well  repre- 
sents the  state  of  mind  in  which  many  at  first  have  found 
themselves.1 

111.  Locke,  as  I  have  just  intimated,  seems  to  have  pos- 
sessed  but   a   slight   knowledge   of    geometry,  —  a 
science  which,  both  from  the  clearness  of  the  illus-  t^geome- 
trations  it  affords,  and  from  its  admitted  efficacy  in  5dcal 

-,.,,.,  J  figure. 

rendering  the  logical  powers  acute  and  cautious,  may 
be  reckoned,  without  excepting  physiology,  the  most  valuable 
of  all  to  the  metaphysician.      But  it  did  not  require  any 
geometrical  knowledge,  strictly  so  called,  to  avoid  one  mate- 
rial error  into  which  he  has  fallen ;  and  which  I  mention  the 

1  [The  character  of  Locke's  philosophical  writer  of  high  authority,  in  favor  of  the 
style,  as  given  by  a  living  philosopher,  by  general  character  of  Locke  as  a  philoso- 
no  means  favorable  to  him,  is  perhaps  too  pher.  "  Few  among  the  great  names  in 
near  the  truth.  "  In  his  language,  Locke  philosophy,"  says  Mr.  Mill,  "  have  met 
is,  of  all  philosophers,  the  most  figurative,  with  a  harder  measure  of  justice  from  the 
ambiguous,  vacillating,  various,  and  even  present  generation  than  Locke,  the  un- 
contradictory,  as  has  been  noticed  by  questioned  founder  of  the  analytical  phi- 
Reid  and  Stewart,  and  by  Brown  himself;  losophyof  mind."  Perhaps  Descartes  and 
indeed,  we  believe,  by  every  author  who  Hobbes,  not  to  mention  Gassendi,  might 
has  had  occasion  to  comment  on  this  phi-  contest  the  palm  as  founders  of  psycho- 
losopher.  The  opinions  of  such  a  writer  logical  analysis ;  but  Mr.  Mill  justly  gives 
are  not,  therefore,  to  be  assumed  from  to  Locke  the  preference  over  Hobbes,  who 
isolated  and  casual  expressions,  which  has  been  sometimes  overrated  of  late, "  not 
themselves  require  to  be  interpreted  on  only  in  sober  judgment,  but  even  in  pro- 
the  general  analogy  of  his  system." —  fundity  and  original  genius."  —  System  of 
Edin.  Rev.  (Sir  William  Hamilton),  vol.  lii.  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  150.  — 1847.] 
p.  189.  I  am  happy  to  cite  another  late 

VOL.  IV.  9 


130  MATHEMATICAL  IDEAS.  PART  IV. 

rather,  because  even  Descartes,  in  one  place,  has  said  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind  ;  and  I  have  met  with  it  not  only 
in  Norris  very  distinctly  and  positively,  but,  more  or  less,  in 
many  or  most  of  those  who  have  treated  of  the  metaphysics 
or  abstract  principles  of  geometry.  "  I  doubt  not,"  says 
Locke,1  "but  it  will  be  easily  granted,  that  the  knowledge  we 
have  of  mathematical  fruths  is  not  only  certain  but  real  know- 
ledge, and  not  the  bare,  empty  vision  of  vain,  insignificant 
chimeras  of  the  brain  ;  and  yet,  if  we  well  consider,  we  shall 
find  that  it  is  only  of  our  own  ideas.  The  mathematician 
considers  the  truth  and  properties  belonging  to  a  rectangle  or 
circle  only  as  they  are  in  idea  in  his  own  mind  ;  for  it  is  pos- 
sible he  never  found  either  of  them  existing  mathematically, 
that  is,  precisely  true,  in  his  life.  .  .  .  All  the  discourses  of 
the  mathematicians  about  the  squaring  of  a  circle,  conic  sec- 
tions, or  any  other  part  of  mathematics,  concern  not  the 
existence  of  any  of  those  figures  ;  but  their  demonstrations, 
which  depend  on  their  ideas,  are  the  same,  whether  there  be 
any  square  or  circle  in  the  world  or  no."  And  the  inference 
he  draws  from  this  is,  that  moral  as  well  as  mathematical 
ideas,  being  archetypes  themselves,  and  so  adequate  and  com- 
plete ideas,  all  the  agreement  or  disagreement  which  he  shall 
find  in  them  will  produce  real  knowledge,  as  well  as  in  mathe- 
matical figures. 

112.  It  is  not  perhaps  necessary  to  inquire  how  far,  upon 
the  hypothesis  of  Berkeley,  this  notion  of  mathematical 
figures,  as  mere  creations  of  the  mind,  could  be  sustained  ; 
but  or  the  supposition  of  the  objectivity  of  space,  as  truly 
existing  without  us,  which  Locke  undoubtedly  assumes,  it  is 
certaia,  that  the  passage  just  quoted  is  entirely  erroneous,  and 
that  it  involves  a  confusion  between  the  geometrical  figure 
itself  and  its  delineation  to  the  eye.  A  geometrical  figure  ia 
a  portion  of  space  contained  in  boundaries,  determined  by 
given  relations.  It  exists  in  the  infinite  round  about  us,  as 
the  statue  exists  in  the  block.2  No  one  can  doubt,  if  he  turns 

1  B  iv.  c.  8.  hand,  but  he  equally  feels  and  perceives 

2  Michael  Angelo  has  well  conveyed  this  the  reality  of  that  figure  which  the  broad 
Idea  in  four  lines,  which  I  quote  from  infinite  around  him  comprehends  col  suo 
Corniani  :  —  soverchio. 


The  geometer  uses  not  the  same  obedient 


CHAP.  III. 


GEOMETRY  OF  INFINITES. 


131 


his  mind  to  the  subject,  that  every  point  in  space  is  equidis- 
tant, in  all  directions,  from  certain  other  points.  Draw  a  line 
through  all  these,  and  you  have  the  circumference  of  a  circle ; 
but  the  circle  itself  and  its  circumference  exist  before  the 
latter  is  delineated.  Thus  the  orbit  of  a  planet  is  not  a  regu- 
lar geometrical  figure,  because  certain  forces  disturb  it.  But 
this  disturbance  means  only  a  deviation  from  a  line  which 
exists  really  in  space,  and  which  the  planet  would  actually 
describe  if  there  were  nothing  in  the  universe  but  itself  and 
the  centre  of  attraction.  The  expression,  therefore,  of  Locke, 
"  whether  there  be  any  square  or  circle  existing  in  the  world 
or  no,"  is  highly  inaccurate ;  the  latter  alternative  being  an 
absurdity.  All  possible  figures,  and  that  "in  number  num- 
berless," exist  everywhere:  nor  can  we  evade  the  perplexities 
into  which  the  geometry  of  infinites  throws  our  imagination, 
by  considering  them  as  mere  beings  of  reason,  the  creatures 
of  the  geometer,  which  I  believe  some  are  half  disposed  to 
do ;  nor  by  substituting  the  vague  and  unphilosophical  notion 
of  indefinitude  for  a  positive  objective  infinity.1 


i  [The  confusion,  as  it  appears  to  me.  be- 
tween sensible  and  real  figure  in  geometry, 
I  have  found  much  more  general  in  philo- 
sophical writers  than  I  was  aware  of  when 
this  passage  was  first  committed  to  the 
press.  Thus  M.  Cousin:  "11  n'existe, 
dans  la  nature,  que  des  figures  imparfaites, 
et  la  geometric  a  pour  condition  d'operer 
Bur  des  figures  parfaites,  sur  le  triangle 
parfait,  le  cercle  parfait,  &c. ;  c'est  4  dire, 
gur  des  figures  qui  n'out  pas  d'existence 
reelle,  et  qui  sont  des  pures  conceptions 
de  1'esprit." —  Hist,  de  la  Philos.,  vol.  ii. 
p.  311.  If  by  figure  we  mean  only  visible 
circumference,  this  is  very  true.  But  the 
geometer  generally  reasons,  not  upon  the 
boundaries,  but  upon  the  extension,  su- 
perficial or  solid,  comprehended  within 
them ;  and  to  this  extension  itself  we 
usually  give  the  name  of  figure.  Again  : 
"  It  is  not  true,"  says  Mr.  Mill,  "  that  a 
circle  exists,  or  can  be  described,  which 
has  all  its  radii  exactly  equal."  —  System 
of  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  200.  Certainly  such  a 
circle  cannot  be  described ;  but  in  every 
geometrical  sense  it  really  exists.  Hence 
he  asserts  "  the  character  of  necessity, 
ascribed  to  mathematics,  to  be  a  mere 
illusion  :  nothing  exists  conformable  to  the 
definitions,  nor  is  even  possible."  —  p.  296. 
It  follows,  of  course,  that  a  straight  line 
is  impossible  ;  which  is  perfectly  true,  if  it 
must  be  drawn  with  a  ruler.  But  is 
it  not  surprising  that  so  acute  a  writer 
as  Mr.  Mill  can  think  any  thing  impossible, 


in  a  metaphysical  sense,  which  implies  no 
contradiction,  and  is  easily  conceived  ?  He 
must  have  used  possible  in  a  sense  limited 
to  human  execution. 

Another  eminent  reasoner  has  gone  the 
full  lengths  of  this  paradox.  "  It  has 
been  rightly  remarked  by  Dugald  Stewart, 
that  mathematical  propositions  are  not 
properly  true  or  false,  in  the  same  sense 
as  any  proposition  respecting  real  fact  is 
so  called ;  and  hence  the  truth,  such  as  it 
is,  of  such  propositions  is  necessary  and 
eternal ;  since  it  amounts  only  to  this, 
that  any  complex  notion  which  you  have 
arbitrarily  formed  must  be  exactly  con- 
formable to  itself."  — Whately's  Elements 
of  Logic,  3d  edit.,  p.  229.  And  thus  a  ce- 
lebrated writer  who  began  in  that  school, 
though  he  has  since  traversed  the  diame- 
ter of  theology :  "  We  are  able  to  define 
the  creations  of  our  own  minds,  for  they 
are  what  we  make  them :  but  it  were  as 
easy  to  create  what  is  real,  as  to  define 
it."  —  Newman's  Sermons  before  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  p.  333. 

The"  only  meaning  we  can  put  on  such 
assertions  is,  that  geometry  is  a  mere 
pastime  of  the  mind,  an  exercise  of  logic, 
in  which  we  have  only  to  take  care  that 
we  assign  no  other  properties  to  the  imagi- 
nary figures  which  answer  to  the  syllogistic 
letters.  A,  B,  and  C,  than  such  as  are  con- 
tained in  their  definition,  without  any  ob- 
jective truth  whatever,  or  relation  to  a  real 
external  universe.  The  perplexities  into 


132       IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  INTELLECTION.     PART  IV. 


113.  The  distinction  between  ideas  of  mere  sensation  and 
those   of  intellection,  -between  what  the  mind  comprehends 

boundaries,  but  is  intuitively  certain  that 
such  figures  are  real,  that  extension  id 
divisible  into  parts,  and  that  there  must 
be  everywhere  in  the  surrounding  ex- 
panse triangles  and  circles  mathematically 
exact,  though  any  diagram  which  we  can 
delineate  will  be  more  or  less  incorrect. 
"  Space,"  says  Sir  John  Herschel  (if  we 
may  name  him),  "  in  its  ultimate  analysis, 
is  nothing  but  an  assemblage  of  distances 
and  directions."  —  Quarterly  Keview, 
June,  1841,  quoted  in  Mill's  Logic,  i.  324. 
This  is  very  forcibly  expressed,  if  not  with 
absolute  precision ;  for  distance  is  per- 
haps, in  strictness,  rather  the  measure  of 
space  than  space  itself.  It  is  suggested 
by  every  extended  body,  the  boundaries 
whereof  must  be  distant  one  from  another ; 
and  it  is  suggested  also  by  the  separation 
of  these  bodies,  which,  when  not  in  con- 
tact, are  perceived  to  have  intervals  be- 
tween them.  But  these  intervals  are  not 
necessarily  filled  by  other  bodies,  nor  even 
by  light ;  as  when  we  perceive  stars,  and 
estimate  their  distances  from  one  another, 
in  a  moonless  night.  The  mere  ideas  of 
distance  and  direction  seem  to  be  simple, 
or  rather  modes  of  the  simple  idea  exten- 
sion ;  and  for  this  reason  no  definition 
can  be  given  of  a  straight  line.  It  is  the 
measure  of  distance  itself;  which  the  mind 
intuitively  apprehends  to  be  but  one,  and 
that  the  shortest  line  which  can  be  drawn. 
"The  only  clear  notion,"  says  Herschel, 
"  we  can  form  of  straightness,  is  unifor- 
mity of  direction."  And  as  the  line  itself 
is  only  imaginary,  or,  if  it  be  drawn, 
is  but  the  representative  of  distance  or 
length,  it  cannot  have,  as  such,  any  other 
dimension.  Though  we  know  that  a  ma- 
terial line  must  have  breadth,  it  is  not  a 
mere  abstraction  of  the  geometer  to  say, 
that  the  distance  of  an  object  from  the 
eye  has  no  breadth ;  but  it  would  be  ab- 
surd to  say  the  contrary. 

The  definition  of  a  mathematical  figure 
involves  only  its  possibility.  But  our 
knowledge  of  extension  itself,  as  object- 
ively real,  renders  all  figures  true  beings, 
not  entia  rationis.  but  actual  beings,  por- 
tions of  one  infinite  continuous  extension. 
They  exist  in  space,  to  repeat  the  meta- 
phor (which  indeed  is  no  metaphor,  but  an 
instance),  as  the  statue  exists  in  the  block. 
Extension,  perhaps,  and  figure,  are  rather 
the  conditions  under  which  bodies,  what- 
ever else  they  may  be,  are  presented  to  our 
senses,  than,  in  perfect  strictness  of  ex- 
pression, the  essentials  of  body  itself. 
They  have  been  called  by  Stewart  the 
mathematical  properties  of  matter.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  they  remain  when  the  body 
is  displaced,  and  would  remain  were  it 


which  mathematicians  have  been  thrown 
by  the  metaphysical  difficulties  of  their 
science  must  appear  truly  ludicrous,  and 
such  as  they  have  manufactured  for  them- 
selves. But  the  most  singular  circum- 
stance of  all  is,  that  nature  is  regulated 
by  these  arbitrary  definitions ;  and  that 
the  truths  of  geometry,  such  as  they  are, 
enable  us  to  predict  the  return  of  Uranus 
or  Neptune  to  the  same  place  in  the 
heavens  after  the  present  generation  are  in 
their  graves.  A  comet  leaves  its  perihe- 
lion, and  pursues  its  path  through  the 
remote  regions  of  space :  the  astronomer 
foretells  its  return  by  the  laws  of  a  geo- 
metrical figure,  and,  if  it  come  a  few  days 
only  before  the  calculated  moment,  has 
recourse  to  the  hypothesis  of  some  re- 
sistance which  has  diminished  its  orbit; 
BO  sure  is  he  that  the  projectile  force,  and 
that  of  gravity,  act  in  lines  geometrically 
straight. 

The  source  of  this  paradox  appears  to  be 
a  too  hasty  and  rather  inaccurate  assump- 
tion, that  geometry  depends  upon  defi- 
nitions. But,  though  we  cannot  argue 
except  according  to  our  definitions,  the 
real  subject  of  the  science  is  not  those 
terms,  but  the  properties  of  the  things 
defined.  We  conceive  a  perfect  circle  to 
be  not  only  a  possible  but  a  real  figure : 
that  its  radii  are  equal,  belongs  to  the 
idea,  not  to  the  words  by  which  we  define 
it.  Men  might  reason  by  themselves  on 
geometry  without  any  definitions ;  or,  if 
they  could  not,  the  truths  of  the  science 
would  be  the  same. 

The  universal  and  necessary  belief  of 
mankind  is,  that  we  are  placed  in  the 
midst  of  an  unbounded  ocean  of  space. 
On  all  sides  of  us,  and  in  three  dimensions, 
this  in  spread  around.  We  cannot  con- 
ceive it  to  be  annihilated,  or  to  have  had 
a  beginning.  Innumerable  objects  of  our 
senses,  themselves  extended,  that  is,  occu- 
pying portions  of  this  space,  but  portions 
not  always  the  same,  float  within  it.  And 
as  we  find  other  properties  than  mere 
extension  in  these  objects,  by  which  pro- 
perties alone  they  arc  distinguishable  from 
the  surrounding  space,  we  denominate 
them  bodies,  or  material  substances.  Con- 
sidered in  its  distinction  from  this  space, 
their  own  proper  extension  has  bounda- 
ries by  which  they  come  under  the  relation 
of  figure ;  and  thus  all  bodies  are  figured. 
But  we  do  not  necessarily  limit  this  word 
to  material  substances.  The  mind  is  not 
only  perfectly  capable  of  considering  geo- 
metrical fijrures,  that  is,  particular  por- 
tions of  the  continuous  extension  which 
we  call  absolute  space,  by  themselves,  as 
measured  by  the  mutual  distances  of  their 


CHAP.  HI.   IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  IXTELLECYlON.        133 


and  what  it  conceives  without  comprehending,  is  the  point  of 
divergence  between  the  two  sects  of  psychology  which  still 


annihilated.  And  it  is  with  the  relation 
of  bodies  to  space  absolute  that  the  geo- 
meter hag  to  deal;  never,  in  his  pore 
science,  with  their  material  properties. 

What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  what  we 
sonic-times  read,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  circle  or  a  triangle  in  nature  ? 
If  we  are  to  understand  the  physical  uni- 
Terse.  the  material  world,  which  is  the 
common  sense,  this  may  perhaps  be  true ; 
but  what,  then,  has  the  geometer  to  do 
with  nature?  If  we  include  absolute 
space  under  the  word  "nature,"  I  must 
entirely  deny  the  assertion.  Can  we  doubt 
that  portions  of  space,  or  points,  exist  in 
every  direction  at  the  same  distance  from 
any  other  assignable  point  or  portion  of 
space?  I  cannot  draw  a  radius  precisely  a 
foot  long;  but  I  can  draw  a  line  mere 
than  eleven  inches  in  length,  and  can  pro- 
duce this  till  it  is  more  than  twelve.  At 
some  point  or  other,  it  has  been  exactly 
the  length  of  a  foot.  The  want  of  pre- 
cise uniformity  of  direction  may  be  over- 
come in  the  same  way  :  there  is  a  series 
of  points  along  which  the  line  might  have 
been  directed,  so  as  to  be  perfectly  uni- 
form ;  just  as  in  the  orbit  of  a  planet 
round  the  sun.  disturbed  as  it  is  by  the 
attraction  of  a  third  body  at  every  point, 
there  is  yet  at  every  point  a  line,  called 
the  instantaneous  ellipse,  along  which  the 
path  of  the  body  might  by  possibility  have 
proceeded  in  a  geometrical  curve.  l*t 
the  mind  once  fix  itself  on  the  idea  of  con- 
tinuous extension,  and  its  divisibility  into 
parts  mathematically  equal,  or  in  mathe- 
matical ratios,  must  appear  necessary. 

Geometry,  then,  is  not  a  science  of 
reasoning  upon  definitions,  such  as  we 
please  to  conceive,  but  on  the  relations 
of  space.  —  of  space,  an  objective  being, 
according  at  least  to  human  conceptions ; 
space,  the  bosom  of  nature,  that  which 
alone  makes  all  things  sensibly  without 
us :  made  known  to  us  by  a  primary  law 
of  the  understanding,  as  some  hold ;  by 
experience  of  sensation,  or  inference  from 
It,  as  others  maintain :  but  necessary, 
eternal,  the  basis  of  such  demonstration 
as  no  other  science  possesses:  because  in 
no  other  do  we  perceive  an  absolute  im- 
possibility, an  impossibility  paramount, 
speaking 'reverently,  to  the  Creator's  will, 
that  the  premises  of  our  reasoning  might 
have  been  different  from  what  they  are. 
The  definitions  of  geometrical  figures  no 
more  constitute  their  essence  than  those 
of  a  plant  or  a  mineral.  Whether  geo- 
metrical reasoning  is  built  on  the  rela- 
tions of  parts  of  space,  merely  as  defined  in 
words,  is  another  question :  it  certainly 
appears  to  me.  that  definitions  supply  only 


the  terms  of  the  proposition,  and  that 
without  a  knowledge,  verbal  or  implied, 
of  the  axioms,  we  could  not  deduce  any 
conclusions  at  all.  But  this  affects  only 
the  logic  of  the  theorem,  the  process  by 
which  the  relations  of  space  are  unfolded 
to  the  human  understanding.  I  cannot, 
for  a  moment,  believe  that  the  distin- 
guished philosopher,  who  has  strenuously 
argued  for  the  deduction  of  geometry  from, 
definitions,  meant  any  more  than  to  oppose 
them  to  axioms.  That  they  are*  purely 
arbitrary,  that  they  are  the  creatures  of 
the  mind,  like  harpies  and  chimeras,  he 
could  hardly  have  thought ;  being  himself 
habituated  to  geometrical  studies.  But 
the  language  of  Stewart  is  not  sufficiently 
guarded  :  and  he  has  served  as  an  autho- 
rity to  those  who  have  uttered  so  singulai 
a  paradox.  "  From  what  principle,"  says 
Stewart,  "are  the  various  properties  of 
the  circle  derived,  but  from  the  definition 
of  a  circle  ?  from  what  principle  the  pro- 
perties of  the  parabola  or  ellipse,  but 
from  the  definitions  of  these  curves?  A 
similar  observation  may  be  extended  to 
all  the  other  theorems  which  the  mathe- 
matician demonstrates."  —  Vol.  ii.  p.  41. 
The  properties  of  a  circle  or  the  other 
curves,  we  answer,  are  derived  from  that 
leading  property  which  we  express  in  the 
definition.  But  surely  we  can  make  use 
of  no  definition  which  does  not  declare  a 
real  property.  We  might  impose  a  name 
on  a  quadrilateral  figure  with  equal  angles 
and  siiles  not  parallel ;  but  could  we  draw 
an  inference  from  it?  And  why  could  we 
not,  but  because  we  shouid  be  restrained 
by  it?  incompatibility  with  our  necessary 
conceptions  of  the  relations. of  space?  It 
is  these  primary  conceptions  to  which 
our  definitions  must  conform.  Definitions 
of  figure,  at  least  in  all  but  the  most 
familiar,  are  indispensable,  in  order  to 
make  us  apprehend  particular  relations  of 
distance,  and  to  keep  our  reasonings  deal 
from  confusion :  but  this  is  only  the  com- 
mon province  of  language. 

In  this  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  finding 
myself  supported  by  the  authority  of  Dr 
Wbewell.  ••  Supposing,"  he  observes  in  hU 
Thoughts  on  the  Study  of  the  Mathem;i  tics, 
"  we  could  get  rid  of  geometrical  axioms 
altogether,  and  deduce  our  reasoning  from 
definitions  alone,  it  must  be  allowed,  I 
think,  that  still  our  geometrical  proposi- 
tions would  probably  depend,  not  on  the 
definitions,  but  on  the  act  of  mind  by 
which  we  fix  upon  such  definitions:  in 
short,  on  our  conception  of  space.  The 
axiom,  that  two  straight,  lines  cannot 
enclose  space,  is  a  self-evident  truth,  and 
founded  upon  our  faculty  of  apprehending 


134       IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  INTELLECTION.     PAKT  IV. 

exist  in  the  world.     Nothing  is  in  the  intellect  which  has  not 
before  been  in   the  sense,  said  the  Aristotelian  schoolmen. 

the  properties  of  space,  and  of  conceiving  to  the  second  doctrine,  which  was  revived 

a  straight  line.  .  .  .  We  should  present  a  from  Hobbes,  fifty  years  since,  by  Dr.  Bed- 

false  view  of  the  nature  of  geometrical  does,  in  a  tract  on  Demonstrative  Evidence, 

truth  if  we  were  to  represent  it  as  resting  which  I  have  heard  attributed,  in  part, 

upon  definitions,  and  should  overlook  or  to  Professor  Leslie,  a  supporter   of   the 

deny  the  faculty  of  the  mind,  and  the  in-  same  theory.     Sir  William  Hamilton  ex- 

tellectual  process  which  is  implied  in  our  claims  upon  the  position  of  two  writers  in 

fixing  upon  such  definitions.    Thefounda-  the  suite  of  Archbishop  Whately,  that  it 

tion  of  all  the  properties  of  straight  lines  is  by  induction  all  axioms  are   known, 

is  certainly  not  the  definition,  but  the  such  as  "A  whole  is  greater  than  its  parts," 

conception  of  a  straight  line  ;  and,  in  the  "Is  such   the  Oxford  metaphysics?"  — 

game  manner,  the  foundation  of  all  geo-  Edinb.  Rev.,  vol.  Ivii.  p.  232.    But  though 

metrical  truth  resides  in  our  general  con-  the  assertion  seems  more  monstrous,  v  lion 

ceptions  of  spaco."  —  p.  151.  applied  to  such  an  axiom  as  this,  it  is 

That  mathematical   truths  (a  position  substantially   found  in  many  writers  of 

of  Stewart  commended  by  Whately)  are  deserved  fame  ;   nor  is  it  either  a  meta- 

not  properly  called  matters  of  fact,  is  no  physics  of  Oxford  growth,  or  very  likely 

new  distinction.    They  are  not  yevofuva  ;  to  be  well  received  there.     The  Oxford 

%,  •      •     *•    „  oo  .natto^c  ««•  error  at  present,  that  at  least  of  the  donu- 

they  have  no  being  in  tune,  as  matters  of  ^  ^      ^  ^  ^  ^          ^^ 

fact  have;    they  are  ovra,   beings  if  a  &   gtrong  tendency   to  abpolute  piatc,nic 

higher  order  than  any  facts,  but  still  reali-  reaiigjn.    xhis  has  had,  cause  or  effect, 

ties,  and,  as  some  philosophers  have  held,  Bomething  to  do  with  the  apotheosis  of  the 

more  truly  real  than  any  created  essence,  church,  which  implies  reality,  a  step   to 

But  Archbishop  Whately  is  a  nominalist  personality. 

of  the  school  of  Hobbes.    Mr.  Mill,  who  is  lt  seejus  to  follow  from  this  inductive 

an  avowed  coneeptualist,  has  said:  "Every  theory,  that  we  believe  two  straight  lines 

proposition  which  conveys  real   informa-  not  to  jnciu(je  a  space,  because  we  have 

tion  asserts  a  matter  of  fact  dependent  on  never  g^n  them  do  so,  or  heard  of  any 

the  laws  of  nature,  and  not  upon  artificial  one  wno  nag  .  &n^  ^g  mere  induction  is 

classification."  —  Vol.  i.  p.  237.     But  here  confessed  to  be  no 


basis  of  certain  truth, 

he  must  use  matter  of  fact  in  a  loose  we  must  admit  mathematical  demonstra- 

Bense;  for  he  would  certainly  admit  mathe-  tion  to  differ  only  in  degree  of  positive 

matical  theorems  to  convey  real  informa-  evidence  fi.om  probability.    As  the  pas- 

tion  ;  though  I  do  not  agree  with  him  that  eltge  -m  mj  text  to  which  this  note  refers 

they  are,  in  propriety  of  language,  depend-  i)esirs  no  reiation  to  this  second  opinion,  I 

ent  on  the  laws  of  nature.    He  observes  gnall  not  dwen  upon  it  farther  than  to 

on    the  archbishop's    position,   that   the  remark,  that  it  seems  strange  to  hear  that 

object  of  reasoning  is  to  expand  the  asser-  two  straight  lines  are  only  proved  by  obser- 

tions  wrapped  up  in  those  with  which  we  TatiOn  not  to  include  a  space,  when  we  are 

set  out,  that  "  it  is  not  easy  to  see  _how  told  hi  the  same  breath  that  no  straight 

such  a  science  as  geometry  can  be  said  to  jjneg   exjgt,  and   consequently   that  any 

be  wrapped  up  in  a  few  definitions  and  wnjch  we  may  take  for  straight  would  be 

axioms."  —  p.  297.     Whether  this  be  a  fo^d,  on  a  more  accurate  examination, 

sufficient  answer  to  the  archbishop  or  no,  to  jnciude  a  space  between  them.    But, 

it  shows  that  Mr.  Mill  considers  mathe-  reTerting  to  the  subject  of  the  former  part 

matical  propositions  to  convey  real  science.  oj  tnjs  note,  it  may  be  observed,  that  our 

Two  opposite  errors  are  often  found  in  conception  that  two  straight  lines  cannot 

modern   writers  on   the    metaphysics  of  include  a  space  is  a  homage  to  the  reality 

geometry  :   the  one,  that  which  has  just  of  geometrical  figure  ;   for  experience  hii* 

been  discussed,  —  the  denial  of  absolute  not  given  it  :  all  we  learn  from  experience 

reality  to  mathematical  truths  ;  the  other  is,  that   the  nearer   to   straightuess   two 

wholly   opposite,   yet  which   equally   de-  lines  are  drawn,  the  less  space   they  in- 

stroys    their   prerogative,  —  !  mean    the  elude.    And  even  here  the  reasoning  is 

theorv  that  they  are  only  established  by  in  the  inverse  order  :  the  ten  cpace  tbeg  in- 

induction.     As  in  the  first   they  are   no  elude,  the  more  they  approach  to  straight  ; 

facts  in  any  sense,  not  real  truths,  so  in  that  is,  the  nearer  to  uniformity  is  their 

the  other  they  are  mere  facts.     But,  in-  direction. 

deed,  both  these  opinions,  divergent  as  they  In  all  this  I  have  assumed  the  reality 

seem    emanate  from  the  ultra-nominalist  of  space,  according  to  the  usual  appreheu- 

school  •  and  they  sometimes  are  combined  sion  of  mankind.     With  the  transcenden- 

in  the  'same  writer.     Mr.  Mill  and  Mr.  De  tal  problem,  raised  by  the  Kantian  school, 

Morgan  havu  lent  their  great  authority  it  seems  unnecessary  to  meddle.    We  know 


CHAP.  III.    IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  INTELLECTION. 


135 


Every  idea  has  its  original  in  the  senses,  repeated  the  disciple 
of  Epicurus,  —  Gassendi.    Locke  indeed,  as  Gassendi  had  done 


at  least  that  we  acknowledge  the  objectivity 
of  space  by  a  condition  of  our  understand- 
ings ;  we  know  that  others  with  whom  we 
converse  have  the  like  conceptions  of  it; 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe,  that  in- 
ferior animals  judge  of  extension,  dis- 
tance, and  direction,  by  sensations  and 
inferences  analogous  to  our  own  ;  we  pre- 
dict the  future,  in  calculating  the  motions 
of  heavenly  and  terrestrial  bodies,  on  the 
assumption  that  space  is  no  fiction  of 
the  brain,  its  portions  and  measured  dis- 
tances no  creations  of  an  arbitrary  defi- 
nition. Locke,  I  am  aware,  in  one  of  the 
miscellaneous  papers  published  by  Lord 
King  ( Life  of  Locke,  vol.  ii.  p.  175),  bearing 
the  date  1677,  says,  "  Space  in  itself  seems 
to  be  nothing  but  a  capacity  or  possibility 
for  extended  beings  or  bodies  to  be  or 
exist;"  and,  "The  space  where  a  real 
globe  of  a  foot  diameter  exists,  though  we 
imagine  it  to  be  really  something,  to  have 
a  real  existence  before  and  after  its  [the 
globe's]  existence,  there,  in  truth,  is  really 
nothing."  And  finally,  "  Though  it  be 
true  that  the  black  lines  drawn  on  a  rule 
have  the  relation  one  to  another  of  an 
inch  distance,  they  being  real  sensible 
things  ;  and  though  it  be  also  true  that  I, 
knowing  the  idea  of  an  inch,  can  imagine 
that  length  without  imagining  body,  as 
•well  as  I  can  imagine  a  figure  without 
imagining  body,  —  yet  it  is  no  more  true 
that  there  is  any  real  distance  in  that  which 
we  call  imagiuar3r  space,  than  that  there 
is  any  real  figure  there."  —  p.  185. 

I  confess  myself  wholly  at  a  loss  how 
to  reconcile  such  notions  of  space  and  dis- 
tance, not  only  with  geometry,  but  dyna- 
mics ;  the  idea  of  velocity  involving  that 
of  mere  extension  in  a  straight  line,  with- 
out the  conception,  necessarily  implied, 
of  any  body  except  the  moving  one.  But 
it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  Locke  appears 
to  have  modified  his  doctrine  here  de- 
livered, before  he  wrote  the  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding;  where  he  argues 
at  length,  in  language  adapted  to  the 
common  belief  of  the  reality  of  space,  and 
once  only  observes  that  some  may  ''  take 
it  to  be  only  a  relation  resulting  from  the 
existence  of  other  beings  at  a  distance, 
•while  others  understand  the  words  of 
Solomon  and  St.  Paul  in  a  literal  sense  " 
(b.  ii.  c.  13,  §  27) ;  by  which  singular  re- 
ference to  Scripture  he  may  perhaps  inti- 
mate that  he  does  not  perceive  the  force 
of  the  metaphysical  argument.  I  think  it 
not  impossible  that  the  reading  of  Newton, 
who  had  so  emphatically  pronounced  hiuv- 
eelf  for  the  real  existence  of  absolute  spare, 
Vad  so  far  an  effect  upon  the  mind  of 


Locke  that  ho  did  not  commit  himself 
to  an  opposite  hypothesis.  Except  with  a 
very  few  speculative  men,  I  believe  the 
conviction,  that  space  exists  truly  and  in- 
dependently around  us,  to  be  universal 
in  mankind. 

Locke  was  a  philosopher,  equally  bold 
in  following  up  his  own  inquiries,  and 
cautious  in  committing  them,  except  as 
mere  conjectures,  to  the  public.  Perhaps 
an  instance  might  be  given  from  the  re- 
markable anticipation  of  the  theory  of 
Boscovich  as  to  the  nature  of  matter,  which 
Stewart  has  sagaciously  inferred  from  a 
passage  in  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Un- 
derstanding. But  if  we  may  trust  an 
anecdote  in  the  Bibliotheque  Raisonnee, 
vol.  iv.  p.  350,  on  the  authority  of  Coste, 
the  French  translator  of  that  work,  New- 
ton conceived  the  idea  of  Boscovich's 
theory,  and  suggested  it  to  Locke.  The 
quotation  ia  in  the  words  of  the  trans- 
lator:— 

"Ici  M.  Locke  excite  notre  curiosit6 
sans  vouloir  la  satisfaire.  Bien  des  gens 
s'etant  imagines  qu'il  m'avait  communi- 
que cette  inaniere  d'expliquer  la  creation 
de  la  matiere,  me  priereut,  peu  de  temps 
apres  que  ma  traduction  eut  vu  le  jour, 
de  leur  en  faire  part ;  mais  je  fus  oblige  de 
leur  avouer  que  M.  L.  m'en  avait  fait 
un  secret  i  moi-meme.  Enfin,  longtemps 
aprcs  sa  mort,  M.  le  Chevalier  Newton,  a 
qui  je  parlais,  par  hasard,  de  cet  endroit 
du  livre  de  M.  Locke,  me  decouvrit  tout 
le  mystere.  Souriant,  il  me  dit  d'abord, 
que  c'etait  lui-meme  qui  avait  imagine 
cette  inaniere  d'expliquer  la  creation  de  la 
matiere ;  que  la  pensee  lui  en  etait  venue 
dans  1'esprit,  un  jour  qu'il  vint  4  tomber 
sur  cette  question  avec  M.  L.  et  un  seig- 
neur Anglais  plein  de  vie,  et  qui  n'est  pas 
moins  illustre  par  1'etendue  de  ses  lumieres 
que  par  sa  naissance.  Et  voici  comment 
il  leur  expliqua  sa  pensee.  '  On  pouvait,' 
dit-il,  '  se  former,  en  quelque  maniere, 
une  idee  de  la  creation  de  la  matiere,  en 
supposant  que  Dieu  eut  empeche  par  sa 
puissance,  que  rieu  ne  put  entrerdans  uue 
certaine  portion  de  1'espace  pur,  que,  de  sa 
nature,  est  penetrable,  eternel,  necessaire, 
infini;  car  des-l-i  cette  portion  d'espace 
aurait  I'impenetrabilite,  1'une  des  quali- 
tes  essentielles  a  la  matiere.  Et  cornme 
1'espace  pur  est  absolumqpt  uniformo, 
on  n'a  qu'-i  supposer  ^ue  Dieu  anrait 
communique  cette  espece  d'impenetra- 
bilite  i  une  autre  pareille  portion  de  1'es 
pace,  et  cela  nous  donnerait,  en  quelqu» 
sortc,  uue  ideede  la  inobilite  de  la  matiere, 
autre  qualite  qui  lui  est  aussi  tres-essen- 
tiello.'  Nous  voili  maintenant  delivres  da 


136 


INNATE  IDEAS. 


PART  IV 


before  him,  assigned  another  origin  to  one  class  of  ideas ;  but 
these  were  few  in  number,  and  in  the  next  century  two  writers 
of  considerable  influence,  Hartley  and  Condillac,  attempted  to 
resolve  them  ah1  into  sensation.  The  ancient  school  of  the 
Platonists,  and  even  that  of  Descartes,  who  had  distinguished 
innate  ideas,  or  at  least  those  spontaneously  suggesting  them- 
selves on  occasion  of  visible  objects  from  those  strictly  belong- 
ing to  sense,  lost  ground  both  in  France  and  England;  nor 
had  Leibnitz,  who  was  deemed  an  enemy  to  some  of  our  great 
English  names,  sufficient  weight  to  restore  it.  In  the  hands 
of  some  who  followed  in  both  countries,  the  worst  phrases  of 
Locke  were  preferred  to  the  best :  whatever  could  be  turned 
to  the  account  of  Pyrrhonism,  materialism,  or  atheism,  made  a 
figure  in  the  Epicurean  system  of  a  popular  philosophy.1  The 
German  metaphysicians  from  the  time  of  Kant  deserve  at 
least  the  credit  of  having  successfully  withstood  this  coarse 


chercher  ce  que  M.  L.  avait  trouve  bon 
de  cacher  a  ses  lecteurs."  —  Bibl.  Kaison- 
ne,  vol.  iv.  p.  349. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  observe  what  honor 
the  conjecture  of  Stewart  does  to  his  saga- 
city ;  for  he  was  not  very  likely  to  have 
fallen  on  this  passage  in  an  old  review 
little  read,  nor  was  he  a  man  to  conceal  the 
obligation,  had  he  done  so.  The  theory 
of  Boscovich,  or,  as  we  may  perhaps  now 
say,  of  Newton,  has  been  lately  supported, 
with  abundance  of  new  illustration,  by 
the  greatest  genius  in  philosophical  dis- 
covery whom  this  age  and  country  can 
boast.  I  will  conclude  with  throwing  out  a 
suggestion,  whether  on  the  hypothesis  that 
matter  is  only  a  combination  of  forces, 
attractive  or  repulsive,  and  varying  in  dif- 
ferent substances  or  bodies,  as  they  are 
vulgarly  called,  inasmuch  as  all  forces 
are  capable  of  being  mathematically  ex- 
pressed, there  is  not  a  proper  formula 
belonging  to  each  body,  though  of  course 
not  assignable  by  us,  which  might  be 
called  its  equation,  and  which,  if  known, 
would  be  the  definition  of  its  essence,  as 
strictly  as  that  of  a  geometrical  figure.  — 
1847.] 

1  [" Locke,"  says  M.  Cousin,  "has  cer- 
tainly not  confounded  sensation  with  the 
fliculties  of  the  mind :  he  expressly  dis- 
tinguishes them,  but  he  makes  the  latter 
play  a  secondary  and  insignificant  part, 
and  concentres  their  action  on  sensible 
data:  it  was  but  a  step  from  thence  to 
confound  them  with  sensibility  ;  and  we 
have  here  the  feeble  germ  of  a  future 
theory,  that  of  transformed  sensation,  of 
sensation  as  the  only  principle  of  all  the 
operations  of  the  mind.  Locke,  without 


knowing  or  designing  it,  has  opened  the 
road  to  this  exclusive  doctrine,  by  adding 
nothing  to  sensation  but  faculties  whose 
whole  business  is  to  exercise  themselves 
upon  it  with  no  peculiar  or  original  pow- 
er."—  Hist,  de  la  Philos.,  vol.  ii.  p.  137. 

If  the  powers  of  combining,  comparing, 
and  generalizing  the  ideas  originally  de- 
rived from  sense  are  not  to  be  called  pe- 
culiar and  original,  this  charge  might  be 
sustained.  But  though  Locke  had  not 
the  same  views  of  the  active  and  self-ori- 
ginated powers  of  the  mind  which  have 
been  taken  by  others,  if  he  derived  some 
ideas  from  sense  to  which  a  different  source 
has  been  assigned,  it  seems  too  much  to 
say  that  he  makes  the  faculties  play  a 
secondary  ami  insignificant  part;  when 
the  part  he  attributes  to  them  is  that  of 
giving  us  all  our  knowledge  beyond  that 
of  mere  simple  sense ;  and,  to  use  his  own 
analogy,  being  to  sensation  what  the  uoviU 
of  a  language,  in  all  their  combinations, 
are  to  the  letters  which  compose  them. 
M.  Cousin,  and  the  other  antagonists  of 
Locke,  will  not  contend  that  we  couli] 
have  had  any  knowledge  of  geometry  or 
arithmetic  without  sensation ;  and  Locke 
has  never  supposed  that  we  could  have  so 
much  as  put  two  ideas  of  extension  or 
number  together  without  the  active  pow- 
ers of  the  mind.  In  this  point  I  see  no 
other  difference  between  the  two  schools, 
than  that  one  derives  a  few  ideas  from 
sense,  which  the  other  cannot  trace  to  that 
source ;  and  this  is  hardly  sufficient  to 
warrant  the  depreciation  of  Locke  as  a 
false  and  dangerous  guide  in  philosophy.  — 
1847.] 


CHAP,  m       LOCKE'S  NOTIONS  AS  TO  THE  SOUL.  137 

sensualism ;  though  they  may  have  borrowed  much  that  their 
disciples  take  for  original,  and  added  much  that  is  hardly  bet- 
ter than  what  they  have  overthrown.  France  has  also  made 
a  rapid  return  since  the  beginning  of  this  century,  and  with 
more  soundness  of  judgment  than  Germany,  towards  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Cartesian  school.  Yet  the  opposite  philosophy 
to  that  which  never  rises  above  sensible  images  is  exposed  to 
a  danger  of  its  own ;  it  is  one  which  the  infirmity  of  the 
human  faculties  renders  perpetually  at  hand :  few  there  are, 
who.  in  reasoning  on  subjects  where  we  cannot  attain  what 
Locke  has  called  "  positive  comprehensive  ideas,"  are  secure 
from  falling  into  mere  nonsense  and  repugnancy.  In  that 
part  of  physics  which  is  simply  conversant  with  quantity,  this 
danger  is  probably  not  great ;  but,  in  all  such  inquiries  as  are 
sometimes  called  transcendental,  it  has  perpetually  shipwrecked 
the  adventurous  navigator. 

114.  In  the  language  and  probably  the  notions  of  Locke 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  soul,  there  is  an  indistinct-  ffignotion8 
ness  more  worthy  of  the  Aristotelian  schoolmen  than  as  to  the 
of  one  conversant  with  the  Cartesian  philosophy.  80u1' 
"  Bodies,"  he  says,  "  manifestly  produce  ideas  in  us  by  impulse ; 
the  only  way  which  we  can  conceive  bodies  to  operate  in.  If, 
then,  external  objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds,  when  they 
produce  ideas  in  it,  and  yet  we  perceive  these  original  quali- 
ties in  such  of  them  as  singly  fall  under  our  senses,  it  is 
evident  that  some  motion  must  be  thence  continued  by  our 
nerves,  or  animal  spirits,  by  some  parts  of  our  bodies  to  the 
brain,  or  the  seat  of  sensation,  there  to  produce  in  our  minds 
the  particular  ideas  we  have  of  them.  And  since  the  exten- 
sion, figure,  number,  and  motion  of  bodies  of  an  observable 
bigness  may  be  perceived  at  a  distance  by  the  sight,  it  is  evi- 
dent some  singly  imperceptible  bodies  must  come  from  them 
to  the  eyes,  and  thereby  convey  to  the  brain  some  motion 
which  produces  those  ideas  which  we  have  of  them  in  us." 
He  so  far  retracts  his  first  position  afterwards  as  to  admit,  "in 
consequence  of  what  Mr.  Newton  has  shown  in  the  Principia 
on  the  gravitation  of  matter  towards  matter,"  that  God  not 
only  can  put  into  bodies  powers  and  ways  of  operation  above 
what  can  be  explained  from  what  we  know  of  matter,  but  that 
he  has  actually  done  so.  And  he  promises  to  correct  the 
former  passage ;  which,  however,  he  has  never  performed.  In 
fact,  he  seems,  by  the  use  of  phrases  which  recur  too  often  to 


138  LOCKE'S  NOTIONS  AS  TO  THE  SOUL.       PART  IV. 

be  thought  merely  figurative,  to  have  supposed  that  something 
in  the  brain  comes  into  local  contact  with  the  mind.  He  was 
here  unable  to  divest  himself,  any  more  than  the  schoolmen 
had  done,  of  the  notion  that  there  is  a  proper  action  of  the 
body  on  the  soul  in  perception.  The  Cartesians  had  brought 
in  the  theory  of  occasional  causes  and  other  solutions  of  the 
phenomena,  so  as  to  avoid  what  seems  so  irreconcilable  with 
an  immaterial  principle.  No  one  is  so  lavish  of  a  cerebral 
instrumentality  in  mental  images  as  Malebranche ;  he  seems 
at  every  moment  on  the  verge  of  materialism ;  he  coquets,  as 
it  were,  with  an  Epicurean  physiology:  but,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  continue  the  metaphor,  he  perceives  the -moment 
where  to  stop,  and  retires,  like  a  dexterous  fair  one,  with 
unsmirched  honor  to  his  immateriality.  It  cannot  be  said 
that  Locke  is  equally  successful. 

115.  In  another  and  a  well-known  passage,  he  has  thrown 
And  its  im-  out  a  doubt  whether  God  might  not  superadd  the 
materiality.  facuity  of  thinking  to  matter ;  and,  though  he  thinks 
it  probable  that  this  has  not  been  the  case,  leaves  it  at  last  a 
debatable  question,  wherein  nothing  else  than  presumptions 
are  to  be  had.     Yet  he  has  strongly  argued  against  the  possi- 
bility of  a  material   Deity  upon   reasons   derived  from   the 
nature  of  matter.     Locke  almost  appears  to  have  taken  the 
union  of  a  thinking  being  with  matter  for  the  thinking  of 
matter  itself.     What  is  there,  Stillingfleet  well  asks,  like  self- 
consciousness  in  matter?     "Nothing  at  all,"  Locke   replies, 
"in  matter  as  matter.     But  that  God  cannot  bestow  on  some 
parcels   of  matter   a   power   of  thinking,  and  with   it  self- 
consciousness,  will  never  be  proved  by  asking  how  it  is  possi- 
ble to  apprehend  that  mere  body  should  perceive  that  it  doth 
perceive."     But  if  that  we  call  mind,  and  of  which  we  are 
self-conscious,  were  thus  superadded  to  matter,  would  it  the 
less  be  something  real  ?     In  what  sense  can  it  be  compared 
to  an  accident  or  quality?     It  has  been  justly  observed,  that 
we  are  much  more  certain  of  the  independent  existence  of 
mind  than  of  that  of  matter.     But  that,  by  the  constitution 
of  our  nature,  a  definite  organization,  or,  what  will  be  gene- 
rally thought  the  preferable  hypothesis,  an  organic  molecule, 
should  be  a  necessary  concomitant  of  this  immaterial  princi- 
ple, does  not  involve  any  absurdity  at  all,  whatever  want  of 
evidence  may  be  objected  to  it. 

116.  It  is  remarkable,  that,  in  the  controversy  with  Stilling- 


CHAP.  HI.    HTS  LOVE  OF  TRUTH  AXD  ORIGINALITY  139 

fleet  on  this  passage,  Locke  seems  to  take  for  granted,  that 
there  is  no  immaterial  principle  in  brutes ;  and,  as  he  had  too 
much  plain  sense  to  adopt  the  Cartesian  theory  of  their  insen- 
sibility, he  draws  the  most  plausible  argument  for  the  possi- 
bility of  thought  in  matter  by  the  admitted  fact  of  sensation 
and  voluntary  motion  in  these  animal  organizations.  "It  is 
not  doubted  but  that  the  properties  of  a  rose,  a  peach,  or  an 
elephant,  superadded  to  matter,  change  not  the  properties  of 
matter;  but  matter  is,  in  these  things,  matter  still."  Few 
perhaps  at  present  who  believe  in  the  immateriality  of  the 
human  soul  would  deny  the  same  to  an  elephant ;  but  it  must 
be  owned  that  the  discoveries  of  zoology  have  pushed  this  to 
consequences  which  some  might  not  readily  adopt.  The 
spiritual  being  of  a  sponge  revolts  a  little  our  prejudices ;  yet 
there  is  no  resting-place,  and  we  must  admit  this,  or  be 
content  to  sink  ourselves  into  a  mass  of  medullary  fibre. 
Brutes  have  been  as  slowly  emancipated  in  philosophy  as 
some  classes  of  mankind  have  been  in  civil  polity :  their  souls, 
we  see,  were  almost  universally  disputed  to  them  at  the  end 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  even  by  those  who  did  not  abso- 
lutely bring  them  down  to  machinery.  Even  within  the 
recollection  of  many,  it  was  common  to  deny  them  any  kind 
of  reasoning  faculty,  and  to  solve  their  most  sagacious  actions 
by  the  vague  word  "instinct."  We  have  come  of  late  years 
to  think  better  of  our  humble  companions ;  and,  as  usual  in 
similar  cases,  the  predominant  bias,  at  least  with  foreign  natu- 
ralists, seems  rather  too  much  of  a  levelling  character. 

117.  No  quality  more  remarkably  distinguishes  Locke  than 
his  love  of  truth.  He  is  of  no  sect  or  party ;  has  no  ^  love  of 
oblique  design,  such  as  we  so  frequently  perceive,  of  truth,  and 
sustaining  some  tenet  which  he  suppresses ;  no  sub-  01 
missiveness  to  the  opinions  of  others,  nor,  what  very  few  lay 
aside,  to  his  own.  Without  having  adopted  certain  dominant 
ideas,  like  Descartes  and  Malebranche,  he  follows,  with  inflexi- 
ble impartiality  and  unwearied  patience,  the  long  process  of 
analysis  to  which  he  has  subjected  the  human  mind.  No 
great  writer  has  been  more  exempt  from  vanity,  in  which  he 
is  very  advantageously  contrasted  with  Bacon  and  Descartes : 
but  he  is  sometimes  a  little  sharp,  and  contemptuous  of  his 
predecessors.  The  originality  of  Locke  is  real  and  unaffect- 
ed :  not  that  he  has  derived  nothing  from  others,  which  would 
be  a  great  reproach  to  himself  or  to  them ;  but,  in  whatever  he 


140  LOCKE'S  ORIGINALITY.  PART  IV. 

has  in  common  with  other  philosophers,  there  is  always  a 
tinge  of  his  own  thoughts,  a  modification  of  the  particular 
tenet,  or  at  least  a  peculiarity  of  language  which  renders  it 
not  very  easy  of  detection.  "It  was  not  to  he  expected," 
says  Stewart,  "that  in  a  work  so  composed  by  snatches,  to 
borrow  a  phrase  of  the  author,  he  should  be  able  accurately 
to  draw  the  line  between  his  own  ideas  and  the  hints  for 
which  he  was  indebted  to  others.  To  those  who  are  well 
acquainted  with  his  speculations,  it  must  appear  evident  that 
he  had  studied  diligently  the  metaphysical  writings  both  of 
Hobbes  and  Gassendi,  and  that  he  was  no  stranger  to  the 
Essays  of  Montaigne,  to  the  philosophical  works  of  Bacon, 
and  to  Malebranche's  Inquiry  after  Truth.  That  he  was 
familiarly  conversant  with  the  Cartesian  system  may  be 
presumed  from  what  we  are  told  by  his  biographer,  that  it 
was  this  which  first  inspired  him  with  a  disgust  at  the  jargon 
of  the  schools,  and  led  him  into  that  train  of  thinking  which 
he  afterwards  prosecuted  so  successfully.  I  do  not,  however, 
recollect  that  he  has  anywhere  in  his  Essay  mentioned  the 
name  of  any  one  of  those  authors.  It  is  probable,  that,  when 
he  sat  down  to  write,  he  found  the  result  of  his  youthful  read- 
ing so  completely  identified  with  the  fruits  of  his  subsequent 
reflections,  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  attempt  a  separa- 
tion of  the  one  from  the  other,  and  that  he  was  thus  occasion- 
ally led  to  mistake  the  treasures  of  memory  for  those  of 
invention.  That  this  was  really  the  case,  may  be  further 
presumed  from  the  peculiar  and  original  cast  of  his  phraseolo- 
gy, which,  though  in  general  careless  and  unpolished,  has 
always  the  merit  of  that  characteristical  unity  and  raciness  of 
style  which  demonstrate,  that,  while  he  was  writing,  he  con- 
ceived himself  to  be  drawing  only  from  his  own  resources." 1 

118.  The  writer,  however,  whom  we  have  just  quoted,  lias 
Defended  in  not  quite  done  justice  to  the  originality  of  Locke  in 
two  cases.  more  than  one  instance.  Thus  on  this  very  passage 
we  find  a  note  in  these  words :  "  Mr.  Addison  has  re- 
marked, that  Malebranche  had  the  start  of  Locke  by  several 
years  in  his  notions  on  the  subject  of  duration.  Some  other 
coincidences  not  less  remarkable  might  be  easily  pointed  out 
in  the  opinions  of  the  English  and  of  the  French  philosopher." 
I  am  not  prepared  to  dispute,  nor  do  I  doubt,  the  truth  of  the 
latter  sentence ;  but,  with  respect  to  the  notions  of  Male- 

1  Preliminary  Dissertation. 


CHAP.  in.  DEFINITION  OF   SIMPLE  IDEAS.  141 

branche  and  Locke  on  duration,  it  must  be  said,  that  they  are 
neither  the  same,  nor  has  Addison  asserted  them  to  be  so.1 
The  one  threw  out  an  hypothesis  with  no  attempt  at  proof: 
the  other  offered  an  explanation  of  the  phenomena.  What 
Locke  has  advanced  as  to  our  getting  the  idea  of  duration  by 
reflecting  on  the  succession  of  our  ideas  seems  to  be  truly  his 
own.  Whether  it  be  entirely  the  right  explanation,  is  another 
question.  It  rather  appears  to  me,  that  the  internal  sense,  as 
we  may  not  improperly  call  it,  of  duration,  belongs  separately 
to  each  idea,  and  is  rather  lost  than  suggested  by  their  succes- 
sion. Duration  is  best  perceived  when  we  are  able  to  detain 
an  idea  for  some  time  without  change,  as  in  watching  the 
motion  of  a  pendulum ;  and,  though  it  is  impossible  for  the 
mind  to  continue  in  this  state  of  immobility  more  perhaps 
than  about  a  second  or  two,  this  is  sufficient  to  give  us  an 
idea  of  duration  as  the  necessary  condition  of  existence. 
Whether  this  be  an  objective  or  merely  a  subjective  necessity, 
is  an  abstruse  question,  which  our  sensations  do  not  enable  us 
to  decide.  But  Locke  appears  to  have  looked  rather  at  the 
measure  of  duration,  by  which  we  divide  it  into  portions,  than 
at  the  mere  simplicity  of  the  idea  itself.  Such  a  measure,  it 
is  certain,  can  only  be  obtained  through  the  medium  of  a  suc- 
cession in  our  ideas. 

119.  It  has  been  also  remarked  by  Stewart,  that  Locke 
claims   a   discovery  due   rather   to    Descartes ;   namely,  the 
impossibility  of  defining  simple  ideas.     Descartes,  however, 
as  well  as  the  authors  of  the  Port-Royal  Logic,  merely  says, 
that  words  already  as  clear  as  we  can  make  them   do   not 
require  or  even  admit  of  definition.     But  I  do  not  perceive 
that  he  has  made  the  distinction  we  find  in  the  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding,  that  the  names  of  simple  ideas  are 
not  capable  of  any  definition,  while  the  names  of  all  complex 
ideas  are  so.     "It  has  not,  that  I  know,"  Locke  says,  "been 
observed  by  anybody  what  words  are,  and  what  words  are 
not,  capable  of  being  defined."     The  passage  which  I  have 
quoted  in  another  place  from  Descartes'  posthumous  dialogue, 
even  if  it  went  to  this  length,  was  unknown  to  Locke ;  yet  he 
might  have  acknowledged  that  he  had  been  in  some  measure, 
anticipated,  in  other  observations  by  that  philosopher. 

120.  The  first  book  of  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing is  directed,  as  is  well  known,  against  the  doctrine 

»  Spectator,  No.  94. 


112  LOCKE'S  VIEW  OF  IXNATE  IDEAS.          PART  IV 

of  innate  ideas,  or  innate  principles  in  the  mind.  This  has 
His  view  been  often  censured,  as  combating  in  some  places  a 
of  innate  tenet  which  no  one  would  support,  and  as,  in  other 
passages,  breaking  in  upon  moral  distinctions  them- 
selves, by  disputing  the  universality  of  their  acknowledg- 
ment. With  respect  to  the  former  charge,  it  is  not  perhaps 
easy  for  us  to  determine  what  might  be  the  crude  and  con- 
fused notions,  or  at  least  language,  of  many  who  held  the 
theory  of  innate  ideas.  It  is  by  no  means  evident,  that  Locke 
had  Descartes  chiefly  or  even  at  all  in  his  view.  Lord  Her- 
bert, whom  he  distinctly  answers,  and  many  others,  especially 
the  Platonists,  had  dwelt  upon  innate  ideas  in  far  stronger 
terms  than  the  great  French  metaphysician,  if  indeed  he  can 
be  said  to  have  maintained  them  at  all.  The  latter  and  more 
important  accusation  rests  upon  no  other  pretext  than  that 
Locke  must  be  reckoned  among  those  who  have  not  admitted 
a  moral  faculty  of  discerning  right  from  wrong  to  be  a  part  of 
our  constitution.  But  that  there  is  a  law  of  nature  imposed 
by  the  Supreme  Being,  and  consequently  universal,  has  been 
BO  repeatedly  asserted  in  his  writings,  that  it  would  imply 
great  inattention  to  question  it.  Stewart  has  justly  vindicat- 
ed Locke  in  this  respect  from  some  hasty  and  indefinite 
charges  of  Beattie  ;J  but  I  must  venture  to  think  that  he  goes 
much  too  far  when  he  attempts  to  identify  the  doctrines  of 
the  Essay  with  those  of  Shaftesbury.  These  two  philosophers 
were  in  opposite  schools  as  to  the  test  of  moral  sentiments. 
Locke  seems  always  to  adopt  what  is  called  the  selfish  system 
in  morals,  resolving  all  morality  into  religion,  and  all  religion 
into  a  regard  to  our  own  interest;  and  he  seems  to  have 
paid  less  attention  to  the  emotions  than  to  the  intellectual 
powers  of  the  soul. 

121.  It  would  by  no  means  be  difficult  to  controvert  other 
General  tenets  of  this  great  man.  But  the  obligations  we 
praise.  owe  j.Q  jjjm  for  ^g  j£ssav  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing are  never  to  be  forgotten.  It  is  truly  the  first  real 
chart  of  the  coasts,  wherein  some  may  be  laid  down  incor- 
rectly, but  the  general  relations  of  all  are  perceived.  And 
we,  who  find  some  things  to  censure  in  Locke,  have  perhaps 
learned  how  to  censure  them  from  himself;  we  Have  thrown 

1  [To   the  passages  quoted  by  Stewart  dares  his  belief,  "  that  there  is  a  law  of 

(First  Dissertation,  p.  29)  we  may  add  a  nature  knowable  by  the  light  of  nature." 

letter,  since  published,  of  Locke  to  Mr.  -~-  King's  Life  of  Locke,  vol.  i.  p   366.  — 

Tyrrell,  wherein  he  most  explicitly  de-  1847.] 


CHAP.  m. 


GENERAL  PRAISE. 


143 


off  so  many  false  notions  and  films  of  prejudice  by  his  help, 
that -we  are  become  capable  of  judging'  our  master.  This  is 
what  has  been  the  fate  of  all  who  have  pushed  onward  the 
landmarks  of  science :  they  have  made  that  easy  for  inferior 
men  which  was  painfully  labored  through  by  themselves. 
Among  many  excellent  things  in  the  Essay  on  Human  Un- 
derstanding, none  are  more  admirable  than  much  of  the  third 
book  on  the  nature  of  words,  especially  the  three  chapters  on 
their  imperfection  and  abuse.1  In  earlier  treatises  of  logic,  at 
least  in  that  of  Port-Royal,  some  of  this  might  be  found; 
but  nowhere  are  verbal  fallacies',  and,  above  all,  the  sources 
from  which  they  spring,  so  fully  and  conclusively  exposed.2 


1  [In  former  editions  I  had  said  "the 
whole  third  book,"  which  Mr.  Mill  calls 
"  that  immortal  third  book."     But  we 
must  except  the  sixth  chapter  on   the 
names  of  substances,  in  which  Locke's 
reasoning  against  the  real  distinction  of 
species  in  the  three  kingdoms  of  nature 
is  full  of  false  assumptions,  and  cannot  be 
maintained  at  all  in  the  present  state  of 
natural  history.     He  asks,  ch.  vi.  §  13, 
"  What  are  the  alterations  may  or  may 
not  be  in  a  horse  or  lead,  without  making 
either  of  them  to  be  of  another  species  ?  " 
The  answer  is   obvious,   that  an  animal 
engendered  between  a  horse  and  mare  is  a 
horse,  and  no  other  ;  and  that  any  altera- 
tion in  the  atomic  weight  of  lead  would 
make  it  a  different  species.     "  I  once  saw 
a  creature,"  says  Locke,  "  that  was  the 
issue  of  a  cat  and  a  rat,  and  had  the  plain 
marks  of  both  about  it."    This  cannot  be 
true ;   but,  if  it  were,  are  there,  therefore, 
no  mere  cats  and  mere  rats?  — 1847.] 

2  [A  highly  distinguished  philosopher, 
M.  Cousin,  has  devoted  nearly  a  volume 
to  the  refutation  of  Locke,  discussing  al- 
most  every  chapter  hi  the  second  and 
fourth  books  of  the  Essay  on  Human  Un- 
derstanding.   In  many  of  these  treatises, 
I  cannot  by  any  means  go  along  with  the 
able  writer  ;  and  regret  that  he  has  taken 
so  little  pains  to  distinguish  real  from 
verbal  differences  of  opinion,  but  has,  on 
the  contrary,  had  nothing  so  much  at 
heart  as  to  depreciate  the  glory  of  one 
whom  Europe  has  long  reckoned  among 
the  founders  of  metaphysical  science.     It 
may  have  been  wrong  in  Locke  to  employ 
the  word  idea  in  different  senses.     But, 
as  undoubtedly  he  did  not  always  mean 
by  it  an  image  in  the  mind,  what  can  be 
less  fair  than  such  passages  as  the  follow- 
ing?—  "Eh  bien  !   songez  y,  vous  n'avez 
de  connaissance  legitime  de  la  pensee,  de 
la  volonte,  de  la  sensibilite,  qu'4  la  con- 
dition que  les  idees  que  vous  en  ayez  vous 


les  representent ;  et  ces  idees  doivent 
etre  des  images,  et  par  consequent  des 
uiiages  materiefles.  Jugez  dans  quelle 
abime  U'absurdites  nous  voila  tombes. 
Pour  connaitre  la  pensee  et  la  volontfi 
qui  sont  immaterielles,  il  faut  que  nous 
en  ayons  une  image  materielle  qui  leur 
resseinble."  —  Cours  de  1'Hist.  de  la  Phi- 
los.,  vol.  ii.  p.  348,  ed.  1829.  It  ought 
surely  to  have  occurred,  that  in  proportion 
to  the  absurdity  of  such  a  proposition 
was  the  want  of  likelihood  that  a  mind 
eminently  cautious  and  reflective  should 
have  embraced  it. 

It  is  not  possible  in  a  note  to  remark  on 
the  many  passages  wherein  M.  Cousin  has 
dealt  no  fair  measure  to  our  illustrious 
metaphysician.  But  one  I  will  not  pass 
over.  He  quotes  Locke  for  the  words : 
"  A  1'egard  des  esprits  (nos  Smes,  les  in- 
telligences) [interpolation  by  M.  Cousin 
himself],  nous  ne  pouvons  pas  plus  con- 
naitre qu'il  y  a  des  esprits  finis  reellement 
existans,  par  les  idees  que  nous  en  avons, 
que  nous  ne  pouvons  connaitre  qu'il  y  a 
des  fees  ou  des  centaures  par  les  idees  que 
nous  nous  en  formons."  "  Voili  bien. 
ce  me  semble,  le  scepticisme  absolu  ;  et 
vous  pensez  peut-etre  que  la  conclusion 
derniere  de  Locke  sera  qu'il  n'y  a  aucune 
connoissance  des  esprits  finis,  par  conse- 
quent de  notre  Sme,  par  consequent  en- 
core d'aucune  des  facultes  de  notre  Sme ; 
car  1'objection  est  aussi  valable  centre  les 
phenomenes  de  I'&ine  que  centre  la  sub- 
stance. C'est  la  oil  il  aurait  du  aboutir; 
mais  il  ne  1'ose,  parce  qu'il  n'y  a  pas 
un  philosophe  a  la  fois  plus  sage  et  plus 
inconsistant  que  Locke.  Que  fait-il,  Mes- 
sieurs ?  J)ans  le  peril  ou  le  pousse  la  phi- 
losophic, iJ  abandonne  sa  philosophic  et 
toute  philosophic,  et  il  en  appelle  au 
christianisme,  4  la  revelation,  &  la  foi ;  et 
par  foi,  par  revelation,  il  n'entend  pas  une 
foi,  une  revelation  philosophique  ;  cette 
interpretation  n'appartient  pas  au  temps 


144  LOCKE'S  CONDUCT  OF  UNDERSTANDING.    PART  IV. 

122.  The  same  praiseworthy  diligence  in  hunting  error  to 
,  its  lurking-places  distinguishes  the  short  treatise  on 
Conduct  of  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding;  which,  having 
^ndTn  been  originally  designed  as  an  additional  chapter  to 
the  Essay,1  is  as  it  were  the  ethical  application  of  its 
theory,  and  ought  always  to  be  read  with  it,  if  indeed,  for  the 
sake  of  its  practical  utility,  it  should  not  come  sooner  icto 
the  course  of  education.  Aristotle  himself,  and  the  whole  of 
his  dialectical  school,  had  pointed  out  many  of  the  sophisms 
against  which  we  should  guard  our  reasoning  faculties ;  but 
these  are  chiefly  such  as  others  attempt  to  put  upon  us  in 
dispute.  There  are  more  dangerous  fallacies  by  wliich  we 
cheat  ourselves,  —  prejudice,  partiality,  self-interest,  vanity, 
inattention,  and  indifference  to  truth.  Locke,  who  was  as 
exempt  from  these  as  almost  any  man  who  has  turned  his  mind 
to  so  many  subjects  where  their  influence  is  to  be  suspected, 
has  dwelled  on  the  moral  discipline  of  the  intellect  in  this  trea- 
tise, better,  as  I  conceive,  than  any  of  his  predecessors ;  though 
we  have  already  seen,  and  it  might  appear  far  more  at  length 
to  those  who  should  have  recourse  to  the  books,  that  Arnauld 
and  Malebranche,  besides  other  French  philosophers  of  the 
age,  had  not  been  remiss  in  this  indispensable  part  of  logic. 

de  Locke ;  il  entend  la  foi  et  la  revelation  the  preceding,  the  tenth  chapter,  more 
dans  le  sens  propre  de  la  theologie  la  plus  fully :  "  I  think  it  is  beyond  question  that 
orthodoxe ;  et  il  conclut  ainsi :  '  Par  con-  man  has  a  clear  perception  of  his  own 
sequent,  sur  1'existence  de  1'esprit  nous  being :  he  knows  certainly  that  he  exists, 
devons  nous  contenter  de  l'6vidence  de  la  and  that  he  is  something.  lie  that  can 
foi.'"  —  p.  350.  Who  could  suppose  that  doubt  whether  he  be  any  thing  or  no,  I 
all  this  imputation  of  unlimited  scepti-  speak  not  to,  no  more  than  I  would  argue 
cism,  not  less  than  that  of  Hume,  since  it  with  pure  nothing,  or  endeavor  to  con- 
amounts  to  a  doubt  of  the  existence  of  oar  vince  nonentity  that  it  were  something." 
own  minds,  is  founded  on  M.  Cousin's  Compare  this  with  M.  Cousin's  representa- 
inis understanding  of  the  word  spirit  ?  By  tion. 

spirits,  or  finite  spirits,  Locke  did  not  The  name  of  Locke  is  part  of  our  lite- 
mean  our  own  minds,  but  created  intelli-  rary  inheritance,  which,  as  Englishmen, 
gences,  differing  from  human,  as  the  word  we  cannot  sacrifice.  If,  indeed,  the  uni- 
was  constantly  used  in  theological  meta-  versity  at  which  he  was  educated  cannot 
physics.  The  sense  of  the  passage  to  discover  that  he  is,  perhaps,  her  chief 
•which  M.  Cousin  refers  is  so  clear,  that  no  boast,  if  a  declaimer  from  that  quarter 
English  reader  could  misconceive  it :  pro-  presumes  to  speak  of  "  the  sophist  Locke," 
bably  he  was  led  wrong  by  a  translation  we  may  console  ourselves  by  recollecting 
In  which  he  found  the  word  esprit.  how  little  influence  such  a  local  party  is 
But  I  really  cannot  imagine  any  trans-  likely  to  obtain  over  the  literary  world, 
lation  to  be  so  unfaithful  as  to  remove  But  the  fame  of  M.  Cousin  is  so  conspicu- 
from  M.  Cousin  the  blame  of  extreme  ous,  that  his  prejudices  readily  become 
carelessness.  The  words  of  Locke  are  the  prejudices  of  many,  and  his  misrepre- 
"  Concerning  finite  spirits,  as  well  as  seve-  sentations  pass  with  many  for  unanswera- 
ral  other  things,  we  must  content  our-  ble  criticisms. — 1847.] 
solves  with  the  evidence  of  faith."  —  B.  iv.  *  See  a  letter  to  Molvneux,  dated  April, 
ch.  11.  But,  at  the  beginning  of  the  same  1697;  Locke's  Works  "(foi-  1769),  vol.  iii. 
chapter,  he  says,  "The  knowledge  of  our  p.  639. 
own  being  we  have  by  intuition."  And  in 


CILAP.  HI.  CONDUCT   OF  UNDERSTANDING.  145 

123.  Locke  throughout  this  treatise  labors  to  secure  the 
inquirer  from  that  previous  persuasion  of  his  own   opinion, 
which  generally  renders  all  his  pretended  investigations  of  its 
truth  little  more  than  illusive  and  nugatory.     But  the  indiffer- 
ency  which  he  recommends  to  every  thing  except  truth  itself, 
so  that  we  should  not  even  wish  any  thing  to  be  true  before 
we  have  examined  whether  it  be  so,  seems  to  involve   the 
impossible   hypothesis,  that  man  is  but   a   purely  reasoning 
being.     It  is  vain  to  press  the  recommendation  of  freedom 
from  prejudice  so  far ;  since  we  cannot  but  conceive  some  pro- 
positions to  be  more  connected  with  our  welfare  than  others, 
and  consequently  to  desire  their  truth.     These  exaggerations 
lay  a  fundamental  condition  of  honest  inquiry  open  to  the 
sneers  of  its  adversaries ;  and  it  is  sufficient,  because  nothing 
more  is  really  attainable,  first  to  dispossess  ourselves  of  the 
notion  that  our  interests  are  concerned  where  they  are  not ; 
and  next,  even  when  we  cannot  but  wish  one  result  of  our 
inquiries  rather  than  another,  to  be  the  more  unremitting  in 
our  endeavors  to  exclude  this  bias  from  our  reasoning. 

124.  I  cannot  think  any  parent  or  instructor  justified  in 
neglecting  to  put  this  little  treatise  in  the  hands  of  a  boy 
about  the  time  when  the  reasoning  faculties  become  developed. 
It  will  give  him  a  sober  and   serious,  not  flippant   or   self- 
conceited,  independency  of  thinking;    and  while   it   teaches 
how  to  distrust  ourselves,  and  to  watch  those  prejudices  which 
necessarily  grow  up  from  one  cause  or  another,  will  inspire  a 
reasonable   confidence  in  what  he   has  well   considered,  by 
taking  off  a  little  of  that  deference  to  authority,  which  is  the 
more  to  be  regretted  in  its  excess,  that  like  its  cousin-german, 
party-spirit,  it  is  frequently  united  to  loyalty  of  heart  and  the 
generous  enthusiasm  of  youth. 


%t)L.  IT.  10 


146  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  PART  IV. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HISTORY  OF  MORAL  AND  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  AND  OF 
JURISPRUDENCE,  FROM  1660  TO  1700. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Pascal's  Provincial  Letters  —  Taylor  —  Cudworth  —  Spinosa  —  Cumberland's  Law  of 
Nature  —  Puffendorfs  Treatise  on  the  same  Subject  —  Rochefoucault  and  La  Bru- 
yere — Locke  on  Education  —  Feuelon. 

1.  THE  casuistical  writers  of  the  Roman  Church,  and  espe- 
Caauistry  cially  of  the  Jesuit  order,  belong  to  earlier  periods ; 
of  theje-  for  little  room  was  left  for  any  thing  but  popular 
compilations  from  large  works  of  vast  labor  and 
accredited  authority.  But  the  false  principles  imputed  to  the 
latter  school  now  raised  a  louder  cry  than  before.  Implacable 
and  unsparing  enemies,  as  well  as  ambitious  intriguers  them- 
selves, they  were  encountered  by  a  host  of  those  who  envied, 
feared,  and  hated  them.  Among  those,  none  were  such  will- 
Pascai's  iQ&  or  aWe  accusers  as  the  Jansenists  whom  they 
Provincial  persecuted.  Pascal,  by  his  Provincial  Letters,  did 

*rs'  more  to  ruin  the  name  of  Jesuit  than  all  the  contro- 
versies of  Protestantism,  or  all  the  fulminations  of  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris.  A  letter  of  Antony  Arnauld,  published  in 
1 655,  wherein  he  declared  that  he  could  not  find  in  Jansenius 
the  propositions  condemned  by  the  pope,  and  laid  himself 
open  to  censure  by  some  of  his  own,  provoked  the  Sorbonne, 
of  which  he  was  a  member,  to  exclude  him  from  the  faculty 
of  theology.  Before  this  resolution  was  taken,  Pascal  came 
forward  in  defence  of  his  friend,  under  a  fictitious  name,  in 
the  first  of  what  have  been  always  called  Lettres  Provin- 
ciales,  but  more  accurately,  Lettres  ecrites  par  Louis  de 
Montalte  a  un  Provincial  de  ses  Amis.  In  the  first  four  of 
them,  he  discusses  the  thorny  problems  of  Jansenism,  aiming 


CHAP.  IV.     PASCAL'S  PROVINCIAL  LETTERS.         147 

chiefly  to  show  that  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  had  maintained  the 
lame  doctrine  on  efficacious  grace  which  his  disciples  the 
Dominicans  now  rejected  from  another  quarter.  But  he 
passed  from  hence  to  a  theme  more  generally  intelligible  and 
interesting,  the  false  morality  of  the  Jesuit  casuists.  He  has 
accumulated  so  long  a  list  of  scandalous  decisions,  and  dwelled 
upon  them  with  so  much  wit  and  spirit,  and  yet  with  so 
lerious  a  severity,  that  the  order  of  Loyola  became  a  by- 
word with  mankind.  I  do  not  agree  with  those  who  think 
Jhe  Provincial  Letters  a  greater  proof  of  the  genius  of  Pascal 
than  his  Thoughts,  in  spite  of  the  many  weaknesses  in  rea- 
soning which  these  display.  The  former  are  at  present,  finely 
written  as  all  confess  them  to  be,  too  much  filled  with  obsolete 
controversy,  they  quote  books  too  much  forgotten,  they  have 
too  little  bearing  on  any  permanent  sympathies,  to  be  read 
with  much  interest  or  pleasure. 

2.  The  Jesuits  had,  unfortunately  for  themselves,  no  writers, 
at  that  time,  of  sufficient  ability  to  defend  them ;  and,  ^^  truth 
being  disliked  by  many  who  were  not  Jansenists,  questioned 
could  make  little  stand  against  their  adversaries,  till  y  K 
public  opinion  had  already  taken  its  line.  They  have  since 
not  failed  to  charge  Pascal  with  extreme  misrepresentation  of 
their  eminent  casuists,  Escobar,  Busenbaum,  and  many  others ; 
so  that  some  later  disciples  of  their  school  have  ventured  to 
call  the  Provincial  Letters  the  immortal  liars  (les  immortelles 
menteuses).  It  has  been  insinuated,  since  Pascal's  veracity 
is  hard  to  attack,  that  he  was  deceived  by  those  from  whom 
he  borrowed  his  quotations.  But  he  has  himself  declared,  in 
a  remarkable  passage,  not  only  that,  far  from  repenting  of 
these  letters,  he  would  make  them  yet  stronger  if  it  were  to 
be  done  again,  but  that,  although  he  had  not  read  all  the 
books  he  has  quoted,  else  he  must  have  spent  great  part 
of  his  life  in  reading  bad  books,  yet  he  had  read  Escobar 
twice  through;  and,  with  respect  to  the  rest,  he  had  not 
quoted  a  single  passage  without  having  seen  it  in  the  book, 
and  examined  the  context  before  and  after,  that  he  might  not 
confound  an  objection  with  an  answer,  which  would  have 
been  reprehensible  and  unjust :  *  it  is  therefore  impossible  to 
save  the  honor  of  Pascal,  if  his  quotations  are  not  fair.  Nor 
did  he  stand  alone  in  his  imputations  on  the  Jesuit  casuistry. 
A  book  called  Morale  des  Jesuites,  by  Nicolas  Perj-ault, 

1  (Burres  de  Pascal,  yol.  i.  p.  400 


148  TAYLOR'S  DUCTOR  DUBITANTTTJM.  PART  IV. 

published  at  Mons  in  1667,  goes  over  the  same  ground  with 
less  pleasantry,  but  not  less  learning. 

3.  The  most  extensive  and  learned  work  on  casuistry  which 
}       has  appeared  in  the  English  language  is  the  Ductor 

Ductcr"  Dubituntium  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  published  in  1660. 
tiuin^11"  Tin's,  as  its  title  shows,  treats  of  subjective  morality, 
or  the  guidance  of  the  conscience.  But  this  cannot 
be  much  discussed  without  establishing  some  principles  of 
objective  right  and  wrong,  some  standard  by  which  the  con- 
science is  to  be  ruled.  "  The  whole  measure  and  rule  of 
conscience,"  according  to  Taylor, "  is  the  law  of  God,  or  God's 
will  signified  to  us  by  nature  or  revelation ;  and,  by  the 
several  manners  and  times  and  parts  of  its  communication,  it 
hath  obtained  several  names,  —  the  law  of  nature ;  the  con- 
sent of  nations ;  right  reason ;  the  Decalogue  ;  the  sermon  of 
Christ ;  the  canons  of  the  apostles ;  the  laws,  ecclesiastical 
and  civil,  of  princes  and  governors ;  fame,  or  the  public  repu- 
tation of  things,  expressed  by  proverbs  and  other  instances 
and  manners  of  public  honesty.  .  .  .  These,  being  the  full 
measures  of  right  and  wrong,  of  lawful  and  unlawful,  will  be 
the  rule  of  conscience  and  the  subject  of  the  present  book." 

4.  The  heterogeneous  combination  of  things  so  different  in 
its  charac-  nature  and  authority,  as  if  they  were  all  expressions 
ter  and       of  the  law  of  God,  does  not  augur  well  for  the  dis- 
tinctness of  Taylor's  moral  philosophy,  and  would  be 

disadvantageously  compared  with  the  Ecclesiastical  Polity  of 
Hooker.  Nor  are  we  deceived  in  the  anticipations  we  might 
draw.  With  many  of  Taylor's  excellences,  his  vast  fertility 
and  his  frequent  acuteness,  the  Ductor  Dubitantium  exhibits 
his  characteristic  defects:  the  waste  of  quotations  is  even 
greater  than  in  his  other  writings,  and  his  own  exuberance 
of  mind  degenerates  into  an  intolerable  prolixity.  His  so- 
lution of  moral  difficulties  is  often  unsatisfactory:  after  an 
accumulation  of  arguments  and  authorities,  we  have  the  dis- 
appointment to  perceive  that  the  knot  is  neither  untied  nor 
cut ;  there  seems  a  want  of  close  investigation  of  principles, 
a  frequent  confusion  and  obscurity,  which  Taylor's  two  chief 
faults — excessive  display  of  erudition,  and  redundancy  of  lan- 
guage —  conspire  to  produce.  Paley  is  no  doubt  often  super- 
ficial, and  sometimes  mistaken ;  yet  in  clearness,  in  conciseness, 
in  freedom  from  impertinent  reference  to  authority,  he  is  far 
superior  to  Taylor. 


CHAP.  IV.       CUDWORTH'S  IMMUTABLE  MORALITY.  149 

5.  Taylor  seems  too  much  inclined  to  side  with  those  who 
resolve  all  right  and  wrong  into  the  positive  will   of  God. 
The  law  of  nature  he  defines  to  be  "  the  universal  law  of  the 
world,  or  of  mankind,  to  which  we  are  inclined  by  nature, 
invited  by  consent,  prompted  by  reason,  but  which  is  bound 
upon  us  only  by  the  command  of  God."    Though,  in  the  strict 
meaning  of  the  word  law,  this  may  be  truly  said,  it  was  surely 
required,   considering  the  large  sense  which  that  word  has 
obtained  as  coincident  with  moral  right,  that  a  fuller  explana- 
tion should  be  given  than  Taylor  has  even  intimated,  lest  the 
goodness  of  the  Deity  should  seem  something  arbitrary  and 
precarious.      And   though,  in  maintaining,  against  most  of 
the  scholastic  metaphysicians,  that   God   can   dispense  with 
the  precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  he  may  be  substantially  right, 
yet  his  reasons  seem  by  no  means  the  clearest  and  most  sat- 
isfactory that  might  be  assigned.      It  may  be  added,  that, 
in  his  prolix  rules  concerning  what  he  calls  a  probable  con- 
Bcience,  he  comes  very  near  to  the  much-decried  theories  of 
the  Jesuits.     There  was  indeed  a  vein  of  subtilty  in  Taylor's 
understanding  which  was  not  always  without  influence  on  his 
candor. 

6.  A  treatise  concerning  eternal  and  immutable  morality, 
by   Cudworth,  was  first  published  in   1731.     This  Cndworth58 
may  be  almost  reckoned  a  portion  of  his  Intellectual  immutable 
System,  the  object  being  what  he  has  declared  to  be  m 

one  of  those  which  he  had  there  in  view.  This  was  to  prove 
that  moral  differences  of  right  and  wrong  are  antecedent  to 
any  divine  law.  He  wrote,  therefore,  not  only  against  the  Cal- 
vinistic  school,  but  in  some  measure  against  Taylor ;  though 
he  abstains  from  mentioning  any  recent  author  except  Des- 
cartes, who  had  gone  far  in  referring  all  moral  distinctions  to 
the  arbitrary  will  of  God.  Cudworth's  reasoning  is  by  no 
means  satisfactory,  and  rests  too  much  on  the  dogmatic  me- 
taphysics which  were  going  out  of  use.  The  nature  or  es- 
sence of  nothing,  he  maintains,  can  depend  upon  the  will  of 
God  alone,  which  is  the  efficient,  but  not  the  formal,  cause 
of  all  things  ;  a  distinction  not  very  intelligible,  but  on  which 
he  seems  to  build  his  theory.1  For,  though  admitting  that 
moral  relations  have  no  objective  existence  out  of  the  mind, 
he  holds  that  they  have  a  positive  essence,  and  therefore  are 
not  nothing :  whence  it  follows  that  they  must  be  independent 

*  p.  15. 


150  NICOLE  — LA  PLACETTE.  PAKT  IV. 

of  will.     He  pours  out  much  ancient  learning,  though  not  so 
lavishly  as  in  the  Intellectual  System. 

7.  The  urgent  necessity  of  contracting  my  sails  in  this  last 
Nicole;  La     period,  far  the  most  abundant  as  it  is  in  the  variety 
piacette.       an(j  extent  of  its  literature,  restrains  me  from  more 
than  a  bare  mention  of  several  works  not  undeserving  of  re- 
gard.    The  Essais  de  Morale  of  Nicole  are  less  read  than 
esteemed,  says  a  late  biographer.1     Voltaire,  however,  pro- 
phesied  that  they  would   not  perish.     "  The  chapter,  espe- 
cially,"   he  proceeds,  "  on   the    means    of  preserving   peace 
among  men,  is  a  master-piece,  to  which  nothing  equal  has 
been  left  to  us  by  antiquity." 2     These  Essays  are  properly 
contained  in  six  volumes ;  but  so  many  other  pieces  are  added 
in  some  editions,  that  the  collection  under  that  title  is  very 
long.     La  Piacette,  minister  of  a  French  church  at  Copen- 
hagen, has  been  called  the  Protestant  Nicole.     His  Essais  de 
Morale,  in  1692  and  other  years,  are  full  of  a  solid  morality, 
rather  strict  in  casuistry,  and  apparently  not  deficient  in  ob- 
servation and  analytical  views  of  human  nature.     They  were 
much  esteemed  in  their  own  age.     Works  of  this  kind  treat 
so  very  closely  on  the  department  of  practical  religion,  that  it 
is  sometimes  difficult  to  separate  them  on  any  fixed  principle. 
A  less  homiletical  form,  a  comparative  absence  of  scriptural 
quotation,  a  more  reasoning  and  observing  mode  of  dealing 
with  the  subject,  are  the  chief  distinctions.     But,  in  the  ser- 
mons of  Barrow  and  some  others,  we  find  a  great  deal  of  what 
may  be  justly  called  moral  philosophy. 

8.  A  book  by  Sharrock,  De  Officiis   secundum   Rationis 
other          Humanae  Dictata,   1660,  is  occasionally  quoted,  and 
writers.       seems  to  be  of  a  philosophical  nature.3     Velthuysou, 
a  Dutch  minister,  was  of  more  reputation.     His  name  was 
rather  obnoxious  to  the  orthodox ;  since  he  was  a  strenuous 
advocate  of  toleration,  a  Cartesian  in  philosophy,  and  inclined 
to  judge  for  himself.     His  chief  works  are  De  Principiis  Justi 
et  Decori  and  De  Natural!  Pudore.4     But  we  must  now  pa.ss 
on  to  those  who  have  exercised  a  greater  influence  in  moral 
philosophy,  —  Cumberland  and   Puffendorf,  —  after  giving  a 
short  consideration  to  Spinosa. 

9.  The  moral  system,  if  so  it  may  be  called,  of  Spinosa, 

i  Biogr.  UnlT.  »  Siecle  de  Louis  XTV. 

3  Cumberland  (in  prtefatione)  De  Legibus  Naturae. 

*  Biogr.  Univ. ;  Barbeyrac's  notes  on  Pufiendorf,  passim. 


CHAP.  IV.  MORAL  SYSTEM  OF  SPINOSA.  151 

has  been  developed  by  him  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  parts  of  his 
Ethics.  We  are  not_  deceived  in  what  might  natu-  Moral  , 
rally  be  expected  from  the  unhesitating  adherence  System  of 
of  Spinosa  to  a  rigorous  line  of  reasoning,  that  his  pmt 
ethical  scheme  would  offer  nothing  inconsistent  with  the  fun- 
damental pantheism  of  his  philosophy.  In  nature  itself,  he 
maintains  as  before,  there  is  neither  perfection  nor  imper- 
fection, neither  good  nor  evil ;  but  these  are  modes  of  speak- 
ing, adopted  to  express  the  relations  of  things  as  they  appear 
to  our  minds.  Whatever  contains  more  positive  attributes 
capable  of  being  apprehended  by  us  than  another  contains,  is 
more  perfect  than  it.  Whatever  we  know  to  be  useful  to 
ourselves,  that  is  good  ;  and  whatever  impedes  our  attainment 
of  good  is  evil.  By  this  utility,  Spinosa  does  not  understand 
happiness,  if  by  that  is  meant  pleasurable  sensation,  but  the 
extension  of  our  mental  and  bodily  capacities.  The  passions 
restrain  and  overpower  these  capacities ;  and  coming  from 
without,  that  is,  from  the  body,  render  the  mind  a  less  power- 
ful agent  than  it  seems  to  be.  It  is  only,  we  may  remember, 
in  a  popular  sense,  and  subject  to  his  own  definitions,  that 
Spiuosa  acknowledges  the  mind  to  be  an  agent  at  all :  it  is 
merely  so  in  so  far  as  its  causes  of  action  cannot  be  referred 
by  us  to  any  thing  external.  No  passion  can  be  restrained 
except  by  a  stronger  passion.  Hence  even  a  knowledge  of 
what  is  really  good  or  evil  for  us  can  of  itself  restrain  no  pas- 
sion, but  only  as  it  is  associated  with  a  perception  of  joy  and 
sorrow,  which  is  a  mode  of  passion.  This  perception  is  neces- 
sarily accompanied  by  desire  or  aversion ;  but  they  may  often 
be  so  weak  as  to  be  controlled  by  other  sentiments  of  the  same 
class  inspired  by  conflicting  passions.  Tins  is  the  cause  of 
the  weakness  arid  inconstancy  of  many ;  and  he  alone  is  wise 
and  virtuous  who  steadily  pursues  what  is  useful  to  himself; 
that  is,  what  reason  points  out  as  the  best  means  of  preserving 
his  well-being  and  extending  his  capacities.  Nothing  is  abso- 
lutely good,  nothing  therefore  is  principally  sought  by  a  vir- 
tuous man,  but  knowledge,  not  of  things  external,  which  gives 
us  only  inadequate  ideas,  but  of  God.  Other  things  are  good 
or  evU  to  us  so  far  as  they  suit  our  nature  or  contradict  it ; 
and,  so  far  as  men  act  by  reason,  they  must  agree  in  seeking 
what  is  conformable  to  their  nature.  And  those  who  agree 
with  us  in  living  by  reason  are  themselves  of  all  things  most 
suitable  to  our  nature ;  so  that  the  society  of  such  men  is 


152  MORAL  SYSTEM  OF  SPINOSA.  PART  IV 

most  to  be  desired;  and  to  enlarge  that  society  by  rendering 
men  virtuous,  and  by  promoting  their  advantage  when  they 
are  so,  is  most  useful  to  ourselves.  For  the  good  of  such  as 
pursue  virtue  may  be  enjoyed  by  all,  and  does  not  obstruct 
our  own.  Whatever  conduces  to  the  common  society  of  man- 
kind, and  promotes  concord  among  them,  is  useful  to  all ;  and 
whatever  has  an  opposite  tendency  is  pernicious.  The  pas- 
sions are  sometimes  incapable  of  excess ;  but  of  this  the  only 
instances  are  joy  and  cheerfulness :  more  frequently  they  be- 
•ome  pernicious  by  being  indulged,  and  in  some  cases,  such  as 
iatred,  can  never  be  useful.  We  should  therefore,  for  our 
own  sakes,  meet  the  hatred  and  malevolence  of  others  with 
love  and  liberality.  Spinosa  dwells  much  on  the  preference 
due  to  a  social  above  a  solitary  life,  to  cheerfulness  above 
austerity ;  and  alludes  frequently  to  the  current  theological 
ethics  with  censure. 

10.  The  fourth  part  of  the  Ethics  is  entitled  On  Human 
Slavery,  meaning  the  subjugation  of  the  reason  to  the  pas- 
sions :  the  fifth,  On  Human  Liberty,  is  designed  to  show,  as 
had  been  partly  done  in  the  former,  how  the  mind  or  intel- 
lectual man  is  to  preserve  its  supremacy.  This  is  to  be 
effected,  not  by  the  extinction,  which  is  impossible,  but  the 
moderation,  of  the  passions ;  and  the  secret  of  doing  this, 
according  to  Spinosa,  is  to  contemplate  such  things  as  are 
naturally  associated  with  affections  of  no  great  violence.  We 
find,  that  when  we  look  at  things  simply  in  themselves,  and  not 
in  their  necessary  relations,  they  affect  us  more  powerfully : 
whence  it  may  be  inferred  that  we  shall  weaken  the  passion 
by  viewing  them  as  parts  of  a  necessary  series.  We  promote 
the  same  end  by  considering  the  object  of  the  passion  in  many 
different  relations,  and  in  general  by  enlarging  the  sphere  of 
our  knowledge  concerning  it.  Hence,  the  more  adequate  ideas 
we  attain  of  things  that  affect  us,  the  less  we  shall  be  over- 
come by  the  passion  they  excite.  But,  most  of  all,  it  should 
be  our  endeavor  to  refer  all  things  to  the  idea  of  God.  The 
more  we  understand  ourselves  and  our  passions,  the  more  we 
shall  love  God ;  for,  the  more  we  understand  any  thing,  tho 
more  pleasure  we  have  in  contemplating  it ;  and  we  shall  asso- 
ciate the  idea  of  God  with  this  pleasurable  contemplation, 
which  is  the  essence  of  love.  The  love  of  God  should  be  the 
chief  employment  of  the  mind.  But  God  has  no  passions : 
therefore  he  who  desires  that  God  should  love  him,  desires  in 


CHAP.  IV.      COCBERLASD'S  DE  LEGIBUS  NATURAE.  153 

fact  that  he  should  cease  to  be  God.  And  the  more  we  believe 
others  to  be  united  in  the  same  love  of  God,  the  more  we  shall 
love  him  ourselves. 

11.  The  great  aim  of  the  mind,  and  the  greatest  degree  of 
virtue,  is  the  knowledge  of  things  in  their  essence.     This 
knowledge  is  the  perfection  of  human  nature;   it  is  accom- 
panied with  the  greatest  joy  and  contentment ;  it  leads  to  a 
love  of  God,  intellectual,  not  imaginative,  eternal,  because  not 
springing  from  passions  that  perish  with  the  body,  being  itself 
a  portion  of  that  infinite  love  with  which  God  intellectually 
loves  himself.     In  this  love  towards  God  our  chief  felicity  con- 
sists, which  is  not  the  reward  of  virtue,  but  virtue  itself:  noj 
is  any  one  happy  because  he  has  overcome  the  passions ;  but  it 
is  by  being  happy,  that  is,  by  enjoying  the  fulness  of  divine 
love,  that  he  has  become  capable  of  overcoming  them. 

12.  These  extraordinary  effusions  confirm  what  has  been 
hinted  in  another  place,  that  Spinosa,  in  the  midst  of  his  athe- 
ism, seemed  often  to  hover  over  the  regions  of  mystical  theo- 
logy.    This  last  book  of  the  Ethics  speaks,  as  is  evident,  the 
very  language  of  Quietism.     In  Spinosa  himself  it  is  not  easy 
to  understand  the  meaning :  his  sincerity  ought  not,  I  think,  to 
be  called  in  question ;  and  this  enthusiasm  may  be  set  down 
to  the  rapture  of  the  imagination  expatiating  in  the  enchant- 
ing wilderness  of  its  creation.  But  the  possibility  of  combining 
such  a  tone  of  contemplative  devotion  with  the  systematic 
denial  of  a  Supreme  Being,  in  any  personal  sense,  may  put  us 
on  our  guard  against  the  tendency  of  mysticism,  which  may 
again,  as  it  has  frequently,  degenerate  into  a  similar  chaos. 

13.  The  science  of  ethics,  in  the  third  quarter  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  seemed  to  be  cultivated  by  three 

very  divergent  schools,  —  by  that  of  the  theologians, 
who  went  no  farther  than  revelation,  or  at  least  than 
the  positive  law  of  God,  for  moral  distinctions ;  by 
that  of  the  Platonic  philosophers,  who  sought  them  in  eternal 
and  intrinsic  relations ;  and  that  of  Hobbes  and  Spinosa,  who 
reduced  them  all  to  selfish  prudence.  A  fourth  theory,  which, 
in  some  of  its  modifications,  has  greatly  prevailed  in  the  hist 
two  centuries,  may  be  referred  to  Richard  Cumberland,  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Peterborough.  His  famous  work,  De  Legi- 
bus  Xaturse  Disquisitio  Philosophica,  was  published  in  107^. 
It  is  contained  in  nine  chapters,  besides  the  preface  or  pro- 
legomena. 


154  ANALYSIS  OF  PROLEGOMENA.  PART  IV. 

14.  Cumberland  begins  by  mentioning  Grotius,  Selden,  and 
Analysis      one  or  ^°  more  wno  have  investigated  the  laws  of 
of  proiego-  nature  d  posteriori  ;  that  is,  by  the  testimony  of  au- 
thors  and   the   consent  of  nations.      But  as  some 

objections  may  be  started  against  this  mode  of  proof,  which, 
though  he  does  not  hold  them  to  be  valid,  are  likely  to  have 
some  effect,  he  prefers  another  line  of  demonstration,  dedu- 
cing the  laws  of  nature,  as  effects,  from  their  real  causes  in  the 
constitution  of  nature  itself.  The  Platonic  theory  of  innate 
moral  ideas,  sufficient  to  establish  natural  law,  he  does  not 
admit.  "  For  myself  at  least  I  may  say,  that  I  have  not  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  this  law  by  so 
compendious  a  road."  He  deems  it,  therefore,  necessary  to 
begin  with  what  we  learn  by  daily  use  and  experience ;  assum- 
ing nothing  but  the  physical  laws  of  motion  shown  by  mathe- 
maticians, and  the  derivation  of  all  their  operations  from  the 
will  of  a  First  Cause. 

15.  By  diligent  observation  of  all  propositions  which  can  be 
justly  reckoned  general  moral  laws  of  nature,  he  finds  that 
they  may  be  reduced  to  one,  the  pursuit  of  the  common  good 
of  all  rational  agents,  which  tends  to  our  own  good  as  part  of 
the  whole ;  as  its  opposite  tends  not  only  to  the  misery  of  the 
whole  system,  but  to  our  own.1     This  tendency,  he  takes  care 
to  tell  us,  though  he  uses  the  present  tense  (conducit*),  has 
respect  to  the  most  remote  consequences,  and  is  so  understood 
by  him.     The  means  which  serve  to  this  end,  the  general  good, 
may  be  treated  as  theorems  in  a  geometrical  method.2     Cum- 
berland, as  we  have  seen  in  Spinosa,  was  captivated  by  the 
apparent  security  of  this  road  to  truth. 

1 6.  This  scheme,  he  observes,  may  at  first  sight  want  the 
two  requisites  of  a  law,  a  legislator  and  a  sanction.    But  what- 
ever is  naturally  assented  to  by  our  minds  must  spring  from 
the  author  of  nature.     God  is  proved  to  be  the  author  of 
every  proposition  which  is  proved  to  be  true  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  nature,  which  has  him  for  its  author.3      Nor  is  a 
sanction  wanting  in  the  rewards,  that  is,  the  happiness  which 
attends  the  observance  of  the  law  of  nature,  and  in  the  oppo- 
site effects  of  its  neglect ;  and  in  a  lax  sense,  though  not  that 
of  the  jurists,  reward  as  well  as  punishment  may  be  included  in 
the  word  "  sanction." 4     But  benevolence,  that  is,  love  and  de- 

1  Prolegomena,  sect.  9.  »  S,vt.  13. 

»  Sect.  12  «  .Swt.  14. 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  LEGIBUS  NATURE.  155 

sire  of  good  towards  all  rational  beings,  includes  piety  towards 
God,  the  greatest  of  them  all,  as  well  as  humanity.1  Cumber 
land  altogether  abstains  from  arguments  founded  on  revelation, 
and  is  perhaps  the  first  writer  on  natural  law  who  has  done  so ; 
for  they  may  even  be  found  in  Hobbes.  And  I  think  that  he 
may  be  reckoned  the  founder  of  what  is  awkwardly  and  invidi- 
ously called  the  utilitarian  school ;  for,  though  similar  expres- 
sions about  the  common  good  may  sometimes  be  found  in  the 
ancients,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  the  basis  of  any 
ethical  system. 

17.  This  common  good,  not  any  minute  particle  of  it,  as  the 
benefit  of  a  single  man,  is  the  great  end  of  the  legislator  and 
of  him  who  obeys  his  will.     And  such  human  actions  as  by 
their  natural  tendency  promote  the  common   good   may  be 
called  naturally  good,  more  than  those  which  tend  only  to  the 
good  of  any  one  man,  by  how  much  the  whole  is  greater  than 
this  small  part.     And  whatever  is  directed  in  the  shortest  way 
to  this  end  may  be  called  right,  as  a  right  line  is  the  shortest 
of  all.     And  as  the  whole  system  of  the  universe,  when  all 
things  are  arranged  so  as  to  produce  happiness,  is  beautiful, 
being  aptly  disposed  to  its  end,  which  is  the  definition  of 
beauty ;  so  particular  actions  contributing  to  this  general  har- 
mony may  be  called  beautiful  and  becoming.2 

18.  Cumberland  acutely  remarks,  in  answer  to  the  objec- 
tion to  the  practice  of  virtue  from  the  evils  which  fall  on 
good  men,  and  the  success  of  the  wicked,  that  no  good  or  evil 
is  to  be  considered,  in  this  point  of  view,  which  arises  from 
mere  necessity,  or  external  causes,  and  not  from  our  virtue 
or  vice  itself.     He  then  shows,  that  a  regard  for  piety  and 
peace,  for  mutual  intercourse,  and  civil  and  domestic  polity, 
tends  to  the  happiness  of  every  one  ;  and,  in  reckoning  the 
good  consequences  of  virtuous  behavior,  we  are  not  only  to 
estimate  the  pleasure  intimately  connected  with  it,  which  the 
love  of  God  and  of  good  men  produces,  but  the  contingent 
benefits  we  obtain  by  civil  society,  which  we  promote  by  such 
conduct.3    And  we  see  that  in  all  nations  there  is  some  regard 
to  good  faith  and  the  distribution  of  property,  some  respect  to 
the  obligation  of  oaths,  some  attachments  to  relations  and 
friends.     All  men,  therefore,  acknowledge,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  perform,  those  things  which  really  tend  to  the  common 
good.     And  though  crime  and  violence  sometimes  prevail,  yet 

»  Prolegomena,  sect.  16  *  Sect.  16.  »  Sect.  20. 


156  CUMBERLAND.  PARI  IV. 

these  are  like  diseases  in  the  body,  which  it  shakes  off :  or  if, 
like  them,  they  prove  sometimes  mortal  to  a  single  commu- 
nity, yet  human  society  is  immortal,  and  the  conservative 
principles  of  common  good  have  in  the  end  far  more  efficacy 
than  those  which  dissolve  and  destroy  states. 

19.  We  may  reckon  the  happiness  consequent  on  virtue  as 
a  true  sanction  of  natural  law  annexed  to  it  by  its  author, 
and  thus  fulfilling  the  necessary  conditions  of  its  definition. 
And  though  some  have  laid  less  stress  on  these  sanctions, 
and  deemed  virtue  its*own  reward,  and  gratitude  to  God  and 
man  its  best  motive,  yet  the  consent  of  nations  and  common 
experience  show  us,  that  the  observance  of  the  first  end,  which 
is  the  common  good,  will  not  be  maintained  without  remu- 
neration or  the  penal  consequences. 

20.  By  this  single  principle  of  common  good,  we  simplify 
the  method  of  natural  law,  and  arrange  its  secondary  pre- 
cepts in  such  subordination  as  best  conduces  to  the  general 
end.     Hence  moral  rules  give  way  in  particular  cases,  when 
they  come  in  collision  with  others  of  more  extensive  impor- 
tance.    For  all  ideas  of  right  or  virtue  imply  a  relation  to 
the  system  and  nature  of  all  rational  beings.     And  the  princi- 
ples thus  deduced  as  to  moral  conduct  are  generally  applicable 
to  political  societies,  which,  in  their  two  leading  institutions, 
—  the  division  of  property  and  the  coercive  power  of  the 
magistrate,  —  follow  the   steps    of  natural   law,   and   adopt 
these  rules  of  polity,  because  they  perceive  them  to  promote 
the  common  weal. 

21.  From  all  intermixture  of  scriptural  authority,  Cum- 
berland proposes  to   abstain,  building   only  on   reason   and 
experience ;  since  we  believe  the  Scriptures  to  proceed  from 
God,  because  they  illustrate  and  promote  the  law  of  nature. 
He  seems  to  have  been  the  first  Christian  writer  who  sought 
to  establish  systematically  the  principles  of  moral  right  inde- 
pendently of  revelation.     They  are,  indeed,  taken  for  granted 
by  many,  especially  those  who  adopted  the  Platonic  language ; 
or  the  schoolmen  may  have  demonstrated  them  by  arguments 
derived  from  reason,  but  seldom,  if  ever,  without  some  collate- 
ral reference  to  theological  authority.     In  this  respect,  there- 
fore, Cumberland  may  be  deemed  to  make  an  epoch  in  the 
history  of  ethical  philosophy ;  though  Puffendorf,  whose  work 
was  published  the  same  year,  may  have  nearly  equal  claims 
to  it.    If  we  compare  the  Treatise  on  the  Laws  of  Nature 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  LEGIBUS  NATURE.  157 

with  the  Ductor  Dubitantium  of  Taylor,  written  a  very  few 
years  before,  we  shall  find  ourselves  in  a  new  world  of  moral 
reasoning.  The  schoolmen  and  fathers,  the  canonists  and 
casuists,  have  vanished  like  ghosts  at  the  first  daylight : 
the  continual  appeal  is  to  experience,  and  never  to  authority  ; 
or,  if  authority  can  be  said  to  appear  at  all  in  the  pages  of 
Cumberland,  it  is  that  of  the  great  apostles  of  experimental 
philosophy, — Descartes  or  Huygens,  or  Harvey  or  Willis.  His 
mind,  liberal  and  comprehensive  as  well  as  acute,  had  been 
forcibly  impressed  with  the  discoveries  of  his  own  age,  both 
in  mathematical  science  and  in  what  is  now  more  strictly 
culled  physiology.  From  this  armory  he  chose  his  weapons, 
and  employed  them,  in  some  instances,  with  great  sagacity  and 
depth  of  thought.  From  the  brilliant  success  also  of  the 
modern  analysis,  as  well  as  from  the  natural  prejudice  in 
favor  of  a  mathematical  method,  which  arises  from  the  ac- 
knowledged superiority  of  that  science  in  the  determination 
of  its  proper  truths,  he  was  led  to  expect  more  from  the  use 
of  similar  processes  in  moral  reasoning  than  we  have  found 
justified  by  experience.  And  this  analogy  had  probably  some 
effect  on  one  of  the  chief  errors  of  his  ethical  system,  —  the 
reduction,  at  least  in  theory,  of  the  morality  of  actions  to 
definite  calculation. 

22.  The  prolegomena  or  preface  to  Cumberland's  treatise 
contains  that  statement  of  his  system  with  which    ffig  theo 
we   have  been  hitherto  concerned,  and  which  4he    expanded 
whole  volume  does  but  expand.     His  manner  of 
reasoning  is  diffuse,  abounding  in  repetitions,  and  often  excur- 
sive :  we  cannot  avoid  perceiving  that  he  labors  long  on  pro- 
positions which  no  adversary  would  dispute,  or  on  which  the 
dispute  could  be   little  else  than  one  of  verbal  definition. 
This,  however,  is  almost  the  universal  failing  of  preceding 
philosophers,  and  was  only  put  an  end  to,  if  it  can  be  said 
yet  to  have  ceased,  by  the  sharper  logic  of  controversy  which 
a  more  general  regard  to  metaphysical  inquiries,  and  a  juster 
sense  of  the  value  of  words,  brought  into  use. 

23.  The  question  between  Cumberland  and  his  adversaries, 
that  is.  the  school  of  Hobbes,  is  stated  to  be,  whether  certain 
propositions  of  immutable  truth,  directing  the  voluntary  ac- 
tions of  men  in  choosing  good  and  avoiding  evil,  and  impos- 
ing an  obligation  upon  them,  independently  of  civil  laws,  are 
necessarily  suggested  to  the  mind  by  the  nature  of  things  and 


158  CUMBERLAND.  PART  IV. 

by  that  of  mankind.  And  the  affirmative  of  this  question  he 
undertakes  to  prove  from  a  consideration  of  the  nature  of 
both :  from  which  many  particular  rules  might  be  deduced, 
but  above  all  that  which  comprehends  all  the  rest,  and 
is  the  basis  of  his  theory ;  namely,  that  the  greatest  possi- 
ble benevolence  (not  a  mere  languid  desire,  but  an  energetic 
principle)  of  every  rational  agent  towards  all  the  rest  consti- 
tutes the  happiest  condition  of  each  and  of  all,  so  far  as 
depends  on  their  own  power,  and  is  necessarily  required  for 
their  greatest  happiness ;  whence  the  common  good  is  the 
supreme  law.  That  God  is  the  author  of  this  law  appears 
evident  from  his  being  the  author  of  all  nature  and  of  all 
the  physical  laws  according  to  which  impressions  are  made  on 
our  minds. 

24.  It  is  easy  to  observe  by  daily  experience,  that  we  have 
the  power  of  doing  good  to  others,  and  that  no  men  are  so 
happy  or  so  secure  as  they  who  most  exert  this.     And  this 
may  be  proved  synthetically  and  in  that  more  rigorous  method 
which  he  affects,  though  it  now  and  then  leads  the  reader  away 
from  the  simplest  argument,  by  considering  our  own  faculties 
of  speech  and  language,  the  capacities  of  the  hand  and  coun- 
tenance, the  skill  we  possess  in  sciences,  and  in  useful  arts ; 
all  of  which  conduce  to  the  social  life  of  mankind  and  to  their 
mutual  co-operation   and  benefit.     Whatever  preserves  and 
perfects  the  nature  of  any  thing,  —  that  is  to  be  called  good ; 
and  the  opposite,  evil :  so  that  Hobbes  has  crudely  asserted 
good  to  regpect  only  the  agent  desiring  it,  and  consequently 
to  be  variable.     In  this  it  will  be  seen  that  the  dispute  is 
chiefly  verbal. 

25.  Two  corollaries  of  great  importance  in  the  theory  of 
ethics  spring  from  a  consideration  of  our  physical  powers. 
The  first  is,  that,  inasmuch    as    they  are    limited    by  their 
nature,  we   should   never   seek   to   transgress  their  bounds, 
but  distinguish,  as   the  Stoics  did,  things  within  our  reach, 
ra  ty'  r/fuv,  from  those  beyond  it,  TU  OVK  ty'  rifuv,  thus  relieving  our 
minds  from  anxious  passions,  and  turning  them  to  the  prudent 
use  of  the  means  assigned  to  us.     The  other  is  one  which 
applies  more  closely  to  his  general  principle  of  morals ;    that, 
as  all  we  can  do  in  respect  of  others,  and  all  the  enjoyment 
we  or  they  can  have  of  particular  things,  is  limited  to  certain 
persons,  as  well  as  by  space  and  time,  we  perceive  the  neces- 
sity of  distribution,  both  as  to  things,  from  wliich  spring  the 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  LEGIBUS  NATUK^E.  159 

rights  of  property,  and  as  to  persons,  by  which  our  benevo- 
lence, though  a  general  rule  in  itself,  is  practically  directed 
towards  individuals.  For  the  conservation  of  an  aggregate 
whole  is  the  same  as  that  of  its  divided  parts,  that  is,  of 
single  persons,  which  requires  a  distributive  exercise  of  the 
powers  of  each.  Hence  property  and  dominion,  or  meum  and 
tuum,  in  the  most  general  sense,  are  consequences  from  the 
general  law  of  nature.  Without  a  support  from  that  law, 
according  to  Cumberland,  without  a  positive  tendency  to  the 
good  of  all  rational  agents,  we  should  have  no  right  even  to 
things  necessary  for  our  preservation ;  nor  have  we  that  right, 
if  a  greater  evil  would  be  incurred  by  our  preservation  than 
by  our  destruction.  It  may  be  added,  as  a  more  universal 
reflection,  that,  as  all  which  we  see  in  nature  is  so  framed  as 
to  persevere  in  its  appointed  state,  and  as  the  human  body  is 
endowed  with  the  power  of  throwing  off  whatever  is  noxious 
and  threatens  the  integrity  of  its  condition,  we  may  judge 
from  this  that  the  conservation  of  mankind  in  its  best  state 
must  be  the  design  of  nature,  and  that  their  own  voluntary 
actions  conducing  to  that  end  must  be  such  as  the  Author  of 
nature  commands  and  approves. 

26.  Cumberland  next  endeavors,  by  an  enlarged  analysis  of 
the  mental  and  bodily  structure  of  mankind,  to  evince  then; 
aptitude  for  the  social  virtues,  that  is,  for  the  general  benevo- 
lence which  is  the  primary  law  of  nature.  We  have  the 
power  of  knowing  these  by  our  rational  faculty,  which  is 
the  judge  of  right  and  wrong,  that  is,  of  what  is  conformable 
to  the  great  law ;  and  by  the  other  faculties  of  the  mind,  as 
well  as  by  the  use  of  language,  we  generalize  and  reduce 
to  propositions  the  determinations  of  reason.  We  have  also 
the  power  of  comparison,  and  of  perceiving  analogies,  by 
means  of  which  we  estimate  degrees  of  good.  And,  if  we  are 
careful  to  guard  against  deciding  without  clear  and  adequate 
apprehensions  of  things,  our  reason  will  not  mislead  us.  The 
observance  of  something  like  this  general  law  of  nature  by 
inferior  animals,  which  rarely,  as  Cumberland  supposes,  attack 
those  of  the  same  species,  and  in  certain  instances  live  together, 
as  if  by  a  compact  for  mutual  aid ;  the  peculiar  contrivances 
in  the  human  body  which  seem  designed  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  society ;  the  possession  of  speech,  the  pathognornic 
countenance,  the  efficiency  of  the  hand,  a  longevity  beyond 
the  lower  animals,  the  duration  of  the  sexual  appetite  through- 


1GU  CUMBERLAND.  PART  IV 

out  the  year,  with  several  other  arguments  derived  from  ana- 
tomy,— are  urged  throughout  this  chapter  against  the  unsocial 
theory  of  Hobbes. 

27.  Natural  good  is  defined  by  Cumberland  with  more  lati- 
tude than  has  been  used  by  Paley  and  by  those  of  a  later 
school,  who  confine  it  to  happiness  or  pleasurable  perception. 
Whatever  conduces  to  the  preservation  of  an  intelligent  being, 
or  to  the  perfection  of  his  powers,  he  accounts  to  be  good, 
without  regard  to  enjoyment.     And  for  this  he  appeals  to  ex- 
perience ;  since  we  desire  existence,  as  well  as  the  extension 
of  our  powers  of  action,  for  their  own  sakes.     It  is  of  great 
importance  to  acquire  a  clear  notion  of  what  is  truly  good, 
that  is,  of  what  serves  most  to  the  happiness  and  perfection 
of  every  one ;  since  all  the  secondary  laws  of  nature,  that  is, 
the  rules  of  particular  virtues,  derive  their  authority  from  this 
effect     These  rules  may  be  compared  one  with  another  as  to 
the  probability  as  well  as  the  value  of  their  effects  upon  the 
general   good ;    and   he   anticipates   greater  advantage  from 
the  employment  of  mathematical  reasoning  and  even  analytical 
forms  in  moral  philosophy  than  the  different  nature  of  the 
subjects  would  justify,  even  if  the  fundamental  principle  of 
converting   the   theory  of  ethics   into   calculation   could   be 
allowed.1 

28.  A  law  of  nature,  meaning  one  subordinate  to  the  great 
principle  of  benevolence,  is  defined  by  Cumberland  to  be  a 
proposition  manifested  by  the  nature  of  things  to  the  mind 
according  to  the  will  of  the  First  Cause,  and  pointing  out  an 
action  tending  to  the  good  of  rational  beings,  from  the  per- 
formance of  which  an  adequate  reward,  or  from  the  neglect 
of  which  a  punishment,  will   ensue  by  the   nature  of  such 
rational  beings.      Every  part  of  this  definition   he   proves 
with  exceeding  prolixity  in  the  longest  chapter,  .namely,  the 
fifth,  of  his  treatise ;  but  we  have  already  seen  the  foundations 
of  his  theory  upon  which  it  rests.     It  will  be  evident  to  the 
reader  of  this  chapter,  that  both  Butler  and  Paley  have  been 
largely  indebted  to  Cumberland.2     Natural  obligation  he  de- 
fines thus :  No  other  necessity  determines  the  will  to  act  than 

1  "  Ea  quippe  tota  (dinciplina  morum)  ges.     By  rationibiu  we  must  \mderstand 

versatur  in  testimandis  rationibus  viriuin  ratios ;  which  brings  out  the  calculating 

humanarum  ad  commune  bonum  entium  theory  in  the  strongest  light, 
rationalium    quicquam   facicntiiun,   quae        2  A  great  part  of  the  second  and  third 

quidem  variant  in  onmi  casuum  possibi-  chapters  of  Butler'x  Analogy  will  be  found 

lium  varietate."  —  Cap.  ii.  sect.  9.     The  in  Cumberland.     See  cap.  v.  sect.  22. 
game  is  laid  down  in  several  other  passa- 


CHAP.  IV.  DE  LEGIBUS  NATURE.  161 

that  of  avoiding  evil  and  of  seeking  good,  so  far  as  appears 
to  be  in  our  power.1  Moral  obligation  is  more  limited,  and 
is  differently  defined.2  But  the  main  point,  as  he  justly 
observes,  of  the  controversy  is  the  connection  between  the 
tendency  of  each  man's  actions,  taking  them  collectively 
through  his  life,  to  the  good  of  the  whole,  and  that  to  his  own 
greatest  happiness  and  perfection.  This  he  undertakes  to 
show,  premising  that  it  is  two-fold;  consisting  immediately 
in  the  pleasure  attached  to  virtue,  and  ultimately  in  the 
rewards  which  it  obtains  from  God  and  from  man.  God,  as  a 
rational  being,  cannot  be  supposed  to  act  without  an  end,  or  to 
have  a  greater  end  than  the  general  good ;  that  is,  the  happi- 
ness and  perfection  of  his  creatures.3  And  his  will  may  not 
only  be  shown  a  priori,  by  the  consideration  of  his  essence 
and  attributes,  but  by  the  effects  of  virtue  and  vice  in  the 
order  of  nature  which  he  has  established.  The  rewards 
and  punishments  which  follow  at  the  hands  of  men  are  equally 
obvious ;  and  whether  we  regard  men  as  God's  instruments, 
or  as  voluntary  agents,  demonstrate  that  virtue  is  the  highest 
prudence.  These  arguments  are  urged  rather  tediously,  and 
in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  encounter  all  the  difficulties  which 
it  is  desirable  to  overcome. 

29.  Two  objections  might  be  alleged  against  this  kind  of 
proof:  that  the  rewards  and  punishments  of  moral  actions  are 
too  uncertain  to  be  accounted  clear  proofs  of  the  will  of  God, 
and  consequently  of  their  natural  obligation  ;  and  that,  by  lay- 
ing so  much  stress  upon  them,  we  make  private  happiness  the 
measure  of  good.  These  he  endeavors  to  repel.  The  contin- 
gency of  a  future  consequence  has  a  determinate  value,  which, 
if  it  more  than  compensates,  for  good  or  evil,  the  evil  or  good 
of  a  present  action,  ought  to  be  deemed  a  proof  given  by  the 
Author  of  nature,  that  reward  or  punishment  are  annexed  to 
;he  action,  as  much  as  if  they  were  its  necessary  conse- 
juences.4  This  argument,  perhaps  sophistical,  is  an  instance 
>f  the  calculating  method  affected  by  Cumberland,  and  which 
we  may  presume,  from  the  then  recent  application  of  analysis 
o  probability,  he  was  the  first  to  adopt  on  such  an  occasion. 
Paley  is  sometimes  fond  of  a  similar  process.  But,  after  these 
mathematical  reasonings,  he  dwells,  as  before,  on  the  bene- 

1  "Won  alia  necessitas  voluntatem  ad    bontunqne  qnatenna  nobis  apparet  pro- 
•gendom    determinat.    quam   malum  in    sequendi." —  Cap.  v.  sect.  ~. 
quantum  tale  eese  nobU  constat  fugieniii,        *  Sect.  27.       *  Sect.  19.       *  Sect.  87. 

VOL.  IV.  11 


1G2  CUMBERLAND.  PART  IV. 

ficial  effects  of  virtue,  and  concludes  that  many  of  them  are 
so  uniform  as  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  intention  of  the  Cre- 
ator. Against  the  charge  of  postponing  the  public  good  to 
that  of  the  agent,  he  protests  that  it  is  wholly  contrary  to  his 
principle,  which  permits  no  one  to  preserve  his  life,  or  what 
is  necessary  for  it,  at  the  expense  of  a  greater  good  to  the 
whole.1  But  his  explication  of  the  question  ends  in  repeating, 
that  no  single  man's  greatest  felicity  can  by  the  nature  of 
things  be  inconsistent  with  that  of  all ;  and  that  every  such 
hypothesis  is  to  be  rejected  as  an  impossible  condition  of  the 
problem.  It  seems  doubtful  whether  Cumberland  uses  always 
the  same  language  on  the  question,  whether  private  happiness 
is  the  final  motive  of  action,  which  in  this  part  of  the  chapter 
he  wholly  denies. 

30.  From  the  establishment  of  this  primary  law  of  univer- 
sal benevolence,  Cumberland  next  deduces  the  chief  secondary 
principles,    which   are    commonly   called   the   moral  virtues. 
And  among  these  he  gives  the  first  place  to  justice,  which  he 
seems  to  consider,  by  too  lax  an  use  of  terms  or  too  imperfect 
an  analogy,  as  comprehending  the  social  duties  of  liberality, 
courtesy,  and   domestic   aifection.      The   right   of  property, 
which  is  the  foundation  of  justice,  he  rests  entirely  on  its 
necessity  for  the  common  good  :  whatever  is  required  for  that 
prime  end  of  moral  action  being  itself  obligatory  on  moral 
agents,  they  are  bound  to  establish  and  to  maintain  separate 
rights.     And  all  right  so  wholly  depends  on  this  instrumen- 
tality to  good,  that  the  rightful  sovereignty  of  God  over  his 
creatures  is  not  founded  on  that  relation  which  he  bears  to 
them  as  their  Maker,  much  less  on  his  mere  power,  but  on  his 
wisdom  and  goodness,  through  which  his  omnipotence  works 
only  for  their  happiness.     But  this  happiness  can  only  be 
attained  by  means  of  an  absolute  right  over  them  in  their 
Maker,  which  is  therefore  to  be  reckoned  a  natural  law. 

31.  The  good  of  all  rational  beings  is  a  complex  whole, 
being  nothing  but  the  aggregate  of  good  enjoyed  by  each. 
We  can  only  act  in  our  proper  spheres,  laboring  to  do  good. 
But  this  labor  will  be  fruitless,  or  rather  mischievous,  if  we 
do  not  keep  in  mind  the  higher  gradations  which  terminate  in 

1  "  Sua  cnjusque  feHcitas  est  pars  valde  rationem  quam  habet  unus  homo  ad  ag- 

exigua  finis  illius,  quern  vir  vere  ratio-  gregatum  ex  omnibus  rationalibus,   quas 

nalis  prosequitur,  et  ad  totum  fincm,  sci-  minor  eat  quam  habet  uutea  arenula  ad 

licet  commune  bonum,  cui  a  natura  seu  molem  universi  «orpo*i*  '  -    S»ct.  S3  and 

a  Deo  intertexitur,  earn  tantum   habet  sect.  28. 


.  IV.       REMARKS  ON  HIS  THEOET.  163 

universal  benevolence.  No  man  must  seek  his  own  advantage 
otherwise  than  that  of  his  family  permits  ;  or  provide  for  his 
family  to  the  detriment  of  his  country ;  or  promote  the  good 
of  his  country  at  the  expense  of  mankind ;  or  serve  mankind, 
if  it  were  possible,  without  regard  to  the  majesty  of  God.1  It 
is  indeed  sufficient  that  the  mind  should  acknowledge  and 
recollect  this  principle  of  conduct,  without  having  it  present 
on  every  single  occasion.  But,  where  moral  difficulties  arise, 
Cumberland  contends  that  the  general  good  is  the  only  mea- 
sure by  which  we  are  to  determine  the  lawfulness  of  actions, 
or  the  preference  due  to  one  above  another. 

32.  In  conclusion  he  passes  to  political  authority,  deriving 
it  from  the  same  principle,  and  comments  with  severity  and 
success,  though  in  the  verbose  style  usual  to  him,  on  the  sys- 
tem of  Hobbes.     It  is,  however,  worthy  of  remark,  that  he 
not  only  peremptorily  declares  the  irresponsibility  of  the  su- 
preme magistrate  in  all  cases,  but  seems  to  give  him  a  more 
arbitrary  latitude  in  the  choice  of  measures,  so  long  as  he  does 
not  violate  the  chief  negative  precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  than 
is  consistent  with  his  own  fundamental  rule  of  always  seeking" 
the  greatest  good.     He  endeavors  to  throw  upon  Hobbes,  as 
was  not  uncommon  with  the  latter's  theological  opponents,  the 
imputation  of  encouraging  rebellion  while  he  seemed  to  sup- 
port absolute  power;    and  observes  with  full  as  much  truth, 
that,  if  kings  are  bound  by  no  natural  law,  the  reason  for  their 
institution,  namely,  the  security  of  mankind,  assigned  by  the 
author  of  the  Leviathan,  falls  to  the  ground. 

33.  I  have  gone  rather  at  length  into  a  kind  of  analysis  of 
this  treatise  because  it  is  now  very  little  read,  and 

yet  was  of  great  importance  in  the  annals  of  ethical  cumber- 
philosophy.  .  It  was,  if  not  a  text-book  in  either  of  ^nd"8  °* 
OUT  universities,  concerning  which  I  am  not  confi- 
dent, the  basis  of  the  system  therein  taught,  and  of  the  books 
which  have  had  most  influence  in  this  country.     Hutcheson, 
Law,  Paley,  Priestley,  Bentham,  belong,  no  doubt  some  of 
them  unconsciously,  to  the  school  founded  by  Cumberland. 
Hutcheson  adopted  the  principle  of  general  benevolence  as  the 
standard  of  virtue ;  but,  by  limiting  the  definition  of  good  to 
happiness  alone,  he  simplified  the  scheme  of  Cumberland,  who 
had  included  conservation  and  enlargement  of  capacity  in  its 
definition.     He  rejected  also  what  encumbers  the  whole  sy<- 

»  Cap.  riii.  sect,  li,  15. 


1G4  REMA.RKS  ON  CUMBERLAND'S  THEORY.      PART  IV 

tern  of  his  predecessor,  —  the  including  the  Supreme  Being 
among  those  rational  agents  whose  good  we  are  bound  to  pro- 
mote. The  schoolmen,  as  well  as  those  whom  they  followed, 
deeming  it  necessary  to  predicate  metaphysical  infinity  of  all 
the  divine  attributes,  reckoned  unalterable  beatitude  in  the 
number.  Upon  such  a  subject  no  wise  man  would  like  to  dog- 
matize. The  difficulties  on  both  sides  are  very  great,  and 
perhaps  among  the  most  intricate  to  which  the  momentous 
problem  concerning  the  cause  of  evil  has  given  rise.  Cum- 
berland, whose  mind  does  not  seem  to  have  been  much  framed 
to  wrestle  with  mysteries,  evades,  in  his  lax  verbosity,  what 
might  perplex  his  readers. 

34.  In   establishing  the   will   of  a  supreme   lawgiver  as 
essential  to  the  law  of  nature,  he  is  followed  by  the  bishop  of 
Carlisle  and  Paley,  as  well  as  by  the  majority  of  English 
moralists  in  the  eighteenth  century.     But  while  Paley  deems 
the  recognition  of  a  future  state  so  essential,  that  lie  even 
includes  in  the  definition  of  virtue  that  it  is  performed  "  for 
the  sake   of  everlasting  happiness,"    Cumberland  not   only 
omits  this  erroneous  and  almost  paradoxical  condition,  but 
very  slightly  alludes  to  another  life,  though  he  thinks  it  proba- 
ble from  the  stings  of  conscience  and  on  other  grounds  ;  resting 
the  whole  argument  on  the  certain  consequences  of  virtue  and 
vice  in  the  present,  but  guarding  justly  against  the  supposition 
that  any  difference  of  happiness  in  moral  agents  can  affect  the 
immediate  question  except  such  as  is  the  mere  result  of  their 
own  behavior.     If  any  one  had  urged,  like  Paley,  that,  unless 
we  take  a  future  state  into  consideration,  the  result  of  calculat- 
ing our  own  advantage  will  either  not  always  be  in  favor  of 
virtue,  or,  in  consequence  of  the  violence  of  passion,  will  not 
always  seem  so,  Cumberland  would  probably  have  denied  the 
former  alternative,  and  replied  to  the  other,  that  we  can  only 
prove  the  truth  of  our  theorems  in  moral  philosophy,  and 
cannot  compel  men  to  adopt  them. 

35.  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  whose  notice  of  Cumberland  is 
rather  too  superficial,  and  hardly  recognizes  his  influence  on 
philosophy,  observes  that  "  the  forms  of  scholastic  argument 
serve  more  to  encumber  his  style  than  to  insure  his  exact- 
ness." 1     There  is  not,  however,  much  of  scholastic  form  in  the 
treatise  on  the  Laws  of  Nature ;   and  this  is  expressly  dis- 
claimed in  the  preface.     But  he  has,  as  we  have  intimated,  a 

i  Dissertation  on  Ethical  Philosophy,  p.  48. 


I -HAP  IV.  PUFFEXDORF.  165 

great  deal  too  much  of  a  mathematical  line  of  argument  which 
never  illustrates  his  meaning,  and  has  sometimes  misled  his 
judgment.  "We  owe  probably  to  his  fondness  for  this  specious 
illusion,  I  mean  the  application  of  reasonings  upon  quantity  to 
moral  subjects,  the  dangerous  sophism,  that  a  direct  calcula 
tion  of  the  highest  good,  and  that  not  relatively  to  particulars, 
but  to  all  rational  beings,  is  the  measure  of  virtuous  actions, 
the  test  by  which  we  are  to  try  our  own  conduct  and  that  of 
others.  And  the  intervention  of  general  rules,  by  which 
Paley  endeavored  to  dilute  and  render  palatable  this  calculat- 
ing scheme  of  utility,  seems  no  more  to  have  occurred  to 
Cumberland  than  it  was  adopted  by  Bentham. 

36.  Thus,  as  Taylor's  Ductor  Dubitantium  is  nearly  the  last 
of  a  declining  school,  Cumberland's  Law  of  Nature  may  be 
justly  considered  as  the  herald,  especially  in  England,  of  a  new 
ethical  philosophy,  of  which  the  main  characteristics   were, 
first,  that  it  stood  complete  in  itself  without  the  aid  of  revela- 
tion ;    secondly,  that  it  appealed  to  no   authority  of  earlier 
writers  whatever,  though  it  sometimes  used  them  in  illustra- 
tion ;  thirdly,  that  it  availed  itself  of  observation  and  experi- 
ence, alleging  them  generally,  but  abstaining  from  particular 
instances  of  either,  and  making,  above  all,  no  display  of  erudi- 
tion ;  and,  fourthly,  that  it  entered  very  little  upon  casuistry, 
leaving  the  application  of  principles  to  the  reader. 

37.  In  the  same  year,  1672,  a  work  still  more  generally 
distinguished   than   that   of  Cumberland  was  pub- 
lished at  Lund,  in  Sweden,  by  Samuel  Puffendorf,  a  L^/of  °r 
Saxon  by  birth,  who  filled  the  chair  of  moral  philo-  ^ft"0^and 
sophy   in   that   recently-founded   university.      This 

large  treatise,  On  the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations,  in  eight 
books,  was  abridged  by  the  author,  but  not  without  some 
variations,  in  one  perhaps  more  useful,  On  the  Duties  of  a 
Man  and  a  Citizen.  Both  have  been  translated  into  French 
and  English  :  both  were  long  studied  in  the  foreign  universi- 
ties, and  even  in  our  own.  Puffendorf  has  been  perhaps,  in 
moral  philosophy,  of  greater  authority  than  Grotius,  with 
whom  he  is  frequently  named  in  conjunction  ;  but  this  is  not 
the  case  in  international  jurisprudence. 

38.  Puffendorf,  after  a  very  diffuse  and  technical  chapter 
on  moral  beings,  or  modes,  proceeds  to  assert  a  de-  Analysis  of 
monstrative   certainty  in  moral  science,  but  seems  this  work- 
not  to  maintain  an  inherent  right  and  wrong  in  actions'  ante- 


166  PUFFENDORF.  PAKT  IV 

cedent  to  all  law  ;  referring  the  rule  of  morality  altogether  to 
the  divine  appointment.  He  ends,  however,  by  admitting  that 
man's  constitution  being  what  it  is,  God  could  not  without 
inconsistency  have  given  him  any  other  law  than  that  under 
which  he  lives.1  We  discern  good  from  evil  by  the  understand- 
ing, which  judgment,  when  exercised  on  our  own  actions,  is 
called  conscience ;  but  he  strongly  protests  against  any  such 
jurisdiction  of  conscience,  independent  of  reason  and  know- 
ledge, as  some  have  asserted.  This  notion  "  was  first  intro- 
duced by  the  schoolmen,  and  has  been  maintained  in  these 
latter  ages  by  the  crafty  casuists  for  the  better  securing  of 
men's  minds  and  fortunes  to  their  own  fortune  and  advan- 
tage." 2  Puffendorf  was  a  good  deal  imbued  with  the  Luthe- 
ran bigotry  which  did  no  justice  to  any  religion  but  its  own. 

39.  Law  alone  creates  obligation :   no  one  can  be  obliged 
except  towards  a  superior.     But,  to  compel  and  to  oblige  being 
different  things,  it  is  required  for  this  latter  that  we  should 
have  received  some  great  good  at  the  hands  of  a  superior, 
or  have  voluntarily  submitted  to  his  will.     This  seems  to 
involve  an  antecedent  moral  right,  which  Puffendorf  s  general 
theory  denies.3     Barbeyrac,  his  able  and  watchful  commenta- 
tor, derives  obligation  from  our  natural  dependence  on  the 
supreme  authority  of  God,  who  can  punish  the  disobedient 
and  reward  others.     In  order  to  make  laws  obligatory,  it  is 
necessary,  according  to  Puffendorf,  that  we  should  know  both 
the  law  and  the  lawgiver's  authority.     Actions  are  good  or 
evil,  as  they  conform  more  or  less  to  law.     And,  coming  to 
consider  the  peculiar  qualities  of  moral  actions,  he  introduces 
the  distinction  of  perfect  and  imperfect  rights,  objecting  to 
that  of  Grotius  and  the  Roman  lawyers,  expletive  and  distri- 
butive justice.4     This  first  book  of  Puffendorf  is  very  diffuse; 
and  some  chapters  are  wholly  omitted  in  the  abridgment. 

40.  The  natural  state  of  man,  such  as  in  theory  we  may 
suppose,  is  one  in  which  he  was  never  placed,  "  thrown  into 
the  world  at  a  venture,  and  then  left  entirely  to  himself  with 
no  larger  endowments  of  body  or  mind  than  such  as  we  now 
discover  in  men."     This,  however,  he  seems  to  think  physi- 
cally possible  to  have  been,  which  I  should  incline  to  question. 
Man,  in  a  state  of  nature,  is  subject  to  no  earthly  superior ; 
but  we  must  not  infer  thence  that  he  is  incapable  of  law,  and 
has  a  right  to  every  thing  that  is  profitable  to  himself.     But 

.102.  *  C.  8.  8  C.  6.  «  C.  7. 


CHAP.  IV.  LAW  OF  NATURE  AND  NATIONS.  167 

after  discussing  the  position  of  Hobbes,  that  a  state  of  nature 
is  a  state  of  war,  he  ends  by  admitting  that  the  desire  of 
peace  is  too  weak  and  uncertain  a  security  for  its  preservation 
among  mankind.1 

41.  The  law  of  nature  he  derives  not  from  consent  of  na- 
tions, nor  from  personal  utility,  but  from  the   condition   of 
man.     It  is  discoverable  by  reason:    its  obligation  is   from 
God.     He  denies  that  it  is  founded  on  the  intrinsic  honesty 
or  turpitude  of  actions.     It  was   free   to    God   whether   he 
would  create  an  animal  to  whom  the  present  law  of  nature 
should  be  applicable.     But,  supposing  all  things   human   to 
remain  constant,  the  law  of  nature,  though  owing  its  institu- 
tion to  the  free  will  of  God,  remains  unalterable.     He  there- 
fore neither  agrees  wholly  with  those  who  deem  of  this  law 
as  of  one  arbitrary  and  mutable  at  God's  pleasure,  nor  with 
those  who  look  upon  it  as  an  image  of  his  essential  holiness 
and  justice.     For  he  doubts  whether   the   law  of  nature  is 
altogether  conformed  to  the  divine  attributes  as  to  a  type ; 
since  we  cannot  acquire  a  right  with  respect  to  God :  so  that 
his  justice  must  be  of  a  different  kind  from  ours.     Common 
consent,  again,  is  an  insufficient  basis  of  natural  law,  few  men 
having  searched  into  the  foundations  of  their  assent,  even  if 
we  could  find  a  more  general  consent  than  is  the  case.     And 
here  he  expatiates,  in  the  style  of  Montaigne's  school,  on  the 
variety  of  moral  opinions.2     Puffendorf  next   attacks    those 
who  resolve   right   into  self-interest.     But  unfortunately  he 
only  proves  that  men  often  mistake  their  interest.     "  It  is  a 
great  mistake  to  fancy  it  will  be  profitable  to  you  to  take 
away  either  by  fraud  or  violence  what  another  man  has  ac- 
quired by  his  labor ;   since  others  have  not  only  the  power 
of  resisting  you,  but  of  taking  the  same  freedom  with  your 
goods  and  possessions."3      This   is   evidently  no  answer  to 
Hobbes  or  Spinosa. 

42.  The  nature  of  man,  his  wants,  his  powers  of  doing  mis- 
chief to  others,  his  means  of  mutual  assistance,  show  that  he 
cannot   be  supported  in  things  necessary  and  convenient  to 
him  without  society,  so  that  others  may  promote  his  interests. 
Hence  sociableness  is  a  primary  law  of  nature ;  and  all  actions 
tending  towards  it  are  commanded,  as  the  opposite  are  for- 
bidden, by  that  law.     In  this  he  agrees  with  Grotius ;   and, 
after  he   had  become  acquainted  with  Cumberland's  work, 

i  Lib.  U.  c.  2.  J  C.  3.  *  C.  3- 


168  PDFFENDORF.  PART  IV. 

observes  that  the  fundamental  law  of  that  writer,  to  live  for 
the  common  good  and  show  benevolence  towards  all  men,  does 
not  differ  from  his  own.  He  partly  explains,  and  partly 
answers,  the  theory  of  Hobbes.  From  Grotius  he  dissents  in 
denying  that  the  law  of  nature  would  be  binding  without 
religion,  but  does  not  think  the  soul's  immortality  essential  to 
it.1  The  best  division  of  natural  law  is  into  duties  towards 
ourselves  and  towards  others.  But  in  the  abridged  work,  the 
Duties  of  a  Man  and  a  Citizen,  he  adds  those  towards  God. 

43.  The'  former  class  of  duties  he  illustrates  with  much 
prolixity  and  needless  quotation,2  and  passes  to  the  right  of 
self-defence,  which  seems  to  be  the  debatable  frontier  between 
the  two  classes  of  obligation.     In  this  chapter,  Puffendorf  is 
free   from   the   extreme   scrupulousness  of  Grotius ;    yet  he 
differs  from  him,  as  well  as  from  Barbeyrac  and  Locke,  in 
denying  the  right  of  attacking  the  aggressor,  where  a  stranger 
has  been  injured,  unless  where  we  are  bound  to  him   by 
promise.3 

44.  All  persons,  as  is  evident,  are  bound  to  repair  wilful 
injury,  and  even  that  arising  from   their   neglect ;    but   not 
where  they  have  not  been  in   fault.*     Yet   the    civil   action 
ob  pauperiem,  for  casual  damage  by  a  beast  or  slave,  which 
Grotius  held  to   be    merely  of  positive  law,  and  which  our 
own    (in    the    only    applicable    case)    does    not   recognize, 
Puffendorf  thinks  grounded  on  natural  right.     He  considers 
several  questions  of  reparation,  chiefly  such  as  we  find  in 
Grotius.     From  these,  after  some  intermediate  disquisitions 
on  moral  duties,  he  comes  to  the  more  extensive  province  of 
casuistry, — the  obligation  of  promises.5     These,  for  the  most 
part,  give  perfect  rights  which  may  be  enforced,  though  this  is 
not    universal :    hence   promises   may  themselves   be  called 
imperfect  or  perfect.     The  former,  or  nuda  pacta,  seem  to  be 
obligatory  rather  by  the  rules  of  veracity,  and  for  the  sake  of 
maintaining  confidence  among  men,  than  in  strict  justice ;  yet 
he  endeavors  to  refute  the  opinion  of  a  jurist,  who  held  nuda 
pacta  to  involve  no   obligation  beyond  a  compensation  for 
damage.     Free  consent  and  knowledge  of  the  whole  subject 
are  required  for  the  validity  of  a  promise  :  hence  drunkenness 
takes  away  its  obligation.6     Whether  a  minor  is  bound  in  con- 
science, though  not  in  law,  has  been  disputed ;  the  Romish 
casuists  all  denying  it,  unless  he  has  received  an  advantage. 

i  C.  3.  *  C.  4.  »  C.  5.  «  Lib.  iii.  c.  1.  &  C.  i>.  °  C.  6. 


CHAi>.  IV.         LAW  OF  NATUEE  AND  NATIONS.  169 

La  Placette,  it  seems,  after  the  time  of  Puffendorf,  though  a 
very  rigid  moralist,  confines  the  obligation  to  cases  where  the 
other  party  sustains  any  real  damage  by  the  non-performance. 
The  world,  in  some  instances  at  least,  would  exact  more 
than  the  strictest  casuists.  Promises  were  invalidated,  though 
not  always  mutual  contracts,  by  error ;  and  fraud  in  the  other 
party  annuls  a  contract.  There  can  be  no  obligation,  Puffen- 
dorf maintains,  without  a  corresponding  right :  hence  fear 
arising  from  the  fault  of  the  other  party  invalidates  a  promise. 
But  those  made  to  pirates  or  rebels,  not  being  extorted  by 
fear,  are  binding.  Vows  to  God  he  deems  not  binding,  unless 
accepted  by  him ;  but  he  thinks  that  we  may  presume  their 
acceptance  when  they  serve  to  define  or  specify  an  indetermi- 
nate duty,1  Unlawful  promises  must  not  be  performed  by  the 
party  promising  to  commit  an  evil  act ;  and,  as  to  performance 
of  the  other  party's  promise,  he  differs  from  Grotius  in  think- 
ing it  not  binding.  Barbeyrac  concurs  with  Puffendorf,  but 
Paley  holds  the  contrary ;  and  the  common  sentiments  of 
mankind  seem  to  be  on  that  side.2 

45.  The  obligations  of  veracity,  Puffendorf,  after  much 
needless  prolixity  on  the  nature  of  signs  and  words,  deduces 
from  a  tacit  contract  among  mankind,  that  words,  or  signs  of 
intention,  shall  be  used  in  a  definite  sense  which  others  may 
understand.3  He  is  rather  fond  of  these  imaginary  compacts. 
The  laxer  casuists  are  in  nothing  more  distinguishable  from 
the  more  rigid  than  in  the  exceptions  they  allow  to  the  gene- 
ral rule  of  veracity.  Many,  like  Augustin  and  most  of  the 
fathers,  have  laid  it  down  that  all  falsehood  is  unlawful ;  even 
some  of  the  jurists,  when  treating  of  morality,  had  done  the 
same.  But  Puffendorf  gives  considerable  latitude  to  devia- 
tions from  truth,  by  mental  reserve,  by  ambiguous  words,  by 
direct  falsehood.  Barbeyrac,  in  a  long  note,  goes  a  good  deal 
farther,  and  indeed  beyond  any  safe  limit.4  An  oath,  accord- 
ing to  these  writers,  adds  no  peculiar  obligation ;  another 
remarkable  discrepancy  between  their  system  and  that  of  the 

i  C.  6.                       !  C.  7.  and  according  to  any  sound   theory  of 

8  L.  iv.  c.  1.  ethics.     Lying,  he  says,  as  condemned  in 

4  Barbeyrac  admits  that  several  writers  Scripture,  always  means  fraud  or  injury  to 

of  authority  since  Puffendorf  had  main-  others.      His    doctrine    is,    that    we    are 

tained  the  strict  obligation  of  veracity  for  to  speak  the  truth,  or  to  be  silent,  or  to 

its  own  sake ;  Thomasius,  Buddaeus,  Noodt,  feign  and  dissemble,  according  as  our  own 

and,  above  all,  La  Placette.     His  own  no-  lawful  interest,  or  that  of  our  neighbor, 

tions  are  too  much  the  other  way,  both  may  demand  it.    This  is  surely  as  untena- 

acronling  to  the  received  standard  of  hou-  ble  one  way  as  any  paradox  in  Augustin 

orablo  and  decorous  character  among  ineu,  or  La  Placettu  etui  be  the  other. 


170  PUFFENDORF.  PAKT  IV 

theological  casuists.  Oaths  may  be  released  by  the  party  in 
favor  of  whom  they  are  made ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  observe 
whether  the  dispensing  authority  is  really  the  obligee. 

46.  We  now  advance  to  a  different  part  of  moral  philoso- 
phy,—  the  rights  of  property.     Puffendorf  first  inquires  into 
the  natural  right  of  killing  animals  for  food ;    but  does  not 
defend  it  very  well,  resting  this  right  on  the  want  of  mutual 
obligation  between  man  and  brutes.     The  arguments  from 
physiology,  and  the  manifest  propensity  in  mankind  to  devour 
animals,  are  much  stronger.     He  censures  cruelty  towards 
animals,  but  hardly  on  clear  grounds :  the  disregard  of  moral 
emotion,  which  belongs  to  his  philosophy,  prevents  his  judg- 
ing it  rightly.1     Property  itself  in  things  he  grounds  on  an 
express  or  tacit  contract  of  mankind,  while  all  was  yet  in 
common,  that  each  should  possess  a  separate  portion.     This 
covenant  he  supposes  to  have  been  gradually  extended,  as 
men  perceived  the  advantage  of  separate  possession,  lands 
having  been  cultivated  in  common  after  severally  had  been 
established  in  houses  and  movable  goods ;   and  he  refutes 
those  who  maintain  property  to  be  coeval  with  mankind,  and 
immediately  founded  on  the  law  of  nature.2     Nothing  can  be 
the  subject  of  property  which  is  incapable  of  exclusive  occu- 
pation ;   not  therefore  the  ocean,  though  some  narrow  seas 
may  be  appropriated.3     In  the  remainder  of  this  fourth  book, 
he  treats  on  a  variety  of  subjects  connected  with  property, 
which   carry  us  over  a  wide  field  of  natural  and  positive 
jurisprudence. 

47.  The  fifth  book  of  Puffendorf  relates  to  price,  and  to 
all  contracts  onerous  or  lucrative,  according  to  the  distinction 
of  the  jurists,  with  the  rules  of  their  interpretation.     It  is  a 
running  criticism  on  the  Roman  law,  comparing  it  with  right, 
reason,  and  justice.     Price  he  divides  into  proper  and  emi- 
nent :  the  first  being  what  we  call  real  value,  or  capacity  of 
procuring  things  desirable  by  means  of  exchange ;  the  second, 
the  money  value.     "What  is  said  on  this  subject  would  now 
seem  commonplace  and  prob'x ;  but  it  is  rather  interesting  to 
observe  the  beginnings  of  political   economy.      Money,  he 
thinks,  was  introduced  by  an  agreement  of  civilized  nations, 
as  a  measure  of  value.     Puffendorf,  of  more  enlarged  views 
than  Grotius,  vindicates  usury,  which  the  other  had  given  up  ; 

1  c.  3. 

2  C.   4.     Barbeyrac  more  wisely  denies  this  assumed  compact,  and  rests  the  right 
of  property  on  individual  occupancy.  *  0.  6. 


CHAP.  IV.      PUFFFJSTDORF  AND  PALEY  COMPARED.  171 

and  mentions  the  evasions  usually  practised,  such  as  the  grant 
of  an  annuity  for  a  limited  term. 

48.  In  the  sixth  book,  we  have  disquisitions  on  matrimony 
and  the  rights  incident  to  it,  on  paternal  and  on  herile  power. 
Among  other  questions,  he  raises  one  whether  the  husband 
has  any  natural  dominion  over  the  wife.  This  he  thinks  hard 
to  prove,  except  as  his  sex  gives  him  an  advantage ;  but  fit- 
ness to  govern  does  not  create  a  right.  He  has  recourse, 
therefore,  to  his  usual  solution,  —  her  tacit  or  express  promise 
of  obedience.  Polygamy  he  deems  contrary  to  the  law  of 
nature,  but  not  incest,  except  in  the  direct  line.  This  is  con- 
sonant to  what  had  been  the  general  determination  of  philo- 
sophers.1 The  right  of  parents  he  derives  from  the  general 
duty  of  sociableness,  which  makes  preservation  of  children 
necessary,  and  on  the  affection  implanted  in  them  by  nature ; 
also  on  a  presumed  consent  of  the  children  in  return  for  their 
maintenance.2  In  a  state  of  nature,  this  command  belongs  to 
the  mother,  unless  she  has  waived  it  by  a  matrimonial  con- 
tract. In  childhood,  the  fruits  of  the  child's  labor  belong  to 
the  father,  though  the  former  seems  to  be  capable  of  receiv- 
ing gifts.  Fathers,  as  heads  of  families,  have  a  kind  of 
sovereignty,  distinct  from  the  paternal,  to  which  adult  children 
residing  with  them  are  submitted.  But  after  their  emancipa- 
tion, by  leaving  their  father's  house,  which  does  not  absolutely 
require  his  consent,  they  are  bound  only  to  duty  and  reve- 
rence. The  power  of  a  master  over  his  servant  is  not  by 
nature,  nor  by  the  law  of  war,  but  originally  by  a  contract 
founded  on  necessity.  War  increased  the  number  of  those 
in  servitude.  A  slave,  whatever  Hobbes  may  say,  is  capable 
of  being  injured  by  his  master;  but  the  laws  of  some  nations 
give  more  power  to  the  latter  than  is  warranted  by  those  of 
nature.  Servitude  implies  only  an  obligation  to  perpetual 
labor  for  a  recompense  (namely,  at  least  maintenance)  :  the 
evil  necessary  to  this  condition  has  been  much  exaggerated 
by  opinion.3 

49.  Puffendorf  and  Cumberland  are  the  two  great  promo- 
ters, if  not  founders,  of  that  school  in  ethics,  which,  Puffendorf 
abandoning  the  higher  ground  of  both  philosophers  andPaiey 
and  theologians,  that  of  an  intrinsic  fitness  and  pro-  comP*red- 
priety  in  actions,  resolved  them  all  into  their  conduciveness 
towards  good.  Their  utik,  indeed,  is  very  different  from  what 

i  L.  Yl.  c.  1.  »  C.  2.  »  C.  » 


172  ROCHEFOUCAULT.  PART  IV. 

Cicero  has  so  named,  which  is  merely  personal ;  but  it  is  dif- 
ferent also  from  his  honestum.  The  sociableness  of  Puffen- 
dorf  is  perhaps  much  the  same  with  the  general  good  of 
Cumberland,  but  is  somewhat  less  comprehensive  and  less 
clear.  Paley,  who  had  not  read  a  great  deal,  had  certainly 
read  Puffendorf:  he  has  borrowed  from  him  several  minor 
illustrations,  such  as  the  equivocal  promise  of  Timur  (called 
by  Paley,  Temures)  to  the  garrison  of  Sebastia,  and  the  rules 
for  division  of  profits  in  partnership.  Their  minds  were  in 
some  respects  alike;  both  phlegmatic,  honest,  and  sincere, 
without  warmth  or  fancy ;  yet  there  seems  a  more  thorough 
good-nature  and  kindliness  of  heart  in  our  countryman. 
Though  an  ennobled  German,  Puffendorf  had  as  little  respect 
for  the  law  of  honor  as  Paley  himself.  They  do  not,  indeed, 
resemble  each  other  in  their  modes  of  writing :  one  was  very 
laborious,  the  other  very  indolent ;  one  sometimes  misses  his 
mark  by  circuity,  the  other  by  precipitance.  The  quotations  in 
Puffendorf  are  often  as  thickly  strewed  as  in  Grotius,  though 
he  takes  less  from  the  poets ;  but  he  seems  not  to  build  upon 
their  authority,  which  gives  them  still  more  the  air  of  super- 
fluity. His  theory,  indeed,  which  assigns  no  weight  to  any 
thing  but  a  close  geometrical  deduction  from  axioms,  is  incom- 
patible with  much  deference  to  authority ;  and  he  sets  aside 
the  customs  of  mankind  as  unstable  and  arbitrary.  He  has 
not  taken  much  from  Hobbes,  whose  principles  are  far  from 
his,  but  a  great  deal  from  Grotius.  The  leading  difference 
between  the  treatises  of  these  celebrated  men  is,  that,  while 
the  former  contemplated  the  law  that  ought  to  be  observed 
among  independent  communities  as  his  primary  object,  to 
render  which  more  evident  he  lays  down  the  fundamental 
principles  of  private  right  or  the  law  of  nature,  the  latter, 
on  the  other  hand,  not  only  begins  with  natural  law,  but 
makes  it  the  great  theme  of  his  inquiries. 

50.  Few  books  have  been  more  highly  extolled  or  more 
R.ohefou-  severely  blamed  than  the  Thoughts  or  Maxims  of  the 
cauit.  Duke  of  La  Rochefoucault.  They  have,  indeed, 
the  greatest  advantages  for  popularity ;  the  production  of  a 
man  less  distinguished  by  his  high  rank  than  by  his  active 
participation  in  the  factions  of  his  country  at  a  time  when 
they  reached  the  limits  of  civil  war,  and  by  his  brilliancy 
among  the  accomplished  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV. ;  concise  and 
energetic  in  expression ;  reduced  to  those  short  aphorisms 


CHAP.  IV.  ROCHEFOUCAULT.  173 

which  leave  much  to  the  reader's  acuteness,  and  yet  save  his 
labor ;  not  often  obscure,  and  never  wearisome ;  an  evident 
generalization  of  long  experience,  without  pedantry,  without 
method,  without  deductive  reasonings,  yet  wearing  an  appear- 
ance at  least  of  profundity, — they  delight  the  intelligent  though 
indolent  man  of  the  world,  and  must  be  read  with  some  admi- 
ration by  the  philosopher.  Among  the  books  in  ancient  and 
modern  times  which  record  the  conclusions  of  observing  men 
on  the  moral  qualities  of  their  fellows,  a  high  place  should 
be  reserved  for  the  Maxims  of  Rochefoucault. 

51.  The  censure  that  has  so  heavily  fallen  upon  this  writer 
is  founded  on  his  proneness  to  assign  a  low  and  selfish  motive 
to  human  actions,  and  even  to  those  which  are  most  usually 
denominated  virtuous.  It  is  impossible  to  dispute  the  partial 
truth  of  this  charge.  Yet  it  may  be  pleaded,  that  many  of  his 
maxims  are  not  universal  even  in  their  enunciation ;  and  that, 
in  others,  where,  for  the  sake  of  a  more  effective  expression, 
the  position  seems  general,  we  ought  to  understand  it  with 
such  limitations  as  our  experience  may  suggest.  The  society 
with  which  the  Duke  of  La  Rochefoucault  was  conversant 
could  not  elevate  his  notions  of  disinterested  probity  in  man, 
or  of  unblemished  purity  in  woman.  Those  who  call  them- 
selves the  world,  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  set  aside,  in  their 
remarks  on  human  nature,  all  the  species  but  themselves,  and 
sometimes  generalize  their  maxims,  to  an  amusing  degree,  from 
the  manners  and  sentiments  which  have  grown  up  in  the 
atmosphere  of  a  court  or  an  aristocratic  society.  Rochefou- 
cault was  of  far  too  reflecting  a  mind  to  be  confounded  with 
such  mere  worldlings ;  yet  he  bears  witness  to  the  contracted 
observation  and  the  precipitate  inferences  which  an  inter- 
course with  a  single  class  of  society  scarcely  fails  to  generate. 
The  causticity  of  Rochefoucault  is  always  directed  against  the 
false  virtues  of  mankind,  but  never  touches  the  reality  of 
moral  truths,  and  leaves  us  less  injured  than  the  cold,  heartless 
indifference  to  right  which  distils  from  the  pages  of  Hobbes. 
Nor  does  he  deal  in  those  sweeping  denials  of  goodness 
<o  human  nature  which  are  so  frequently  hazarded  under  the 
mask  of  religion.  His  maxims  are  not  exempt  from  defects 
of  a  different  kind :  they  are  sometimes  refined  to  a  degree  of 
obscurity,  and  sometimes,  under  an  epigrammatic  turn,  convey 
little  more  than  a  trivial  meaning.  Perhaps,  however,  it 
would  be  just  to  say  that  one-third  of  the  number  deserve 


174  LA  BRUTfiRE.  PART  IV 

to  be  remembered,  as  at  least  partially  true  and  useful ;  and 
this  is  a  large  proportion,  if  we  exclude  all  that  are  not  in 
some  measure  original. 

52.  The  Characters  of  La  Bruyere,  published  in  1687, 
La  Bru  Are  aPProac'1  to  tne  Maxims  of  La  Rochefoucault  by  their 
refinement,  their  brevity,  their  general  tendency  to 
an  unfavorable  explanation  of  human  conduct.  This,  never- 
theless, is  not  so  strongly  marked;  and  the  picture  of  selfish- 
ness wants  the  darkest  touches  of  his  contemporary's  coloring. 
La  Bruyere  had  a  model  in  antiquity, — Theophrastus,  whose 
short  book  of  Characters  he  had  himself  translated,  and  pre- 
fixed to  his  own ;  a  step  not  impolitic  for  his  own  glory,  since 
the  Greek  writer,  with  no  contemptible  degree  of  merit,  has 
been  incomparably  surpassed  by  his  imitator.  Many  changes 
in  the  condition  of  society ;  the  greater  diversity  of  ranks  and 
occupations  in  modern  Europe ;  the  influence  of  women  over 
the  other  sex,  as  well  as  their  own  varieties  of  character  and 
manners;  the  effects  of  religion,  learning,  chivalry,  royalty, — 
have  given  a  range  to  this  very  pleasing  department  of  moral 
literature,  which  no  ancient  could  have  compassed.  Nor  has 
Theophrastus  taken  much  pains  to  search  the  springs  of  cha- 
racter ;  his  delineations  are  bold  and  clear,  but  merely  in  out- 
line ;  we  see  more  of  manners  than  of  nature,  and  the  former 
more  in  general  classes  than  in  portraiture.  La  Bruyere 
has  often  painted  single  persons ;  whether  accurately  or  no, 
we  cannot  at  this  time  determine,  but  with  a  felicity  of  de- 
scription which  at  once  renders  the  likeness  probable,  and 
suggests  its  application  to  those  we  ourselves  have  seen.  His 
general  reflections,  like  those  of  Rochefoucault,  are  brilliant 
with  antithesis  and  epigrammatic  conciseness ;  sometimes  per- 
haps not  quite  just  or  quite  perspicuous.  But  he  pleases  more, 
on  the  whole,  from  his  greater  variety,  his  greater  liveliness, 
and  his  gentler  spirit  of  raillery.  Nor  does  he  forget  to 
mingle  the  praise  of  some  with  his  satire.  But  he  is  rather  a 
bold  writer  for  his  age  and  his  position  in  the  court ;  and  what 
looks  like  flattery  may  well  have  been  ironical.  Few  have 
been  more  imitated,  as  well  as  more  admired,  than  La 
Bruyere,  who  fills  up  the  list  of  those  whom  France  has 
boasted  as  most  conspicuous  for  their  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  The  others  are  Montaigne,  Charron,  Pascal,  and 
Rochefoucault;  but  we  might  withdraw  the  second  name 
without  injustice. 


CHAP.  IV.         EDUCATION— MILTON'S  TRACTATE.  175 

53.  Moral  philosophy  comprehends  in  its  literature  what- 
ever has  been  written  on  the  best  theory  and  pre-  Education, 
cepts  of  moral  education,  disregarding  what  is  con-   Milton's 
fined  to  erudition,  though  this  may  frequently  be 
partially  treated  in  works  of  the  former  class.     Education, 
notwithstanding   its    recognized    importance,   was    miserably 
neglected  in  England,  and  quite  as  much  perhaps  in  every 
part  of  Europe.     Schools,  kept  by  low-born,  illiberal  pedants, 
teaching  little,  and  that  little  ill.  without  regard  to  any  judi- 
cious discipline  or  moral  culture,  on  the  one  hand,  or,  on  the 
other,  a  pretence  of  instruction  at  home  under  some  ignorant 
and  servile  tutor,  seem  to  have  been  the  alternatives  of  our 
juvenile  gentry.     Milton  raised  his  voice  agaiast  these  faulty 
methods  in  his  short  Tractate  on  Education.     This  abounds 
with  bursts  of  his  elevated  spirit ;  and  sketches  out  a  model  of 
public  colleges,  wherein  the  teaching  should  be   more   com- 
prehensive,  more   liberal,  more   accommodated   to  what   he 
deems  the  great  aim  of  education,  than  what  was  in  use. 
"  That,"  he  says,  "  I  call  a  complete  and  generous  education 
which  fits  a  man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnani- 
mously all  the  offices,  both  private  and  public,  of  peace  and 
war."     But.  when  Milton  descends  to  specify  the  course  of 
studies  he  would  recommend,  it  appears  singularly  ill-chosen 
and  impracticable,  nearly  confined  to  ancient  writers,  even  in 
mathematics  and  other  subjects  where  they  could  not  be  suffi- 
cient, and  likely  to  leave  the  student  very  far  from  that  apti- 
tude for  offices  of  war  and  peace  which  he  had  held  forth  as 
the  reward  of  his  diligence. 

54.  Locke,  many  years  afterwards,  turned  his  thoughts  to 
education  with   all   the   advantages   that   a   strong  L^,,,,,, 
understanding  and  entire  disinterestedness  could  give  Education. 

,  .  ,     A  t       i  i  •  •  -Ai  Its  merits. 

him ;  but,  as  we  should  imagine,  with  some  necessa- 
ry deficiencies  of  experience,  though  we  hardly  perceive  much 
of  them  in  his  writings.  He  looked  on  the  methods  usual  in 
his  age  with  severity,  or,  some  would  say,  with  prejudice ;  yet 
I  know  not  by  what  proof  we  can  refute  his  testimony.  In 
his  Treatise  on  Education,  which  may  be  reckoned  an  intro- 
duction to  that  on  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  since 
the  latter  is  but  a  scheme  of  that  education  an  adult  person 
should  give  himself,  he  has  uttered,  to  say  the  least,  more 
good  sense  on  the  subject  than  will  be  found  in  any  preceding 
writer.  Locke  was  not  like  the  pedants  of  his  own,  or  other 


176  LOCKE  ON  EDUCATION.  PART  IV. 

ages,  who  think  that  to  pour  their  wordy  book-learning  into 
the  memory  is  the  true  discipline  of  childhood.  The  culture 
of  the  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  in  their  most  extensive 
sense,  the  health  of  the  body,  the  accomplishments  which 
common  utility  or  social  custom  has  rendered  valuable,  enter 
into  his  idea  of  the  best  model  of  education,  conjointly  at  least 
with  any  knowledge  that  can  be  imparted  by  books.  The 
ancients  had  written  in  the  same  spirit:  in  Xenophon,  in 
Plato,  in  Aristotle,  the  noble  conception  which  Milton  has 
expressed,  of  forming  the  perfect  man,  is  always  predominant 
over  mere  literary  instruction,  if  indeed  the  latter  can  be  said 
to  appear  at  all  in  their  writings  on  this  subject ;  but  we  had 
become  the  dupes  of  schoolmasters  in  our  riper  years,  as  we 
had  been  their  slaves  in  our  youth.  Much  has  been  written, 
and  often  well,  since  the  days  of  Locke :  but  he  is  the  chief 
source  from  which  it  has  been  ultimately  derived ;  and,  though 
the  Emile  is  more  attractive  in  manner,  it  may  be  doubtful 
whether  it  is  as  rational  and  practicable  as  the  Treatise  on 
Education.  If  they  have  both  the  same  defect,  that  their 
authors  wanted  sufficient  observation  of  children,  it  is  certain 
that  the  caution  and  sound  judgment  of  Locke  have  rescued 
him  better  from  error. 

55.  There  are,  indeed,  from  this  or  from  other  causes,  seve- 
.    ral  passages  in  the  Treatise  on  Education  to  which 

And  defects.  e  ... 

we  cannot  give  an  unhesitating  assent.  Locke  ap- 
pears to  have  somewhat  exaggerated  the  efficacy  of  education. 
This  is  an  error  on  the  right  side  in  a  work  that  aims  at  per- 
suasion in  a  practical  matter;  but  we  are  now  looking  at 
theoretical  truth  alone.  "  I  think  I  may  say,"  he  begins,  "  that, 
of  all  the  men  we  meet  with,  nine  parts  of  ten  are  what  they 
are,  good  or  evil,  useful  or  not,  by  their  education.  It  is  this 
which  makes  the  great  difference  in  mankind.  The  little  or 
almost  insensible  impressions  on  our  tender  infancies  have 
very  important  and  lasting  consequences ;  and  there  'tis  as  in 
the  fountains  of  some  rivers,  where  a  gentle  application  of  the 
hand  turns  the  flexible  waters  into  channels  that  make  them 
take  quite  contrary  courses ;  and,  by  this  little  direction  given 
them  at  first  in  the  source,  they  receive  different  tendencies, 
and  arrive  at  last  at  very  remote  and  distant  places."  "I 
imagine,"  he  adds  soon  afterwards,  "the  minds  of  children  as 
easily  turned  this  or  that  way  as  water  itself." 1 

1  Treatise  on  Education,  §  2.    "  The  difference,"  he  afterwards  says,  "  to  be 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  ON  EDUCATION.  177 

56.  This  passage  is  an   instance   of  Locke's   unfortunate 
fondness  for   analogical   parallels,  which,  as  far   as   I   have 
observed,  much  more  frequently  obscure  a  philosophical  theo- 
rem than  shed  any  light  upon  it.     Nothing  would  be  easier 
than   to   confirm   the    contrary  proposition   by  such  fanciful 
analogies  from  external   nature.     In   itself,   the   position   is 
hyperbolical  to  extravagance.     It  is  no  more  disparagement 
to  the  uses  of  education,  that  it  will  not  produce  the   like 
effects  upon  every  individual,  than  it  is  to  those  of  agriculture 
(I  purposely  use  this  sort  of  idle  analogy),  that  we  do  not  reap 
the  same  quantity  of  corn  from  every  soil.     Those  who  are 
conversant  with  children  on  a  large  scale  will,  I  believe,  unani- 
mously deny  this  levelling  efficacy  of  tuition.     The  variety  of 
characters  even  in  children  of  the  same  family,  where   the 
domestic  associations  of  infancy  have  run  in  the  same  trains, 
and  where  many  physical   congenialities   may  produce,  and 
ordinarily  do  produce,  a  moral  resemblance,  is  of  sufficiently 
frequent  occurrence  to  prove  that  in  human  beings  there  are 
intrinsic  dissimilitudes,  which   no   education   can   essentially 
overcome.     Among  mere  theorists,  however,  this  hypothesis 
seems  to  be  popular.     And  as  many  of  these  extend  their 
notion  of  the  plasticity  of  human  nature  to  the  effects   of 
government  and  legislation,  which  is  a  sort   of  continuance 
of  the  same  controlling  power,  they  are  generally  induced  to 
disregard  past  experience  of  human  affairs,  because  they  flat- 
ter themselves,  that,  under  a  more  scientific  administration, 
mankind  will  become  something  very  different  from  what  they 
have  been. 

57.  In  the  age  of  Locke,  if  we  may  confide  in  what  he  tells 
us,  the  domestic  education  of  children  must  have  been  of  the 
worst  kind.     "  If  we  look,"  he  says,  "  into  the  common  man- 
agement of  children,  we  shall  have  reason  to  wonder,  in  the 
great  dissoluteness  of  manners  which  the  world  complains  of, 
that  there  are  any  footsteps  at  all  left  of  virtue.     I  desire  to 
know  what  vice  can  be  named  which  parents  and  those  about 
children  do  not  season  them  with,  and  drop  into  them  the 
seeds  of,  as  often  as  they  are  capable  to  receive  them."     The 
mode  of  treatment  seems  to  have  been  passionate  and  often 
barbarous  severity  alternating  with  foolish  indulgence.     Their 
spirits   were   often  broken   down,   and  their  ingenuousness 

(bund  in  the  manners  and  abilities  of  men  \a  owing  more  to  their  education  than  to 
any  thing  else."  —  §  33 
VOL.   IV.  12 


178  LOCKE  ON  EDUCATION.  PART  IV. 

destroyed,  by  the  former ;  their  habits  of  self-will  and  sensu- 
ality confirmed  by  the  latter.  This  was  the  method  pursued 
by  parents ;  but  the  pedagogues  of  course  confined  themselves 
to  their  favorite  scheme  of  instruction  and  reformation  by 
punishment.  Dugald  Stewart  has  animadverted  on  the  aus- 
terity of  Locke's  rules  of  education.1  And  this  is  certainly 
the  case  in  some  respects.  He  recommends  that  children 
should  be  taught  to  expect  nothing  because  it  will  give  them 
pleasure,  but  only  what  will  be  useful  to  them ;  a  rule  fit,  in 
its  rigid  meaning,  to  destroy  the  pleasure  of  the  present 
moment,  in  the  only  period  of  life  that  the  present  moment 
can  be  really  enjoyed.  No  father  himself,  Locke  neither 
knew  how  ill  a  parent  can  spare  the  love  of  his  child,  nor  how 
ill  a  child  can  want  the  constant  and  practical  sense  of  a 
parent's  love.  But,  if  he  was  led  too  far  by  deprecating 
the  mischievous  indulgence  he  had  sometimes  witnessed,  he 
made  some  amends  by  his  censures  on  the  prevalent  discipline 
of  stripes.  Of  this  he  speaks  with  the  disapprobation  natural 
to  a  mind  already  schooled  in  the  habits  of  reason  and  virtue.2 
"I  cannot  think  any  correction  useful  to  a  child  where  the 
shame  of  suffering  for  having  done  amiss  does  not  work  more 
upon  him  than  the  pain."  Esteem  and  disgrace  are  the 
rewards  and  punishments  to  which  he  principally  looks.  And 
surely  this  is  a  noble  foundation  for  moral  discipline.  He  also 
recommends  that  children  should  be  much  with  their  parents, 
and  allowed  all  reasonable  liberty.  I  cannot  think  that  Stew- 
art's phrase  "hardness  of  character,"  which  he  account?  for  by 
the  early  intercourse  of  Locke  with  the  Puritans,  is  justly 
applicable  to  any  thing  that  we  know  of  him ;  and  many  more 
passages  in  this  very  treatise  might  be  adduced  to  prove  his 
kindliness  of  disposition,  than  will  appear  to  any  judicious 
person  over-austere.  He  found,  in  fact,  every  thing  wrong ; 
a  false  system  of  reward  and  punishment,  a  false  view  of  the 
objects  of  education,  a  false  selection  of  studies,  false  methods 
of  pursuing  them.  Where  so  much  was  to  be  corrected,  it 

1  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encjclop.  ed  moped  creature,  who  however  with  his 
Britann.  unnatural  sobriety  he  may   please  silly 

2  "If  severity   carried  to   the  highest  people,  who  commend  tauie,  inactive  cliil- 
pitch  does  prevail,  and  works  a  cure  upon  dren,  because  they  make  no  noise,   nor 
the  present  unruly  distemper,  it  is  often  give  them  any  trouble ;   yut  at  la.st  will 
bringing  in  the  room  of  it  a  worse  and  probably  prove  as  uncomfortable  a  thins; 
more  dangerous  disease  by  breaking  the  to  his  friends,  as  he  will  be'  all  his  life  ao 
miud ;  and  then,  in  the  place  of  a  disor-  useless  thing  to  himself  and  others." 
derly  young  fellow,  you  have  a  low-spirit-  §  51. 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  ON  EDUCATION.  179 

was  perhaps  natural  to  be  too  sanguine  about  the  effects  of 
the  remedy. 

58.  Of  the  old  dispute  as  to  public  and  private  education, 
he  says,  that  both  sides  have  their  inconveniences,  but  inclines 
to  prefer  the  latter,  influenced,  as  is  evident,  rather  by  disgust 
at  the  state  of  our  schools  than  by  any  general  principle.1 
For  he  insists  much  on  the  necessity  of  giving  a  boy  a  suffi- 
cient knowledge  of  what  he  is  to  expect  in  the  world.     "  The 
longer  he  is  kept  hoodwinked,  the  less  he  will  see  when  he 
comes  abroad  into  open  daylight,  and  be  the  more  exposed  to 
be  a  prey  to  himself  and  others."     But  this  experience  will, 
as  is  daily  seen,  not  be  supplied  by  a  tutor's  lectures,  any 
more  than  by  books ;   nor  can  be  given  by  any  course  save 
a  public  education.     Locke  urges  the  necessity  of  having  a 
tutor  well-bred,  and  with  knowledge  of  the  world,  the  ways, 
the  humors,  the  follies,  the  cheats,  the  faults  of  the  age  he  is 
fallen  into,  and  particularly  of  the  country  he  lives  in,  as  of 
far  more  importance  than  his  scholarship.     "  The  only  fence 
against  the  world  is  a  thorough  knowledge   of  it.  ...  He 
that  thinks  not  this  of  more  moment  to  his  son,  and  for  which 
he  more  needs  a  governor,  than  the  languages  and  learned 
sciences,  forgets  of  how  much  more  use  it  is  to  judge  right  of 
men  and  manage  his  affairs  wisely  with  them,  than  to  speak 
Greek  and  Latin,  and  argue  in  mood  and  figure,  or  to  have 
his  head  filled  with  the  abstruse  speculations  of  natural  phi- 
losophy and  metaphysics ;    nay,  than   to   be  well  versed   in 
Greek  and  Roman  writers,  though  that  be  much  better  for 
a  gentleman  than   to   be   a   good  Peripatetic  or  Cartesian ; 
because  these  ancient  authors  observed  and  painted  mankind 
well,  and  give  the  best  light  into  that  kind   of  knowledge. 
He  that  goes  into  the  eastern  parts  of  Asia  will  find  able  and 
acceptable  men  without   any  of  these ;    but  without  virtue, 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  civility,  an  accomplished   and 
valuable  man  can  be  found  nowhere."2 

59.  It  is  to  be  remembered,  that  the  person  whose  educa- 
'tion  Locke  undertakes  to  fashion  is  an  English   gentleman. 

Virtue,  wisdom,  breeding,  and  learning,  are  desirable  for  such 
a  one  in  their  order,  but  the  last  not  so  much  as  the  rest.8  It 
must  be  had,  he  says,  but  only  as  subservient  to  greater  quali- 
ties. No  objections  have  been  more  frequently  raised  against 
the  scheme  of  Locke  than  on  account  of  his  depreciation  of 
i  §  70.  »  §  94  »  §  138. 


180  LOCKE  ON  EDUCATION.  1  ART  IV. 

classical  literature  and  of  the  study  of  the  learned  languages. 
This  is  not  wholly  true :  Latin  he  reckons  absolutely  necessa- 
ry for  a  gentleman,  though  it  is  absurd  that  those  should  learn 
Latin  who  are  designed  for  trade,  and  never  look  again  at 
a  Latin  book.1  If  he  lays  not  so  much  stress  on  Greek  as  a 
gentleman's  study,  though  he  by  no  means  would  abandon  it, 
it  is  because,  in  fact,  most  gentlemen,  especially  in  his  age, 
have  done  very  well  without  it ;  and  nothing  can  be  deemed 
indispensable  in  education  of  a  child,  the  want  of  which  does 
not  leave  a  manifest  deficiency  in  the  man.  "No  man,"  he 
observes,  "can  pass  for  a  scholar  who  is  ignorant  of  the 
Greek  language.  But  I  am  not  here  considering  of  the  edu 
cation  of  a  professed  scholar,  but  of  a  gentleman."1* 

60.  The  peculiar  methods  recommended  by  Locke  in  learn- 
ing languages,  especially  the  Latin,  appear   to  be   of  very 
doubtful  utility,  though  some  of  them  do  not  want  strenuour 
supporters  in  the   present   day.     Such    are    the   method   of 
interlinear  translation,  the  learning   of  mere  words  without 
grammar,  and,  above  all,  the  practice  of  talking  Latin  with  *>, 
tutor  who  speaks  it  well, — a  phoenix  whom  he  has  not  shown 
us  where  to  find.3     In  general,  he  seems   to   underrate  the 
difficulty  of  acquiring  what  even  he  would  call  a  competent 
learning,  and,  what  is  of  more  importance  and  no  rare  mistake 
in  those  who  write  on  this  subject,  to  confound  the  acquisition 
of  a  language  with  the  knowledge  of  its  literature.     The  best 
ancient  writers  both  in  Greek  and  Latin  furnish  so  much  of 
wise  reflection,  of  noble  sentiment,  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and 
salutary,  that  no  one  who  has  had  the  happiness   to   know 
and  feel  what  they  are,  will  desire  to  see  their  study  excluded 
or  stinted  in  its  just  extent,  wherever  the  education  of  those 
who  are  to  be  the  first  and  best  of  the  country  is  carried 
forward.     And  though  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  mankind 
must,  by  the  very  force  of  terms,  remain  in  the  ranks  of  intel- 
lectual mediocrity,  it  is  an  ominous  sign  of  any  times  when  no 
thought  is  taken  for  those  who  may  rise  beyond  it. 

61.  In  every  other  part  of  instruction,  Locke  has  still  an 
eye  to  what  is  useful  for  a  gentleman.      French   he   justly 
thinks  should  be  taught  before  Latin  :  no  geometry  is  required 
by  him  beyond  Euclid ;  but  he  recommends  geography,  histo- 
ry and  chronology,  drawing,  and,  what  may  be  thought  now  as 
little  necessary  for  a  gentleman  as  Homer,  the  jurisprudence 

1  §  189  2  §  195.  *  §  165. 


CHAP.  IV.        FENELON  ON  FEMALE  EDUCATION.  181 

of  Grotius  and  Puffendorf.  He  strongly  urges  the  writing 
English  well,  though  a  thing  commonly  neglected ;  and,  after 
speaking  with  contempt  of  the  artificial  systems  of  logic  and 
rhetoric,  sends  the  pupil  to  Chillingworth  for  the  best  exam- 
ple of  reasoning,  and  to  Tully  for  the  best  idea  of  eloquence. 
"And  let  him  read  those  things  that  are  well  writ  in  English 
to  perfect  his  style  in  the  purity  of  our  language." 1 

62.  It  would  be  to  transcribe  half  this  treatise,  were  we  to 
mention  all  the  judicious   and   minute  observations   on   the 
management   of  children  it  contains.     Whatever   may  have 
been  Locke's  opportunities,  he  certainly  availed  himself  of 
them  to  the  utmost.     It  is  as  far  as  possible  from  a  theoreti- 
cal book ;   and,  in  many  respects,  the  best  of  modern  times, 
such  as  those  of  the  Edgeworth  name,  might  pass  for  develop- 
ments  of  his   principles.      The    patient   attention   to   every 
circumstance,  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  genius  of  Locke, 
is  in  none  of  his  works  better  displayed.     His  rules  for  the 
health  of  children,  though  sometimes  trivial,  since  the  subject 
has  been  more  regarded ;  his  excellent  advice  as  to  checking 
effeminacy  and  timorousness ;  his  observations  on  their  curiosi- 
ty, presumption,  idleness,  on  their  plays  and  recreations, — 
bespeak  an  intense  though  calm  love  of  truth  and  goodness ; 
a  quality  which  few  have  possessed  more  fully  or  known  so 
well  how  to  exert  as  this  admirable  philosophei*. 

63.  No  one  had  condescended  to  spare  any  thoughts   for 
female  education,  till  Fenelon,  in  1688,   published  Fenelonon 
his  earliest  work,  Sur  1'Education  des  Filles.     This   female 
was  the  occasion  of  his  appointment  as  preceptor  to  e 

the  grandchildren  of  Louis  XIV. ;  for  much  of  this  treatise, 
and  perhaps  the  most  valuable  part,  is  equally  applicable  to 
both  sexes.  It  may  be  compared  with  that  of  Locke,  written 
nearly  at  the  same  time,  and  bearing  a  great  resemblance 
in  its  spirit.  Both  have  the  education  of  a  polished  and  high- 
bred class,  rather  than  of  scholars,  before  them  ;  and  Fene- 
lon rarely  loses  sight  of  his  peculiar  object,  or  gives  any 
rule  which  is  not  capable  of  being  practised  in  female  edu- 
cation. In  many  respects  he  coincides  with  our  English 
philosopher,  and  observes  with  him  that  a  child  learns  much 
before  he  speaks  ;  so  that  the  cultivation  of  his  moral  qualities 
can  hardly  begin  too  soon.  Both  complain  of  the  severity  of 
parents,  and  deprecate  the  mode  of  bringing  up  by  punish- 


182  FENELON  ON  FEMALE  EDUCATION.         PART  IV. 

ment.  Both  advise  the  exhibition  of  virtue  and  religion  in 
pleasing  lights,  and  censure  the  austere  dogmatism  with 
which  they  were  inculcated,  before  the  mind  was  sufficiently 
developed  to  apprehend  them.  But  the  characteristic  sweet- 
ness of,  Fenelon's  disposition  is  often  shown  in  contrast  with 
the  somewhat  stern  inflexibility  of  Locke.  His  theory  is 
uniformly  indulgent;  his  method  of  education  is  a  labor  of 
love ;  a  desire  to  render  children  happy  for  the  time,  as  well 
as  afterwards,  runs  through  his  book ;  and  he  may  perhaps  be 
considered  the  founder  of  that  school  which  has  endeavored  to 
dissipate  the  terrors  and  dry  the  tears  of  childhood.  "  I  have 
seen,"  he  says,  "  many  children  who  have  learned  to  read  in 
play :  we  have  only  to  read  entertaining  stories  to  them  out 
of  a  book,  and  insensibly  teach  them  the  letters ;  they  will 
soon  desire  to  go  for  themselves  to  the  source  of  their  amuse- 
ment." "  Books  should  be  given  them  well  bound  and  gilt, 
with  good  engravings,  clear  types ;  for  all  that  captivates 
the  imagination  facilitates  study:  the  choice  should  be  such 
as  contain  short  and  marvellous  stories."  These  details  are 
now  trivial ;  but  in  the  days  of  Fenelon  they  may  have  been 
otherwise. 

64.  In  several  passages,  he  displays  not  only  a  judicious 
spirit,  but  an  observation  that  must  have  been  long  exercised. 
"  Of  all  the  qualities  we  perceive  in  children,"  he  remarks, 
"  there  is  only  one  that  can  be  trusted  as  likely  to  be  durable, 
which  is  sound  judgment :  it  always  grows  with  their  growth, 
if  it  is  well  cultivated ;  but  the  grace  of  childhood  is  effaced  ; 
its  vivacity  is  extinguished ;  even  its  sensibility  is  often  lost, 
because  their  own    passions   and   the    intercourse    of  others 
insensibly  harden  the  hearts  of  young  persons  who  enter  into 
the  world."     It  is,  therefore,  a  solid  and  just  way  of  thinking 
which  we  should  most  value  and  most  improve,  and  this  not 
by  any  "means  less  in  girls  than  in  the  other  sex;  since  their 
duties,  and  the  occupations  they  are  called  upon  to  fill,  do  not 
less  require  it.     Hence  he  not  only  deprecates  an  excessive 
taste  for  dress,  but,   with    more   originality,   points   out   the 
danger  of  that  extreme  delicacy  and   refinement  which    in- 
capacitate women  for  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life,   and   give 
them  a  contempt  for  a  country  life  and  rural  economy. 

65.  It  will  be  justly  thought  at  present,  that  he  discourages 
too  much  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  by  women.     "  Keep 
their  minds,"  he  says  in  one  place,  "  as   much  as   you   can 


CHAP.  IV.  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY.  183 

within  the  usual  limits,  and  let  them  understand  that  the 
modesty  of  their  sex  ought  to  shrink  from  science  with 
almost  as  much  delicacy  as  from  vice."  This  seems,  how- 
ever, to  be  confined  to  science  or  philosophy  in  a  strict  sense  ; 
for  he  permits  afterwards  a  larger  compass  of  reading.  Wo- 
men should  write  a  good  hand,  understand  orthography  and 
the  four  rules  of  arithmetic,  which  they  will  want  in  domestic 
affairs.  To  these  he  requires  'a  close  attention,  and  even 
recftmmends  to  women  an  acquaintance  with  some  of  the 
common  forms  and  maxims  of  law.  Greek,  Roman,  and 
French  history,  with  the  best  travels,  will  be  valuable,  and 
keep  them  from  seeking  pernicious  fictions.  Books  also  of 
eloquence  and  poetry  may  be  r,ead  with  selection,  taking  care 
to  avoid  any  that  relate  to  love :  music  and  painting  may  be 
taught  with  the  same  precaution.  The  Italian  and  Spanish 
languages  are  of  no  use  but  to  enlarge  their  knowledge  of 
dangerous  books :  Latin  is  better  as  the  language  of  the 
church ;  but  this  he  would  recommend  only  for  girls  of  good 
sense  and  discreet  conduct,  who  will  make  no  display  of  the 
acquisition. 


SECT.  II.  —  ON  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


Puffendorf — Spinosa — Harrington's  Oceana — Locke  on  Government — Political 
Economy. 

66.  IN  the  seventh  book  of  Puffendorf s  great  work,  he 
comes  to  political  philosophy,  towards  which  he  had 
been  gradually  tending  for  some  time ;  primary  soci-   dor^gnthe. 
eties,  or  those  of  families,  leading  the  way  to  the  con-   °ry  °f 

.  ,     '     .  /.     .    .,  t         /-.      ,•        j      •  .1        politics. 

sideration  of  civil  government.  Grotius  derives  the 
origin  of  this  from  the  natural  sociableness  of  mankind.  But 
this,  as  Puffendorf  remarks,  may  be  satisfied  by  the  primary 
societies.  The  real  cause  was  experience  of  the  injuries  which 
one  man  can  inflict  on  another.1  And,  after  a  prolix  disquisi- 
tion, he  concludes  that  civil  society  must  have  been  constituted, 
first,  by  a  covenant  of  a  number  of  men,  each  with  each,  to 
form  a  commonwealth,  and  to  be  bound  by  the  majority,  in 

»  L.  Tii.  c.  1. 


184  PUFFENDORF'S  THEORY.  PART  17. 

which  primary  covenant  they  must  be  unanimous,  that  is, 
every  dissentient  would  retain  his  natural  liberty  ;  next,  by  a 
resolution  or  decree  of  the  majority,  that  certain  rulers  shall 
govern  the  rest;  and,  lastly,  by  a  second  covenant  between 
these  rulers  and  the  rest,  —  one  promising  to  take  care  of  the 
public  weal,  and  the  other  to  obey  lawful  commands.1  This 
covenant,  as  he  attempts  to  show,  exists  even  in  a  democracy, 
though  it  is  less  evident  than  in  other  forms.  Hobbes  had 
admitted  the  first  of  these  covenants,  but  denied  the  second  : 
Barbeyrac,  the  able  commentator  on  Puffendorf,  has  done 
xactly  the  reverse.  A  state  once  formed  may  be  conceived 
to  exist  as  one  person,  with  a  single  will,  represented  by  that 
of  the  sovereign,  wherever  the  sovereignty  may  be  placed. 
This  sovereignty  is  founded  on  the  covenants,  and  is  not  con- 
ferred, except  indirectly  like  every  other  human  power,  by 
God.  Puffendorf  here  combats  the  opposite  opinion,  which 
churchmen  were  as  prone  to  hold,  it  seems,  in  Germany  as  in 
England.2 

67.  The  legislative,  punitive,  and  judiciary  powers,  those  of 
making  war  and  peace,  of  appointing  magistrates,  and  levying 
taxes,  are  so  closely  connected,  that  no  one  can  be  denied 
to  the  sovereign.  As  to  his  right  in  ecclesiastical  matters, 
Puffendorf  leaves  it  for  others  to  determine.3  He  seems  in 
this  part  of  the  work  too  favorable  to  unlimited  monarchy ;  de- 
claring himself  against  a  mixed  government.  The  sovereign 
power  must  be  irresponsible,  and  cannot  be  bound  by  the  law 
which  itself  has  given.  He  even  denies  that  all  government  is 
intended  for  the  good  of  the  governed,  —  a  position  strangely 
inconsistent  with  his  theory  of  a  covenant ;  but  he  contends, 
that,  if  it  were,  this  end,  the  public  good,  may  be  more  proba- 
bly discerned  by  the  prince  than  by  the  people.4  Yet  he  admits 
that  the  exorbitances  of  a  prince  should  be  restrained  by  cer- 
tain fundamental  laws,  and  holds  that  having  accepted  such, 
and  ratified  them  by  oath,  he  is  not  at  liberty  to  break  them ; 
arguing,  with  some  apparent  inconsistency,  against  those  who 
maintain  such  limitations  to  be  inconsistent  with  monarchy, 
and  even  recommending  the  institution  of  councils,  without 
whose  consent  certain  acts  of  the  sovereign  shall  not  be  valid. 
This  can  only  be  reconciled  with  his  former  declaration  against 
a  mixed  sovereignty,  by  the  distinction  familiar  to  our  own  con- 
stitutional lawyers,  between  the  joint  acts  of  A.  and  B.,  and 

*  c.  2.  »  c.  3.  *  c.  4.  « c.  a. 


CHAP.  IV.  PUFFENDORF'S  THEORY.  185 

the  acts  of  A.  with  B.'s  consent.  But  this  is  a  little  too  techni- 
cal and  unreal  for  philosophical  politics.  Governments  not 
reducible  to  one  of  the  three  simple  forms  he  calls  irregular ; 
such  as  the  Roman  Republic  or  German  Empire.  But  there 
may  be  systems  of  states,  or  aggregate  communities,  either 
subject  to  one  king  by  different  titles,  or  united  by  federation. 
He  inclines  to  deny  that  the  majority  can  bind  the  minority 
in  the  latter  case,  and  seems  to  take  it  for  granted  that  some 
of  the  confederates  can  quit  the  league  at  pleasure.1 

68.  Sovereignty  over  persons  cannot  be  acquired,  strictly 
speaking,  by  seizure  or  occupation,  as  in  the  case  of  lands,  and 
requires,  even  after  conquest,  their  consent  to  obey ;    which 
will  be  given,  in  order  to  secure  themselves  from  the  other 
rights  of  war.     It  is  a  problem  whether,  after  an  unjust  con- 
quest, the  forced  consent  of  the  people  can  give  a  lawful  title 
to  sovereignty.     Puffendorf  distinguishes  between  a  monarchy 
and  a  republic  thus  unjustly  subdued.     In  the  former  case,  so 
long  as  the  lawful  heirs  exist  or  preserve  their  claim,  the  duty 
of  restitution  continues.     But  in  the  latter,  as  the  people  may 
live  as  happily  under  a  monarchy  as  under  a  republic,  he 
thinks  that  an  usurper  has  only  to  treat  them  well,  without 
scruple  as  to  his  title.     If  he  oppresses  them,  no  course  of 
years  will  make  his  title  lawful,  or  bind  them  in  conscience  to 
obey ;  length  of  possession  being  only  length  of  injury.     If  a 
sovereign  has  been  justly  divested  of  his  power,  the  commu- 
nity becomes  immediately  free ;    but,  if  by  unjust  rebellion, 
his  right  continues  till  by  silence  he  has  appeared  to  aban 
don  it.2 

69.  Every  one  will  agree,  that  a  lawful  ruler  must  not  be 
opposed  within  the  limits  of  his  authority.     But  let  us  put  the 
case  that  he  should  command  what  is  unlawful,  or  maltreat  his 
subjects.     Whatever  Hobbes  may  say,  a  subject  may  be  in- 
jured by  his  sovereign.     But  we  should  bear  minor  injuries 
patiently,  and  in  the  worst  cases  avoid  personal  resistance. 
Those  are  not  to  be  listened  to  who  assert  that  a  king,  degen- 
erating into  a  tyrant,  may  be  resisted  and  punished  by  his 
people.     He  admits  only  a  right  of  self-defence,  if  he  mani- 
festly becomes  a  public  enemy :   in  all  this  he  seems  to  go 
quite  as  far  as  Grotius  himself.     The  next  question  is  as  to 
the  right  of  invaders  and  usurpers  to  obedience.     This,  it  will 
be  observed,  he  had  already  in  some  measure  discussed ;  but 

»  c.  6.  *  o.  7. 


186  PUFFENDORF'S  THEORY.  PAKT  IV. 

Puffendorf  is  neither  strict  in  method,  nor  free  from  repeti- 
tions. He  labors  much  about  the  rights  of  the  lawful  prime, 
insisting  upon  them  where  the  subjects  have  promised  alle- 
giance to  the  usurper.  This,  he  thinks,  must  be  deemed 
temporary,  until  the  legitimate  sovereign  has  recovered  his 
dominions.  But  what  may  be  done  towards  promoting  this 
end  by  such  as  have  sworn  fidelity  to  the  actual  ruler,  he  does 
not  intimate.1 

70.  Civil  laws  are  such  as  emanate  from  the  supreme 
power,  with  respect  to  things  left  indifferent  by  the  laws  of 
God  and  nature.     What  chiefly  belongs  to  them  is  the  form 
and  method  of  acquiring  rights,  or  obtaining  redress  for  wrongs. 
If  we  give  the  law  of  nature  all  that  belongs  to  it,  and  take 
away  from  the  civilians  what  they  have  hitherto  engrossed  and 
promiscuously  treated,  we  shall  bring  the  civil  law  to  a  much 
narrower  compass ;  not  to  say  that  at  present,  whenever  the 
latter  is  deficient,  we  must  have  recourse  to  the  law  of  nature, 
and  that  therefore  in  all  commonwealths  the  natural  laws  sup- 
ply the  defects  of  the  civil.2     He  argues  against   Hobbes's 
tenet,  that  the  civil  law  cannot  be  contrary  to  the  law  of  na- 
ture ;  and  that  what  shall  be  deemed  theft,  murder,  or  adultery 
depends  on  the  former.     The  subject  is  bound  generally  not  to 
obey  the  unjust  commands  of  his  sovereign  ;  but  in  the  case 
of  war  he  thinks  it,  on  the  whole,  safest,  considering  the  usual 
difficulties  of  such  questions,  that  the  subject  should  serve, 
and  throw  the  responsibility  before  God  on  the  prince.3     In 
this  problem  of  casuistry,  common  usage  is  wholly  against  the 
stricter  theory. 

71.  Punishment  may  be  defined  an  evil  inflicted  by  authority 
upon  view  of  antecedent  transgression.4     Hence  exclusion,  on 
political  grounds,  from  public  office,  or  separation  of  the  sick 
for  the  sake  of  the  healthy,  is  not  punishment.     It  does  not 
belong  to  distributive  justice  ;  nor  is  the  magistrate  bound  to 
apportion  it  to  the  malignity  of  the  offence,  though  this  is 
usual.     Superior  authority  is  necessary  to  punishment;  and 
he  differs  from  Grotius  by  denying  that  we  have  a  right  to 
avenge  the  injuries  of  those  who  have  no  claim  upon  us. 
Punishment  ought  never  to  be  inflicted  without  the  prospect 
of  some  advantage  from  it ;  either  the  correction  of  the  of- 
fender, or  the  prevention  of  his  repeating  the  offence.     But 

1  C.  8.  *  L.  Tiii.  c.  1. 

»  L.  viii.  c.  1.  *  C.  3. 


CHAP.  IV.  POLITICS  OF  SPIXOSA.  187 

example  he  seems  not  to  think  a  direct  end  of  punishment, 
though  it  should  be  regarded  in  its  infliction.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary that  all  offences  which  the  law  denounces  should  be 
actually  punished,  though  some  jurists  have  questioned  the 
right  of  pardon.  Punishments  ought  to  be  measured  accord- 
ing to  the  object  of  the  crime,  the  injury  to  the  commonwealth, 
and  the  malice  of  the  delinquent.  Hence  offences  against 
God  should  be  deemed  most  criminal,  and,  next,  such  as  dis- 
turb the  state ;  then,  whatever  affect  life,  the  peace  or  honor 
of  families,  private  property  or  reputation,  following  the  scale 
of  the  Decalogue.  But,  though  all  crimes  do  not  require 
equal  severity,  an  exact  proportion  of  penalties  is  not  required. 
Most  of  this  chapter  exhibits  the  vacillating,  indistinct,  and 
almost  self-contradictory  resolutions  of  difficulties  so  frequent 
in  Puffendorf.  He  concludes  by  establishing  a  great  truth, 
that  no  man  can  be  justly  punished  for  the  offence  of  another  ; 
not  even  a  community  for  the  acts  of  their  forefathers,  not 
withstanding  their  fictitious  immortality.1 

72.  After  some  chapters  on  the  law  of  nations,  Puffendorf 
concludes  with  discussing  the  cessation  of  subjection.     This 
may  ordinarily  be  by  voluntarily  removing  to  another  state 
with  permission  of  the  sovereign.     And,  if  no  law  or  custom 
interferes,  the  subject  has  a  right  to  do  this  at  his  discretion. 
The  state  has  not  a  right  to  expel  citizens  without  some  of- 
fence.    It  loses  all  authority  over  a  banished  man.     He  con- 
cludes by  considering  the  rare  case  of  so  great  a  diminution  of 
the  people,  as  to  raise  a  doubt  of  their  political  identity.2 

73.  The  political  portion  of  this  large  work  is  not,  as  will 
appear,  very  fertile  in  original  or  sagacious  reflection,   politics  of 
A  greater   degree   of  both,   though   by   no   means   8Pinosa- 
accompanied  with  a  sound  theory,  distinguishes  the  Political 
Treatise  of  Spinosa ;  one  which  must  not  be  confounded  with 
the  Theologico-political  Treatise,  a  very  different  work.     In 
this  he  undertakes  to  show  how  a  state  under  a  regal  or  aris- 
tocratic government  ought  to  be  constituted  so  as  to  secure 
the  tranquillity  and  freedom  of  the  citizens.     Whether  Spino- 
sa borrowed  his  theory  on  the  origin  of  government  from 
Hobbes,  is  perhaps  hard  to  determine :    he  seems  acquainted 
with  the  treatise  De  Cive ;    but  the  philosophical  system  of 
both  was  such  as,  in   minds  habituated  like  theirs  to  close 
reasoning,  could  not  lead  to  any  other  result.     Political  theory, 

i  G.  *  »  C.  11, 12. 


188  POLITICS  OF  SPINOSA.  PART  IV. 

as  Spinosa  justly  observes,  is  to  be  founded  on  our  experience 
of  human  kind  as  it  is,  and  on  no  visionary  notions  of  an 
Utopia  or  golden  age  ;  and  hence  politicians  of  practical  know- 
ledge have  written  better  on  these  subjects  than  philosophers. 
"We  must  treat  of  men  as  liable  to  passions,  prone  more 
to  revenge  than  to  pity,  eager  to  rule  and  to  compel  others  to 
act  like  themselves,  more  pleased  with  having  done  harm 
to  others  than  with  procuring  their  own  good.  Hence  no 
state  wherein  the  public  affairs  are  intrusted  to  any  one's  good 
faith  can  be  secure  of  their  due  administration:  but  means 
should  be  devised  that  neither  reason  nor  passion  should  in- 
duce those  who  govern  to  obstruct  the  public  weal ;  it  being 
indifferent  by  what  motive  men  act,  if  they  can  be  brought  to 
act  for  the  common  good. 

74.  Natural  law  is  the  same  as  natural  power:  it  is  that 
which  the  laws  of  nature,  that  is,  the  order  of  the  world,  give 
to  each  individual.     Nothing  is  forbidden  by  this  law,  except 
what  no  one  desires,  or  what  no  one  can  perform.     Thus  no 
one  is  bound  to  keep  the  faith  he  has  plighted  any  longer  than 
he  will,  and  than  he  judges  it  useful  to  himself;  for  he  has  not 
lost  the  power  of  breaking  it,  and  power  is  right  in  natural 
law.     But  he  may  easily  perceive,  that  the  power  of  one  man 
in  a  state  of  nature  is  limited  by  that  of  all  the  rest,  and  in 
effect  is  reduced  to  nothing,  all  men  being  naturally  enemies 
to  each  other ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  by  uniting  their  force 
and   establishing  bounds  by  common  consent  to  the  natural 
powers  of  each,  it  becomes  really  more  effective  than  while  it 
was  unlimited.     This  is  the  principle  of  civil  government ; 
and  now  the  distinctions  of  just  and  unjust,  right  and  wrong, 
begin  to  appear. 

75.  The  right  of  the  supreme  magistrate  is  nothing  but  the 
collective  rights  of  the  citizens,  that  is,  their  powers.     Neither 
he  nor  they  in  their  natural  state  can  do  wrong  :  but,  after  the 
institution  of  government,  each  citizen  may  do  wrong  by  dis- 
obeying the  magistrate ;  that,  in  fact,  being  the  test  of  wrong. 
He  has  not  to  inquire  whether  the  commands  of  the  supreme 
power  are  just  or  unjust,  pious  or  impious  ;  that  is,  as  to  action  : 
for  the  state  has  no  jurisdiction  over  his  judgment. 

76.  Two  independent  states  are  naturally  enemies,  and  may 
make  war  on  each  other  whenever  they  please.     If  they  make 
peace  or  alliance,  it  is  no  longer  binding  than  the  cause,  that 
is,  hope  or  fear  in  the  contracting  parties,  shall  endure.     All 


CHAP.  IV.  HIS  THEORY  OF  A  MONARCHY.  189 

this  is  founded  on  the  universal  law  of  nature,  the  desire  of 
preserving  ourselves  ;  which,  whether  men  are  conscious  of  it 
or  no,  animates  all  their  actions.  Spinosa  in  this,  as  in  his 
other  writings,  is  more  fearless  than  Hobbes  ;  and,  though  he 
sometimes  may  throw  a  light  veil  over  his  abjuration  of  moral 
and  religious  principle,  it  is  frequently  placed  in  a  more  pro- 
minent view  than  his  English  precursor  in  the  same  system 
had  deemed  it  secure  to  exhibit.  Yet  so  slight  is  often  the 
connection  between  theoretical  tenets  and  human  practice,  that 
Spinosa  bore  the  character  of  a  virtuous  and  benevolent  man. 
In  this  treatise  of  politics,  especially  in  the  broad  assertion 
that  good  faith  is  only  to  be  preserved  so  long  as  it  is  advan- 
tageous, he  leaves  Machiavel  and  Hobbes  at  some  distance, 
and  may  be  reckoned  the  most  phlegmatically  impudent  of  the 
whole  school. 

77.  The  contract  or  fundamental  laws,  he  proceeds,  accord- 
ing to  which  the  multitude  transfers  its  right  to  a  king  or 
a  senate,  may  unquestionably  be  broken,  when  it  is  advan- 
tageous to  the  whole  to  do  so.     But  Spinosa  denies  to  private 
citizens  the  right  of  judging  concerning  the  public  good  in  such 
a  point ;    reserving,  apparently,  to   the   supreme  magistrate 
an   ultimate   power  of  breaking  the  conditions  upon  which 
he  was  chosen.     Notwithstanding  this  dangerous  admission,  he 
strongly  protests  against  intrusting  absolute  power  to  any  one 
man ;  and  observes,  in  answer  to  the  common  argument  of  the 
stability  of  despotism,  as  in  the  instance  of  the  Turkish  mon- 
archy, that  if  barbarism,  slavery,  and  desolation  are  to  be  called 
peace,  nothing  can  be  more  wretched  than  peace  itself.     Nor 
is  this  sole  power  of  one  man  a  thing  so  possible  as  we  ima- 
gine ;  the  kings  who  seem  most  despotic  trusting  the  public 
safety  and  their  own   to  counsellors  and  favorites,  often  the 
worst  and  weakest  in  the  state. 

78.  He  next  proceeds  to  his  scheme  of  a  well-regulated 
monarchy,  which  is  in  some  measure  original  and  in-  g^  theory 
genious.     The  people  are  to  be  divided  into  families,   of  »  mon- 
by  which  he   seems   to   mean   something   like   the 
QpaTpiai  of  Attica.     From  each  of  these,  councillors,  fifty  years 
of  age,  are  to  be  chosen  by  the  king,  succeeding  in  a  rotation 
quinquennial,  or  less,  so  as  to  form  a  numerous  senate.     This 
assembly  is  to  be  consulted  upon  all  public  affairs,  and  the  king 
is  to  be  guided  by  its  unanimous  opinion.     In  case,  however, 
of  disagreement,  the  different  propositions  being  laid  before 


190  HIS  THEORY  OF  A  MONARCHY.  PART  IV, 

the  king,  he  may  choose  that  of  the  minority,  provided  at  least 
one  hundred  councillors  have  recommended  it.  The  less 
remarkable  provisions  of  this  ideal  polity  it  would  be  waste  of 
time  to  mention ;  except  that  he  advises  that  all  the  citi- 
zens should  be  armed  as  a  militia,  and  that  the  principal 
towns  should  be  fortified,  and  consequently,  as  it  seems,  in 
their  power.  A  monarchy  thus  constituted  would  probably 
not  degenerate  into  the  despotic  form.  Spinosa  appeals  to  the 
ancient  government  of  Aragon,  as  a  proof  of  the  possibility  of 
carrying  his  theory  into  execution. 

79.  From  this  imaginary  monarchy  he  comes  to  an  aristo- 
cratical  republic.  In  this  he  seems  to  have  taken  Venice,  the 
idol  of  theoretical  politicians,  as  his  primary  model,  but  with 
such  deviations  as  affect  the  whole  scheme  of  government. 
He  objects  to  the  supremacy  of  an  elective  doge,  justly  observ- 
ing that  the  precautions  adopted  in  the  election  of  that  magis- 
trate show  the  danger  of  the  office  itself,  which  was  rather 
retained  in  the  aristocratical  polity  as  an  ancient  institution 
than  from  any  persuasion  of  its  usefulness.  But  the  most 
remarkable  discrepancy  between  the  aristocracy  of  Spinosa 
and  that  of  Venice  is,  that  his  great -council,  which  ought,  as 
he  strongly  urges,  not  to  consist  of  less  than  five  thousand,  the 
greatness  of  its  number  being  the  only  safeguard  against 
the  close  oligarchy  of  a  few  families,  is  not  to  be  hereditary, 
but  its  vacancies  to  be  filled  up  by  self-election.  In  this 
election,  indeed,  he  considers  the  essence  of  aristocracy  to 
consist ;  being,  as  is  implied  in  its  meaning,  a  government  by 
the  best,  who  can  only  be  pronounced  such  by  the  choice  of 
many.  It  is  singular  that  he  never  adverts  to  popular  repre- 
sentation, of  which  he  must  have  known  examples.  Demo 
craey,  on  the  contrary,  he  defines  to  be  a  government  where 
political  power  falls  to  men  by  chance  of  birth,  or  by  some 
means  which  has  rendered  them  citizens,  and  who  can  claim 
it  as  their  right,  without  regard  to  the  choice  of  others.  And 
a  democracy,  according  to  Spinosa,  may  exist,  if  the  law  should 
limit  this  privilege  of  power  to  the  seniors  in  age,  or  to  the 
elder  branches  of  families,  or  to  those  who  pay  a  certain 
amount  in  taxation ;  although  the  numbers  enjoying  it  should 
be  a  smaller  portion  of  the  community  than  in  an  aristocracy 
of  the  form  he  has  recommended.  His  treatise  breaks  off 
near  the  beginning  of  the  chapters  intended  to  delineate  the 
best  model  of  democracy,  which  he  declares  to  be  one  wherein 


CHAP.  IV.  AMELOT  DE  LA  HOUSSAYE.  191 

all  persons  in  their  own  power,  and  not  infamous  by  crime, 
should  have  a  share  in  the  public  government.  I  do  not  know 
that  it  can  be  inferred  from  the  writings  of  Spinosa,  nor  is  his 
authority,  perhaps,  sufficient  to  render  the  question  of  any 
interest,  to  which  of  the  three  plans  devised  by  him  as  the  best 
in  their  respective  forms  he  would  have  ascribed  the  prefer- 
ence. 

80.  The  condition  of  France  under  Louis  XIV.  was  not 
very  tempting   to   speculators   on   political   theory.   Ameiotde 
Whatever  short  remarks  may  be  found  in  those  ex-  la  HOUS- 
cellent  writers  on  other  subjects  who  distinguish  this 
period,  we  can  select  no  one  book  that  falls  readily  into  this 
class.     For  Telemaque  we  must  find  another  place.     It  is 
scarcely  worth  while  to  mention  the  political  discourses  on 
Tacitus  by  Amelot  de  la  Houssaye.     These  are  a  tedious  and 
pedantic  running  commentary  on  Tacitus,  affecting  to  deduce 
general  principles,  but  much  unlike  the  short  and  poignant 
observations  of  Machiavel  and  Bacon.     A  whole  volume  on 
the  reign  alone  of  Tiberius,  and  printed  at  Paris,  is  not  likely 
to  repay  a  reader's  trouble ;  at  least  I  have  found  nothing  in 
it  above  the  common  level.     I  have  no  acquaintance  with  the 
other  political  writings  of  Amelot  de  la  Houssaye,  one  of 
those  who  thought  they  could  make  great  discoveries  by  ana- 
lyzing the  constitution  of  Venice  and  other  states. 

81.  England,  thrown  at  the  commencement  of  this  period 
upon  the  resources  of  her  own  invention  to  replace   narring. 
an  ancient  monarchy  by  something  new,  and  rich  at   ton's 
that  time  in  reflecting  as  well  as  learned  men,  with   c 

an  unshackled  press,  and  a  growing  disdain  of  authority  as 
opposed  to  argument,  was  the  natural  soil  of  political  theory. 
The  earliest  fruit  was  Sir  James  Harrington's  Oceana,  pub- 
lished in  1656.  This  once-famous  book  is  a  political  allegory, 
partly  suggested,  perhaps,  by  the  Dodona's  Grove  of  Howell, 
or  by  Barclay's  Argenis,  and  a  few  other  fictions  of  the  pre- 
ceding age.  His  Oceana  represents  England,  the  history  of 
which  is  shadowed  out  with  fictitious  names.  But  this  is 
preliminary  to  the  great  object,  the  scheme  of  a  new  common- 
weallh,  which,  under  the  auspices  of  Olphaus  Megaletor,  the 
Lord  Archon,  —  meaning,  of  course,  Cromwell,  not  as  he 
was,  but  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  —  the  author  feigns  to 
have  been  established.  The  various  laws  and  constitutions 
of  this  polity  occupy  the  whole  work. 


192  HARRINGTON'S  OCEANA.  PART  IV. 

82.  The  leading  principle  of  Harrington   is,  that   power 
depends  on  property ;  denying  the  common  saying,  that  know- 
ledge or  prudence  is  power.     But  this  property  must  be  in 
land,  "because,  as  to  property  producing   empire,  it   is   re- 
quired that  it  should  have   some  certain   root  or  foothold, 
which  except  in  land  it  cannot  have ;  being  otherwise,  as  it 
were,  upon  the  wing.     Nevertheless,  in  such  cities  as  subsist 
mostly  by  trade,  and  have  little  or  no  land,  as  Holland  and 
Genoa,  the  balance   of  treasure   may  be   equal   to   that   of 
land.  " l     The  law  fixing  the  balance  of  lands  is  called  by  him 
agrarian ;    and  without  an   agrarian   law  he   holds   that   no 
government,  whether  monarchical,  aristocratic,  or  popular,  has 
any  long  duration :  this  is  rather  paradoxical ;  but  his  distri- 
bution of  lands  varies  according  to  the  form  of  the  common- 
wealth.    In  one  best  constituted,  the  possession  of  lands  is 
limited  to  £2,000  a  year ;  which,  of  course,  in  his  time  was  a 
much  greater  estate  than  at  present. 

83.  Harrington's  general  scheme  of  a  good  government  is 
one  "  established  upon  an    equal   agrarian   arising  into   the 
superstructure,  or  three  orders ;  the  senate  debating  and  pro- 
posing, the  people  resolving,  and  the  magistracy  executing  by 
an  equal  rotation  through  the  suffrage  of  the  people  given 
by  the  ballot."     His  more  particular  form  of  polity,  devised 
for  his  Oceana,  it  would  be  tedious  to  give  in  detail :    the 
result  is   a  moderate   aristocracy ;    property,  though   under 
the  control  of  his  agrarian,  which  prevents  its  excess,  having 
so  great  a  share  in  the  elections  that  it  must  predominate. 
But  it  is  an  aristocracy  of  what  we  should  call  the  middle 
ranks,  and  might  not  be  unfit  for  a  small  state.     In  general,  it 
may  be  said  of  Harrington,  that  he  is  prolix,  dull,  pedantic, 
and  seldom  profound ;  but  sometimes  redeems  himself  by  just 
observations.     Like  most  theoretical  politicians  of  that  age, 
he  had  an  excessive  admiration  for  the  republic  of  Venice.* 
His   other  political  writings  are  in  the  same  spirit  as  the 
Oceana,  but  still  less  interesting. 

84.  The  manly  republicanism  of  Harrington,  though  some- 
Patriarcha    times  visionary  and  perhaps  impracticable,  shines  by 
of  i-umer.    compari&On  with  a  very  opposite  theory,  which,  hav- 
ing been  countenanced  in  the  early  part  of  the  century  by 

i  p.  38,  edit.  1771.  Venice  right,  shall  go  nearest  to  judge. 

!  "  If  I  be  worthy  to  give  advice  to  a  notwithstanding  the  difference  that  U  in 

man  that  would  study  politics,  let  him  every  policy,  right  of  any  government  in 

understand  Venice:  he  that  understands  the  world."  —  Harrington's  Works,  p.  292 


CHAP.  IV.        PATKIAECHA  OF  FILMER.  —  SIDNEY.  193 

our  clergy,  revived  with  additional  favor  after  the  Restoration. 
This  was  maintained  in  the  Patriarcha  of  Sir  Robert  Filraer, 
written,  as  it  appears,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  but  not  pub- 
lished till  1680,  at  a  time  when  very  high  notions  of  royal 
prerogative  were  as  well  received  by  one  party  as  they  were 
indignantly  rejected  by  another.  The  object,  as  the  author 
declares,  was  to  prove  that  the  first  kings  were  fathers  of. 
families ;  that  it  is  unnatural  for  the  people  to  govern  or  to 
choose  governors  ;  that  positive  laws  do  not  infringe  the  natu- 
ral and  fatherly  power  of  kings.  He  refers  the  tenet  of 
natural  liberty  and  the  popular  origin  of  government  to  the 
schoolmen ;  allowing  that  all  Papists  and  the  reformed  divines 
have  imbibed  it,  but  denying  that  it  is  found  in  the  fathers. 
He- seems,  however,  to  claim  the  credit  of  an  original  hypo- 
thesis; those  who  have  vindicated  the  rights  of  kings  in  most 
points  not  having  thought  of  this,  but  with  one  consent  admit- 
ted the  natural  liberty  and  equality  of  mankind.  It  is  certain, 
nevertheless,  that  the  patriarchal  theory  of  government,  as  the 
basis  of  actual  right,  was  laid  down  as  explicitly  as  by  himself 
in  what  is  called  Bishop  Overall's  Convocation  Book,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  But  this  book  had  not 
been  published  when  Filmer  wrote.  His  arguments  are  sin- 
gularly insufficient ;  he  quotes  nothing  but  a  few  irrelevant 
texts  from  Genesis ;  he  seems  not  to  have  known  at  all  the 
strength,  whatever  it  may  be,  of  his  own  case  ;  and  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  find  a  more  trifling  and  feeble  work.  It  had,  how- 
ever, the  advantage  of  opportunity  to  be  received  by  a  party 
with  approbation. 

85.  Algernon  Sidney  was  the  first  who  devoted  his  time  to 
a  refutation  of  this  patriarchal  theory,  propounded 

i        -11  ^       •      -L  i    •      Sidney's 

as  it  was,  not  as  a  plausible  hypothesis  to  explain  Discourses 
the  origin  of  civil  communities,  but  as  a  paramount  ^^vern" 
title,  by  virtue  of  which  all  actual  sovereigns,  who 
were  not  manifest  usurpers,  were  to  reign  with  an  unmitigated 
despotism.  Sidney's  Discourses  on  Government,  not  pub- 
lished till  1698,  are  a  diffuse  reply  to  Filmer.  They  contain, 
indeed,  many  chapters  full  of  historical  learning  and  judicious 
reflection ;  yet  the  constant  anxiety  to  refute  that  which  needs 
no  refutation  renders  them  a  little  tedious.  Sidney  does  not 
condemn  a  limited  monarchy  like  the  English ;  but  his  par- 
tiality is  for  a  form  of  republic  which  would  be  deemed  too 
aristocratical  for  our  popular  theories. 

VOL.    IV.  13 


194  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.        PAKT  IV. 

86.  Locke,  immediately  after  the  Revolution,  attacked  the 
Locke  on      Patriarcha  with  more  brevity,  and  laid  down  hi? 
Govern-       owu  celebrated  theory  of  government.     The  funda- 
mental principle  of  Filmer  is,  that  paternal  authority 

is  naturally  absolute.  Adam  received  it  from  God,  exer- 
cised it  over  his  own  children,  and  transmitted  it  to  the  eldest 
born  for  ever.  This  assumption  Locke  combats  rather  too  dif- 
fusely, according  to  our  notions.  Filmer  had  not  only  to 
show  this  absolute  monarchy  of  a  lineal  ancestor,  but  his 
power  of  transmitting  it  in  course  of  primogeniture.  Locke 
denies  that  there  is  any  natural  right  of  this  kind,  maintaining 
the  equality  of  children.  The  incapacity  of  Filmer  renders 
his  discomfiture  not  difficult.  Locke,  as  will  be  seen,  acknow- 
ledges a  certain  de facto  authority  in  fathers  of  families;  and 
possibly  he  might  have  found,  as  indeed  he  seems  to  admit, 
considerable  traces  of  a  regard  to  primogeniture  in  the  early 
ages  of  the  world.  It  is  the  question  of  natural  right  with 
which  he  is  here  concerned ;  and,  as  no  proof  of  this  had  been 
offered,  he  had  nothing  to  answer. 

87.  In  the  second  part  of  Locke's  Treatise  on  Civil  Gov- 
ernment, he  proceeds  to  lay  down  what  he  holds  to  be  the 
true  principles  upon  which  society  is  founded.     A  state  of 
nature  is  a  state  of  perfect  freedom  and  equality,  but  within 
the  bounds  of  the  law  of  nature,  which  obliges  every  one,  and 
renders  a  state  of  liberty  no  state  of  license.     And  the  exe- 
cution of  this  law,  in  such  a  state,  is  put  into  every  one's 
hands,  so  that  he  may  punish  transgressors  against  it,  not 
merely  by  way  of  reparation  for  his  own  wrongs,  but  for 
those  of  others.    "  Every  offence  that  can  be  committed  in  the 
state  of  nature,  may,  in   the  state  of  nature,  be  punished 
equally,  and  as  far  forth,  as   it  may  in  a  commonwealth." 
And  not  only  independent  communities,  but  all  men,  as  he 
thinks,  till  they  voluntarily  enter  into  some  society,  are  in  a 
state  of  nature.1 

88.  Whoever  declares  by  word  or  action  a  settled  design 
against  another's  life,  puts  himself  in  a  state  of  war  against 
him,  and  exposes  his  own  life  to  be  taken  away,  either  by  the 
other  party,  or  by  any  one  who  shall  espouse  his  cause ;   and 
he  who  endeavors  to  obtain  absolute  power  over  another  may 
be  construed  to  have  a  design  on  his  life,  or  at  least  to  take 
away  his  property.     Where  laws  prevail,  they  must  determine 

»  L.  u.  c.  2. 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.  195 

the  punishment  of  those  who  injure  others ;  but,  if  the  law  is 
silenced,  it  is  hard  to  think  but  that  the  appeal  to  Heaven 
returns,  and  the  aggressor  may  be  treated  as  one  in  a  state 
of  war.1 

89.  Natural  liberty  is  freedom  from  any  superior  power 
except  the  law  of  nature.     Civil  liberty  is  freedom  from  the 
dominion  of  any  authority  except  that  which  a  legislature, 
established  by  consent  of  the  commonwealth,  shall  confirm. 
No  man,  according  to  Locke,  can  by  his  own  consent  enslave 
himself,  or  give  power  to  another  to  take  away  his  life  ;   for 
slavery,  in  a  strict  sense,  is  but  a  continuance  of  the  state  of 
war  between  a  conqueror  and  his  captive.2 

90.  The  excellent  chapter  on  property  which  follows  would 
be  sufficient,  if  all  Locke's  other  writings  had  perished,  to 
leave  him  a  high  name  in  philosophy.     Nothing  can  be  more 
luminous  than  his  deduction  of  the  natural  right  of  property 
from  labor,  not  merely  in  gathering  the  fruits  of  the   earth 
or  catching  wild  animals,  but  in  the  cultivation  of  land,  for 
which  occupancy  is  but  the  preliminary,  and  gives,  as  it  were, 
an  inchoate  title.     "As  much  land   as  a  man  tills,  plants, 
improves,  cultivates,  and  can  use  the  product  of,  so  much  is 
his  property.     He  by  his  lalx»r  does,  as  it  were,  enclose  it 
from  the  common."     Whatever  is  beyond  the  scanty  limits 
of  individual  or  family  labor  has   been   appropriated  under 
the  authority  of  civil  society.     But  labor  is  the  primary  basis 
of  natural  right.     Nor  can  it  be  thought  unreasonable  that 
labor  should  confer  an  exclusive  right,  when  it  is  remembered 
how  much  of  every  thing's  value  depends  upon  labor  alone. 
"  Whatever  bread  is  more  worth   than   acorns,   wine   than 
water,  and  cloth  or  silk  than  leaves,  skins,  or  moss,  that  is 
wholly  owing  to  labor  and  industry."      The  superiority  in 
good  sense  and  satisfactory  elucidation  of  his  principle,  which 
Locke  has  manifested  in  this  important  chapter  over  Grotius 
and  Puffendorf,  will  strike  those  who  consult  those  writers, 
or  look  at  the  brief  sketch  of  their  theories  in  the  foregoing 
pages.     It  is  no  less  contrasted  with  the  puerile  rant  of  Rous- 
eeau  against  all  territorial  property.     That  property  owes  its 
origin  to  occupancy  accompanied  with  labor,  is  now  generally 
admitted ;  the  care  of  cattle  being,  of  course,  to  be  considered 
as  one  species  of  labor,  and  requiring  at  least  a  temporary 
ownership  of  the  soiL3 

»  C.  3.  »  C.  4.  »  C.  6. 


196  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.  PART  IV. 

91.  Locke,  after  acutely  remarking  that  the  common  ar- 
guments for  the  power  of  a  father  over  his  children  would 
extend  equally  to  the  mother,  so  that  it  should  be    called 
parental  power,  reverts  to  the  train  of  reasoning  in  the  first 
book  of  this  treatise  against  the  regal  authority  of  fathers. 
What  they  possess  is  not  derived  from  generation,  but  from 
the  care  they  necessarily  take  of  the  infant  child,  and  during 
his  minority:    the  power  then  terminates,  though  reverence, 
support,  and  even  compliance,  are  still  due.     Children  are  also 
held  in  subordination  to  their  parents  by  the  institutions  of 
property,  which  commonly  make  them  dependent  both  as  to 
maintenance  and  succession.      But  Locke,  which  is  worthy 
to  be  remarked,  inclines  to  derive  the  origin  of  civil  govern- 
ment from  the  patriarchal  authority  ;  one  not  strictly  coercive, 
yet  voluntarily  conceded  by  habit  and  family  consent.    "  Thus 
the  natural  fathers  of  families,  by  an  insensible  change,  became 
the  politic  monarchs  of  them  too ;  and  as  they  chanced  to  live 
long,  and  leave  worthy  and  able  heirs  for  several  successions 
or  otherwise,  so  they  laid  the  foundations  of  hereditary  or 
elective  kingdoms."1 

92.  The  necessity  that  man  should  not  live  alone  produced 
the  primary  society  of  husband  and  wife,  parent  and  children ; 
to  which  that  of  master  and  servant  was  early  added,  whe- 
ther of  freemen  engaging  their  service  for  hire,  or  of  slaves 
taken  in  just  war,  who  are  by  the  right  of  nature  subject  to 
the  absolute  dominion  of  the  captor.      Such  a  family  may 
sometimes  resemble  a  little  commonwealth  by  its  numbers, 
but  is  essentially  distinct  from  one,  because  its  chief  has  no 
imperial  power  of  life  and  death  except  over  his  slaves ;  nature 
having  given  him  none  over  his  children,  though  all  men  have 
a  right  to  punish  breaches  of  the  law  of  nature  in  others 
according  to  the  offence.     But  this  natural  power  they  quit, 
and  resign  into  the  hands  of  the  community,  when  civil  soci- 
ety is  instituted ;  and  it  is  in  this  union  of  the  several  rights 
of  its  members  that  the  legislative  right  of  the  commonwealth 
consists,  whether  this  be  done  by  general  consent  at  the  first 
formation  of  government,  or  by  the  adhesion  which  any  in- 
dividual may  give  to  one  already  established.     By  either  of 
these  ways,  men  pass  from  a  state  of  nature  to  one  of  political 
society;   the  magistrate  having  now  that   power  to  redress 
injuries  which  had  previously  been  each  man's  right.     Hence 

» c.e. 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.  197 

absolute  monarchy,  in  Locke's  opinion,  is  no  form  of  civil 
government ;  for,  there  being  no  common  authority  to  appeal 
to,  the  sovereign  is  still  in  a  state  of  nature  with  regard  to  his 
subjects.1 

93.  A  community  is  formed  by  the  unanimous  consent  of 
any  body  of  men ;    but,  when   thus  become  one  body,  the 
determination  of  the   majority  must  bind  the  rest,  else  it 
would  not  be  one.     Unanimity,  after  a  community  is  once 
formed,  can  no  longer  be  required ;   but  this  consent  of  men 
to  form  a  civil  society  is  that  which  alone  did  or  could  give 
beginning  to  any  lawful  government  in  the  world.     It  is  idle 
to  object,  that  we  have  no  records  of  such  an  event ;   for  few 
commonwealths  preserve  the  tradition  of  their  own  infancy ; 
and  whatever  we  do  know  of  the  origin  of  particular  states 
gives  indications  of  this  mode  of  union.    Yet  he  again  inclines 
to  deduce  the  usual  origin  of  civil  societies  from  imitation  of 
patriarchal  authority,  which,  having  been  recognized  by  each 
family  in  the  arbitration  of  disputes  and  even  punishment  of 
offences,  was  transferred  with  more  readiness  to  some  one 
person,  as  the  fathgr  and  representative  head  of  the  infant 
community.    He  even  admits  that  this  authority  might  tacitly 
devolve   upon  the  eldest  son.     Thus  the  first  governments 
were  monarchies,  and  those  with  no  express  limitations  of 
power,  till  exposure  of  its  abuse  gave  occasion  to  social  laws 
or  to  co-ordinate  authority.     In  all  tliis  he  follows  Hooker, 
from  the  first  book  of  whose  Ecclesiastical  Polity  he  quotes 
largely  in  his  notes.2 

94.  A  difficulty  commonly  raised  against  the  theory  of 
compact  is,  that,  all  men  being  born  under  some  government, 
they  cannot  be  at  liberty  to  erect  a  new  one,  or  even  to  make 
choice  whether  they  will  obey  or  no.     This  objection  Locke 
does  not  meet,  like  Hooker  and  the  jurists,  by  supposing  the 
agreement  of  a  distant  ancestor  to  oblige  all  his  posterity : 
but,  explicitly  acknowledging  that  nothing  can  bind  freemen 
to  obey  any  government  save  their  own  consent,  he  rests  the 
evidence  of  a  tacit  consent  on  the  enjoyment  of  hind,  or  even 
on  mere  residence  within  the  dominions  of  the  community ; 
every  man   being   at   liberty  to   relinquish   his   possessions, 
or  change  his  residence,  and  either  incorporate  himself  with 
another  commonwealth,  or,  if  he  can  find  an  opportunity,  set 
np  for  himself  in  some  unoccupied  part  of  the  world.     But 

»  c  "  »  c.  8. 


198  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.  PART  IV 

nothing  can  make  a  man  irrevocably  a  member  of  one  society, 
except  his  own  voluntary  declaration :  such  perhaps  as  the 
oath  of  allegiance,  which  Locke  does  not  mention,  ought  to  be 
reckoned.1 

95.  The  majority  having,  in  the  first  constitution  of  a  state, 
the  whole  power,  may  retain  it  themselves,  or  delegate  it  to 
one  or  more  persons.2     And  the  supreme  power  is,  in  other 
words,  the  legislature,  sacred  and  unalterable  in  the  hands 
where  the  community  have  once  placed  it,  without  which  no 
law  can  exist,  and  in  which  all  obedience  terminates.     Yet 
this  legislative  authority  itself  is  not  absolute  or  arbitrary 
over  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  its  subjects.     It  is  the  joint 
power  of  individuals  surrendered  to  the  state ;   but  no  man 
has  power  over  his  own  life  or  his  neighbor's  property.     The 
laws  enacted  by  the  legislature  must  be  conformable  to  the 
will  of  God,  or  natural  justice.     Nor  can  it  take  any  part  of 
the  subject's  property  without  his  own  consent,  or  that  of  the 
majority.     "  For  if  any  one  shall  claim  a  power  to  lay  and 
levy  taxes  on  the  people  by  his  own  authority,  and  without 
such  consent  of  the  people,  he  thereby  invades  the  funda- 
mental law  of  property,  and  subverts  the  end  of  government. 
For  what  property  have  I  in  that  which  another  may  by  right 
take,  when  he  pleases,  to  himself?"     Lastly,  the  legislative 
power  is  inalienable :  being  but  delegated  from  the  people,  it 
cannot  be  transferred  to  others.3     This  is  the  part  of  Locke's 
treatise  which  has  been  open  to  most  objection,  and  which,  in 
some  measure,  seems  to  charge  with  usurpation  all  the  esta- 
blished governments  of  Europe.     It  has  been  a  theory  fertile 
of  great  revolutions,  and  perhaps  pregnant  with  more.     In 
some  part  of  this  chapter  also,  though  by  no  means  in  the 
most  practical  corollaries,  the  language  of  Hooker  has  led  on- 
ward his  more  hardy  disciple. 

96.  Though  the  legislative  power  is  alone  supreme  in  the 
constitution,  it  is  yet  subject  to  the  people  themselves,  who 
may  alter  it  whenever  they  find  that  it  acts  against  the  trust 
reposed  in  it ;  all  power  given  in  trust  for  a  particular  end 
being  evidently  forfeited  when  that  end  is  manifestly  disre- 
garded or  obstructed.    But,  while  the  government  subsists,  the 
legislature  is  alone  sovereign ;   though  it  may  be  the  usage  to 
call  a  single  executive  magistrate  sovereign,  if  he  has  also  a 
share  in  legislation.     Where  this  is  not  the  case,  the  appella- 

1  c.  8.  *  c.  10.  »  c.  11. 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  OX  GOVERNMENT.  199 

tion  is  plainly  improper.  Locke  has  in  this  chapter  a  remarka- 
ble passage,  one  perhaps  of  the  first  declarations  in  favor  of 
a  change  in  the  electoral  system  of  England.  "  To  what 
gross  absurdities  the  following  of  custom,  when  reason  has  left 
it,  may  lead,  we  may  be  satisfied  when  we  see  the  bare  name 
of  a  town,  of  which  there  remains  not  so  much  as  the  ruins, 
where  scarce  so  much  housing  as  a  sheepcot  or  more  in- 
habitants than  a  shepherd  is  to  be  found,  send  as  many  repre- 
sentatives to  the  grand  assembly  of  law-makers  as  a  whole 
county,  numerous  in  people,  and  powerful  in  riches.  This 
strangers  stand  amazed  at,  and  every  one  must  confess  needs 
a  remedy,  though  most  think  it  hard  to  find  one,  because  the 
constitution  of  the  legislative  being  the  original  and  supreme 
act  of  the  society,  antecedent  to  all  positive  laws  in  it,  aad 
depending  wholly  on  the  people,  no  inferior  power  can  alter 
it."  But  Locke  is  less  timid  about  a  remedy,  and  suggests 
that  the  executive  magistrate  might  regulate  the  number  of 
representatives,  not  according  to  old  custom,  but  reason,  which 
is  not  setting  up  a  new  legislature,  but  restoring  an  old  one. 
'•  Whatsoever  shaH  be  done  manifestly  for  the  good  of  the  peo- 
ple and  the  establishing  the  government  on  its  true  foundation, 
is,  and  always  will  be,  just  prerogative ; "  *  a  maxim  of  too 
dangerous  latitude  for  a  constitutional  monarchy. 

97.  Prerogative   he    defines  to   be    "a   power   of  acting 
according  to  discretion  for  the  public  good  without  the  pre 
scription  of  the  law,  and  sometimes  even  against  it."     This, 
however,  is  not  by  any  means  a  good  definition  in  the  eyes  of 
a  lawyer  ;  and  the  word,  being  merely  technical,  ought  not  to 
have  been  employed  in  so  partial  if  not  so  incorrect  a  sense. 
Nor  is  it  very  precise  to  say,  that,  in  England,  the  prero- 
gative was  always  largest  in  the  hands  or  our  wisest  and  best 
princes,  not  only  because  the  fact  is  otherwise,  but  because 
he  confounds  the  legal  prerogative  with  its  actual  exercise. 
This  chapter  is   the   most  loosely  reasoned   of  any  in  the. 
treatise.2 

98.  Conquest,  in  an  unjust  war.  can  give  no  right  at  all, 
unless  robbers  and  pirates  may  acquire  a  right.     Xor  is  any 
one  bound  by  promises  which  unjust  force  extorts  from  him. 
If  we  are  not  strong  enough  to  resist,  we  have  no  remedy 
save  patience  ;  but  our  children  may  appeal  to  Heaven,  and 
repeat  their  appeals  till  they  recover  their  ancestral  right, 

»  c.  13.  *  0. 14 


200  LOCKE  ON  GOVERNMENT.  PART  IV 

which  was  to  be  governed  by  such  a  legislation  as  them- 
selves approve.  He  that  appeals  to  Heaven  must  be  sure 
that  he  has  right  on  his  side,  and  right,  too,  that  is  worth  the 
trouble  and  cost  of  his  appeal ;  as  he  will  answer  at  a  tribunal 
that  cannot  be  deceived.  Even  just  conquest  gives  no  further 
right  than  to  reparation  of  injury ;  and  the  posterity  of  the 
vanquished,  he  seems  to  hold,  can  forfeit  nothing  by  their 
parent's  offence,  so  that  they  have  always  a  right  to  throw 
off  the  yoke.  The  title  of  prescription,  which  has  commonly 
been  admitted  to  silence  the  complaints,  if  not  to  heal  the 
wounds,  of  the  injured,  finds  no  favor  with  Locke.1  But 
hence  it  seems  to  follow,  that  no  state,  composed,  as  most 
have  been,  out  of  the  spoils  of  conquest,  can  exercise  a 
legitimate  authority  over  the  latest  posterity  of  those  it  has 
incorporated.  Wales,  for  instance,  has  an  eternal  right  to 
shake  off  the  yoke  of  England ;  for  what  Locke  says  of  con- 
sent to  laws  by  representatives  is  of  little  weight  when  these 
must  be  outnumbered  in  the  general  legislature  of  both  coun- 
tries ;  and  indeed  the  first  question  for  the  Cambro-Britons 
would  be,  to  determine  whether  they  would  form  part  of  such 
a  common  legislation. 

99.  Usurpation,  which  is  a  kind  of  domestic  copquest,  gives 
no  more  right  to  obedience  than  unjust  war :  it  is  necessary 
that  the  people  should  both  be  at  liberty  to  consent,  and  have 
actually  consented  to  allow  and  confirm  a  power  which  the 
constitution  of  their  commonwealth  does  not  recognize.2  But 
tyranny  may  exist  without  usurpation,  whenever  the  power 
reposed  in  any  one's  hands  for  the  people's  benefit  is  abused 
to  their  impoverishment  or  slavery.  Force  may  never  be  op- 
posed but  to  unjust  and  unlawful  force :  in  any  other  case,  it 
is  condemned  before"  God  and  man.  The  king's  person  is  in 
some  countries  sacred  by  law ;  but  this,  as  Locke  thinks,  does 
not  extend  to  the  case,  where,  by  putting  himself  in  a  state 
of  war  with  his  people,  he  dissolves  the  government.3  A 
prince  dissolves  the  government  by  ruling  against  law,  by 
hindering  the  regular  assembly  of  the  legislature,  by  changing 
the  form  of  election,  or  by  rendering  the  people  subject  to  a 
foreign  power.  He  dissolves  it  also  by  neglecting  or  abandon- 
ing it,  so  that  the  laws  cannot  be  put  into  execution.  The 
government  is  also  dissolved  by  breach  of  trust  in  either  the 
legislature  or  the  prince :  by  the  former,  when  it  usurps  an 

1  c.  16.  »  c.  17.  »  c.  is. 


CHAP.  IV.        OBSERVATIONS  ON  THIS  TREATISE.  201 

arbitrary  power  over  the  lives,  liberties,  and  fortunes  of  the 
subject ;  by  the  latter,  when  he  endeavors  to  corrupt  the  repre- 
sentatives or  to  influence  the  choice  of  the  electors.  If  it  be 
objected,  that  no  government  will  be  able  long  to  subsist  if  the 
people  may  set  up  a  new  legislature  whenever  they  take 
offence  at  the  old  one,  he  replies,  that  mankind  are  too  slow 
and  averse  to  quit  their  old  institutions  for  this  danger  to  be 
apprehended.  Much  will  be  endured  from  rulers  without 
mutiny  or  murmur.  Nor  is  any  thing  more  likely  to  restrain 
governments  than  this  doctrine  of  the  right  of  resistance.  It 
is  as  reasonable  to  tell  men  they  should  not  defend  them- 
selves against  robbers,  because  it  may  occasion  disorder,  as 
to  use  the  same  argument  for  passive  obedience  to  illegal 
dominion.  And  he  observes,  after  quoting  some  other  writers, 
that  Hooker  alone  might  be  enough  to  satisfy  those  who  rely 
on  him  for  their  ecclesiastical  polity.1 

100.  Such  is,  in  substance,  the  celebrated  Treatise  of  Locke 
on  Civil  Government,  which,  with  the  favor  of  politi- 
cal circumstances,  and  the  authority  of  his  name, 
became  the  creed  of  a  numerous  party  at  home; 
while,  silently  spreading  the  fibres  from  its  root  over 
Europe  and  America,  it  prepared  the  way  for  theories  of  poli- 
tical society,  hardly  bolder  in  their  announcement,  but  ex- 
pressed with  more  passionate  ardor,  from  which  the  great 
revolutions  of  the  last  and  present  age  have  sprung.  But,  as 
we  do  not  launch  our  bark  upon  a  stormy  sea,  we  shall  merely 
observe,  that  neither  the  Revolution  of  1688,  nor  the  admin- 
istration of  TVilliam  III.,  could  have  borne  the  test  by  which 
Locke  has  tried  the  legitimacy  of  government.  There  was 
certainly  no  appeal  to  the  people  in  the  former ;  nor  would  it 
have  been  convenient  for  the  latter  to  have  had  the  maxim 
established,  that  an  attempt  to  corrupt  the  legislature  entails 
a  forfeiture  of  the  intrusted  power.  Whether  the  opinion  of 
Locke,  that  mankind  are  slow  to  political  change,  be  con- 
formable to  an  enlarged  experience,  must  be  judged  by  every 
one  according  to  his  reading  and  observation :  it  is  at  least 
very  different  from  that  which  Hooker,  to  whom  he  defers 
so  greatly  in  most  of  his  doctrine,  has  uttered  in  the  very  first 
sentence  of  his  Ecclesiastical  Polity.  For  my  own  part,  I 
must  confess,  that,  in  these  latter  chapters  of  Locke  on  Govern- 
ment, I  see,  what  sometimes  appears  in  his  other  writings,  that 

»  C.  18 


202  AVIS  AUX  REFUGlfeZ.  PAKT  IV. 

the  influence  of  temporary  circumstances  on  a  mind  a  little 
too  susceptible  of  passion  and  resentment,  had  prevented  that 
calm  and  patient  examination  of  all  the  bearings  of  this 
extensive  subject  which  true  philosophy  requires. 

101.  But,  whatever  may  be  our  judgment  of  this  work,  it  is 
equally  true  that  it  opened  a  new  era  of  political  opinion  in 
Europe.     The  earlier  writings  on  the  side  of  popular  sove- 
reignty, whether  those   of  Buchanan   and   Languet,  of  the 
Jesuits,  or   of  the  English  republicans,  had  been  either  too 
closely  dependent  on  temporary  circumstances,  or  too  much 
bound  up  with  odious  and  unsuccessful  factions,  to  sink  very 
deep  into  the  hearts  of  mankind.     Their  adversaries,  with 
the  countenance  of  every  government  on  their  side,  kept  pos- 
session of  the  field ;  and  no  later  jurist  nor  theologian  nor 
philosopher  on  the  Continent,  while  they  generally  followed 
their  predecessors  in  deriving  the  origin  of  civil  society  from 
compact,  ventured  to  moot  the  deh'cate  problem  of  resistance 
to  tyranny,  or  of  the  right  to  reform  a  constitution,  except  in 
the  most  cautious  and  indefinite  language.     We  have  seen 
this  already  in  Grotius  and  Puffendorf.     But  the  success  of 
the  English  Revolution,  the  necessity  which  the  powers  allied 
against  France  found  of  maintaining  the  title  of  William,  the 
peculiar  interest  of  Holland  and  Hanover  (states  at  that  time 
very  strong  in  the  literary  world)  in  our  new  scheme  of  go- 
vernment, gave  a  weight  and  authority  to  principles,  which, 
without  some  such  application,  it  might  still  have  been  thought 
seditious  to  propound.     Locke  too,  long  an  exile  in  Holland, 
was  intimate  with  Le  Clerc,  who  exerted  a  considerable  in- 
fluence over  the  Protestant  part  of  Europe.    Barbeyrac,  some 
time  afterwards,  trod  nearly  in  the  same  steps,  and,  without 
going  all  the  lengths  of  Locke,  did  not  fail  to  take  a  very 
different  tone  from  the  two  older  writers  upon  whom  he  has 
commented. 

102.  It  was  very  natural,  that  the  French  Protestants,  among 

whom  traditions  of  a  turn  of  thinking  not  the  most 
Kefugiez.  favorable  to  kings  may  have  been  preserved,  should, 
Ba^ie  y  *n  ^ie  h°ur  °f  severe  persecution,  mutiny  in  words 

and  writings  against  the  despotism  that  oppressed 
them.  Such,  it  appeai-s,  had  been  the  language  of  those  exiles, 
as  it  is  of  all  exiles,  when  an  anonymous  tract,  entitled  Avis 
aux  Refugiez,  Avas  published  with  the  date  of  Amsterdam,  in 
1G90.  This,  under  pretext  of  giving  advice,  in  the  event  of 


CHAP.  IV.  POLITICAL  ECONOMISTS.  203 

their  being  permitted  to  return  home,  that  they  should  get  rid 
of  their  spirit  of  satire  and  of  their  republican  theories,  is  a 
bitter  and  able  attack  on  those  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Hol- 
land. It  asserts  the  principle  of  passive  obedience ;  extolling 
also  the  king  of  France  and  his  government,  and  censuring 
the  English  Revolution.  Public  rumor  ascribed  this  to 
Bayle :  it  has  usually  passed  for  his,  and  is  even  inserted  in 
the  collection  of  his  miscellaneous  works.  Some,  however, 
have  ascribed  it  to  Pelisson,  and  others  to  Larroque ;  one 
already,  and  the  other  soon  after,  proselytes  to  the  Church 
of  Rome.  Basnage  thought  it  written  by  the  latter,  and  pub- 
lished by  Bayle,  to  whom  he  ascribed  the  preface.  This  is 
apparently  in  a  totally  opposite  strain,  but  not  without  strong 
suspicion  of  irony  or  ill  faith.  The  style  and  manner  of  the 
whole  appear  to  suggest  Bayle ;  and,  though  the  supposition 
is  very  discreditable  to  his  memory,  the  weight  of  presumption 
seems  much  to  incline  that  way. 

103.  The  separation  of  political  economy  from  the  general 
science  which  regards  the  well-being  of  communi-  political 
ties  was  not  so  strictly  made  by  the  earlier  philoso-  e001101111848- 
phers  as  in  modern  times.  It  does  not  follow  that  national 
wealth  engaged  none  of  their  attention.  Few,  on  the  contra- 
ry, of  those  who  have  taken  comprehensive  views,  could  have 
failed  to  regard  it.  In  Bodin,  Botero,  Bacon,  Hobbes,  Puf- 
fendorf,  we  have  already  seen  proofs  of  this.  These  may  be 
said  to  have  discussed  the  subject,  not  systematically,  nor 
always  with  thorough  knowledge,  but  with  acuteness  and  in  a 
philosophical  tone.  Others  there  were  of  a  more  limited 
range,  whose  habits  of  life  and  experience  led  them  to  particu- 
lar departments  of  economical  inquiry,  especially  as  to  com- 
merce, the  precious  metals,  and  the  laws  affecting  them.  The 
Italians  led  the  way :  Serra  has  been  mentioned  in  the  last 
period,  and  a  few  more  might  find  a  place  in  this.  De  Witt's 
Interest  of  Holland  can  hardly  be  reckoned  among  economical 
writings ;  and  it  is  said  by  Morhof,  that  the  Dutch  were  not 
fond  of  promulgating  their  commercial  knowledge : J  little,  at 
least,  was  contributed  from  that  country,  even  at  a  later  period, 
towards  the  theory  of  becoming  rich.  But  England  now  took 
a  large  share  in  this  new  literature.  Free,  inquisitive,  thriv- 
ing rapidly  in  commerce,  so  that  her  progress  even  in  the 
nineteenth  century  has  hardly  been  in  a  greater  ratio  than 

»  Potyhistor,  part  iii.  lib.  iii.  §  3. 


204  MUN  ON  FOREIGN  TRADE.  —  CHILD.         PAHT  IV. 

before  and  after  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth,  if  we  may 
trust  the  statements  of  contemporaries,  she  produced  some 
writers,  who,  though  few  of  them  merit  the  name  of  philoso- 
phers, yet  may  not  here  be  overlooked,  on  account  of  their 
influence,  their  reputation,  or  their  position  as  links  in  the 
chain  of  science. 

104.  The  first  of  these  was  Thomas  Mun,  an  intelligent 
Mun  on  merchant  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  century,  whose 
foreign  posthumous  treatise,  England's  Treasure  by  Foreign 
Trade,  was  published  in  1664,  but  seems  to  have 
been  written  soon  after  the  accession  of  Charles  I.1  Mun  is 
generally  reckoned  the  founder  of  what  has  been  called  the 
mercantile  system.  Plis  main  position  is,  that  "the  ordinary 
means  to  increase  our  wealth  and  treasure  is  by  foreign  trade, 
wherein  we  must  ever  observe  this  rule,  to  sell  more  to 
strangers  yearly  than  we  consume  of  theirs  in  value."  2  "We 
must  therefore  sell  as  cheap  as  possible  :  it  was  by  undersell- 
ing the  Venetians  of  late  years,  that  we  -had  exported  a  great 
deal  of  cloth  to  Turkey.3  It  is  singular  that  Mun  should  not 
have  perceived  the  difficulty  of  selling  very  cheap  the  produc- 
tions of  a  country's  labor,  whose  gold  and  silver  were  in  great 
abundance.  He  was,  however,  too  good  a  merchant  not  to 
acknowledge  the  inefficacy  and  impolicy  of  restraining  by  law 
the  exportation  of  coin,  which  is  often  a  means  of  increasing 
our  treasure  in  the  long-run ;  advising  instead  a  due  regard 
to  the  balance  of  trade,  or  general  surplus  of  exported  goods, 
by  which  we  shall  infallibly  obtain  a  stock  of  gold  and  silver. 
These  notions  have  long  since  been  covered  with  ridicule ; 
and  it  is  plain,  that,  in  a  merely  economical  view,  they  must 
always  be  delusive.  Mun,  however,  looked  to  the  accumula- 
tion of  a  portion  of  this  imported  treasure  by  the  state ;  a 
resource  in  critical  emergencies  which  we  have  now  learned 
to  despise  since  others  have  been  at  hand,  but  which  in 
reality  had  made  a  great  difference  in  the  events  of  war,  and 
changed  the  balance  of  power  between  many  commonwealths, 
cwid  on  Mun  was  followed,  about  1670,  by  Sir  Josiah  Child, 
Trade.  jn  a  discourse  on  Trade,  written  on  the  same  prin- 
ciples of  the  mercantile  system,  but  more  copious  and 
varied.  The  chief  aim  of  Child  is  to  effect  a  reduction  of  the 

1  Mr.  M'Culloch  says  (Introductory  1635  or  1640.  I  remarked  some  thingi 
Discourse  to  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations)  which  serve  to  -Jarry  it  up  a  little  higher. 
\t  had  tost  probably  been  written  about  »  P.  11  (edit.  1664).  »  P.  18. 


CHAP.  IV.  LOCKE  ON  THE  COIN.  205 

legal  interest  of  money  from  sir.  to  four  per  cent,  drawing  an 
erroneous  inference  from  the  increase  of  wealth  which  had 
followed  similar  enactments. 

105.  Among  the  many  difficulties  with  which  the  govern- 
ment of  William  III.  had  to   contend,  one  of  the  Locke  on 
most  embarrassing  was  the  scarcity  of  the  precious   the  Coin- 
metals  and  depi-eciated  condition  of  the  coin.     This  opened 
the  whole  field  of  controversy  in  that  province  of  political 
economy ;  and  the  bold  spirit  of  inquiry,  unshackled  by  preju- 
dice in  favor  of  ancient  custom,  which  in  all   respects  was 
characteristic  of  that  age,  began  to  work  by  reasonings  on 
general  theorems,  instead  of  collecting  insulated  and  inconclu- 
sive details.     Locke  stood  forward  on  this,  as  on   so   many 
subjects,  with  his  masculine  sense  and  habitual  closeness  of 
thinking.     His  Considerations  of  the  Consequences  of  lower- 
ing Interest,  and  raising  the  Value  of  Money,  were  published 
in  1691.     Two  further  treatises  are  in  answer  to  the  pam- 
phlets of  Lowndes.     These  economical  writings  of  Locke  are 
not  in  all  points  conformable  to  the   modern   principles   of 
the  science.     He  seems  to  incline  rather  too  much  towards  the 
mercantile  theory,  and  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  posses- 
sion of  the  precious  metals.     From  his  excellent  sense,  how- 
ever, as  well  as  from  some  expressions,  I  should  conceive  that 
he  only  considers  them,  as  they  doubtless  are,  a  portion  of  the 
exchangeable  wealth  of  the  nation,  and  by  their  inconsumable 
nature,  as  well  as  by  the  constancy  of  the  demand  for  them, 
one  of  the  most  important.     "  Riches  do  not  consist,"  he  says, 
"in  having  more  gold   and   silver,  but  in   having  more   in 
proportion  than  the  rest  of  the  world  or  than  our  neighbors, 
whereby  we  are  enabled  to  procure  to  ourselves  a  greater 
plenty  of  the  conveniences  of  life." 

106.  Locke  had  the  sagacity  to  perceive  the  impossibility 
of  regulating  the  interest  of  money  by  law.     It  was  an  empiri- 
cal proposition  at  that  time,  as  we  have  just  seen,  of  Sir 
Josiah  Child,  to  render  loans  more  easy  to  the  borrower  by 
reducing  the  legal  rate  to  four  per  cent.     The  whole   drift 
of  his  reasoning  is  against  any  limitation,  though,  from  fear  of 
appearing  too  paradoxical,  he  does  not  arrive  at  that  infer- 
ence.    For  the  reasons  he  gives  in  favor  of  a  legal  limit  of 
interest,  namely,  that  courts  of  law  may  have  some  rule  where 
nothing  is  stipulated  in  the  contract,  and  that  a  few  money- 
lenders in  the  metropolis  may  not  have  the  monopoly  of  all 


206  STATISTICAL  TRACTS.  PART  IV. 

loans  in  England,  are,  especially  the  first,  so  trifling,  that  lie 
could  not  have  relied  upon  them ;  and  indeed  he  admits,  that, 
in  other  circumstances,  there  would  be  no  danger  from  the 
second.  But,  his  prudence  having  restrained  him  from  speak- 
ing out,  a  famous  writer  almost  a  century  afterwards  came 
forward  to  assert  a  paradox,  which  he  loved  the  better  for 
seeming  such,  and  finally  to  convince  the  thinking  part  of 
mankind. 

107.  Laws  fixing  the  value  of  silver,  Locke  perceived  to  be 
nugatory,  and  is  averse  to  prohibiting  its  exportation.     The 
value  of  money,  he  maintains,  does  not  depend  on  the  rate  of 
interest,  but  on  its  plenty  relatively  to  commodities.     Hence 
the  rate  of  interest,  he  thinks,  but  perhaps  erroneously,  does 
not  govern  the  price  of  land  ;  arguing  from  the  higher  rate  of 
land  relatively  to  money,  that  is,  the  worse  interest  it  gave,  in 
the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James,  than  in  his   own   time. 
But  one  of  Locke's   positions,  if  generally  received,  would 
alone  have  sufficed  to  lower  the  value  of  land.     "  It  is  in  vain," 
he  says,  "  in  a  country  whose  great  fund  is  land,  to  hope  to  lay 
the  public  charges  of  the  government  on  any  thing  else :  there 
at  last  it  will  terminate."     The  legislature  soon  proceeded  to 
act  on   this   mistaken   theory  in   the   annual  land-tax ;    an 
impost  of  tremendous  severity  at  that  time,  the  gross  unfair- 
ness, however,  of  which  has  been  compensated  in  later  times 
by  the  taxes  on  personal  succession. 

108.  In  such  a  monetary  crisis  as  that  of  his  time,  Locke 
was  naturally  obliged  to  consider  the  usual  resource  of  raising 
the  denomination  of  the  coin.     This,  he  truly  says,  would  be 
to  rob  all  creditors  of  such  a  proportion  of  their  debts.     It  is 
probable  that  his  influence,  which  was  very  considerable,  may 
have  put  a  stop  to  the  scheme.     He  contends  in  his  Further 
Considerations,  in  answer  to  a  tract  by  Lowndes,  that  clipped 
money  should  go  only  by  weight.     This  seems  to  have  been 
agreed  by  both  parties ;  but  Lowndes  thought  the  loss  should 
be  defrayed  by  a  tax,  Locke  that  it  should  fall  on  the  holders. 
Honorably  for  the  government,  the  former  opinion  prevailed. 

109.  The  Italians  were  the  first  who  laid  any  thing  like  a 
statistical    foundation  for  statistics  or  political  arithmetic ;  that 

which  is  to  the  political  economist  what  general 
history  is  to  the  philosopher.  But  their  numerical  reckonings 
of  population,  houses,  value  of  lands  or  stock,  and  the  like, 
though  very  curious,  and  sometimes  taken  from  public  docu- 


CHAP.  IV.  STATISTICAL  TRACTS.  207 

meats,  were  not  always  more  than  conjectural,  nor  are  they 
so  full  and  minute  as  the  spirit  of  calculation  demands.  Eng- 
land here  again  took  the  lead  in  Graunt's  Observations  on  the 
Bills  of  Mortality,  1661,  in  Petty's  Political  Arithmetic 
(posthumous  in  1691),  and  other  treatises  of  the  same  ingeni- 
ous and  philosophical  person,  and,  we  may  add,  in  the  Obser- 
vations of  Gregory  King  on  the  Natural  and  Political  State 
of  England  ;  for,  though  these  were  not  published  till  near  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  manuscripts  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  Dr.  Charles  Davenant,  who  has  made  extracts 
from  them  in  his  own  valuable  contributions  to  political  arith- 
metic. King  seems  to  have  possessed  a  sagacity  which  has 
sometimes  brought  his  conjectures  nearer  to  the  mark,  than, 
from  the  imperfection  of  his  data,  it  was  reasonable  to  expect. 
Yet  he  supposes  that  the  population  of  England,  which  he 
estimated,  perhaps  rightly,  at  five  millions  and  a  half,  would 
not  reach  the  double  of  that  number  before  A.D.  2300.  Sir 
William  Petty,  with  a  mind  capable  of  just  and  novel  theo- 
ries, was  struck  by  the  necessary  consequences  of  an  uniform- 
ly progressive  population.  Though  the  rate  of  movement 
seemed  to  him,  as  in  truth  it  then  was,  much  slower  than  we 
have  latterly  found  it,  he  clearly  saw  that  its  continuance 
would  in  an  ascertainable  length  of  time  overload  the  world; 
"and  then,"  according  to  the  prediction  of  the  Scriptures, 
"  there  must  be  wars  and  great  slaughter."  He  conceived  that, 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  the  population  of  a  country 
would  be  doubled  in  two  hundred  years ;  but  the  whole 
conditions  of  the  problem  were  far  less  understood  than  at 
present.  Davenant's  Essay  on  Ways  and  Means,  1693, 
gained  him  a  high  reputation,  which  he  endeavored  to  aug- 
ment by  many  subsequent  works ;  some  falling  within  the 
seventeenth  century.  He  was  a  man  of  more  enlarged 
reading  than  his  predecessors,  with  the  exception  of  Petty, 
and  of  close  attention  to  the  statistical  documents  which  were 
now  more  copiously  published  than  before ;  but  he  seldom 
launches  into  any  extensive  theory,  confining  himself  rather 
to  the  accumulation  of  facts,  and  to  the  immediate  inferences, 
generally  for  temporary  purposes,  which  they  supplied. 


203  JUllISPRUDENCE.  PAET  IV 


SECT.  III.  —  ON  JURISPRUDENCE. 

110.  IN  1667,  a  short  book  was  published  at  Frankfort,  by 
Works  of     a  voune  man  °^  twenty-two  years,  entitled  Method! 
Leibnitz  on  Novse  Discendae  Docendasque  Jurisprudents*}.     The 

law'  science  which  of  all  others  had  been  deemed  to 
require  the  most  protracted  labor,  the  ripest  judgment,  the 
most  experienced  discrimination,  was,  as  it  were,  inv'aded  by 
a  boy,  but  by  one  who  had  the  genius  of  an  Alexander,  and 
for  whom  the  glories  of  an  Alexander  were  reserved.  This 
is  the  first  production  of  Leibnitz ;  and  it  is  probably  in  many 
points  of  view  the  most  remarkable  work  that  has  premature- 
ly united  erudition  and  solidity.  We  admire  in  it  the  vast 
range  of  learning  (for,  though  he  could  not  have  read  all  the 
books  he  names,  there  is  evidence  of  his  acquaintance  with  a 
great  number,  and  at  least  with  a  well-filled  chart  of  litera- 
ture), the  originality  of  some  ideas,  the  commanding  and 
comprehensive  views  he  embraces,  the  philosophical  spirit,  the 
compressed  style  in  which  it  is  written,  the  entire  absence  of 
juvenility,  of  ostentatious  paradox,1  of  imagination,  ardor,  and 
enthusiasm,  which,  though  Leibnitz  did  not  always  want 
them,  would  have  been  wholly  misplaced  on  such  a  subject. 
Faults  have  been  censured  in  this  early  performance ;  and  the 
author  declared  himself  afterwards  dissatisfied  with  it.2 

111.  Leibnitz  was  a  passionate   admirer  of  the    Roman 
jurisprudence :  he  held  the  great  lawyers  of  antiquity  second 
only  to  the  best  geometers  for  strong  and  subtle   and   pro- 
found reasoning ;  not  even  acknowledging,  to  any  considerable 
degree,  the  contradictions  (antinomies  juris)  which  had  per- 

1  I  use  the  epithet  "  ostentatious,"  be-        *  This  tract,  and  all  the  other  works  of 

cause  some  of  his  original  theories  are  a  Leibnitz  on  Jurisprudence,  will  be  found 

little  paradoxical :  thus  he  has  a  singular  in  the  fourth  volume  of  his  works  by  Du- 

notion  that  the  right  of  bequeathing  pro-  tens.     An  analysis  by  Bon,  professor  of 

perty  by  testament  is  derived  from  the  im-  law  at  Turin,  is  prefixed  to  the  Method! 

mortality  of  the  soul;    the  living  heirs  Novae;  and  he  has  pointed  out  a  few  errors, 

being,  as  it  were,  the  attorneys  of  those  we  Leibnitz  says  in  a  letter  about  1676.  that 

supposed  to  be  dead.   "  Quia  mortui  revera  his  book  was  "effusus  potius  quam  scrip- 

adhuc  vivunt,  ideo  manent  domini  rerum,  tus,  in  itinere,  sine  libris,"  &c. ;  and  that 

quosverohaeredesreliquerunt,  concipiendi  it  contained  some  things   he  no  longer 

sunt  ut  procuratores  in  rem  suam."  In  our  would  have  said,  though  there  were  others 

own  discussions  on  the  law  of  entail,  I  am  of  which  he  did  not  repent.     Lerrninier, 

not  aware  that  this  argument  has  ever  been  Hist,  du  Droit,  p.  150. 
explicitly  urged,  though  the  advocates  of 
perpetual  control  seem  to  have  none  better. 


CHAP.  IV.  LEIBNITZ  —  GODEFROY  —  DOMAT.  209 

plexed  their  disciples  in  later  times,  and  on  which  many  vol- 
umes had  been  written.  But  the  arrangement  of  Justinian 
he  entirely  disapproved ;  and  in  another  work,  Corporis  Juris 
Reconcinnandi  Ratio,  published  in  1668,  he  pointed  out  the 
necessity  and  what  he  deemed  the  best  method  of  a  new 
distribution.  This  appears  to  be  not  quite  like  what  he  had 
previously  sketched,  and  which  was  rather  a  philosophical 
than  a  very  convenient  method : '  in  this  new  arrangement  he 
proposes  to  retain  the  texts  of  the  Corpus  Juris  Civilie,  but  in 
a  form  rather  like  that  of  the  Pandects  than  of  the  Institutes  ; 
to  the  latter  of  which,  followed  as  it  has  been  among  us  by 
Hale  and  Blackstone,  he  was  very  averse. 

112.  There  was  only  one  man  in  the  world  who  could  have 
left  so  noble  a  science  as  philosophical  jurisprudence  for  pur- 
suits of  a  still  more  exalted  nature,  and  for  which  he  was  still 
more  fitted ;  and  that  man  was  Leibnitz  himself.     He  passed 
onward  to  reap  the  golden  harvests  of  other  fields.     Yet  the 
study  of  law  has  owed  much  to  him :  he  did  much  to  unite  it 
with  moral  philosophy  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  history  on 
the  other ;  a  great  master  of  both,  he  exacted  perhaps  a  more 
comprehensive  course  of  legal  studies  than  the  capacity  of 
ordinary  lawyers  could  grasp.     In  England  also,  its  condu- 
civeness  to  professional  excellence  might  be  hard  to  prove. 
It  is,  however,  certain  that,  in  Germany  at  least,  philology, 
history,  and  philosophy  have  more  or  less,  since  the  time  of 
Leibnitz,  marched  together  under  the  robe  of  law.     "  He  did 
but  pass  over  that  kingdom,"  says  Lerminier,  "and  he  has 
reformed  and  enlarged  it."8 

113.  James  Godefroy  was  thirty  years  engaged  on  an  edi- 
tion of  the  Theodosian  Code,  published  several  years 

after  his  death,  in  1665.      It   is  by  far  the  best    jurists: 
edition  of  that  body  of  laws,  and  retains  a  standard        <fcfroy ; 
value  in  the  historical  department  of  jurisprudence. 
Domat,  a  French  lawyer,  and  one  of  the  Port-Royal  connec- 
tion, in  his  Loix  Civiles  dans  leur  Ordre  Naturel,  the  first  of 
five  volumes  of  which  appeared  in  1689,  carried  into  effect 
the  project  of  Leibnitz,  by  re-arranging  the  laws  of  Justinian, 
which,  especially  the  Pandects,  are  well  known  to  be  confu- 

1  In  his  Method!  Xovae.  he  divides  law,  2.  Succession ;  3.  Possession :  4.  Contract ; 

In  the  didactic  part,  according  to  the  sere-  6.  Injury,  which  gives  right  to  repara- 

ral  sources  of  rights  :  namely,  1.  Nature,  tion. 

which  gives  us  right  over    res    nuUius,  »!  Biogr.   Univ. ;     Lerminier,    Hist,   da 

things  where  there  is  no  prior  property ;  Droit,  p.  142. 

VOL.  IV.  14 


210  LAW  OF  NATIONS— PUFFENDORF.  PART  IV. 

sedly  distributed,  in  a  more  regular  method ;  prefixing  a  book 
of  his  own  on  the  nature  and  spirit  of  law  in  general. 
This  appears  to  be  an  useful  digest  or  abridgment,  some- 
tliing  like  those  made  by  Viner  and  earlier  writers  of  our  own 
text-books,  but  perhaps  with  more  compression  and  choice : 
two  editions  of  an  English  translation  were  published.  Do- 
mat's  Public  Law,  which  might,  perhaps,  in  our  language, 
have  been  called  constitutional,  since  we  generally  confine  the 
epithet  "  public  "  to  the  law  of  nations,  forms  a  second  part  of 
the  same  work,  and  contains  a  more  extensive  system,  where- 
in theological  morality,  ecclesiastical  ordinances,  and  the  fun- 
damental laws  of  the  French  monarchy,  are  reduced  into 
method.  Domat  is  much  extolled  by  his  countrymen ;  but, 
in  philosophical  jurisprudence,  he  seems  to  display  little  force 
or  originality.  Gravina,  who  obtained  a  high  name  in  this 
literature  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  was  known 
merely  as  a  professor  at  the  close  of  this  ;  but  a  Dutch  jurist, 
Noodt  on  Gerard  Noodt,  may  deserve  mention  for  his  treatise 
Usury.  on  Usury,  in  1698,  wherein  he  both  endeavors  to 
prove  its  natural  and  religious  lawfulness,  and  traces  its  history 
through  the  Roman  law.  Several  other  works  of  Noodt  on 
subjects  of  historical  jurisprudence  seem  to  fall  within  this 
century,  though  I  do  not  find  their  exact  dates  of  publication. 
114.  Grotius  was  the  acknowledged  master  of  all  who 
Lawof  studied  the  theory  of  international  right.  It  was, 
Nations:  perhaps,  the  design  of  Puffendorf,  as  we  may  con- 
Puffendorf.  jecture  by  tne  fafe  of  fas  great  work  On  the  Law  of 

Nature  and  Nations,  to  range  over  the  latter  field  with  as 
assiduous  diligence  as  the  former.  But,  from  the  length  of 
his  prolix  labor  on  natural  law  and  the  rights  of  sovereigns, 
he  has  not  more  than  one-twentieth  of  the  whole  volume  to 
spare  for  international  questions  ;  and  this  is  in  great  measure 
copied  or  abridged  from  Grotius.  In  some  instances  he  dis- 
agrees with  his  master.  Puffendorf  singularly  denies,  that 
compacts  made  during  war  are  binding  by  the  law  of  nature, 
but  for  weak  and  unintelligible  reasons.1  Treaties  of  peace 
extorted  by  unjust  force,  he  denies  with  more  reason  to  be 
binding ;  though  Grotius  had  held  the  contrary.2  The  infe- 
rior writers  on  the  law  of  nations,  or  those  who,  like  "Wic- 
quefort,  in  his  Ambassador,  confined  themselves  to  merely 
conventional  usages,  it  is  needless  to  mention. 

»  B.  Tiil.  chap.  7.  *  Chap.  8. 


C*JL*.  V.  ITALIAN  POETRY  — FILICAJA.  211 


CHAPTER  V. 

HISTORY    OP    POETBY    FROM    1650    TO    1700. 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  ITALIAN  POETKY. 

Filicaja —  Guidi  —  Menzini  —  Arcadian  Society. 

1.  THE  imitators  of  Marini,  full  of  extravagant  metaphors, 
and  the  false  thoughts  usually  called  concetti,  were  in 

their  vigor  at  the  commencement  of  this  period,  J^e™/6*1 
But  their  names  are  now  obscure,  and  have  been  Italian 
overwhelmed  by  the  change  of  public  taste,  which  p 
has  condemned  and  proscribed  what  it  once  most  applauded. 
This  change  came  on  long  before  the  close  of  the  century, 
though  not  so  decidedly  but  that  some  traces  of  the  former 
manner  are  discoverable  in  the  majority  of  popular  writers. 
The  general  characteristics,  however,  of  Italian  poetry  were 
now  a  more  masculine  tone ;  a  wider  reach  of  topics,  and  a 
selection  of  the  most  noble  ;  an  abandonment,  except  in  the 
oghter  lyrics,  of  amatory  strains,  and  especially  of  such  as  were 
Janguishiug  and  querulous ;  an  anticipation,  in  short,  as  far  as 
ihe  circumstances  of  the  age  would  permit,  of  that  severe  and 
elevated  style  which  has  been  most  affected  for  the  last  fifty 
years.  It  would  be  futile  to  seek  an  explanation  of  this  man- 
lier spirit  in  any  social  or  political  causes  ;  never  had  Italy  in 
these  respects  been  so  lifeless  :  but  the  world  of  poets  is  often 
not  the  world  around  them,  and  their  stream  of  living  waters 
may  flow,  like  that  of  Arethusa,  without  imbibing  much  from 
the  surrounding  brine.  Chiabrera  had  led  the  way  by  the 
Pindaric  majesty  of  his  odes,  and  had  disciples  of  at  least 
equal  name  with  himself. 

2.  Florence  was  the  mother  of  one  who  did  most  to  invigo- 
rate Italian  poetry,  Vincenzo  Filicaja ;  a  man  gifted   Fi].   . 
with  a  serious,  pure,  and  noble  spirit,  from  which  con- 
genial thoughts  spontaneously  arose,  and  with  an  imagiuatior 


212  F1LICAJA— GUIDL  P\ET  IV. 

rather  vigorous  than  fertile.  The  siege  of  Vienna  in  1 683, 
and  its  glorious  deliverance  by  Sobieski,  are  the  subjects  of 
six  odes.  The  third  of  these,  addressed  to  the  King  of  Poland 
himself,  is  generally  most  esteemed,  though  I  do  not  perceive 
that  the  first  or  second  are  inferior.  His  ode  to  Rome,  on 
Christina's  taking  up  her  residence  there,  is  in  many  parts 
highly  poetical ;  but  the  flattery  of  representing  this  event  as 
sufficient  to  restore  the  eternal  city  from  decay  is  too  gross. 
It  is  not,  on  the  whole,  so  successful  as  those  on  the  siege  of 
Vienna.  A  better  is  that  addressed  to  Florence,  on  leaving" 
it  for  a  rural  solitude,  in  consequence  of  his  poverty  and  the 
neglect  he  had  experienced.  It  breathes  an  injured  spirit, 
something  like  the  Complaint  of  Cowley,  with  which  posterity 
are  sure  to  sympathize.  The  sonnet  of  Filicaja,  Italia  mia, 
is  known  by  every  one  who  cares  for  this  poetry  at  all.  This 
sonnet  is  conspicuous  for  its  depth  of  feeling,  for  the  spirit 
of  its  commencement,  and,  above  all,  for  the  noble  lines  with 
which  it  ends ;  but  there  are  surely  awkward  and  feeble  ex- 
pressions in  the  intermediate  part.  Armenti  for  regiments  of 
dragoons  could  only  be  excused  by  frequent  usage  in  poetry, 
which,  I  presume,  is  not  the  case,  though  we  find  the  same 
word  in  one  of  Filicaja's  odes.  A  foreigner  may  venture  upon 
this  kind  of  criticism. 

3.  Filicaja  was  formed  in  the  school  of  Chiabrera ;  but,  with 
his  pomp  of  sound  and  boldness  of  imagery,  he  is  animated  by 
a  deeper  sense  both  of  religion  and  patriotism.     We  perceive 
more  the  language  of  the  heart :  the  man  speaks  in  his  genu- 
ine character,  not  with  assumed  and  mercenary  sensibility, 
like  that  of  Pindar  and  Chiabrera.     His  genius  is  greater  than 
his  skill :   he  abandons  himself  to  an  impetuosity  which  he 
oannot   sustain,   forgetful   of   the  economy  of  strength  and 
breath,  as  necessary  for  a  poet  as  a  race-horse.     He  has  rarely 
or  never  any  conceits  or  frivolous  thoughts ;  but  the  expression 
is  sometimes  rather  feeble.     There  is  a  general  want  of  sun- 
shine in  Filicaja's  poetry ;    unprosperous   himself,  he  views 
nothing  with  a  worldly  eye ;  his  notes  of  triumph  are  without 
brilliancy,  his  predictions  of  success  are  without  joy.     He 
seems  also  deficient  in  the  charms  of  grace  and  felicity.     But 
his  poetry  is  always  the  effusion  of  a  fine  soul :  we  venerate 
and  love  Filicaja  as  a  man,  but  we  also  acknowledge  that  he 
was  a  real  poet. 

4.  Guidi,  a  native  of  Pavia,  raised  himself  to  the  highest 


CHAP  V.  GUIDI— MEXZm.  213 

point  that  any  lyric  poet  of  Italy  has  attained.  His  odes  are 
written  at  Rome  from  about  the  year  1 685  to  the  end  Guidi 
of  the  century.  Compared  with  Chiabrera,  or  even 
Filicaja,  he  may  be  allowed  the  superiority :  if  he  never  rises 
to  a  higher  pitch  than  the  latter,  if  he  has  never  chosen 
subjects  so  animating,  if  he  has  never  displayed  so  much 
depth  and  truth  of  feeling,  his  enthusiasm  is  more  constant, 
his  imagination  more  creative,  his  power  of  language  more 
extensive  and  more  felicitous.  "  He  falls  sometimes,"  says 
Corniani,  "  into  extravagance,  but  never  into  affectation.  .  .  . 
His  peculiar  excellence  is  poetical  expression,  always  brilliant 
with  a  light  of  his  own.  The  magic  of  his  language  used  to 
excite  a  lively  movement  among  the  hearers  when  he  recited 
his  verses  in  the  Arcadian  Society."  Corniani  adds,  that  he  is 
sometimes  exuberant  in  words  and  hyperbolical  in  images.1 

5.  The  ode  of  Guidi  on  Fortune  appears  to  me  at  least 
equal  to  any  in  the  Italian  language.     If  it  has  been  suggested 
by  that  of  Celio  Magno,  entitled  Iddio,  the  resemblance  does 
not  deserve  the  name  of  imitation :   a  nobleness  of  thought, 
imagery,  and  language,  prevails  throughout.     But  this  is  the 
character  of  all  his  odes.     He  chose  better  subjects  than  Chia- 
brera ;   for  the  ruins  of  Rome  are  more  glorious    than   the 
living  house  of  Medici.     He  resembles   him,  indeed,  rather 
than  any  other  poet,  so  that  it  might  not  always  be  easy  to 
discern  one  from  the  other  in  a  single  stanza :  but  Guidi  is  a 
bolder,  a  more  imaginative,  a  more  enthusiastic  poet.     Both 
adorn  and  amplify  a  little  to  excess ;  and  it  may  be  imputed 
to  Guidi,  that  he  has  abused  an  advantage  which  his  native 
language  afforded.     The  Italian  is  rich  in  words,  where  the 
sound  so  well  answers  to  the  meaning,  that  it  is  hardly  possi- 
ble to  hear  them  without  an  associated  sentiment :  their  effect 
is  closely  analogous  to  musical  expression.     Such  are  the 
adjectives    denoting    mental    elevation,   as   superbo,   altiero, 
audace,  gagliardo,   indomito,  maestoso.     These  recur  in  the 
poems  of  Guidi  with  every  noun  that  will  admit  of  them  ;  but 
sometimes  the  artifice  is  a  little  too  transparent,  and,  though 
the  meaning  is  not  sacrificed  to  sound,  we  feel  that  it  is  too 
much  enveloped  in  it,  and  are  not  quite  pleased  that  a  great 
poet  should  rely  so  much  on  a  resource  which  the  most  me- 
chanical slave  of  music  can  employ. 

6.  The  odes  of  Benedetto  Menzini  are  elegant  and  in  poeti- 

*  Vol.  viii.  p.  234 


214  MENZINI  — SALVATOR  ROSA  — REDI.          PART  IV. 

cal  language,  but  such  as  does  not  seem  very  original ;  nor  da 
.  .  they  strike  us  by  much  vigor  or  animation  of  thought. 
The  allusions  to  mythology,  which  we  never  find 
in  Filicaja,  and  rarely  in  Guidi,  are  too  frequent.  Some  of 
these  odes  are  of  considerable  beauty ;  among  which  we  may 
distinguish  that  addressed  to  Magalotti,  beginning,  "  Un  verde 
ramuscello  in  piaggia  aprica."  Menzini  was  far  from  con- 
fining himself  to  this  species  of  poetry :  he  was  better  known 
in  others.  As  an  Anacreontic  poet,  he  stands,  I  believe,  only 
below  Chiabrera  and  Redi.  His  satires  have  been  preferred 
by  some  to  those  of  Ariosto  ;  but  neither  Corniani  nor  Salfi 
acquiesce  in  this  praise.  Their  style  is  a  mixture  of  obsolete 
phrases  from  Dante  with  the  idioms  of  the  Florentine  popu- 
lace ;  and,  though  spirited  in  substance,  they  are  rather  full 
of  commonplace  invective.  Menzini  strikes  boldly  at  priests 
and  governments,  and,  what  was  dangerous  to  Orpheus,  at 
the  whole  sex  of  women.  His  Art  of  Poetry,  in  five  books, 
published  in  1681,  deserves  some  praise.  As  his  atrabilious 
humor  prompted,  he  inveighs  against  the  corruption  of  con- 
temporary literature,  especially  on  the  stage ;  ridiculing  also 
the  Pindaric  pomp  that  some  affected,  not  perhaps  without 
allusion  to  his  enemy  Guidi.  His  own  style  is  pointed,  ani- 
mated, sometimes  poetical,  where  didactic  verse  will  admit  of 
such  ornament,  but  a  little  too  diffuse  and  minute  in  criticism. 
7.  These  three  are  the  great  restorers  of  Italian  poetry 
Saivator  ^^  &Q  usurpation  of  false  taste.  And  it  is  to  be 
R08*;  observed  that  they  introduced  a  new  manner,  very 
different  from  that  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Several 
others  deserve  to  be  mentioned,  though  we  can  only  do  so 
briefly.  The  Satires  of  Saivator  Rosa,  full  of  force  and  vehe- 
mence, more  vigorous  than  elegant,  are  such  as  his  ardent 
genius  and  rather  savage  temper  would  lead  us  to  expect.  A 
far  superior  poet  was  a  man  not  less  eminent  than  Saivator, 
—  the  philosophical  and  every  way  accomplished  Redi.  Few 
have  done  so  much  in  any  part  of  science  who  have  also 
shone  so  brightly  in  the  walks  of  taste.  The  sonnets  of  Redi 
are  esteemed  ;  but  his  famous  dithyrambic,  Bacco  in  Toscana, 
is  admitted  to  be  the  first  poem  of  that  kind  in  modern  lan- 
guage, and  is  as  worthy  of  Monte  Pulciano  wine  as  the  wine 
is  worthy  of  it. 

•     8.  Maggi  and  Lemene  bore  an  honorable  part  in  the  resto- 
ration of  poetry,  though  neither  of  them  is  reckoned  altogether 


CHAP  V.        CHRISTINA  — SOCIETY  OF  ARCADIANS.  215 

to  have  purified  himself  from  the  infection  of  the  preceding 
age.     The  sonnet  of  Pastorini  on  the  imagined  re-  Other 
sistance  of  Genoa  to  the  oppression  of  Louis  XIV.  in 
1684,  though  not  borne  out  by  historical  truth,  is  one  of  those 
breathings  of  Italian  nationality  which  we  always  admire,  and 
which  had  now  become  more  common  than  for  a  century  be- 
fore.    It  must  be  confessed,  in  general,  that,  when  the  protes- 
tations of  a  people  against  tyranny  become  loud  enough  to  be 
heard,  we  may  suspect  that  the  tyranny  has  been  relaxed. 

9.  Kome  was  to  poetry  in  this  age  what  Florence  had  once 
been,  though  Borne  had  hitherto  done  less  for  the  CM.^,^ 
Italian  muses  than  any  other  great  city.  Nor  was  patronage 
this  so  much  due  to  her  bishops  and  cardinals,  as  to 
a  stranger  and  a  woman.  Christina  finally  took  up  her  abode 
there  in  1688.  Her  palace  became  the  resort  of  all  the 
learning  and  genius  she  could  assemble  around  her :  a  literary 
academy  was  established,  and  her  revenue  was  liberally  dis- 
pensed in  pensions.  If  Filicaja  and  Guidi,  both  sharers  of 
her  bounty,  have  exaggerated  her  praises,  much  may  be  par- 
doned to  gratitude,  and  much  also  to  the  natural  admiration 
which  those  who  look  up  to  power  must  feel  for  those  who 
have  renounced  it.  Christina  died  in  1690,  and  her  own  aca- 
demy could  last  no  longer ;  but  a  phoenix  sprang  at  once  from 
its  ashes.  Crescimbeni,  then  young,  has  the  credit  of  having 
planned  the  Society  of  Arcadians,  which 'began  in  society  Of 
1690,  and  has  eclipsed  in  celebrity  most  of  the  earlier  Arcadians, 
academies  of  Italy.  Fourteen,  says  Corniani,  were  the  origi- 
nal founders  of  this  society ;  among  whom  were  Crescimbeni 
and  Gravina  and  Zappi.  In  course  of  time,  the  Arcadians 
vastly  increased,  and  established  colonies  in  the  chief  cities  of 
Italy.  They  determined  to  assume  every  one  a  pastoral  name 
and  a  Greek  birthplace,  to  hold  their  meetings  in  some  ver- 
dant meadow,  and  to  mingle  with  all  their  composition?,  as 
far  as  possible,  images  from  pastoral  life,  —  images  always 
agreeable,  because  they  recall  the  times  of  primitive  innocence. 
This  poetical  tribe  adopted  as  their  device  the  pipe  of  seven 
reeds  bound  with  laurel ;  and  their  president  or  director  was 
denominated  general  shepherd  or  keeper  (custode  generate).1 
The  fantastical  part  of  the  Arcadian  Society  was  common  to 
them  with  all  similar  institutions ;  and  mankind  has  generally 

'  Corniani.  viii.  301  j    Tiraboschi,  xi.  43  ;    Cresrunbeni,  Storia  <T Arcadia   (re- 
printed by  Mathias). 


216  FRENCH  POETRY  — LA  FONTAINE.  PAKT  IV. 

required  some  ceremonial  follies  to  keep  alive  the  wholesome 
spirit  of  association.  Their  solid  aim  was  to  purify  the  na- 
tional taste.  Much  had  been  already  done,  and  in  great 
measure  by  their  own  members,  Menzini  and  Guidi ;  but  their 
influence,  which  was  of  course  more  felt  in  the  next  century, 
has  always  been  reckoned  both  important  and  auspicious  to 
Italian  literature. 


SECT.  IL  —  ON  FRENCH  POETRY. 

La  Fontaine  — BoUeau— Minor  French  Poets. 

10.  WE  must  pass  over  Spain  and  Portugal  as  absolutely 

destitute  of  any  name  which  requires  commemora- 
toe'  tion.  In  France  it  was  very  different :  if  some 
earlier  periods  had  been  not  less  rich  in  the  number  of  versi- 
fiers, none  had  produced  poets  who  have  descended  with  so 
much  renown  to  posterity.  The  most  popular  of  these  was 
La  Fontaine.  Few  writers  have  left  such  a  number  of  verses 
which,  in  the  phrase  of  his  country,  have  made  their  fortune, 
and  been,  like  ready  money,  always  at  hand  for  prompt  quota- 
tion. His  lines  have  at  once  a  proverbial  truth  and  a  humor 
of  expression  which  render  them  constantly  applicable.  This 
is  chiefly  true  of  his  Fables ;  for  his  Tales,  though  no  one 
will  deny  that  they  are  lively  enough,  are  not  reckoned  so  well 
written,  nor  do  they  supply  so  much  for  general  use. 

11.  The  models  of  La  Fontaine's  style  were  partly  the  an- 
Character    cient  fabulists  whom  he  copied,  for  he  pretends  to  no 
iHbics         originality ;  partly  the  old  French  poets,  especially 

Marot.  From  the  one  he  took  the  real  gold  of  his 
fables  themselves ;  from  the  other  he  caught  a  peculiar  arch- 
ness and  vivacity,  which  some  of  them  had  possessed,  perhaps, 
in  no  less  degree,  but  which  becomes  more  captivating  from 
his  intermixture  of  a  solid  and  serious  wisdom.  For,  not- 
withstanding the  common  anecdotes  (sometimes,  as  we  may 
suspect,  rather  exaggerated)  of  La  Fontaine's  simplicity,  he 
was  evidently  a  man  who  had  thought  and  observed  much 
about  human  nature,  and  knew  a  little  more  of  the  world  than 
he  cared  to  let  the  world  perceive.  Many  of  his  fables  are 


CHAP.  V.  BOELEAU.  217 

admirable :  the  grace  of  the  poetry,  the  happy  inspiration 
that  seems  to  have  dictated  the  turns  of  expression,  place  him 
in  the  first  rank  among  fabulists.  Yet  the  praise  of  La  Fon- 
taine should  not  be  indiscriminate.  It  is  said  that  he  gave 
the  preference  to  Phgedrus  and  JEsop  above  himself;  and 
some  have  thought,  that  in  this  he  could  not  have  been 
sincere.  It  was  at  least  a  proof  of  his  modesty.  But  though 
we  cannot  think  of  putting  Phaedrus  on  a  le'sel  with  La 
Fontaine,  were  it  only  for  this  reason,  that,  in  a  work  designed 
for  the  general  reader  (and  surely  fables  are  of  this  descrip- 
tion), the  qualities  that  please  the  many  are  to  be  valued 
above  those  that  please  the  few,  yet  it  is  true  that  the  French 
poet  might  envy  some  talents  of  the  Roman.  Phaedrus,  a 
writer  scarcely  prized  enough,  because  he  is  an  early  school- 
book,  has  a  perfection  of  elegant  beauty  which  very  few  have 
rivalled.  No  word  is  out  of  its  place ;  none  is  redundant,  or 
could  be  changed  for  a  better  :  his  perspicuity  and  ease  make 
every  thing  appear  unpremeditated,  yet  every  thing  is  wrought 
by  consummate  art.  In  many  fables  of  La  Fontaine,  this  is 
not  the  case :  he  beats  round  the  subject,  and  misses  often 
before  he  hits.  Much,  whatever  La  Harpe  may  assert  to  the 
contrary,  could  be  retrenched :  in  much  the  exigencies  of 
rhyme  and  metre  are  too  manifest.1  He  has,  on  the  other 
hand,  far  more  humor  than  Phgedrus ;  and,  whether  it  be 
praise  or  not,  thinks  less  of  his  fable,  and  more  of  its  moral. 
One  pleases  by  enlivening;  the  other  pleases,  but  does  not 
enliven :  one  has  more  felicity,  the  other  more  skill ;  but  in 
such  skill  there  is  felicity. 

12.  The  first  seven  satires  of  Boileau  appeared  in  1666; 
and  these,  though  much  inferior  to  his  later  produc-  Boileau: 
tions,  are  characterized  by  La  Harpe  as  the  earliest  hls  EPlstles- 
poetry  in  the  French  language  where  the  mechanism  of  its 
verse  was  fully  understood,  where  the  style  was  always  pure 

1    Let  us  take,  for  example,   the  first  None  of  these  lines  appear  to  me  very 

lines  of  L'Homme  et  la  Couleuvre :  —  happy ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  about 

«  Un  homme  vit  une  couleuvre.  that  ln  Ita}ics.  whiph  spoils  the  effect  of 

Ahmechante.dit-il,  je  m'en  Tais  faire  un  ^e  preceding,  and  is  feebly  redundant. 

osuvre  -^ae  ^ast  words  are  almost  equally  bad : 

Agreable  -1  tout  1'univers !  no  question  could  arise  about  the  serpent's 

A  ces  mots  Fanimal  pervers  guilt,   which   had  been  assumed  before. 

(C'est  le  serpent  que  je  veux  dire,  But  these  P6"?  blemishes  are  abundantly 

Et  non  I'homme.  on  pourroit  aiscment  Vy  redeemed  by  the  rest  of  the  fable,  which 

tromper)  ia  beautiful  in  choice  of  thoughts  and 

A  ces  mots  le  serpent  se  laissant  attraper  language,  and  may  be  classed  with  th« 

Est  pris,  mis  en  un  sac ;  et,  ce  qui  fut  le  pire.  best  m  the  collection. 

On  resolut  sa  mort,./TK  it  coupable  ou  non." 


218  BOILEAU.  PAET  IV. 

and  elegant,  where  the  ear  was  uniformly  gratified.  The 
Art  of  Poetry  was  published  in  1 673,  the  Lutrin  in  1 674 : 
the  Epistles  followed  at  various  periods.  Their  elaborate 
though  equable  strain,  in  a  kind  of  poetry,  which,  never 
requiring  high  flights  of  fancy,  escapes  the  censure  of  medi- 
ocrity and  monotony  which  might  sometimes  fall  upon  it, 
generally  excites  more  admiration  in  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  the  numerous  defects  of  less  finished  poets, 
than  it  retains  in  a  later  age,  when  others  have  learned  to 
emulate  and  preserve  the  same  uniformity.  The  fame  of 
Pope  was  transcendent  for  this  reason ;  and  Boileau  is  the 
analogue  of  Pope  in  French  literature. 

13.  The  Art  of  Poetry  has  been  the  model  of  the  Essay 
His  Art  of  on  Criticism  :  few  poems  more  resemble  each  other. 
Poetry.  j  wj]j  nO£  wejgn  jn  opposite  scales  two  compositions, 
of  which  one  claims  an  advantage  from  its  having  been  origi- 
nal, the  other  from  the  youth  of  its  author.  Both  are 
uncommon  efforts  of  critical  good  sense ;  and  both  are  distin- 
guished by  their  short  and  pointed  language,  which  remains 
in  the  memory.  Boileau  has  very  well  incorporated  the 
thoughts  of  Horace  with  his  own,  and  given  them  a  skilful 
adaptation  to  his  own  times.  He  was  a  bolder  critic  of  his 
contemporaries  than  Pope.  He  took  up  arms  against  those 
who  shared  the  public  favor,  and  were  placed  by  half  Paris 
among  great  dramatists  and  poets,  —  Pradon,  Desmarests, 
Brebceuf.  This  was  not  true  of  the  heroes  of  the  Dunciad. 
His  scorn  was  always  bitter,  and  probably  sometimes  unjust ; 
yet  posterity  has  ratified  almost  all  his  judgments.  False 
taste,  it  should  be  remembered,  had  long  infected  the  poetry 
of  Europe  ;  some  steps  had  been  lately  taken  to  repress  it : 
but  extravagance,  affectation,  and  excess  of  refinement,  are 
weeds  that  can  only  be  eradicated  by  a  thorough  cleansing  of 
the  soil,  by  a  process  of  burning  and  paring,  which  leaves  not 
a  seed  of  them  in  the  public  mind.  And  when  we  consider 
the  gross  blemishes  of  this  description  that  deform  the  earlier 
poetry  of  France,  as  of  other  nations,  we  cannot  blami;  the 
severity  of  Boileau,  though  he  may  occasionally  have  con- 
demned in  the  mass  what  contained  some  intermixture  of  real 
excellence.  We  have  become  of  late  years  in  England  so 
enamoured  of  the  beauties  of  our  old  writers  (and  certainly 
they  are  of  a  superior  kind),  that  we  are  sometimes  more  than 
a  little  blind  to  their  faults. 


CHAP.  V.  THE  LUTED*.  219 

14.  By  writing  satires,  epistles,  and   an  Art   of  Poetry, 
Boileau  has  challenged  an  obvious  comparison  with  Comparlsoa 
Horace.     Yet  they  are  very  unlike :  one  easy,  collo-  with 
quial,  abandoning  himself  to  every  change  that  arises 

in  his  mind ;  the  other  uniform  as  a  regiment  under  arms, 
always  equal,  always  labored,  incapable  of  a  bold  neglect. 
Poetry  seems  to  have  been  the  delight  of  one,  the  task  of  the 
other.  The  pain  that  Boileau  must  have  felt  in  writing 
communicates  itself  in  some  measure  to  the  reader ;  we  are 
fearful  of  losing  some  point,  of  passing  over  some  epithet 
without  sufficiently  perceiving  its  selection :  it  is  as  with 
those  pictures  which  are  to  be  viewed  long  and  attentively, 
till  our  admiration  of  detached  proofs  of  skill  becomes  weari- 
some by  repetition. 

15.  The  Lutrin   is   the   most  popular  of  the   poems   of 
Boileau.     Its  subject  is  ill  chosen  :  neither  interest  ^  Lutrin> 
nor  variety  could  be  given  to  it.     Tassoni  and  Pope 

have  the  advantage  in  this  respect :  if  their  leading  theme  is 
trifling,  we  lose  sight  of  it  in  the  gay  liveliness  of  description 
and  episode.  In  Boileau,  after  we  have  once  been  told  that 
the  canons  of  a  church  spend  their  lives  in  sleep  and  eating, 
we  have  no  more  to  learn,  and  grow  tired  of  keeping  company 
with  a  race  so  stupid  and  sensual.  But  the  poignant  wit  and 
satire,  the  elegance  and  correctness  of  numberless  couplets, 
as  well  as  the  ingenious  adaptation  of  classical  passages, 
redeem  this  poem,  and  confirm  its  high  place  in  the  mock- 
heroic  line. 

1 6.  The  great  deficiency  of  Boileau  is  in  sensibility.     Far 
below  Pope  or  even  Dryden  in  this  essential  quality, 

which  the  moral  epistle  or  satire  not  only  admits,  but  character 
requires,  he  rarely  quits  two  paths,  —  those  of  reason   °^J 
and  of  raillery.     His  tone  on  moral  subjects  is  firm 
and  severe,  but  not  very  noble :    a  trait  of  pathos,  a  single 
touch  of  pity  or  tenderness,  will  rarely  be  found.     This  of 
itself  serves  to  give  a  dryness  to  his  poetry ;   and  it  may  be 
doubtful,  though  most  have  read  Boileau,  whether  many  have 
read  him  twice. 

17.  The  pompous  tone  of  Ronsard  and  Du  Bartas  had  be- 
come ridiculous  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.     Even  that  of 
Malherbe  was   too   elevated  for   the  public   taste:   none   at 
least  imitated  that  writer,  though  the  critics  had  set  the  ex- 
ample of  admiring  him.     Boileau,  who   had   done   much  to 


220  BENSERADE  —  CHAULIEU.  PAET  IV. 

turn  away  the  world  from  imagination  to  plain  sense,  once 
attempted  to  emulate  the  grandiloquent  strains  of 
poetry  Pindar  in  an  ode  on  the  taking  of  Namur,  but  with 
thuinLfore  no  such  success  as  could  encourage  himself  or  others 
to  repeat  the  experiment.  Yet  there  was  no  want 
of  gravity  or  elevation  in  the  prose  writers  of  France,  nor  in 
the  tragedies  of  Racine.  But  the  French  language  is  not 
very  well  adapted  for  the  higher  kind  of  lyric  poetry,  while  it 
Buits  admirably  the  lighter  forms  of  song  and  epigram.  And 
their  poets  in  this  age  were  almost  entirely  men  living  at 
Paris,  either  in  the  court,  or  at  least  in  a  refined  society,  the 
most  adverse  of  all  to  the  poetical  character.  The  influence 
of  wit  and  politenesss  is  generally  directed  towards  rendering 
enthusiasm,  or  warmth  of  fancy,  ridiculous ;  and  without  these 
no  great  energy  of  genius  can  be  displayed.  But,  in  their 
proper  department,  several  poets  of  considerable  merit  ap- 
peared. 

18.  Benserade  was  called  peculiarly  the  poet  of  the  court: 
for  twenty  years  it  was  his  business  to  compose 
verses  for  the  ballets  represented  before  the  king. 
His  skill  and  tact  were  shown  in  delicate  contrivances  to  make 
those  who  supported  the  characters  of  gods  and  goddesses  in 
these  fictions,  being  the  nobles  and  ladies  of  the  court,  betray 
their  real  inclinations,  and  sometimes  their  gallantries.  He 
even  presumed  to  shadow  in  this  manner  the  passion  of  Louis 
for  Mademoiselle  La  Valiere,  before  it  was  publicly  acknow- 
ledged. Benserade  must  have  had  no  small  ingenuity  and 
adroitness ;  but  his  verses  did  not  survive  those  who  called 
them  forth.  In  a  different  school,  not  essentially,  perhaps, 
much  more  vicious  than  the  court,  but  more  careless  of  appear- 
ances, and  rather  proud  of  an  immorality  which  it  had  no 
interest  to  conceal,  that  of  Ninon  1'Enclos,  several  of  higher 
reputation  grew  up,  —  Chapelle  (whose  real  name  was  L'Huil- 
iier),  La  Fare,  Bachaumont,  Lainezer,  and  Chaulieu.  The 
Chauiieu  ^rst'  PernaPs>  and  certainly  the  last  of  these,  are 
worthy  to  be  remembered.  La  Harpe  has  said  that 
Chaulieu  alone  retains  a  claim  to  be  read  in  a  style  where 
Voltaire  has  so  much  left  all  others  behind,  that  no  compari- 
son with  him  can  ever  be  admitted.  Chaulieu  was  an  origi- 
nal genius :  his  poetry  has  a  marked  character,  being  a  happy 
mixture  of  a  gentle  and  peaceable  philosophy  with  a  lively 
imagination.  His  verses  flow  from  his  soul,  and,  though  often 


CHAP.  T.     SEGRAIS  —  DESHOULlfiEES  -  FOXTEXELLE.  221 

negligent  through  indolence,  are  never  in  bad  taste  or  affected. 
Harmony  of  versification,  grace  and  gayety.  with  a  voluptuous 
and  Epicurean,  but  mild  and  benevolent,  turn  of  thought, 
belong  to  Chaulieu ;  and  these  are  qualities  which  do  not  fail 
to  attract  the  majority  of  readers.1 

19.  It  is  rather  singular  that  a  style  so  uncongenial  to  the 
spirit  of  that  age  as  pastoral  poetry  appears  was  p^ona 
quite  as  much  cultivated  as  before.     But  it  is  still   poetry.   • 
true,  that  the  spirit  of  the  age  gained  the  victory,  and  drove 
the  shepherds  from  their  shady  bowers,  though  without  substi- 
tuting any  thing  more  rational  in  the  fairy  tales  which  super- 
seded the  pastoral  romance.     At  the  middle  of  the  century, 
and  partially  till  near  its  close,  the  style  of  D'Urfe  and  Scu- 
dery  retained  its  popularity.     Three  poets  of  the  age   _^ 
of  Louis  were  known  in  pastoral :  Segrais,  Madame 
Deshoulieres,  and  Fontenelle.     The  first  belongs  most  to  the 
genuine  school  of  modern  pastoral ;  he  is  elegant,  romantic, 
full  of  complaining  love  ;  the  Spanish  and  French  romances 
had  been  his  model  in  invention,  as  Virgil  was  in  style.     La 
Harpe  allows  him  nature,  sweetness,  and  sentiment ;  but  he 
cannot  emulate  the  vivid  coloring  of  Virgil,  and  the  language 
of  his  shepherds,  though  simple,  wants  elegance  and  harmony. 
The  tone  of  his  pastorals  seems  rather  insipid,  though  La 
Harpe  has   quoted   some  pleasing  lines.     Madame   Deshou- 
Deshoulieres,  with  a  purer  style  than  Segrais,  accord-   ^erea. 
ing  to  the  same  critic,  has  less  genius.     Others  have  thought 
her  Idylls  the  best  in  the  language.2     But  these  seem  to  be 
merely  trivial  moralities  addressed  to  flowers,   brooks,  and 
sheep;    sometimes   expressed   in  a  manner   both   ingenious 
and  natural,  but,  on  the  whole,  too  feeble  to  give  much  plea- 
sure.    Bouterwek  observes  that  her  poetry  is  to  be  consi- 
dered as  that  of  a  woman,  and  that  its  pastoral  morality  would 
be  somewhat  childish  in  the  mouth  of  man  :  whether  this  says 
more  for  the  lady,  or  against  her  sex,  I  must  leave  to  the 
reader.     She  has  occasionally  some  very  pleasing  and  even 
poetical  passages.3     The  third  among  these  poets  of  the  pipe 
is  Fontenelle.     But  his  pastorals,  as  Bouterwek  says,  Fontenelle 
are  too  artificial  for  the  ancient  school,  and  too  cold 
for  the  romantic.     La   Harpe  blames,  besides  this  general 
fault,  the  negligence  and  prosaic  phrases  of  his  style.     The 

1  La  Harpe  ;  Eouterweb.  Ti.  127 ;  Biogr.  Unir. 
»  Biogr.  Univ.  »  Bouterwek,  vi.  152. 


222  ENGLISH  POETRY.  PAKT  IV. 

best  is  that  entitled  Ismene.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  poem  for  the 
world  ;  yet,  as  love  and  its  artifices  are  found  everywhere,  we 
cannot  censure  any  passage  as  absolutely  unfit  for  pastoral, 
save  a  certain  refinement  which  belonged  to  the  author  in 
every  thing,  and  which  interferes  with  our  sense  of  rural 
simplicity. 

20.  In  the  superior  walks  of  poetry, -France  had  nothing  of 
Bad  epic      which  she  has  been  inclined  to  boast.     Chapelain,  a 
poems.        man  of  some  credit  as  a  critic,  produced  his  long- 
labored  epic,  La  Pucelle,  in  1656,  which  is  only  remembered 
by  the  insulting  ridicule  of  Boileau.     A  similar  fate  has  fallen 
on  the  Clovis  of  Desmarests,  published  in  1684,  though  the 
German  historian  of  literature  has  extolled  the  richness  of 
imagination   it  shows,  and  observed  that,  if  those  who  saw 
nothing  but  a  fantastic  writer  in  Desmarests  had  possessed  as 
much  fancy,  the  national  poetry  would  have  been  of  a  higher 
character.1     Breboeuf  s  translation  of  the  Pharsalia  is  spirited, 
but  very  extravagant. 

21.  The  literature  of  Germany  was  now  more  corrupted  by 
German      bad  taste  than  ever.     A  second  Silesian  school,  but 
poetry,        much  inferior  to  that  of  Opitz,  was  founded  by  Hoff- 
manswaldau  and  Lohenstein.     The  first  had  great  facility, 
and   imitated   Ovid   and   Marini   with   some  success.      The 
second,  with  worse  taste,  always  tumid  and  striving  at  some- 
thing elevated,  so  that  the  Lohenstein  swell  became  a  byword 
with  later  critics,  is  superior  to  Hoffmanswaldau  in  richness 
of  fancy,  in  poetical  invention,  and  in  warmth  of  feeling  for 
all  that  is  noble  and  great.     About  the  end  of  the  century 
arose  a  new  style,  known  by  the  unhappy  name  spiritless 
(geistlos),  which,  avoiding  the  tone  of  Lohenstein,  became 
wholly  tame  and  flat.2 


SECT.  HE.  —  ON  ENGLISH  POETRY. 

Waller  —  Butler  —  Milton  —  Bryden  —  The  Minor  Poets. 

22.  WE  might  have  placed  Waller  in  the  former  division 
of  the  seventeenth  century  with  no  more  impropriety  than  we 

»  Bouterwek,  yi.  157. 
Id.,  Tol.  x.  p.  288  ;  Heinsius,  IT.  287 ;  Eichhorn,  deschichte  der  Cultur,  iy.  776. 


CHAP.  V.  WALLER  —  BUTLER'S  HTDIBRAS.  223 

might  have  reserved  Cowley  for  the  latter :  both  belong  by 
the  date  of  their  writings  to  the  two  periods ;  and, 
perhaps,  the  poetry  of  Waller  bears  rather  the  stamp 
of  the  first  Charles's  age  than  of  that  which  ensued.  His  repu- 
tation was  great,  and  somewhat  more  durable  than  that  of 
similar  poets  has  generally  been  :  he  did  not  witness  its  decay 
in  his  own  protracted  life,  nor  was  it  much  diminished  at  the 
beginning  of  the  next  century.  Nor  was  this  wholly  unde- 
served. Waller  ha?  a  more  uniform  elegance,  a  more  sure 
facility  and  happiness  of  expression,  and,  above  all,  a  greater 
exemption  from  glaring  faults,  such  as  pedantry,  extravagance, 
conceit,  quaintness,  obscurity,  ungrammatical  and  unmeaning 
constructions,  than  any  of  the  Caroline  era  with  whom  he 
would  naturally  be  compared.  We  have  only  to  open  Carew 
or  Lovelace  to  perceive  the  difference ;  not  that  Waller  is 
wholly  without  some  of  these  faults,  but  that  they  are  much 
less  frequent.  If  others  may  have  brighter  passages  of  fancy 
or  sentiment,  which  is  not  difficult,  he  husbands  better  his 
resources,  and.  though  left  behind  in  the  beginning  of  the  race, 
comes  sooner  to  the  goal.  His  Panegyric  on  Cromwell  was 
celebrated.  "  Such  a  series  of  verses,"  it  is  said  by  Johnson, 
"  had  rarely  appeared  before  in  the  English  language.  Of 
these  lines  some  are  grand,  some  are  graceful,  and  all  are 
musical.  There  is  now  and  then  a  feeble  verse,  or  a  trifling 
thought ;  but  its  great  fault  is  the  choice  of  its  hero."  It 
may  not  be  the  opinion  of  all,  that  Cromwell's  actions  were 
of  that  obscure  and  pitiful  character  which  the  majesty  of  song 
rejects ;  and  Johnson  has  before  observed,  that  Waller's  choice 
of  encomiastic  topics  in  this  poem  is  very  judicious.  Yet  his 
deficiency  in  poetical  vigor  will  surely  be  traced  in  this  com- 
position ;  if  he  rarely  sinks,  he  never  rises  very  high ;  and 
we  find  much  good  sense  and  selection,  much  skill  in  the 
mechanism  of  language  and  metre,  without  ardor  and  without 
imagination.  In  his  amorous  poetry  he  has  little  passion  or 
sensibility ;  but  he  is  never  free  and  petulant,  never  tedious, 
and  never  absurd.  His  praise  consists  much  in  negations; 
but,  in  a  comparative  estimate,  perhaps  negations  ought  to 
count  for  a  good  deal. 

23.  Hudibras  was  incomparably  more  popular  than  Para- 
dise Lost :  no  poem  in  our  language  rose  at  once  to   Butler's 
greater  reputation.     Nor  can  this  be  called  epheme-  HudibrM- 
ral,  like  that  of  most  political  poetry.     For  at  least  half  a 


224  PARADISE  LOST  — CHOICE  OF  SUBJECT.    PART  IV. 

century  after  its  publication,  it  was  generally  read,  and  per- 
petually quoted.  The  wit  of  Butler  has  still  preserved  many 
lines ;  but  Hudibras  now  attracts  comparatively  few  readers. 
The  eulogies  of  Johnson  seem  rather  adapted  to  what  he 
remembered  to  have  been  the  fame  of  Butler  than  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  surrounding  generation ;  and  since  his  time  new 
sources  of  amusement  have  sprung  up,  and  writers  of  a  more 
intelligible  pleasantry  have  superseded  those  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  In  the  fiction  of  Hudibras  there  was  never  much  to 
divert  the  reader,  and  there  is  still  less  left  at  present.  But 
what  has  been  censured  as  a  fault,  —  the  length  of  dialogue, 
which  puts  the  fiction  out  of  sight,  —  is  in  fact  the  source  of  all 
the  pleasure  that  the  work  affords.  The  sense  of  Butler  is 
masculine,  his  wit  inexhaustible,  and  it  is  supplied  from  every 
source  of  reading  and  observation.  But  these  sources  are 
often  so  unknown  to  the  reader,  that  the  wit  loses  its  effect 
through  the  obscurity  of  its  allusions,  and  he  yields  to  the 
bane  of  wit,  a  purblind  mole-like  pedantry.  His  versification 
is  sometimes  spirited,  and  his  rhymes  humorous ;  yet  he  wants 
that  ease  and  flow  which  we  require  in  light  poetry. 

24.  The  subject  of  Paradise  Lost  is  the  finest  that  has 

ever  been  chosen  for  heroic  poetry :  it  is  also  man- 
Lost  i186  aged  by  Milton  with  remarkable  skill.  The  Iliad 
Bub'ect°f  wants  completeness  :  it  has  an  unity  of  its  own,  but 

it  is  the  unity  of  a  part  where  we  miss  the  relation 
to  a  whole.  The  Odyssey  is  not  imperfect  in  this  point  of 
view ;  but  the  subject  is  hardly  extensive  enough  for  a  legiti- 
mate epic.  The  JEneid  is  spread  over  too  long  a  space  ;  and 
perhaps  the  latter  books,  by  the  diversity  of  scene  and  subject, 
lose  part  of  that  intimate  connection  with  the  former  which 
an  epic  poem  requires.  The  Pharsalia  is  open  to  the  same 
criticism  as  the  Iliad.  The  Thebaid  is  not  deficient  in  unity, 
or  greatness  of  action ;  but  it  is  one  that  possesses  no  sort  of 
interest  in  our  eyes.  Tasso  is  far  superior,  both  in  choice 
and  management  of  his  subject,  to  most  of  these ;  yet  the 
Fall  of  Man  has  a  more  general  interest  than  the  Crusade. 

25.  It  must  be  owned,  nevertheless,  that  a  religious  epic 
Open  to       labors  under  some  disadvantages  :    in  proportion  as 
some  dim-    it  attracts  those  who  hold  the  same  tenets  with  the 

author,  it  is  regarded  by  those  who  dissent  from  him 
with  indifference  or  aversion.  It  is  said  that  the  discovery  of 
Milton's  Arianism,  in  fhis  rigid  generation,  has  already  im- 


CHAP.  V.  ITS  ARRANGEMENT.  225 

paired  the  sale  of  Paradise  Lost.  It  is  also  difficult  to  enlai-ge 
or  adorn  such  a  story  by  fiction.  Milton  has  done  much  in 
this  way ;  yet  he  was  partly  restrained  by  the  necessity  of 
conforming  to  Scripture. 

26.  The  ordonnance  or  composition  of  the  Paradise  Lost 
is  admirable ;  and  here  we  perceive  the  advantage  its  arrangc- 
which  Milton's  great  familiarity  with  the  Greek  menfc- 
theatre,  and  his  own  original  scheme  of  the  poem,  had  given 
him.  Every  part  succeeds  in  an  order,  noble,  clear,  and  natu- 
ral. It  might  have  been  wished,  indeed,  that  the  vision  of  the 
eleventh  book  had  not  been  changed  into  the  colder  narrative 
of  the  twelfth.  But  what  can  be  more  majestic  than  the  first 
two  books  which  open  this  great  drama  ?  It  is  true  that  they 
rather  serve  to  confirm  the  sneer  of  Dryden,  that  Satan  is 
Milton's  hero ;  since  they  develop  a  plan  of  action  in  that 
potentate,  which  is  ultimately  successful;  the  triumph  that 
he  and  his  host  must  experience  in  the  fall  of  man  being 
hardly  compensated  by  their  temporary  conversion  into  ser- 
pents ;  a  fiction  rather  too  grotesque.  But  it  is,  perhaps,  only 
pedantry  to  talk  about  the  hero ;  as  if  a  high  personage  were 
absolutely  required  in  an  epic  poem  to  predominate  over  the 
rest.  The  conception  of  Satan  is  doubtless  the  first  effort  of 
Milton's  genius.  Dante  could  not  have  ventured  to  spare  so 
much  lustre  for  a  ruined  archangel,  in  an  age  when  nothing 
less  than  horns  and  a  tail  were  the  orthodox  creed.1 

1  Coleridge  has  a  fine  passage  which  I  In  reading  such  a  paragraph  as  this^ 

cannot   resist    my    desire    to  transcribe,  we  are  struck  by  the  vast  improvement 

"  The   character  of  Satan  is    pride   and  of  the  highest  criticism,  the  philosophy  of 

sensual  indulgence,  finding  in  itself  the  aesthetics,  since  the  days  of  Addison.     His 

motive  of  action.     It  is  the  character  so  papers  in  the  Spectator  on  Paradise  Lost 

often  seen  in  little  on  the  political  stage,  were  perhaps  superior  to  any  criticism 

It  exhibits  all  the  restlessness,  temerity,  that  had  been  written  in  our  language; 

and    cunning    which    have    marked    the  and   we  must  always  acknowledge  their 

mighty  hunters  of  mankind  from  Nimrod  good  sense,  their  judiciousness,   and  the 

to  Napoleon.    The  common  fascination  of  vast  service  they  did  to  our  literature,  in 

man  is,  that  these  great  men,  as  they  are  settling  the  Paradise  Lost  on  its  proper 

called,  must  act  from  some  great  motive,  level.      But   how  little  they  satisfy  us, 

Milton  has  carefully  marked  in  his  Satan  even  in  treating  of  the  natura  naturata, 

the  intense  selfishness,  the  alcohol  of  ego-  the  poem  itself!  and  how  little  conception 

tism,  which  would  rather  reign  in   hell  they  show  of  the  natura  naturans,   the 

than  serve  in  heaven.    To  place  this  lust  individual  genius  of  the  author !    Even  in 

of  self  in  opposition  to  denial  of  self  or  the  periodical  criticism  of  the  present  day, 

duty,  and  to  show  what  exertions  it  would  in   the  midst  of  much  that  is  affected, 

make,  and  what  pains  endure,  to  accomplish  much  that  is  precipitate,  much  that  is 

its  end,  is  Milton's  particular  object  in  the  written  for  mere  display,  we  find  occasional 

character  of  Satan.     But  around  this  cha-  reflections  of  a  profundity  and  discrimi- 

rjurtor  he  has  thrown  a  singularity  of  dar-  nation   which  we    should    seek    in    vain 

ing,  a  grandeur  of  sufferance,  and  a  ruined  through  Dryden  or  Addison,  or  the  two 

splendor,  which  constitute  the  very  height  Wartons,  or  even  Johnson,  though  much 

of   poetic    sublimity."  —  Coleridge's    Ke-  superior  to  the  rest.    Hurd  has,  perhaps, 

mains,  p.  176.  the  merit  of  being  the  first  who  in  this 

VOL.    IV  15 


226  MILTON  COMPARED  WITH  HOMER.          PART  IV. 

27.  Milton  has  displayed  great  skill  in  the  delineations  of 
Characters   Adam  and  Eve :    he  does  not  dress  them  up,  after 
of  Adam      the  fashion  of  orthodox  theology,  which  had  no  spell 

Ye<  to  bind  his  free  spirit,  in  the  fancied  robes  of  primi- 
tive righteousness.  South,  in  one  of  his  sermons,  has  drawn 
a  picture  of  unfallen  man,  which  is  even  poetical ;  but  it  might 
be  asked  by  the  reader,  Why,  then,  did  he  fall?  The  first 
pair  of  Milton  are  innocent  of  course,  but  not  less  frail  than 
their  posterity ;  nor,  except  one  circumstance,  which  seems 
rather  physical  intoxication  than  any  thing  else,  do  we  find 
any  sign  of  depravity  superinduced  upon  their  transgression. 
It  might  even  be  made  a  question  for  profound  theologians, 
whether  Eve,  by  taking  amiss  what  Adam  had  said,  and  by 
self-conceit,  did  not  sin  before  she  tasted  the  fatal  apple.  The 
necessary  paucity  of  actors  in  Paradise  Lost  is  perhaps  the 
apology  of  Sin  and  Death :  they  will  not  bear  exact  criticism, 
yet  we  do  not  wish  them  away. 

28.  The  comparison  of  Milton  with  Homer  has  been  founded 
He  owes      on   *ne  acknowledged  pre-eminence  of  each  in  his 
tess  to         own   language,  and  on  the  lax  application  of  the 
than  the      word  "  epic  "  to  their  great  poems.     But  there  was 
tragedians.  not  much  jn  C0mmon  either  between  their  genius  or 
its  products ;  and  Milton  has  taken  less  in  direct  imitation  from 
Homer  than  from  several  other  poets.     His  favorites  had 
rather  been  Sophocles  and  Euripides :    to  them  he  owes  the 
structure  of  his  blank  verse,  his  swell  and  dignity  of  style,  his 
grave  enunciation  of  moral  and  abstract  sentiment,  his  tone  of 
description,  neither  condensed  like  that  of  Dante,  nor  spread 
out  with  the  diffuseness  of  the  other  Italians  and  of  Homer 
himself.     Next  to  these  Greek  tragedians,  Virgil  seems  to 
have  been  his  model ;   with  the  minor  Latin  poets,  except 
Ovid,  he  does  not,  I  think,  show  any  great  familiarity ;  and 
though  abundantly  conversant  with  Ariosto,  Tasso,  and  Ma- 
rini,  we  cannot  say  that  they  influenced  his  manner,  which, 
unlike  theirs,  is  severe  and  stately,  never  light,  nor,  in  the 
sense  we  should  apply  the  words  to  them,  rapid   and  ani- 
mated.1 

country  mined  at  philosophical  criticism  :  assumes  a  dogmatic  arrogance,  which,  aa 

he  had  great  ingenuity,  a  good  deal  of  it  always  offends  the  reader,  so  for  the 

reading,   and  a  facility  in    applying  it ;  most  part  stands  in  the  way  of  the  au- 

but  he  did  not  feel  Tery  deeply,  was  some-  thor's  own  search  for  truth, 
what  of  a  coxcomb,  and  having  always        1  The  solemnity  of  Milton  is  striking  in 

before  his  eyes  a  model  neither  good  in  those   passages  where  some  other  poet) 

Itself,  nor  made  fir  him  to  emulate,   he  would  indulge  a  little  in  voluptuousness ; 


CHAP.  V.  COMPAEED  WITH  DANTE.  227 

* 

29.  To  Dante,  however,  he  bears  a  much  greater  likeness. 
He  has,  in  common  with  that  poet,  an  uniform  seri-  compared 
ousness  ;  for  the  brighter  coloring  of  both  is  but  the  ^^  Dante, 
smile  of  a  pensive  mind,  a  fondness  for  argumentative  speech, 
and  for  the  same  strain  of  argument.     This  indeed  proceeds 
in  part  from  the  general  similarity,  the  religious  and  even 
theological  cast  of  their  subjects :  I  advert  particularly  to  the 
last  part  of  Dante's  poem,     "We  may  almost  say,  when  we 
look  to  the  resemblance  of  their  prose  writings  in  the  proud 
sense   of    being  born   for   some   great    achievement,    which 
breathes  through  the  Vita  Nuova,  as  it  does  through  Milton's 
earlier  treatises,  that  they  were  twin  spirits,  and  that  each 
might  have  animated  the  other's  body  ;  that  each  would,  as  it 
were,  have  been  the  other,  if  he  had  lived  in  the  other's  age. 
As  it  is,  I  incline  to  prefer  Milton,  that  is,  the  Paradise  Lost, 
both  because  the  subject  is  more  extensive,  and  because  the 
resources  of  his  genius  are  more  multifarious.     Dante  sins 
more  against  good  taste,  but  only  perhaps  because  there  was 
no  good  taste  in  his  time ;    for  Milton  has  also  too  much  a 
disposition  to  make  the  grotesque  accessoiy  to  the  terrible. 
Could  Milton  have  written  the  lines  on  Ugolino?     Perhaps 
he  could.     Those  on  Francesca?     Not,  I  think,  every  line. 
Could  Dante  have  planned  such  a  poem  as  Paradise  Lost  ? 
Not  certainly,  being  Dante  in  1300  ;  but,  living  when  Milton 
did,  perhaps  he  could.     It  is,  however,  useless  to  go  on  with 
questions   that  no  one  can  fully  answer.     To  compare  the 
two  poets,  read  two  or  three  cantos  of  the  Purgatory  or  Para- 
dise, and  then  two  or  three  hundred  lines  of  Paradise  Lost. 
Then  take  Homer,  or  even  Virgil :  the  difference  will  be  strik- 
ing.    Yet,  notwithstanding  this  analogy  of  their  minds,  I  have 
not  perceived  that  Milton  imitates  Dante  very  often,  probably 
from  having  committed  less  to  memory  while  young  (and 
Dante  was  not  the  favorite  poet  of  Italy  when  Milton  was 
there),  than  of  Ariosto  and  Tasso. 

30.  Each  of  these  great  men  chose  the  subject  that  suited 
his  natural  temper  and  genius.     What,  it  is  curious  to  conjec- 
ture, would  have  been  Milton's  success  in  his  original  design, 
a  British  story  ?     Far  less,  surely,  than  in  Paradise  Lost :  he 
wanted  the  rapidity  of  the  common  heroic  poem,  and  would 
always  have  been  sententious,  perhaps  arid  and  heavy.     Yet, 

and  the    more    go,    because   this  is  not    in  Paradise  Lost  are  rather  too  plain,  and 
wholly  uncr  ogenial  to  him-    A  few  lines    their  gravity  makes  them  worse. 


223  STYLE  OF  MILTON.  PART  IV. 

even  as  religious  poets,  there  are  several  remarkable  distinc- 
tions between  Milton  and  Dante.  It  has  been  justly  observed, 
that,  in  the  Paradise  of  Dante,  he  makes  use  of  but  three 
leading  ideas, — light,  music,  and  motion;  and  that  Milton  has 
drawn  heaven  in  less  pure  and  spiritual  colors.1  The  philo- 
sophical imagination  of  the  formei',  in  this  third  part  of  lu's 
poem,  almost  defecated  from  all  sublunary  things  by  long  and 
solitary  musing,  spiritualizes  all  that  it  touches.  The  genius 
of  Milton,  though  itself  subjective,  was  less  so  than  that  of 
Dante ;  and  he  has  to  recount,  to  describe,  to  bring  deeds  and 
passions  before  the  eye.  And  two  peculiar  causes  may  be 
assigned  for  this  difference  in  the  treatment  of  celestial  things 
between  the  Divine  Comedy  and  the  Paradise  Lost :  the  dra- 
matic form  which  Milton  had  originally  designed  to  adopt,  and 
his  own  theological  bias  towards  anthropomorphism,  which  his 
posthumous  treatise  on  religion  has  brought  to  light.  This 
was  no  doubt  in  some  measure  inevitable  in  such  a  subject  as 
that  of  Paradise  Lost;  yet  much  that  is  ascribed  to  God, 
sometimes  with  the  sanction  of  Scripture,  sometimes  without 
it,  is  not  wholly  pleasing ;  such  as  "  the  oath  that  shook 
Heaven's  whole  circumference,"  and  several  other  images  of 
the  same  kind,  which  bring  down  the  Deity  in  a  manner  not 
consonant  to  philosophical  religion,  however  it  may  be  borne 
out  by  the  sensual  analogies  or  mythic  symbolism  of  Oriental 
•writing.2 

31.   We  rarely  meet  with  feeble  lines  in  Paradise  Lost,3 

Elevation     though  with  many  that  are  hard,  and,  in  a  common 

of  his         use  of  the  word,  might  be  called  prosaic.     Yet  few 

are  truly  prosaic ;  few  wherein  the  tone  is  not  some 

1  Quarterly  Review,  June,  1825.  This  done  by  other  poets,  who  do  not  scruple 
article  contains  some  good  and  some  ques-  to  suppose  their  gods,  their  fairies  or 
tionable  remarks  on  Milton :  among  the  devils,  or  their  allegorical  personages,  in- 
latter  I  reckon  the  proposition  that  his  spiring  thoughts,  and  even  uniting  them- 
contempt  for  women  is  shown  in  the  deli-  selves  with  the  soul,  as  well  as  assuming 
neatiou  of  Eve ;  an  opinion  not  that  of  Ad-  all  kinds  of  form,  though  their  natural 
dison  or  of  many  others,  who  have  thought  appearance  is  almost  always  anthropo- 
her  exquisitely  drawn.  morphic.  And,  after  all,  Satan  does  not 

1  Johnson  thinks  that  Milton  should  animate  a  real  toad,  but  takes  the  shape 

have  secured  the  consistency  of  this  poem  of  one.     "  Squat  like  a  toad  close  by  the 

by  keeping  immateriality  out  of  sight,  and  ear  of  Eve."    But  he  does  enter  a  real  ser- 

enticing  his  reader  to  drop  it  from  his  pent,  so  that  the  instance  of  Johnson  is 

thoughts.    But  here  the  subject  forbade  ill  chosen.    If  he  had  mentioned  the  ser 

him    to   preserve  consistency,  if  indeed  pent,  every  one  would  have  seen  that  the 

there  be  inconsistency  in  supposing  a  rapid  identity  of  the  animal  serpent  with  Satan 

assumption  of  form  by  spiritual  beings,  is  part  of  the  original  account. 
For  though   the  instance  that   Johnson        s  One  of  the  few  exceptions  is  in   the 

alleges  of  inconsistency  in  Satan's  animat-  sublime  description    of   Death,   where  a 

Ing   a    toad  was  not  necessary,  yet  his  wretched  hemistich,  "  Fierce  as  ten  fu- 

animation  of  the  serpent  was  absolutely  ries,'"  stands  as  an  unsightly  blemish. 
Indispensable.    And  the  same  has  been 


CHAP.  7.  HIS  BLIXDXESS.  229 

way  distinguished  from  prose.  The  very  artificial  style  of 
Milton,  sparing  in  English  idiom,  and  his  study  of  a  rhythm, 
not  always  the  most  grateful  to  our  ears,  but  preserving  his 
blank  verse  from  a  trivial  flow,  is  the  cause  of  this  elevation. 
It  is  at  least  more  removed  from  a  prosaic  cadence  than  the 
slovenly  rhymes  of  such  contemporary  poets  as  Chamberlayne. 
His  versification  is  entirely  his  own,  framed  on  a  Latin  and 
chiefly  a  Virgilian  model ;  the  pause  less  frequently  resting  on 
the  close  of  the  line  than  in  Homer,  and  much  less  than  in 
our  own  dramatic  poets.  But  it  is  also  possible  that  the  Ita- 
lian and  Spanish  blank  verse  may  have  had  some  effect  upon 
his  ear 

32.  In  the  numerous  imitations,  and  still  more  numerous 
traces,  of  older  poetry  which  we  perceive  in  Paradise   ms  blind- 
Lost,  it  is  always  to  be  kept  in  mind  that  he  had  neas- 
only  his  recollection  to  rely  upon.     His  blindness  seems  to 
have  been  complete  before  1654;   and  I  scarcely  think  that 
he  had  begun  his  poem,  before  the  anxiety  and  trouble  into 
which  the  public  strife  of  the  Commonwealth  and  the  Resto- 
ration had  thrown  him  gave  leisure  for  immortal  occupations. 
Then  the  remembrance  of  early  reading  came  over  his  dark 
and  lonely  path  like  the  moon   emerging  from   the   clouds. 
Then  it  was  that  the  Muse  was  truly  his ;   not  only  as  she 
poured  her  creative  inspiration  into   his   mind,   but   as   the 
daughter  of  Memory,  coming  with  fragments  of  ancient  melo- 
dies, the  voice  of  Euripides  and  Homer  and  Tasso ;   sounds 
that  he  had  loved  in  youth,  and  treasured  up  for  the  solace  of 
his  age.     They  who,  though  not  enduring  the  calamity  of  Mil- 
ton, have  known  what  it  is,  when  afar  from  books,  in  solitude 
or  in  travelling,  or  in  the  intervals  of  worldly  care,  to  feed  on 
poetical  recollections,   to   murmur   over   the   beautiful   lines 
whose  cadence  has  long  delighted  their  ear,  to  recall  the  senti- 
ments and  images  which  retain  by  association  the  charm  that 
early  years  once  gave  them,  —  they  will  feel  the  inestimable 
value  of  committing  to  the  memory,  in  the  prime  of  its  power, 
what  it  will  easily  receive  and  indelibly  retain.     I  know  not 
indeed  whether  an  education  that  deals  much  with   poetry, 
such  as  is  still  usual  in  England,  has  any  more  solid  argument 
among  many  in  its  favor,  than  that  it  lays  the  foundation  of 
intellectual  pleasures  at  the  other  extreme  of  life. 

33.  It  is  owing,  in  part,  to  his  blindness,  but  more  perhaps 
to  his  general  residence  in  a  city,  that  Milton,  in  the  words  of 


230  PARADISE  LOST.  PART  IV 

Coleridge,  is  "not  a  picturesque  but  a  musical  poet;"  or, 
His  passion  as  I  would  prefer  to  say,  is  the  latter  more  of  the  two. 
for  music.  jje  (jescrioes  visible  things,  and  often  with  great 
powers  of  rendering  them  manifest,  what  the  Greeks  called 
tvapyeia,  though  seldom  with  so  much  circumstantial  exactness 
of  observation  as  Spenser  or  Dante ;  but  he  feels  music.  The 
sense  of  vision  delighted  his  imagination ;  but  that  of  sound 
wrapped  his  whole  soul  in  ecstasy.  One  of  his  trifling  faults 
may  be  connected  with  this,  the  excessive  passion  he  displays 
for  stringing  together  sonorous  names,  sometimes  so  obscure 
that  the  reader  associates  nothing  with  them ;  as  the  word 
Namancos  in  Lycidas,  which  long  baffled  the  commentators. 
Hence  his  catalogues,  unlike  those  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  are 
sometimes  merely  ornamental  and  misplaced.  Thus  the  names 
of  unbuilt  cities  come  strangely  forward  in  Adam's  vision,1 
though  he  has  afterwards  gone  over  the  same  ground  with 
better  effect  in  Paradise  Regained.  In  this  there  was  also  a 
mixture  of  his  pedantry.  But,  though  he  was  rather  too 
ostentatious  of  learning,  the  nature  of  his  subject  demanded  a 
good  deal  of  episodical  ornament.  And  this,  rather  than  the 
precedents  he  might  have  alleged  from  the  Italians  and  others, 
Faults  in  *s  perhaps  the  best  apology  for  what  some  grave 
Paradise  critics  have  censured,  his  frequent  allusions  to  fable 
and  mythology.  These  give  much  relief  to  the 
severity  of  the  poem,  and  few  readers  would  dispense  with 
them.  Less  excuse  can  be  made  for  some  affectation  of  sci- 
ence which  has  produced  hard  and  unpleasing  lines ;  but  he 
had  been  born  in  an  age  when  more  credit  was  gained  by  read- 
ing much  than  by  writing  well.  The  faults,  however,  of  Para- 
dise Lost  are  in  general  less  to  be  called  faults  than  necessary 
adjuncts  of  the  qualities  we  most  admire,  and  idiosyncrasies 
of  a  mighty  genius.  The  verse  of  Milton  is  sometimes  want- 
ing in  grace,  and  almost  always  in  ease  ;  but  what  better  can 
be  said  of  his  prose  ?  His  foreign  idioms  are  too  frequent  in 
the  one  ;  but  they  predominate  in  the  other. 

34.  The  slowness  of  Milton's  advance  to  glory  is  now 
its  progress  generally  owned  to  have  been  much  exaggerated : 

fame.  we  might  say  f^  tjie  reverse  was  nearer  the  truth. 
"The  sale  of  1,300  copies  in  two  years,"  says  Johnson,  "in 
opposition  to  so  much  recent  enmity,  and  to  a  style  of  versifi- 
cation new  to  all  and  disgusting  to  many,  was  an  uncommon 

1  Par.  Lost,  ri.  886 


CHAP.  V.  PARADISE  REGAINED.  231 

example  of  the  prevalence  of  genius.  The  demand  did  not 
immediately  increase ;  for  many  more  readers  than  were  sup- 
plied at  first  the  nation  did  not  afford.  Only  3,000  were  sold 
in  eleven  years."  It  would  hardly,  however,  be  said,  even  in 
this  age,  of  a  poem  3,000  copies  of  which  had  been  sold 
in  eleven  years,  that  its  success  had  been  small ;  and  some, 
perhaps,  might  doubt  whether  Paradise  Lost,  published  eleven 
years  since,  would  have  met  with  a  greater  demand.  There 
is  sometimes  a  want  of  congeniality  in  public  taste  which  no 
power  of  genius  will  overcome.  For  Milton  it  must  be  said 
by  every  one  conversant  with  the  literature  of  the  age  that 
preceded  Addison's  famous  criticism,  from  which  some  have 
dated  the  reputation  of  Paradise  Lost,  that  he  took  his  place 
among  great  poets  from  the  beginning.  The  fancy  of  Johnson, 
that  few  dared  to  praise  it,  and  that  "  the  revolution  put  an 
end  to  the  secrecy  of  love,"  is  without  foundation :  the  Go- 
vernment of  Charles  II.  was  not  so  absurdly  tyrannical ;  nor 
did  Dryden,  the  court's  own  poet,  hesitate,  in  his  preface  to 
the  State  of  Innocence,  published  soon  after  Milton's  death, 
to  speak  of  its  original,  Paradise  Lost,  as  "undoubtedly  one 
of  the  greatest,  most  noble,  and  most  sublime  poems  which 
either  this  age  or  nation  has  produced." 

35.  The  neglect  which  Paradise  Lost  never  experienced 
seems  to  have  been  long  the  lot  of  Paradise  Re-  paradise 
gained.  It  was  not  popular  with  the  world :  it  was  Resamed- 
long  believed  to  manifest  a  decay  of  the  poet's  genius ;  and,  in 
spite  of  all  that  the  critics  have  written,  it  is  still  but  the  favo- 
rite of  some  whose  predilections  for  the  Miltonic  style  are 
very  strong.  The  subject  is  so  much  less  capable  of  calling 
forth  the  vast  powers  of  his  mind,  that  we  should  be  unfair  in 
comparing  it  throughout  with  the  greater  poem :  it  has  been 
called  a  model  of  the  shorter  epic,  an  action  comprehending 
few  characters  and  a  brief  space  of  time.1  The  love  of  Milton 
for  dramatic  dialogue,  imbibed  from  Greece,  is  still  more 
apparent  than  in  Paradise  Lost:  the  whole  poem,  in  fact, 
may  almost  be  accounted  a  drama  of  primal  simplicity ;  the 
narrative  and  descriptive  part  serving  rather  to  diversify  and 
relieve  the  speeches  of  the  actors,  than  their  speeches,  as  ir 
the  legitimate  epic,  to  enliven  the  narration.  Paradise  Re 
gained  abounds  with  passages  equal  to  any  of  the  same  nature 
in  Paradise  Lost ;  but  the  argumentative  tone  is  kept  up  till 

1  Xodd's  Milton  vol.  v.  p.  308 


232  SAMSON  AGONISTES.  PART  IV 

it  produces  some  tediousness ;  and  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  less 
pains  have  been  exerted  to  adorn  and  elevate  that  which 
appeals  to  the  imagination. 

36.  Samson  Agonistes  is  the  latest  of  Milton's  poems:  we 
S»mson       see  in  it,  perhaps  more  distinctly  than  in  Paradise 
Agonistes.    Regained,  the  ebb  of  a   mighty  tide.     An   air   of 
•uncommon  grandeur  prevails  throughout ;  but  the  language  is 
less  poetical  than  in  Paradise  Lost:    the  vigor   of  thought 
remains,  but  it  wants  much  of  its  ancient  eloquence.     Nor  is 
the  lyric  tone  well  kept  up  by  the  chorus :  they  are  too  sen- 
tentious, too  slow  in  movement,  and,  except  by  the  metre,  are 
not  easily  distinguishable  from  the  other  personages.       But 
tin's  metre  is  itself  infelicitous ;  the  lines  being  frequently  of 
a  number  of  syllables  not  recognized  in  the  usage  of  English 
poetry,  and,  destitute  of  rhythmical  measure,  fall  into  prose. 
Milton  seems  to  have  forgotten  that  the  ancient  chorus  had  a 
musical  accompaniment. 

37.  The  style  of  Samson,  being  essentially  that  of  Paradise 
Lost,  may  show  us  how  much  more  the  latter  poem  is  founded 
on  the  Greek  tragedians  than   on    Homer.     In   Samson  we 
have  sometimes  the  pompous  tone  of  ^Eschylus,  more  frequent- 
ly the   sustained   majesty  of  Sophocles ;    but   the   religious 
solemnity  of  Milton's  own  temperament,  as  well  as  the  nature 
of  the  subject,  have  given  a  sort  of  breadth,  an   unbroken 
severity,  to  the  whole  drama.     It  is  perhaps  not  very  popular 
even  with  the  lovers  of  poetry ;   yet,  upon  close  comparison, 
we  should  find  that  it  deserves  a  higher  place  than  many  of 
its  prototypes.     We  might  search  the  Greek  tragedies  long 
for  a  character  so  powerfully  conceived  and  maintained  as 
that  of  Samson  himself;    and  it  is  but  conformable  to  the 
sculptural  simplicity  of  that  form   of  drama   which   Milton 
adopted,  that  all  the  rest  should  be  kept  in  subordination  to  it. 
"It  is  only,"  Johnson  says,  "by  a  blind  confidence  in  the  repu- 
tation of  Milton,  that  a  drama  can  be  praised  in  which  the 
intermediate  parts  have  neither  cause  nor  consequence,  nei- 
ther hasten  nor  retard  the  catastrophe."     Such  a  drama   is 
certainly  not  to  be  ranked  with  Othello  and  Macbeth,  or  even 
with  the  QEdipus  or  the  Hippolytus ;   but  a  similar  criticism 
is  applicable  to  several  famous  tragedies  in  the  less  artificial 
school  of  antiquity,  —  to  the  Prometheus  and  the  Persae  of 
.^Eschylus,  and,  if  we  look  strictly,  to  not  a  few  of  the  two 
rther  masters. 


CHAP.  V.      DRYDEN  — ABSALOM  AND  ACHITOPHEL.  233 

38.  The  poetical  genius  of  Dryden  came  slowly  to  perfec- 
tion.    Born  in  1631,  his  first  short  poems,  or,  as  we   D   den. 
might  rather  say,  copies  of  verses,  were  not  written   his  earlier 
till  he  approached  thirty ;  and  though  some  of  his   P°ems- 
dramas,  not  indeed  of  the  best,  belong  to  the  next  period  of 
his  life,  he  had  reached  the  age  of  fifty  before  his  high  rank 
as  a  poet  had  been  confirmed  by  indubitable  proof.     Yet  he 
had  manifested  a  superiority  to  his  immediate  contemporaries : 
his  Astraea  Redux,  on  the  Restoration,  is  well  versified ;  the 
lines  are  seldom  weak ;  the  couplets  have  that  pointed  man- 
ner  which    Cowley   and    Denham  had  taught  the  world  to 
require  ;  they  are  harmonious,  but  not  so  varied  as  the  style 
he  afterwards  adopted.     The  Annus  Mirabilis,  in  1667,  is 
of  a  higher  cast :  it  is  not  so  animated  as  the  later  poetry  of 
Dryden,  because  the  alternate  quatrain,  in  which  he  followed 
Davenant's   Gondibert,  is  hostile  to  animation ;  but  it  is  not 
unfavorable  to  another  excellence,  —  condensed  and  vigorous 
thought.     Davenant  indeed  and  Denham  may  be  reckoned 
the  models  of  Dryden,  so  far  as  this  can  be  said  of  a  man  of 
original  genius,  and  one  far  superior  to  theirs.     The  distin- 
guishing characteristic  of  Dryden,  it  has  been  said  by  Scott, 
was  the  power  of  reasoning,  and  expressing  the  result  in 
appropriate  language.     This  indeed  was  the  characteristic  of 
the  two  whom  we  have  named ;  and  so  far  as  Dryden  has 
displayed  it,  which  he  eminently  has  done,  he  bears  a  resem- 
blance to  them.     But  it  is  insufficient  praise  for  this  great 
poet.     His  rapidity  of  conception  and  readiness  of  expression 
are  higher  qualities.     He  never  loiters  about  a  single  thought 
or  image,  never  labors  about  the  turn  of   a  phrase.     The 
impression  upon  our  minds,  that  he  wrote  with  exceeding  ease, 
is  irresistible  ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  we  have  any  evidence 
to  repel  it.     The  admiration  of  Dryden  gains  upon  us,  if  I 
may  speak  from  my  own  experience,  with  advancing  years,  as 
we  become  more  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  his  style,  and  of 
the  comparative  facility  of  that  which  is  merely  imaginative. 

39.  Dryden  may  be  considered  as  a  satirical,  a  reasoning,  a 
descriptive   and   narrative,    a  lyric  poet,  and  as  a  Alsalom 
translator.     As  a  dramatist  we  must  return   to  him  and 
again.     The  greatest  of  his  satires  is  Absalom  and 
Achitophel,  —  that  work  in  which  his  powers  became  fully 
known  to  the  world,  and  which,  as  many  think,  he  never  sur- 
passed.    The  admirable  fitness  of  the  English  couplet  for 


234  MAC  FLECKNOE.  PART  17. 

satire  had  never  been  shown  before :  in  less  skilful  hands  it 
had  been  ineffective.  He  does  not  frequently,  in  this  poem, 
carry  the  sense  beyond  the  second  line,  which,  except  when 
skilfully  contrived,  as  it  often  is  by  himself,  is  apt  to  enfeeble 
the  emphasis :  his  triplets  are  less  numerous  than  usual,  but 
energetic.  The  spontaneous  ease  of  expression,  the  rapid 
transitions,  the  general  elasticity  and  movement,  have  never 
been  excelled.  It  is  superfluous  to  praise  the  discrimination 
and  vivacity  of  the  chief  characters,  especially  Shaftesbury 
and  Buckingham.  Satire,  however,  is  so  much  easier  than 
panegyric,  that  with  Ormond,  Ossory,  and  Mulgrave  he  has 
not  been  quite  so  successful.  In  the  second  part  of  Absalom 
and  Achitophel,  written  by  Tate,  one  long  passage  alone  is 
inserted  by  Dryden.  It  is  excellent  in  its  line  of  satire,  but 
the  line  is  less  elevated ;  the  persons  delineated  are  less  im- 
portant, and  he  has  indulged  more  his  natural  proneness  to 
virulent  ribaldry.  This  fault  of  Dry  den's  writings,  it  is  just 
to  observe,  belonged  less  to  the  man  than  to  the  age.  No 
libellous  invective,  no  coarseness  of  allusion,  had  ever  been 
spared  towards  a  private  or  political  enemy.  We  read  with 
nothing  but  disgust  the  satirical  poetry  of  Cleveland,  Butler, 
Oldham,  and  Marvell,  or  even  of  men  whose  high  rank  did 
not  soften  their  style,  —  Rochester,  Dorset,  Mulgrave.  In 
Dryden  there  was,  for  the  first  time,  a  poignancy  of  wit  which 
atones  for  his  severity,  and  a  discretion  even  in  his  taunts, 
which  made  them  more  cutting. 

40.  The  Medal,  which  is  in  some  measure  a  continuation 
Mac  Fleck-  of  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  since  it  bears  wholly  on 
Shaftesbury,  is  of  unequal  merit,  and,  on  the  whole, 
falls  much  below  the  former.  In  Mac  Flecknoe,  his  satire  on 
his  rival  Shadwell,  we  must  allow  for  the  inferiority  of  the 
subject,  which  could  not  bring  out  so  much  of  Dryden's  higher 
powers  of  mind ;  but  scarcely  one  of  his  poems  is  more  perfect. 
Johnson,  who  admired  Dryden  almost  as  much  as  he  could 
any  one,  has  yet,  from  his  proneness  to  critical  censure,  very 
much  exaggerated  the  poet's  defects.  "His  faults  of  negli- 
gence are  beyond  recital.  Such  is  the  unevenness  of  his 
compositions,  that  ten  lines  are  seldom  found  together  without 
something  of  which  the  reader  is  ashamed."  This  might  be 
true,  or  more  nearly  true,  of  other  poets  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Ten  good  consecutive  lines  will,  perhaps,  rarely  be 
found,  except  in  Denham,  Davenant,  and  Waller.  But  it 


CHAP.  V.  THE  HIND  AND  PANTHER.  235 

seems  a  great  exaggeration  as  to  Dryden.  I  would  particu- 
larly instance  Mac  Flecknoe  as  a  poem  of  about  four  hundred 
lines,  in  which  no  one  will  be  condemned  as  weak  or  negli- 
gent, though  three  or  four  are  rather  too  ribaldrous  for  our 
taste.  There  are  also  passages,  much  exceeding  ten  lines,  in 
Absalom  and  Achitophel,  as  well  as  in  the  later  works,  the 
Fables,  which  excite  in  the  reader  none  of  the  shame  for 
the  poet's  carelessness  with  which  Johnson  has  furnished 
him. 

41.  The  argumentative  talents  of  Dryden  appear,  more  or 
less,  in  the  greater  part  of  his  poetry :    reason  in  The  ffiad 
rhyme  was  his  peculiar  delight,  to  which  he  seems   and 

to  escape  from  the  mere  excursions  of  fancy.  And 
it  is  remarkable  that  he  reasons  better  and  more  closely  in 
poetry  than  in  prose.  His  productions  more  exclusively  rea- 
soning are  the  Religio  Laici,  and  the  Hind  and  Panther.  The 
latter  is  every  way  an  extraordinary  poem.  It  was  written 
in  the  hey-day  of  exultation,  by  a  recent  proselyte  to  a  winning 
side  as  he  dreamed  it  to  be,  by  one  who  never  spared  a  weaker 
foe,  nor  repressed  his  triumph  with  a  dignified  moderation. 
A  year  was  hardly  to  elapse  before  he  exchanged  this  fulness 
of  pride  for  an  old  age  of  disappointment  and  poverty.  Yet 
then,  too,  his  genius  was  unquenched,  and  even  his  satire  was 
not  less  severe. 

42.  The  first  lines  in  the  Hind  and   Panther  are  justly 
reputed  among  the  most  musical  in  our  language;  its  singular 
and  perhaps  we    observe   their  rhythm   the    better  fable- 
because  it  does  not  gain  much  by  the  sense  :  for  the  allegory 
and  the  fable  are  seen,  even  in  this  commencement,  to  be  awk- 
wardly   blended.     Yet   notwithstanding   their   evident   inco- 
herence, which  sometimes  leads  to  the  verge  of  absurdity,  and 
the  facility  they  give  to  ridicule,  I  am  not  sure  that  Dryden 
was  wrong  in  choosing  this  singular  fiction.     It  was  his  aim  to" 
bring  forward  an  old  argument   in  as   novel  a   style  as  he 
could :  a  dialogue  between  a  priest  and  a  parson  would  have 
made  but  a  dull  poem,  even  if  it  had  contained  some  of  the 
excellent  paragraphs  we  read  in  the  Hind  and  Panther.     It 
is  the  grotesqueness  and  originality  of  the  fable  that  give  this 
poem    its  peculiar   zest,  of  which   no   reader,  I  conceive,  is 
insensible ;  and  it  is  also  by  this  means  that  Dryden  has  con- 
trived to  relieve  his  reasoning  by  short  but  beautiful  touches 
of  description,  such  as  the  sudden  stream  of  light  from  heaven 


236  FABLES  OF  DRYDEN  PAET  IV. 

which  announces  the  victory  of  Sedgmoor  near  the  end  of  the 
second  book.1 

43.  The  wit  in  the  Hind  and  Panther  is  sharp,  ready,  and 
its  reason-  pleasant ;  the  reasoning  is  sometimes  admirably  close 
k*-  and  strong ;  it  is  the  energy  of  Bossuet  in  verse.     I 
do  not  know  that  the  main  argument  of  the  Roman  Church 
could  be  better  stated :   all  that  has  been  well  said  for  tra- 
dition and  authority,  all  that  serves  to  expose  the  inconsist- 
encies of  a  vacillating  Protestantism,  is  in  the  Hind's  mouth. 
It  is  such  an  answer  as  a  candid  man  should  admit  to  any 
doubts  of  Dryden's  sincerity.     He  who  could  argue  as  power- 
fully as  the  Hind  may  well  be  allowed  to  have  thought  him- 
self in  the  right.     Yet  he  could  not  forget  a  few  bold  thoughts 
of  his  more  sceptical  days ;  and  such  is  his  bias  to  sarcasm, 
that  he  cannot  restrain  himself  from  reflections  on  kings  and 
priests  when  he  is  most  contending  for  them.2 

44.  The  Fables  of  Dryden,   or  stories   modernized   from 

Boccaccio  and  Chaucer,  are  at  this  day  probably  the 
most  read  and  the  most  popular  of  Dryden's  poems. 
They  contain  passages  of  so  much  more  impressive  beauty,  and 
are  altogether  so  far  more  adapted  to  general  sympathy,  than 
those  we  have  mentioned,  that  I  should  not  hesitate  to 
concur  in  this  judgment.  Yet  Johnson's  accusation  of  negli- 
gence is  better  supported  by  these  than  by  the  earlier  poems. 
Whether  it  were  that  age  and  misfortune,  though  they  had  not 
impaired  the  poet's  vigor,  had  rendered  its  continual  exertion 
more  wearisome,  or,  as  is  perhaps  the  better  supposition, 
he  reckoned  an  easy  style,  sustained  above  prose,  in  some 
places,  rather  by  metre  than  expression,  more  fitted  to  narra- 
tion, we  find  much  which  might  appear  slovenly  to  critics  of 
Johnson's  temper.  The  latter  seems,  in  fact,  to  have  con- 
ceived, like  Milton,  a  theory,  that  good  writing,  at  least  in 
verse,  is  never  either  to  follow  the  change  of  fashion,  or  to 
sink  into  familiar  phrase ;  and  that  any  deviation  from  this 
rigor  should  be  branded  as  low  and  colloquial.  But  Dryden 
wrote  on  a  different  plan.  He  thought,  like  Ariosto,  and 
like  Chaucer  himself,  whom  he  had  to  improve,  that  a  story, 

1    [I  am  indebted  to  a    distinguished  The  priest  continues  what  the  nurse  be- 
friend for  the  explanation  of  this  line,  gan, 

which  I  had  misunderstood.  — 1863.]  And    thus    the   child  imposes  on   the 

1  "By  education  most  have  been  misled;  man." — Part  iii. 

So  they  believe  because  they  so  were  "  Call  you  this  backing  of  your  friends  ?  " 

bred  his  new  allies  might  have  said 


CHAP.  V.  ALEXANDER'S  FEAST  -  VIRGIL.  237 

especially  when  not  heroic,  should  be  told  in  easy  and  flowing 
language,  without  too  much  difference  from  that  of  prose ;  rely- 
ing ou  his  harmony,  his  occasional  inversions,  and  his  concealed 
skill  in  the  choice  of  words,  for  its  effect  on  the  reader.  He 
found  also  a  tone  of  popular  idiom,  not  perhaps  old  English 
idiom,  but  such  as  had  crept  into  society,  current  among  his 
contemporaries  ;  aud  though  this  has  in  many  cases  now  be- 
come insufferably  vulgar,  and  in  others  looks  like  affectatiou, 
we  should  make  some  allowance  for  the  times  in  condemning 
it.  This  last  blemish,  however,  is  not  much  imputable  to  the 
Fables.  Their  beauties  are  innumerable ;  yet  few  are  very 
well  chosen :  some,  as  Guiscard  and  Sigismunda,  he  has  injured 
through  coarseness  of  mind,  which  neither  years  nor  religion 
had  purified ;  and  we  want  in  all  the  power  over  emotion,  the 
charm  of  sympathy,  the  skilful  arrangement  and  selection  of 
circumstance,  which  narrative  poetry  claims  as  its  highest 
graces. 

45.  Dryden's  fame  as  a  lyric  poet  depends  a  very  little  on 
his  Ode  on  Mrs.  Killigrew's  death,  but  almost  entire-  mg  Odeg . 
ly  on  that  for  St.   Cecilia's  Day,  commonly  called  Alexander* 
Alexander's    Feast.      The   former,  which   is   much 
praised  by  Johnson,  has  a  few  fine  lines,  mingled  with  a  far 
greater  number  ill  conceived  and  ill  expressed:   the  whole 
composition  has  that  spirit  which  Dryden  hardly  ever  wanted 
but  it  is  too  faulty  for  high  praise.     The  latter  used  to  pass 
for  the  best  work  of  Dryden,  and  the  best  ode  in  the  language. 
Many  would  now  agree  with  me,  that  it  is  neither  one  nor  the 
other,  and  that  it  was  rather  overrated  during  a  period  when 
criticism  was  not  at  a  high  point.     Its  beauties,  indeed,  are 
undeniable ;  it  has  the  raciness,  the  rapidity,  the  mastery  of 
language,  which  belong  to  Dryden ;    the  transitions  are  ani- 
mated, the  contrasts  effective.     But  few  lines  are  highly  poeti- 
cal, and  some  sink  to  the  level  of  a  common  drinking  song. 
It  has  the  defects  as  well  as  the  merits  of  that  poetry  which 
is  written  for  musical  accompaniment. 

46.  Of  Dryden  as  a  translator,  it  is  needless  to  say  much. 
In  some  instances,  as  in  an  ode  of  Horace,  he  has   ^  tranft. 
done  extremely  well ;   but  his  Virgil  is,  in  my  ap-   M0?  °f 
prehension,  the  least  successful  of  his  chief  works. 

Liues  of  consummate  excellence  are  frequently  shot,  like 
threads  of  gold,  through  the  web ;  but  the  general  texture  is 
of  an  ordinary  material.  Dryden  was  little  fitted  for  a  trans- 


238  MINOR  POETS.  PART  TV. 

lator  of  Yirgil :  his  mind  was  more  rapid  and  vehement  than 
that  of  his  original,  but  by  far  less  elegant  and  judicious. 
This  translation  seems  to  have  been  made  in  haste  :  it  is  more 
negligent  than  any  of  his  own  poetry ;  and  the  style  is  often 
almost  studiously,  and,  as  it  were,  spitefully  vulgar. 

47.  The  supremacy  of  Drydeu  from  the  death  of  Milton  in 
Decline  of  1674  to  his  own  in  1700  was  not  only  unapproached 
P°*tryh  by  any  English  poet,  but  he  held  almost  a  complete 
Kestora-  monopoly  of  English  poetry.  This  latter  period  of 
tion-  the  seventeenth  century,  setting  aside  these  t\»o 

great  names,  is  one  remarkably  sterile  in  poetical  genius. 
Under  the  first  Stuarts,  men  of  warm  imagination  and  sensi- 
bility, though  with  deficient  taste  and  little  command  of  lan- 
guage, had  done  some  honor  to  our  literature  :  though  once 
neglected,  they  have  come  forward  again  in  public  esteem ; 
and,  if  not  very  extensively  read,  have  been  valued  by  men  of 
kindred  minds  full  as  much  as  they  deserve.  The  versifiers 
of  Charles  II.  and  William's  days  have  experienced  the  oppo- 
site fate :  popular  for  a  time,  and  long  so  far  known,  at  least 
by  name,  as  to  have  entered  rather  largely  into  collections  of 
poetry,  they  are  now  held  in  no  regard,  nor  do  they  claim 
much  favor  from  just  criticism.  Their  object  in  general  was 
to  write  like  men  of  the  world,  —  with  ease,  wit,  sense,  and 
spirit,  but  dreading  any  soaring  of  fancy,  any  ardor  of  moral 
emotion,  as  the  probable  source  of  ridicule  in  their  readei-s. 
Nothing  quenches  the  flame  of  poetry  more  than  this  fear  of 
the  prosaic  multitude,  —  unless  it  is  the  community  of  habits 
with  this  very  multitude,  a  life  such  as  these  poets  generally 
led,  of  taverns  and  brothels,  or,  what  came  much  to  the  same, 
of  the  court.  We  cannot  say  of  Dryden,  that  "  he  bears  no 
traces  of  those  sable  streams;"  they  sully  too  much  the 
plumage  of  that  stately  swan :  but  his  indomitable  genius  car- 
ries him  upwards  to  a  purer  empyrean.  The  rest  are  just 
distinguishable  from  one  another,  not  by  any  high  gifts  of  the 
muse,  but  by  degrees  of  spirit,  of  ease,  of  poignancy,  of  skill 
and  harmony  in  versification,  of  good  sense  and  acutenc>s. 
They  may  easily  be  disposed  of.  Cleveland  is  sometimes 
humorous,  but  succeeds  only  in  the  lightest  kinds  of  poetry. 
Some  minor  Marvell  wrote  sometimes  with  more  taste  and  feeling 
poets  enu-  than  was  usual ;  but  his  satires  are  gross  and  stupid. 

merated.        /-.,  ,,  /.  . 

Ulunam,  tar  superior  in  this  respect,  ranks  perhaps 
next  to  Dryden :  he  is  spirited  and  pointed ;  but  his  versifica- 


CHAP.  V.  GAKTH'S  DISPEXSAEY.  239 

tion  is  too  negligent,  and  his  subjects  temporary.  Roscom- 
mon,  one  of  the  best  for  harmony  and  correctness  of  language, 
has  little  vigor,  but  he  never  offends ;  and  Pope  has  justly 
praised  his  "  unspotted  bays."  Mulgrave  aifects  ease  and 
spirit ;  but  his  Essay  on  Satire  belies  the  supposition  that 
Dryden  had  any  share  in  it.  Rochester,  endowed  by  nature 
with  more  considerable  and  varied  genius,  might  have  raised 
himself  to  a  higher  place  than  he  holds.  Of  Otway,  Duke, 
and  several  more,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  give  any  character. 
The  Revolution  did  nothing  for  poetry.  William's  reign, 
always  excepting  Dryden,  is  our  nadir  in  works  of  imagina- 
tion. Then  came  Blackmore  with  his  epic  poems  of  Prince 
Arthur  and  King  Arthur,  and  Pomfret  with  his  Choice,  both 
popular  in  their  own  age,  and  both  intolerable,  by  their  frigid 
and  tame  monotony,  in  the  next.  The  lighter  poetry,  mean- 
time, of  song  and  epigram,  did  not  sink  along  with  the  serious : 
the  state  of  society  was  much  less  adverse  to  it.  Rochester, 
Dorset,  and  some  more  whose  names  are  unknown  or  not 
easily  traced,  do  credit  to  the  Caroline  period. 

48.  In  the  year  1699,  a  poem  was  published,  Garth's  Dis- 
pensary, which  deserves  attention,  not  so  much  for  its  own 
merit,  though  it  comes  nearest  to  Dryden,  at  whatever  inter- 
val, as  from  its  indicating  a  transitional  state  in  our  versifi- 
cation. The  general  structure  of  the  couplet  through  the 
seventeenth  century  may  be  called  abnormous :  the  sense  is 
not  only  often  carried  beyond  the  second  line,  which  the 
French  avoid,  but  the  second  line  of  one  couplet  and  the  first 
of  the  next  are  not  seldom  united  in  a  single  sentence  or  a 
portion  of  one  ;  so  that  the  two,  though  not  rhyming,  must  be 
read  as  a  couplet.  The  former,  when  as  dexterously  managed 
as  it  was  by  Dryden,  adds  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  general 
versification ;  but  the  latter,  a  sort  of  adultery  of  the  lines 
already  wedded  to  other  companions  at  rhyme's  altar,  can 
scarcely  ever  be  pleasing,  unless  it  be  in  narrative  poetry, 
where  it  may  bring  the  sound  nearer  to  prose.  A  tendency, 
however,  to  the  French  rule,  of  constantly  terminating  the 
sense  with  the  couplet,  will  be  perceived  to  have  increased 
from  the  Restoration.  Roscommon  seldom  deviates  from  it ; 
and,  in  long  passages  of  Dryden  himself,  there  will  hardly  be 
found  an  exception.  But  perhaps  it  had  not  been  so  uniform 
in  any  former  production  as  in  the  Dispensary.  The  versifi- 
cation of  this  once-famous  mock-heroic  poem  is  smooth  and 


240  LATIN  POETS  OF  ITALY  — CEVA.  PART  IV. 

regular,  but  not  forcible ;  tlie  language  clear  and  neat ;  the 
parodies  and  allusions  happy.  Many  lines  are  excellent  in 
the  way  of  pointed  application  ;  and  some  are  remembered  and 
quoted,  where  few  call  to  mind  the  author.  It  has  been 
remarked,  that  Garth  enlarged  and  altered  the  Dispensary  in 
almost  every  edition ;  and,  what  is  more  uncommon,  that  every 
alteration  was  for  the  better.  This  poem  may  be  called  an 
imitation  of  the  Lutrin,  inasmuch  as,  but  for  the  Lutrin,  it 
might  probably  not  have  been  written ;  and  there  are  even 
particular  resemblances.  The  subject,  which  is  a  quarrel 
between  the  physicians  and  apothecaries  of  London,  may  vie 
with  that  of  Boileau  in  want  of  general  interest ;  yet  it  seems 
to  afford  more  diversity  to  the  satirical  poet.  Garth,  as  has 
been  observed,  is  a  link  of  transition  between  the  style  and 
turn  of  poetry  under  Charles  and  William,  and  that  we  find 
in  Addison,  Prior,  Tickell,  and  Pope,  during  the  reign  of 
Anne. 


SECT.  IV.  —  ON  LATIN  POETRY. 

49.  THE  Jesuits  were  not  unmindful  of  the  credit  their 
Latin  poets  Latin  verses  had  done  them  in  periods  more  favora- 
of  Italy.  jjie  t0  tnat  exercige  Of  taste  than  the  present.  Even 
in  Italy,  which  had  ceased  to  be  a  very  genial  soil,  one  of 

0^  their  number,  Ceva,  may  deserve  mention.  His 
Jesus  Puer  is  a  long  poem,  not  inelegantly  written, 
but  rather  singular  in  some  of  its  descriptions,  where  the  poet 
has  been  more  solicitous  to  adorn  his  subject  than  attentive  to 
its  proper  character ;  and  the  same  objection  might  be  made 
to  some  of  its  episodes.  Ceva  wrote  also  a  philosophical  poem, 
extolled  by  Corniani,  but  which  has  not  fallen  into  my  hands.* 
Averani,  a  Florentine  of  various  erudition,  Cappellari,  Stroz- 
zi,  author  of  a  poem  on  chocolate,  and  several  others,  both 
within  the  order  of  Loyola  and  without  it,  cultivated  Latin 
poetry  with  some  success.2  But,  though  some  might  be  supe- 

Sergardi.  r*or  ^  P06^  none  were  more  remarkable  or  famous 

than  Sergardi,  best  known  by  some  biting  satires 

under  the  name  of  Q.  Sectanus,  which  he  levelled  at  his  per- 

i  Corniani.  viii.  214;  Salfl,  riv.  257. 

*  Bibl.  Choisie,  vol.  xxii. ;  Salfl,  xiv.  238,  etpost. 


CHAP.  V.        LATIN  POETS  OF  FRANCE— MENAGE.  241 

sonal  enemy,  Gravina.  The  reputation,  indeed,  of  Gravina 
with  posterity  has  not  been  affected  by  such  libels  ;  but  they 
are  not  wanting  either  in  poignancy  and  spirit,  or  in  a  com- 
mand of  Latin  phrase.1 

50.  The  superiority  of  France  in  Latin  verse  was  no  longer 
contested  by  Holland  or  Germany.     Several  poets  of  France: 
of  real  merit  belong  to  this  period.     The  first   in   Quillet- 
time  was  Claude  Quillet,  who,  in  his  Callipaedia,  bears  the 
Latinized  name  of  Leti.     This  is  written  with  much  elegance 
of  style  and  a  very  harmonious  versification.     No  writer  has 
a  more  Virgilian  cadence.     Though  inferior  to  Sammartha- 
nus,  he  may  be  reckoned  high  among  the  French  poets.     He 
has  been  reproached  with  too  open  an  exposition   of  some 
parts  of  his  subject ;  which  applies  only  to  the  second  book. 

51.  The  Latin  poems  of  Menage  are  not  unpleasing:   he 
has  indeed  no  great  fire  or  originality ;  but  the  har- 
monious  couplets  glide  over  the  ear,  and  the  mind  is 
pleased  to  recognize  the  tessellated  fragments  of  Ovid  and 
Tibullus.     His  affected  passion  for  Mademoiselle  Lavergne, 
and  lamentations  about  her   cruelty,  are   ludicrous   enough, 
when  we  consider  the  character  of  the  man,  as  Vadius  in  the 
Femmes  Savantes  of  Moliere.     They  are  perfect  models  of 
want  of  truth ;  but  it  is  a  want  of  truth  to  nature,  not  to  the 
conventional  forms  of  modern  Latin  verse. 

52.  A  far  superior  performance  is  the  poem  on  gardens  by 
the  Jesuit  Rene  Rapin.     For  skill  in  varying  and  Rapin  on 
adorning  his  subject,  for  a  truly  Virgilian  spirit  in  sardens- 
expression,  for  the  exclusion  of  feeble,  prosaic,  or  awkward 
lines,  he  may  perhaps  be  equal  to  any  poet,  to  Sammarthanus, 
or  to  Sannazarius  himself.     His  cadences  are  generally  very 
gratifying  to  the  ear ;  and,  in  this  respect,  he  is  much  above 
Vida.1*      But  his  subject,  or  his  genius,  has   prevented  him 
from  rising  very  high  :   he  is  the  poet  of  gardens ;   and  what 

1  Salfi,  xiv.  299 ;  Corniani,  viii.  280.  Is  mihi  contingat  vestro  de  munere  ramus, 

2  As  the  poein  of  Rapin  is  not  in  the    Uncle  sacri  quanclo  velant  sua  tempora 
hands  of  every  one  who  has  taste  for  Latin  vates, 

poetry,  I  will  give  as  a  specimen  the  in-  Ipse  et  amem  meritam  capita  imposuisse 

troduction  to  the  second  book :  —  coronam. 

"Me  nemora  atque  omnls  nemorum  pui-  Jam  se  cantanti  frondosa  cacumina  quer 

cherrinius  ordo, 

Ef.spatia  umbrandum  late  fundanda  per  Inclmant,  plauduntque  comis  nemora  alta 

hortum  coruscis. 

Invitant;   hortis  nam  si  florentibus  urn-  ^  mlhl  lseto  fi*mitu,  assensuque  so- 

bra  cundo 

Abfuerit  reliquo  deerit  sua  gratia  ruri.  g  totis  PJausum  responsat  Gallia  silvis. 

Vos  grandes  luci  et  silvse  aspirate  ca-  Neo  me  demde  suo  teneat  clamore  Clth»- 

nenti ;  ^^ 

VOI»  IV.  16 


242  LATIN  POETS  OF  FRANCE  —  RAPIN.          PART  IV 

gardens  are  to  nature,  that  is  he  to  mightier  poets.  There  is 
also  too  monotonous  a  repetition  of  nearly  the  same  images, 
as  in  his  long  enumeration  of  flowers  in  the  first  book :  the 
descriptions  are  separately  good,  and  great  artifice  is  shown 
in  varying  them ;  but  the  variety  could  not  be  sufficient  to 
remove  the  general  sameness  that  belongs  to  an  horticultural 
catalogue.  Rapin  was  a  great  admirer  of  box  and  all  topiary 
works,  or  trees  cut  into  artificial  forms. 

53.  The  first  book  of  the  Gardens  of  Rapin  is  on  flowers, 
the  second  on  trees,  the  third  on  waters,  and  the  fourth  on 
fruits.      The  poem  is  of  about  3,000   lines,   sustained  with 
equable  dignity.     All  kinds  of  graceful  associations  are  min- 
gled with  the  description  of  his  flowers,  in  the  fanciful  style 
of  Ovid  and  Darwin :  the  violet  is  lanthis,  who  lurked  in  val- 
leys to  shun  the  love  of  Apollo,  and  stained  her  face  with 
purple  to  preserve  her  chastity ;  the  rose  is  Rhodanthe,  proud 
of  her  beauty,  and  worshipped  by  the  people  in  the  place  of 
Diana,  but  changed  by  the  indignant  Apollo  to  a  tree ;  while 
the  populace,  who  had  adored  her,  are  converted  into  her 
thorns ;  and  her  chief  lovers,  into  snails  and  butterflies.     A 
tendency  to  conceit  is  perceived  in  Rapin,  as  in  the  two  poets 
to  whom  we  have  just  compared  him.     Thus,  in  some  pretty 
lines,  he  supposes  Nature  to  have  "tried  her  'prentice  hand»" 
in  making  a  convolvulus  before  she  ventured  upon  a  lily.1 

54.  In  Rapin  there  will  generally  be  remarked  a  certain 
redundancy,  which  fastidious  critics  might  call  tautology  of 
expression.     But  this  is  not  uncommon  in  Virgil.     The  Geor- 
gics  have  rarely  been  more  happily  imitated,  especially  in 
their  didactic  parts,  than  by  Rapin  in  the  Gardens :  but  he 
has  not  the  high  flights  of  his  prototype ;  his  digressions  are 
short,  and  belong  closely  to  the  subject ;  we  have  no  plague, 
no  civil  war,  no  Eurydice.     If  he  praises  Louis  XIV.,  it  is 
more  as  the  founder  of  the  Garden  of  Versailles  than  as  the 
conqueror  of  Flanders ;  though  his  concluding  lines  emulate, 

Msenalaque  Arcadicis  toties  lustrata  dea-  One  or  two  words  in  these  lines  are  not 

bus,  strictly  correct ;    but  they  are  highly  A'ir- 

Non  Dodonsei  naltus,  silvseque  Molorchi,  gilian,  both  in  manner  and  rhythm. 

Aut  nigris  late  ilicibus  nemprosa  Calvdne,  i  «  Et  tu  rumpis  humum  et  multo  te  flore 

*.t  quos  canninibus  celebravit  Cihulu  lucos :  profundis 

Una  meos  cantus  tellus  jam  Franca  more-  Qui  ^guag  iu^T  ^ia,  convolvule,  Talles  , 

Duke  rudimeutum  meditantis  lilia  quon- 
Quw  tot  nobilibus  passim  Itctissima  silvis,  fo^ 

Com-picienda™  late  miracula  ruris  Nature,  cum  sese  opera  ad  majors  paw 

Ostendit,  lucigque  solum  commendat  amoe-  _*  » 

nis  " 


CHAP.  V.  LATIN  POETRY  IN  ENGLAND.  243 

with  no  unworthy  spirit,  those  of  the  last  Georgic.1  It  may 
be  added,  that  some  French  critics  have  thought  the  famous 
poem  of  Delille  on  the  same  subject  inferior  to  that  of  Rapin. 

55.  Santeul  (or  Santolius)  has  been  reckoned  one  of  the 
best  Latin  poets  whom  France  ever  produced.     He   0 

i  i  f  T       •  i     i        Santeul. 

began  by  celebrating  the  victories  ot  Louis  and  the 
virtues  of  contemporary  heroes.  A  nobleness  of  thought  and 
a  splendor  of  language  distinguish  the  poetry  of  Santeul,  who 
furnished  many  inscriptions  for  public  monuments.  The 
hymns  which  he  afterwards  wrote  for  the  breviary  of  the 
Church  of  Paris  have  been  still  more  admired;  and,  at  the 
request  of  others,  he  enlarged  his  collection  of  sacred  verse. 
But  I  have  not  read  the  poetry  of  Santeul,  and  give  only  the 
testimony  of  French  critics.2 

56.  England  might  justly  boast,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
century,  her  Milton ;  nay,  I  do  not  know,  that  with  j^^ 
the  exception   of  a  well-known  and  very  pleasing  poetry  in 
poem,  though  perhaps  hardly  of  classical  simplicity,     ngan 
by  Cowley  on  himself, —  Epitaphium  Vivi  Auctoris,  —  we  can 
produce  any  thing  equally  good  in  this  period.      The  Latin 
verse  of  Barrow  is  forcible  and  full  of  mind,  but  not  sufficient- 
ly redolent  of  antiquity.3     Yet  versification  became,  about  the 
time  of  the  Restoration,  if  not  the  distinctive  study,  at  least 
the  favorite  exercise,  of  the  University  of  Oxford.     The  col 
lection  entitled  Musae  Anglicanae,  published  near  the  end  of 
the  century,  contains  little  from  any  other  quarter.      Many 
of  these  poems  relate  to  the  political  themes  of  the  day,  and 
eulogize  the  reigning  king,  —  Charles,  James,   or  William ; 
others  are  on  philosophical  subjects,  which  they  endeavor  to 
decorate  with  classical  phrase.     Their  character  does  not,  on 
the  whole,    pass    mediocrity:    they  are   often    incorrect   and 
somewhat  turgid,  but  occasionally  display  a  certain  felicity  in 
adapting  ancient  lines  to  their  subject,  and  some  liveliness  of 
invention.     The  golden  age  of  Latin  verse  in  England  was 
yet  to  come. 

1  "  Haec  magni  insistens  vestigia  sacra  Ma-        *  The  following  stanzas  on  an  erring  cou 

ronis,  science  will  sufficiently  prove  this :  — 

Re  super  hortensi.Claro  demon  te  canebam.  K™  ...      -.,     .  . 

Lutetia  in  magna;   quo  tempore  Jb'rancica  j  fi?*?116      ^'i 'P  '^"iikim' 

tX'llllS  c.  ,         \    , 

R3ge  beata  suo,  rebusque  superba  secun-  ^S'S&tto^tt, 

"*"•  ""a  oe'r  nomilos  late  dare  iura  vol     te       Assensus  errans,  invalidse  potens 

Mentis  propago,  quam  vetuit  Deus 

'      ,    ,.       *  Nasei,  sed  ortaa  principntmn 

Bulk* ;  Biogr.  Universelle.  Attribuit,  regunenque  sanctum,"  tw 


244  RACINE.  PABT  IV. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HISTORY  OF  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE  PROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Racine  —  Minor  French  Tragedians  —  Moliere  —  Regnard,  and  other  Comic  Writer* 

1.  FEW  tragedies  or  dramatic  works  of  any  kind  are  now 
Italian  and  rec°rded  by  historians  of  Italian  literature :   those 
Spanish      of  Delfino,  afterwards  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,  which 

ma"  are  esteemed  among  the  best,  were  possibly  written 
before  the  middle  of  the  century,  and  were  not  published  till 
after  its  termination.  The  Corradino  of  Caraccio,  in  1694, 
was  also  valued  at  the  time.1  Nor  can  Spain  arrest  us 
longer:  the  school  of  Calderon  in  national  comedy  extended 
no  doubt  beyond  the  death  of  Philip  IV.  in  1665,  and  many 
of  his  own  religious  pieces  are  of  as  late  a  date :  nor  were 
names  wholly  wanting,  which  are  said  to  merit  remembrance, 
in  the  feeble  reign  of  Charles  II. ;  but  they  must  be  left  for 
such  as  make  a  particular  study  of  Spanish  literature.2  We 
are  called  to  a  nobler  stage. 

2.  Corneille  belongs  in  his  glory  to  the  earlier  period  of 
Racine's      ^is  century ;    though   his   inferior  tragedies,   more 
first  numerous   than   the   better;  would   fall   within    the 

es'  later.  Fontenelle,  indeed,  as  a  devoted  admirer, 
attributes  considerable  merit  to  those  which  the  general  voice 
both  of  critics  and  of  the  public  had  condemned.3  Meantime, 
another  luminary  arose  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  horizon. 
The  first  tragedy  of  Jean  Racine,  Les  Freres  Ennemis,  was 

1  Walker's  Memoir  on  Italian  Tragedy,  de  Fontenelle,  iii.  111.    St.  Evremond  also 

p.  201 ;  Salfi.  xii.  57  despised  the  French  public  for  not  admir- 

*  Boutcrwek  ing  the  Sophonisbe  of  Corneille,  which  ha 

•  Hist,  du  Theatre  Francois,  in  (Euyres  had  made  too  KOJUUU  for  their  taste. 


CHAP.  VI.  RACINE  -  AXDROAIAQUE.  245 

represented  in  1664,  when  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age 
It  is  so  far  below  his  great  works  as  to  be  scarcely  mentioned, 
yet  does  not  want  indications  of  the  genius  they  were  to  dis- 
play. Alexandre,  in  1665,  raised  the  young  poet  to  more 
distinction.  It  is  said  that  he  showed  this  tragedy  to  Cor- 
neille,  who  praised  his  versification,  but  advised  him  to  avoid 
a  path  which  he  was  not  fitted  to  tread.  It  is  acknowledged 
by  the  advocates  of  Racine,  that  the  characters  are  feebly 
drawn,  and  that  the  conqueror  of  Asia  sinks  to  the  level  of  a 
hero  in  one  of  those  romances  of  gallantry  which  had  vitiated 
the  taste  of  France. 

3.  The  glory  of  Racine  commenced  with  the  representation 
of  his  Andromaque  in  1667,  which  was  not  printed   Andro- 
till  the  end  of  the  following  year.     He  was  now  at  ma<iue- 
once  compared  with  Corneille,  and  the  scales  long  continued 
to  oscillate.      Criticism,  satire,  epigrams,  were  unsparingly 
launched  against  the  rising  poet.     But  his  rival  pursued  the 
worst  policy  by  obstinately  writing  bad  tragedies.    The  public 
naturally  compare  the  present  with  the  present,  and  forget  the 
past.     When  he  gave  them  Pertharite,  they  were  dispensed 
from  looking  back  to  Cinna.     It  is  acknowledged  even  by 
Fontenelle,  that,  during   the  height   of   Racine's   fame,  the 
world  placed  him  at  least  on  an  equality  with  his  predecessor ; 
a  decision  from  which  that  critic,  the  relation  and  friend  of 
Corneille,  appeals  to  what  he  takes  to  be  the  verdict  of  a  later 
age. 

4.  The  Andromaque  was  sufficient  to  show,  that  Racine  had 
more  skill  in  the  management  of  a  plot,  in  the  display  of 
emotion,  in  power  over  the  sympathy  of  the  spectator,  at 
least  where  the  gentler  feelings  are  concerned,  in  beauty  and 
grace  of  style,  in  all  except  nobleness  of  character,  strength 
of  thought,  and  impetuosity  of  language.     He  took  his  fable 
from  Euripides,  but  changed  it  according  to  the  requisitions 
of  the  French  theatre    and  of  French  manners.     Some  of 
these  changes  are  for  the  better,  as  the  substitution  of  Asty 
anax   for    an   unknown   Molossus  of  the    Greek   tragedian, 
the  supposed  son  of  Andromache  by  Pyrrhus.     "  Most  of 
those,"  says   Racine  himself  very  justly,  "  who  have  heard 
of  Andromache,  know  her  only  as  the  widow  of  Hector  and 
the  mother  of  A?tyanax.     They  cannot  reconcile  themselves 
to  her  loving  another  husband  and  another  son."     And  he  has 
finely  improved  this  happy  idea  of  preserving  Astyanax,  by 


946  RACINE— BRITANNICUS.  PART  IV 

f 

making  the  Greeks,  jealous  of  his  name,  send  an  embassy 
by  Orestes  to  demand  his  life ;  at  once  deepening  the  interest 
and  developing  the  plot. 

5.  The  female  characters,  Andromache  and  Hermione,  are 
drawn  with  all  Racine's  delicate  perception  of  ideal  beauty : 
the  one,  indeed,  prepared  for  his  hand  by  those  great  mastera 
in  whose  school  he  had  disciplined  his  own  gifts  of  nature, — 
Homer,  Euripides,  Virgil ;  the  other  more  original  and  more 
full  of  dramatic  effect.     It  was,  as  we  are  told,  the  fine  acting 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Champmele  in  this  part,  generally  reck- 
oned one  of  the  most  difficult  on  the  French  stage,  which 
secured  the  success  of  the  play.     Racine,  after  the  first  repre- 
sentation, threw  himself  at  her  feet  in  a  transport  of  grati- 
tude, which  was  soon  changed  to  love.     It  is  more  easy  to 
censure   some   of  the  other   characters.      Pyrrhus   is   bold, 
haughty,  passionate,  the  true  son  of  Achilles,  except  where 
he  appears  as  the  lover  of  Andromache.     It  is  inconceivable 
and  truly  ridiculous,  that  a  Greek  of  the  heroic  age,  and  such 
a  Greek  as  Pyrrhus  is  represented  by  those  whose  imagina- 
tion has  given  him  existence,  should  feel  the  respectful  passion 
towards  his  captive  which  we  might  reasonably  expect  in  the 
romances  of  chivalry,  or  should  express  it  in  the  tone  of 
conventional  gallantry  that  suited   the   court  of  Versailles. 
But  Orestes  is  far  worse :  love-mad,  and  yet  talking  in  gallant 
conceits,  cold  and  polite,  he  discredits  the  poet,  the  tragedy, 
and  the  son  of  Agamemnon  himself.     It  is  better  to  kill  one's 
mother  than  to  utter  such  trash.     In  hinting  that  the  previous 
madness  of  Orestes  was  for  the  love  of  Hermione,  Racine 
has  presumed  too  much  on  the  ignorance,  and  too  much  on 
the  bad  taste,  of  his  audience.      But  far  more  injudicious 
is  his  fantastic  remorse  and  the  supposed  vision  of  the  Furies 
in  the  last  scene.     It  is  astonishing  that  Racine  should  have 
challenged  comparison  with  one  of  the  most  celebrated  scenes 
of  Euripides  in  circumstances  that  deprived  him  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  rendering  his  own  effective.     For  the  style  of  the 
Andromaque,  it  abounds  with  grace  and  beauty;    but  there 
are,  to  my  apprehension,  more  insipid  and  feeble  lines,  and  a 
more  effeminate  tone,  than  in  his  later  tragedies. 

6.  Britannicus  appeared  in  1669;    and,  in  this  admirable 
Bntanni-     play,  Racine  first  showed  that  he  did  not  depend  on 

the  tone  of  gallantry  usual  among  his  courtly  hear- 
ers, nor  on  the  languid  sympathies  that  it  excites.     Terror 


CHAP.  VI.  RACINE—  BRITANNICUS.  2-i7 

and  pity,  the  twin-spirits  of  tragedy,  to  whom  Aristotle  has 
assigned  the  great  moral  office  of  purifying  the  passions,  are 
called  forth  in  their  shadowy  forms  to  sustain  the  consummate 
beauties  of  his  diction.  His  subject  was  original  and  happy ; 
with  that  historic  truth  which  usage  required,  and  that  poeti- 
cal probability  which  fills  up  the  outline  of  historic  truth 
•without  disguising  it.  What  can  be  more  entirely  dramatic, 
what  more  terrible  in  the  sense  that  Aristotle  means  (that  is, 
the  spectator's  sympathy  with  the  dangers  of  the  innocent), 
than  the  absolute  master  of  the  world,  like  the  veiled  prophet 
of  Khorasan,  throwing  off  the  appearances  of  virtue,  and 
standing  out  at  once  in  the  maturity  of  enormous  guilt  ?  A 
presaging  gloom,  like  that  which  other  poets  have  sought  by 
the  hackneyed  artifices  of  superstition,  hangs  over  the  scenes 
of  this  tragedy,  and  deepens  at  its  close.  We  sympathize 
by  turns  with  the  guilty  alarms  of  Agrippina,  the  virtuous 
consternation  of  Burrhus,  the  virgin  modesty  of  Junia,  the 
unsuspecting  ingenuousness  of  Britannicus.  Few  tragedies 
on  the  French  stage,  or  indeed  on  any  stage,  save  those  of 
Shakspeare,  display  so  great  a  variety  of  contrasted  charac- 
ters. None,  indeed,  are  ineffective,  except  the  confidante  of 
Agrippina ;  for  Narcissus  is  very  far  from  being  the  mere 
confidant  of  Nero :  he  is,  as  in  history,  his  preceptor  in 
crime;  and  his  cold  villany  is  well  contrasted  with  the  fierce 
passion  of  the  despot.  The  criticisms  of  Fontenelle  and 
others  on  small  incidents  in  the  plot,  such  as  the  concealment 
of  Nero  behind  a  curtain  that  he  may  hear  the  dialogue 
between  Junia  and  Britannicus,  which  is  certainly  more  fit 
for  comedy,1  ought  not  to  weigh  against  such  excellence  as  we 
find  in  all  the  more  essential  requisites  of  a  tragic  drama. 
Racine  had  much  improved  his  language  since  Andromaque ; 
the  conventional  phraseology  about  flames  and  fine  eyes, 
though  not  wholly  relinquished,  is  less  frequent ;  and  if  he 
has  not  here  reached,  as  he  never  did,  the  peculiar  impetuosity 
of  Corneille,  nor  given  to  his  Romans  the  grandeur  of  his 
predecessor's  conception,  he  is  full  of  lines  wherein,  as  every 
word  is  effective,  there  can  hardly  be  any  deficiency  of  vigor. 
It  is  the  vigor  indeed  of  Virgil,  not  of  Lucan. 

7.  In  one  passage,  Racine  has,  I  think,  excelled  Shak 
speare.  They  have  both  taken  the  same  idea  from  Plutarch. 
The  lines  of  Shakspeare  are  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra :  — 

1  It  is,  however,  taken  from  Tacitus. 


248  RACINE  —  BERENICE  -BAJAZET.  PAKT  IV 

"  Thy  demon,  that's  the  spirit  that  keeps  thee,  la 
Noble,  courageous,  high,  unmatchable, 
^v'here  Caesar's  is  not ;  but,  near  him,  thy  angel 
Becomes  a  fear,  as  being  o'erpowered." 

These  are,  to  my  apprehension,  not  very  forcible,  and  obscure 
even  to  those  who  know,  what  many  do  not,  that  by  *'  a  fear  " 
he  meant  a  common  goblin,  a  supernatural  being  of  a  more 
plebeian  rank  than  a  demon  or  angel.  The  single  verse  of 
Racine  is  magnificent:  — 

"  Mon  genie  6tonn6  tremble  devant  le  sien." 

8.  Berenice,  the  next  tragedy  of  Racine,  is  a  surprising 

proof  of  what  can  be  done  by  a  great  master ;  but  it 
must  be  admitted  that  it  wants  many  of  the  essential 
qualities  that  are  required  in  the  drama.  It  might  almost 
be  compared  with  Timon  of  Athens,  by  the  absence  of  fable 
and  movement.  For  nobleness  and  delicacy  of  sentiment, 
for  grace  of  style,  it  deserves  every  praise ;  but  is  rather 
tedious  in  the  closet,  and  must  be  far  more  so  on  the  stage. 
This  is  the  only  tragedy  of  Racine,  unless  perhaps  we  except 
Athalie,  in  which  the  story  presents  an  evident  moral ;  but  no 
poet  is  more  uniformly  moral  in  his  sentiments.  Corneille, 
to  whom  the  want  of  dramatic  fable  was  never  any  great  ob- 
jection, attempted  the  subject  of  Berenice  about  the  same 
time  with  far  inferior  success.  It  required  what  he  could  not 
give,  —  the  picture  of  two  hearts  struggling  against  a  noble 
and  a  blameless  love. 

9.  It  was  unfortunate  for  Racine,  that  he  did  not  more  fre- 
Baiazet        quently  break  through  the  prejudices  of  the  Frem-h 

theatre  in  favor  of  classical  subjects.  A  field  was 
open  of  almost  boundless  extent,  —  the  mediaeval  history  of 
Europe,  and  especially  of  France  herself.  His  predecessor 
had  been  too  successful  in  the  Cid  to  leave  it  doubtful 
whether  an  audience  would  approve  such  an  innovation  at  the 
hands  of  a  favored  tragedian.  Racine,  however,  did  not  ven- 
ture on  a  step,  which,  in  the  next  century,  Voltaire  turned  so 
much  to  account,  and  which  made  the  fortune  of  some  inferior 
tragedies.  But  considering  the  distance  of  place  equivalent, 
for  the  ends  of  the  drama,  to  that  of  time,  he  founded  on  an 
event  in  the  Turkish  history,  not  more  than  thirty  years  old, 
his  next  tragedy,  that  of  Bajazet.  The  greater  part  indeed 
of  the  fable  is  due  to  his  own  invention.  Bajazet  is  reckoned 
to  fall  below  most  of  his  other  tragedies  in  beauty  of  style : 


CHAP.  VI.  RACINE  —  M1THRIDATE.  249 

but  the  fable  is  well  connected ;  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
movement ;  and  an  unintermitting  interest  is  sustained  by 
Bajazet  and  Atalide,  two  of  the  noblest  characters  that  Ra- 
cine has  drawn.  Atalide  has  not  the  ingenuous  simplicity  of 
Junie,  but  displays  a  more  dramatic  flow  of  sentiment,  and  not 
less  dignity  or  tenderness  of  soul.  The  character  of  Rox- 
ane  is  conceived  with  truth  and  spirit ;  nor  is  the  resemblance 
some  have  found  in  it  to  that  of  Hermione  greater  than  be- 
longs to  forms  of  the  same  type.  Acomat,  the  vizier,  is  more 
a  favorite  with  the  French  critics ;  but,  in  such  parts,  Racine 
does  not  rise  to  the  level  of  Corneille.  No  poet  is  less  ex- 
posed to  the  imputation  of  bombastic  exaggeration :  yet,  in 
the  two  lines  with  which  Acomat  concludes  the  fourth  act, 
there  is  at  least  an  approach  to  burlesque ;  and  one  can 
hardly  say  that  they  would  have  been  out  of  place  in  Tom 
Thumb:  — 

"  Mourons,  moi,  cher  Osmin,  comme  un  vizir,  et  toi, 
Gomme  le  iaYori  d'un  homme  tel  que  moi." 

10.  The  next  tragedy  was  Mithridate ;  and,  in  this,  Racine 
has  been  thought  to  have  wrestled  against  Corneille 

i  •  i    ii        T      i  j?  o.i_  T-i      Mithndate. 

on  his  own  ground,  the  display  ot  the  unconquerable 
mind  of  a  hero.  We  find  in  the  part  of  Mithridate  a  great 
depth  of  thought,  in  compressed  and  energetic  language. 
But,  unlike  the  masculine  characters  of  Corneille,  he  is  not 
merely  sententious.  Racine  introduces  no  one  for  the  sake  of 
the  speeches  he  has  to  utter.  In  Mithridates  he  took  what 
history  has  delivered  to  us,  blending  with  it  no  improbable 
fiction  according  to  the  manners  of  the  East.  His  love  for 
Monime  has  nothing  in  it  extraordinary,  or  unlike  what 
we  might  expect  from  the  king  of  Pontus ;  it  is  a  fierce,  a 
jealous,  a  vindictive  love :  the  necessities  of  the  French 
language  alone,  and  the  usages  of  the  French  theatre,  could 
make  it  appear  feeble.  His  two  sons  are  naturally  less  effect- 
ive ;  but  the  loveliness  of  Monime  yields  to  no  female  cha- 
racter of  Racine.  There  is  something  not  quite  satisfactory 
in  the  stratagems  which  Mithridates  employs  to  draw  from 
her  a  confession  of  her  love  for  his  son.  They  are  not  un- 
congenial to  the  historic  character,  but,  according  to  our 
chivalrous  standard  of  heroism,  seem  derogatory  to  the  poeti- 
cal. 

11.  Iphigenie  followed  in  1674.     In  this,  Racine  had  again 
to  contend  with  Euripides  in  one  of  his  most  celebrated  tra 


250  RACINE— IPfllG&flE.  PART  IV 

gedies.  He  had  even,  in  the  character  of  Achilles,  to  con- 
tend, not  with  Homer  himself,  yet  with  the  Homeric 
associations  familiar  to  every  classical  scholar.  The 
love,  in  fact,  of  Achilles,  and  his  politeness  towards  Clytem- 
nestra,  are  not  exempt  from  a  tone  of  gallantry  a  little  repug- 
nant to  our  conception  of  his  manners.  Yet  the  Achilles  of 
Homer  is  neither  incapable  of  love  nor  of  courtesy,  so  that 
there  is  no  essential  repugnance  to  his  character.  That  of 
Iphigenia  in  Euripides  has  been  censured  by  Aristotle  as  in- 
consistent ;  her  extreme  distress  at  the  first  prospect  of  death 
being  followed  by  an  unusual  display  of  courage.  Hurd  has 
taken  upon  him  the  defence  of  the  Greek  tragedian,  and 
observes,  after  Brumoy,  that  the  Iphigenia  of  Racine,  being 
modelled  rather  according  to  the  comment  of  Aristotle  than 
the  example  of  Euripides,  is  so  much  the  worse.1  But  his 
apology  is  too  subtle,  and  requires  too  long  reflection,  for 
the  ordinary  spectator ;  and,  though  Shakspeare  might  have 
managed  the  transition  of  feeling  with  some  of  his  wonder- 
ful knowledge  of  human  nature,  it  is  certainly  presented  too 
crudely  by  Euripides,  and  much  in  the  style  which  I  have 
'  elsewhere  observed  to  be  too  usual  with  our  old  dramatists. 
The  Iphigenia  of  Racine  is  not  a  character,  like  those  of 
Shakspeare,  and  of  him,  perhaps,  alone,  which  nothing  less 
than  intense  meditation  can  develop  to  the  reader,  but  one 
which  a  good  actress  might  compass,  and  a  common  spectator 
understand.  Racine,  like  most  other  tragedians,  wrote  for 
the  stage :  Shakspeare  aimed  at  a  point  beyond  it,  and  some- 
times too  much  lost  sight  of  what  it  required. 

12.  Several  critics  have  censured  the  part  of  Eriphile. 
Yet  Fontenelle,  prejudiced  as  he  was  against  Racine,  admits 
that  it  is  necessary  for  the  catastrophe;  though  he  cavils,  I 
think,  against  her  appearance  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  play, 
laying  down  a  rule,  by  which  our  own  tragedians  would  not 
have  chosen  to  be  tried,  and  which  seems  far  too  rigid,  that 
the  necessity  of  the  secondary  characters  should  be  perceived 
from  their  first  appearance.2  The  question  for  Racine  was,  in 
what  manner  he  should  manage  the  catastrophe.  The  fabu- 
lous truth,  the  actual  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia,  was  so  revolting 
to  the  mind,  that  even  Euripides  thought  himself  obliged  to 
depart  from  it.  But  this  he  effected  by  a  contrivance  impos 

1  Hurd'g  Commentary  on  Horace,  vol.  i         *  Reflexions  sur  la  Poeti  iue ;  (Euyres  da 
P-  H5  Fontenelle,  yol.  iii.  p.  149 


CHAP.  VI.  RACIXE  — PHfiDRE  —  ESTHER.  251 

sible  on  the  French  stage,  and  which  would  have  changed 
Racine's  tragedy  to  a  common  melodrame.  It  appears  to  me 
that  he  very  happily  substituted  the  character  of  Eriphile, 
who,  as  Fontenelle  well  says,  is  the  hind  of  the  fable ;  and 
whose  impetuous  and  somewhat  disorderly  passions  both  fur- 
nish a  contrast  to  the  ideal  nobleness  of  Iphigenia  throughout 
the  tragedy,  and  reconcile  us  to  her  own  fate  at  the  close. 

13.  Once  more,  in  Phedre,  did  the  great  disciple  of  Euri- 
pides attempt  to  surpass  his  master.     In  both  tra-   p^^ 
gedies,  the  character  of  Phaedra  herself  throws  into 

shade  all  the  others ;  but  with  this  important  difference,  that  in 
Euripides  her  death  occurs  about  the  middle  of  the  piece, 
while  she  continues  in  Racine  till  the  conclusion.  The  French 
poet  has  borrowed  much  from  the  Greek,  more,  perhaps,  than 
in  any  former  drama,  but  has  surely  heightened  the  interest, 
and  produced  a  more  splendid  work  of  genius.  I  have  never 
read  the  particular  criticism  in  which  Schlegel  has  endeavored 
to  elevate  the  Hippolytus  above  the  Phedre.  Many,  even 
among  French  critics,  have  objected  to  the  love  of  Hip- 
polytus for  Aricia,  by  which  Racine  has  deviated  from  the 
older  mythological  tradition,  though  not  without  the  authority 
of  Virgil.  But  we  are  hardly  tied  to  all  the  circumstance 
of  fable ;  and  the  cold  young  huntsman  loses  nothing  in  the 
eyes  of  a  modern  reader  by  a  virtuous  attachment.  This 
tragedy  is  said  to  be  more  open  to  verbal  criticism  than  the 
Iphigenie ;  but  in  poetical  beauty  I  do  not  know  that  Racine 
has  ever  surpassed  it.  The  description  of  the  death  of  Hip- 
polytus is,  perhaps,  his  masterpiece.  It  is  true,  that,  according 
to  the  practice  of  our  own  stage,  long  descriptions,  especially 
in  elaborate  language,  are  out  of  use ;  but  it  is  not,  at  least, 
for  the  advocates  of  Euripides  to  blame  them. 

14.  The  Phedre  was  represented  in  1677;  and,  after  this, 
its  illustrious  author  seemed  to  renounce  the  stage. 

His  increasing  attachment  to  the  Jansenists  made  it 
almost  impossible,  with  any  consistency,  to  promote  an  amuse- 
ment which  they  anathematized.  But  he  was  induced,  after 
many  years,  in  1689,  by  Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  write 
Esther  for  the  purpose  of  representation  by  the  young  ladies 
whose  education  she  protected  at  St.  Cyr.  Esther,  though 
very  much  praised  for  beauty  of  language,  is  admitted  to  pos- 
sess little  merit  as  a  drama.  Much,  indeed,  could  not  be 
expected  in  the  circumstances.  It  was  acted  at  St.  Cyr: 


252  RACINE— ATHALIE.  PART  IV 

Louis  applauded,  and  it  is  said  that  the  Prince  de  Conde 
wept.  The  greatest  praise  of  Esther  is,  that  it  encouraged  its 
author  to  write  Athalie.  Once  more  restored  to 
dramatic  conceptions,  his  genius  revived  from  sleep 
with  no  loss  of  the  vigor  of  yesterday.  He  was  even  more  in 
Athalie  than  in  Iphigenie  and  Britannicus.  This  great 
work,  published  in  1691,  with  a  royal  prohibition  to  represent 
it  on  any  theatre,  stands,  by  general  consent,  at  the  head  of  all 
the  tragedies  of  Racine,  for  the  grandeur,  simplicity,  and 
interest  of  the  fable ;  for  dramatic  terror ;  for  theatrical  effect ; 
for  clear  and  judicious  management;  for  bold  and  forcible, 
rather  than  subtle,  delineation  of  character ;  for  sublime  senti- 
ment and  imagery.  It  equals,  if  it  does  not,  as  I  should 
incline  to  think,  surpass,  all  the  rest  in  the  perfection  of  style ; 
and  is  far  more  free  from  every  defect,  especially  from  feeble 
politeness  and  gallantry,  which  of  course  the  subject  could  not 
admit.  It  has  been  said  that  he  himself  gave  the  preference 
to  Phedre ;  but  it  is  more  extraordinary  that  not  only  his 
enemies,  of  whom  there  were  many,  but  the  public  itself,  was 
for  some  years  incapable  of  discovering  the  merit  of  Athalie. 
Boileau  declared  it  to  be  a  masterpiece ;  and  one  can  only  be 
astonished  that  any  could  have  thought  differently  from  Boi- 
leau. It  doubtless  gained  much  in  general  esteem  when  it 
came  to  be  represented  by  good  actors ;  for  no  tragedy  in  the 
French  language  is  more  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  stage. 

15.  The  chorus,  which  he  had  previously  introduced  in 
Esther,  was  a  very  bold  innovation  (for  the  revival  of  what 
is  forgotten  must  always  be  classed  as  innovation)  ;  and  it  re- 
quired all  the  skill  of  Racine  to  prevent  its  appearing  in  our 
eyes  an  impertinent  excrescence.  But  though  we  do  not, 
perhaps,  wholly  reconcile  ourselves  to  some  of  the  songs, 
which  too  much  suggest,  by  association,  the  Italian  opera,  the 
chorus  of  Athalie  enhances  the  interest  as  well  as  the  splendor 
of  the  tragedy.  It  was,  indeed,  more  full  of  action  and  scenic 
pomp  than  any  he  had  written,  and  probably  than  any 
other  which  up  to  that  time  had  been  represented  in  France. 
The  part  of  Athalie  predominates,  but  not  so  as  to  eclipse  the 
rest.  The  high-priest  Joad  is  drawn  with  a  stern  zeal,  admi- 
rably dramatic,  and  without  which  the  idolatrous  queen  would 
have  trampled  down  all  before  her  during  the  conduct  of  tho 
fable,  whatever  justice  might  have  ensued  at  the  last.  We 
feel  this  want  of  an  adequate  resistance  tc  triumphant  crime 


CHAP  VI.  COMPARED  WITH  CORNEILrjc.  253 

in  the  Rodogune  of  Corneille.  No  character  appears  super- 
fluous or  feeble :  while  the  plot  has  all  the  simplicity  of  the 
Greek  stage,  it  has  all  the  movement  and  continual  excitation 
of  the  modern. 

16.  The  female  characters  of  Racine  are  of  the  greatest 
beauty :  they  have  the  ideal  grace  and  harmony  of   Racine^ 
ancient  sculpture,  and  bear  somewhat  of  the  same  female 
analogy  to  those  of  Shakspeare  which  that  art  does 

to  painting.  Andromache,  Monimia,  Iphigenia,  we  may  add 
Junia,  have  a  dignity  and  faultlessness  neither  unnatural  nor 
insipid,  because  tliey  are  only  the  ennobling  and  purifying  of 
human  passions.  They  are  the  forms  of  possible  excellence, 
not  from  individual  models,  nor  likely,  perhaps,  to  delight 
every  reader,  for  the  same  reason  that  more  eyes  are  pleased  by 
Titian  than  by  Raffaelle.  But  it  is  a  very  narrow  criticism 
which  excludes  either  school  from  our  admiration,  which  dis- 
parages Racine  out  of  idolatry  of  Shakspeare.  The  latter,  it 
is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say,  stands  out  of  reach  of  all  com- 
petition. But  it  is  not  on  this  account  that  we  are  to  give  up 
an  author  so  admirable  as  Racine. 

17.  The  chief  faults  of  Racine  may  partly  be  ascribed  to 
the  influence  of  national  taste,  though  we  must  con-  jj^^g  g^ 
fess  that  Corneille  has  better  avoided  them.    Though  pared  with 
love,  with  the  former,  is  always  tragic  and  connected 

with  the  heroic  passions,  never  appearing  singly,  as  in  several 
of  our  own  dramatists,  yet  it  is  sometimes  unsuitable  to  the 
character,  and  still  more  frequently  feeble  and  courtier-like  in 
the  expression.  In  this  he  complied  too  much  with  the  times ; 
but  we  must  believe  that  he  did  not  entirely  feel  that  he  was 
wrong.  Corneille  had,  even  while  Racine  was  in  his  glory, 
a  strenuous  band  of  supporters.  Fontenelle,  writing  in  the 
next  century,  declares  that  time  has  established  a  decision  in 
which  most  seem  to  concur,  that  the  first  place  is  due  to  the 
elder  poet,  the  second  to  the  younger ;  every  one  making 
the  interval  between  them  a  little  greater  or  less  according  to 
his  taste.  But  Voltaire,  La  Harpe,  and  in  general,  I  appre- 
hend, the  later  French  critics,  have  given  the  preference  to 
Racine.  I  presume  to  join  my  suffrage  to  theirs.  Racine 
appears  to  me  the  superior  tragedian ;  and  I  must  add,  that  I 
think  him  next  to  Shakspeare  among  all  the  moderns.  The 
comparison  with  Euripides  is  so  natural  that  it  can  hardly  be 
avoided.  Certainly  no  tragedy  of  the  Greek  poet  is  so  skil- 


254  BEAUTY  OF  RACINE'S  STYLE.  pART  rv. 

ful  or  so  perfect  as  Athalie  or  Britannicus.  The  tedious 
scenes  during  which  the  action  is  stagnant,  the  impertinences 
of  useless,  often  perverse  morality,  the  extinction,  by  bad 
management,  of  the  sympathy  that  had  been  raised  in  the 
earlier  part  of  a  play,  the  foolish  alternation  of  repartees  in  a 
genes  of  single  lines,  will  never  be  found  in  Racine.  But, 
when  we  look  only  at  the  highest  excellences  of  Euripides, 
there  is,  perhaps,  a  depth  of  pathos  and  an  intensity  of  dra- 
matic effect  which  Racine  himself  has  not  attained.  The 
difference  between  the  energy  and  sweetness  of  the  two 
languages  is  so  important  in  the  comparison,  that  I  shall 
give  even  this  preference  with  some  hesitation. 

18.  The  style  of  Racine  is  exquisite.    Perhaps  he  is  second 
Beauty  of    only  to  Virgil  among  all  poets.     But  I  will  give  the 
his  style.     praise  of  this  in  the  words  of  a  native  critic :  "  His 
expression  is  always  so  happy  and  so  natural,  that  it  seems  as 
if  no  other  could  have  been  found ;   and  every  word  is  placed 
in  such  a  manner,  that  we  cannot  fancy  any  other  place  to 
have  suited  it  as  well.    The  structure  of  his  style  is  such  that 
nothing  could  be  displaced,  nothing  added,  nothing  retrenched : 
it  is  one  unalterable  whole.      Even  his  incorrectnesses  are 
often  but  sacrifices  required  by  good  taste ;   nor  would  any 
thing   be  more  difficult  than  to  write  over   again  a  line  of 
Racine.     No  one  has  enriched  the  language  with  a  greater 
number  of  turns  of  phrase ;  no  one  is  bold  with  more  felicity 
and  discretion,  or  figurative  with  more  grace  and  propriety ; 
no  one  has  handled  with  more  command  an  idiom  often  rebel- 
lious, or  with  more  skill  an  instrument  always  difficult ;   no 
one  has  better  understood  that  delicacy  of  style  which  must 
not  be  mistaken  for  feebleness,  and  is,  in  fact,  but  that  air  of 
ease  which  conceals  from  the  reader  the  labor  of  the  work  and 
the  artifices  of  the  composition ;  or  better  managed  the  variety 
of  cadences,  the  resources  of  rhythm,  the  association  and  de- 
duction of  ideas.     In  short,  if  we  consider  that  his  perfection 
in  these  respects  may  be  opposed  to  that  of  Virgil,  and  that  he 
spoke  a  language  less  flexible,  less  poetical,  and  less  harmoni- 
ous, we  shall  readily  believe  that  Racine  is,  of  all  mankind, 
the  one   to  whom  nature  has  given  the  greatest  talent   for 
versification."1 

1 9.  Thomas,  the  younger  and  far  inferior  brother  of  Pierre 
Corneille,  was  yet  by  the  fertility  of  his  pen,  by  the  success 

1  La  Harpe,  Eloge  de  Racine,  as  quoted  by  himself  in  Cours  de  Litterature,  vol  ri. 


CHAP.  VI.  THOMAS  CORXEILLE  —  L  A  FOSSE.  255 

of  some  of  his  tragedies,  and  by  a  certain  reputation  which 
two  of  them  have  acquired,  the  next  name,  but  at  xij0mas 
a  vast  interval,  to  Racine.  Voltaire  says  he  would  compile: 
have  enjoyed  a  great  reputation  but  for  that  of  his 
brother  ;  one  of  those  pointed  sayings  which  seem  to  convey 
something,  but  are  really  devoid  of  meaning.  Thomas  Cor- 
neille  is  never  compared  with  his  brother ;  and  probably  his 
brother  has  been  rather  serviceable  to  his  name  with  posterity 
than  otherwise.  He  wrote  with  more  purity,  according  to 
the  French  critics ;  and  it  must  be  owned,  that,  in  his  Ariane, 
he  has  given  to  love  a  tone  more  passionate  and  natural  than 
the  manly  scenes  of  the  older  tragedian  ever  present.  This 
is  esteemed  his  best  work ;  but  it  depends  wholly  on  the  prin 
cipal  character,  whose  tenderness  and  injuries  excite  our 
sympathy,  and  from  whose  lips  many  lines  of  great  beauty 
flow.  It  may  be  compared  with  the  Berenice  of  Racine, 
represented  but  a  short  time  before :  there  is  enough  of  re- 
semblance in  the  fables  to  provoke  comparison.  That  of 
Thomas  Corneille  is  more  tragic,  less  destitute  of  theatrica 
movement,  and  consequently  better  chosen ;  but  such  relative 
praise  is  of  little  value,  where  none  can  be  given,  in  this 
respect,  to  the  object  of  comparison.  We  feel  that  the  prose 
romance  is  the  proper  sphere  for  the  display  of  an  affection, 
neither  untrue  to  nature,  nor  unworthy  to  move  the  heart, 
but  wanting  the  majesty  of  the  tragic  muse.  An  effeminacy 
uncongenial  to  tragedy  belongs  to  this  play  ;  and  the  termi- 
nation, where  the  heroine  faints  away  instead  of  dying,  is 
somewhat  insipid.  The  only  other  tragedy  of  the  younger 
Corneille  that  can  be  mentioned  is  the  Earl  of  Essex.  In 
this  he  has  taken  greater  liberties  with  history  than  his  critics 
approve  ;  and,  though  love  does  not  so  much  predominate  as  in 
Ariane,  it  seems  to  engross,  in  a  style  rather  too  romantic, 
both  the  hero  and  his  sovereign. 

20.  Neither  of  these  tragedies,  perhaps,  deserves  to  be  put 
on  a  level  with  the  Manlius  of  La  Fosse,  to  which  Manilas  of 
La  Harpe  accords  the  preference  above  all  of  the  ** Fosse- 
seventeenth  century  after  those  of  Corneille  and  Racine.  It 
is  just  to  observe,  what  is  not  denied,  that  the  author  has 
borrowed  the  greater  part  of  his  story  from  the  Venice  Pre- 
served of  Otway.  The  French  critics  maintain  that  he  has 
far  excelled  his  original.  It  is  possible  that  we  might  hesi- 
tate to  own  this  general  superiority;  but  several  blemishes 


256  MOLlfcRE  —  L'AVARE.  PART  IV. 

have  been  removed,  and  the  conduct  is  perhaps  more  noble, 
or  at  least  more  fitted  to  the  French  stage.  But,  when  we 
take  from  La  Fosse  what  belongs  to  another,  —  characters 
strongly  marked,  sympathies  powerfully  contrasted,  a  develop- 
ment of  the  plot  probable  and  interesting,  — what  will  remain 
that  is  purely  his  own  ?  There  will  remain  a  vigorous  tone 
of  language,  a  considerable  power  of  description,  and  a  skill 
in  adapting,  we  may  add  with  justice,  in  sometimes  improving, 
what  he  found  in  a  foreign  language.  We  must  pass  over 
some  other  tragedies  which  have  obtained  less  honor  in  their 
native  land,  —  those  of  Duche,  Quinault,  and  Campistron. 

21.  Moliere  is  perhaps,   of  all  French  writers,  the  one 

whom  his  country  has  most  uniformly  admired,  and 
4re'  in  whom  her  -critics  are  most  unwilling  to  acknow- 
ledge faults;  though  the  observations  of  Schlegel  on  the 
defects  of  Moliere,  and  especially  on  his  large  debts  to  older 
comedy,  are  not  altogether  without  foundation.  Moliere 
began  with  L'Etourdi  in  1 653  ;  and  his  pieces  followed  rapidly 
till  his  death  in  1673.  About  one-half  are  in  verse.  I  shall 
select  a  few,  without  regard  to  order  of  time ;  and,  first,  one 
written  in  prose,  —  L'Avare. 

22.  Plautus  first  exposed  upon  the  stage  the  wretchedness 

of  avarice,  the  punishment  of  a  selfish  love  of  gold,  not 
only  in  the  life  of  pain  it  has  cost  to  acquire  it,  but 
in  the  terrors  that  it  brings ;  in  the  disordered  state  of  mind, 
which  is  haunted,  as  by  some  mysterious  guilt,  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  secret  wealth.  The  character  of  Euclio  in  the 
Aulularia  is  dramatic,  and,  as  far  as  we  know,  original : 
the  moral  effect  requires,  perhaps,  some  touches  beyond  absolute 
probability ;  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  a  few  passages  are 
over-charged.  Moliere  borrowed  L'Avare  from  this  comedy; 
and  I  am  not  at  present  aware,  that  the  subject,  though  so 
well  adapted  for  the  stage,  had  been  chosen  by  any  interme- 
diate dramatist.  He  is  indebted  not  merely  for  the  scheme 
of  his  play,  but  for  many  strokes  of  humor,  to  Plautus.  But 
this  takes  off  little  from  the  merit  of  this  excellent  comedy. 
The  plot  is  expanded  without  incongruous  or  improbable  cir- 
cumstances ;  new  characters  are  well  combined  with  that  of 
Harpagon,  and  his  own  is  at  once  more  diverting  and  less 
extravagant  than  that  of  Euclio.  The  penuriousness  of  the 
latter,  though  by  no  means  without  example,  leaves  no  room 
for  any  other  object  than  the  concealed  treasure,  in  which  his 


CHAP.  VI.  L'ECOLE  DES  FEMMES.  257 

thoughts  are  concentred.  But  Moliere  had  conceived  a  more 
complicated  action.  Harpagon  does  not  absolutely  starve  the 
rats  ;  he  possesses  horses,  though  he  feeds  them  ill ;  he  has  ser- 
vants, though  he  grudges  them  clothes ;  he  even  contemplates 
a  marriage-supper  at  his  own  expense,  though  he  intends  to 
have  a  bad  one.  He  has  evidently  been  compelled  to  make 
some  sacrifices  to  the  usages  of  mankind,  and  is  at  once  a 
more  common  and  a  more  theatrical  character  than  Euclio. 
In  other  respects  they  are  much  alike :  their  avarice  has 
reached  that  point  where  it  is  without  pride ;  the  dread  of 
losing  their  wealth  has  overpowered  the  desire  of  being 
thought  to  possess  it ;  and  though  this  is  a  more  natural  inci- 
dent in  the  manners  of  Greece  than  in  those  of  France,  yet 
the  concealment  of  treasure,  even  in  the  time  of  Moliere,  was 
sufficiently  frequent  for  dramatic  probability.  A  general  tone 
of  selfishness,  the  usual  source  and  necessary  consequence  of 
avarice,  conspires  with  the  latter  quality  to  render  Harpagon 
odious  ;  and  there  wants  but  a  little  more  poetical  justice 
in  the  conclusion,  which  leaves  the  casket  in  his  possession. 

23.  Hurd   has   censured   Moliere   without   much  justice. 
"  For  the  picture  of  the  avaricious  man.  Plautus  and  Moliere 
have  presented  us  with  a  fantastic,  nnpleasing  draught  of  the 
passion  of  avarice."     It  may  be  answered  to  this,  that  Harpa- 
gon's  character  is,  as  has  been  said  above,  not  so  mere  a 
delineation  of  the  passion  as  that  of  Euclio.     But.  as  a  more 
general  vindication  of  Moliere.  it  should  be  kept  in  mind,  that 
every  exhibition  of  a  predominant  passion  within  the  compass 
of  the  five  acts  of  a  play  must  be  colored  beyond  the  truth  of 
nature,  or  it  will  not  have  time  to  produce  its  effect.     This  is 
one  great  advantage  that  romance  possesses  over  the  drama. 

24.  L'Ecole  des  Femmes  is   among  the   most   diverting 
comedies  of  Moliere.     Yet  it  has  in  a  remarkable   i/Ecoie  dee 
degree  what  seems  inartificial  to  our  own  taste,  and   Femmes. 
contravenes  a  good  general  precept  of  Horace :   the  action 
passes  almost  wholly  in  recital.     But  this  is  so  well  connected 
with  the  development  of  the  plot  and  characters,  and  produces 
such  amusing  scenes,  that  no  spectator,  at  least  on  the  French 
theatre,  would  be  sensible  of  any  languor.     Arnolphe  is  an 
excellent  modification  of  the  type  which  Moliere  loved  to 
reproduce,  —  the  selfish  and  morose  cynic,  whose  pretended 
hatred  of  the  vices  of  the  world  springs  from  an  absorbing 
regard  to  his  own  gratification.     He  has  made  him  as  malig- 

VUL.  iv.  17 


258  LK  MISANTHROPE.  PART  IV. 

nant  as  censorious ;  he  delights  in  tales  of  scandal ;  he  is 
pleased  that  Horace  should  be  successful  in  gallantry,  because 
it  degrades  others.  The  half-witted  and  ill-bred  child,  of 
whom  he  becomes  the  dupe,  as  well  as  the  two  idiot  servants, 
are  delineated  with  equal  vivacity.  In  this  comedy  we  find 
the  spirited  versification,  full  of  grace  and  humor,  in  which  no 
one  has  rivalled  Moliere,  and  which  has  never  been  attempted 
on  the  English  stage.  It  was  probably  its  merit  which  raised 
a  host  of  petty  detractors,  on  whom  the  author  revenged  him- 
self in  his  admirable  piece  of  satire,  La  Critique  de  1'Ecole 
des  Femmes.  The  affected  pedantry  of  the  Hotel  Rambou 
illet  seems  to  be  ridiculed  in  this  retaliation :  nothing,  in 
fact,  could  be  more  unlike  than  the  style  of  Moliere  to  their 
own. 

25.  He  gave  another  proof  of  contempt  for  the  false  taste 
Le  Misan-     °f  some  Parisian  circles,  in  the  Misanthrope  ;  though 
thrope.        the   criticism   of  Alceste   on   the   wretched  sonnet 
forms  but  a  subordinate  portion  of  that  famous  comedy.     It  is 
generally  placed  next  to  Tartuffe  among  the  works  of  Moliere. 
Alceste  is  again  the  cynic,  but  more  honorable  and  less  openly 
selfish,  and  with  more  of  a  real  disdain  of  vice  in  his  misan- 
thropy.    Rousseau,  upon  this  account,  and  many  others  after 
him,   have  treated  the  play  as  a  vindication  of  insincerity 
against  truth,  and  as  making  virtue  itself  ridiculous  on  the 
stage.     This  charge,  however,  seems  uncandid :   neither  the 
rudeness   of  Alceste,   nor   the   misanthropy   from    which   it 
springs,  are  to  be  called  virtues  ;  and  we  may  observe  that  he 
displays  no  positively  good  quality  beyond  sincerity,  unless  his 
ungrounded  and  improbable  love  for  a  coquette  is  to  pass  for 
such.     It  is  true  that  the  politeness  of  Philinthe,  with  whom 
the  Misanthrope  is  contrasted,  borders  a  little  too  closely  upon 
flattery  :  but  no  oblique  end  is  in  his  view  ;  he  flatters  to  give 
pleasure  ;  and,  if  we  do  not  much  esteem  his  character,  we  are 
not  solicitous  for  his  punishment.     The  dialogue  of  the  Misan- 
thrope is  uniformly  of  the  highest  style ;    the  female,  and 
indeed  all  the  characters,  are  excellently  conceived  and  sus- 
tained :   if  this  comedy  fails  of  any  thing  at  present,  it  is 
through  the  difference  of  manners,  and  perhaps,  in  represen- 
tation, through  the  want  of  animated  action  on  the  stage. 

26.  In  Les  Femmes  Savantes,  there  is  a  more  evident 
personality  in  the  characters,  and  a  more  malicious  exposure 
of  absurdity,  than  in  the  Misanthrope ;  but  the  ridicule,  fall- 


CHAP.  VI.       LES  FEMMES  SAVANTES  —  TARTUFFE.  259 

ing  on  a  less  numerous  class,  is  not  so  well  calculated  to  be 
appreciated  by  posterity.  It  is,  however,  both  in  Les  Femmea 
reading  and  representation,  a  more  amusing  comedy :  Savantes- 
in  no  one  instance  has  Moliere  delineated  such  variety  of 
manners,  or  displayed  so  much  of  his  inimitable  gayety,  and 
power  of  fascinating  the  audience  with  very  little  plot,  by  the 
mere  exhibition  of  human  follies.  The  satire  falls  deservedly 
on  pretenders  to  taste  and  literature,'  for  whom  Moliere 
always  testifies  a  bitterness  of  scorn  in  which  we  perceive 
some  resentment  of  their  criticisms.  The  shorter  piece, 
entitled  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules,  is  another  shaft  directed 
at  the  literary  ladies  of  Paris.  They  had  provoked  a  danger- 
ous enemy ;  but  the  good  taste  of  the  next  age  might  be 
ascribed  in  great  measure  to  his  unmerciful  exposure  of  affec- 
tation and  pedantry. 

27.  It  was  not  easy,  so  late  as  the  age  of  Moliere,  for  the 
dramatist  to  find  any  untrodden  field  in  the  follies 

and  vices  of  mankind.  But  one  had  been  reserved 
for  him  in  Tartuffe,  —  religious  hypocrisy.  We  should  have 
expected  the  original  draft  of  such  a  character  on  the  English 
stage  ;  nor  had  our  old  writers  been  forgetful  of  their  invete- 
rate enemies,  the  Puritans,  who  gave  such  full  scope  for  their 
satire.  But,  choosing  rather  the  easy  path  of  ridicule,  they  fell 
upon  the  starch  dresses  and  quaint  language  of  the  fanatical 
party ;  and,  where  they  exhibited  these  in  conjunction  with 
hypocrisy,  made  the  latter  more  ludicrous  than  hateful.  The 
Luke  of  Massinger  is  deeply  and  villanously  dissembling,  but 
does  not  wear  so  conspicuous  a  garb  of  religious  sanctity  as 
Tartuffe.  The  comedy  of  Moliere  is  not  only  original  in  this 
character,  but  is  a  new  creation  in  dramatic  poetry.  It  has 
been  doubted  by  some  critics,  whether  the  depth  of  guilt  that 
it  exhibits,  the  serious  hatred  that  it  inspires,  are  not  beyond 
the  strict  province  of  comedy.  But  this  seems  rather  a 
technical  cavil.  If  subjects  such  as  the  Tartuffe  are  not 
fit  for  comedy,  they  are  at  least  fit  for  dramatic  representa- 
tion ;  and  some  new  phrase  must  be  invented  to  describe  their 
class. 

28.  A  different  kind  of  objection  is  still  sometimes  made 
to  this  play,  that  it  brings  religion  itself  into  suspicion.     And 
this  would  no  doubt  have  been  the  case,  if  the  contemporaries 
of  Moliere  in  England  had  dealt  with  the  subject.     But  the 
boundaries  between  the  reality  and  its  false  appearances  are 


2  GO  GEORGE  DANDIN.     .  PART  IV. 

so  well  guarded  in  this  comedy,  that  no  reasonable  ground  of 
exception  can  be  thought  to  remain.  No  better  advice  can 
be  given  to  those  who  take  umbrage  at  the  Tartuffe  than  to 
read  it  again.  For  there  may  be  good  reason  to  suspect  that 
they  are  themselves  among  those  for  whose  benefit  it  was 
intended :  the  Tartuffes,  happily,  may  be  comparatively  few ; 
but,  while  the  Orgons  and  Pernelles  are  numerous,  they  will 
not  want  their  harvest.  Moliere  did  not  invent  the  proto- 
types of  his  hypocrite :  they  were  abundant  at  Paris  in  his 
time. 

29.  The  interest  of  this  play  continually  increases ;  and  the 
fifth  act  is  almost  crowded  by  a  rapidity  of  events,  not  so 
usual  on  the  French  stage  as  our  own.     Tartuffe  himself  is  a 
masterpiece  of  skill.     Perhaps  in  the  cavils  of  La  Bruyere 
there  may  be  some  justice  ;    but  the  essayist  has  forgotten 
that  no  character  can  be  rendered  entirely  effective  to  an 
audience  without  a  little  exaggeration  of  its  attributes.     No- 
thing can  be  more  happily  conceived  than  the  credulity  of  the 
honest  Orgon,  and  his  more  doting  mother :  it  is  that  which 
we  sometimes  witness,  incurable  except  by  the  evidence  of  the 
senses,  and  fighting  every  inch  of  ground  against  that.     In 
such  a  subject,  there  was  not  much  opportunity  for  the  comic 
talent  of  Moliere  ;  yet,  in  some  well-known  passages,  he  has 
enlivened  it  as  far  as  was  possible.     The  Tartuffe  will  gene- 
rally be  esteemed  the  greatest  effort  of  this  author's  genius : 
the  Misanthrope,  the  Femmes  Savantes,  and  the  Ecole  des 
Femmes,  will  follow  in  various  order,  according  to  our  tastes. 
These  are  by  far  the  best  of  his  comedies  in  verse.     Among 
those  in  prose,  we  may  give  the  first  place  to  L'Avare,  and 
the  next  either  to  Le  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme,  or  to  George 
Dandin. 

30.  These  two  plays  have  the  same  objects  of  moral  satire : 
Bourgeois    on  one  hand,  the  absurd  vanity  of  plebeians  in  seek- 
homme       *n&  t^ie  ^ance  or  acquaintance  of  the  nobility  ;  on 
George        the  other,  the  pride  and  meanness   of  the  nobility 
Dandin.       themselves.     They  are  both  abundantly  diverting ; 
but  the  sallies  of  humor  are,  I  think,  more  frequent  in  the 
first  three  acts  of  the  former.     The  last  two  acts  are  improba- 
ble and  less  amusing.     The  shorter  pieces  of  Moliere  border 
very  much  upon  farce :  he  permits  himself  more  vulgarity  of 
character,  more  grossness  in  language  and  incident ;  but  his 
farces  are  seldom  absurd,  and  never  dull. 


CHAP.  VI.  CHARACTER  OF  MOLI^RE.  261 

31.  The  French  have  claimed  for  Moliere,  and  few  perhaps 
have  disputed  the  pretension,  a  superiority  over  all  character 
earlier  and  later  writers  of  comedy.  He  certainly  ofMoUere. 
leaves  Plautus,  the  original  model  of  the  school  to  which  he 
belonged,  at  a  vast  distance.  The  grace  and  gentlemanly  ele- 
gance of  Terence  he  has  not  equalled ;  but  in  the  more  ap- 
propriate merits  of  comedy,  just  and  forcible  delineation  of 
character,  skilful  contrivance  of  circumstances,  and  humorous 
dialogue,  we  must  award  him  the  prize.  The  Italian  and 
Spanish  dramatists  are  quite  unworthy  to  be  named  in  com- 
parison ;  and  if  the  French  theatre  has  ha  later  times,  as  is 
certainly  the  case,  produced  some  excellent  comedies,  we 
have,  I  believe,  no  reason  to  contradict  the  suffrage  of  the 
nation  itself,  that  they  owe  almost  as  much  to  what  they  have 
caught  from  this  great  model  as  to  the  natural  genius  of  their 
authors.  -But  it  is  not  for  us  to  abandon  the  rights  of  Shak- 
speare.  In  all  things  most  essential  to  comedy,  we  cannot 
acknowledge  his  inferiority  to  Moliere.  He  had  far  more 
invention  of  characters,  with  an  equal  vivacity  and  force  in 
their  delineation.  His  humor  was  at  least  as  abundant  and 
natural,  his  wit  incomparably  more  brilliant ;  in  fact,  Moliere 
hardly  exhibits  this  quality  at  all.1  The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor,  almost  the  only  pure  comedy  of  Shakspeare,  is 
surely  not  disadvantageously  compared  with  George  Dandin 
or  Le  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme,  or  even  with  L'Ecole  des 
Femmes.  For  the  Tartuffe  or  the  Misanthrope  it  is  vain  to 
seek  a  proper  counterpart  in  Shakspeare :  they  belong  to  a 
different  state  of  manners.  But  the  powers  of  Moliere  are 
directed  with  greater  skill  to  their  object :  none  of  his  energy 
is  wasted ;  the  spectator  is  not  interrupted  by  the  serious 
scenes  of  tragi-cornedy,  nor  his  attention  drawn  aside  by  poeti- 
cal episodes.  Of  Shakspeare  we  may  justly  say,  that  be  had 
the  greater  genius  ;  but  perhaps  of  Moliere,  that  he  has  writ 
ten  the  best  comedies.  We  cannot  at  least  put  any  third 
dramatist  in  competition  with  him.  Fletcher  and  Jonson, 
Wycherley  and  Congreve,  Farquhar  and  Sheridan,  with  great 
excellences  of  their  own,  fall  short  of  his  merit  as  well  as  of 
his  fame.  Yet,  in  humorous  conception,  our  admirable  play, 
the  Provoked  Husband,  the  best  parts  of  which  are  due  to 

1  [A  French  critic  upon  the  first  edition  that  I  should  deny  the  latter  quality  to 
of  this  work  has  supposed  icit  to  be  the  Moliere.  especially  after  the  eulogies  I 
game  as  tsfrit,  and  is  justly  astonished  hare  been  passing  on  him.  — 1842.] 


2G2  LES  PLAIDEURS  OF  RACINE  —  REGNARD.     PART  IV. 

Vanbrugh,  seems  to  be  equal  to  any  thing  be  bas  left.  His 
spirited  and  easy  versification  stands,  of  course,  untouched  by 
any  English  rivalry:  we  may  have  been  wise  in  rejecting 
verse  from  our  stage  ;  but  we  have  certainly  given  the  French 
a  right  to  claim  all  the  honor  that  belongs  to  it. 

32.  llacine  once  only  attempted   comedy.      His  wit  was 

quick  and  sarcastic ;  and  in  epigram  he  did  not  spare 
deurs  of  his  enemies.  In  his  Plaideurs  there  is  more  of 
Kacme.  liuraor  and  stage-effect  than  of  wit.  The  ridicule 
falls  happily  on  the  pedantry  of  lawyers  and  the  folly  of 
suitors  ;  but  the  technical  language  is  lost  in  great  measure 
upon  the  audience.  This  comedy,  if  it  be  not  rather  a  farce, 
is  token  from  The  Wasps  of  Aristophanes ;  and  that  Rabelais 
of  antiquity  supplied  an  extravagance  very  improbably  intro- 
duced into  the  third  act  of  Les  Plaideurs,  the  trial  of  the  dog. 
Far  from  improving  the  humor,  which  had  been  amusingly 
kept  up  during  the  first  two  acts,  this  degenerates  into  absur- 
dity. 

33.  Regnard  is  always  placed  next  to  Moliere  among  the 
Regnard:     comic  writers  of  France  in  this,  and  perhaps  in  any 
Le  Joueur.  age>     -phe  plays,  indeed,  which  entitle  him  to  such  a 
rank,  are  but  few.     Of  these  the  best  is  acknowledged  to  be 
Le  Joueur.      Regnard,   taught  by  his  own  experience,   lias 
here   admirably   delineated   the    character   of  an   inveterate 
gamester :  without  parade  of  morality,  few  comedies  are  more 
usefully  moral.     We  have  not  the   struggling  virtues    of  a 
Charles  Surface,  which  the  dramatist  may  feign  that  he  may 
reward  at  the  fifth  act:  Regnard  has  better  painted  the  self- 
ish, ungrateful  being,  who,  though  not  incapable  of  love,  pawns 
his  mistress's  picture,  the  instant  after  she  has  given  it  to  him, 
that  he  may  return  to  the  dice-box.     Her  just  abandonment, 
and  his  own  disgrace,  terminate  the  comedy  with   a   moral 
dignity  which  the  stage  does  not  always  maintain,  and  which, 
in  the  first  acts,  the  spectator  does  not  expect.     The  other 
characters  seem  to  me  various,  spirited,  and  humorous :  the 
valet  of  Valere  the  gamester  is  one  of  the  best  of  that  numer- 
ous class,  to  whom  comedy  has  owed  so  much ;  but  the  pre- 
tended marquis,  though  diverting,  talks  too  much  like  a  genu- 
ine coxcomb  of  the  world.     Moliere  did  this  better  in  Les 
Frecieuses  Ridicules.     Regnard  is  hi  this  play  full  of  those 
gay  sallies  which  cannot  be  read  without  laughter ;  the  inci- 
dents follow  rapidly ;  there  is  more  movement  than  in  some 


CHAP.  VI.  QUINAULT— BOUKSAULT.  2G3 

of  the  best  of  Moliere's  comedies,  and  the  speeches  are  not  so 
prolix. 

34.  Next  to  Le  Joueur  among  Regnard's  comedies,  it  has 
been  usual  to  place  Le  Legataire,  not  by  any  means  ms  other 
inferior  to  the  first  in  humor  and  vivacity,  but  with   plays- 
less  force  of  character,  and  more  of  the  common  tricks  of  the 
stage.     The  moral,  instead  of  being  excellent,  is  of  the  worst 
kind ;    being  the  success   and   dramatic   reward   of  a  gross 
fraud,  —  the  forgery  of  a  will  by  the  hero  of  the  piece  and  his 
servant.      This  servant  is,  however,  a  very  comical  rogue ; 
and  we  should  not,  perhaps,  wish  to  see   him   sent   to   the 
galleys.     A  similar  censure  might  be  passed  on  the  comedy 
of  Regnard   which   stands   third   in   reputation, — Les    Me- 
nechmes.     The  subject,  as  explained  by  the  title,  is  old, — 
twin-brothers,  whose  undistinguishable  features  are  the  source 
of  endless  confusion ;    but,  what  neither  Plautus  nor  Shak- 
speare  have  thought  of,  one  avails  himself  of  the  likeness  to 
receive  a  large  sum  of  money  due  to  the  other,  and  is  thought 
very  generous  at  the  close  of  the  play  when  he  restores  a 
moiety.     Of  the  plays  founded  on  this  diverting  exaggeration, 
Regnard's  is,  perhaps,  the  best :  he  has  more  variety  of  inci- 
dent  than    Plautus ;    and   by  leaving   out   the    second   pair 
of  twins,  the  Dromio  servants,  who  render  the  Comedy  of 
Errors  almost  too  inextricably  confused  for  the  spectator  or 
reader,  as  well  as  by  making  one  of  the  brothers  aware  of  the 
mistake,  and  a  party  in  the  deception,  he  has  given  an  unity 
of  plot  instead  of  a  series  of  incoherent  blunders. 

35.  The  Mere   Coquette  of  Quinault  appears  a  comedy  of 
great  merit.    Without  the  fine  traits  of  nature  which   Quinault ; 
we  find  in  those  of  Moliere,  without  the  sallies  of    Boursault- 
humor  which  enliven  those  of  Regnard,  with  a  versification 
perhaps  not  very  forcible,  it  pleases  us  by  a  fable  at  once 
novel,  as  far  as  I  know,  and  natural,  by  the  interesting  cha- 
racters of  the  lovers,  by  the  decency  and  tone  of  good  company, 
which  are  never  lost  in  the  manners,  the  incidents,  or  the 
language.      Boursault,  whose  tragedies   are  little   esteemed, 
displayed  some  originality  in  Le  Mercure  Galant.     The  idea 
is  one  which  has  not  unfrequently  been  imitated  on  the  Eng- 
lish as  well  as  French  stage ;  but  it  is  rather  adapted  to  the 
shorter  drama  than  to  a  regular  comedy  of  five  acts.     The 
Mercure   Galant  was  a  famous  magazine  of  light  periodical 
amusement,  such  as  was  then  new  in  France,  which  had  a 


264  DANCOURT  — BRUEYS.  PAKT  IV. 

great  sale,  and  is  described  in  a  few  lines  by  one  of  the  cha- 
racters in  this  piece.1  Boursault  places  his  hero,  by  the  edi- 
tor's consent,  as  a  temporary  substitute  in  the  office  of  this 
publication;  and  brings,  in  a  series  of  detached  scenes,  a  vari- 
ety of  applicants  for  his  notice.  A  comedy  of  this  kind  is  like 
a  compound  animal :  a  few  chief  characters  must  give  unity 
to  the  whole ;  but  the  effect  is  produced  by  the  successive 
personages  who  pass  over  the  stage,  display  their  humor  in  a 
single  scene,  and  disappear.  Boursault  has  been  in  some 
instances  successful ;  but  such  pieces  generally  owe  too  much 
to  temporary  sources  of  amusement. 

36.  Dancourt,  as  Voltaire  has  said,  holds  the  same  rank 
Dancourt     relatively  to  Moliere  in  farce  that  Regnard  does  in 

the  higher  comedy.  He  came  a  little  after  the  for- 
mer, and  when  the  prejudice  that  had  been  created  against 
comedies  in  prose  by  the  great  success  of  the  other  kind  had 
begun  to  subside.  The  Chevalier  a  la  Mode  is  the  only  play 
of  Dancourt  that  I  know :  it  is  much  above  farce ;  and,  if 
length  be  a  distinctive  criterion,  it  exceeds  most  comedies. 
This  would  be  very  slight  praise,  if  we  could  not  add,  that  the 
reader  does  not  find  it  one  page  too  long ;  that  the  ridicule  is 
poignant  and  happy,  the  incidents  well  contrived,  the  comic 
situations  amusing,  the  characters  clearly  marked.  La  Harpe, 
who  treats  Dancourt  with  a  sort  of  contempt,  does  not  so 
much  as  mention  this  play.  It  is  a  satire  on  the  pretensions 
of  a  class  then  rising,  the  rich  financiers,  which  long  supplied 
materials,  through  dramatic  caricature,  to  public  malignity, 
and  the  envy  of  a  less  opulent  aristocracy. 

37.  The  life  of  Brueys  is  rather  singular.     Born  of  a  noble 
Brue          Huguenot  family,  he  was  early  devoted  to  Protes- 
tant theology,  and  even  presumed  to  enter  the  lists 

against  Bossuet.  But  that  champion  of  the  faith  was  like 
one  of  those  knights  in  romance  who  first  unhorse  their  rash 
antagonists,  and  then  make  them  work  as  slaves.  Brueys 
was  soon  converted,  and  betook  himself  to  write  against  his 
former  errors.  He  afterwards  became  an  ecclesiastic.  Thus 
far,  there  is  nothing  much  out  of  the  common  course  in  his 

1  "  Le  Mercure  est  une  bonne  chose ;  Jainais  livre  4  mon  gre  ne  fut  plus  neces- 

On  y  trouve  de  tout,  fable,  histoire,  vers,  saire."  Act  i.  scene  2. 

proae,  The  Mercure  Galant  was  established  in 

Sieges,  combats,  proces,  mort,  manage,  1672  by  one  Vise :  it  was  intemleil  to  fill 

amour,  the  same  place  as  a  critical  record  of  polite 

Nouvelles  de  province,  et  nouyelles  de  literature  which  the  Journal  des  Scavans 

cour  —  did  in  learning  and  science 


CHAP.  VI.  QUINAULT  — ENGLISH  DRAMA.  265 

history.  But,  grown  weary  of  living  alone,  and  having  some 
natural  turn  to  comedy,  he  began,  rather  late,  to  write  for  the 
stage,  with  the  assistance,  or  perhaps  only  under  the  name,  of 
a  certain  Palaprat.  The  plays  of  Brueys  had  some  success : 
but  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  delineate  recent  manners ;  and 
in  the  only  comedy  with  which  I  am  acquainted,  Le  Muet,  he 
has  borrowed  the  leading  part  of  his  story  from  Terence. 
The  language  seems  deficient  in  vivacity,  which,  when  there 
is  no  great  naturalness  or  originality  of  character,  cannot  be 
dispensed  with. 

38.  The  French  opera,  after  some  ineffectual  attempts  by 
Mazarin  to  naturalize  an  Italian  company,  was  sue-  operas  of 
cessfully  established  by  Lulli  in  1672.  It  is  the  Qui™ult- 
prerogative  of  music  in  the  melodrame  to  render  poetry  its 
dependent  ally  ;  but  the  airs  of  Lulli  have  been  forgotten,  and 
the  verses  of  his  coadjutor  Quinault  remain.  He  is  not  only 
the  earliest,  but,  by  general  consent,  the  unrivalled,  poet  of 
French  music.  Boileau,  indeed,  treated  him  with  undeserved 
scorn,  but  probably  through  dislike  of  the  tone  he  was  obliged 
to  preserve,  which  in  the  eyes  of  so  stern  a  judge,  and  one  so 
insensible  to  love,  appeared  languid  and  effeminate.  Quinault, 
nevertheless,  was  not  incapable  of  vigorous  and  impressive 
poetry ;  a  lyric  grandeur  distinguishes  some  of  his  songs  ;  he 
seems  to  possess  great  felicity  of  adorning  every  subject  with 
appropriate  imagery  and  sentiment;  his  versification  has  a 
smoothness,  and  charm  of  melody,  which  has  made  some  say 
that  the  lines  were  already  music  before  they  came  to  the 
composer's  hands ;  his  fables,  whether  taken  from  mythology 
or  modern  romance,  display  invention  and  skill.  Voltaire, 
La  Harpe,  Schlegel,  and  the  author  of  the  Life  of  Quinault 
in  the  Biographic  Universelle,  but,  most  of  all,  the  testimony 
of  the  public,  have  compensated  for  the  severity  of  Boileau. 
The  Armide  is  Quinault's  latest  and  also  his  finest  opera. 


SECT.  II. — ON  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA. 

State  of  the  Stage  after  the  Restoration  —  Tragedies  of  Dryden,  Otway,  Southern  — 
Comedies  of  Congreve  and  others. 

39.  THE  troubles  of  twenty  years,  and,  much  more,  the 
fanatical  antipathy  to  stage-plays  which  the  predominant  party 


2 66  CHANGE  OF  PUBLIC  TASTE.  PAKT  IV. 

affected,  silenced  the  muse  of  the  buskin,  and  broke  the  con- 
Hevivaiof  tinuity  of  those  works  of  the  elder  dramatists,  which 
the  English  had  given  a  tone  to  public  sentiment  as  to  the  drama 

ltre'  from  the  middle  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  Davenant 
had,  by  a  sort  of  connivance,  opened  a  small  house  for  the 
representation  of  plays,  though  not  avowedly  so  called,  near 
the  Charter  House,  in  1656.  He  obtained  a  patent  after  the 
Restoration.  By  this  time  another  generation  had  arisen,  and 
the  scale  of  taste  was  to  be  adjusted  anew.  The  fondness 
for  the  theatre  revived  with  increased  avidity :  more  splendid 
decoration ;  actors  probably,  especially  Betterton,  of  greater 
powers ;  and,  above  all,  the  attraction  of  female  performers, 
who  had  never  been  admitted  on  the  older  stage,  —  conspired 
with  the  keen  appetite  that  long  restraint  produced,  and  with 
the  general  gayety,  or  rather  dissoluteness,  of  manners.  Yet 
the  multitude  of  places  for  such  amusement  was  not  as  great 
as  under  the  first  Stuarts.  Two  houses  only  were  opened 
under  royal  patents,  granting  them  an  exclusive  privilege : 
one  by  what  was  called  the  King's  Company,  in  Drury  Lane ; 
another  by  the  Duke  of  York's  Company,  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields.  Betterton,  who  was  called  the  English  Roscius,  till 
Garrick  claimed  that  title,  was  sent  to  Paris  by  Charles  II. , 
that,  taking  a  view  of  the  French  stage,  he  might  better  judge 
of  what  would  contribute  to  the  improvement  of  our  own.  It 
has  been  said,  and  probably  with  truth,  that  he  introduced 
movable  scenes,  instead  of  the  fixed  tapestry  that  had  been 
hung  across  the  stage ;  but  this  improvement  he  could  not 
have  borrowed  from  France.  The  king  not  only  counte- 
nanced the  theatre  by  his  patronage,  but  by  so  much  personal 
notice  of  the  chief  actors,  and  so  much  interest  in  all  the 
affairs  of  the  theatre,  as  elevated  their  condition. 

40.  An  actor  of  great  talents  is  the  best  friend  of  the  great 
Change  of  dramatists:  his  own  genius  demands  theirs  for  its 
puMic  support  and  display  ;  and  a  fine  performer  would  as 
soon  waste  the  powers  of  his  hand  on  feeble  music, 
as  a  man  like  Betterton  or  Garrick  represent  what  is  insipid 
or  in  bad  taste.  We  know  that  the  former,  and  some  of  his 
contemporaries,  were  celebrated  in  the  great  parts  of  our 
early  stage,  in  those  of  Shakspeare  and  Fletcher.  But  the 
change  of  public  taste  is  sometimes  irresistible  by  those  who, 
as,  in  Johnson's  antithesis,  they  "  live  to  please,  must  please 
to  live."  Neither  tragedy  nor  comedy  was  maintained  at  its 


CHAP.  YI.  HEROIC  TRAGEDIES  OF  DRTDKST.  267 

proper  level ;  and,  as  the  -world  is  apt  to  demand  novelty  on 
the  stage,  the  general  tone  of  dramatic  representation  in  tliis 
period,  whatever  credit  it  may  have  done  to  the  performers, 
reflects  little,  in  comparison  with  our  golden  age,  upon  those 
who  wrote  for  them. 

41.  It  is  observed  by  Scott,  that  the  French  theatre,  which 
was  now  thought  to  be  in  perfection,  guided  the  criti- 
cism  of  Charles's  court,  and  afforded  the  pattern  of 
those  tragedies  which  continued  in  fashion  for  twenty  years 
after  the  Restoration,  and  which  were  called  rhyming  or 
heroic  plays.  Though  there  is  a  general  justice  in  this  re- 
mark, I  am  not  aware  that  the  inflated  tone  of  these  plays  is 
imitated  from  any  French  tragedy :  certainly  there  was  a 
nobler  model  in  the  best  works  of  Corneille.  But  Scott' is 
more  right  in  deriving  the  unnatural  and  pedantic  dialogue 
which  prevailed  through  these  performances  from  the  roman- 
ces of  Scudery  and  Calprenede.  These  were,  about  the  era 
of  the  Restoration,  almost  as  popular  among  our  indolent 
gentry  as  in  France ;  and  it  was  to  be  expected  that  a  style 
would  gain  ground  in  tragedy,  which  is  not  so  widely  removed 
from  what  tragedy  requires,  but  that  an  ordinary  audience 
would  fail  to  perceive  the  difference.  There  is  but  a  narrow 
line  between  the  sublime  and  the  tumid :  the  man  of  business 
or  of  pleasure  who  frequents  the  theatre  must  have  accus- 
tomed himself  to  make  such  large  allowances,  to  put  himself 
into  a  state  of  mind  so  totally  different  from  his  every-day 
habits,  that  a  little  extraordinary  deviation  from  nature,  far 
from  shocking  him,  will  rather  show  like  a  further  advance 
towards  excellence.  Hotspur  and  Almanzor,  Richard  and 
Aurungzebe,  seem  to  him  cast  in  the  same  mould ;  beings 
•who  can  never  occur  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  but  whom 
the  tragedian  has.  by  a  tacit  convention  with  the  audience, 
acquired  a  right  of  feigning  like  his  ghosts  and  witches, 

42.  The  first  tragedies  of  Dryden  were  what  was  called 
heroic,  and  written  in  rhyme ;  an  innovation  which,  Ueroic 
of  course,  must  be  ascribed  to  the  influence  of  the  tragedies  of 
French  theatre.     They  have  occasionally  much  vigor 
of  sentiment  and  much  beautiful  poetry,  with  a  versification 
sweet  even  to  lusciousness.     The  Conquest  of  Grenada  i>.  on 
account  of  its  extravagance,   the   most   celebrated   of  these 
plays  ;  but  it  is  inferior  to  the  Indian  Emperor,  from  which  it 
would  be  easy  to  select  passages  of  perfect  elegance.     It  is 


268  DON  SEBASTIAN.  PAKT  IV. 

singular,  that,  although  the  rhythm  of  dramatic  verse  is  com- 
monly permitted  to  be  the  most  lax  of  any,  Dryden  has  in 
this  play  availed  himself  of  none  of  his  wonted  privileges. 
He  regularly  closes  the  sense  with  the  couplet,  and  falls  into 
a  smoothness  of  cadence,  which,  though  exquisitely  mellifluous, 
is  perhaps  too  uniform.  In  the  Conquest  of  Grenada,  the 
versification  is  rather  more  broken. 

43.  Dryden  may  probably  have  been  fond  of  this  species  of 
His  later  tragedy,  on  account  of  his  own  facility  in  rhyming, 
tragedies.  an(j  fas  na^jt  of  condensing  his  sense.  Rhyme,  in- 
deed, can  only  be  rejected  in  our  language  from  the  tragic 
scene,  because  blank  verse  affords  wider  scope  for  the  emo- 
tions it  ought  to  excite ;  but,  for  the  tumid  rhapsodies  which 
the  personages  of  his  heroic  plays  utter,  there  can  be  no  ex- 
cuse. He  adhered  to  this  tone,  however,  till  the  change  in 
public  taste,  and  especially  the  ridicule  thrown  on  his  own 
plays  by  the  Rehearsal,  drove  him  to  adopt  a  very  different, 
though  not  altogether  faultless,  style  of  tragedy.  His  princi- 
pal works  of  this  latter  class  are,  All  for  Love,  in  1 678  ;  the 
Spanish  Friar,  commonly  referred  to  1 682 ;  and  Don  Sebas- 
tian, in  1690.  Upon  these  the  dramatic  fame  of  Dryden  is 
built;  while  the  rants  of  Almanzor  and  Maximin  are  never 
mentioned  but  in  ridicule.  The  chief  excellence  of  the  first 
tragedy  appears  to  consist  in  the  beauty  of  the  language,  that 
of  the  second  in  the  interest  of  the  story,  and  that  of  the  third 
in  the  highly  finished  character  of  Dorax.  Dorax  is  the  best 
of  Dryden's  tragic  characters,  and  perhaps  the  only  one  in 
which  he  has  applied  his  great  knowledge  of  the  human  mind 
to  actual  delineation.  It  is  highly  dramatic,  because  formed 
of  those  complex  passions  which  may  readily  lead  either 
to  virtue  or  to  vice,  and  which  the  poet  can  manage  so  as  to 
surprise  the  spectator  without  transgressing  consistency.  The 
Zanga  of  Young,  a  part  of  some  theatrical  effect,  has  been 
Don  Sebas-  compounded  of  this  character,  and  of  that  of  lago. 
But  Don  Sebastian  is  as  imperfect  as  all  plays  must 
be  in  which  a  single  personage  is  thrown  forward  in  too 
strong  relief  for  the  rest.  The  language  is  full  of  that  rant 
which  characterized  Dryden's  earlier  tragedies,  and  to  which 
a  natural  predilection  seems,  after  some  interval,  to  have 
brought  him  back.  Sebastian  himself  may  seem  to  have  been 
intended  as  a  contrast  to  Muley  Moloch ;  but,  if  the  author 
had  any  rule  to  distinguish  the  blustering  of  the  hero  from 


CHAP.  VI.  SPAXISH  FRIAR.  265 

that  of  the  tyrant,  he  has  not  left  the  use  of  it  in  his  reader's 
hands.  The  plot  of  this  tragedy  is  ill  conducted,  especially  in 
the  fifth  act.  Perhaps  the  delicacy  of  the  present  age  may 
have  been  too  fastidious  in  excluding  altogether  from  the 
drama  this  class  of  fables ;  because  they  may  often  excite 
great  interest,  give  scope  to  impassioned  poetry,  and  are  admi- 
rably calculated  for  the  uvayvupuus,  or  discovery,  which  is  so 
much  dwelt  upon  by  the  critics :  nor  can  the  story  of  OEdipus, 
which  has  furnished  one  of  the  finest  and  most  artful  tragedies 
ever  written,  be  well  thought  an  improper  subject  even  for 
representation.  But  they  require,  of  all  others,  to  be  dexter- 
ously managed :  they  may  make  the  main  distress  of  a  trage- 
dy, but  not  an  episode  in  it.  Our  feelings  revolt  at  seeing,  as 
in  Don  Sebastian,  an  incestuous  passion  brought  forward 
as  the  make-weight  of  a  plot,  to  eke  out  a  fifth  act,  and  to 
dispose  of  those  characters  whose  fortune  the  main  story  has 
not  quite  wound  up. 

44.  The  Spanish  Friar  has  been  praised  for  what  Johnson 
calls  the  "  happy  coincidence  and  coalition  of  the  two  Spanish 
plots."  It  is  difficult  to  understand  what  can  be  Friar- 
meant  by  a  compliment  which  seems  either  ironical  or  igno- 
rant. Nothing  can  be  more  remote  from  the  truth.  The 
artifice  of  combining  two  distinct  stories  on  the  stage  is,  we 
may  suppose,  either  to  interweave  the  incidents  of  one  into 
those  of  the  other,  or,  at  least,  so  to  connect  some  characters 
with  each  intrigue,  as  to  make  the  spectator  fancy  them  less 
distinct  than  they  are.  Thus,  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  the 
courtship  of  Bassanio  and  Portia  is  happily  connected  with 
the  main  plot  of  Antonio  and  Shylock  by  two  circumstances : 
it  is  to  set  Bassanio  forward  in  his  suit  that  the  fatal  bond  is 
first  given ;  and  it  is  by  Portia's  address  that  its  forfeiture 
is  explained  away.  The  same  play  affords  an  instance  of 
another  kind  of  underplot,  that  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  which 
is  more  episodical,  and  might  perhaps  be  removed  without 
any  material  loss  to  the  fable ;  though  even  this  serves  ta 
account  for.  we  do  not  say  to  palliate,  the  vindictive  exaspera- 
tion of  the  Jew.  But  to  which"  of  these  do  the  comic  scenes 
in  the  Spanish  Friar  bear  most  resemblance  ?  Certainly  tc 
the  latter.  They  consist  entirely  of  an  intrigue  which  Loren- 
zo, a  young  officer,  carries  on  with  a  rich  usurer's  wife ;  but 
there  is  not,  even  by  accident,  any  relation  between  his  adven- 
tures and  the  love  and  murder  which  go  forward  in  the 


270  OTWAY.  PART  IV. 

palace.  The  Spanish  Friar,  so  far  as  it  is  a  comedy,  is  reck- 
oned the  best  performance  of  Dryden  in  that  line.  Father 
Dominic  is  very  amusing,  and  has  been  copied  very  freely  by 
succeeding  dramatists,  especially  in  the  Duenna.  But  Dry- 
den  has  no  great  abundance  of  wit  in  this  or  any  of  his  come- 
dies. His  jests  are  practical,  and  he  seems  to  have  written 
more  for  the  eye  than  the  ear.  It  may  be  noted  as  a  proof  of 
this,  that  his  stage-directions  are  unusually  full.  In  point 
of  diction,  the  Spanish  Friar  in  its  tragic  scenes,  and  All  for 
Love,  are  certainly  the  best  plays  of  Dryden.  They  are  the 
least  infected  with  his  great  fault,  bombast ;  and  should  per- 
haps be  read  over  and  over  by  those  who  would  learn  the  true 
tone  of  English  tragedy.  In  dignity,  in  animation,  in  striking 
images  and  figures,  there  are  few  or  none  that  excel  them  : 
the  power  indeed  of .  impressing  sympathy,  or  commanding 
tears,  was  seldom  placed  by  nature  within  the  reach  of  Dry- 
den. 

45.  The  Orphan  of  Otway,  and  his  Venice  Preserved,  will 
generally  be  reckoned  the  best  tragedies  of  this 
period.  They  have  both  a  deep  pathos,  springing 
from  the  intense  and  unmerited  distress  of  women ;  beth,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  have  a  dramatic  eloquence,  rapid  and  flowing, 
with  less  of  turgid  extravagance  than  we  find  in  Otway's  con- 
temporaries, and  sometimes  with  very  graceful  poetry.  The 
story  of  the  Orphan  is  domestic,  and  borrowed,  as  I  believe, 
from  some  French  novel,  though  I  do  not  at  present  remem- 
ber where  I  have  read  it :  it  was  once  popular  on  the  stage, 
and  gave  scope  for  good  acting,  but  is  unpleasing  to  the  deli- 
cacy of  our  own  age.  Venice  Preserved  is  more  frequently 
represented  than  any  tragedy  after  those  of  Shakspeare ;  the 
plot  is  highly  dramatic  in  conception  and  conduct:  even  what 
seems,  when  we  read  it,  a  defect, — the' shifting  of  our  wfehes, 
or  perhaps  rather  of  our  ill  wishes,  between  two  parties,  the 
senate  and  the  conspirators,  who  are  redeemed  by  no  virtue, — 
does  not,  as  is  shown  by  experience,  interfere  with  the  specta- 
tor's interest.  Pierre,  indeed,  is  one  of  those  villains  for  whom 
it  is  easy  to  excite  the  sympathy  of  the  half-principled  and 
the  inconsiderate.  But.the  great  attraction  is  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Belvidera;  and,  when  that  part  is  represented  by  ?ii"h 
as  we  remember  to  have  seen,  no  tragedy  is  honored  by 
such  a  tribute,  not  of  tears  alone,  but  of  more  agony  than 
many  would  seek  to  endure.  The  versification  of  Otway,  like 


CHAP.  VI.      SOUTHERN  —  LEE  —  COXGREVE.          271 

that  of  most  in  this  period,  runs,  almost  to  an  excess,  into  the 
line  of  eleven  syllables  ;  sometimes  also  into  the  sdrucciolo 
form,  or  twelve  syllables  with  a  dactylic  close.  These  give  a 
considerable  animation  to  tragic  verse. 

46.  Southern's  Fatal  Discovery,  latterly  represented  under 
the  name  of  Isabella,  is  almost  as  familiar  to  the   „ 
lovers  of  our  theatre  as  Venice    Preserved   itself; 

and  for  the  same  reason,  —  that,  whenever  an  actress  of  great 
tragic  powers  arises,  the  part  of  Isabella  is  as  fitted  to  exhibit 
them  as  that  of  Belvidera.  The  choice  and  conduct  of  the 
story  are,  however,  Southern's  chief  merits ;  for  there  is  little 
vigor  in  the  language,  though  it  is  natural,  and  free  from  the 
usual  faults  of  his  age.  A  similar  character  may  be  given  to 
his  other  tragedy,  Oroonoko ;  in  which  Southern  deserves  the 
praise  of  having,  first  of  any  English  writer,  denounced  the 
traffic  in  slaves,  and  the  cruelties  of  their  West-Indian  bond- 
age. The  moral  feeling  is  high  in  this  tragedy,  and  it  has 
sometimes  been  acted  with  a  certain  success ;  but  the  execu- 
tion is  not  that  of  a  superior  dramatist.  Of  Lee 
nothing  need  be  said,  but  that  he  is,  in  spite  of  his 
proverbial  extravagance,  a  man  of  poetical  mind  and  some 
dramatic  skill.  But  he  has  violated  historic  truth  in  Theodo- 
sius,  without  gaining  much  by  invention.  The  Mourning 
Bride  of  Congreve  is  written  in  prolix  declamation,  _, 

.  ,  •  T   i  •  11     CongreTe. 

with  no  power  over  the  passions.  Johnson  is  well 
known  to  have  praised  a  few  lines  in  this  tragedy  as  among 
the  finest  descriptions  in  the  language ;  while  others,  by  a  sort 
of  contrariety,  have  spoken  of  them  as  worth  nothing.  Truth 
is  in  its  usual  middle  path:  many  better  passages  may  be 
found ;  but  they  are  well  written  and  impressive.1 

47.  In  the  early  English  comedy,  we  find  a  large  intermix- 
ture of  obscenity  in  the  lower  characters,  nor  always  comedies  of 
vonfined  to  them,  with  no  infrequent  scenes  of  licen-  Charles 
tious  incident  and  language.     But  these  are  invaria- 
bly so  brought  forward  as  to  manifest  the  dramatist's  scorn  of 
vice,  and  to  excite  no  other  sentiment  in  a  spectator  of  even 
an  ordinary  degree  of  moral  purity.     In  the  plays  that  ap- 
peared after  the  Restoration,  and  that  from  the  beginning,  a 
different  tone  was  assumed.     Vice  was  in  her  full  career  on 
the  stage,  unchecked  by  reproof,  unshamed  by  contrast,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  unpunished  by  mortification  at  the  close 

1  Mourning  Bride,  act  ii.  scene  3 ;  Johnson's  Life  of  Congrere 


272  WYCHERLEY.  PART  IV. 

Nor  are  these  less  coarse  in  expression,  or  less  impudent  in 
their  delineation  of  low  debauchery,  than  those  of  the  preced- 
ing period.     It  may  be  observed,  on  the  contrary,  that  they 
rarely  exhibit  the  manners  of  truly  polished  life,  according  to 
any  notions  we  can  frame  of  them ;  and  are,  in  this  respect, 
much  below  those  of  Fletcher,  Massinger,  and  Shirley.     It 
might  not  be  easy,  perhaps,  to  find  a  scene  in  any  comedy  of 
Charles  II.'s  reign  where  one  character  has  the  behavior  of  a 
gentleman,  in  the  sense  which  we  attach  to  the  word.     Yet 
the  authors  of  these  were  themselves  in  the  world,  and  some- 
times men  of  family  and   considerable   station.     The  cause 
must  be  found  in  the  state  of  society  itself,  debased  as  well  as 
corrupted  ;  partly  by  the  example  of  the  court ;  partly  by  the 
practice  of  living  in  taverns,  which  became  much  more  invete- 
rate after  the  Restoration  than  before.     The  contrast  with  the 
manners  of  Paris,  as  far  as  the  stage  is  their  mirror,  does  not 
tell  to  our  advantage.     These  plays,  as  it  may  be  expected, 
do  not  aim  at  the  higher  glories  of  comic  writing :    they  dis- 
play no  knowledge  of  nature,  nor  often   rise   to   any  other 
conception  of  character  than  is  gained  by  a  caricature  of  some 
known  class,  or  perhaps  of  some  remarkable  individual.     Nor 
do  they  in  general  deserve  much  credit  as  comedies  of  in- 
trigue :   the  plot  is  seldom  invented  with  much  care  for  its 
development ;  and  if  scenes  follow  one  another  in  a  series  of 
diverting  incidents,  if  the  entanglements  are  such  as  produce 
laughter,  above  all,  if  the  personages  keep  up  a  well-sustained 
battle  of  repartee,  the  purpose  is  sufficiently  answered.     It  is 
in  this  that  they  often  excel :  some  of  them  have  considerable 
humor  in  the  representation  of  character,  though  this  may  not 
be  very  original ;  and  a  good  deal  of  wit  in  their  dialogue. 

48.  Wycherley  is  remembered  for  two  comedies,  the  Plain 
Wycherie  Dealer  and  the  Country  Wife ;  the  latter  represented 
with  some  change,  in  modern  times,  under  the  name 
of  the  Country  Girl.  The  former  has  been  frequently  said 
to  be  taken  from  the  Misanthrope  of  Moliere ;  but  this,  like 
many  current  assertions,  seems  to  have  little  if  any  founda- 
tion. Manly,  the  Plain  Dealer,  is,  like  Alceste,  a  speaker 
of  truth ;  but  the  idea  is  at  least  one  which  it  was  easy  to 
conceive  without  plagiarism,  and  there  is  not  the  slightest 
resemblance  in  any  circumstance  or  scene  of  the  two  come- 
dies. We  cannot  say  the  same  of  the  Country  Wife ;  it  was 
evidently  suggested  by  L'Ecole  des  Femmes :  the  character 


CHAT.  VI  CONGREVE.  273 

of  Arnolphe  has  been  copied ;  but  even  here  the  whole  con- 
dvi'-t  of  tlie  piece  of  Wycherley  is  his  own.  It  is  more 
artificial  than  that  of  Moliere,  wherein  too  much  passes  in 
description ;  the  part  of  Agnes  is  rendered  still  more  poig- 
nant ;  and,  among  the  comedies  of  Charles's  reign,  I  am  not 
sure  that  it  is  surpassed  by  any. 

49.  Shadwell  and  Etherege,  and  the  famous  Afra  Behn, 
have  endeavored  to  make  the  stage   as  grossly  immoral   as 
their  talents  permitted ;  but  the  two  former,  especially  Shad- 
well,  are  not  destitute  of  humor.     At  the  death  of  Charles,  it 
had  reached  the  lowest  point:   after  the  Revolution, 

it  became  not  much  more  a  school  of  virtue,  but  nient°&fter 
rather  a  better  one  of  polished  manners,  than  be-  JtoRevo- 

_  ,  -IT  •  •  luQon. 

fore ;    and  certainly  drew  to  its  service  some  men 
of  comic  genius  whose  names  are  now  not  only  very  familiar 
to  our  ears,  as  the  boasts  of  our  theatre,  but  whose  works 
have  not  all  ceased  to  enliven  its  walls. 

50.  Congreve,  by  the  Old  Bachelor,  written,  as  some  have 
said,  at  twenty-one  years  of  age,  but  in  fact  not  quite 

so  soon,  and  represented  in  1693,  placed  himself  at 
once  in  a  rank  which  he  has  always  retained.  Though  not, 
I  think,  the  first,  he  is  undeniably  among  the  first  names. 
The  Old  Bachelor  was  quickly  followed  by  the  Double 
Dealer,  and  that  by  Love  for  Love,  in  which  he  reached  the 
summit  of  his  reputation.  The  last  of  his  four  comedies, 
the  Way  of  the  World,  is  said  to  have  been  coldly  received ; 
for  which  it  is  hard  to  assign  any  substantial  cause,  unless  it 
be  some  want  of  sequence  in  the  plot.  The  peculiar  excel- 
lence of  Congreve  is  his  wit,  incessantly  sparkling  from  the 
lips  of  almost  every  character ;  but  on  this  account  it  is  accom- 
panied by  want  of  nature  and  simplicity.  Nature,  indeed,  and 
simplicity  do  not  belong  as  proper  attributes  to  that  comedy 
which,  itself  the  creature  of  an  artificial  society,  has  for  its 
proper  business  to  exaggerate  the  affectation  and  hollowness 
of  the  world.  A  critical  code  which  should  require  the  com- 
edy of  polite  life  to  be  natural  would  make  it  intolerable. 
But  there  are  limits  of  deviation  from  likeness,  which  even 
caricature  must  not  transgress  ;  and  the  type  of  truth  should 
always  regulate  the  playful  aberrations  of  an  inventive  pen- 
cil. The  manners  of  Congreve's  comedies  are  not,  to  us  at 
least,  like  those  of  reality :  I  am  not  sure  that  we  have  any 
cause  to  suppose  that  they  much  better  represent  the  times 

VOL.   IV.  18 


274  LOVE  FOR  LOVE.  TART  IV 

in  which  they  appeared.  His  characters,  with  an  exception  or 
two,  are  heartless  and  vicious ;  which,  on  being  attacked  by 
Collier,  he  justified,  probably  by  an  afterthought,  on  the 
authority  of  Aristotle's  definition  of  comedy ;  that  it  is  plpian 
Qavtorepuv,  an  imitation  of  what  is  the  worse  in  human  nature.1 
But  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that,  more  than  any  preceding 
writer  among  us,  he  kept  up  the  tone  of  a  gentleman ;  his 
men  of  the  world  are  profligate,  but  not  coarse ;  he  rarely, 
like  Shadwell,  or  even  Dryden,  caters  for  the  populace  of  the 
theatre  by  such  indecencies  as  they  must  understand ;  he 
gave,  in  fact,  a  tone  of  refinement  to  the  public  taste,  which 
it  never  lost,  and  which,  in  its  progression,  has  almost  ban- 
ished his  own  comedies  from  the  stage. 

51.  Love  for  Love  is  generally  reputed  the  best  of  these. 
ix>vefor      Congreve  has  never  any  great  success  in  the  eon- 
LoTe-          ception   or   management  of  his   plot ;    but  in   this 
comedy  there  is  least  to  censure :    several  of  the  characters 
are  exceedingly  humorous ;    the  incidents  are  numerous  and 
not  complex ;  the  wit  is  often  admirable.     Angelica  and  Miss 
Prue,  Ben  and  Tattle,  have  been  repeatedly  imitated ;    but 
they  have,  I  think,  a  considerable  degree  of  dramatic  origi- 
nality in  themselves.     Johnson  has  observed,  that  "  Ben  the 
sailor  is  not  reckoned  over-natural,  but  he  is  very  diverting.'* 
Possibly  he  may  be  quite  as  natural  a  portrait  of  a  mere 
sailor  as  that  to  which  we  have  become   used  in   modern 
comedy. 

52.  The  Way  of  the  "World  I  should  perhaps  incline  to  place 
His  other     next  to  this :  the  coquetry  of  Millamant,  not  without 
comedies.     some  touches  of  delicacy  and  affection,  the  imperti- 
nent coxcombry  of  Petulant  and  Witwood,  the  mixture  of 
wit   and   ridiculous  vanity  in    Lady  "Wishfort,  are  amusing 
to   the  reader.      Congreve  has  here    made    more   use  than, 
as  far  as   I   remember,  had  been   common  in  England,   of 
the  all-important  soubrette,  on  whom   so  much  depends  in 
French  comedy.     The  manners  of  France  happily  enabled  her 
dramatists  to  improve  what  they  had  borrowed  with  signal  suc- 
cess from  the  ancient  stage,  —  the  witty  and  artful  servant, 
faithful  to  his  master  while  he  deceives  every  one  besides,  —  by 
adding  this  female  attendant,  not  less  versed  in  every  artifice, 
nor  less  quick  in  repartee.     Mincing  and  Foible,  in  this  play 
of  Congreve,  are  good  specimens  of  the  class ;  but,  speaking 

1  Congreve's  Amendments  of  Mr.  Collier's  false  citations. 


CHAP.  VI.        FARQUHAR  — VAXBRUGH.  275 

with  some  hesitation,  I  do  not  think  they  will  be  found,  at 
least  not  so  naturally  drawn,  in  the  comedies  of  Charles's 
time.  Many  would,  perhaps  not  without  cause,  prefer  the  Old 
Bachelor,  which  abounds  with  wit,  but  seems  rather  deficient 
in  originality  of  character  and  circumstance.  The  Double 
Dealer  is  entitled  to  the  same  praise  of  wit ;  and  some  of  the 
characters,  though  rather  exaggerated,  are  amusing :  but  the 
plot  is  so  entangled  towards  the  conclusion,  that  I  have  found 
it  difficult,  even  in  reading,  to  comprehend  it. 

53.  Congreve  is  not  superior  to  Farquhar  and  Vanbrugh, 
if  we  might  compare  the  whole  of  their  works.  Farquhar; 
Never  has  he  equalled  in  vivacity,  in  originality  of  VanbrQgh- 
contrivance,  or  in  clear  and  rapid  development  of  intrigue, 
the  Beaux'  Stratagem  of  the  one,  and  much  less  the  admira- 
ble delineation  of  the  Wronghead  family  in  the  Provoked 
Husband  of  the  other.  But  these  were  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Farquhar's  Trip  to  the  Jubilee,  though  once  a  popu- 
lar comedy,  is  not  distinguished  by  more  than  an  easy  flow 
of  wit,  and  perhaps  a  little  novelty  in  some  of  the  characters : 
it  is  indeed  written  in  much  superior  language  to  the  plays 
anterior  to  the  Revolution.  But  the  Relapse  and  the  Pro- 
voked Wife  of  Vanbrugh  have  attained  a  considerable  reputa- 
tion. In  the  former,  the  character  of  Amanda  is  interesting, 
especially  in  the  momentary  wavering  and  quick  recovery  of 
her  virtue.  This  is  the  first  homage  that  the  theatre  had  paid, 
since  the  Restoration,  to  female  chastity  ;  and  notwithstanding 
the  vicious  tone  of  the  other  characters,  in  which  Vanbrugh 
has  gone  as  great  lengths  as  any  of  his  contemporaries,  we 
perceive  the  beginnings  of  a  re-action  in  public  spirit,  which 
gradually  reformed  and  elevated  the  moral  standard  of  the 
stage.1  The  Provoked  Wife,  though  it  cannot  be  said  to 
give  any  proofs  of  this  sort  of  improvement,  has  some  merit 
as  a  comedy ;  it  is  witty  and  animated,  as  Vanbrugh  usually 
was  ;  the  character  of  Sir  John  Brute  may  not  have  been  too 
great  a  caricature  of  real  manners,  such  as  survived  from 
the  debased  reign  of  Charles  ;  and  the  endeavor  to  expose  the 
gnjssness  of  the  older  generation  was  itself  an  evidence,  that 
a  better  polish  had  been  given  to  social  life. 

1  This  purification   of  English  comedy  go  along,  in  *  considerable  decree,  with 

has  sometimes  been  attributed  to  the  ef-  Collier,    his    animadversions  could    have 

fects  of  a  famous  essay  by  Collier  on  the  produced  little  change.     In  point  of  fact. 

Immorality  of  the  English  stage.     But  if  the    subsequent    improvement    was    but 

public  opinion  had  not  been  prepared  to  alow,  and  for  some  years  rather  shown  in 


276  POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  PROSE.  PART  IV 


CHAPTER  VH. 

HISTORY  OP  POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  PROSE  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Italy  —  High  Refinement  of  French  Language  —  Fontenelle  —  St.  Eyremond  —  Se- 
vigne —  Bouhoursand  Rapin  —  Miscellaneous  Writers  —  English  Style  and  Criticism 
— Dry  den. 

1.  IP  Italy  could  furnish  no  long  list  of  conspicuous  names 
LOW  state     *n  ^s  department  of  literature  to  our  last  period, 
of  literature  she  is  far  more  deficient  in  the  present.     The  Prose 

ttaiy.  Florentine  of  Dati,  a  collection  of  what  seemed  the 
best  specimens  of  Italian  eloquence  in  this  century,  served 
chiefly  to  prove  its  mediocrity ;  nor  has  that  editor,  by  his  own 
panegyric  on  Louis  XIV.  or  any  other  of  his  writings,  been 
able  to  redeem  its  name.1  The  sermons  of  Segneri  have 
already  been  mentioned :  the  eulogies  bestowed  on  them  seem 
to  be  founded,  in  some  measure,  on  the  surrounding  barrenness. 
The  letters  of  Magalotti,  and  still  more  of  Redi,  themselves 
philosophers,  and  generally  writing  on  philosophy,  seem  to  do 
more  credit  than  any  thing  else  to  this  period.2 

2.  Crescimbeni,  the  founder  of  the  Arcadian  Society,  has 
Crescim-      made  an  honorable  name  by  his  exertions  to  purify 
bem-          the  national  taste,  as  well  as  by  his  diligence  in  pre- 
serving the  memory  of  better  ages  than  his  own.    His  History 
of  National  Poetry  is  a  laborious  and  useful  work,  to  which  I 
have  sometimes  been  indebted.    His  treatise  on  the  beauty  of 
that  poetry  is  only  known  to  me  through  Salfi.     It  is  written 
in  dialogue,  the  speakers  being  Arcadians.     Anxious  to  extir- 

a  voiding  coarse  Indecencies  than  in  much  ried  this  farther ;  and  the  stage  afterwards 

elevation  of  sentiment.     Steele'R  Conscious  grew  more  and  more  refined,  till  it  became 

Lovers  is  the  first  comedy  which  can  be  languid  and  sentimental, 

called  moral ;   Cibber,  in  those  parts  of  >  Salfi,  xiv.  25  ;  Tiraboschi,  xi.  412. 

the  1'roToked  Husband  that  he  wrote,  car-  2  Salfi,  xiv.  17 ;  Corniani,  vUi.  71. 


CHAP.  Vn.  AGE  OF  LOUIS  XIV.  IX  FRAXCE.  277 

pate  the  school  of  the  Marinists,  without  falling  back  alto- 
gether into  that  of  Petrarch,  he  set  up  Costanzo  as  a  model 
of  poetry.  Most  of  his  precepts,  Salfi  observes,  are  very 
trivial  at  present;  but,  at  the  epoch  of  its  appearance,  his 
work  was  of  great  service  towards  the  reform  of  Italian  lite- 
rature.1 

3.  This  period,  the  second  part  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
comprehends  the  most  considerable,  and  in  every  Ageof 
sense  the  most  important  and  distinguished,  portion  of  Louis  xrv. 
what  was  once  called  the  great  age  in  France,  —  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.  In  this  period,  the  literature  of  France 
was  adorned  by  its  most  brilliant  writers ;  since,  notwith- 
standing the  genius  and  popularity  of  some  who  followed,  we 
generally  find  a  still  higher  place  awarded  by  men  of  fine 
taste  to  Bossuet  and  Pascal  than  to  Voltaire  and  Montesquieu. 
The  language  was  written  with  a  care  that  might  have  fet- 
tered the  powers  of  ordinary  men,  but  rendered  those  of  such 
as  we  have  mentioned  more  resplendent.  The  laws  of  taste 
and  grammar,  like  those  of  nature,  were  held  immutable : 
it  was  the  province  of  human  genius  to  deal  with  them,  as  it 
does  with  nature,  by  a  skilful  employment,  not  by  a  prepos- 
terous and  ineffectual  rebellion  against  their  control.  Purity 
and  perspicuity,  simplicity  and  ease,  were  conditions  of  good 
writing :  it  was  never  thought  that  an  author,  especially  in 
prose,  might  transgress  the  recognized  idiom  of  his  mother- 
tongue,  or  invent  words  unknown  to  it,  for  the  sake  of  effect 
or  novelty ;  or  if,  in  some  rare  occurrence,  so  bold  a  course 
might  be  forgiven,  these  exceptions  were  but  as  miracles  in 
religion,  which  would  cease  to  strike  us,  or  be  no  miracles  at 
all,  but  for  the  regularity  of  the  laws  to  which  they  bear 
witness  even  while  they  infringe  them.  We  have  not  thought 
it  necessary  to  defer  the  praise  which  some  great  French 
writers  have  deserved  on  the  score  of  their  language,  for  this 
chapter.  Bossuet,  Malebranche,  Arnauld,  and  Pascal  have 
already  been  commemorated ;  and  it  is  sufficient  to  point  out 
two  causes  in  perpetual  operation  during  this  period  which 
ennobled,  and  preserved  in  purity,  the  literature  of  France : 
one,  the  salutary  influence  of  the  Academy ;  the  other,  that 
emulation  between  the  Jesuits  and  Jansenists  for  public  es- 
teem, which  was  better  displayed  in  their  politer  writings 
than  in  the  abstruse  and  endless  controversy  of  the  five  pro- 

»  Salfi,  jiiii.  450. 


278  FONTENELLE :   HIS  CHARACTER.  PART  IV. 

positions.  A  few  remain  to  be  mentioned  ;  and  as  the  subject 
of  this  chapter,  in  order  to  avoid  frequent  subdivisions,  is 
miscellaneous,  the  reader  must  expect  to  find  that  we  do  not, 
in  every  instance,  confine  ourselves  to  what  he  may  consider 
as  polite  letters. 

4.  Fontenelle,  by  the  variety  of  his  talents,  by  their  appli- 
Fontcneiie-  ca^on  *o  the  pursuits  most  congenial  to  the  intellect- 
hischurac-  ual  character  of  his   contemporaries,   and   by   that 

extraordinary  longevity  which  made  those  contem- 
poraries not  less  than  three  generations  of  mankind,  may  be 
reckoned  the  best  representative  of  French  literature.  Born 
in  1657,  and  dying  within  a  few  days  of  a  complete  century,  in 
1757,  he  enjoyed  the  most  protracted  life  of  any  among  the 
modern  learned  ;  and  that  a  life  in  the  full  sunshine  of  Pari- 
sian literature,  without  care  and  without  disease.  In  nothing 
was  Fontenelle  a  great  writer :  his  mental  and  moral  disposi- 
tion resembled  each  other ;  equable,  without  the  capacity  of 
performing,  and  hardly  of  conceiving,  any  thing  truly  elevat- 
ed, but  not  less  exempt  from  the  fruits  of  passion,  from  para- 
dox, unreasonableness,  and  prejudice.  His  best  productions 
are,  perhaps,  the  eulogies  on  the  deceased  members  of  the 
Academy  of  Sciences,  which  he  pronounced  during  almost 
forty  years  ;  but  these  nearly  all  belong  to  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury: they  are  just  and  candid,  with  sufficient,  though  not  very 
profound,  knowledge  of  the  exact  sciences,  and  a  style  pure 
and  flowing,  which  his  good  sense  had  freed  from  some  early 
affectation,  and  his  cold  temper  as  well  as  sound  understand- 
ing restrained  from  extravagance.  In  his  first  works,  we 
have  symptoms  of  an  infirmity  belonging  more  frequently  to 
age  than  to  youth ;  but  Fontenelle  was  never  young  in 
passion.  He  there  affects  the  tone  of  somewhat  pedantic  and 
frigid  gallantry  which  seems  to  have  survived  the  society  of 
the  Hotel  Rambouillet  who  had  countenanced  it,  and  which 
borders  too  nearly  on  the  language  which  Moliere  and  his 
disciples  had  well  exposed  in  their  coxcombs  on  the  shii^c. 

5.  The  Dialogues  of  the   Dead,   published   in  1G83,  are 
HU  Dia-       condemned  by  some  critics  for  their  false  taste  and 
loguesof      perpetual  strain  at  something  unexpected  and  para- 
doxical.    The  leading  idea  is,  of  course,  borrowed 

from  Lucian ;  but  Fontenelle  has  aimed  at  greater  poignancy 
by  contrast :  the  ghosts  in  his  dialogues  are  exactly  those 
who  had  least  in  common  with  each  other  in  life ;  and  the 


CHAP.  VII.     DIALOGUES  OF  THE  DEAD  — LES  MOXDES.        27J 

general  object  is  to  bring,  by  some  happy  analogy  which  had 
not  occurred  to  the  reader,  or  by  some  ingenious  defence  of 
what  he  had  been  accustomed  to  despise,  the  prominences 
and  depressions  of  historic  characters  to  a  level.  This  is 
what  is  always  well  received  in  the  kind  of  society  for 
which  Fontenelle  wrote ;  but  if  much  is  mere  sophistry  in 
his  dialogues,  if  the  general  tone  is  little  above  that  of  the 
world,  there  is  also,  what  we  often  find  in  the  world,  some 
acuteness  and  novelty,  and  some  things  put  in  a  light  which  it 
may  be  worth  while  not  to  neglect. 

6.  Fenelon,  not  many  years  afterwards,  copied  the  scheme, 
though  not  the  style,  of  Fontenelle  in  his  own  Dia-   Those  of 
logues  of  the  Dead,  written  for  the  use  of  his  pupil,  B 

the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  Some  of  these  dialogues  are  not 
truly  of  the  dead :  the  characters  speak  as  if  on  earth,  and 
with  earthly  designs.  They  have  certainly  more  solid  sense 
and  a  more  elevated  morality  than  those  of  Fontenelle,  to 
which  La  Harpe  has  preferred  them.  The  noble  zeal  of 
Fenelon  not  to  spare  the  vices  of  kings,  in  writing  for  the 
heir  of  one  so  imperious  and  so  open  to  the  censure  of  reflect- 
ing minds,  shines  throughout  these  dialogues  ;  but,  designed 
as  they  were  for  a  boy,  they  naturally  appear  in  some  places 
rather  superficial. 

7.  Fontenelle  succeeded  better  in  his  famous  dialogues  on 
the  Plurality  of  Worlds,  Les  Mondes ;  hi  which,  if  the  Fonte. 
conception  is  not  wholly  original,  he  has  at  least  de-  neiie's 
veloped  it  with  so  much  spirit  and  vivacity,  that  it  of  "worlds, 
would  show  as  bad  taste  to  censure  his  work,  as  to 
reckon  it  a  model  for  imitation.     It. is  one  of  those  happy 
ideas   which  have   been    privileged   monopolies   of  the   first 
inventor ;  and  it  will  be  found,  accordingly,  that  all  attempts 
to  copy  this  whimsical  union  of  gallantry  with  science  have 
been    insipid    almost    to    a    ridiculous    degree.      Fontenelle 
throws  so  much  gayety  and  wit  into  his  compliments  to  the 
lady  whom  he  initiates  into  his  theory,  that  we  do  not  con- 
found them  with  the  nonsense  of  coxcombs ;  and  she  is  herself 
so  spirited,  unaffected,  and  clever,  that  no  philosopher  could 
be  ashamed  of  gallantry  towards  so  deserving  an  object.     The 
fascinating  paradox,  as  then  it  seemed,  though  our  children 
are  now  taught  to  lisp  it,  that  the  moon,  the  planets,  the  fixed 
stars,  are  full  of  inhabitants,  is  presented  with  no  more  show 
of  science  than  was  indispensable,  but  with  a  varying  liveli- 


280  HISTORY  OF  ORACLES  — ST.  EVREMOND.      PAHT  IV. 

ness,  that,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  consequences,  has  served  to 
convince  as  well  as  amuse.  The  plurality  of  worlds  had  been 
suggested  by  Wilkins,  and  probably  by  some  Cartesiaiis  in 
France ;  but  it  was  first  rendered  a  popular  tenet  by  this 
agreeable  little  book  of  Fontenelle,  which  had  a  great  circula- 
tion in  Europe.  The  ingenuity  with  which  he  obviates  the 
difficulties  that  he  is  compelled  to  acknowledge,  is  worthy  of 
praise;  and  a  good  deal  of  the  popular  truths  of  physical 
astronomy  is  found  in  these  dialogues. 

8.  The  History  of  Oracles,  which  Fontenelle  published  in 
Us  History  1G87,  is  worthy  of  observation   as   a   sign   of  the 
f  Oracles.    cnange  t]iat  was  working  in  literature.     In  the  pro- 
vinces of  erudition  and  of  polite  letters,  long  so  independent, 
perhaps  even  so  hostile,  some  tendency  towards  a  coalition 
began  to  appear.     The   men   of  the  world   especially,  after 
they  had  acquired  a  free  temper  of  thinking  in  religion,  and 
become  accustomed  to  talk  about  philosophy,  desired  to  know 
something  of  the  questions  which  the  learned  disputed  ;  but 
they  demanded  this  knowledge  by  a  short  and  easy  road,  with 
no  great  sacrifice  of  their  leisure  or  attention.     Fontenelle,  in 
the  History  of  Oracles,  as  in  the  dialogues  on  the  Plurality  of 
Worlds,  prepared  a  repast  for  their  taste.     A  learned  Dutch 
physician,  Van  Dale,  in  a  dull  work,  had  taken  up  the  subject 
of  the  ancient  oracles,  and  explained  them  by  human  impos- 
ture instead  of  that  of  the  devil,  which  had  been  the  more 
orthodox  hypothesis.     A  certain  degree  of  paradox,  or  want 
of  orthodoxy,  already  gave  a  zest  to  a  book  in  France ;  and 
Fontenelle's  lively  manner,  with   more  learning    than    good 
society  at  Paris  possessed,  and  about  as  much  as   it   could 
endure,  united  to  a  clear  and  acute  line  of  argument,  created  a 
popularity  for  his  History  of  Oracles,  which  we  cannot  reckon 
altogether  unmerited.1 

9.  The  works  of  St.   Evremond  were  collected  after  his 
St.  Erre-     death  in  1705;  but  many  had  been  printed  before 
mond.         an(j  he  evidently  belongs  to  the  latter  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century.     The  fame  of  St.  Evremond  as  a  bril- 
liant star,  during  a  long  life,  in  the  polished  aristocracy  of 
France  and  England,  gave,  for  a  time,  a  considerable  lustre  to 
his  writings ;  the  greater  part  of  which  are  such  effusions  as 
the  daily  intercourse  of  good  company  called  forth.     In  verse 

1  I  have  not  compared,  or  indeed  read,    gome  of  the  reasoning,  not  the  learning,  of 
t\»le's  work ;   but  I  rather  suspect  that    Fontenelle  is  original. 


CHAP.  VII.  MADAME  DE  SEVIGXE.  281 

or  in  prose,  he  is  the  gallant  friend,  rather  than  lover,  of 
ladies,  who,  secure  probably  of  love  in  some  other  quarter, 
were  proud  of  the  friendship  of  a  wit.  He  never,  to  do  him 
justice,  mistakes  his  character,  which,  as  his  age  was  not  a 
little  advanced,  might  have  incurred  ridicule.  Hortense 
Mancini,  Duchess  of  Mazarin,  is  his  heroine ;  but  we  take 
little  interest  in  compliments  to  a  woman  neither  respected  in 
her  life,  nor  remembered  since.  Nothing  can  be  more  trifling 
than  the  general  character  of  the  writings  of  St.  Evremond : 
but  sometimes  he  rises  to  literary  criticism,  or  even  civil 
history  ;  and  on  such  topics  he  is  clear,  unaffected,  cold,  with- 
out imagination  or  sensibility,  —  a  type  of  the  frigid  being 
whom  an  aristocratic  and  highly  polished  society  is  apt  to 
oroduce.  The  chief  merit  of  St.  Evremond  is  in  his  style  and 
manner.  He  has  less  wit  than  Voiture,  who  contributed  to 
form  him ;  or  than  Voltaire,  whom  he  contributed  to  form 
but  he  shows  neither  the  effort  of  the  former,  nor  the  restless- 
ness of  the  latter.  Voltaire,  however,  when  he  is  most  quiet, 
as  in  the  earliest  and  best  of  his  historical  works,  seems  to 
bear  a  considerable  resemblance  to  St.  Evremond ;  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  familiar  with  the  latter's  writings. 
10.  A  woman  has  the  glory  of  being  full  as  conspicuous  in 
the  graces  of  style  as  any  writer  of  this  famous  age.  Madame 
It  is  evident  that  this  was  Madame*  de  Sevigne.  deSerigne. 
Her  Letters,  indeed,  were  not  published  till  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  they  were  written  in  the  mid-day  of  Louis' 
reign.  Their  ease,  and  freedom  from  affectation-,  are  more 
striking  by  contrast  with  the  two  epistolary  styles  which  had 
been  most  admired  in  France  :  that  of  Balzac,  which  is  labo- 
riously tumid  ;  and  that  of  Voiture,  which  becomes  insipid  by 
dint  of  affectation,  Every  one  perceives,  that,  in  the  Letters 
of  a  mother  to  her  daughter,  the  public,  in  a  strict  sense,  is 
not  thought  of;  and  yet  the  habit  of  speaking  and  writing 
what  men  of  wit  and  taste  would  desire  to  hear  and  read 
gives  a  certain  mannerism,  I  will  not  say  air  of  effort,  even  to 
the  Letters  of  Madame  de  Sevigne.  The  abandonment  of  the 
heart  to  its  casual  impulses  is  not  so  genuine  as  in  some  that 
have  since  been  published.  It  is  at  least  clear,  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  become  affected  in  copying  her  unaffected  style  ;  and 
some  of  Walpole's  letters  bear  witness  to  this.  Her  wit.  and 
talent  of  painting  by  single  touches,  are  very  eminent :  scarce- 
ly any  collection  of  letters,  which  contain  so  little  that  c;m 


282  THE  FRENCH  ACADEMY.  PAHT  IV, 

interest  a  distant  age,  are  read  with  such  pleasure ;  if  they 
have  any  general  fault,  it  is  a  little  monotony,  and  excess  of 
affection  towards  her  daughter,  which  is  reported  to  have 
wearied  its  object,  and,  in  contrast  with  this,  a  little  want  of 
sensibility  towards  all  beyond  her  immediate  friends,  and  a 
readiness  to  find  something  ludicrous  in  the  dangers  and  suf- 
ferings of  others.1 

11.  The  French  Academy  had  been  so  judicious  both  in 
The  French  the  choice  of  its  members,  and  in  ihe  general  tenor 
Academy.  of  ^9  proceedings,  that  it  stood  very  high  in  public 
esteem ;  and  a  voluntary  deference  was  commonly  shown  to  its 
authority.  The  favor  of  Louis  XIV.,  when  he  grew  to  man- 
hood, was  accorded  as  amply  as  that  of  Richelieu.  The 
Academy  was  received  by  the  king,  when  they  approached 
him  publicly,  with  the  same  ceremonies  as  the  superior  courts 
of  justice.  This  body  had,  almost  from  its  commencement, 
undertaken  a  national  dictionary,  which  should  carry  the  lan- 
guage to  its  utmost  perfection,  and  trace  a  road  to  the  highest 
eloquence  that  depended  on  purity  and  choice  of  words : 
more  than  this  could  not  be  given  by  man.  The  work  pro- 
ceeded very  slowly ;  and  dictionaries  were  published  in  the 
mean  time,  —  one  by  Richelet  in  1 680,  another  by  Furetiere. 
The  former  seems  to  be  little  more  than  a  glossary  of  techni- 
cal or  otherwise  doubtful  words ; 2  but  the  latter,  though  pre- 
tending to  contain  only  terms  of  art  and  science,  was  found, 
by  its  definitions  and  by  the  authorities  it  quoted,  to  interfere 
so  much  with  the  project  of  the  academicians,  who  had  armed 
themselves  with  an  exclusive  privilege,  that  they  not  only 
expelled  Furetiere  from  their  body,  on  the  allegation  that  he 
had  availed  himself  of  materials  intrusted  to  him  by  the  Aca- 
demy for  its  own  dictionary,  but  instituted  a  long  process  at 
law  to  binder  its  publication.  This  was  in  1 685 ;  and  the 

1  The    proofs    of    this    are    numerous    raigned  for  slighting  Racine ;  and  she  has 

-nough  in  her  letter!      In  one  of  them,    been  charged  with  the  unfortunate  yredic- 

he  mentions  that  a  Uu/y  of  her  acquaint-    tion :  "  II  passera  comme  le  cafe.1'     But 


AUIM.^.-*  iu.i.~t;ii    uj    i*n\iug    uu    tiie    piuviu-  uii>v;iin:u!itu(m   Ul    luirlulvj*      in  uei    iiin^, 

cial  accent  with  which  she  will  express  Corneille's  party  was  so  well  supported, 

herself  on  the  first  plunge.    She  makes  a  and  he  deserved  so  much  gratitude  and 

ji'-t of  l,a  VoUin's  execution ;  and  though  reverence,  that  we  cannot  much  wonder 

that  person  was  as  little  entitled  to  sym-  at  her  being  carried  a  little  too  far  against 

pathy  as  any  one,  yet,  when  a  woman  is  bis  rival.     Who  has  ever  seen  a  woman 

burned  alive,  it  is  not  usual  for  another  just   towards   the   rivals   of   her  friends, 

uoinnn  to  turn  it  into  drollery.  though  many  are  just  towards  their  own? 
MaJume  de  Sevigmi'i,  taste  has  been  ar-        *  Uoujet ;  Baillut,  u.  702. 


CHAP.  VH.  FRENCH  GRAMMARS.  283 

dictionary  of  Furetiere  only  appeared  after  his  death  at 
Amsterdam  in  1690.1  Whatever  may  have  been  the  delin- 
quency, moral  or  legal,  of  this  compiler,  his  dictionary  is 
praised  by  Goujet  as  a  rich  treasure,  in  which  almost  every 
thing  is  found  that  we  can  desire  for  a  sound  knowledge  of 
the  language.  It  has  been  frequently  reprinted,  and  con- 
tinued long  in  esteem.  But  the  dictionary  of  the  Academy, 
which  was  published  in  1694,  claimed  an  authority  to  which 
that  of  a  private  man  could  not  pretend.  Yet  the  first  edition 
seems  to  have  rather  disappointed  the  public  expectation. 
Many  objected  to  the  want  of  quotations,  and  to  the  observ- 
ance of  an  orthography  that  had  become  obsolete.  The 
Academy  undertook  a  revision  of  its  work  in  1700 ;  and, 
finally,  profiting  by  the  public  opinion  on  which  it  endeavored 
to  act,  rendered  this  dictionary  the  most  received  standard  oi 
the  French  language.2 

12.  The  Grammaire  Generale  et  Raisonnee  of  Lancelot, 
in  which  Arnauld  took  a  considerable  share,  is  rather  French 
a  treatise  on  the  philosophy  of  all  language  than  one  gram™1"*' 
peculiar  to  the  French.  "The  best  critics,"  says  Baillet, 
"acknowledge  that  there  is  nothing  written  by  either  the 
ancient  or  the  modern  grammarians  with  so  much  justness 
and  solidity."  3  Vigneul-Marville  bestows  upon  it  an  almost 
equal  eulogy.4  Lancelot  was  copied,  in  a  great  degree,  by 
Lami,  in  his  Rhetoric,  or  Art  of  Speaking,  with  little  of  value 
that  is  original.5  Vaugelas  retained  his  place  as  the  founder 
of  sound  grammatical  criticism,  though  his  judgments  have 
not  been  uniformly  confirmed  by  the  next  generation.  His 
remarks  were  edited  with  notes  by  Thomas  Corneille,  who 
had  the  reputation  of  an  excellent  grammarian.6  The  obser- 
vations of  Menage  on  the  French  language,  in  1675  and  1676, 
are  said  to  have  the  fault  of  reposing  too  much  on  obsolete 
authorities,  even  those  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  had 
long  been  proscribed  by  a  politer  age.7  Notwithstanding  the 
zeal  of  the  Academy,  no  critical  laws  could  arrest  the  revolu- 
tions of  speech.  Changes  came  in  with  the  lapse  of  time,  and 
were  sanctioned  by  the  imperious  rule  of  custom.  In  a  book 

1  Pelieson,  Hist,  de  1' Academie  (conti-       *  Melanges  de  Litterature,  1.  124. 
nuation  par  Olivet),  p.  47 ;  Goujet,  Biblio-        »  Goujet,  i.  56  ;  Gibert,  p.  351 
theque  Fran<;ai«e,  i.  232,   et  post;  Biogr.        6  Goujet,  146;  Biogr.  Univ. 
Univ.,  art.  "Furetiere."  *  Id.,  153. 

*  Pelisson,  p.  69;  Goujet,  p.  261. 

8  Jugemens  des  S^avaow,  n.  606.     Goujet 
copies  Baillet's  words. 


284  BOUHOURS.  PART  IV. 

on  grammar,  published  as  early  as  1688,  Baliac  and  Voiture, 
even  Patru  and  the  Port-Royal  writers,  are  called  semi- 
moderns  ; l  so  many  new  phrases  had  since  made  their  way 
into  composition,  so  many  of  theirs  had  acquired  a  certain  air 
of  antiquity. 

13.  The  genius  of  the  French  language,  as  it  was  estimated 

in  this  age  by  those  who  aspired  to  the  character  of 
IntretieM  good  critics,  may  be  learned  from  one  of  the*  dia- 
d'Aristeet  !OgUes  in  a  work  of  Bouhours, —  Les  Entretiens 

d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene.  Bouhours  was  a  Jesuit,  who 
affected  a  polite  and  lively  tone,  according  to  the  fashion  of 
his  time,  so  as  to  warrant  some  degree  of  ridicule ;  but  a  man 
of  taste  and  judgment,  whom,  though  La  Harpe  speaks  of 
him  with  disdain,  his  contemporaries  quoted  with  respect. 
The  first,  and  the  most  interesting  at  present,  of  these  conver- 
sations, which  are  feigned  to  take  place  between  two  gentle- 
men of  literary  taste,  turns  on  the  French  language.2  This 
he  presumes  to  be  the  best  of  all  modern  ;  deriding  the 
Spanish  for  its  pomp,  the  Italian  for  its  finical  effeminacy.8 
The  French  has  the  secret  of  uniting  brevity  with  clearness, 
and  purity  with  politeness.  The  Greek  and  Latin  are 
obscure  where  they  are  concise.  The  Spanish  is  always  dif- 
fuse. The  Spanish  is  a  turbid  torrent,  often  overspreading 
the  country  with  great  noise ;  the  Italian,  a  gentle  rivulet, 
occasionally  given  to  inundate  its  meadows ;  the  French,  a 
noble  river,  enriching  the  adjacent  lands,  but  with  an  equal 
majestic  course  of  waters  that  never  quits  its  level.4  Spanish, 
again,  he  compares  to  an  insolent  beauty,  that  holds  her  head 
high,  and  takes  pleasure  in  splendid  dress  ;  Italian,  to  a  painted 
coquette,  always  attired  to  please ;  French,  to  a  modest  and 
agreeable  lady,  who,  if  you  may  call  her  a  prude,  has  nothing 
uncivil  or  repulsive  in  her  prudery.  Latin  is  the  common 
mother ;  but,  while  Italian  has  the  sort  of  likeness  to  Latin 
which  an  ape  bears  to  a  man,  in  French  we  have  the  dignity 

1    Bibliotheque  Universelle,  xv.  361. —  It  seems,  on  reflection,  that  some  of  the 

Perrault  makes  a  similar  remark  on  Patru.  expressions   he  animadverts  upon   must 

*  Bouhours  points  out  several  innoya-  have  been  affected  while  they  were  new, 

tions  which  had  lately  come  into    use.  being  in  opposition  to  the  correct  meaning 

He    dislikes    avoir   des   menagemens   or  of  words;    and  it  is  always  curious,   in 

avoir  de  la  consideration,  and  thinks  these  other  languages  as  well  as  our  own.  to  ob- 

phrases  would  not  last;  to  which  he  was  serve  the  comparatively  recent  nobility  of 

mistaken.     Tour  de  visage  and  tour  d'esprit  many  things  quite  established  by  present 

were  new:  the  words  fonds,  mesures,  ami-  usage. — Entretiens  d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene, 

tics,  tompte,  and  many  more,  were  used  in  p.  95. 

new  senses.    Thus  also  assez  and  trap;  as  8  P.  52  ("(lit.  1671). 

the  phrase,  ^e  ne  suis  vas  trap  de  votre  avis.  *  P.  77 


CHAP.  VH.  BOUHOURS.  285 

politeness,  purity,  and  good  sense  of  the  Augustan  age.  The 
French  have  rejected  almost  all  the  diminutives  once  in  use, 
and  do  not,  like  the  Italians,  admit  the  right  of  framing  others. 
This  language  does  not  tolerate  rhyming  sounds  in  prose,  nor 
even  any  kind  of  assonance,  as  amertume  and  fortune,  near 
together.  It  rejects  veiy  bold  metaphors,  as  the  zenith  of 
virtue,  the  apogee  of  glory ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that  its 
poetry  is  almost  as  hostile  to  metaphor  as  its  prose.1  "  We 
have  very  few  words  merely  poetical ;  and  the  language  of  our 
poets  is  not  very  different  from  that  of  the  world.  Whatever 
be  the  cause,  it  is  certain  that  a  figurative  style  is  neither 
good  among  us  in  verse  nor  in  prose."  This  is  evidently 
much  exaggerated,  and  in  contradiction  to  the  known  exam- 
ples, at  least,  of  dramatic  poetry.  All  affectation  and  labor, 
he  proceeds  to  say,  are  equally  repugnant  to  a  good  French 
style.  "  If  we  would  speak  the  language  well,  we  should  not 
tiy  to  speak  it  too  well.  It  detests  excess  of  ornament ;  it 
would  almost  desire  that  words  should  be,  as  it  were,  naked  • 
their  dress  must  be  no  more  than  necessity  and  decency 
require.  Its  simplicity  is  averse  to  compound  words  :  those 
adjectives  which  are  formed  by  such  a  juncture  of  two  have 
long  been  exiled  both  from  prose  and  verse."  "  Our  own 
pronunciation,"  he  affirms,  "  is  the  most  natural  and  pleasing 
of  any.  The  Chinese  and  other  Asiatics  sing ;  the  Germans 
rattle  (rcdlenf)  ;  the  Spaniards  spout ;  the  Italians  sigh ;  the 
English  whistle ;  the  French  alone  can  properly  be  said  to 
speak  ;  which  arises,  in  fact,  from  our  not  accenting  any  sylla- 
ble before  the  penultimate.  The  French  language  is  best 
adapted  to  express  the  tenderest  sentiments  of  the  heart ;  for 
which  reason  our  songs  are  so  impassioned  and  pathetic,  while 
those  of  Italy  and  Spain  are  full  of  nonsense.  Other  lan- 
guages may  address  the  imagination  ;  but  ours  alone  speaks  to 
the  heart,  which  never  understands  what  is  said  in  them."2 
This  is  literally  amusing;  and,  with  equal  patriotism,  Bou- 
hours,  in  another  place,  has  proposed  the  question,  whether  a 
German  can,  by  the  nature  of  things,  possess  any  wit. 

14.  Bouhours,  not  deficient,  as  we  may  perceive,  in  self- 
confidence,  and  proneness  to  censure,  presumed  to    ^ttacked 
turn  into  ridicule  the  writers  of  Port  Royal,  at  that   by  Barbier 
time  of  such  distinguished  reputation  as  threatened  d 
to  eclipse  the  credit  which  the  Jesuits  had  always  preserved 

i  p.  60.  »  p.  68. 


286  BOUHOURS.  PART  IV. 

in  polite  letters.  He  alludes  to  their  long  periods,  and  the 
exaggerated  phrases  of  invective  which  they  poured  forth  in 
controversy.1  But  the  Jansenist  party  was  well  able  to 
defend  itself.  Barbier  d'Aucour  retaliated  on  the  vain  Jesuit 
by  his  Sentimens  de  Cleanthe  sur  les  Entretiens  d'Ariste  et 
d'Eugeue.  It  seems  to  be  the  general  opinion  of  French 
critics,  that  he  has  well  exposed  the  weak  paits  of  his  adver- 
sary, his  affected  air  of  the  world,  the  occasional  frivolity  and 
feebleness  of  his  observations  ;  yet  there  seems  something 
morose  in  the  censures  of  the  supposed  Cleanthe,  which  ren- 
ders this  book  less  agreeable  than  that  on  which  it  animad- 
verts. 

15.  Another  work  of  criticism  by  Bouhours,  La  Maniere 
de  Bien  Fenser,  which  is  also  in  dialogue,  contains 

La  Maruere  -    ,    ..  /•    T 

de  Bien  much  that  shows  acutcness  and  delicacy  oi  discmm- 
Penser.  nation  ;  though  his  taste  was  deficient  in  warmth  and 
sensibility,  which  renders  him  somewhat  too  strict  and  fastidi- 
ous in  his  judgments.  He  is  an  unsparing  enemy  of  obscurity, 
exaggeration,  and  nonsense ;  and  laughs  at  the  hyperbolical 
language  of  Balzac,  while  he  has  rather  overpraised  Voiture.2 
The  affected,  inflated  thoughts,  of  which  the  Italian  and 
Spanish  writers  afford  him  many  examples,  Bouhours  justly 
condemns,  and,  by  the  correctness  of  his  judgment,  may  de- 

1  P.    150.      Vigneul-Marville    observes  of  clearness.     An  obscurity  arising  from 
that  the  Port-Royal  writers  formed  their  allusion  to  things  now  unknown,  such  as 
style  originally  on  that  of  Balzac  (vol.  i.  we  find  in  the  ancients,  is  rather  a  misfor- 
p.  107);   and  that  M.  d'Andilly,  brother  tune  than  a  fault;  but  this  is  no  excuse 
of  Antony  Arnauld,  affected  at  one  time  for  one  which  may  be  avoided,  and  ari.-i-s 
a  grand  and  copious  manner    like    the  from   the  writer's  indistinctness  of  con- 
Bpaniards,  as  beiug  more  serious  and  im-  ception  or  language.     "  Cela  n'est  pas  in- 
posiug,  especially  in  devotional  writings;  telligible,  dit  Puilinthe"  (after  hearing  a 
but  afterwards,  finding  the  French  were  foolish  rhapsody  extracted  from  a' funeral 
Impatient  of  this  style,  that  party  aban-  sermon  on  Louis   XIII.).     "Non,  repon- 
doned  it  for  one  more  concise,  which  it  is  dit   Kudoxe,  ce  n'est  pas  tout-i-fait    de 
by  no  means  less  difficult  to  write  well,  —  galimatias,  ce  n'est  que  du  phebus.     Vous 
p.  139.     liaillet  seems  to  refer  their  love  mettez  done,  dit  I'hilinthe,  de  la  difference 
of  long  periods  to  the  famous  advocate  Le  eutre  le  galimatias  et  le  phebus  ?      Oui, 
Maistre,  who  had  employed  them  in  his  repartit  Eudoxe,   le  galimatias   renferme 
pleadings,  not  only  as  giving  more  dignity,  une  obscurite  profonde,  et  iva  de  soi-meme 
but  also  because  the  public  taste  at  that  mil   sens   raisonnable.      Le   phebus  n'est 
time  favored  them.  —  Jugemens  des  Sea-  pas  si  obscur,  et  a  un  brillant  qui  sinnilie, 
Tans,  n.  U53.  ou   semble   signifier,   quelque    ch"-<> ;    le 

2  Voiture,  he  says,  always  take?  a  tone  soleil  y  entre  d'ordimiire,  et  c'est  peut- 
of   raillery   when  he  exaggerates.      "  Le  etre  ce  qui  a  donne  lieu  en  notre  langue 
faux  devient  vrai  a  la  faveur  de  1'ironie,''  au   nom   de   phebus.      Ce  n°e-t  ]>•«   <ino 
—  p.  29.     But  we  can  hardly  think  that  quelqnefois  le  phebus  ne  devienne  obscur, 
Balzac  was  not  gravely  ironical  in  some  jusqu'a  n'etre  pas  entendu  ;  mais  ulors  le 
of  the  strangs  hyberboles  which  Bouhours  galimatias  s'en  joint ;  ce  ne  sont  quo  bril- 
quotes  from  him.  lans  et  que  tenebres  de    tous    cotes.  — • 

In  the  fourth  dialogue,  Bouhours  has    p.  342. 
many  just  observations  on  the  necessity 


CHAP.  VII.     RAPIN:    REFLECTIONS  ON  ELOQUENCE.  287 

serve,  on  the  whole,  a  respectable  place  in  the  second  order 
of  critics. 

16.  The  Reflexions  sur  1'Eloquence  et  sur  la  Poesie  of 
Rapin,  another  Jesuit,  whose  Latin  poem  on  Gardens 

has  already  been  praised,  are  judicious,  though  per-  felons  on 
haps  rather  too  diffuse  :  his  criticism  is  what  would  Eloquence 

,,  and  Poetry. 

appear  severe  m  our  times  ;  but  it  was  that  or  a  man 
formed  by  the  ancients,  and  who  lived  also  in  the  best  and 
most  critical  age  of  France.  The  reflections  on  poetry  are 
avowedly  founded  on  Aristotle,  but  with  much  that  is  new, 
and  with  examples  from  modern  poets  to  confirm  and  illus- 
trate it.  The  practice  at  this  time  in  France  was  to  depre- 
ciate the  Italians ;  and  Tasso  is  often  the  subject  of  Rapin's 
censure,  for  want,  among  other  things,  of  that  grave  and 
majestic  character  which  epic  poetry  demands.  Yet  Rapin 
is  not  so  rigorous  but  that  he  can  blame  the  coldness  of 
modern  precepts  in  regard  to  French  poetry.  After  condemn- 
ing the  pompous  tone  of  Breboeuf  in  his  translation  of  the 
Pharsalia,  he  remarks  that  "  we  have  gone  since  to  an  opposite 
extreme  by  too  scrupulous  a  care  for  the  purity  of  the  lan- 
guage :  for  we  have  begun  to  take  from  poetry  its  force  and 
dignity  by  too  much  reserve  and  a  false  modesty,  which  we 
have  established  as  characteristics  of  our  language,  so  as  to 
deprive  it  of  that  judicious  boldness  which  true  poetry  re- 
quires ;  we  have  cut  off  the  metaphors  and  all  those  figures 
of  speech  which  give  force  and  spirit  to  words,  and  reduced 
all  the  artifices  of  words  to  a  pure,  regular  style,  which 
exposes  itself  to  no  risk  by  bold  expression.  The  taste  of  the 
age,  the  influence  of  women  who  are  naturally  timid,  that  of 
the  court  which  had  hardly  any  thing  in  common  with  the 
ancients,  on  account  of  its  usual  antipathy  for  learning, 
accredited  this  manner  of  writing."  1  In  this,  Rapin  seems  to 
glance  at  the  polite  but  cold  criticism  of  his  brother  Jesuit, 
Bouhours. 

17.  Rapin,  in  another  work  of  criticism,  the  Parallels  of 
Great  Men  of  Antiquity,  has  weighed,  in  the  scales  nig  Paral. 
of    his   own    judgment,    Demosthenes    and    Cicero,  leis  of 
Homer  and  Virgil,  Thucydides  and  Livy,  Plato  ^  and  Gl 
Aristotle.     Thus  eloquence,  poetry,  history,  and  philosophy 
pass  under  review.     The  taste  of  Rapin  is  for  the  Latins 
Cicero  he  prefers  to  Demosthenes ;    Livy,  on  the  whole,  to 

i  P.  147 


288  BOSSU  ON  EPIC  POETRY— FONTENELLE.     PART  IV. 

Thucydides,  though  this  he  leaves  more  to  the  reader ;  but  is 
confident  that  none  except  mere  grammarians  have  ranked 
Homer  above  Virgil.1  The  loquacity  of  the  older  poet,  the 
frequency  of  his  moral  reflections  (which  Rapin  thinks  mis- 
placed in  an  epic  poem),  his  similes,  the  sameness  of  his  transi- 
tions, are  treated  very  freely ;  yet  he  gives  him  the  preference 
over  Virgil  for  grandeur  and  nobleness  of  narration,  for  his 
epithets,  and  the  splendor  of  his  language.  But  he  is  of 
opinion  that  JEneas  is  a  much  finer  character  than  Achilles. 
These  two  epic  poets  he  holds,  however,  to  be  the  greatest  in 
the  world  :  as  for  all  the  rest,  ancient  and  modern,  he  enume- 
rates them  one  after  another,  and  can  find  little  but  faults  in 
them  all.2  Nor  does  he  esteem  dramatic  and  lyric  poets,  at 
least  modern,  much  better. 

18.  The  treatise  on  Epic  Poetry  by  Bossu  was  once  of 
BOSSU  on      some  reputation.      An  English  poet  has  thought  fit 
Epic  Poetry.  to  gav>  that  we  should  nave   stared,  like    Indians, 
at  Homer,  if  Bossu  had  not  taught  us  to  understand  him.3 
The  book  is,  however,  long  since  forgotten ;    and  we  fancy 
that  we  understand  Homer  not  the  worse.     It  is  in  six  books, 
which  treat  of  the  fable,  the  action,  the  narration,  the  man- 
ners, the  machinery,  the  sentiments  and  expressions,  of  an  epic 
poem.     Homer  is  the  favorite  poet  of  Bossu,  and  Virgil  next 
to  him :  this  preference  of  the  superior  model  does  him  some 
honor  in  a  generation  which  was  becoming  insensible  to  its 
excellence.     Bossu  is  judicious  and  correct  in  taste,  but  with- 
out much  depth;    and  he  seems  to  want  the  acuteness  of 
Bouhours. 

19.  Fontenelle  is  a  critic  of  whom  it  may  be  said,  that  he 
Fonteneiie'g  ^^  more  injury  to  fine  taste  and  sensibility  in  works 
critical        of  imagination  and  sentiment  than  any  man  without 

ng8'  his  good  sense  and  natural  acuteness  could  luivo 
done.  He  is  systematically  cold :  if  he  seems  to  tolerate 
any  flight  of  the  poet,  it  is  rather  by  caprice  than  by  a  genu- 
ine discernment  of  beauty ;  but  he  clings,  with  the  unyielding 
claw  of  a  cold-blooded  animal,  to  the  faults  of  great  writers, 
which  he  exposes  with  reason  and  sarcasm.  His  Reflections 
on  Poetry  relate  mostly  to  dramatic  composition,  and  to  that 
of  the  French  stage.  Theocritus  is  his  victim  in  the  Disser- 

1  P.  158.  *  p.  175. 

*  "  Had  Boswu  never  writ,  the  world  had  still, 

Like  Indians,  viewed  this  mighty  piece  of  wit." 

MU-LGBAVK'S  Essay  on  Poetry. 


CHAP.  YTI.     SUPERIORITY  OF  AXCTEXTS  DISPUTED.  289 

tation  on  Pastoral  Poetry:  but  Fontenelle  gave  the  Siwlian 
hi;  revenge ;  he  wrote  pastorals  himself;  and  we  have  alto- 
gether forgotten,  or,  when  we  again  look  at,  can  very  partially 
approve,  the  idyls  of  the  Boulevards,  while  those  Doric 
dactyls  of  Theocritus  linger  still,  like  what  Schiller  has  called 
soft  music  of  yesterday,  from  our  schoolboy  reminiscences,  on 
our  aged  ears. 

20.  The  reign  of  mere  scholars  was  now  at  an  end ;    no 
worse  name  than  that  of  "  pedant "  could  be  imposed 

on  those  who  sought  for  glory;  the  admiration  of 
all  that  was  national  in  arts,  in  arms,  in  manners,  as 
well  as  in  speech,  carried  away  like  a  torrent  those 
prescriptive  titles  to  reverence  which  only  lingered  in  colleges. 
The  superiority  of  the  Latin  language  to  French  had  long 
been  contested ;  even  Henry  Stephens  has  a  dissertation  in 
favor  of  the  latter ;  and  in  this  period,  though  a  few  resolute 
scholars  did  not  retire  from  the  field,  it  was  generally  held, 
either  that  French  was  every  way  the  better  means  of  ex- 
pressing our  thoughts,  or  at  least  so  much  more  convenient  as 
to  put  nearly  an  end  to  the  use  of  the  other.  Latin  had  been 
the  privileged  language  of  stone ;  but  Louis  XIV.,  in  conse- 
quence of  an  essay  by  Charpentier,  in  1676,  replaced  the 
inscriptions  on  his  triumphal  arches  by  others  in  French.1 
This,  of  course,  does  not  much  affect  the  general  question 
between  the  two  languages. 

21.  But  it  was  not  in  language  alone  that  the  ancients  were 
to  endure  the  aggression  of  a  disobedient  posterity. 

It  had  long  been  a  problem  in  Europe,  whether  they  superiority 
had  not  been  surpassed ;  one,  perhaps,  which  began  J^,8^^** 
before   the  younger  generations   could   make   good 
their  claim.     But  time,  the  nominal  ally  of  the  old  possessors, 
gave  his  more  powerful  aid  to  their  opponents :  every  age  saw 
the  proportions  change,  and  new  men  rise  up  to  strengthen 
the  ranks  of  the  assailants.    In  mathematical  science,  in  natu- 
ral knowledge,  the  ancients  had  none  but  a  few  mere  pedants, 
or  half-read  lovers  of  paradox,  to  maintain  their  superiority 
but  in  the  beauties  of  language,  in  eloquence  and  poetry,  the 
suffrage  of  criticism  had  long  been  theirs.     It  seemed  time  to 
dispute  even  this.     Charles  Perrault,  a  man  of  some   Charles 
learning,  some  variety  of  acquirement,  and  a  good   Perrault. 
deal  of   ingenuity   and   quickness,   published,   in   1687,   his 

1  Goujet,  i.  13. 
VOL.  nr.  19 


290  PERKAULT  — FONTENELLE.  PART  IV. 

famous  Parallel  of  the  Ancients  and  Moderns  in  all  that 
regards  Arts  and  Sciences.  This  is  a  series  of  dialogues, 
the  parties  being,  first,  a  president,  deeply  learned,  and  preju- 
diced in  all  respects  lor  antiquity ;  secondly,  an  abbe,  not 
ignorant,  but  having  reflected  more  than  read,  cool  and  impar- 
tial, always  made  to  appear  in  the  right,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  author's  representative ;  thirdly,  a  man  of  the  world,  seiz- 
ing the  gay  side  of  every  subject,  and  apparently  brought  in 
to  prevent  the  book  from  becoming  dull.  They  begin  with 
architecture  and  painting,  and  soon  make  it  clear  that  Athens 
was  a  mere  heap  of  pig-sties  in  comparison  with  Versailles  : 
the  ancient  painters  fare  equally  ill.  They  next  advance  to 
eloquence  and  poetry ;  and  here,  where  the  strife  of  war  is 
sharpest,  the  defeat  of  antiquity  is  chanted  with  triumph. 
Homer,  Virgil,  Horace,  are  successively  brought  forward  for 
severe  and  often  unjust  censure :  but,  of  course,  it  is  not  to  be 
imagined  that  Perrault  is  always  in  the  wrong ;  he  had  to  fight 
against  a  pedantic  admiration  which  surrenders  all  judgment ; 
and,  having  found  the  bow  bent  too  much  in  one  way,  he 
forced  it  himself  too  violently  into  another  direction.  It  is 
the  fault  of  such  books  to  be  one-sided :  they  are  not  unfre- 
quently  right  in  censuring  blemishes,  but  very  uncandid  in 
suppressing  beauties.  Homer  has  been  worst  used  by  Per- 
rault, who  had  not  the  least  power  of  feeling  his  excellence  ; 
but  the  advocate  of  the  newer  age  in  his  dialogue  admits  that 
the  JEneid  is  superior  to  any  modern  epic.  In  his  comparison 
of  eloquence,  Perrault  has  given  some  specimens  of  both  sides 
in  contrast;  comparing,  by  means,  however,  of  his  own  ver- 
sions, the  funeral  orations  of  Pericles  and  Plato  with  those  of 
Bourdaloue,  Bossuet,  and  Flechier,  the  description  by  Pliny 
of  his  country-seat  with  one  by  Balzac,  an  epistle  of  Cicero 
with  another  of  Balzac.  These  comparisons  were  fitted  to 
produce  a  great  effect  among  those  who  could  neither  read  the 
original  text,  nor  place  themselves  in  the  midst  of  ancient 
feelings  and  habits.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  that  a  vast  majori- 
ty of  the  French  in  that  age  would  agree  with  Perrault :  the 
book  was  written  for  the  times. 

22.    Fontenelle,  in  a  very  short  digression  on  the  ancients 
Fonteneiie    &n^  m°derns,  subjoined  to  his  Discourse  on  Pastoral 
Poetry,  followed  the  steps  of  Perrault.    "  The  whole 
question  as  to  pre-eminence  between  the  ancients  and  mo- 
derns," he  begins,  "  reduces  itself  into  another,  whether  the 


CHAP.  VII.  FIRST  REVIEWS.  291 

trees  that  used  to  grow  in  our  woods  were  larger  than  those 
which  grow  now.  If  they  were,  Homer,  Plato,  Demosthenes, 
cannot  be  equalled  in  these  ages ;  but,  if  our  trees  are  as 
large  as  trees  were  of  old,  then  there  is  no  reason  why  we 
may  not  equal  Homer,  Plato,  and  Demosthenes."  The  sophis- 
try of  tliis  is  glaring  enough ;  but  it  was  logic  for  Paris.  In 
the  rest  of  this  short  essay,  there  are  the  usual  characteristics 
of  Fontenelle,  —  cool  good  sense,  and  an  incapacity,  by  natural 
privation,  of  feeling  the  highest  excellence  in  works  of  taste. 

23.  Boileau,  in  observations  annexed  to  his  translation  of 
Longinus,  as  well  as  in  a  few  sallies  of  his  poetry,   Bdleau^ 
defended  the  great  poets,  especially  Homer  and  Pin-   defence  of 
dar,  with  dignity  and  moderation  ;  freely  alutndoning  anaimty 
the  cause  of  antiquity  where  he  felt  it  to  be  untenable.     Per- 
rault  replied  with  courage,  —  a  quality  meriting  some  praise 
where  the  adversary  was  so  powerful  in  sarcasm,  and  so  little 
accustomed  to  spare  it ;  but  the  controversy  ceased  in  tolera- 
ble friendship. 

24.  The  knowledge  of  new  accessions  to  literature  which 
its  lovers  demanded  had  hitherto  been  communicated 

only  through  the  annual  catalogues  published  at  Tiews: 
Frankfort  or  other  places.  But  these  lists  of  title-  ^^^  *" 
pages  were  unsatisfactory  to  the  distant  scholar,  who 
sought  to  become  acquainted  with  the  real  progress  of  learn- 
ing, and  to  know  what  he  might  find  it  worth  while  to  pur- 
chase. Denis  de  Sallo,  a  member  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
and  not  wholly  undistinguished  in  literature,  though  his  other 
works  are  not  much  remembered,  by  carrying  into  effect  a 
happy  project  of  his  own,  gave  birth,  as  it  were,  to  a  mighty 
spirit,  which  has  grown  up  in  strength  and  enterprise,  till  it 
Las  become  the  ruling  power  of  the  literary  world.  Monday, 
tne  oth  of  January,  1665,  is  the  date  of  the  first  number  of  the 
first  review,  —  the  Journal  des  Sc,avans,  —  published  by  Sallo 
under  the  name  of  the  Sieur  de  Hedouville,  which  some  have 
eaid  to  be  that  of  his  servant.1  It  was  printed  weekly,  in  a 
duodecimo  or  sexto-decimo  form ;  each  number  contaming  from 

1  Camusat,  in  his  Histoire  Critique  des  was  the  name  of  an  estate  belonging  to 

Journaux,  in   two  volumes.  1734.  which,  Sallo  ;  and  he  is  called  in  some  public  de- 

notwithstanding  its  general  title,  is  chiefly  scription,  without  reference  to  the  journal, 

confined  to  the  history  of  the  Journal  des  Dominus  de  Sallo  de  HedouTilli-  iu  I'arisi- 

Scavans.  and  wholly  to  such  as  appeared  ensi  curia  senator.  — Camiisat.  i.  13.     Not- 

in  France,  has  not  been  able  to  clear  up  withstanding  this,  there  is  evidence  that 

this  interesting  point:    for  there  are  not  len'l*  us  to  the  valnt  :  •  i)>li'uj 

wanting  those  who  assert  that  iledouville  deliberanduui  ceuseo  ;  Bes  wagaa  eot  " 


292  JOURNAL  DES  SCAVANS.  PAKT  IV. 

twelve  to  sixteen  pages.  The  first  book  ever  reviewed  (let  us 
observe  the  difference  of  subject  between  that  and  the  last, 
whatever  the  last  may  be)  was  an  edition  of  the  works  of  Vic- 
tor Vitensis  and  Vigilius  Tapsensis,  African  bishops  of  the  fifth 
century,  by  Father  Chiflet,  a  Jesuit.1  The  second  is  Spelman'a 
Glossary.  According  to  the  prospectus  prefixed  to  the  Journal 
des  Sc,avans,  it  was  not  designed  for  a  mere  review,  but  a  lite- 
rary miscellany ;  composed,  in  the  first  place,  of  an  exact  cata- 
logue of  the  chief  books  which  should  be  printed  in  Europe  • 
not  content  with  the  mere  titles,  as  the  majority  of  bibliogra- 
phers had  hitherto  been,  but  giving  an  account  of  their  con- 
tents, and  their  value  to  the  public :  it  was  also  to  contain  a 
necrology  of  distinguished  authors,  an  account  of  experiments 
in  physics  and  chemistry,  and  of  new  discoveries  in  arts  and 
sciences,  with  the  principal  decisions  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
tribunals,  the  decrees  of  the  Sorbonne  and  other  French  or 
foreign  universities ;  in  short,  whatever  might  be  interesting 
to  men  of  letters.  We  find,  therefore,  some  piece  of  news, 
more  or  less  of  a  literary  or  scientific  nature,  subjoined  to 
each  number.  Thus,  in  the  first  number,  we  have  a  double- 
headed  child  born  near  Salisbury ;  in  the  second,  a  question 
of  legitimacy  decided  in  the  Parliament  of  Paris ;  in  the 
third,  an  experiment  on  a  new  ship  or  boat  constructed  by 
Sir  William  Petty ;  in  the  fourth,  an  account  of  a  discussion 
in  the  college  of  Jesuits  on  the  nature  of  comets.  The  sci- 
entific articles,  which  bear  a  large  proportion  to  the  rest,  are 
illustrated  by  engravings.  It  was  complained  that  the  Journal 
des  S9avans  did  not  pay  much  regard  to  polite  or  amusing 
literature ;  and  this  led  to  the  publication  of  the  Mercure 
Galant,  by  Vise,  which  gave  reviews  of  poetry  and  of  the 
drama. 

25.  Though  the  notices  in  the  Journal  des  Ssavans  are 
very  short,  and,  when  they  give  any  character,  for  the  most 
part  of  a  laudatory  tone,  Sallo  did  not  fail  to  raise  up  enemies 
by  the  mere  assumption  of  power  which  a  reviewer  is  prone 
to  affect.  Menage,  on  a  work  of  whose  he  had  made  some  cri  • 
ticism,  and  by  no  means,  as  it  appears,  without  justice,  replied 
in  wrath  ;  Patin  and  others  rose  up  as  injured  authors  against 
the  self-erected  censor :  but  he  made  more  formidable  enemies 

1  "Victoria  Vitensis  et  Vigilii  Tapsensis,  be,  occupies  but  two  pages  in  small  duo- 

Provincise  Bisacense  Episcoporum  Opera,  decimo.      That  on    Spetman's    Glossary, 

edente  R.  P.  Chitietio,  Soc.  Jegu.  Presb.,  which  follows,  is  but  in  half  a  page, 
in  -tto  Divione."    Xhe  critique,  if  such  it 


CHAP.  VII.       REVIEWS  ESTABLISHED  BY  BAYLE.  293 

by  some  rather  blunt  declarations  of  a  Galilean  feeling,  as 
became  a  counsellor  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  against  the 
court  of  Rome ;  and  the  privilege  of  publication  was  soon 
withdrawn  from  Sallo.1  It  is  said  that  he  had  the  spirit  to 
refuse  the  offer  of  continuing  the  journal  under  a  previous 
censorship  ;  and  it  passed  into  other  hands,  —  those  of  Gallois, 
who  continued  it  with  great  success.2  It  is  remarkable  that 
the  first  review,  within  a  few  months  of  its  origin,  was  silenced 
for  assuming  too  imperious  an  authority  over  literature,  and 
for  speaking  evil  of  dignities.  "  In  cunis  jam  Jove  dignus 
erat."  The  Journal  des  S9avans,  incomparably  the  most 
ancient  of  living  reviews,  is  still  conspicuous  for  its  learning, 
its  candor,  and  its  freedom  from  those  stains  of  personal  and 
party  malice  which  deform  more  popular  works. 

26.    The  path  thus  opened  to  all  that  could  tempt  a  man 
who  made  writing  his  profession  —  profit,  celebrity,  a   _ 

,.  r  «•     •»•         Reviews 

perpetual  appearance  in  the  public  eye,  the  facility  established 
of  pouring  forth  every  scattered  thought  of  his  own,  by  Ba>'le» 
the  power  of  revenge  upon  every  enemy  —  could  not  fail  to 
tempt  more  conspicuous  men  than  Sallo  or  his  successor  Gal- 
lois. Two  of  very  high  reputation,  at  least  of  reputation  that 
hence  became  very  high,  entered  it,  —  Bayle  and  Le  Gere. 
The  former,  in  1684,  commenced  a  new  review,  —  Nouvelles 
de  la  Republique  des  Lettres.  He  saw,  and  was  well  able  to 
improve,  the  opportunities  which  periodical  criticism  furnished 
to  a  mind  eminently  qualified  for  it ;  extensively,  and,  in  some 
points,  deeply  learned ;  full  of  wit,  acuteness,  and  a  happy 
talent  of  writing  in  a  lively  tone  without  the  insipidity  of  af- 
fected politeness.  The  scholar  and  philosopher  of  Rotterdam 
had  a  rival  in  some  respects,  and  ultimately  an  adversary,  iu 
a  neighboring  city.  Le  Clerc,  settled  at  Amsterdam  And  ^ 
as  professor  of  belles-lettres  and  of  Hebrew  in  the  Clerc 
Arminian  seminary,  undertook  in  1686,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
nine,  the  first  of  those  three  celebrated  series  of  reviews  to 
which  he  owes  so  much  of  his  fame.  This  was  the  Biblio- 
theque  Univeraelle,  in  all  the  early  volumes  of  which  La 
Croze,  a  much  inferior  person,  was  his  coadjutor,  published 
monthly  in  a  very  small  form.  Le  Clerc  had  afterwards  a 

1  Camusat,  p.  28.  Sallo  had  also  at-  lois."  Gallois  is  said  to  have  beer;  i 

tacked  the  Jesuits.  coadjutor  of  Sallo  from  the  beginning 

-  Eloge  de  Gallois,  par  Fontenelle,  in  and  some  others  are  named  by  Oaniusat 

the  latter's  works,  vol.  v.  p.  168.  Biogra-  as  its  contributors,  among  whonr.  WBT' 

phie  Universelle,  arts.  "  Sallo  "  and  "  Gal-  Goniberville  and  Chapelain 


294  LEIPSIC  ACTS.  PART  IV. 

disagreement  with  La  Croze,  and  the  latter  part  of  the  Bib- 
liotht  que  Universelle  (that  after  the  tenth  volume)  is  chiefly 
his  own.  It  ceased  to  be  published  in  1 693  ;  and  the  Biblio- 
tbeque  Choisie,  which  is,  perhaps,  even  a  more  known  work 
of  Le  Clerc,  did  not  commence  till  1703.  But  the  fulness, 
the  variety,  the  judicious  analysis  and  selection,  as  well  as  the 
value  of  the  original  remarks,  which  we  find  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Universelle,  render  it  of  signal  utility  to  those  who 
would  embrace  the  literature  of  that  short  but  not  unimpor- 
tant period  which  it  illustrates. 

27.  Meantime  a  less  brilliant,  but  by  no  means  less  erudite, 
Leipsic  review,  the  Leipsic  Acts,  had  commenced  in  Germa- 
Acte.  ny.  The  first  volume  of  this  series  was  published 
in  1682.  But  being  written  in  Latin,  with  more  regard  to 
the  past  than  to  the  growing  state  of  opinions,  and  conse- 
quently almost  excluding  the  most  attractive,  and  indeed  the 
most  important  subjects,  with  a  Lutheran  spirit  of  unchange- 
able orthodoxy  in  religion,  and  with  an  absence  of  any  thing 
like  philosophy  or  even  connected  system  in  erudition,  it  is 
one  of  the  most  unreadable  books,  relatively  to  its  utility  in 
learning,  which  has  ever  fallen  into  my  hands.  Italy  had 
entered  earlier  on  this  critical  career :  the  Giornale  de'  Litte- 
rati  was  begun  at  Rome  in  1668;  the  Giornale  Veneto  de' 
Litterati,  at  Venice  in  1671.  They  continued  for  some  time, 
but  with  less  conspicuous  reputation  than  those  above  men- 
tioned. The  Mercure  Savant,  published  at  Amsterdam  in 
1684,  was  an  indifferent  production,  which  induced  Bayle  to 
set  up  his  own  Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des  Lettres  in 
opposition  to  it.  Two  reviews  were  commenced  in  the  Ger- 
man language  within  the  seventeenth  century,  and  three  in 
English.  The  first  of  these  latter  was  the  Weekly  Memorials 
for  the  Ingenious,  London,  1 682.  This,  I  believe,  lasted  but 
a  short  time.  It  was  followed  by  one  entitled  The  Works  of 
the  Learned,  in  1691  ;  and  by  another,  called  History  of  the 
Works  of  the  Learned,  in  1699.1 

i  Jugler,  Hist.  Litteraria,  cap.  9.    Bib-  to  hare  lasted  but  a  year  :  at  least,  there 

Eotheque  Uuivcrselle,  xiii.  41.      [The  first  is  only  one  volume  in  the  British  Museum, 

number  of  Weekly  Memorials  for  the  In-  The    Universal    Historical     Bibliotheque, 

genious  is  dated  Jan.  16,  1681-2 ;  and  the  which  began  in  January,  1686,  and  ex- 

fir-t    hook  reviewed  is  Christian!  Liberii  pirt-.l  in  March,  is  scarcely  worth  notice  : 

Bo?/U<x>£/lta,   Utrecht,  1681.    The  editor  'f  is  professedly  a  compilation  from   the 

propose   to   transcribe  from  the  Journal  foreign  reviews.     The  History  of  the  Works 

d.-    S,  nvans  whatever  is  most  valuable :  of  tne  learned,  published  monthly  from 

»nd  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  articles  1699  to  I?!*'  ™  much  more  respectable  ; 

relate  to  foreign  books.     Xliib  review  teems  **«">«•»  iu  this  ak*>  »  very  large  proportion 


CHAP.  VTI.  BAYLE'S  DICTIONARY.  295 

28.  Bayle  had  first  become  known  in  1 682  by  the  Pensees 
Diverses  sur  la  Comete  de  1680;    a  work  which  I 

am  not  sure  that  he  ever  decidedly  surpassed.  Its  Thoughts 
purpose  is  one  hardly  worthy,  we  should  imagine,  to  °n  the 
employ  him ;  since  those  who  could  read  and  reason 
were  not  likely  to  be  afraid  of  comets,  and  those  who  could 
do  neither  would  be  little  the  better  for  his  book.  But,  with 
this  ostensible  aim,  Bayle  had  others  in  view :  it  gave  scope 
to  his  keen  observation  of  mankind,  if  we  may  use  the  word 
"  observation  "  for  that  which  he  chiefly  derived  from  modern 
books,  and  to  the  calm  philosophy  which  he  professed.  There 
is  less  of  the  love  of  paradox,  less  of  a  cavilling  Pyrrhonism, 
and,  though  much  diffuseness,  less  of  pedantry  and  irrelevant 
instances,  in  the  Pensees  Diverses  than  in  his  greater  work. 
It  exposed  him,  however,  to  controversy:  Jurieu,  a  French 
minister  in  Holland,  the  champion  of  Calvinistic  orthodoxy, 
waged  a  war  that  was  only  terminated  with  their  lives  ;  and 
Bayle's  Defence  of  the  Thoughts  on  the  Comet  is  full  as  long 
as  the  original  performance,  but  far  less  entertaining. 

29.  He  now  projected  an  immortal  undertaking, — the  His- 
torical and  Critical  Dictionary.     Moreri,  a  laborious   ms  KC- 
scribe,  had  published,  in  1673,  a  kind  of  encyclope-   tiou&ry 
die  dictionary,  —  biographical,    historical,   and   geographical. 
Bayle  professed  to  fill  up  the  numerous  deficiencies,  and  to 
rectify  the  errors  of  this  compiler.     It  is  hard  to  place  hia 
dictionary,  which  appeared  in  1694,  under  any  distinct  head 
in  a  literary  classification  which  does  not  make  a  separata 
chapter  for  lexicography.     It  is  almost  equally  difficult  to  give 
a  general  character  of  this  many-colored  web,  which  great 
erudition,  and  still  greater  acuteness  and  strength  of  mind, 
wove  for  the  last  years  of  the  seventeenth  century.     The 
learning  of  Bayle  was  copious,  especially  in  what  was  most  pe- 
culiarly required,  —  the  controversies,  the  anecdotes,  the  mis- 
cellaneous facts  and  sentences,  scattered  over  the  vast  surface 
of  literature  for  two  preceding  centuries.     In  that  of  antiqui- 
ty he  was  less  profoundly  versed  ;  yet  so  quick  in  application 
of  his  classical  stores,  that  he  passes  for  a  better  scholar  than 
he  was.     His  original  design  may  have  been  only  to  fill  up 

la  given  to  foreign  works,  and  probably  on  reviewer  seldom  interposing  his  judgment : 

the  credit  of  Continental  journals.     The  if  any  bia.s  is  perceptible,  it  is  towards  what 

books  reviewed  are  numerous,  ami  com-  was  then  called  the  liberal  side :  bur.  for 

monly  of  a  learned  class.     The  accounts  the  mo*t  part,  the  rule  adopted  is  to  sptok 

giveu  of  them  are  chiefly  analytical ;  the  favorably  of  every  oue  — 1S42.] 


296  BAILl.ET  — MORHOF— THE  ANA.  PART  IV. 

the  deficiencies  of  Moreri ;  but  a  mind  so  fertile  and  excur- 
sive could  not  be  restrained  in  such  limits.  We  may  find, 
however,  in  this,  an  apology  for  the  numerous  omissions  of 
Bayle,  which  would,  in  a  writer  absolutely  original,  seem  both 
capricious  and  unaccountable.  We  never  can  anticipate  with 
confidence  that  we  shall  find  any  name  in  his  dictionary.  The 
notes  are  most  frequently  unconnected  with  the  life  to  which 
they  are  appended ;  so  that,  under  a  name  uninteresting  to 
us,  or  inapposite  to  our  purpose,  we  may  be  led  into  the  rich- 
est vein  of  the  author's  fine  reasoning  or  lively  wit.  Bayle  is 
admirable  in  exposing  the  fallacies  of  dogmatism,  the  perplex- 
ities of  philosophy,  the  weaknesses  of  those  who  affect  to 
guide  the  opinions  of  mankind.  But,'  wanting  the  necessary 
condition  of  good  reasoning, — an  earnest  desire  to  reason  well, 
a  moral  rectitude  from  which  the  love  of  truth  must  spring, — 
he  often  avails  himself  of  petty  cavils,  and  becomes  dogmatical 
in  his  very  doubts.  A  more  sincere  spirit  of  inquiry  could 
not  have  suffered  a  man  of  his  penetrating  genius  to  acquiesce, 
even  contingently,  in  so  superficial  a  scheme  as  the  Mani- 
chean.  The  sophistry  of  Bayle,  however,  bears  no  proportion 
to  his  just  and  acute  observations.  Still  less  excuse  can  be 
admitted  for  his  indecency,  which  almost  assumes  the  cha- 
racter of  monomania,  so  invariably  does  it  recur,  even  where 
there  is  least  pretext  for  it 

30.  The  Jugemens  des  S$avans  by  Baillet  (published  in 
Baiiiet;       1685  and  1686),  the  Polyhistor  of  Morhof  in  1689 
Morhof.       are  certainly  works  of  criticism  as  well  as  of  biblio- 
graphy.    But  neither  of  these  writers,  especially  the  latter, 
are  of  much  authority  in  matters  of  taste  :  their  erudition  was 
very  extensive,   their  abilities  respectable,  since  they  were 
able  to  produce  such  useful  and  comprehensive  works  ;  but 
they  do  not  greatly  serve  to  enlighten  or  correct  our  judgments, 
nor  is  the  original  matter  in  any  considerable  proportion  to 
that  which  they  have  derived  from  others.     J   have   taken 
notice  of  both  these  in  my  preface. 

31.  France  was  very  fruitful  of  that  miscellaneous  litera- 
The  AM.     *-ure>  which,  desultory  and  amusing,  has  the  advantage 

of  remaining  better  in  the  memory  than  more  syste- 
matic books,  and,  in  fact,  is  generally  found  to  supply  the  man 
of  extensive  knowledge  with  the  materials  of  his  conversation, 
as  well  as  to  fill  the  vacancies  of  his  deeper  studies.  The 
memoirs,  the  letters,  the  travels,  the  dialogues  and  essays, 


CHAP.  VII.        ENGLISH  STYLE  IN  THIS  PERIOD.  297 

which  might  be  ranged  in  so  large  a  class  as  that  we  now 
pass  in  review,  are  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned ;  and  it  must 
be  understood  that  most  of  them  are  less  in  request  even 
among  the  studious  than  they  were  in  the  last  centuiy.  One 
group  has  acquired  the  distinctive  name  of  Ana, — the  reported 
conversation,  the  table-talk,  of  the  learned.  Several  of  these 
belong  to  the  last  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  or  the  first  of 
the  next,  —  the  Scaligerana,  the  Perroniana,  the  Pithseana,  the 
Naudaeana,  the  Casauboniana  ;  the  last  of  which  are  not  con- 
versational, but  fragments  collected  from  the  commonplace 
books  and  loose  papers  of  Isaac  Casaubon.  Two  collections 
of  the  present  period  are  very  well  known,  —  the  Menagi- 
ana,  and  the  Melanges  de  Litterature  par  Vigneul-Marville ; 
which  differs,  indeed,  from  the  rest  in  not  being  reported  by 
others,  but  published  by  the  author  himself,  yet  comes  so  near 
in  spirit  and  manner  that  we  may  place  it  in  the  same  class. 
The  Menagiana  has  the  common  fault  of  these  Ana,  that  it 
rather  disappoints  expectation,  and  does  not  give  us  as  much 
new  learning  as  the  name  of  its  author  seems  to  promise  ; 
but  it  is  amusing,  full  of  light  anecdote  of  a  literary  kind,  and 
interesting  to  all  who  love  the  recollections  of  that  generation. 
Vigneul-Marville  is  an  imaginary  person :  the  author  of  the 
Melanges  de  Litterature  is  D'Argonne,  a  Benedictine  of 
Rouen.  This  book  has  been  much  esteemed :  the  mask  gives 
courage  to  the  author,  who  writes  not  unlike  a  Benedictine, 
but  with  a  general  tone  of  independent  thinking,  united  to 
good  judgment  and  a  tolerably  extensive  knowledge  of  the 
state  of  literature.  He  had  entered  into  the  religious  profes- 
sion rather  late  in  life.  The  Chevraeana  and  Segraisiana, 
especially  the  latter,  are  of  little  value.  The  Parrhasiana  of 
Le  Clerc  are  less  amusing  and  less  miscellaneous  than  some 
of  the  Ana ;  but,  in  all  his  writings,  there  is  a  love  of  truth, 
and  a  zeal  against  those  who  obstruct  inquiry,  which,  to  conge- 
nial spirits,  is  as  pleasing  as  it  is  sure  to  render  him  obuox 
ious  to  opposite  tempers. 

32.  The  characteristics  of  English  writers  in  the  first  divi 
sion  of  the    century  were   not   maintained   in    the 

11  i      T  i          L     English 

second  ;  though  the  change,  as  was  natural,  did  not  stj  ic  in 
come    on  by  very  rapid  steps.     The   pedantry  of    *"™od 
unauthorized    Latinisms,  the  affectation  of  singular 
and  not  generally  intelligible  words  from  other  sources,  the 
love  of  quaint  phrases,  strange  analogies,  and  ambitious  efforts 


298  STYLE  OF  HOBBES.  PABT  IV 

at  antithesis,  gave  way  by  degrees :  a  greater  case  of  writing 
was  what  the  public  demanded,  and  what  the  writers  after  the 
Restoration  sought  to  attain ;  they  were  more  strictly  idioma- 
tic and  English  than  their  predecessors.  But  this  ease  some- 
times became  negligence  and  feebleness,  and  often  turned  to 
coarseness  and  vulgarity.  The  language  of  Sevigne  and 
Hamilton  is  eminently  colloquial ;  scarce  a  turn  occurs  in 
their  writings  which  they  would  not  have  used  in  familiar 
society ;  but  theirs  was  the  colloquy  of  the  gods,  ours  of  men : 
their  idiom,  though  still  simple  and  French,  had  been  refined 
in  the  saloons  of  Paris  by  that  instinctive  rejection  of  all  that 
is  low  which  the  fine  tact  of  accomplished  women  dictates ; 
while  in  our  own  contemporary  writers,  with  little  exception, 
there  is  what  defaces  the  dialogue  of  our  comedy, — a  tone  not 
so  much  of  provincialism,  or  even  of  what  is  called  the  lan- 
guage of  the  common  people,  as  of  one  much  worse,  the  dregs 
of  vulgar  ribaldry,  which  a  gentleman  must  clear  from  his 
conversation  before  he  can  assert  that  name.  Nor  was  this 
confined  to  those  who  led  irregular  lives :  the  general  manners 
being  unpolished,  we  find  in  the  writings  of  the  clergy, 
wherever  they  are  polemic  or  satirical,  the  same  tendency  to 
what  is  called  slang ;  a  word  which,  as  itself  belongs  to  the 
vocabulary  it  denotes,  I  use  with  some  unwillingness.  The 
pattern  of  bad  writing  in  this  respect  was  Sir  Roger  L'Es- 
trange :  his  ^Esop's  Fables  will  present  every  thing  that  is 
hostile  to  good  taste ;  yet,  by  a  certain  wit  and  readiness  in 
raillery,  L' Estrange  was  a  popular  writer,  and  may  even  now 
be  read,  perhaps,  with  some  amusement.  The  translation  of 
Don  Quixote,  published  in  1682,  may  also  be  specified  as 
incredibly  vulgar,  and  without  the  least  perception  of  the  tone 
which  the  original  author  has  preserved. 

33.  We  can  produce,  nevertheless,  several  names  of  those 
nobbes  who  laid  the  foundations  at  least,  and  indeed  fur- 
nished examples,  of  good  style  ;  some  of  them  among 
the  greatest,  for  other  merits,  in  our  literature.  Hobbes  is 
perhaps  the  first  of  whom  we  can  strictly  say,  that  he  is  a 
pood  English  writer:  for  the  excellent  passages  of  Hooker, 
Sidney,  Raleigh,  Bacon,  Taylor,  Chillingworth,  and  others  of 
the  Elizabethan  or  the  first  Stuart  period,  are  not  sufficient  to 
establish  their  claim;  a  good  writer  being  one  whose  compo- 
sition is  nearly  uniform,  and  who  never  sinks  to  such  inferi- 
ii'ity  or  negligence  as  we  must  confess  in  most  of  these.  To 


CHAP.  Ylf.  CO WLEY- EVELYN— DETDEN.  299 

make  such  a  writer,  the  absence  of  gross  faults  is  full  as  ne- 
cessary as  actual  beauties :  we  are  not  judging  as  of  poets,  by 
the  highest  flight  of  their  genius,  and  forgiving  all  the  rest, 
but  as  of  a  sum  of  positive  and  negative  quantities,  where  the 
latter  counterbalance  and  efface  an  equal  portion  of  the  for- 
mer. Hobbes  is  clear,  precise,  spirited,  and,  above  all,  free, 
in  general,  from  the  faults  of  his  predecessors ;  his  language 
is  sensibly  less  obsolete ;  he  is  never  vulgar ;  rarely,  if  ever, 
quaint  or  pedantic. 

34.  Cowley's  prose,  very  unlike  his  verse,  as  Johnson  has 
observed,   is  perspicuous  and  unaffected.     His  few 

,  ,  xl_  T      .     Cowley 

essays  may  even  be  reckoned  among  the  earliest 
models  of  good  writing.  In  that,  especially,  on  the  death  of 
Cromwell,  till,  losing  his  composure,  he  falls  a  little  into  the 
vulgar  style  towards  the  close,  we  find  an  absence  of  pedant- 
ry, an  ease  and  graceful  choice  of  idiom,  an  unstudied 
harmony  of  periods,  which  had  been  perceived  in  very  few 
writers  of  the  two  preceding  reigns.  "  His  thoughts,"  says 
Johnson,  "  are  natural,  and  his  style  has  a  smooth  and  placid 
equability  which  has  never  yet  attained  its  due  commendation. 
Nothing  is  far-sought  or  hard-labored ;  but  all  is  easy  without 
feebleness,  and  familiar  without  grossness." 

35.  Evelyn  wrote  in  1651  a  little  piece,  purporting  to  be  an 
account  of  England  by  a  Frenchman.     It  is  very 

severe  on  our  manners,  especially  in  London ;  his 
abhorrence  of  the  late  revolutions  in  church  and  state  conspir- 
ing with  his  natural  politeness,  which  he  had  lately  improved 
by  foreign  travel.  It  is  worth  reading  as  illustrative  of  social 
history;  but  I  chiefly  mention  it  here  on  account  of  the 
polish  and  gentlemanly  elegance  of  the  style,  which  very 
few  had  hitherto  regarded  in  such  light  compositions.  An 
answer  by  some  indignant  patriot  has  been  reprinted  together 
with  this  pamphlet  of  Evelyn,  and  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
bestial  ribaldry  which  our  ancestors  seem  to  have  taken  for 
vit.1  The  later  writings  of  Evelyn  are  such  as  "his  character 
and  habits  would  lead  us  to  expect ;  but  I  am  not  aware  that 
they  often  rise  above  that  respectable  level,  nor  are  their  sub- 
jects such  as  to  require  an  elevated  style. 

36.  Every  poem  and  play  of  Dryden,  as  they  successively 
appeared,  was  ushered  into  the  world  by  one  of  those  prefaces 
and  dedications  which  have  made  him  celebrated  as  a  critic 

i  Both  these  will  be  found  in  the  late  edition  of  Evelyn's  Miscellaneous  Work* 


300  STYLE  OF  DRYDEN".  PAET  IV. 

of  poetry  and  a  master  of  the  English  language.  The  Essay 
on  Dramatic  Poesy,  and  its  subsequent  Defence, 
the  Origin  and  Progress  of  Satire,  the  Parallel  of 
Poetry  and  Painting,  the  Life  of  Plutarch,  and  other  things 
of  minor  importance,  all  prefixed  to  some  more  extensive 
work,  complete  the  catalogue  of  his  prose.  The  style  of  Dry- 
den  was  very  superior  to  any  that  England  had  seen.  Not 
conversant  with  our  old  writers,  so  little,  in  fact,  as  to  find 
the  common  phrases  of  the  Elizabethan  age  unintelligible,1  he 
followed  the  taste  of  Charles's  reign  in  emulating  the  politest 
and  most  popular  writers  in  the  French  language.  He  seems 
to  have  formed  himself  on  Montaigne,  Balzac,  and  Voiture ; 
but  so  ready  was  his  invention,  so  vigorous  his  judgment,  so 
complete  his  mastery  over  his  native  tongue,  that,  in  point  of 
style,  he  must  be  reckoned  above  all  the  three.  He  had  the 
ease  of  Montaigne  without  his  negligence,  and  embarrassed 
structure  of  periods ;  he  had  the  dignity  of  Balzac,  with  more 
varied  cadences,  and  without  his  hyperbolical  tumor ;  the  un- 
expected turns  of  Voiture,  without  his  affectation,  and  air  of 
effort.  In  the  dedications,  especially,  we  find  paragraphs 
of  extraordinary  gracefulness,  such  as  possibly  have  never 
been  surpassed  in  our  language.  The  prefaces  are  evidently 
written  in  a  more  negligent  style :  he  seems,  like  Montaigne, 
to  converse  with  the  reader  from  his  arm-chair,  and  passes 
onward  with  little  connection  from  one  subject  to  another.3 
In  addressing  a  patron,  a  different  line  is  observable ;  he 
comes  with  the  respectful  air  which  the  occasion  seems  to 
demand  :  but  though  I  do  not  think  that  Dryden  ever,  in 
language,  forgets  his  own  position,  we  must  confess,  that  the 
flattery  is  sometimes  palpably  untrue,  and  always  offensively 
indelicate.  The  dedication  of  the  Mock  Astrologer  to  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  is  a  masterpiece  of  fine  writing;  and 
the  subject  better  deserved  these  lavish  commendations  than 
most  who  received  them.  That  of  the  State  of  Innocence  to 
the  Duchess  t)f  York  is  alSo  very  well  written  ;  but  the  adu- 
lation is  excessive.  It  appears  to  me,  that,  after  the  Revolu- 
tion, Dryden  took  less  pains  with  his  style :  the  colloquial 

1  Malone  has  given  several  prooft  of  *  This  is  his  own  account.    "The  na- 

this.    Pryden's  Prose  Works,  vol.  i.  part  hire  of  a  preface  is  rambling,  never  wholly 

2,  p.  13f>,  et  alibi.    Dryden  thought  ex-  out  of  the  way,  nor  in  it.    ...   This  I 

prewions  wrong  and  incorrect  in  Shak-  have  learned  from  the  practice  of  honest 

g|Kvire  and  Jon.«on,  which  were  the  current  Montaigne."  —  Vol.  Ui.  p.  605. 
language  of  their  age. 


CHAP.  VH.        HIS  ESSAY  Otf  DRAMATIC  POESY.  301 

vulgarisms,  and  these  are  not  wanting  even  in  his  earlier 
prefaces,  become  more  frequent;  his  periods  are  often  of  more 
slovenly  construction ;  he  forgets,  even  in  his  dedications,  that 
he  is  standing  before  a  lord.  Thus,  remarking  on  the  account 
Andromache  gives  to  Hector  of  her  o\vn  history,  he  observes, 
in  a  style  rather  unworthy  of  him,  "  The  devil  was  in  Hector 
if  he  knew  not  all  this  matter  as  well  as  she  who  told  it  him, 
for  she  had  been  his  bed-fellow  for  many  years  together ;  and, 
if  he  knew  it  then,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Homer  in  this 
long  digression  has  rather  given  us  his  own  character  than 
that  of  the  fair  lady  whom  he  paints."  l 

37.  His  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy,  published  in  1668,  was 
reprinted  sixteen  years  afterwards ;  and  it  is  cui'ious   ^  ^^^ 
to  observe  the  changes  which  Dryden  made  in  the   on  Drama- 
expression.     Malone  has  carefully  noted  all  these : 

they  show  both  the  care  the  author  took  with  his  own  style, 
and  the  change  which  was  gradually  working  in  the  English 
language.2  The  Anglicism  of  terminating  the  sentence  with 
a  preposition  is  rejected.3  Thus  "  I  cannot  think  so  contempti- 
bly of  the  age  I  live  in,"  is  exchanged  for  "  the  age  in  which 
I  live."  "A  deeper  expression  of  belief  than  all  the  actor 
can  persuade  us  to,"  is  altered,  "  can  insinuate  into  us."  And, 
though  the  old  form  continued  in  use  long  after  the  time  of 
Dryden,  it  has,  of  late  years,  been  reckoned  inelegant,  and 
proscribed  in  all  cases,  perhaps  with  an  unnecessary  fastidious- 
ness, to  which  I  have  not  uniformly  deferred ;  since  our  lan- 
guage is  of  a  Teutonic  structure,  and  the  rules  of  Latin  or 
French  grammar  are  not  always  to  bind  us. 

38.  This  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy  is  written  in  dialogue  ; 
Dryden  himself,  under  the  name  of  Neander,  being  ^,0^ 
probably  one  of  the  speakers.     It  turns  on  the  use   ments  iu 
of  rhyme  in  tragedy,  on  the  observation  of  the  uni- 
ties, and  on  some  other  theatrical  questions.     Dryden,  at  this 
time,  was  favorable  to  rhymed  tragedies,  which  his  practice 

1  Vol.  iii.  p.  286.    This  is  in  the  dcdica-  late    friend,  Mr.   Richard   Sharp,   whose 
tion  of  his  third  Miscellany  to  Lord  Kat-  good  taste  is  well  known,  used  to  quote  au 
clille.  interrogatory  of  Hooker,  "  Shall  there  be 

2  Vol.  i.  pp.  136-142.  a  God  to  swear  by,  and  none  to  pray  to  ?  " 

3  '•  The  preposition  in  the  end  of  the  as  an  instance  of  the  force  which  this  ar. 
sentence,  a  common  fault  with  him  (Ben  rangement,  so  eminently  idiomatic,  some- 
Jonson),    and  which  I  have  but  lately  times  gives.    In  the  passive  voice,  I  thinfc 
observed  in  my  own  writings,"  —  p.  237.  it  better  than  in  the  active ;   nor  can  it 
The  form  is,  in  my  opinion,  sometime^  always  be  dispensed  with,  unless  we  choose 
emphatic  and  spirited,  though  its  frequent  rather  the  feeble  encumbering  pronoun 
use  appears  slovenly.     I  remember  my  which. 


302  DRYDEN'S  CRITICAL  CHARACTER.  PART  IV. 

supported.  Sir  Robert  Howard  having  written  some  observa 
tions  on  tliat  essay,  and  taken  a  different  view  as  to  rhynu-, 
Dryden  published  a  defence  of  his  essay  in  a  masterly  style 
of  cutting  scorn,  but  one  hardly  justified  by  the  tone  of  the 
criticism,  which  had  been  very  civil  towards  him ;  and,  as  he 
was  apparently  in  the  wrong,  the  air  of  superiority  seems  the 
more  misplaced. 

39.  Dryden,  as  a  critic,  is  not  to  be  numbered  with  tlio-c 
Bis  critical   who  have  sounded  the  depths  of  the  human  mind; 
character.    nanily  with  those  who   analyze   the   language   and 
eentiraents   of  poets,  and  teach  others  to  judge  by  showing 
why   they   have  judged  themselves.     He   scatters   remarks 
sometimes  too  indefinite,  sometimes   too   arbitrary;    yet  his 
predominating  good  sense  colors  the  whole :  we  find  in  them 
no  perplexing  subtilty,  no  cloudy  nonsense,  no  paradoxes  and 
heresies  in  taste  to  revolt  us.     Those  he  has  made  on  transla- 
tion in  the  preface  to  that  of  Ovid's  Epistles  are  valuable. 
"No  man,"  he  says,  "is  capable  of  translating  poetry,  who, 
besides  a  genius  to  that  art,  is   not  a  master  both   of  his 
author's  language  and  of  his  own.     Nor  must  we  understand 
the  language  only  of  the  poet,  but  his    particular   turn    of 
thoughts  and  expression,  which  are  the  characters  that  distin- 
guish and  as  it  were  individuate  him  from  all  other  writers."  ' 
We  cannot  pay  Dryden  the  compliment  of  saying  that   he 
gave  the  example  as  well  as  precept,  especially  in  his  Virgil. 
lie  did  not  scruple  to  copy  Segrais  in  his  discourse  on  Epic 
Poetry.     "  Him  I  follow,  and  what  I  borrow  from  him  am 
ready  to  acknowledge  to  him ;   for,  impartially  speaking,  the 
French  are  as  much  better  critics  than  the  English  as  they 
are  worse  poets."2 

40.  The  greater  part  of  his  critical  writings  relates  to  the 
drama,  a  subject  with  which  he  was  very  conversant ;  but  he 
had  some  considerable  prejudices:   he  seems  never  to  have 
felt  the  transcendent  excellence  of  Shakspeare ;    and  some- 
times, perhaps,  his  own  opinions,  if  not  feigned,  are  biassed  by 
that  sort  of  self-defence  to  which  he  thought  himself  driven 
in  the  prefaces  to  his  several  plays.     He  had  many  enemies  en 
the  watch:  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  Rehearsal,  a  satire  < .(' 
great  wit,  had  exposed  to  ridicule  the  heroic  tragedies;3  a; id 

1  Vol.  lii.  p.  19.  parody  is   the  most  unfair  weapon  that 

P.  460.  ridicule  can   us*',   they   are   in   mo.-r   iii- 

8  This  comedy  -was  published  in  1672:  stances  warranted  by  tho  original. 

the  parodies  are  amusing;  and,  though  whether  he  resembles  DrjOen  or  net.  is  a 


CHAP.  VH.  ETMER  — SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE.  303 

many  were  afterwards  ready  to  forget  the  merits  of  the  poet 
in  the  delinquencies  of  the  politician.  "  What  Virgil  wrote," 
he  says,  "  in  the  vigor  of  his  age,  in  plenty  and  in  ease,  I  have 
undertaken  to  translate  in  my  declining  years ;  struggling 
with  wants,  oppressed  by  sickness,  curbed  in  my  genius,  liable 
to  be  misconstrued  in  all  I  write  ;  and  my  judges,  if  they  are 
noj  very  equitable,  already  prejudiced  against  me  by  the  lying 
character  which  has  been  given  them  of  my  morals."1 

41.  Dryden  will  hardly  be  charged  with  abandoning  too 
hastily  our  national  credit,  when  he  said  the  French   Rymer  on 
were   better  critics   than  the   English.       "We   had  tT&s^y- 
scarcely  any  thing  worthy  of  notice  to  allege  beyond  his  own 
writings.     The  Theatrum  Poetarum  by  Philips,  nephew  of 
Milton,  is  superficial  in  every  respect.     Thomas  Rymer,  best 
known  to  mankind  as  the  editor  of  the  Foedera,  but  a  strenu- 
ous advocate  for  the  Aristotelian  principles  in  the  drama,*  pub- 
lished, in  1678,  The  Tragedies   of  the  last  Age  considered 
and  examined  by  the  Practice  of  the  Ancients,  and  by  the 
Common  Sense    of  all  Ages.     This  contains    a   censure   of 
some  plays  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Shakspeare  and  Jon- 
son.     "I  have  chiefly  considered  the  fable  or  plot,  which  all 
conclude  to  be  the  soul  of  a  tragedy,  which  with  the  ancients 
is  always  found  to  be  a  reasonable  soul,  but  with  us  for  the 
most  part  a  brutish,  and  often  worse  than  brutish."2     I  have 
read  only  his  criticisms  on  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  King  and  No 
King,  and  Rollo ;   and,  as  the  conduct  and  characters  of  all 
three  are  far  enough  from  being  invulnerable,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing that  Rymer  has  often  well  exposed  them. 

42.  Next  to  Dryden,  the  second  place  among  the  polite 
writers  of  the  period  from  the  Restoration  to  the  end  gir  ^num 
of  the  century  has  commonly  been  given  to  Sir  Wil-  Temple's 
liam  Temple.     His  Miscellanies,  to  which  principal-  B 

ly  this  praise  belongs,  are  not  recommended  by  more  erudition 
than  a  retired  statesman  might  acquire  with  no  great  expense 
of  time,  nor  by  much  originality  of  reflection.  But,  if  Temple 
has  not  profound  knowledge,  he  turns  all  he  possesses  well  to 
ccount ;  if  his  thoughts  are  not  very  striking,  they  are  com- 
monly just.  He  has  less  eloquence  than  Bolingbroke,  but  is 

very  comic  personage :   the  character  is  y«ars  before  the  Rehearsal  was  published, 

said  by  Johnson  to  have  been  sketched  and  eonld  liaye  been  i»  no  way  obnoxiju* 

for  Darenant ;    but  I  much   doubt  this  to  it?  satire, 
report.    Daienant  had  been  dead  some       l  Vol.  hi  p.  557.  »  P  4. 


804  STYLE  OF  LOCKE  — SIR  G.  MACKENZIE.     PAKT  IV. 

also  free  from  his  restlessness  and  ostentation.  Much  also, 
•which  now  appears  superficial  in  Temple's  historical  surveys, 
was  far  less  familiar  in  his  age  :  he  has  the  merit  of  a  compre- 
hensive and  a  candid  mind.  His  style,  to  which  we  should 
particularly  refer,  will  be  found,  in  comparison  with  his  con- 
temporaries, highly  polished,  and  sustained  with  more  equabi 
lily  than  they  preserve,  remote  from  any  thing  either  pedantic 
or  humble.  The  periods  are  studiously  rhythmical ;  yet  tliey 
want  the  variety  and  peculiar  charm  that  we  admire  in  those 
of  Dryden. 

43.  Locke  is   certainly  a  good  writer,  relatively  to   the 
style  of       greater  part  of  his  contemporaries :   his  plain  and 
Locke.        manly  sentences  often  give  us  pleasure  by  the  word- 
ing alone.     But  he  has  some  defects :   in  his  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding,  he  is  often  too  figurative  for  the  sub- 
ject.    In  all  his  writings,  and  especially  in  the  Treatise  on 
Education,  he  is  occasionally  negligent,  and  though  not  vul- 
gar, at  least  according  to  the  idiom  of  his  age,  slovenly  in  the 
structure  of  his  sentences  as  well  as  the  choice  of  his  words  : 
he  is  not,  in  mere  style,  very  forcible,  and  certainly  not  very 
elegant. 

44.  The  Essays  of  Sir  George  Mackenzie  are  empty  and 
Sir  George    diffuse :  the  style  is  full  of  pedantic  words  to  a  de- 
Mackenzie's  gree  of  barbarism ;    and,  though  they  were  chiefly 

a>8'  written  after  the  Revolution,  he  seems  to  have  whol- 
ly formed  himself  on  the  older  writers,  such  as  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  or  even  Feltham.  He  affects  the  obsolete  and 
unpleasing  termination  of  the  third  person  of  the  verb  in  eth, 
which  was  going  out  of  use  even  in  the  pulpit,  besides  other 
rust  of  archaism.1  Nothing  can  be  more  unlike  the  manner 
of  Dryden,  Locke,  or  Temple.  In  his  matter  he  seems  a 
mere  declaimer,  as  if  the  world  would  any  longer  endure  the 
trivial  morality  which  the  sixteenth  century  had  borrowed 
from  Seneca,  or  the  dull  ethics  of  sermons.  It  is  probable, 
that,  as  Mackenzie  was  a  man  who  had  seen  and  read  much, 
he  must  have  some  better  passages  than  I  have  found  in 
glancing  shortly  at  his  works.  His  countryman,  Andrew 
Andrew  Fletcher,  is  a  better  master  of  English  style:  he 

'teher      writes  with  purity,  clearness,   and  spirit;    but   the 

1  [Tt  must  be  confessed  that  Instances  it  Is  scarcely  yet  disused,  at  least  in  very 

of  this  termination,  though  not  frequent,  grave  writings.    But  the  unpleasing  sound 

may  be  found  in  the  first  years  of  (JeorKo  of  th  is  a  sufficient  objection.  — 
111.,  or  even  later.    In  the  auxiliary  hat/i, 


CHAP.  VII.     ANDKEW   FLETCHER  — WALTON— WILKINS.     305 

substance  is  so  much  before  his  eyes,  that  he  is  little  solicitous 
about  language.  And  a  similar  character  may  be  given  to 
many  of  the  political  tracts  in  the  reign  of  William.  They 
are  well  expressed  for  their  purpose ;  their  English  is  per- 
spicuous, unaffected,  often  forcible,  and,  upon  the  whole,  much 
superior  to  that  of  similar  writings  in  the  reign  of  Charles: 
but  they  do  not  challenge  a  place  of  which  their  authors  never 
dreamed ;  they  are  not  to  be  counted  in  the  polite  literature 
of  England. 

45.  I  may  have  overlooked,  or  even  never  known,  some 
books  of  sufficient  value  to  deserve  mention ;  and  I  regret  that 
the  list  of  miscellaneous  literature  should  be  so  short.     But  it 
must  be  confessed  that  our  golden  age  did  not  begin  before 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  then  with  him  who   has   never 
since  been  rivalled  in  grace,  humor,  and  invention.   Walton,8 
Walton's  Complete  Angler,  published  in  1653,  seems,  Complete 
by  the  title,  a  strange  choice  out  of  all  the  books  of   Angler- 
half  a  century ;   yet  its  simplicity,  its  sweetness,  its  natural 
grace,  and  happy  intermixture  of  graver  strains  with  the  pre- 
cepts of  angling,  have  rendered  this  book  deservedly  popular, 
and  a  model  which  one  of  the  most  famous  among  our  late 
philosophers,  and  a  successful  disciple  of  Isaac  Walton  in  his 
favorite  art,  has  condescended  to  imitate. 

46.  A  book,  not  indeed  remarkable  for  its  style,  but  one 
which  I  could  hardly  mention  in  any  less  miscellane-   ^iiMna's 
ous  chapter  than  the  present,  —  though,  since  it  was   New 
published  in  1 638,  it  ought  to  have  been  mentioned 
before,  —  is  Wilkins's  Discovery  of  a  New  World,  or  a  Dis- 
course tending  to  prove  that  it  is  probable  there  may  bf!  anoth- 
er habitable  World  in  the  Moon,  with  a  Discourse  concerning 
the  Possibility  of  a  Passage  thither.     This  is  one  of  the  births 
of  that  inquiring  spirit,  that  disdain  of  ancient  prejudice,  which 
the  seventeenth  century  produced.     Bacon  was  undoubtedly 
the  father  of  it  in  England  ;  but  Kepler,  and,  above  all,  Gali- 
leo, by  the  new  truths  they  demonstrated,  made  men  fearless 
in  investigation  and  conjecture.     The  geographical  discoveries 
indeed  of  Columbus  and  Magellan  had  prepared  the  way  for 
conjectures  hardly  more  astonishing  in  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar 
than  those  had  been.     Wilkins  accordingly  begins  by  bringing 
a  host  of  sage  writers  who  had  denied  the  existence  of  antipo- 
des.     He   expressly  maintains   the   Copernican   theory,  but 
admits  that  it  was  generally  reputed  a  novel  paradox.     The 

VOL.   IV.  20 


306  ANTIQUITY  DEFENDED  BY  TEMPLE.         PART  IV. 

arguments  on  the  other  side  he  meets  at  some  length ;  and 
knew  how  to  answer,  by  the  principles  of  compound  motion, 
the  plausible  objection,  that  stones  falling  from  a  tower  were 
not  left  behind  by  the  motion  of  the  earth.  The  spots  in  the 
moon  he  took  for  sea,  and  the  brighter  parts  for  land.  A 
lunar  atmosphere  he  was  forced  to  hold,  and  gives  reasons 
for  thinking  it  probable.  As  to  inhabitants,  he  does  not  dwell 
long  on  the  subject.  Campanella,  and,  long  before  him,  Car- 
dinal Cusanus,  had  believed  the  sun  and  moon  to  be  inhabit- 
ed;1 and  Wilkins  ends  by  saying,  "Being  content  for  my 
own  part  to  have  spoken  so  much  of  it  as  may  conduce  to  show 
the  opinion  of  others  concerning  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  I 
dare  not  myself  affirm  any  thing  of  these  Selenites,  because 
I  know  not  any  ground  whereon  to  build  any  probable  opinion. 
But  I  think  that  future  ages  will  discover  more,  and  our  pos- 
terity perhaps  may  invent  some  means  for  our  better  acquaint- 
ance with  those  inhabitants."  To  this  he  comes  as  his  final 
proposition,  that  it  may  be  possible  for  some  of  our  posterity 
to  find  out  a  conveyance  to  this  other  world ;  and,  if  there  be 
inhabitants  there,  to  have  communication  with  them.  But 
this  chapter  is  the  worst  in  the  book,  and  shows  that  Wilkins, 
notwithstanding  his  ingenuity,  had  bu't  crude  notions  on  the 
principles  of  physics.  He  followed  this  up  by  what  I  have 
not  seen,  —  a  Discourse  concerning  a  new  Planet ;  tending 
to  prove  that  it  is  possible  our  Earth  is  one  of  the  Planets. 
This  appears  to  be  a  regular  vindication  of  the  Copernican 
theory,  and  was  published  in  1640. 

47.  The  cause  of  antiquity,  so  rudely  assailed  abroad  by 
Antiquity  Perrault  and  Fontenelle,  found  support  in  Sir  Wil- 
defeuded  by  Ham  Temple,  who  has  defended  it  in  one  of  his 
essays  with  more  zeal  than  prudence,  or  knowledge 
of  the  various  subjects  on  which  he  contends  for  the  rights  of 
the  past.  It  was,  in  fact,  such  a  credulous  and  superficial  view 
as  might  have  been  taken  by  a  pedant  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. For  it  is  in  science,  taking  the  word  largely,  full  a.s 
much  as  in  works  of  genius,  that  he  denies  the  ancients  to 
have  been  surpassed.  Temple's  Essay,  however,  was  translat- 
ed into  French,  and  he  was  supposed  by  many  to  have  ma  do 

1  "  Suspicamur  in  regione  solis  magis  intellectualis  naturae  solaren  sint  multum 

esse  solares,  claros  et  illuminates  intel-  in  aetu  et  parum  in  potontii,  terreni  vero 

lectuales  habitatores,  spjrituoliores  etiam  magis  in  potentii  et  parum  in  actu,  lu- 

qiiain  in  luna,  ubi  magis  lunatici,  et  in  nares  in  medio  fluctuautes,"  &c.  —  Cusar 

terra  magis  uiatcriales  et  crassi,  ut  Uli  nus,  apud  YVilkius,  p.  103  (edit.  1802). 


CHAP.  VII.          FICTION  — QUEVEDO'S  VISIONS.  307 

a  brilliant  vindication  of  injured  antiquity.  But  it  was  soon 
refuted  in  the  most  solid  book  that  was  written  in  wotton's 
any  country  upon  this  famous  dispute.  William  Beflection8- 
Wotton  published  in  1694  his  Reflections  on  Ancient  and 
Modern  Learning.1  He  draws  very  well  in  this  the  line  be- 
tween Temple  and  Perrault ;  avoiding  the  tasteless  judgment 
of  the  latter  in  poetry  and  eloquence,  but  pointing  out  the 
superiority  of  the  moderns  in  the  whole  range  of  physical 
science. 


SECT.  II.  —  ON  FICTION. 

French  Romances — La  Fayette  and  others  —  Pilgrim's  Progress  —  Turkish  Spy 

48.  SPAIN  had,  about  the  middle  of  this  century,  a  writer  of 
various  literature,  who  is  only  known  in  Europe  by  Quevedo'a 
his  fictions,  —  Quevedo.  His  Visions  and  his  Life  of  visions 
the  great  Tacano  were  early  translated,  and  became  very  popu- 
lar.2 They  may  be  reckoned  superior  to  any  thing  in  comic 
romance,  except  Don  Quixote,  that  the  seventeenth  century 
produced ;  and  yet  this  commendation  is  not  a  high  one.  In 
the  picaresque  style,  the  Life  of  Tacano  is  tolerably  amusing ; 
but  Quevedo,  like  others,  has  long  since  been  surpassed. 
The  Suenos,  or  Visions,  are  better :  they  show  spirit  and 
sharpness  with  some  originality  of  invention.  But  Las  Za- 
hurdas  de  Pluton,  which,  like  the  other  Visions,  bears  a  gene- 
ral resemblance  to  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  being  an  allegorical 
dream,  is  less  powerfully  and  graphically  written :  the  satire 
is  also  rather  too  obvious.  "  Lucian,"  says  Bouterwek,  "  fur- 
nished him  with  the  original  idea  of  satirical  visions ;  but 
Quevedo's  were  the  first  of  their  kind  in  modern  literature. 
Owing  to  frequent  imitations,  their  faults  are  no  longer  dis- 

i  Wotton  had  been  a  boy  of  astonishing  granting   a    degree  to  one  so  youtig,  ft 

precocity:  at  six  years  old.  he  could  readi-  special   record  of  his  extraordinary  pro- 

ly  translate  Latin.   Greek,  and  Hebrew;  ficiency  was  made  in  the  registers  of  the 

at    seven   he  added   pome  knowledge  of  university. — Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  7. 

Arabic  and  Syriac.     He  eutered  Catherine  -  The  translation  of  tliis,  '••  made  Eng 

Hall,   ('ambri'.l.ire.   in  his  tenth   \c:ir;    lit  lish  by  a  person  of  honor,"  takes  great 

thirteen,  when  he  took  the  degree  of  bach-  liberties  with  the  original,  and  undeavora 

elor  of  arts,  he  was  acquainted  with  twelve  to  excel  it  in  wit  by  means  of  frequent  in- 

languages.     There  being  no  precedent  of  terpolatiou. 


308  FRENCH  ROMANCES— MAD.  LA  FAYETTE.     PAM  IT. 

guised  by  the  charm  of  novelty ;   and  even  their  merits  have 
ceased  to  interest."1 

49.  No  species  of  composition  seems  less  adapted  to  the 
French        genius  of  the  French  nation  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
heroic         XIV.  than  the  heroic  romances  so  much  admired  in 

its  first  years.  It  must  be  confessed,  that  this  was 
but  the  continuance,  and  in  some  respect,  possibly,  an  im- 
pi'ovement,  of  a  long-established  style  of  fiction.  But  it  was 
not  fitted  to  endure  reason  or  ridicule ;  and  the  societies  of 
Paris  knew  the  use  of  both  weapons.  Moliere  sometimes 
tried  his  wit  upon  the  romances ;  and  Boileau,  rather  later  in 
the  day,  when  the  victory  had  been  won,  attacked  Mademoi- 
selle Scuderi  with  his  sarcastic  irony  in  a  dialogue  on  the 
heroes  of  her  invention. 

50.  The  first  step,  in  descending  from  the  heroic  romance, 
Novels  of     was  ^°  groun(l  n°t  altogether  dissimilar.     The  feats 
Madame       of  chivalry  were  replaced  by  less  wonderful  adven- 

aie  '  tures;  the  love  became  less  hyperbolical  in  expres- 
sion, though  not  less  intensely  engrossing  the  personages ;  the 
general  tone  of  manners  was  lowered  down  better  to  that  of 
nature,  or  at  least  of  an  ideality  which  the  imagination  did 
not  reject ;  a  style  already  tried  in  the  minor  fictions  of  Spain. 
The  earliest  novels  that  demand  attention  in  this  line  are 
those  of  the  Countess  de  la  Fayette,  celebrated,  while  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Vergne,  under  the  name  of  Laverna  in  the 
Latin  poetry  of  Menage.2  Zayde,  the  first  of  these,  is  entire- 
ly in  the  Spanish  style :  the  adventures  are  improbable,  but 
various,  and  rather  interesting  to  those  who  carry  no  scepti- 
cism into  fiction ;  the  language  is  polished  and  agreeable, 
though  not  very  animated ;  and  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  that, 
while  that  kind  of  novel  was  popular,  Zayde  would  obtain  a 
high  place.  It  has,  however,  the  usual  faults :  the  story  is 
broken  by  intervening  narratives,  which  occupy  too  large  a 
space  ;  the  sorrows  of  the  principal  characters  excite,  at  least 
as  I  should  judge,  little  sympathy  ;  and  their  sentiments  and 
emotions  are  sometimes  too  much  refined  in  the  alembic 
of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet.  In  a  later  novel,  the  Princess  of 

'  Hist,  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  471.  "  Lesbia  nulla  tibi,  nulla  est  tibi  dicta  Co- 

*  The  name  Laverna,  though  well-sound-  rinna  ; 

Ing,  was,  in  one  respect,  unlucky  ;  being  Carmine  landatur  Cynthia  nulla  tuo. 

that  given  by  antiquity  to  the  goddess  of  Sed  cum  doctorum  compilas  scrinia  va- 

thieves.     An  epigram  on  Menage,  almost,  turn, 

porhaps,  too  trite  to  be  quoted,  is  piquant  Nil  mirum,  si  sit  culta  Laverna  tibi." 
enough :  — 


CHAP.  VU.  SCARROX'S  EOMAX  COMIQUE.  309 

Cleves,  Madame  La  Fayette  threw  off  the  affectation  of  that 
circle  to  which  she  had  once  belonged ;  and  though  perhaps 
Zayde  is,  or  was  in  its  own  age,  the  more  celebrated  novel,  it 
seems  to  me,  that,  in  this,  she  has  excelled  herself.  The 
story,  being  nothing  else  than  the  insuperable  and  insidious, 
but  not  guilty,  attachment  of  a  married  lady  to  a  lover,  re- 
quired a  delicacy  and  correctness  of  taste  which  the  authoress 
has  well  displayed  in  it  The  probability  of  the  incidents, 
the  natural  course  they  take,  the  absence  of  all  complication 
and  perplexity,  give  such  an  inartificial  air  to  this  novel,  that 
we  can  scarcely  help  believing  it  to  shadow  forth  some  real 
event.  A  modern  novelist  would  probably  have  made  more 
of  the  story:  the  style  is  always  calm,  sometimes  almost  Ian 
guid ;  a  tone  of  decorous  politeness,  like  that  of  the  French 
stage,  is  never  relaxed ;  but  it  is  precisely  by  this  means  that 
the  writer  has  kept  up  a  moral  dignity,  of  which  it  would  have 
been  so  easy  to  lose  sight.  The  Princess  of  Cleves  is  perhaps 
the  first  work  of  mere  invention  (for,  though  the  characters  are 
historical,  there  is  no  known  foundation  for  the  story)  which 
brought  forward  the  manners  of  the  aristocracy ;  it  may  be 
said,  the  contemporary  manners ;  for  Madame  La  Fayette 
must  have  copied  her  own  times.  As  this  has  become  a  popu- 
lar style  of  fiction,  it  is  just  to  commemorate  the  novel  which 
introduced  it. 

51.  The  French  have  few  novels  of  this  class  in  the  seven 
teenth  century,  which  they  praise  :  those  of  Madame  cc!lTKI^-s 
Villedieu,  or  Des  Jardins,  may  deserve  to  be  except-  Roman 
ed ;  but  I  have  not  seen  them.  Scarron,  a  man  c 
deformed  and  diseased,  but  endowed  with  vast  gayety,  which 
generally  exuberated  in  buffoon  jests,  has  the  credit  of  having 
struck  out  into  a  hew  path  by  his  Roman  Comique.  The 
Spaniards,  however,  had  so  much  like  this,  that  we  cannot 
perceive  any  great  originality  in  Scarron.  The  Roman  Co- 
mique is  still  well  known,  and,  if  we  come  to  it  in  vacant 
moments,  will  serve  its  end  in  amusing  us ;  the  story  and 
characters  have  no  great  interest,  but  they  are  natural :  yet, 
•without  the  least  disparagement  to  the  vivacity  of  Scarron,  it 
is  still  true,  that  he  has  been  left  at  an  immense  distance  in 
observation  of  mankind,  in  humorous  character,  and  in  ludi- 
crous effect,  by  the  novelists  of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth 
centuries.  It  is  said  that  Scarron's  romance  is  written  in  a 
pure  style ;  and  some  have  even  pretended  that  he  has  not 


3 1 0  BERGERAC  —  SEGRAIS  —  PERRAULT.  PART  IV. 

been  without  effect  in  refining  the  language.  The  Roman 
Bourgeois  of  Furetiere  appears  to  be  a  novel  of  middle  life : 
it  had  some  reputation ;  but  I  cannot  speak  of  it  with  any 
knowledge. 

52.  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  had  some  share  in  directing  the 
Cyrano  de    public  taste  towards  those  extravagances   of  fancy 
Bergerac.     which   were   afterwards   highly   popular.      He   has 
been  imitated,  as  some  have  observed,  by  Swift  and  Voltaire, 
and  I  should  add,  to  a  certain  degree,  by  Hamilton  ;  but  all 
the  three  have  gone  far  beyond  him.     He  is  not  himself  a 
very  original  writer.     His  Voyage  to  the  Moon,  and  History 
of  the  Empire  of  the  Sun,  are  manifestly  suggested  by  the 
True  History  of  Lucian ;   and  he  had  modern  fictions,  espe- 
cially the  Voyage  to  the  Moon  by  Godwin,  mentioned  in  our 
last  volume,  which  he  had  evidently  read,  to  imp  the  wings  of 
an  invention  not  perhaps   eminently  fertile.     Yet  Bergerac 
has  the  merit  of  being  never  wearisome :  his  fictions  are  well 
conceived,  and  show  little  effort,  which  seems  also  the  cha- 
racter of  his  language  in  this  short  piece ;  though  his  letters 
had  been  written  in  the  worst  style  of  affectation,  so  as  to 
make  us  suspect  that  he  was  turning  the  manner   of  some 
gegrais        contemporaries  into  ridicule.     The  novels  of  Segniis, 

such  at  least  as  I  have  seen,  are  mere  pieces  of  light 
satire,  designed  to  amuse  by  transient  allusions  the  lady  by 
whom  he  was  patronized,  —  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 
If  they  deserve  any  regard  at  all,  it  is  as  links  in  the  history  of 
fiction  between  the  mock-heroic  romance,  of  which  Voiture 
had  given  an  instance,  and  the  style  of  fantastic  invention, 
which  was  perfected  by  Hamilton. 

53.  Charles  Perrault  may,  so  far  as  I  know,  be  said  to  have 
Perrauit      invented  a  kind  of  fiction  which  became  extremely 

popular,  and  has  had,  even  after  it  ceased  to  find 
direct  imitators,  a  perceptible  influence  over  the  lighter  litera- 
ture of  Europe.  The  idea  was  original,  and  happily  executed. 
Perhaps  he  sometimes  took  the  tales  of  children,  such  as  the 
tradition  of  many  generations  had  delivered  them :  but  much 
of  his  fairy  machinery  seems  to  have  been  his  own ;  and  1 
should  give  him  credit  for  several  of  the  stories,  though  it  is 
hard  to  form  a  guess.  He  gave  to  them  all  a  real  interest,  as 
far  as  could  be,  with  a  naturalness  of  expression,  an  arch 
nai'vete,  a  morality  neither  too  obvious  nor  too  refined,  and  a 
elight  poignancy  of  satire  on  the  world,  which  reader  the 


CHAP.  Tii.  HAMILTON  —  FENELON.  311 

Tales  of  Mother  Goose  almost  a  counterpart  in  prose  to  the 
Fables  of  La  Fontaine. 

54.  These  amusing  fictions  caught  the  fancy  of  an  indolent 
but  not  stupid  nobility.     The  court  of  Versailles  and   3^^^ 
all  Paris  resounded  with  fairy  tales  :  it  became  the 
popular  style  for  more  than  half  a  century.     But  few  of  these 
fall    within   our   limits.      Perrault's   immediate    followers  — 
Madame  Murat  and  the   Countess    D'Aunoy,  especially  the 
latter  ~-  have  some  merit ;   but  they  come  very  short  of  the 
happy  simplicity   and   brevity  we   find   in   Mother    Goose's 
Tales.     It  is  possible  that  Count  Antony  Hamilton  may  have 
written  those  tales  which  have  made  him  famous,  before  the 
end  of  the  century  ;  though  they  were  published  later.     But 
these,  with  many  admirable  strokes  of  wit  and  invention,  have 
too  forced  a  tone  in  both  these  qualities  ;  the  labor  is  too  evi- 
dent, and,  thrown  away  on  such  trifling,  excites   something 
like  contempt :  they  are  written  for  an  exclusive  coterie,  not 
for  the  world ;   and  the  world  in  all  such  cases  will  sooner 
or  later  take  its  revenge.      Yet  Hamilton's  tales  are  incom- 
parably  superior    to  what  followed:    inventions   alternately 
dull  and  extravagant,  a  style  negligent  or  mannered,  an  im- 
morality passing  onward  from  the  licentiousness  of  the  Re- 
gency to  the  debased  philosophy  of  the  ensuing  age,  became 
the    general   characteristics   of  these    fictions,    which   finally 
expired  in  the  neglect  and  scorn  of  the  world. 

55.  The  Telemaque  of  Fenelon,  after  being  suppressed  in 
France,  appeared  in  Holland  clandestinely  without  Telemaque 
the  author's  consent  in  1699.     It  is  needless  to  say  of  FeneloD 
that  it  soon  obtained  the  admiration  of  Europe ;  and  perhaps 
there  is  no  book  in  the  French  language  that  has  been  more 
read.      Fenelon   seems  to   have   conceived,  that,  metre   not 
being  essential,  as  he  assumed,  to  poetry,  he  had,  by  imitating 
the  Odyssey  in  Telemaque,  produced  an  epic  of  as  legitimate 
a  character  as  his  model.     But  the  boundaries  between  epic 
poetry,  especially  such  epics  as  the  Odyssey,  and  romance, 
were  only  perceptible  by  the  employment   of  verse   in   the 
"ormer :   no  elevation  of  character,  no  ideality  of  conception, 
no  charm  of  imagery  or  emotion,  had  been  denied  to  romance. 
The  language  of  poetry  had  for  two  centuries  been  seized  for 
its  use.     Telemaque  must  therefore  take  its  place  among  ro- 
mances ;  but  still  it  is  true  that  no  romance  had  breathed  sc 
classical  a  spirit,  none  had  abounded  so  much  with  the  richness 


312  ENGLISH  ROMANCES.  PART  17. 

of  poetical  language  (much,  in  fact,  of  Homer,  Virgil,  and 
Sophocles,  having  been  woven  in  with  no  other  change  than 
verbal  translation),  nor  had  any  preset  ved  such  dignity  in  its 
circumstances,  such  beauty,  harmony,  and  nobleness  in  its  dic- 
tion. It  would  be  as  idle  to  say  that  Fenelon  was  indebted  to 
D'Urfe  and  Calprenede,  as  to  deny  that  some  degree  of  re- 
semblance may  be  found  in  their  poetical  prose.  The  one 
belonged  to  the  morals  of  chivalry,  generous  but  exaggerated  ; 
the  other,  to  those  of  wisdom  and  religion.  The  one  has 
been  forgotten  because  its  tone  is  false :  the  other  is  ever  ad- 
mired, and  is  only  less  regarded  because  it  is  true  in  excess, 
because  it  contains  too  much  of  what  we  know.  Telemaque, 
like  some  other  of  Fenelon's  writings,  is  to  be  considered  in 
reference  to  its  object ;  an  object  of  all  the  noblest,  being  to 
form  the  character  of  one  to  whom  many  must  look  up  for 
their  welfare,  but  still  very  different  from  the  inculcation  of 
profound  truth.  The  beauties  of  Telemaque  are  very  nume- 
rous ;  the  descriptions,  and  indeed  the  whole  tone  of  the  book, 
have  a  charm  of  grace  something  like  the  pictures  of  Guido : 
but  there  is  also  a  certain  languor  which  steals  over  us  in 
reading ;  and,  though  there  is  no  real  want  of  variety  in  the 
narration,  it  reminds  us  so  continually  of  its  source,  the  Ho- 
meric legends,  as  to  become  rather  monotonous.  The  aban- 
donment of  verse  has  produced  too  much  diffuseness :  it 
will  be  observed,  if  we  look  attentively,  that,  where  Homer 
is  circumstantial,  Fenelon  is  more  so ;  in  this  he  sometimes 
approaches  the  minuteness  of  the  romancers.  But  these 
defects  are  more  than  compensated  by  the  moral  and  even 
aesthetic  excellence  of  this  romance. 

56.  If  this  most  fertile  province  of  all  literature,  as  we 
Deficiency  have  now  discovered  it  to  be,  had  yielded  so  little 
of  English  even  in  France,  a  nation  that  might  appear  eminent- 

Tom;mces.      ,     ,,,      ,  ,'         ..     ,  i         i  /»  Ai 

ly  fitted  to  explore  it,  down  to  the  close  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  we  may  be  less  surprised  at  the  deficiency  of 
our  own  country.  Yet  the  scarcity  of  original  fiction  in  Eng- 
"laud  was  so  great  as  to  be  inexplicable  by  any  reasoning. 
The  public  taste  was  not  incapable  of  being  pleased ;  for  all 
the  novels  and  romances  of  the  Continent  were  readily  trans- 
lated. The  manners  of  all  classes  were  as  open  to  humorous 
description,  the  imagination  was  as  vigorous,  the  heart  as 
eusceptible,  as  in  other  countries.  But  not  only  we  find  no- 
thing good :  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  we  find  any  thing  at 


CHAT.  VII.  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS.  313 

all  that  has  ever  attracted  notice  in  English  romance.  The 
Parthenissa  of  Lord  Orrery,  in  the  heroic  style,  and  the  short 
novels  of  Afra  Belin,  are  nearly  as  many,  perhaps,  as  could  be 
detected  in  old  libraries.  We  must  leave  the  beaten  track 
before  we  can  place  a  single  work  in  this  class. 

57.  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  essentially  belongs  to  it;  and 
John  Bunyan  may  pass  for  the  father  of  our  novel-  pilgrim's 
ists.  His  success  in  a  line  of  composition  like  the  pr°sr'M8- 
spiritual  romance  or  allegory,  which  seems  to  have  been 
frigid  and  unreadable  in  the  few  instances  where  it  had  been 
attempted,  is  doubtless  enhanced  by  his  want  of  all  learning, 
and  his  low  station  in  life.  He  was  therefore  rarely,  if  ever, 
an  imitator :  he  was  never  enchained  by  rules.  Bunyan  pos- 
sessed, in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  power  of  representation : 
his  inventive  faculty  was  considerable ;  but  the  other  is  his 
distinguishing  excellence.  He  saw,  and  makes  us  see,  what 
he  describes  :  he  is  circumstantial  without  prolixity,  and,  in 
the  variety  and  frequent  change  of  his  incidents,  never  loses 
sight  of  the  unity  of  his  allegorical  fable.  His  invention  was 
enriched,  and  rather  his  choice  determined,  by  one  rule  he 
had  laid  down  to  himself,  —  the  adaptation  of  all  the  inciden- 
tal language  of  Scripture  to  his  own  use.  There  is  scarce  a 
circumstance  or  metaphor  in  the  Old  Testament  which  does 
not  find  a  place,  bodily  and  literally,  in  the  story  of  the  Pil- 
grim's Progress;  and  this  peculiar  artifice  has  made  his  own 
imagination  appear  more  creative  than  it  really  is.  In  the 
conduct  of  the  romance,  no  rigorous  attention  to  the  propriety 
of  the  allegory  seems  to  have  been  uniformly  preserved. 
Vanity  Fair,  or  the  cave  of  the  two  giants,  might,  for  any 
thing  we  see,  have  been  placed  elsewhere ;  but  it  is  by  this 
neglect  of  exact  parallelism  that  he  better  keeps  up  the 
reality  of  the  pilgrimage,  and  takes  off  the  coldness  of  mere 
allegory.  It  is  also  to  be  remembered,  that  we  read  this 
book  at  an  age  when  the  spiritual  meaning  is  either  little 
perceived  or  little  regarded.  In  his  language,  nevertheless, 
Bunyan  sometimes  mingles  the  signification  too  much  with 
the  fable :  we  might  be  perplexed  between  the  imaginary 
and  the  real  Christian ;  but  the  liveliness  of  narration  soon 
brings  us  back,  or  did  at  least  when  we  were  young,  to  the 
fields  of  fancy.  Yet  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  like  some  other 
books,  has  of  late  been  a  little  overrated :  its  exceUence  is 
great,  but  it  is  not  of  the  highest  rank ;  and  we  should  be 


314  '     TURKISH  SPI.  FAKT  IV 

careful  not  to  break  down  the  landmarks  of  fame  by  placing 
the  John  Bunyans  and  the  Daniel  De  Foes  among  the  Dii 
Majores  of  our  worship. 

58.  I  am  inclined  to  claim  for  England,  not  the  invention, 
Turkish  but,  f°r  tne  most  part,  the  composition,  of  another 
spy-  book,  which,  being  grounded  on  fiction,  may  be  classed 

here, — the  Turkish  Spy.  A  secret  emissary  of  the  Porte  is 
supposed  to  remain  at  Paris  in  disguise  for  above  forty  years, 
from  1635  to  1682.  His  correspondence  with  a  number  of 
persons,  various  in  situation,  and  with  whom,  therefore,  his 
letters  assume  various  characters,  is  protracted  through  eight 
volumes.  Much,  indeed  most,  relates  to  the  history  of  those 
times,  and  to  the  anecdotes  connected  with  it ;  but  in  these  we 
do  not  find  a  large  proportion  of  novelty.  The  more  remarka- 
ble letters  are  those  which  run  into  metaphysical  and  theologi- 
cal speculation.  These  are  written  with  an  earnest  seriousness, 
yet  with  an  extraordinary  freedom,  such  as  the  feigned  garb 
of  a  Mohammedan  could  hardly  have  exempted  from  censure 
in  Catholic  countries.  Mahmud,,  the  mysterious  writer,  stands 
on  a  sort  of  eminence  above  all  human  prejudice :  he  was 
privileged  to  judge  as  a  stranger  of  the  religion  and  philoso- 
phy of  Europe ;  but  his  bold  spirit  ranges  over  the  field  of 
Oriental  speculation.  The  Turkish  Spy  is  no  ordinary  pro- 
duction, but  contains  as  many  proofs  of  a  thoughtful,  if  not 
very  profound  mind,  as  any  we  can  find.  It  suggested  the 
Persian  Letters  to  Montesquieu,  and  the  Jewish  to  Argens ; 
the  former  deviating  from  his  model  with  the  originality  of 
talent,  the  latter  following  it  with  a  more  servile  closeness. 
Probability,  that  is,  a  resemblance  to  the  personated  character 
of  an  Oriental,  was  not  to  be  attained,  nor  was  it  desirable,  in 
any  of  these  fictions  ;  but  Mahmud  has  something  not  Euro- 
pean, sometliing  of  a  solitary,  insulated  wanderer,  gazing  on  a 
world  that  knows  him  not,  which  throws,  to  my  feelings,  a  strik- 
ing charm  over  the  Turkish  Spy ;  while  the  Usbek  of  Mon- 
tesquieu has  become  more  than  half  Parisian  ;  his  ideas  are 
neither  those  of  his  birthplace,  nor  such  as  have  sprung  up 
unbidden  from  his  soul,  but  those  of  a  polite,  witty,  and  acute 
society ;  and  the  correspondence  with  his  harem  in  Persia, 
which  Montesquieu  has  thought  attractive  to  the  reader,  is  not 
much  more  interesting  than  it  is  probable,  and  ends  in  the 
style  of  a  common  romance.  As  to  the  Jewish  Letters  of 
Argens,  it  is  far  inferior  to  the  Turkish  Spy,  and,  in  fact, 
rather  an  insipid  book. 


CHAP.  TH. 


CHIEFLY  OF  EXGLISH  ORIGIN. 


315 


59.   It  may  be  asked  why  I  dispute  the  claim  made  by  all 
the  foreign  biographers  in  favor  of  John  Paul  Mara-   o^,.  of 
na,  a  native  of  Genoa,  who  is  asserted  to  have  pub-   English 
lished  the  first  volume  of  the  Turkish  Spy  at  Paris  Oli^- 
in  1634,  and  the  rest  in  subsequent  years.1     But  I  am  not 
disputing  that  Marana  is  the  author  of  the  thirty  letters  pub- 
lished in  1684,  and  of  twenty  more  in  1686,  which  have  been 
literally  translated  into  English,  and  form  about  half  the  first 
volume  in  English  of  our  Turkish  Spy.2     Nor  do  I  doubt,  in 
the  least,  that  the  remainder  of  that  volume  had  a  French 
original,  though  I  have  never  seen  it.     But  the  later  volumes 
of  the  Espion  Turc,  in  the  edition  of  1696,  with  the  date  of 
Cologne,  which,  according  to  Barbier,  is  put  for  Rouen,3  are 


1  The  first  portion  was  published  at 
Paris,  and  also  at  Amsterdam.  Bayle 
gives  the  following  account:  "Get  ou- 
Yrage  a  etc  contrefeit  a  Amsterdam  dn 
consentement  du  libraire  de  Paris,  qui 
lra  le  premier  imprime.  D  sera  compose 
de  plusieurs  petite  volumes  qui  contien- 
dront  les  eTenernens  les  plus  considera- 
bles de  la  chretiente  en  general,  et  de  la 
France  en  particulier,  depuis  1'annee  1637 
jusqu'en  1632  Cn  Italien,  natif  de  Genes, 
Marana.  donne  ces  relations  pour  des  let- 
tres  ecrites  aux  ministres  de  la  Porte  par 
un  espion  Turc  qui  se  tenoit  cache  i  Paris. 
II  pretend  les  avoir  traduites  de  1'Arabe 
en  Italien:  et  il  raconte  forte  en  long 
comment  il  les  a  trouvees.  On  soupconne 
avec  beaucoup  d'apparence,  que  c'est  un 
tour  d:esprit  Italien.  et  une  fiction  ingeni- 
euse  semblable  acelle  dont  Virgile  s'est  servi 
pour  louer  Auguste."  &c.  — Xouvelles  de 
la  Republique  des  Lettres :  Mars.  1684 :  in 
tEuvres  diverses  de  Bayle,  vol.  L  p.  20. 
The  Espion  Turc  is  not  to  be  traced  in  the 
index  to  the  Journal  des  Soavans  :  nor  is 
it  noticed  in  the  Bibliotheque  UniverseUe. 

s  Salfi.  xiv.  61 :  Biogr.  Univ. 

3  Dictionnaire  des  Anonymes,  vol.  i. 
p.  40-3.  Barbier 's  notice  of  L'Espion.  dans 
les  eours  des  princes  Chretiens,  ascribes 
four  volumes  out  of  six,  which  appear  to 
contain  as  much  as  our  eight  volumes, 
to  Marana,  and  conjectures  that  the  last 
two  are  by  another  hand  ;  but  does  not 
intimate  the  least  suspicion  of  an  English 
original.  And,  as  his  authority  is  consi- 
derable. I  must  fortify  my  own  opinion  by 
what  evidence  I  can  find. 

The  preface  to  the  second  volume  (Eng- 
lish) of  the  Turkish  Spy  begins  thus: 
"  Three  years  are  now  elapsed  since  the 
first  volume  of  letters  written  by  a  Spy  at 
Paris  was  published  in  English  ;  and  it 
was  expected  that  a  second  should  have 
eouie  out  long  before  this.  The  favorable 


reception  which  that  found  amongst  an 
sorts  of  readers  would  have  encouraged  a 
speedy  translation  of  the  rest,  had  there 
been  extant  any  French  edition  of  more 
than  the  first  part.  Bat,  after  the  strictest 
inquiry,  none  could  be  heard  of:  and,  as  for 
the  Italian,  our  booksellers  have  not  that 
correspondence  in  those  parts  as  they  have 
in  the  more  neighboring  countries  of 
France  and  Holland.  So  that  it  was  a 
wort  despaired  of  to  recover  any  more  of 
this  Arabian's  memoirs.  We  little  dreamed 
that  the  Florentines  had  been  so  busy  in 
printing,  and  so  successful  in  selling,  the 
continued  translation  of  these  Arabian 
epistles,  till  it  was  the  fortune  of  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman  to  travel  in  those  parts 
last  summer,  and  discover  the  happy  news. 
I  will  not  forestall  his  letter,  which  is 
annexed  to  this  pre&ce.''  A  pretended 
letter  with  the  signature  of  Daniel  Salt- 
marsh  follows,  in  which  the  imaginary 
author  tells  a  strange  tale  of  the  manner 
in  which  a  certain  learned  physician  of 
Ferrara,  Julio  de  Medici,  descended  from 
the  Medicean  family,  put  these  volumes, 
in  the  Italian  language,  into  his  hands. 
This  letter  is  dated  Amsterdam,  Sept.  9, 
1690 ;  and,  as  the  preface  refers  it  to  the  last 
summer.  I  hence  conclude  that  the  first 
edition  of  the  second  volume  of  the  Turk- 
ish Spy  was  in  1691 :  for  I  have  not  seen 
that,  nor  any  other  e-:lition  earlier  than 
the  fifth,  printed  in  1702. 

Marana  is  said  by  Salfl  and  others  to 
have  left  France  in  1(539,  having  fallen 
into  a  depression  of  spirits.  Xow.  the  first 
thirty  letters,  about  one  thirty -second 
part  of  the  entire  work,  were  published  in 

1  about  an  equal  length  : 
I  admit  that  he  had  time  to  double  the-* 
portions,  and  thus  to  publish  one-eighth 
of  the  whole :  but  is  it  likely  that  between 
16S5  and  1689  he  could  have  given  tha 
rest  to  the  world?  If  we  are  not  struck 


316  THE  TURKISH  SPY.  PAKT  IV. 

avowedly  translated  from  the  English.  And  to  the  second 
volume  of  our  Turkish  Spy,  published  in  1691,  is  prefixed  an 
account,  not  very  credible,  of  the  manner  in  which  the  volumes 
subsequent  to  the  first  had  been  procured  by  a  traveller,  in 
the  original  Italian ;  no  French  edition,  it  is  declared,  being 
known  to  the  booksellers.  That  no  Italian  edition  ever  ex- 
isted, is,  I  apprehend,  now  generally  admitted ;  and  it  is  to  be 
shown,  by  those  who  contend  for  the  claims  of  Marana  to 
seven  out  of  the  eight  volumes,  that  they  were  published 
in  France  before  1691  and  the  subsequent  years,  when  they 
appeared  in  English.  The  Cologne  or  Rouen  edition  of  1696 
follows  the  English  so  closely,  that  it  has  not  given  the  origi- 
nal letters  of  the  first  volume,  published  with  the  name  of 
Marana,  but  rendered  them  back  from  the  translation. 

60.  In  these  early  letters,  I  am  ready  to  admit,  the  scheme 
of  the  Turkish  Spy  may  be  entirely  traced.  Marana  appears 
not  only  to  have  planned  the  historical  part  of  the  letters,  but 
to  have  struck  out  the  more  original  and  striking  idea  of  a 
Mohammedan  wavering  with  religious  scruples,  which  the 
English  continuator  has  followed  up  with  more  philosophy 
and  erudition.  The  internal  evidence  for  their  English  origin, 
in  all  the  latter  volumes,  is,  to  my  apprehension,  exceedingly 
strong ;  but  I  know  the  difficulty  of  arguing  from  this  to  con- 
vince a  reader.  The  proof  we  demand  is  the  production  of 
these  volumes  in  French,  that  is,  the  specification  of  some 
public  or  private  library  where  they  may  be  seen,  in  any  edi- 
tion anterior  to  1691 ;  and  nothing  short  of  this  can  be  satis- 
factory evidence.1 

by  this,  is  it  likely  that  the  English  trans-  15  it  is  said,  that  her  father,  Sir  Kotrrr 

later    should    have  fabricated  the  story  Manley,  was  the  genuine  author  of  the 

above  mentioned,  when  the  public  might  first  volume  of  th»  Turkish   Spy.      Dr. 

know  that  there  was  actually  a  French  Midgley,  an  ingenious  physician,  related 

original  which  he   had  rendered?      The  to  the  family  by  marriage,  had  the  charge 

invention  seems  without  motive.     Again:  of  looking  over  his  papers,  among  which 

how  cume  the  French  edition  of  1696  to  he  found  that  manuscript,  which  he  easily 

he  an  avowed  translation  from  the  English,  reserved  to  his  proper  use ;  and,  both  by 

when,  according  to  the  hypothesis  of  M.  his  own  pen  and  the  assistance  of  some 

]'.!irbier,  the  volumes  of  Marana  had  all  others,  continued  the  work  until  the  eighth 

been  published  in  France?     Surely,  till  volume,  without  ever  having  the  ju.-fico 

thc.-e  appear,  we  have  reason  to  suspect  to  name  the  author  of  the  first."  — .MS. 

their  existence  ;   and   the   onus  probandi  note  in  the  copy  of  the  Turkish  Spy  (edit, 

lies  now  on  the  advocates  of  Marana's  1732)  in  the  British  Museum, 
claim.  Another  MS.  note  in  the  same  volume 

1  I  shall  now  produce  some  direct  evi-  gives  the  following  extract  from  Dunfrm's 

ilniire  for  the  English  authorship  of  seven  Life  and  Errors:    "Mr.  Bradslmw  is  the 

out  of  eight  parts  of  the  Turkish  Spy.  best  accomplished  hackney  writer  I  have 

••  In  the  life  of  Mrs.  Mauley,  published  met  with  :  his  crenius  was  quite  above  the 

under  the  title  of  •  The   Adventures  of  common  sizo,  ami  his  style  was  inco:npiir:i- 

Rivella,'  printed  in  1714.  in  pages  14  and  blv  flue.  ...  So  soon  as  I  saw  tho  first 


CHAP.  VTT. 


SWIFT'S  TALE  OF  A  TUB. 


317 


61.  It  would  not,  perhaps,  be  unfair  to  bring  within  the 
pale  of  the  seventeenth  century  an  effusion  of  genius  g^^ft's  Tale 
sufficient  to  redeem  our  name  in  its  annals  of  fiction.  of  a  Tub- 
The  Tale  of  a  Tub,  though  not  published  till  1704,  was  chiefly 
written,  as  the  author  declares,  eight  years  before ;  and  the 
Battle  of  the  Books,  subjoined  to  it,  has  every  appearance  of 
recent  animosity  against  the  opponents  of  Temple  and  Boyle, 
in  the  question  of  Phalaris.  The  Tale  of  a  Tub  is,  in  my 
apprehension,  the  masterpiece  of  Swift :  certainly  Rabelais 
has  nothing  superior,  even  in  invention,  nor  any  thing  so  con- 
densed, so  pointed,  so  full  of  real  meaning,  of  biting  satire,  of 
felicitous  analogy.  The  Battle  of  the  Books  is  such  an  im- 
provement of  the  similar  combat  in  the  Lutrin,  that  we  can 
hardly  own  it  is  an  imitation. 


Tolnme  of  the  Turkish  Spy,  the  very  style 
and  manner  of  writing  convinced  me  that 
Bradshaw  was  the  author.  .  .  .  Brad- 
Bhaw's  wife  owned  that  Dr.  Midgley  had 
engaged  him  in  a  work  which  would  take 
him  some  years  to  finish,  for  which  the 
doctor  was  to  pay  him  40s.  per  sheet ;  .  .  . 
BO  that  'tis  very  prohable  (for  I  cannot 
swear  I  saw  him  write  it),  that  Mr.  William 
Bradshaw  was  the  author  of  the  Turkish 
Spy :  were  it  not  for  this  discovery,  Dr. 
Midgley  had  gone  off  with  the  honor  of 
that  performance."  It  thus  appears  that 
in  England  it  was  looked  upon  as  an  ori- 
ginal work ;  though  the  authority  of  Dun- 
ton  is  not  very  good  for  the  facts  he  tells, 
and  that  of  Mrs.  Manley  much  worse. 
But  I  do  not  quote  them  as  evidence  of 
such  facts,  hut  of  common  report.  Mrs. 
Manley,  who  claims  for  her  father  the 
first  volume,  certainly  written  hy  Marana, 
must  be  set  aside  :  as  to  Dr.  Midgley  and 
Mr.  Bradshaw.  I  know  nothing  to  confirm 
or  refute  what  is  here  said. 


[The  hypothesis  of  these  notes,  that  all 
the  Turkish  Spy,  after  the  first  of  our  eight 
volumes,  is  of  English  origin,  has  been 
controverted  in  the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine hy  persons  of  learning  and  acuteness. 
I  would  surrender  my  own  opinion,  if  I 
could  see  sufficient  grounds  for  doing  so  ; 
hut,  as  yet,  Marana's  pretensions  are  nofc 
substantiated  by  the  evidence  which  I 
demanded,  —  the  proof  of  any  edition  in 
French  anterior  to  that  of  onr  Turkish 
Spy,  the  second  volume  of  which  (there 
is  no  dispute  about  Marana's  authorship 
of  the  first)  appeared  in  1691,  with  a  pre- 
face denying  the  existence  of  a  French 
original.  Those  who  have  had  recourse 
to  the  arbitrary  supposition  that  Marana 
communicated  his  manuscript  to  some 
English  translator,  who  published  it  as 
his  own,  should  be  aware  that  a  mere  pos- 
sibility, without  a  shadow  of  evidence, 
even  if  it  served  to  explain  th«  facts,  can- 
not be  received  in  historical  criticism  as 
truth.— 1842.] 


318  PHYSICAL   AND  OTHER  LITERATURE.        TAUT  IV 


CHAPTER 

HISTORY  OF  PHYSICAL  AND  OTHER  LITERATURE,  FROM  1650  TO  1700 


SECT.  I.  —  ON  EXPERIMENTAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Institutions  for  Science  at  Florence,  London,  Paris  —  Chemistry  —  Boyle 
and  others. 

1.  WE  have  now  arrived,  according  to  the  method  pursued 

in  corresponding  periods,  at  the  history  of  mathema- 

Eeasons  for  ,          i      i        •      i        •  •      xi.'    'i  AJ.  />   ^ 

omitting  tical  and  physical  science  in  the  latter  part  or  the 
mathema-  seventeenth  century.  But  I  must  here  entreat  my 
readers  to  excuse  the  omission  of  that  which  ought 
to  occupy  a  prominent  situation  in  any  work  that  pretends  to 
trace  the  general  progress  of  human  knowledge.  The  length 
to  which  I  have  found  myself  already  compelled  to  extend 
these  volumes  might  be  an  adequate  apology  ;  but  I  have  one 
more  insuperable  in  the  slightness  of  my  own  acquaintance 
with  subjects  so  momentous  and  difficult,  and  upon  which  I 
could  not  write  without  presumptuousness  and  much  peril  of 
betraying  ignorance.  The  names,  therefore,  of  Wallis  and 
Huygens,  Newton  and  Leibnitz,  must  be  passed  with  distant 
reverence. 

2.  This  was  the  age  when  the  experimental  philosophy  to 
Academy     which  Bacon  had  held  the  torch,  and  which   had 

already  made  considerable  progress,  especially  in 
Italy,  was  finally  established  on  the  ruins  of  arbitra- 
ry figments  and  partial  inductions.  This  philosophy  was  sig- 
nally indebted  to  three  associations,  the  eldest  of  which  did 
not  endure  long ;  but  the  others  have  remained  to  this  day  the 
perennial  fountains  of  science,  —  the  Academy  del  Cimento 
at  Florence,  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  the  Academy  of 
Sciences  at  Paris.  The  first  of  these  was  established  in  1 657, 
with  the  patronage  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  II.,  but 
under  the  peculiar  can;  of  his  brother  Leopold.  Both  were. 


CHAP.  Till.  ROYAL  SOCIETY.  319 

in  a  manner  at  that  time  remarkable,  attached  to  natural  phi- 
losophy ;  and  Leopold,  less  engaged  in  public  affairs,  had  long 
carried  on  a  correspondence  with  the  learned  of  Europe.  It 
is  said  that  the  advice  of  Viviani,  one  of  the  greatest  geome- 
ters that  Europe  has  produced,  led  to  this  institution.  The 
name  which  this  academy  assumed  gave  promise  of  their 
fundamental  rule,  —  the  investigation  of  truth  by  experiment 
alone.  The  number  of  academicians  was  unlimited ;  and  all 
that  was  required  as  an  article  of  faith  was  the  abjuration  of 
all  faith,  a  resolution  to  inquire  into  truth  without  regard  to 
any  previous  sect  of  philosophy.  This  academy  lasted,  un- 
fortunately, but  ten  years  in  vigor:  it  is  a  great  misfortune 
for  any  literary  institution  to  depend  on  one  man,  and  es- 
pecially on  a  prince,  who,  shedding  a  factitious  as  well  as 
sometimes  a  genuine  lustre  round  it,  is  not  easily  replaced 
without  a  diminution  of  the  world's  regard.  Leopold,  in 
1667,  became  a  cardinal,  and  was  thus  withdrawn  from  Flo- 
rence ;  others  of  the  Academy  del  Cimento  died,  or  went 
away ;  and  it  rapidly  sunk  into  insignificance.  But  a  volume 
containing  reports  of  the  yearly  experiments  it  made  —  among 
others,  the  celebrated  one,  proving,  as  was  then  supposed,  the 
incompressibility  of  water  —  is  generally  esteemed.1 

3.  The  germ  of  our  Royal  Society  may  be  traced  to 
the  year  1645,  when  Wallis,  Wilkins,  Glisson,  and  Koyai  So- 
others less  known,  agreed  to  meet  weekly  at  a  pri-  "«')"• 
vate  house  in  London,  in  order  to  converse  on  subjects  con 
nected  with  natural,  and  especially  experimental  philosophy. 
Some  of  these  soon  afterwards  settled  in  Oxford :  and  thus 
arose  two  little  societies  in  connection  with  each  other ;  those 
at  Oxford  being  recruited  by  Ward,  Petty,  Willis,  and  Ba- 
thurst.  They  met  at  Petty's  lodgings  till  he  removed  to 
Ireland  in  1652 ;  afterwards  at  those  of  Wilkins,  in  Wadham 
College,  till  he  became  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
in  1 659 ;  about  which  time  most  of  the  Oxford  philosophers 
came  to  London,  and  held  their  meetings  in  Gresham  College. 
They  became  more  numerous  after  the  Restoration,  which 
gave  better  hope  of  a  tranquillity  indispensable  for  science ; 
and  on  the  28th  of  November,  1 660,  agreed  to  form  a  regular 
society,  which  should  meet  weekly  for  the  promotion  of  natural 
philosophy :  their  registers  are  kept  from  this  time.2  The 

1  Galiuzzi.  Storia  del  Gran  Dncato.  rol.        *  Birch's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  TO!,  i 
Yii.  p.  240 ;  Tir.iboschi,  xi.  214  :  Corniani,    p.  1. 
Tiii.  29 


820  ACADEMY  OF  SCIENCES  AT  PARIS.          PART  IV. 

king,  rather  fond  himself  of  these  subjects,  from  the  beginning 
afforded  them  his  patronage :  their  first  charter  is  dated  loth 
July,  1662,  incorporating  them  by  the  style  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety, and  appointing  Lord  Brouncker  the  first  president, 
assisted  by  a  council  of  twenty ;  the  conspicuous  names  among 
which  are  Boyle,  Kenelm  Digby,  Wilkins,  Wren,  Evelyn, 
and  Oldenburg.1  The  last  of  these  was  secretary,  and  editor 
of  the  Philosophical  Transactions ;  the  first  number  of  which 
appeared  March  1,  1665,  containing  sixteen  pages  in  quarto. 
These  were  continued  monthly,  or  less  frequently,  according 
to  the  materials  he  possessed.  Oldenburg  ceased  to  be  the 
editor  in  1667,  and  was  succeeded  by  Grew,  as  he  was  by 
Hooke.  These  early  transactions  are  chiefly  notes  of  con- 
versations and  remarks  made  at  the  meetings,  as  well  as  of 
experiments  either  then  made,  or  reported  to  the  society.2 

4.  The  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris  was  established  in 
Academy  of  1666,  under  the  auspices  of  Colbert.     The  king  as- 
Sciences  at  signed  to  them  a  room  in  the  Royal  Library  for  their 

meetings.  Those  first  selected  were  all  mathema- 
ticians ;  but  other  departments  of  science,  especially  chemistry 
and  anatomy,  afterwards  furnished  associates  of  considerable 
name.  It  seems,  nevertheless,  that  this  academy  did  not 
cultivate  experimental  philosophy  with  such  unremitting  zeal 
as  the  Royal  Society,  and  that  abstract  mathematics  have 
always  borne  a  larger  proportion  to  the  rest  of  their  inquiries. 
They  published  in  this  century  ten  volumes,  known  as  Anciens 
Memoires  de  1' Academic.  But  near  its  close,  in  1697,  they 
received  a  regular  institution  from  the  king,  organizing  them 
in  a  manner  analogous  to  the  two  other  great  literary  founda- 
tions,—  the  French  Academy,  and  that  of  Inscriptions  and 
Belles-Lettres.8 

5.  In  several  branches  of  physics,  the  experimental  philoso- 
stateof       pher  is  both  guided  and  corrected  by  the  eternal 
chemistry.   iaws  of  geometry.     In  others  he  wants  this  aid,  and, 
in  the  words  of  his  master,  "  knows  and  understands  no  more 
concerning  the  order  of  nature,  than,  as  her  servant  and  in- 
terpreter, he  has  been  taught  by  observation  and  tentative 
processes."     All  that  concerns  the  peculiar  actions  of  bodies 
on  each  other  was  of  this  description ;    though,  in  our  own 
times,  even  this  has  been  in  some  degree  brought  under  the 

1  Birch's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  88.         »  Fontenelle,  vol.  v.  p.  23 ;   Montucla, 
*  Id.,  vol.  ii.  p.  18  ;  Thomson's  Hist,  of     Hist,  des  Mathematiques,  vol.  ii.  p.  667. 
Koyal  Society,  p.  7. 


CHAP.  Tin.  CHEMISTRY— BECKER  321 

omnipotent  control  of  the  modern  analysis.  Chemistry,  or 
the  science  of  the  molecular  constituents  of  bodies,  manifested 
in  such  peculiar  and  reciprocal  operations,  had  never  been 
rescued  from  empirical  hands  till  this  period.  The  transmu- 
tation of  metals,  the  universal  medicine,  and  other  inquiries 
utterly  unphilosophical  in  themselves,  because  they  assumed 
the  existence  of  that  which  they  sought  to  discover,  had  occu- 
pied the  chemists  so  much,  that  none  of  them  had  made  any 
further  progress,  than  occasionally,  by  some  happy  combination 
or  analysis,  to  contribute  an  useful  preparation  to  pharmacy, 
or  to  detect  an  unknown  substance.  Glauber  and  Van  Hel- 
mont  were  the  most  active  and  ingenious  of  these  elder 
chemists ;  but  the  former  has  only  been  remembered  by  hav- 
ing long  given  his  name  to  sulphate  of  soda,  while  the  latter 
wasted  his  time  on  experiments  from  which  he  knew  not  how 
to  draw  right  inferences,  and  his  powers  on  hypotheses  which  a 
sounder  spirit  of  the  inductive  philosophy  would  have  taught 
him  to  reject.1 

6.  Chemistry,  as  a  science  of  principles,  hypothetical  no 
doubt,  and  in  a  great  measure  unfounded,  but  coher- 
ing in  a  plausible  system,  and  better  than  the  reve- 
ries of  the  Paracelsists  and  Behmenists,  was  founded  by 
Becker  in  Germany,  by  Boyle  and  his  contemporaries  of  the 
Royal  Society  in  England.  Becker,  a  native  of  Spire,  who, 
after  wandering  from  one  city  of  Germany  to  another,  died 
in  London  in  1685,  by  his  Physica  Subterranea,  published  in 
1669,  laid  the  foundation  of  a  theory,  which,  having  in  the 
next  century  been  perfected  by  Stahl,  became  the  creed  of 
philosophy  till  nearly  the  end  of  the  last  century.  "  Becker's 
theory,"  says  an  English  writer,  "  stripped  of  every  thing  but 
the  naked  statement,  may  be  expressed  in  the  following  sen- 
tence :  Besides  water  and  air,  there  are  tliree  other  substances, 
called  earths,  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  bodies ; 
namely,  the  fusible  or  verifiable  earth,  the  inflammable  or 
sulphureous,  and  the  mercurial.  By  the  intimate  combination 
of  earths  with  water  is  formed  an  universal  acid,  from  which 
proceed  all  other  acid  bodies :  stones  are  produced  by  the 
combination  of  certain  earths ;  metals,  by  the  combination  of 
all  the  three  earths  in  proportions  which  vary  according  to  the 
metal." 2 

1  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Chemistry,  i.  183. 
*  Thomson's  Ilist.  of  Koyal  Society,  p.  468. 

YOU   IV.  21 


322  BOYLE.  PART  IV 

7.  No  one  Englishman  of  the  seventeenth  century,  aftei 

Lord  Bacon,  raised  to  himself  so  high  a  reputation 
in  experimental  philosophy  as  Rohert  Boyle.  It  has 
even  heen  remarked,  that  he  was  born  in  the  year  of  Bacon's 
death,  as  the  person  destined  by  nature  to  succeed  him ;  an 
eulogy  which  would  be  extravagant  if  it  implied  any  parallel 
between  the  genius  of  the  two,  but  hardly  so  if  we  look  on 
Boyle  as  the  most  faithful,  the  most  patient,  the  most  success- 
ful disciple  who  carried  forward  the  experimental  philosophy 
of  Bacon.  His  works  occupy  six  large  volumes  in  quarto. 
They  may  be  divided  into  theological  or  metaphysical,  and 
physical  or  experimental.  Of  the  former,  we  may  mention  as 
the  most  philosophical  his  Disquisition  into  the  Final  Causes 
of  Natural  Things,  his  Free  Inquiry  into  the  received  No- 
tion of  Nature,  his  Discourse  of  Things  above  Reason,  hig 
Considerations  about  the  Reconcilableness  of  Reason  and 
Religion,  his  Excellency  of  Theology,  and  his  Considerations 
on  the  Style  of  the  Scriptures ;  but  the  latter,  his  chemical 
and  experimental  writings,  form  more  than  two-thirds  of  his 
prolix  works. 

8.  The  metaphysical  treatises,  to  use  that  word  in  a  large 
His  meta-    sense,  of  Boyle,  or  rather  those  concerning  Natural 
physical      Theology,  are  very  perspicuous,  very  free  from  sys- 
tem, and  such  as  bespeak  an  independent  lover  of 

truth.  His  Disquisition  on  Final  Causes  was  a  well-timed 
vindication  of  that  palmary  argument  against  the  paradox  of 
the  Cartesians,  who  had  denied  the  validity  of  an  inference 
from  the  manifest  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  in  the  universe 
to  an  intelligent  Providence.  Boyle  takes  a  more  philosophi- 
cal view  of  the  principle  of  final  causes  than  had  been  found 
in  many  theologians,  who  weakened  the  argument  itself  by  the 
presumptuous  hypothesis,  that  man  was  the  sole  object  of 
Providence  in  the  creation.1  His  greater  knowledge  of  phy- 
siology led  him  to  perceive,  that  there  are  both  animal  and 
what  he  calls  cosmical  ends,  in  which  man  has  no  concern. 

9  The  following  passage  is  so  favorable  a  specimen  of  the 
Extract  philosophical  spirit  of  Boyle,  and  so  good  an  illustra- 
from  one  tion  of  the  theory  of  idols  in  the  Novum  Organum, 
that,  although  it  might  better  perhaps  have  deserved 
a  place  in  a  former  chapter,  I  will  not  refrain  from  inserting 
it :  "I  know  not,"  he  says  in  his  Free  Inquiry  into  the  re- 

«  Boyle's  Works,  yol.  v.  p.  394. 


CHAP.  VIII.  CHARACTER  OF  BOYLE.  323 

ceived  Notion  of  Nature,  "  whether  it  be  a  prerogative  in  the 
human  mind,  that  as  it  is  itself  a  true  and  positive  being,  so  is 
it  apt  to  conceive  all  other  things  as  true  and  positive  beings 
also :  but,  whether  or  no  this  propensity  to  frame  such  kind  of 
ideas  supposes  an  excellency,  I  fear  it  occasions  mistakes,  and 
makes  us  think  and  speak,  after  the  manner  of  true  and  posi- 
tive beings,  of  such  things  as  are  but  chimerical,  and  some  of 
them  negations  or  privations  themselves ;  as  death,  ignorance, 
blindness,  and  the  like.  It  concerns  us,  therefore,  to  stand 
very  carefully  upon  our  guard,  that  we  be  not  insensibly  mis- 
led by  such  an  innate  and  unheeded  temptation  to  error  as 
we  bring  into  the  world  with  us." 1 

10.  Boyle  improved  the  air-pump  and  the  thermometer, 
though  the  latter  was  first  made  an  accurate  instru-  „ 

'     „    .  _T  __  ..  His  merits 

ment  01  investigation  by  Newton.  He  also  disco-  in  physics 
vered  the  law  of  the  air's  elasticity ;  namely,  that  its  j^try.e~ 
bulk  is  inversely  as  the  pressure  upon  it.  For  some 
of  the  principles  of  hydrostatics  we  are  indebted  to  him, 
though  he  did  not  possess  much  mathematical  knowledge. 
The  Philosophical  Transactions  contain  several  valuable 
papers  by  him  on  this  science.2  By  his  Sceptical  Chemist, 
published  in  1661,  he  did  much  to  overturn  the  theories  of 
Van  Helmont's  school,  —  that  commonly  called  of  the  iatro- 
chemists,  which  was  in  its  highest  reputation ;  raising  doubts 
as  to  the  existence  not  only  of  the  four  elements  of  the  peri- 
patetics, but  of  those  which  these  chemists  had  substituted. 
Boyle  holds  the  elements  of  bodies  to  be  atoms  of  different 
shapes  and  sizes,  the  union  of  which  gives  origin  to  what  are 
vulgarly  called  elements.3  It  is  unnecessary  to  remark,  that 
this  is  the  prevailing  theory  of  the  present  age. 

11.  I  shall  borrow  the  general  character  of  Boyle  and  of 
his   contemporaries   in    English   chemistry  from    a   eencrai 
modern  author  of  credit.     "  Perhaps  Mr.  Boyle  may  character 
be  considered  as  the  first  person,  neither  connected 

with  pharmacy  nor  mining,  who  devoted  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  attention  to  chemical  pursuits.  Mr.  Boyle,  though,  in 
common  with  the  literary  men  of  his  age,  he  may  be  accused 
of  credulity,  was  both  very  laborious  and  intelligent ;  and  his 
chemical  pursuits,  which  were  various  and  extensive,  and 

1  Boyle's  Works,  vol.  T.  p.  161. 

2  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Koyal  Society,  pp.  400,  411. 
»  Thomson's  llist.  of  Chemistry,  i.  205. 


324  HOOKE  AND  OTHERS.  PART  IV. 

intended  solely  to  develop  the  truth  without  any  regard  to 
previously  conceived  opinions,  contributed  essentially  to  set 
chemistry  free  from  the  trammels  of  absurdity  and  supersti- 
tion in  which  it  had  been  hitherto  enveloped,  and  to  recom- 
mend it  to  philosophers  as  a  science  deserving  to  be  studied 
on  account  of  the  important  information  which  it  was  qualified 
to  convey.  His  refutation  of  the  alchemistical  opinions  re- 
specting the  constituents  of  bodies,  his  observations  on  cold, 
on  the  air,  on  phosphorus,  and  on  ether,  deserve  particularly 
to  be  mentioned  as  doing  him  much  honor.  We  have  no 
regular  account  of  any  one  substance  or  of  any  class  of  bodies 
in  Mr.  Boyle,  similar  to  those  which  at  present  are  considered 
as  belonging  exclusively  to  the  science  of  chemistry.  Neither 
did  he  attempt  to  systematize  the  phenomena,  nor  to  subject 
them  to  any  hypothetical  explanation. 

12.  "  But  his  contemporary  Dr.  Hooke,  who  had  a  particu- 
Of  Hooke  lar  predilection  for  hypothesis,  sketched  in  his  Micro- 
and  others.  graphia  a  very  beautiful  theoretical  explanation  of 
combustion,  and  promised  to  develop  his  doctrine  more  fully 
in  a  subsequent  book,  —  a  promise  which  he  never  fulfilled ; 
though  in  his  Lampas,  published  about  twenty  years  after- 
wards, he  has  given  a  very  beautiful  explanation  of  the  way 
in  which  a  candle  burns.  Mayow,  in  his  Essays,  published 
at  Oxford  about  ten  years  after  the  Microgi'aphia,  embraced 
the  hypothesis  of  Dr.  Hooke  without  acknowledgment,  but 
clogged  it  with  so  many  absurd  additions  of  his  own  as  greatly 
to  obscure  its  lustre  and  diminish  its  beauty.  Mayow's  first 
and  principal  Essay  contains  some  happy  experiments  on  res- 
piration and  air,  and  some  fortunate  conjectures  respecting 
the  combustion  of  the  metals;  but  the  most  valuable  part 
of  the  whole  is  the  chapter  on  affinities,  in  which  he  appears 
to  have  gone  much  farther  than  any  other  chemist  of  his  day, 
and  to  have  anticipated  some  of  the  best  established  doctrines 
of  his  successors.  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  to  whom  all  the  sciences 
lie  under  such  great  obligations,  made  two  most  important 
contributions  to  chemistry,  which  constitute,  as  it  were,  the 
foundation-stones  of  its  two  great  divisions.  The  first  was 
pointing  out  a  method  of  graduating  thermometers,  so  as  to 
be  comparable  with  each  other  in  whatever  part  of  the  world 
observations  with  them  are  made.  The  second  was  by  point- 
ing out  the  nature  of  chemical  affinity,  and  showing  that  it 
consisted  in  an  attraction  by  which  the  constituents  of  bodies 


CHAP.  VIII.       CHEMISTRY— NATURAL  HISTORY.  325 

were  drawn  towards  each  other,  and  united ;  thus  destroying 
the  previous  hypothesis  of  the  hooks  and  points  and  rings  and 
wedges,  by  means  of  which  the  different  constituents  of  bodies 
were  conceived  to  be  kept  together."1 

13.  Lemery,  a  druggist  at  Paris,  by  his  Cours  de  Chymie 
in  1675,  is  said  to  have  changed  the  face  of  the  sci-  T 

~  ,  Lemery. 

ence :  the  change,  nevertheless,  seems  to  have  gone 
no  deeper.  "  Lemery,"  says  Fontenelle,  "  was  the  first  who 
dispersed  the  real  or  pretended  obscurities  of  chemistry; 
who  brought  it  to  clearer  and  more  simple  notions ;  who  abo- 
lished the  gross  barbarisms  of  its  language ;  who  promised 
nothing  but  what  he  knew  the  art  could  perform ;  and  to  this 
he  owed  the  success  of  his  book.  It  shows  not  only  a  sound 
understanding,  but  some  greatness  of  soul,  to  strip  one's  own 
science  of  a  false  pomp." 2  But  we  do  not  find  that  Lemery 
had  any  novel  views  in  chemistry,  or  that  he  claims,  with  any 
irresistible  pretension,  the  title  of  a  philosopher.  In  fact,  his 
chemistry  seems  to  have  been  little  more  than  pharmacy 


SECT.  II.  —  ON  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

Zoology — 5ay — Botanical  Classifications  —  Grew — Geological  Theories. 

14.  THE  accumulation  of  particular  knowledge  in  natural 
history  must   always  be  progressive  where  any  re-  giowpro_ 
eard  is  paid  to  the  subject :  every  traveller  in  remote  gress  of 

^  •  •  .    -i-    ,  t-  zoology. 

countries,  every  manner,  may  contribute  some  obser- 
vation, correct  some  error,  or  bring  home  some  new  species. 
Thus  zoology  had  made  a  regular  advance  from  the  days  of 
Conrad  Gesner ;  yet  with  so  tardy  a  step,  that,  reflecting  on 
the  extensive  intercourse  of  Europe  with  the  Eastern  and 
Western  World,  we  may  be  surprised  to  find  how  little  Jon- 
ston,  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  had  added, 
even  in  the  most  obvious  class,  that  of  quadrupeds,  to  the 
knowledge  collected  one  hundred  years  before.  But  hitherto 
zoology,  confined  to  mere  description,  and  that  often  careless 
or  indefinite,  unenlightened  by  anatomy,  unregulated  by  me« 

»  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  466. 

*  Eloge  de  Lemery,  in  (Euyres  de  i'ontenelle,  v.  361 ;  Biogr.  Unirerselle. 


326  RAT  — SYNOPSIS.  PART  IV. 

thod,  had  not  merited  the  name  of  a  science.     That  name  it 
owes  to  John  Ray. 

15.  Ray  first  appeared  in  natural  history  as  the  editor  of 
_.     _      the  Ornithology  of  his  highly  accomplished  friend 

Francis  Willoughby,  with  whom  he  had  travelled 
OArer  the  Continent.  This  was  published  in  1676;  and  the 
History  of  Fishes  followed  in  1686.  The  descriptions  are 
ascribed  to  Willoughby,  the  arrangement  to  Ray,  who  might 
have  considered  the  two  works  as  in  great  part  his  own, 
though  he  has  not  interfered  with  the  glory  of  his  deceased 
friend.  Cuvier  observes,  that  the  History  of  Fishes  is  the 
more  perfect  work  of  the  two  ;  that  many  species  are  described 
which  will  not  be  found  in  earlier  ichthyologists  ;  and  that  those 
of  the  Mediterranean,  especially,  are  given  with  great  pre- 
cision.1 

16.  Among  the  original  works  of  Ray,  we  may  select  the 
His  s    op-   Synopsis  Methodica  Animalium    Quadmpedum    et 
sis  of  Qua-   Serpentini  Generis,  published  in  1693.     This  book 

makes  an  epoch  in  zoology,  not  for  the  additions  of 
new  species  it  contains,  since  there  are  few  wholly  such,  but 
as  the  first  classification  of  animals  that  can  be  reckoned  both 
general  and  grounded  in  nature.  He  divides  them  into  those 
with  blood  and  without  blood.  The  former  are  such  as 
breathe  through  lungs,  and  such  as  breathe  through  gills.  Of 
the  former  of  these,"  some  have  a  heart  with  two  ventricles ; 
some  have  one  only.  And,  among  the  former  class  of  these, 
some  are  viviparous,  some  oviparous.  We  thus  come  to  the 
proper  distinction  of  mammalia.  But,  in  compliance  with 
vulgar  prejudice,  Ray  did  not  include  the  cetacea  in  the  same 
class  with  quadrupeds,  though  well  aware  that  they  properly 
belonged  to  it ;  and  left  them  as  an  order  of  fishes.2  Quadru- 
peds he  was  the  first  to  divide  into  ungulate  and  unguiculate, 
hoofed  and  clawed ;  having  himself  invented  the  Latin  words.3 
The  former  are  solidipeda,  bisulca,  or  quadrisulca ;  the  latter 
are  bijida  or  multifida,  and  these  latter  with  undivided  or 
with  partially  divided  toes  ;  which  latter  again  may  have  broad 
claws,  as  monkeys,  or  narrow  claws ;  and  these  with  nar- 
row claws  he  arranges  according  to  their  teeth,  as  either 

1  Biographie  Unlverselle,  art.  "Ray."  paris    in    omnibus   fere   prasterquam   in 

*  "  No?  ne  a  conununi  hominum  opinione  pilis  et  pedibus  et  elemento  in  quo  deguut 

niinis  recedamus,  et  ut  affectatae  novitatis  convenire  videantur,  piscibus  aunumera- 

notam  evitemus,  cetaceuin  aquatilium  ge-  bimus."  —  p.  55. 

nus,   quamvia  cum  quadrupcdibus  rivi-  3  P.  60. 


CHAP.  VIII  RAY  —  REDl.  327 

carnivora  or  leporina,  now  generally  called  rodentia.  Besides 
all  these  quadrupeds,  which  he  calls  analoga,  he  has  a  general 
division,  called  anomala,  for  those  without  teeth,  or  with  such 
peculiar  arrangements  of  teeth  as  we  find  in  the  insectivorous 
genera,  the  hedgehog  and  mole.1 

17.  Ray  was  the  first  zoologist  who  made  use  of  compara- 
tive anatomy :    he  inserts,  at  length,  every  account  Merits  of 
of  dissections  that  he  could  find ;    several  had  been   thls  work- 
made  at  Paris.     He  does  not  appear  to  be  very  anxious  about 
describing  every  species :  thus,  in  the  simian  family,  he  omits 
several  well  known.2     I  cannot  exactly  determine  what  quad- 
rupeds he  has  inserted  that  do  not  appear  in  the  earlier  zoolo- 
gists ;    according  to  Linnaeus,  in  the  twelfth  edition  of  the 
Systema  Naturae,  if  I  have  counted  rightly,  they  amount  to 
thirty -two :  but  I  have  found  him  very  careless  in  specifying 
the  synonymes  of  his  predecessors;  and  many,  for  which  he 
only  quotes  Ray,  are  in  Gesner  or  Jonston.     Ray  has,  how- 
ever, much  the  advantage  over  these  in  the  brevity  and  close- 
ness of  his  specific  characters.     "  The  particular  distinction 
of  his  labors,"  says  Cuvier,  "  consists  in  an  arrangement  more 
clear,  more  determinate,  than  those  of  any  of  his  predecessors, 
and  applied  with  more  consistency  and  precision.     His  distri- 
bution of  the  classes  of  quadrupeds  and  birds  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  the  English  naturalists  almost  to^mr  own  days  ;  and 
we  find  manifest  traces  of  that  he  has  adopted  as  to  the  latter 
class  in  Linnaeus,  in  Brisson,  in  Buffon,  and  in  all  other  orni- 
thologists." 3 

18.  The  bloodless  animals,  and  even  those  of  cold  blood, 
with  the  exception  of  fishes,  had  occupied  but  little 
attention  of  any  good  zoologists  till  after  the  middle 

of  the  century.  They  were  now  studied  with  considerable 
success.  Redi,  established  as  a  physician  at  Florence,  had 
yet  time  for  that  various  literature  which  has  immortalized 
his  name.  He  opposed,  and  in  a  great  degree  disproved  by 
experiment,  the  prevailing  doctrine  of  the  equivocal  genera- 
tion of  insects,  or  that  from  corruption ;  though,  where  he  was 
unable  to  show  the  means  of  reproduction,  he  had  recourse  to 

1  P.  56.  he  calls  Parisiensis ;  such,  I  presume,  as  h« 

2  "  Hoc  genus  animalium  turn  caudato-  had  found  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Acade- 
rum  turn  cauda  carentium  species  valde  mie  des  Sciences.     But  he  does  not  men- 
numerosse  sunt ;  non  tamen  multae  apud  tion  the  Simia  Inuus,  or  the  S.   Hama- 
autores  fide  dignos  descriptae  occurrunt."  dryas,  and  several  others  of   the    most 
He  only  describes  those  species  he  haa  known  species. 

found  in  Clusius  or  Marcgrave,  and  what       *  Biogr.  U  uiv. 


328  LISTER— COMPARATIVE  ANATOMY.          PART  IV 

a  paradoxical  hypothesis  of  his  own.  Redi  also  enlarged  our 
knowledge  of  intestinal  animals,  and  made  some  good  experi- 
ments on  the  poison  of  vipers.1  Malpighi,  who  combated,  like 
Redi,  the  theory  of  the  reproduction  of  organized  bodies  from 
mere  corruption,  has  given  one  of  the  most  complete  treatises 
on  the  silkworm  that  we  possess.2  Swammerdam,  a  Dutch 
Swammer-  naturalist,  abandoned  his  pursuits  in  human  anatomy 
dam.  to  foiiow  Up  that  of  insects ;  and,  by  his  skill  and 
patience  in  dissection,  made  numerous  discoveries  in  their 
structure.  His  General  History  of  Insects,  1669,  contains  a 
distribution  into  four  classes,  founded  on  their  bodily  forms, 
and  the  metamorphoses  they  undergo.  A  posthumous  work, 
Biblia  Naturae,  not  published  till  1738,  contains,  says  the  Bio- 
graphic Universelle,  "  a  multitude  of  facts  wholly  unknown 
before  Swammerdam :  it  is  impossible  to  carry  farther  the 
anatomy  of  these  little  animals,  or  to  be  more  exact  in  the  de- 
scription of  their  organs." 

19.  Lister,  an  English  physician,  may  be  reckoned  one  of 

those  who  have  done  most  to  found  the  science  of  con- 
chology  by  his  Historia  sive  Synopsis  Conchyliorum 
in  1685,  —  a  work  very  copious,  and  full  of  accurate  delinea- 
tions ;  and  also  by-his  three  treatises  on  English  animals,  two 
of  which  relate  to  fluviatile  and  marine  shells.  The  third, 
which  is  on  spiders^  is  not  less  esteemed  in  entomology.  Lister 
was  also  perhaps  the  first  to  distinguish  the  specific  charac- 
ters—  such  at  least  as  are  now  reckoned  specific,  though  pro- 
bably not  in  his  time  —  of  the  Asiatic  and  African  elephant. 
"  His  works  in  natural  history  and  comparative  anatomy  are 
justly  esteemed,  because  he  has  shown  himself  an  exact  and 
sagacious  observer,  and  has  pointed  out  with  correctness  the 
natural  relations  of  the  animals  that  he  describes."  3 

20.  The  beautiful  science  which  bears  the  impioper  name 
Compare     °f  comparative  anatomy  had  but  casually  occupied 
iive  anato-   the  attention  of  the  medical  profession.4     It  was  to 

them,  rather  than  to  mere  zoologists,  that  it  owed, 
and  indeed  strictly  must  always  owe,  its  discoveries,  whicb 

1  Biogr.  Unjv. ;  Tlraboschl,  jd.  252.  In  the  first  sense  it  la  never  now  used  ; 

Biogr.  Uuiv. ;  Tiraboschi,  xi.  252.  and  the  second  is  but  a  part,  though  an 

s  Biogr.  Univ. ;  Chalmers.  important  one,  of  the  science.     Zootomy 

4  It  is  most  probable  that  this  term  has  been  suggested  as  a  bettor  name,  but 

was  originally  designed  to  express  a  com-  it  is  not  quite  analogical  to  anatomy  ;  and, 

pardon  between  the  human  structure  and  on  the  whole,  it  seems  as  if  we  must  re- 

that  of  brutes,  though  it  might  also  mean  main  with  the  old  word,  protesting  against 

one  between  different  species  of  the  latter,  its  propriety. 


CHAP.  TIIL          BOTANY  —  JOTGIUS— MORISON.  329 

had  hitherto  been  very  few.  It  was  now  more  cultivated ;  and 
the  relations  of  structure  to  the  capacities  of  animal  life  be- 
came more  striking  as  their  varieties  were  more  fully  under- 
stood ;  the  grand  theories  of  final  causes  found  their  most 
convincing  arguments.  In  this  period,  I  believe,  comparative 
anatomy  made  an  important  progress,  which  in  the  earlier 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  by  no  means  equally  rapid. 
France  took  the  lead  in  these  researches.  "  The  number  of 
papers  on  comparative  anatomy,"  says  Dr.  Thomson,  "  is 
greater  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  French  Academy  than  in  our 
national  publication.  This  was  owing  to  the  pains  taken 
during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  to  furnish  the  academy  with 
proper  animals,  and  the  number  of  anatomists  who  received  a 
salary,  and  of  course  devoted  themselves  to  anatomical  sub 
jects."  There  are,  however,  about  twenty  papers  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions  before  1700  on  this  subject.1 

21.  Botany,  notwithstanding  the  gleams  of  philosophical 
light  which   occasionally  illustrate  the  writings   of  Botan 
Caesalpin  and  Columna,  had  seldom  gone  farther  than 

to  name,  to  describe,  and  to  delineate  plants  with  a  greater  oi 
less  accuracy  and  copiousness.  Yet  it  long  had  the  advantage 
over  zoology ;  and  now,  when  the  latter  made  a  considerable 
step  in  advance,  it  still  continued  to  keep  ahead.  This  is 
a  period  of  great  importance  in  botanical  science. 
Jungius  of  Hamburg,  whose  posthumous  Isagoge 
Phytoscopica  was  published  in  1679,  is  said  to  have  been  the 
first  in  the  seventeenth  century  who  led  the  way  to  a  better 
classification  than  that  of  Lobel ;  and  Sprengel  thinks  that 
the  English  botanists  were  not  unacquainted  with  his  writings : 
Ray,  indeed,  owns  his  obligations  to  them.2 

22.  But  the  founder  of  classification,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  was  Robert  Morison  of  Aberdeen,  professor        . 

of  botany  at  Oxford ;  who,  by  his  Hortus  Blesensis 
in  1669,  by  his  Plantarum  Umbelliferarum  Distributio  Nova 
in  1672,  and  chiefly  by  his  great  work,  Historia  Plantarum 
Universalis,  in  1678,  laid  the  basis  of  a  systematic  classifica- 
tion, which  he  partly  founded,  not  on  trivial  distinctions  of 
appearance,  as  the  older  botanists,  but,  as  Caesalpin  had  first 
done,  on  the  fructifying  organs.  He  has  been  frequently 
charged  with  plagiarism  from  that  great  Italian,  who  seems  to 

1  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  114. 
1  Sprengel,  Hist.  Bei  Herborise,  vol.  ii.  p.  32. 


830      RAY  — METHODUS  PLANTARUM  NOVA.   PART  IV. 

have  suffered,  as  others  have  done,  by  failing  to  carry  forward 
his  own  luminous  conceptions  into  such  details  of  proof  as  the 
world  justly  demands ;  another  instance  of  which  has  been 
seen  in  his  very  striking  passages  on  the  circulation  of  the 
blood.  Sprengel,  however,  who  praises  Morison  highly,  does 
not  impute  to  him  this  injustice  towards  Caesalpin,  whose 
writings  might  possibly  be  unknown  in  Britain.1  And  it 
might  be  observed  also,  that  Morison  did  not,  as  has  some- 
times been  alleged,  establish  the  fruit  as  the  sole  basis  of  his 
arrangement.  Out  of  fifteen  classes,  into  which  he  distributes 
all  herbaceous  plants,  but  seven  are  characterized  by  this  dis- 
tinction.2 "  The  examination  of  Morison's  works,"  says  a  late 
biographer,  "  will  enable  us  to  judge  of  the  service  he  ren- 
dered in  the  reformation  of  botany.  The  great  botanists, 
from  Gesner  to  the  Bauhins,  had  published  works  more  or  less 
useful  by  their  discoveries,  their  observations,  their  descrip- 
tions, or  their  figures.  Gesner  had  made  a  great  step  in 
considering  the  fruit  as  the  principal  distinction  of  genera, 
Fabius  Columna  adopted  this  view ;  Csesalpin  applied  it  to  a 
classification  which  should  be  regarded  as  better  than  any  that 
preceded  the  epoch  of  which  we  speak.  Morison  had  made  a 
particular  study  of  fruits,  having  collected  fifteen  hundred 
different  species  of  them,  though  he  did  not  neglect  the  im- 
portance of  the  natural  affinities  of  other  parts.  He  dwells 
on  this  leading  idea,  insists  on  the  necessity  of  establishing 
generic  characters,  and  has  founded  his  chief  works  on  this 
basis.  He  has  therefore  done  real  service  to  the  science ;  nor 
should  the  vanity  which  has  made  him  conceal  his  obligations 
to  Caisalpin  induce  us  to  refuse  him  justice."3  Morison 
speaks  of  his  own  theory  with  excessive  vanity,  and  depre- 
ciates all  earlier  botanists  as  full  of  confusion.  Several 
English  writers  have  been  unfavorable  to  Morison,  out  of 
partiality  to  Ray,  with  whom  he  was  on  bad  terms  ;  but  Tour- 
nefort  declares,  that,  if  he  had  not  enlightened  botany,  it 
would  still  have  been  in  darkness. 

23.  Ray,  in  his  Methodus  Plantarum  Nova,  1682,  and  in 

jk  his  Historia  Plantarum  Universalis,  in  three  volumes, 

the  first  published  in  1686,  the  second  in  1688,  and 

the  third,  which  is  supplemental,  in  1704,  trod  in  the  steps  of 

1  Sprengel,  p.  34. 

*  Pulteney,  Historical  Progress  of  Botany  In  England,  vol.  1.  p.  307. 

*  liiogi  Cniverselle. 


CHAP.  VHI.  RAY  — RIVINUS.  331 

Morison,  but  with  more  acknowledgment  of  what  was  due  to 
others,  and  with  some  improvements  of  his  own.  He  de- 
scribed 6,900  plants,  many  of  which  are  now  considered  as 
varieties.1  In  the  botanical  works  of  Ray  we  find  the  natural 
families  of  plants  better  defined,  the  difference  of  complete 
and  incomplete  flowers  mo're  precise,  and  the  grand  division 
of  monocotyledons  and  dicotyledons  fully  established.  He 
gave  much  precision  to  the  characteristics  of  many  classes, 
and  introduced  several  technical  terms  very  useful  for  the 
perspicuity  of  botanical  language  ;  finally,  he  established  many 
general  principles  of  arrangement  which  have  since  been 
adopted.2  Ray's  method  of  classification  was  principally  by 
the  fruit,  though  he  admits  its  imperfections.  "In  fact,  his 
method,"  says  Fulteney,  "  though  he  assumes  the  fruit  as  the 
foundation,  is  an  elaborate  attempt,  for  that  time,  to  fix  natu 
ral  classes."3 

24.  Rivinus,  in  his  Introductio  in  Rem  Herbariam,  Leipsic 
1690,  a  very  short  performance,  struck  into  a  new 
path,  which  has  modified,  to  a  great  degree,  the  sys- 
tems of  later  botanists.  Csesalpin  and  Morison  had  looked 
mainly  to  the  fruit  as  the  basis  of  classification :  Rivinus 
added  the  flower,  and  laid  down  as  a  fundamental  rule,  that  all 
plants  which  resemble  each  other  both  in  the  flower  and  in 
the  fruit  ought  to  bear  the  same  generic  name.4  In  some 
pages  of  this  Introduction,  we  certainly  find  the  basis  of  the 
Critica  Botanica  of  Linnaeus.5  Rivinus  thinks  the  arrange- 
ment of  Caesalpin  the  best,  and  that  Morison  has  only  spoiled 
what  he  took :  of  Ray  he  speaks  in  terms  of  eulogy,  but 
blames  some  part  of  his  method.  His  own  is  primarily 
founded  on  the  flower ;  and  thus  he  forms  eighteen  classes, 
which,  by  considering  the  differences  of  the  fruits,  he  subdi- 
vides into  ninety-one  genera.  The  specific  distinctions  he 
founded  on  the  general  habit  and  appearance  of  the  plant. 
His  method  is  more  thoroughly  artificial,  as  opposed  to  natu- 
ral ;  that  is,  more  established  on  a  single  principle,  which 
often  brings  heterogeneous  plants  and  families  together,  than 
that  of  any  of  his  predecessors :  for  even  Ray  had  kept  the 
distinction  of  trees  from  shrubs  and  herbs,  conceiving  it  to  be 
founded  in  their  natural  fructification.  Rivinus  set  aside 

1  Pulteney.    The  account  of  Ray's  life        *  Biogr.  Universelle. 
and  botanical  writings  in  this  work  occu-       *  P.  259. 
pies  nearly  a  hundred  pages.  «  Biogr.  Universelle.  •  Id 


832  TOURNEFORT.  PAPT  IV. 

wholly  this  leading  division.     Yet  he  had  not  been  able  to 
reduce  all  plants  to  his  method,  and  admitted  several  anoma 
lous  divisions.1 

25.  The  merit  of  establishing  an  uniform  and  consistent 
system  was  reserved  for  Tournefort.  His  Elemens 
de  la  Botanique  appeared  in  1694;  the  Latin  trans- 
lation, Institutiones  Rei  Herbariae,  in  1700.  Tournefort,  like 
Rivinus,  took  the  flower  or  corolla  as  the  basis  of  his  system ; 
and  the  varieties  in  the  structure,  rather  than  number,  of  the 
petals,  furnish  him  with  his  classes.  The  genera — for,  like 
other  botanists  before  Linnaeus,  he  has  no  intermediate  divi- 
sion— are  established  by  the  flower  and  fruit  conjointly,  or 
now  and  then  by  less  essential  differences ;  for  he  held  it 
better  to  constitute  new  genera,  than,  as  others  had  done,  to 
have  anomalous  species.  The  accessory  parts  of  a  plant  are 
allowed  to  supply  specific  distinctions.  But  Tournefort  di- 
vides vegetables,  according  to  old  prejudice,  —  which  it  is  sur- 
prising, that,  after  the  precedent  of  Rivinus  to  the  contrary, 
he  should  have  regarded,  —  into  herbs  and  trees ;  and  thus  he 
has  twenty-two  classes.  Simple  flowers,  monopetalous  or 
polypetalous,  form  eleven  of  these ;  composite  flowers,  three ; 
the  apetalous,  one ;  the  cryptogamous,  or  those  without  flower 
or  fruit,  make  another  class  ;  shrubs  or  suffrutices  are  placed 
in  the  seventeenth ;  and  trees,  in  five  more,  are  similarly 
distributed,  according  to  their^-floral  characters.2  Sprengel 
extols  much  of  the  system  of  Tournefort,  though  he  disap- 
proves of  the  selection  of  a  part  so  often  wanting  as  the 
corolla  for  the  sole  basis  ;  nor  can  its  various  forms  be  com- 
prised in  Tournefort's  classes.  His  orders  are  well  marked, 
according  to  the  same  author;  but  he  multiplied  both  his 
genera  and  species  too  much,  and  paid  too  little  attention  to 
the  stamina.  His  method  was  less  repugnant  to  natural  affi- 
nities, and  more  convenient  in  practice,  than  any  which  had 
come  since  Lobel.  Most  of  Tournefort's  generic  distinctions 
were  pieserved  by  Linnaeus,  and  some  which  had  been  abro- 
gated without  sufficient  reason  have  since  been  restored.8 
Ray  opposed  the  system  of  Tournefort ;  but  some  have  thought 
that  ic  his  later  works  he  came  nearer  to  it,  so  as  to  be  called 
magis  corottista  quam  fructista.*  This,  however,  is  not  ac- 

1  Biogr.  Univ. ;  Sprengel,  p.  66. 

*  Biogr.  UnlT.  ;  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  34  ;  Sprengel,  p.  04 

»  Riogr.  Universelle.  *  10. 


CIT\P.  VOI.         GREW  —  ANATOMY  OF  PLANTS.  333 

knowledged  by  Pulteney,  who  has  paid  great   attention   to 
Ray's  writings. 

26.  The  classification  and  description  of  plants  constitute 
what  generally  is  called  botany.     But  these  began  vegetable 
now  to  be  studied  in  connection  with  the  anatomy  PQysiol°gy- 
and  physiology  of  the  vegetable  world ;  terms  not  merely  ana- 
logical, because  as  strictly  applicable  as  to  animals,  but  which 
had  never  been  employed  before  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.     This  interesting  science  is  almost  wholly  due  to 
two  men.  —  Grew  and  Malpighi.     Grew  first  directed 

his  thoughts  towards  the  anatomy  of  plants  in  1664, 
in  consequence  of  reading  several  books  of  animal  anatomy, 
which  suggested  to  him,  that  plants,  being  the  works  of  the 
same  Author,  would  probably  show  similar  contrivances. 
Some  had  introduced  observations  of  this  nature,  as  High- 
more,  Sharrock.  and  Hooke,  but  only  collaterally ;  so  that  the 
systematic  treatment  of  the  subject,  following  the  plant  from 
the  seed,  was  left  quite  open  for  himself.  In  1670,  he  present- 
ed the  first  book  of  his  work  to  the  Royal  Society,  who  next 
year  ordered  it  to  be  printed.  It  was  laid  before  the  society, 
in  print,  December,  1671 ;  and  on  the  same  day  a  manuscript 
by  Malpighi  on  the  same  subject  was  read.  They  went  on 
from  this  time  with  equal  steps  ;  Malpighi,  however,  having 
caused  Grew's  book  to  be  translated  for  his  own  use.  Grew 
speaks  very  honorably  of  Malpighi,  and  without  claiming 
more  than  the  statement  of  facts  permits  him.1 

27.  The  first  book  of  his  Anatomy  of  Plants,  which  is  the 
title  given  to  three  separate  works,  when  published   ^  ^^ 
collectively  in  1682,  contains  the  whole  of  his  physio-   tomy  of 
logical  theory,  which  is  developed  at  length  in  those 

that  follow.  The  nature  of  vegetation  and  its  processes  seem 
to  have  been  unknown  when  he  began ;  save  that  common 
observation,  and  the  more  accurate  experience  of  gardeners 
and  others,  must  have  collected  the  obvious  truths  of  vegetable 
anatomy.  He  does  not  quote  Caeaalpin,  and  may  have  been 
unacquainted  with  his  writings.  Xo  man  perhaps  who  creat- 
ed a  science  has  carried  it  farther  than  Grew :  he  is  so  close 
and  diligent  in  his  observations,  making  use  of  the  microscope, 
that  comparatively  few  discoveries  of  great  importance  have 
been  made  in  the  mere  anatomy  of  plants  since  his  time ; J 

1  Pulteney ;  Chalmers :  Biogr  Univ.     Sprengel  calls  Grew's  book  t-pus  absolu'.um 
it  immonaie.  *  Biospr.  Unirersefle. 


334  SEXUAL  SYSTEM  IN  PLANTS.  PARI  IV. 

though  some  of  his  opinions  are  latterly  disputed  by  Mirbel 
and  others  of  a  new  botanical  school. 

28.  The  great  discovery  ascribed  to  Grew  is  of  the  sexual 

system  in  plants.  He  speaks  thus  of  what  he  calls 
vers  the"  the  attire,  though  rather,  I  think,  in  obscure  terms  : 
sexual  «  The  primary  and  chief  use  of  the  attire  is  such  as 

hath  respect  to  the  plant  itself,  and  so  appears  to  be 
very  great  and  necessary.  Because  even  those  plants  which 
have  no  flower  or  foliature  are  yet  some  way  or  other  attired, 
either  with  the  seminiform  or  the  floral  attire ;  so  that  it 
seems  to  perform  its  service  to  the  seeds  as  the  foliature  to 
the  fruit.  In  discourse  hereof  with  our  learned  Savilian  pro- 
fessor Sir  Thomas  Millington,  he  told  me  he  conceived  that 
the  attire  doth  serve,  as  the  male,  for  the  generation  of  the 
seed.  I  immediately  replied,  that  I  was  of  the  same  opinion, 
and  gave  him  some  reasons  for  it,  and  answered  some  objec- 
tions which  might  oppose  them.  But  withal,  in  regard  every 
plant  is  appevottytof,  or  male  and  female,  that  I  was  also  of 
opinion  that  it  serveth  for  the  separation  of  some  parts  as  well 
as  the  affusion  of  others." 1  He  proceeds  to  explain  his  no- 
tion of  vegetable  impregnation.  It  is  singular  that  he  should 
suppose  all  plants  to  be  hermaphrodite ;  and  this  shows  he 
could  not  have  recollected  what  had  long  been  known  as  to 
the  palm,  or  the  passages  in  Caesalpin  relative  to  the  subject. 

29.  Ray  admitted  Grew's  opinion  cautiously  at  first :  "  Nos 
ut  verisimilem  tantum  admittimus."     But  in  his  Sylloge  Stir- 
pium,  1694,  he  fully  accedes  to  it.     The  real  establishment  of 
Camerarius  ^e  sexual  theory,  however,  is  due  to  Camerarius, 
tonfirms      professor  of  botany  at  Tubingen,  whose  letter  on  that 

subject,  published  1694,  in  the  work  of  another,  did 
much  to  spread  the  theory  over  Europe.  His  experiments, 
indeed,  were  necessary  to  confirm  what  Grew  had  rather 
hazarded  as  a  conjecture  than  brought  to  a  test;  and  he 
showed  that  flowers  deprived  of  their  stamina  do  not  produce 
seeds  capable  of  continuing  the  species.2  Woodward,  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions,  illustrated  the  nutrition  of  plants 
by  putting  sprigs  of  vegetables  in  phials  filled  with  water,  and, 
after  some  time,  determining  the  weight  they  had  gained 
and  the  quantity  they  had  imbibed.3  These  experiments  had 

1  Book  iv.  ct    1.    He  had  hinted  at        *  Sprengel;  Biogr.  Univ.  ;  Pulteney.  p. 
•nine  "  primarv  and  private  use  of  the    838. 
attire."  in  book  .  ch.  6.  »  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Koyal  Society,  p.  68. 


CHAP.  VIII.  MALPIGHI  — GEOLOGY.  335 

been  made  by  Tan  Helmont,  who  had  inferred  from  them  that 
water  is  convertible  into  solid  matter.1 

30.  It  is  just  to  observe,  that  some  had  preceded  Grew  in 
vegetable    physiology.     Aromatari,   in   a   letter   of    _^ 
only  four  pages,  published  at  Venice  in  1 625,  on.  the   «>rs  of 
generation  of  plants  from  seeds,  which  was  reprinted   Grew- 

in  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  showed  the  analogy  be- 
tween grains  and  eggs,  each  containing  a  minute  organized 
embryo,  which  employs  the  substances  enclosing  it  for  its  own 
development.  Aromatari  has  also  understood  the  use  of  the 
cotyledons.2  Brown,  in  his  Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Errors,  has 
remarks  on  the  budding  of  plants,  and  on  the  quinary  number 
which  they  affect  in  their  flower.  Kenelm  Digby,  according 
to  Sprengel,  first  explained  the  necessity  in  vegetation  for 
oxygen,  or  vital  air,  which  had  lately  been  discovered  by 
Bathurst.3  Hooke  carried  the  discoveries  hitherto  made  in 
vegetable  anatomy  much  further  in  his  Micrographia.  Shar- 
rock  and  Lister  contributed  some  knowledge ;  but  they  were 
rather  later  than  Grew.  Xone  of  these  deserve  such  a  place 
a*  Malpighi,  who,  says  Sprengel,  was  not  inferior  to  . 
Grew  in  acuteness,  though  probably,  through  some 
illusions  of  prejudice,  he  has  not  so  well  understood  and  ex- 
plained many  things.  But  the  structure  and  growth  of  seeds 
he  has  explained  better ;  and  Grew  seems  to  have  followed 
him.  His  book  is  also  better  arranged  and  more  concise.4 
The  Dutch  did  much  to  enlarge  botanical  science.  The  Hor- 
tus  Indicus  Malabaricus  of  Rheede,  who  had  been  a  governor 
in  India,  was  published  at  his  own  expense  in  twelve  volumes, 
the  first  appearing  in  1 686  :  it  contains  an  immense  number 
of  new  plants.5  The  Herbarium  Amboinense  of  Rumphius  was 
collected  in  the  seventeenth  century,  though  not  published  till 
1741.6  Several  botanical  gardens  were  formed  in  different 
countries;  among  others,  that  of  Chelsea  was  opened  in  1686.7 

31.  It  was  impossible  that  men  of  inquiring  tempers  should 
not  have  been  led  to  reflect   on   those   remarkable   f&r]v 
phenomena  of  the  earth's  visible  structure,  which,   notions  of 
being  in  course  of  time  accurately  registered   and  geology- 

1  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Chemistry.  diworered  in  1774  by  Priestley,  who  ex- 

*  Sprengel :  Biojrr.  Univ.  hibited  it  in  a  separate  state.  — 1842.1 

*  Sprengel,  iii.  176.    [It  will  be  under-        4  Sprengel,  p.  15. 

stood  that  the  name  "oxygen,"  thougt  6  Biogr.  Univ.  The  date  of  the  first  roh 
Sprengel  uses  it,  is  modern  :  and  also  tune  ia  given  erroneously  in  the  Biogr 
that  this  gas  is  properly  said  to  have  been  Univ.  •  Id.  '  Sprengel ;  Pultenej 


336  BURNET'S  THEORY  OF  THE  EARTH.         PART  IV. 

arranged,  have  become  the  basis  of  that  noble  science,  the 
boast  of  our  age, — geology.  The  first  thing  which  must  strike 
the  eyes  of  the  merest  clown,  and  set  the  philosopher  thinking, 
is  the  irregularity  of  the  surface  of  our  globe :  the  more  this 
is  observed,  the  more  signs  of  violent  disruption  appear. 
Some,  indeed,  of  whom  Ray  seems  to  have  been  one,1  were  so 
much  impressed  by  the  theory  of  final  causes,  that,  perceiving 
the  fitness  of  the  present  earth  for  its  inhabitants,  they  thought 
it  might  have  been  created  in  such  a  state  of  physical  ruin. 
But  the  contrary  inference  is  almost  irresistible.  A  still 
more  forcible  argument  for  great  revolutions  in  the  history  of 
the  earth  is  drawn  from  a  second  phenomenon  of  very  general 
occurrence, — the  marine  and  other  fossil  relics  of  organized 
beings,  which  are  dug  up  in  strata  far  remote  from  the  places 
where  these  bodies  could  now  exist.  It  was  common  to 
account  for  them  by  the  Mosaic  deluge.  But  the  depth  at 
which  they  are  found  was  incompatible  with  this  hypothesis. 
Others  fancied  them  to  be  not  really  organized,  but  sports  of 
nature,  as  they  were  called,  the  casual  resemblances  of  shells 
and  fishes  in  stone.  The  Italians  took  the  lead  in  speculating 
on  these  problems ;  but  they  could  only  arrive  now  and  then 
at  a  happier  conjecture  than  usual,  and  do  not  seem  to  have 
planned  any  scheme  of  explaining  the  general  structure  of  the 
earth.2  The  Mundus  Subterraneus  of  Athanasius  Kircher, 
famous  for  the  variety  and  originality  of  his  erudition,  con- 
tains, probably,  the  geology  of  his  age,  or  at  least  his  own.  It 
was  published  in  1662.  Ten  out  of  twelve  books  relate  to 
the  surface  or  the  interior  of  the  earth,  and  to  various  terrene 
productions ;  the  remaining  two  to  alchemy,  and  other  arts 
connected  with  mineralogy.  Kircher  seems  to  have  collected 
a  great  deal  of  geographical  and  geological  knowledge.  In 
England,  the  spirit  of  observation  was  so  strong  after  the 
establishment  of  the  Royal  Society,  that  the  Philosophical 
Transactions  in  this  period  contain  a  considerable  number  of 
geognostic  papers ;  and  the  genius  of  theory  was  aroused, 
though  not  at  first  in  his  happiest  mood.3 

32.   Thomas  Burnet,  master  of  the  Charterhouse,  a  man 
Burnet's      fearless  and  somewhat  rash,  with  more  imagination 
tlian  Philos°phy>  but  ingenious   and   eloquent,  pub- 
lished in  1694  his  Theoria  Telluris  Sacra,  which  he 

1  See  Ray's  Three  Physico-Theological        «  Lyell's  Principles  of  Geology,  vol.  i 
Dincounw»  on  the  Creation,  Deluge,  and    p.  25. 
Dual  Coullttgratiou.    1&J2.  a  Thomson's  llist.  of  Koyal  Society. 


CHAP.  vm.  PROTOG.EA  OF  LEIBNITZ.  337 

afterwards  translated  into  English.  The  primary  question  for 
the  early  geologists  had  always  been,  how  to  reconcile  the 
phenomena  with  which  they  were  acquainted  to  the  Mosaic 
narratives  of  the  creation  and  deluge.  Every  one  was  satisfied 
that  his  own  theory  was  the  hest ;  but  in  every  case  it  has 
hitherto  proved,  whatever  may  take  place  in  future,  that  the 
proposed  scheme  has  neither  kept  to  the  letter  of  Scripture, 
nor  to  the  legitimate  deductions  of  philosophy.  Burnet  givea 
the  reins  to  his  imagination  more  than  any  other  writer  on 
that,  which,  if  not  argued  upon  by  inductive  reasoning,  must 
be  the  dream  of  one  man,  little  better  in  reality,  though  it 
may  be  more  amusing,  than  the  dream  of  another.  He 
seems  to  be  eminently  ignorant  of  geological  facts,  and  has 
hardly  ever  recourse  to  them  as  evidence  ;  and  accordingly, 
though  his  book  drew  some  attention  as  an  ingenious  romance, 
it  does  not  appear  that  he  made  a  single  disciple.  Whistou 
opposed  Burnet's  theory,  but  with  one  not  less  unfounded,  nor 
with  less  ignorance  of  all  that  required  to  be  known.  Hooke, 
Lister,  Ray,  and  Woodward  came  to  the  subject  other  geo- 
with  more  philosophical  minds,  and  with  a  better  1<«ists- 
insight  into  the  real  phenomena.  Hooke  seems  to  have  dis- 
played his  usual  sagacity  in  conjecture :  he  saw  that  the  com- 
mon theory  of  explaining  marine  fossils  by  the  Mosaic  deluge 
would  not  suffice,  and  perceived  that,  at  some  time  or  other,  a 
part  of  the  earth's  crust  must  have  been  elevated  and  another 
part  depressed  by  some  subterraneous  power.  Lister  was 
aware  of  the  continuity  of  certain  strata  over  large  districts, 
and  proposed  the  construction  of  geological  maps.  Woodward 
had  a  still  more  extensive  knowledge  of  stratified  rocks :  he 
was  in  a  manner  the  founder  of  scientific  mineralogy  in  Eng- 
land ;  but  his  geological  theory  was  not  less  chimerical  than 
those  of  his  contemporaries.1  It  was  first  published  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions  for  1695.a  ( 

33.  The  Protogaea  of  Leibnitz  appears,  in  felicity  of  conjec- 
ture and  minute  attention  to  facts,  far  above  any  of  Protoga» 
these.  But  this  short  tract  was  only  published  in  ofLeibnitl- 
1749  ;  and,  on  reading  it,  I  have  found  an  intimation  that  it 
was  not  written  within  the  seventeenth  century.  Yet  I  can- 
not refrain  from  mentioning  that  his  hypothesis  supposes  the 
gradual  cooling  of  the  earth  from  igneous  fusion ;  the  forma- 
tion of  a  vast  body  of  water  to  cover  the  surface,  a  part  of  his 

»  Lyell,  p.  31.  »  Thomson,  p.  207. 

VOL.  IV.  22 


338  ANATOMY  AND  MEDICINE.  PiKT  IV 

theory  but  ill  established,  and  apparently  the  weakest  of  the 
whole  ;  the  subsidence  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  which 
he  takes  to  have  been  once  on  the  level  of  the  highest  moun- 
tains, by  the  breaking-in  of  vaulted  caverns  within  its  bosom  ;l 
the  deposition  of  sedimentary  strata  from  inundations,  their 
induration,  and  the  subsequent  covering  of  these  by  other 
strata  through  fresh  inundations  ;  with  many  other  notions 
which  have  been  gradually  matured  and  rectified  in  the  process 
of  the  science.2  No  one  can  read  the  Protogaea  without 
perceiving,  that  of  all  the  early  geologists,  or  indeed  of  all 
down  to  a  time  not  very  remote,  Leibnitz  came  nearest  to  the 
theories  which  are  most  received  in  the  English  school  at  this 
day.  It  is  evident,  that  if  the  literal  interpretation  of  Genesis, 
by  a  period  of  six  natural  days,  bad  not  restrained  him,  he 
would  have  gone  much  farther  in  his  views  of  the  progressive 
revolutions  of  the  earth.3  Leibnitz  had  made  very  minute 
inquiries  for  his  age  into  fossil  species,  and  was  aware  of  the 
main  facts  which  form  the  basis  of  modern  geology.4 


SECT.  HE. — ON  Ax  ATOMY  AND  MEDICINE. 

34.  PORTAL  begins  the  history  of  this  period,  which  occu- 
pies more  than  800  pages  of  his  voluminous  work,  by  announ- 
cing it  as  the  epoch  most  favorable  to  anatomy :  in  less  than 
fifty  years,  the  science  put  on  a  new  countenance ;  nature  is 

1  Sect.  21.    He  admits  also  a  partial  tantum  massi  ex  terrae  basi  accipio ;  nee 
elevation  by  intumescence,  but  says,  "  Ut  dubito,  postea  materiaui  liquidam  in  su- 
Yastissimae    Alpes   ex    solidS    jam    terra,  perficie  telluris  procurrentem,  quiete  mox 
eruptione  surrexerint,    minus    consenta-  rrdditu,   ex   ramentis   subactis   ingentem 
urn m    jm  to.      Scimus  tamen  et  in  illis  materiae  Tim  deposuisse,  quorum  alia  va- 

•deprehendi  reliquiae  maris.      Cum    ergo  rias  terrae  species  formarunt,  alia  in  saxa 

alterutrum  factum  oporteat,    credibilius  induruere;  e  quibus  strata  diversa  sibi  su- 

multo  arbitror  deftuxisse  aquas  gpontaneo  per  imposita  diversas  praecipitationum  yi- 

nisu,   quam   ingentem   terrarum   par  tern  ces  atque  intervalla  testantur." —  Sect.  4. 

incredibili  vlolentia  tarn  alte  ascendisse."  This    he    calls   the  incunabula  of  th« 

Sect.  22.  world,  and  the  basis  of  a  new  science, 

2  "  Fades  teneri  adhuc  orbis  sacpius  no-  which  might  be  denominated  "  naturalia 
Tataest;  donee  quiescentibus  causis  atque  geographia."   But  wisely  adds, "  Licet  con- 
oequilibratis,  consistentioremergeret status  Spirent  vestigia  yeteris  mundi  in  present! 
rerum.     Unde  jam  duplex  origo  intelligi-  Jacie    rerum,   tamen   rectius   omnia  defl- 
tur  firmorum  corporum  ;   una  cum  ignis  nient  posted,  ubi  curiositas  eo  processerit, 
fusione  refrigescerent,   altera  cum  recon-  ut  per  regiones  procurrentia  soli  genera  et 
erescerent  ex  solutione  aquarum.    Neque  strata  describant.''  —  Sect  6. 

Igitur  putaudum  est  lapides  ex  solA  csse        »  See  sect.  21,  et  alibi, 
futione.    Id  enlm  potissimum  de  prima       «  Sect.  24,  a  tuque  ad  finem  libri. 


CHAP.  VIII.          CIRCULATION  OF  THE  BLOOD.  339 

interrogated ;  every  part  of  the  body  is  examined  with  an 
observing  spirit ;  the  mutual  intercourse  of  nations  diffuses  the 
light  on  every  side ;  a  number  of  great  men  appear,  whose 
genius  and  industry  excite  our  admiration.1  But,  for  this- very 
reason,  I  must  in  these  concluding  pages  glide  over  a  subject 
rather  foreign  to  my  own  studies,  and  to  those  of  the  generali- 
ty of  my  readers,  with  a  very  brief  enumeration  of  names. 

35.  The  Harveian  theory  gained  ground,  though  obstinate 
prejudice  gave  way  but  slowly.     It  was  confirmed  c^u^ti,,,, 
by  the  experiment  of  transfusing  blood,  tried  on  dogs,  of  blood  es- 
at  the  instance  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  in  1657,  fa 

and  repeated  by  Lower  in  1661.2  Malpighi  in  1661,  and 
Leeuwenhoek  in  1690,  by  means  of  their  microscopes,  de- 
monstrated the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  smaller  vessels, 
and  rendered  visible  the  anastomoses  of  the  arteries  and 
veins,  upon  which  the  theory  depended.3  From  this  time,  it 
seems  to  have  been  out  of  doubt.  Pecquet's  discovery  of  the 
thoracic  duct  (or  rather  of  its  uses,  as  a  reservoir  of  the  chyle 
from  which  the  blood  is  elaborated,  for  the  canal  itself  had 
been  known  to  Eustachius)  stands  next  to  that  of  Harvey, 
which  would  have  thrown  less  light  on  physiology  without  it ; 
and,  like  his,  was  perseveringly  opposed.4 

36.  Willis,  a  physician  at  Oxford,  is  called  by  Portal,  who 
thinks  all  mankind  inferior  to  anatomists,  one  of  the   wiiiis; 
greatest  geniuses  that  ever  lived :   his  bold  systems   Vleussens- 
have  given  him  a  distinguished  place   among   physiologers.3 
His  Anatomy  of  the  Brain,  in  which,  however,  as  in  his  other 
works,  he  was  much  assisted  by  an  intimate  friend  and  anato- 
mist of  the  first  character,  Lower,  is,  according  to  the  same 
writer,  a  masterpiece  of  imagination  and  labor.      He  made 
many  discoveries  in  the  structure  of  the  brain,  and  has  traced 
the  nerves  from  it  far  better  than  his  predecessors,  who  had,  in 
general,  very  obscure  ideas  of  their  course.      Sprengel  says 
that  Willis  is  the  first  who  has  assigned  a  peculiar  mental 
function  to  each  of  the  different  parts  of  the  brain  ;  forgetting, 
as  it  seems,  that  this  hypothesis,  the  basis  of  modern  phreno- 
logy, had  been  generally  received,  as  I  understand  his  own 
account,  in  the  sixteenth  century.6     Vieussens  of  Montpellier 
carried  on  the  discoveries  in  the  anatomy  of  the  nerves,  in  his 

1  HJft  de  1'Anatomie,  Tol.  iii.  p.  1.  *  Portal;  Sprengel. 

»  Sprengel,  Hist,  de  la  Medecine,  vol.  ir.  *  P.  88  ;  Biogr.  Unir. 

p.  120.  •  Sprengel,  vol.  IT.   p.  250.    Compar* 

*  Id.,  pp.  126, 142  TOl.  iii.  p.  201. 


340  MALPIGHI  AND  OTHER  ANATOMISTS.        PART  IV 

Neurographia  Universalis,  1684;  tracing  those  arising  from 
the  spinal  marrow,  which  Willis  had  not  done,  and  following 
the  minute  ramifications  of  those  that  are  spread  over  the 
skin.1 

37.  Malpighi  was  the  first  who  employed  good  microscopes 

in  anatomy,  and  thus  revealed  the  secrets,  we  may 

Malpighi.  •••11  u        i-   i_   T 

say,  of  an  invisible  world,  which  Leeuwenhoek  atter- 
wards,  probably  using  still  better  instruments,  explored  with 
Other  ana-  surprising  success.  To  Malpighi,  anatomists  owe 
tomists.  their  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  the  lungs.2  Graaf 
has  overthrown  many  errors,  and  suggested  many  truths,  in 
the  economy  of  generation.3  Malpighi  prosecuted  this  inquiry 
with  his  microscope,  and  first  traced  the  progress  of  the  egg 
during  incubation.  But  the  theory  of  evolution,  as  it  is  called, 
proposed  by  Harvey,  and  supported  by  Malpighi,  received  a 
shock  by  Leeuwenhoek's  or  Hartsoeker's  discovery  of  sperma- 
tic animalcules,  which  apparently  opened  a  new  view  of  repro- 
duction. The  hypothesis  they  suggested  became  very  preva- 
lent for  the  rest  of  the  seventeenth  century,  though  it  is  said 
to  have  been  shaken  early  in  the  next.4  Borelli  applied 
mathematical  principles  to  muscular  movements  in  his  trea- 
tise De  Motu  Animalium.  Though  he  is  a  better  mathemati- 
cian than  anatomist,  he  produces  many  interesting  facts ;  the 
mechanical  laws  are  rightly  applied,  and  his  method  is  clear 
and  consequent.5  Duverney,  in  his  Treatise  on  Hearing,  in 
1683,  his  only  work,  obtained  a  considerable  reputation:  it 
threw  light  on  many  parts  of  a  delicate  organ,  which,  by  their 
minuteness,  had  long  baffled  the  anatomist.6  In  Mayow's 
Treatise  on  Respiration,  published  in  London,  1668,  we  find 
the  necessity  of  what  is  now  called  oxygen  to  that  function 
laid  down ;  but  this  portion  of  the  atmosphere  had  been  dis- 
covered by  Bathurst  and  Henshaw  in  1654,  and  Hooke  had 
shown  by  experiment  that  animals  die  when  the  air  is  de- 
prived of  it.7  Ruysch,  a  Dutch  physician,  perfected  the  art 
of  injecting  anatomical  preparations,  hardly  known  before; 
and  thus  conferred  an  inestimable  benefit  on  the  science.  He 
possessed  a  celebrated  cabinet  of  natural  history.8 

38.  The  chemical  theory  of  medicine,  which  had  descended 

1  Portal,  Tol.  Iv.  p.  5  ;  Sprengel,  p.  256 ;       «  Sprengel,  p.  309. 

Biogr.  Univ.  «  Portal,  iii.  246 ;  Biogr.  UnlT. 

2  Portal,  vol.    ill.    p.  120 ;    Sprengel,        •  Portal,  p.  464 ;  Sprengel,  p.  288 
P-  578.  f  Sprenj^l.  iii.  176, 181* 

»  Portal,  iii  219 ;  Sprengel,  p.  803.  Id.,  p.  259 ;  Biogr.  Unlr. 


CHAP.  YIIL    '  MEDICAL  THEORIES.  341 

from  Paracelsus  through  Van  Helmont,  was  propagated 
chiefly  by  Sylvius,  a  physician  of  Holland,  who  is  Medical 
reckoned  the  founder  of  what  was  called  the  chemia-  to60"68- 
trie  school.  His  works  were  printed  at  Amsterdam  in  1679  ; 
but  he  had  promulgated  his  theory  from  the  middle  of  the 
century.  His  leading  principle  was,  that  a  perpetual  fermen 
tation  goes  on  in  the  human  body,  from  the  deranged  action 
of  which  diseases  proceed  ;  most  of  them  from  excess  of  acidi- 
ty, though  a  few  are  of  alkaline  origin.  "  He  degraded  the 
physician,"  says  Sprengel,  "  to  the  level  of  a  distiller  or  a 
brewer." l  This  writer  is  very  severe  on  the  chemiatric 
school,  one  of  their  offences  in  his  eyes  being  their  recommen- 
dation of  tea ;  "  the  cupidity  of  Dutch  merchants  conspiring 
with  their  medical  theories."  It  must  be  owned,  that,  when 
we  find  them  prescribing  also  a  copious  use  of  tobacco,  it 
looks  as  if  the  trade  of  the  doctor  went  hand  in  hand  with 
those  of  his  patients.  Willis,  in  England,  was  a  partisan  of 
the  chemiatrics,2  and  they  had  a  great  influence  in  Germany ; 
though  in  France  the  attachment  of  most  physicians  to  the 
Hippocratic  and  Galenic  methods,  which  brought  upon  them 
so  many  imputations  of  pedantry,  was  little  abated.  A  second 
school  of  medicine,  which  superseded  this,  is  called  the  iatro- 
mathematical.  Tlu's  seems  to  have  arisen  in  Italy.  Borelli's 
application  of  mechanical  principles  to  the  muscles  has  been 
mentioned  above.  These  physicians  sought  to  explain  every 
thing  by  statical  and  hydraulic  laws :  they  were,  therefore,  led 
to  study  anatomy,  since  it  was  only  by  an  accurate  knowledge 
of  all  the  parts  that  they  could  apply  their  mathematics. 
John  Bernouilli  even  taught  them  to  employ  the  differential 
calculus  in  explaining  the  bodily  functions.3  But  this  school 
seems  to  have  had  the  same  leading  defect  as  the  chemiatric  : 
it  forgot  the  peculiarity  of  the  laws  of  organization  and  life, 
which  often  render  those  of  inert  matter  inapplicable.  Pit- 
cairn  and  Boerhaave  were  leaders  of  the  iatro-mathemati- 
cians ;  and  Mead  was  reckoned  the  last  of  its  distinguished 
patrons.4  Meantime,  a  third  school  of  medicine  grew  up, 
denominated  the  empirical ;  a  name  to  be  used  in  a  good 
sense,  as  denoting  their  regard  to  observation  and  experience, 
or  the  Baconian  principles  of  philosophy.  Sydenham  was  the 

»  Vol.  T.  p.  53:  Biogr.  Uniy.  «  Id.,  p.  182.     See  Biographic  Univer 

*  Sprengel.  p   73.  selle.  art.  '•  Boerhaave."  fora  general  cri 

*  Id.,  p.  169.  ticisui  of  the  iatro-mathemataciana. 


342  ORIENTAL  LITERATURE.  PART  IV 

first  of  these  in  England ;  but  they  gradually  prevailed,  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  systematic  theory.  The  discovery  of 
several  medicines,  especially  the  Peruvian  bark,  which  was 
first  used  in  Spain  about  1640,  and  in  England  about  1654, 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  empirical  physicians,  since 
the  efficacy  of  some  of  these  could  not  be  explained  on  the 
hypotheses  hitherto  prevalent.1 


SECT.  IV.  —  ON  ORIENTAL  LITERATURE. 

39.  THE  famous  Polyglot  of  Brian  Walton  was  published 
Polyglot  of  in  1657:  but  few  copies  appear  to  have  been  sold 
Walton.       before  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.  in   1660,  since 
those  are  very  scarce  which  contain  in  the  preface  the  praise 
of  Cromwell  for  having  facilitated  and  patronized  the  under- 
taking ;   praise  replaced  in  the  change  of  times  by  a  loyal 
eulogy  on  the  king.      This   Polyglot  is  in  nine  languages ; 
though  no  one  book  of  the  Bible  is  printed  in  so  many.     Wal- 
ton's Prolegomena  are  in  sixteen  chapters    or   dissertations. 
His  learning,  perhaps,  was  greater  than  his  critical  acuteness 
or  good  sense :   such  at  least  is  the  opinion  of  Simon  and  Le 
Long.     The  former,  in  a  long  examination  of  Walton's  Pro- 
legomena, treats  him  with  all  the   superiority  of  a  man  who 
possessed  both.     Walton  was  assailed  by  some  bigots  at  home 
for  acknowledging  various  readings  in  the  Scriptures,  and  for 
denying  the  authority  of  the  vowel-punctuation.     His  Poly- 
glot is  not  reckoned  so  magnificent  as  the  Parisian  edition  of 
Le  Long;    but  it  is  fuller  and  more  convenient.2     Edmund 
Castell,  the  coadjutor  of  Walton  in  this  work,  published  his 
Lexicon  Heptaglotton  in  1669,  upon  which  he  had  consumed 
eighteen  years  and  the  whole  of  his  substance.     This  is  fre- 
quently sold  together  with  the  Polyglot. 

40.  Hottinger  of  Zurich,  by  a  number  of  works  on  the 
Hottinger.   Eastern  languages,  and  especially  by  the  Bibliotheca 

Orientalis  in   1658,  established  a  reputation  which 
these  books  no  longer  retain  since  the  whole  field  of  Oriental 

1  Sprengel,  p.  413.  tament,  p.  541 ;  Chalmers ;  Biogr.  Britan. ; 

»  Sunon,  Hist.  Critique  du  Vieux  Tea-    Biogr.  Univ. ;  Brunei,  Man.  du  Libraire. 


CHAP.  VIH.        POCOCKE— D'HERBELOT  — HYDE.  34o 

literature  has  been  more  fully  explored.     Spencer,  in  a  trea- 
tise of  great  erudition,  De  Legibus  Hebraeorum,  1685, 
gave  some  offence  by  the  suggestion,  that  several 
of  the  Mosaic  institutions  were  borrowed  from  the  Egyptian, 
though  the  general  scope  of  the  Jewish  law  was  in  opposition 
to  the  idolatrous  practices  of  the  neighboring  nations.     The 
vast  learning  of  Bochart  expanded  itself  over  Orien- 
tal antiquity,  especially  that  of  which  the  Hebrew 
nation  and  language  is  the  central  point ;    but  his  etymologi 
cal  conjectures  have  long  since  been  set  aside,  and  he  has  nol 
in  other  respects,  escaped  the  fate  of  the  older  Orientalists. 

41.  The  great  services  of  Pococke  to  Arabic  literature 
which  had  commenced  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  cen- 
tury, were  extended  to  the  present.     His  edition  and 
translation  of  the  Annals  of  Eutychius  in  1658,  that  of  the 
History  of  Abulfaragius  in  1663,  with  many  other  works  of  a 
similar  nature,  bear  witness  to  his  industry :  no  Englishman 
probably  has  ever  contributed  so  much  to  that  province  of 
learning.1     A  fine  edition  of  the  Koran,  and  still  esteemed 
the  best,  was  due  to  Marracci,  professor  of  Arabic  in  the  Sa- 
pienza  or  University  of  Rome,  and  published,  at  the  expense 
of  Cardinal  Barbadigo,  in  1698.2     But  France  had  an  Orien- 
talist of  the  most  extensive  learning  in  D'Herbelot,  _,, 

-r..,  i.     ,   N  ~.  •  i  i       'D'Herbelot. 

whose  Bibhotheque  Onentale  must  be  considered  as 
making  an  epoch  in  this  literature.  It  was  published  in  1697, 
after  his  death,  by  Galland,  who  had  also  some  share  in 
arranging  the  materials.  This  work,  it  has  been  said,  is  for 
the  seventeenth  century  what  the  History  of  the  Huns  by  De 
Guignes  is  for  the  eighteenth ;  with  this  difference,  that 
D'Herbelot  opened  the  road,  and  has  often  been  copied  by  his 
successor.3 

42.  Hyde,  in  his  Religionis  Persarum  Historia,  published 
in  1700,  was  the  first  who  illustrated  in  a  systematic 
manner  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  which  he  always 
represents  in  a  favorable  manner.     The  variety  and  novelty 
of  its  contents  gave  this  book  a  credit,  which,  in  some  degree, 
it  preserves  ;  but  Hyde  was  ignorant  of  the  ancient  language 
of  Persia,  and  is  said  to  have  been  often  misled  by  Moham- 
medan authorities.4     The  vast  increase  of  Oriental  informa- 
tion in  modern  times,  as  has  been  intimated  above,  renders  it 

1  Chalmers ;  Biogr.  Univ.  »  Biographic  UnJTerselle. 

*  Tiraboschi,  xi.  398.  *  Id. 


844  GEOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY.  PAKT  IV 

difficult  for  any  work  of  the  seventeenth  century  to  keep  its 
ground.  In  their  own  times,  the  writings  of  Kircher  on 
China,  and  still  more  those  of  Ludolf  on  Abyssinia,  which 
were  founded  on  his  own  knowledge  of  the  country,  claimed  a 
respectable  place  in  Oriental  learning.  It  is  remarkable  that 
very  little  was  yet  known  of  the  Indian  languages,  though 
grammars  existed  of  the  Tamul,  and  perhaps  some  others, 
before  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.1 


SECT.  V.  —  ON  GEOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY. 

43.  THE  progress  of  geographical  science  long  continued 
Maps  of  the  *°  ^e  slow.  If  we  compare  the  map  of  the  world  in 
Sansons.  1Q51  by  Nicolas  Sanson,  esteemed  on  all  sides  the 
best  geographer  of  his  age,  with  one  by  his  son  in  1692, 
the  differences  will  not  appear,  perhaps,  so  considerable  as 
we  might  have  expected.  Yet  some  improvement  may  be 
detected  by  the  eye.  Thus  the  Caspian  Sea  has  assumed  its 
longer  diameter  from  north  to  south,  contrary  to  the  old  map. 
But  the  Sea  of  Aral  is  still  wanting.  The  coasts  of  New 
Holland,  except  to  the  east,  are  tolerably  laid  down ;  and 
Corea  is  a  peninsula  instead  of  an  island.  Cambalu,  the 
imaginary  capital  of  Tartary,  has  disappeared;2  but  a  vast 
lake  is  placed  in  the  centre  of  that  region :  the  Altai  range  is 
carried  far  too  much  to  the  north,  and  the  name  of  Siberia 
seems  unknown.  Africa  and  America  have  nearly  the  same 
outline  as  before :  in  the  former,  the  empire  of  Monomotopa 
stretches  to  join  that  of  Abyssinia  in  about  the  12th  degree  of 
south  latitude ;  and  the  Nile  still  issues,  as  in  all  the  old 
maps,  from  a  Lake  Zayre,  in  nearly  the  same  parallel.  The 
coasts  of  Europe,  and  especially  of  Scandinavia,  are  a  little 
more  accurate  than  before.  The  Sanson  family,  of  whom 
several  were  publishers  of  maps,  did  not  take  pains  enough  to 
improve  what  their  father  had  executed,  though  they  might 
have  had  material  helps  from  the  astronomical  observations 
which  were  now  continually  made  in  different  parts  of  the 
world. 

1  Eichhorn.  Gesch.  der  Cultur,  T.  269.       quently  placed  this  capital  ol  Tathay  north 
1  The  Cambalu  cf  Marco   Polo  is  pro-    of  the  Wall  of  China, 
bably  Pekin;    but  the  geographers  fire- 


CHAP.  VIII.        MAPS  —  VOYAGES  AND  TRAVELS.  345 

44.  Such  was  the  state  of  geography,  when,  in  1699,  De 
Lisle,  the  real  founder  of  the  science,  at  the  age  of  ^  j^^ 
twenty-four,  published  his  map  of  the  world.  He  map  of  the 
had  been  guided  by  the  observations,  and  worked  w 
under  the  directions,  of  Cassini,  whose  tables  of  the  emersion 
of  Jupiter's  satellites,  calculated  for  the  meridian  of  Bologna, 
in  1 668,  and,  with  much  improvement,  for  that  of  Paris,  in 
1693,  had  prepared  the  way  for  the  perfection  of  geography. 
The  latitudes  of  different  regions  had  been  tolerably  ascer- 
tained by  observation ;  but  no  good  method  of  determining 
the  longitude  had  been  known  before  this  application  of 
Galileo's  great  discovery.  It  is  evident,  that,  the  appearance 
of  one  of  those  satellites  at  Paris  being  determined  by  the 
tables  to  a  precise  instant,  the  means  were  given,  with  the 
help  of  sufficient  clocks,  to  find  the  longitudinal  distance  of 
other  places  by  observing  the  difference  of  time ;  and  thus,  a 
great  number  of  observations  having  gradually  been  made, 
a  basis  was  laid  for  an  accurate  delineation  of  the  surface  of 
the  globe.  The  previous  state  of  geography,  and  the  imper- 
fect knowledge  which  the  mere  experience  of  navigators 
could  furnish,  may  be  judged  by  the  fact,  that  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea  was  set  down  with  an  excess  of  300  leagues 
in  length,  being  more  than  one-third  of  the  whole.  De 
Lisle  reduced  it  within  its  bounds,  and  cut  off  at  the  same 
time  500  leagues  from  the  longitude  of  Eastern  Asia.  This 
was  the  commencement  of  the  geographical  labors  of  De 
Lisle,  which  reformed,  in  the  first  part  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  not  only  the  general  outline  of  the  world,  but  the 
minuter  relations  of  various  countries.  His  maps  amount  to 
more  than  one  hundred  sheets.1 

45.  The  books  of  travels,  in  the  last  fifty  years  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  were  far  more  numerous  and  voyages 
more  valuable  than  in  any  earlier  period;  but  we  anil  travel* 
have  no  space  for  more  than  a  few  names.  Gemelli  Carreri, 
a  Neapolitan,  is  the  first  who  claims  to  have  written  an  ac- 
count of  his  own  travels  round  the  world,  describing  Asia  and 
America  with  much  detail.  His  Giro  del  Mondo  was  pub- 
lished in  1699.  Carreri  has  been  strongly  suspected  of  fabri- 
cation, and  even  of  having  never  seen  the  countries  which  ho 
describes ;  but  his  character,  I  know  not  with  what  justice, 

1  Eloge  de  De  Lisle,  in  CEuvres  de  Fontenelle,  TO!,  vi.  p.  253 ;  Eloge  de  Cassini,  In 
fol.  T.  p.  328  ;  Biogi   Dniv. 


316  HISTORIANS  —  DE  SOUS— DE  RETZ.         PAKT  IV 

X* 

has  been  latterly  vindicated.1  The  French  justly  boast  the 
excellent  travels  of  Chardin,  Bernier,  Thevenot,  and  Taver- 
nier,  in  the  East :  the  account  of  the  Indian  Archipelago  and 
of  China  by  Nieuhoff,  employed  in  a  Dutch  embassy  to  the 
latter  empire,  is  said  to  have  been  interpolated  by  the  editors, 
though  he  was  an  accurate  and  faithful  observer.2  Several 
other  relations  of  voyages  were  published  in  Holland,  some 
of  which  can  only  be  had  in  the  native  language.  In  English, 
there  were  not  many  of  high  reputation :  Dampier's  Voyage 
round  the  World,  the  first  edition  of  which  was  in  1697,  is 
better  known  than  any  which  I  can  call  to  mind. 

46.  The  general  characteristics  of  historians  of  this  period 
„,  L  .        are  neither  a  luminous  philosophy,  nor  a  rigorous 

Historians.  ...  /.        •  i  i_    /• 

examination  of  evidence.      But,  as  before,  we  men- 
tion only  a  few  names  in  this  extensive  province  of  literature. 
g  „        The  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico  by  Antonio 
de  Solis  is  "  the  last  good  work,"  says  Sismondi,  per- 
haps too  severely  as  to  others,  "  that  Spain  has  produced ;  the 
last  where  purity  of  taste,  simplicity  and  truth,  are  preserved : 
the   imagination,  of  which  the  author  had  given   so   many 
proofs,  does  not  appear."3     Bouterwek  is  not  less  favorable; 
but  Robertson,  who  holds  De  Solis  rather  cheap  as  an  histo- 
rian, does  not  fail  to  censure  even  his  style. 

47.  The  French  have  some  authors   of  history,  who,  by 
Memoirs  of  their  elegance  and  perspicuity,  might  deserve  notice ; 
D«  Ketz.      such  as  St.  Real,  Father  D'Orleans,  and  even  Varil- 
las,  proverbially  discredited  as  he  is  for  want  of  veracity. 
The  Memoirs  of  Cardinal  de  Retz  rise  above  these :    their 
animated  style,  their  excellent  portraitures  of  character,  their 
acute  and  brilliant  remarks,  distinguish  their  pages,  as  much 
as  the  similar  qualities  did  their  author.    "  They  are  written," 
says  Voltaire,  "  with  an  air  of  greatness,  an  impetuosity  and 
an  inequality  which  are  the  image  of  his  life :    his  expression, 
sometimes  incorrect,  often  negligent,  but  almost  always  origi- 
nal, recalls  continually  to  his  readers  what  has  been  so  fre- 
quently said  of  Caesar's  Commentaries,  that  he  wrote  with  the 
same   spirit  that  he  carried  on  his  wars."4      The  Memoirs 
of   Grammont,   by  Antony    Hamilton,   scarcely  challenge  a 
place  as  historical ;  but  we  are  now  looking  more  at  the  style 

1  Tiraboschi,  ri.  86 ;  Salfl,  jd.  442.  «  Biogr.  Unit    whence  I  taks  the  quo- 

*  Biogr.  UniT.  tation. 

»  Uttirature  Uu  Midi,  iv.  101 


CHAP.  Yin.  BOSSUET  — BUKNET.  847 

than  the  intrinsic  importance  of  books.  Every  one  is  aware 
of  the  peculiar  felicity  and  fascinating  gayety  which  they 
display. 

48.  The  Discourse  of  Bossuet  on  Universal  History  is  per- 
haps  the   greatest  effort  of  his  wonderful   genius.  Bogsueton 
ETery  preceding  abridgment  of  so  immense  a  sub-  Universal 
ject  had  been  superficial  and  dry.    He  first  irradiated  L 

the  entire  annals  of  antiquity  down  to  the  age  of  Charle- 
magne with  Hashes  of  light  that  reveal  an  unity  and  coherence 
which  had  been  lost  in  their  magnitude  and  obscurity.  It  is 
not  perhaps  an  unfair  objection,  that,  in  a  history  calling  itself 
that  of  all  mankind,  the  Jewish  people  have  obtained  a  dis- 
proportionate regard ;  and  it  might  be  almost  as  reasonable, 
on  religious  grounds,  to  give  Palestine  an  ampler  space  in  the 
map  of  the  world,  as,  on  a  like  pretext,  to  make  the  scale  of 
the  Jewish  history  so  much  larger  than  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
human  race.  The  plan  of  Bossuet  has  at  least  divided  his 
book  into  two  rather  heterogeneous  portions.  But  his  concep- 
tions of  Greek,  and  still  more  of  Roman  history,  are  generally 
magnificent;  profound  in  philosophy,  with  an  outline  firm  and 
sufficiently  exact,  never  condescending  to  trivial  remarks  or 
petty  details ;  above  all,  written  in  that  close  and  nervous 
style,  which  no  one,  certainly  in  the  French  language,  has  ever 
surpassed.  It  is  evident  that  Montesquieu  in  all  his  writings, 
but  especially  in  the  Grandeur  et  Decadence  des  Remains, 
had  the  Discourse  of  Bossuet  before  his  eyes :  he  is  more 
acute  sometimes,  and  ingenious,  and  has  reflected  longer  on 
particular  topics  of  inquiry ;  but  he  wants  the  simple  majesty, 
the  comprehensive  eagle-like  glance,  of  the  illustrious  prelate. 

49.  Though  we  fell  short  in  England  of  the  historical  repu- 
tation   which   the  first  part  of  the    century  might   En  1Jgh 
entitle  us  to  claim,  this  period  may  be  reckoned  that  historical 
in  which   a   critical   attention   to   truth,  sometimes   works- 
rather  too  minute,  but  always  praiseworthy,  began  to  be  cha- 
racteristic of  our  researches  into  fact.     The  only  book  that  I 
shall  mention  is  Burnet's  History  of  the  Reforma-  ^ 

J  Burnet. 

tion,  written  in  a  better  style  than  those,  who  know 
Burnet  by  his  later  and  more  negligent  work,  are  apt  to  con- 
ceive, and  which  has  the  signal  merit  of  having  been  the  first 
in  English,  as  far  as  I  remember,  which  is  fortified  by  a  large 
appendix  of  documents.  This,  though  frequent  in  Latin,  had 
not  been  so  usual  in  the  modern  languages.  It  became  gradu- 


348  CONCLUSION.  PART  IV. 

ally  very  frequent  and  almost  indispensable  in  historical  writ- 
ings, where  the  materials  had  any  peculiar  originality. 

50.  The  change  in  the  spirit  of  literature  and  of  the  public 

mind  in  general,  which  had  with  gradual  and  never 

General  ,.       °   ,  ',  f 

character  receding  steps  been  coming  forward  in  the  seven- 
teenth  century,  but  especially  in  the  latter  part  of  it, 
has  been  so  frequently  pointed  out  to  the  readers 
of  this  and  the  last  volume,  that  I  shall  only  quote  an  obser- 
vation of  Bayle.  "I  believe,"  he  says,  "that  the  sixteenth 
century  produced  a  greater  number  of  learned  men  than  the 
seventeenth ;  and  yet  the  former  of  these  ages  was  far  from 
being  as  enlightened  as  the  latter.  During  the  reign  of  criti- 
cism and  philology,  we  saw  in  all  Europe  many  prodigies  of 
erudition.  Since  the  study  of  the  new  philosophy  and  that 
of  living  languages  has  introduced  a  different  taste,  we  have 
ceased  to  behold  this  vast  and  deep  learning.  But,  in  return, 
there  is  diffused  through  the  republic  of  letters  a  more  sub- 
tle understanding  and  a  more  exquisite  discernment:  men 
are  now  less  learned,  but  more  able."1  The  volumes  which  are 
now  submitted  to  the  public  contain  sufficient  evidence  of  this 
intellectual  progress  both  in  philosophy  and  in  polite  litera- 
ture. 

51.  I  here  terminate  a  work,  which,  it  is  hardly  necessary 
Conclusion  *°  sav'  nas  furaisne(l  the  occupation  of  not  very  few 

'  years,  and  which,  for  several  reasons,  it  is  not  my 
intention  to  prosecute  any  farther.  The  length  of  theso 
volumes  is  already  greater  than  I  had  anticipated ;  yet  I  do 
not  perceive  much  that  could  have  been  retrenched,  without 
loss  to  a  part,  at  least,  of  the  literary  world.  For  the  appro- 
bation which  the  first  of  them  has  received,  I  am  grateful ; 
for  the  few  corrections  that  have  been  communicated  to  me,  I 
am  not  less  so :  the  errors  and  deficiencies  of  which  I  am 
not  specially  aware  may  be  numerous ;  yet  I  cannot  affect  to 
doubt  that  I  have  contributed  something  to  the  general  litera- 
ture of  my  country,  something  to  the  honorable  estimation  of 
my  own  name,  and  to  the  inheritance  of  those,  if  it  is  for  ma 
still  to  cherish  that  hope,  to  whom  I  have  to  bequeathe  it. 

»  Dhtionnaire  de  Bayle,  art.  "  Aconce,"  note  D. 


INDEX 


INDEX. 


*•*  The  Roman  Numerals  refer  to  the  Volumes ;  the  Arabic  Figures,  to  the  Pages  tf 
each  Volume 


ABBADIE. 

ABB  ADIE,  M.,  his  treatise  on  Christianity, 
iv.  51. 

Abelard,  Peter,  era  and  disciples  of,  1.  37  — 
Abelard  and  Eloisa,  54.  See  "  Eloisa." 

Abernethy,  Mr.,  on  the  Theory  of  Life, 
iv.  68. 

Absalom  and  Achitophel  of  Dryden,  iv.  233. 

Abulfaragius,  translation  of,  by  Pococke, 
iv.  313. 

Abyssinia,  Ludolf  s  account  of,  iv.  344. 

Academy,  Aldine,  i.  262  —  Neapolitan,  119, 
234  — Florence,  467;  ii.  298;  iii.  437  — 
Siena,  437— Modena,  i.  367;  ii.  350  — 
Venice,  350  —  French,  established  by 
Richelieu,  Hi.  348-351  — its  sentiments 
respecting  the  Cid  of  Corneille,  350 
-its  labors,  iv.  282  — Del  Cimento,  318 
—  Delia  Crusca,  ii.  298;  iii.  437  — Lin- 
cean,  394,  437  —  French  Academy  of 
Sciences,  iv.  320  — Rhenish,  i.  218  — of 
Italy,  i.  466:  ii.  294.3:  iii.  436— Socie- 
ty of  Arcadians,  ii.  183;  iv.  215,  276  — 
Royal  Society  of  London,  iii.  72,  73 ; 
iv  '319,  320,  336— Literary  Societies  of 
Germany,  iii.  239. 

Accursius,  school  of  law  of,  i.  83,  85 ;  ii. 
170. 

Achillini,  anatomist,  i.  456. 

Acidalius,  the  philologist,  ii.  22. 

Aconcio,  De  Stratagematibus  Satanse,  ii. 
88,  424. 

Acosta,  history  of  the  Indies  by,  ii.  341 ; 
iii.  412. 

Adam,  Melchior,  ii.  31,  notrs  i,  *. 

Adami,  Tobias,  Prodromus  Philosophise 
Instauratio  of,  iii.  20. 

Addison.  Joseph,  remarks  of,  iii.  81,  note, 
42;  iv.  140,  228,  note,  240  —  on  the 
Paradise  Lost,  226,  228,  notes. 

Adelard  of  Bath,  his  Euclid's  Elements,  i. 
129. 

Adimari,  Alessandro,  translator  of  Pindar, 
iii.  228 


Adone  of  Mariri,  iii.  223  —  character  of 

the  poem,  ib.  — its  popularity.  224. 
Adrian  VI.,  pontificate  of,  i.  29,  325. 
Adrian's  lines  to  Floras,  i.  51,  note. 
Adriani,    continuator    of    Guicciardini'a 

History,  ii.  345. 

Adversaria,  or  Note-book  on  the  Classics, 
ii.  19,  20  —  of  Gaspar  Barthius,  367  — 
of  Gateker,  iv.  16. 

Egypt,  history  a'nd  chronology  of,  iv.  23. 
.iEneid,  Greek  version  of,  ii.  49. 
^schylus,  ii.  14— by  Stanley,  iv.  16. 
.55sop,  L'Estrange's  translation  of,  iv.  298. 
Ethiopia  version  of  the  New  Testament 

printed  at  Rome  in  1548,  i.  463. 
Africa,  travels  in,  ii.  343. 
Agard,  Arthur,  the  antiquary,  ii.  351  and 

note. 
Agostini,  his  continuation  of  the  Orlando 

Innamorato,  i.  235. 

Agricola  of  Saxony,  mineralogist, !.  461. 
Agricola,  Rodolph,  of  Groningen,  i.  126, 

194  — his  erudition,  217. 
Agrippa,  Cornelius,  i.  321,  392  —  his  scep- 
tical treatise,  393;  iii.  23. 
Agustino,  eminent  jurist,  i.  235. 
Ainsworth,  scholar,  iii.  427. 
Air,  atmospheric,  its  specific  gravity,  mer- 
cury used  in  determining  its  pressure, 
iii.  405. 

Alabaster,  his  tragedy  of  Roxana,  iii.  268. 
Alamanni,  ii.  191  — the  sonnets  of,  i.  412, 
413  —  sublimity  of  his  poetry,  414  — 
severity  of  his  satire,  ib. 
Alba,  Duke  of,  remark  on,  ii.  148. 
Albano,  paintings  of,  ii.  199. 
Albaten,  Arabian  geometrician,  1. 171. 
Albert,  Archbishop  of  Mentz,  i.  293. 
Albert!,  Leo  Baptists,  a  man  of  universal 

genius,  i.  227. 
Albertus  Magnus,  philosophical  works  of, 

i.  36,  note,  134. 
Alcala,  Polyglot  Bible  of,  i.  319 


352 


INDEX. 


Alcala,  school  at,  i.  278,  339— library  of, 

469;  ii.  848. 

Alchemist,  Ben  Jonson's  play,  iii.  807. 
Alchemy,  study  of,  i.  132. 
Alciati,  Andrew,  of  Milan,  restorer  of  the 

Roman  law,  i.  409 ;  ii.  169, 170 
Alcinous,  philosophy  of.  iv.  66. 
Alcuin,  poems  of,  i.  28,  30,  and  notes— 

prejudice  of,  against  secular  learning,  28 

—  opinions  of  M.  Guizot  and  Mr.  Wright 
on,  29,  and  note  2  —  his  poem,  De  Pon- 
tificibus  Eboracensis,  31,  note  l. 

Aldi  Neacademia,  i.  262. 

Aldrich,  his  treatise  on  logic,  IT.  65. 

AldroTandus,  his  Collections  on  Zoology, 

ii.  325,  329;  iii.  411. 
Aldus  Manutius,  ii.  43— his  press,  i.  230, 

231  —  the  Aldine  types,  261 — editions 

of  classics,  275,  276,  330— Academy  at 

Venice  established  by,  466. 
Aleander,  professor  of  Greek,  i.  264, 
Aleman,    Matthew,   his   Guzman   d'Alfa- 

rache,  ii.  314. 
Alexander   ab   Alexandra,    his   Geniales 

Dies,  i.  330;  ii.  56. 
Alexander  of  Aphrodisea,  i.  387. 
Alexander,  Sir  William,  Earl  of  Stirling, 

sonnets  by,  iii.  256. 
Alexander's  Feast,  ode  on,  by  Dryden,  ir. 

237. 
Alexandrine  verse,  i.  52 ;  ii.  214 ;  iii.  240 

—  monotony  of,  250. 
Alfred,  King,  i.  39. 

Algebra,  science  of,  i.  246,  449;  iii.  377; 
iv.  99 — cubic  equations,  i.  449  —  posi- 
tive and  negative  roots,  451  —  biquad- 
ratic equations,  ib.  —  algebraic  language 
symbolical,  452 — letters  to  express  in- 
definite quantities,  ib. — Albert  Girard's, 
iii.  385  —  Wallis's  history  of,  387  — dis- 
coveries to,  ii.  31L-317  —  Colebrooke's 
Indian  Algebra ;  Hindoo  algebraists,  ii. 
812,  note  s  —  effect  of  the  study  of,  on 
the  understanding,  iii.  102 — progress  of, 
885  —  treatise  on,  in  1220.  i.  127. 

Algorism,  or  Notation,  i.  128. 

Alhazen,  works  of,  i.  130 ;  ii.  321. 

Alienation,  Grotius  on  the  right  of,  iii. 
188. 

Allen,  the  Jesuit,  ii.  95, 147. 

AUwoerden,  Life  of  Servetus  by,  51.  84, 
note  1. 

Almanac  for  1457,  the  first  printed,  i.  168. 

Ahneloveen,  his  Lives  of  the  Stephens 
Family,  ii.  24,  note  '. 

Alpinus,  Prosper,  De  Plantis  Exoticis,  il. 
331  — his  medical  knowledge,  336. 

Althusius,  John,  his  Politics,  iii.  160. 

Alvarez,  Emanuel,  grammarian,  ii.  37. 

Amadigi,  the  (or  Amadis),  of  Bernardo 
Tasso,  ii.  190. 

Amadis  de  Gaul,  romance  of,  I.  148,  312, 
438;  ii  304;  iii.  365,367  — a  new  era  of 
romance  produced  by  it,  1. 148. 

Amalfei,  brothers  and  Latin  poets,  ii.  238 


ATJTIQtTITIBS. 

Amaseo,  Romolo,  1.  441. 

Ambrogio,  Teseo,  Oriental  scholar,  i.  468. 

Ambrose  of  Bergamo,  named  Bifarius,  i 
112. 

Ambrose,  St.,  iii.  353. 

America,  discovery  of,  i.  271  —  animals  of. 
ii  d37 

America,  North,  discoveries  in,  ii.  342. 

Ampere,  Histoire  de  la  Langue  Franchise, 
i.  46,  note  *. 

Arnyot,  Jaques,  Plutarch  translated  by,  ii. 
284. 

Ana,  the,  or  collection  of  miscellaneous 
literature  of  France,  iii.  152 ;  iv.  296. 

Anabaptists,  the,  i.  353  —  their  occupation 
of  the  town  of  Munster.  364  —  their 
tenets,  ii.  85,  412;  iii.  182  — Luther'a 
opinion,  i.  373.  ' 

Anacreon,  iii.  227,  231. 

Anasilla,  sonnets  of,  ii.  188. 

Anatomy,  early  works  on,  1.  137,  270  — 
progress  of  discoveries  In,  456;  ii.  334; 
iii.  416;  iv.  338— on  comparative,  328, 
329  — of  plants,  333. 

Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Burton's,  iii.  360. 

Anaxagoras,  philosophy  of,  iii.  21,  42. 

Andreae,  John  Valentine,  works  of,  iii. 
163. 

Andreini,  the  Adamo  and  other  dramas 
of,  iii.  271. 

Andres,  the  Jesuit,  i.  53,  note  i ;  ii.  168, 
250,  436 — on  the  use  and  era  of  paper 
of  linen.  &c.,  i.  77  —  on  collegiate  foun- 
dations, 39  —  on  the  Spanish  theatre,  ii. 
249. 

Andrews,  Lancelot,  Bishop,  ii.  383,  391. 

Andromaque  of  Racine,  iv.  245  —  its  ex- 
cellences, ib.  246. 

Angelica  of  Boiardo,  i.  235. 

Angennes,  Julie  d',  beauty  of,  iii.  846. 

Angola,  chimpanzee  of,  iii.  412,  and  note. 

Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  i.  33  —  lang-uage, 
changes  to  English,  64  — MSS.  of  8th 
century,  107,  note  1. 

Anguillara,  Italian  translator  of  Ovid,  ii. 
192  — his  dramas,  249. 

Animals,  Natural  History  of,  iii.  411  — 
Icones  A  nin  i  a  limn  of  Gesner,  ii.  325  — 
description  of  various,  325-328 ;  iv.  325, 
327. 

Annius  of  Viterbo,  i.  249,  and  note;  ii 
877. 

Ansehn,  Archbishop,  on  the  existence  of 
a  Deity,  i.  36,  note,  90. 

Antinomianism,  i.  304. 
Antiquaries,  Society  of,  in  England,  found- 
ed by  Archbishop  Parker,  1572.  ii.  351. 
Antiquities,  the  study  of,  i.  181 ;  ii.  56,  375 

—  of  Greece,  375,  377  —  works  of  Zamo- 
scius,  Sigonius,  and  Meursius,  on  Gre- 
cian,   59,    381  —  Potter's    Antiquities, 
iv.  20  — Roman,  i.  326;  ii.  66,  375,  377 

—  works  of  Graevius  and  Gronovius.  iv. 
19  —  works  of  Parker  and  Godwin,  ii. 
65  —  collections  to  Italy,  349  —  decep- 


INTDEX. 


353 


ANTONINUS. 

Uons  practised,  377  —  Jewish,  Egyptian, 
Etruscan,  376,  377  —  liberality  of  the 
Medici  in  collecting  works  on,  i.  182  — 
veneration  for  antiquity,  121,  326  ;  ii. 
400;  iii.  438  —  controversy  on  the  com- 
parative merit  of  the  study,  438  —  Sir 
W.  Temple's  defence  of  it,  iv.  306. 

Antoninus,  Marcus,  Gataker's  edition  of, 
iv.  16. 

Antonio,  Nicolas,  the  Bibliotheca  Nova  of, 
i.  839  ;  U.  53  ;  iii.  230. 

Antonio  da  Pistoja.  i.  273.  note  s. 

Apatisti  of  Florence,  iii.  437. 

Apianus,  the  Cosmography  of,  i.  464. 

Apollouius,  geometry  of,  ii.  317. 

Apologues,  or  Parables,  of  Andreas,  iii. 
153,  note. 

Apparatus  of  early  writers,  i.  82. 

Apuleius,  Golden  Ass  of,  ii.  282. 

Aquapendente,  F.  de,  on  the  language  cf 
brutes,  iii.  413. 

Aquila,  Serafino,  d',  poet,  i.  237. 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  his  authority  as  a 
scholastic  writer,  i.  40  —  his  works, 
ib.  note  a  ;  ii.  82,  105;  iii.  132,  141,  142, 
143. 

Arabian  physicians,  the,  and  their  school 
of  medicine,  i.  454  —  mathematicians, 
170  —  style  of  poetry,  ii.  208,  note. 

Arabian  writers  early  employed  cotton- 
paper,  i.  76  —  eminent  scholars,  463; 
iii.  428. 

Arabic^study  of,  i.  463;  ii.  339;  iii.  427; 


. 
Arantius,  the  anatomist,  ii.  335  —  on  the 

pulmonary  circulation,  iii.  418. 
Aratus,  edition  of,  by  Grotius,  ii.  366. 
Arbiter,  Petronius,  style  of,  ii.  370. 
Arcadia  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  ii.  289,  290, 

note  >,  307,  309  ;  iii.  439  —  of  Sannazaro, 

i.  269  ;  ii.  305. 
Arcadians,   Society  of,  ii.   183;    iv.  215, 

276. 
Archimedes,  ii.  317,  323  —  inventions  of, 

iii.  378,  382,  383. 

Ardeu  of  Feversham,  play  of,  ii.  269. 
Areopagitica,  by  Milton,  iii.  359. 
Aretin,  Peter,  comedies  of,  i.  430  —  cha- 

racter of,  ii.  191  —  letters  of,  282. 
Aretino,  Leonardo,  surnamed  also  Bruni, 

his  Latinity,  i.  104  —  his  polished  style, 

106,  115  —  lives  of  Dante  and  Petrarch 

by,  175. 

Argenis,  Barclay's,  ii.  369  ;  iii.  372. 
Argens,  his  Jewish  Letters,  iv.  314. 
Argensola,  Bartholomew,  iii.  230. 
Argensola,  Lupercio,  iii.  230. 
Argentier,   his  medical  school,  1.   456  — 

novel  principle  asserted  by,  ib.  note  l. 
Argonue,   d',   a  Benedictine,    under    the 

name  of  Vigneul  Marville,  iii.  345,  and 

note  —  iv.  283,  286,  note  i.  297. 

VOL.  IV.  23 


Argyropulus,  Greek  grammarian,  L  162, 
|u8> 

Arian  doctrine,  the,  i.  368  — in  Italy,  ib. 
—in  England,  ii.  85;  iv.  43. 

Ariosto,  i.  174  —  his  Orlando  Furioso, 
309-312;  ii.  190,  197,  198,  234  —  hia 
satires  analyzed  by  Giuguene,  i.  413  — 
his  Epicurean  philosophy  and  gayety, 
ift.  —  Comedies  of,  275,  430  —  compari- 
son with  Tasso,  ii.  195,  197,  203  — with 
Spenser,  234  —  Harrington's  translation 
of,  227. 

Aristarchus,  sive  de  Arte  Grammaticl  of 
G.  Vossius,  ii.  373. 

Aristides,  version  of,  ii.  21. 

Aristocracy,  Bodin's  remarks  on,  ii.  155, 
157. 

Aristophanes,  by  Aldus,  i.  231  —  the 
Wasps  of,  iv.  276. 

Aristotelians,  disputes  of,  i.  162,  390 ;  iii. 
12  —  scholastic  and  genuine,  i.  384;  ii. 
105  — of  Italy,  i.  387. 

Aristotle,  philosophy  of,  i.  209,  385,  386; 
ii.  105, 121 ;  iii.  12, 401  — his  physics,  ii. 
322  — metaphysics,  iii.  12;  iv.  63,  82, 
]08_  opponents  of,  ii.  134.  See  "  Phi- 
losophy." His  Poetics,  ii.  296 ;  iv.  13  — 
rules  for  Greek  tragedy,  iii.  350  —  de- 
finition of  comedy,  iv.  274  —  history 
of  animals,  ii.  325  —  edition  of,  by 
Duval,  383  —  Jourdain  on  translations 
from,  i.  87,  note  -  —  hia  logic,  iii.  114, 
note. 

Arithmetic  of  Cassiodorus,  i.  27,  note  — 
of  Fibonacci,  127  —  of  Sacro  Bosco,  128. 

Armenian  dictionary,  iii.  429. 

Arminianism,  ii.  83  —  its  rise,  412  —  its 
tendency,  413 — its  progress,  415;  iv. 
38  —  in  England,  40  —  in  Holland,  ii.  83, 
420 ;  iv.  38,  39. 

Arminius,  James,  professor  at  Leyden.  ii. 
412. 

Armorica,  De  la  Rue's  researches  in,  i.  57, 
note  i  —  traditions  of,  ib. 

Arnauld,  Antoine,  French  controversial 
writer,  iii.  93;  iv.  28,  37,  81  — his  Art 
de  Penser.  65,  and  note3,  81,  127  —  on 
True  and  False  Ideas.  101  —  his  objec 
tions  to  the  Meditatioues  of  Descartes, 
iii.  76,  82. 

Arnauld,  Angelica,  iv.  37. 

Arndt's  True  Christianity,  ii.  441. 

Aromatari,  botanical  writer,  iv.  335. 

Arrebo,  Norwegian  poet,  iii.  243. 

Ars  Magna,  by  Jerome  Cardan,  the  alge- 
braist, i.  449. 

Ars  Magna,  of  Raymond  LuUy,  i.  320, 321. 

Artedi,  works  of,  ii.  329. 

Arthur  and  the  Round  Table,  early  ro-« 
mances  of,  i.  148,  note  2 ;  ii.  309  —  Ques- 
tion as  to  his  victories,  i.  67,  note  1  — 
remarks  on  the  story  of,  ib.  148. 

Arundelian  marbles,  at  Oxford,  ii.  376. 

Ascensius,  Badius,  the  printer  and  com- 
mentator, i.  263,  335;  ii.  22 


854 


INDEX. 


Aachani,  i.  346;  iii.  354  —  his  treatise  of 

the  Schoolmaster,  ii.  50, 286  —  his  Toxo- 

philus,  i.  448. 
Asellius,  his  discovery  of  the  Lacteals,  iii. 

422. 
Asia,  voyages  to  India,  China,  &c.,  ii.  841, 

342,344. 
Asola,  Andrew  of,  his  edition  of  Galen,  i. 

Asolani,  the,  of  Bembe.  i.  269. 

Assises  de  Jerusalem,  doubts  as  to  the  age 
of  the  French  code,  i.  49. 

Astrology,  Bodin's  opinions  on,  ii.  161. 

Astronomy,  i.  27,  131  —  treatise  of  Coper- 
nicus on  the  heavenly  bodies,  453 ;  ii. 
114;  iii.  59  —  state  of  the  science  of, 
377 —works  of  Kepler,  390,  391  — of 
Tycho  Brahe,  ib. 

Athanasian  Creed,  Jeremy  Taylor  on,  ii. 
427. 

Atheism,  Cudworth's  refutation  of,  iv.  69, 
70. 

Atomic  theory  of  Dalton,  iii.  55. 

Atterbury.  Dr.,  controversy  of,  with  Bent- 
ley,  iv.  18,  and  note. 

Aubigne,  Agrippa  d',  his  Baron  de  Fse- 
neste,  iii.  376. 

Aubrey's  Manuscripts,  iii.  Jl-note  2. 

Augerianus,  criticism  on,  ii.  294. 

Augsburg,  the  Confession  of,  i.  355,  379 ; 
ii.  66,  97  — Library  of,  i.  468. 

Auguis,  Recueil  des  Anciens  Poe'tes  by,  i. 
66;  ii.  212,  213,  notes;  iii.  238,  note. 

Augurellus,  criticism  on,  ii.  294. 

Augustin,  de  Civitate  Dei,  ii  367 — his 
system  of  divinity,  ii.  84  —  the  Anti- 
Pelagian  writings  of,  iv.  34  —  the  Au- 
gustinus of  Jansenius,  ii.  —  doctrine 
of,  iii.  83  —  controversy  on  Grace  and 
Freewill,  ii.  410. 

Augustinus,  Archbishop  of  Tarragona,  ii. 
66. 

Augustinus  on  Civil  Law,  ii.  168, 171. 

Aungerville,  his  library,  i.  124. 

Aunoy,  Comtesse  d',  novels  of,  iv.  311. 

Aurispa,  John,  i.  116,  119. 

Australia,  supposed  delineation  of,  hi  1536, 
i.  464,  note  2. 

Autos,  or  spiritual  dramas,  of  Gil  Vicente, 
i.  266  —  Sacramentales  in  Spain,  ii.  250. 

Avellenada's  invectives  on  Cervantes,  iii. 
363. 

Averani,  the  Florentine,  iv.  240. 

Averrocs,  disciples  of,  i.  41  —  his  doctrines, 
153,  208,  387 ;  ii.  108, 115. 

Avitus,  poems  of,  i.  33,  note. 

Ayala,  Balthazar,  ii.  96  — his  treatise  on 
the  rights  of  war,  176  —  list  of  subjects 
treated  upon,  ib.  note. 
Ayhner,  English  writer,  iii.  354. 
Azo,  pupils  of,  i.  82. 

Kachaumont,  poet,  iv.  220. 
Bacon,  Lord,  his  Henry  VII.  iii.  66,  358  — 
its  philosophical  sp'irit,  432 — his  Es- 


saySj  ii.  133;  iii.  148  — maxims  of,  438 

—  his  philosophy,  32;    iv.  45  —  letter 
to  Father  Fulgeutio,  iii.  32,  note  2  —  on 
the  Advancement  of  Learning,  33,  37, 
38,    43,    67.    69  —  De    Interpretatione 
Naturae,    12,    note  2  —  De  Augmentis 
Scientiarum,  33,  34,  37,  43,  57,  67,  73  — 
his  Instauratio  Magna,  34,  35,  36  — di- 
vided iuto  Partitiones  Scieutiarum,  34 

—  Novum  Organum,  34,  37,  39,  43,  50- 
64,  67,  58,  68,  and  note,  73  — Natural 
History,  35,  66  — Scala  Intellectus,  36- 
Anticipationes  Philosophise,  37 —  Philo 
sophia  Secunda,  ib. — course  of  studying 
his  works,  38  —  nature  of  the  Baconian 
induction,  39  —  his  dislike  of  Aristotle, 
42  —  fine  passage  on  poetry,  44 — natural 
theology  and  metaphysics,  44,  47  —  final 
causes,  46  —  on  the  constitution  of  man 
in  body  and  mind,  47 —  Logic,  Grammar, 
and  Rhetoric,  47,  48 ;  iv.  71  —  Ethics, 
iii.  48  — Politics,  49  — Theology,  60  — 
Fallacies  and  Idola,  51  —  his  confidence, 
64  —  limits  to  our  knowledge  by  sense, 
56  —  inductive  logic,  57,  61  —  his  philo- 
sophy founded  on  observation  and  ex- 
periment, 58 — further  examination  and 
result  of  the  whole,  58-65  —  object  of 
his  philosophical  writings,  39 — and  their 
effect,  65,  note  1 — his  prejudice  against 
mathematics,  69  —  his  wit,  70 — his  fame 
on  the  Continent,  71  —  his  views  on  an 
universal  jurisprudence,  216  —  his  His- 
tory of  Henry  VII.,  66  — his  Centuries 
of  Natural  History,  35  —  his  views  on 
Political  Philosophy,  161  —  comparison 
of,  with  Galileo,  66  — his  style,  358  — 
occasional  references  to  his  opinions  and 
authority,  i.  130 ;  ii.  118,  347,  note;  iii. 
397 ;  iv.  69, 103.  120,  134.  341. 

Bacon,  Roger,  i.  80,  97,  130  — his  Opus 
Majus,  and  inventions,  130  —  his  re- 
semblance to  Lord  Bacon,  ii.  —  Optics 
by,  ii.  321. 

Badius,  Jodocus,  printer,  i.  285. 

Baif,  Lazarus,  French  poet,  i.  285,  338, 
434;  ii.  212,  214,  notes. 

Baillet,  his  opinion  of  Henry  Stephens, 
ii.  24  —  his  Jugemens  des  S^avans, 
iii.  266,  note  ;  iv.  296  —  his  Life  of 
Descartes,  iii.  99,  note  i ;  iv.  77,  note  3, 
286,  note  i. 

Baius,  his  doctrine  condemned  by  Pius  V., 
iv.  34,  36 — controversy  raised  by,  ii. 
82. 

Balbi,  John,  the  Catholicon  of,  i.  99,  and 
note. 

Balbuena,  epic  poem  of,  iii.  230,  note  *. 

BaUle,  Sylvje  of,  iii.  267. 

Baldi,  his  La  Nautica,  ii.  190  —  Sonnets  at 
183. 

Baldric,  Bishop  of  Utrecht,  i.  109. 

Balduin  on  Roman  Law,  ii.  56,  170. 

Baldus,  the  jurisconsult,  i.  86 ;  ii.  179. 

Baldwin  of  Wittenberg,  iii.  143. 


INDEX. 


355 


Ballads,  Spanish,  i.  243 ;  ii.  207  —  German, 

216  — English  and  Scottish,  229.     See 

"  Poetry." 
Balzac,  iii.    71,  note.  * —  his  critique  on 

Heiusius,  266 — on  Konsard,  ii.  211  — 

hia  Letters,  in.  344,  345 — his  style,  iv. 

281,  286. 

Baudeilo,  novels  of,  ii.  303 ;  iii.  332. 
Barbaro,  Francis,  ethical  dialogues  of,  i. 

122. 
Barbarous,  on  the  acceptation  of  the  term, 

i.  43,  note. 

Barbarus,  Hennolaus,  i.  204,  232. 
Barbeyrac,  commentator  on  Grotius  and 

Puffendorf,  ii.  406 ;   iii.  189,  and  note, 

219  ;  iv    166.  169,  note  «,  184. 
Barbier  d'Aucour,   his  attack    on    Bou- 

hours'   Entretiens,    iv.    285  —  on    the 

Turkish  Spy,  315,  note. 
Barbosa,  Arias,  i.  186,  339. 
Barbour,  John,  his  Scottish  poem  of  The 

Bruce,  i.  68. 
Barclay,  the  Argenis  and  Euphormio  of, 

ii.  369  ;  iii.  372,  373. 
Barclay,  William,  De  Regno  et  Regali  Po- 

testate,  ii.  144,  383  ;  iii.  160. 
Baret  or  Barrett,  John,  his  Lexicon,  ii.  50. 
Barham,  Mr.,  translation  of  the  Adamus 

Exul  of  Grotius,  iii.  265,  note  2. 
Bark,  Peruvian,  first  used  as  a  medicine, 

iv.  342. 
Barlaam,  mission  of,  i.  114  —  Treatise  of, 

on  Papacy,  ii.  51. 

Barlaeus,  Gaspar,  Latin  poems  of,  iii.  267. 
Barometer,  Pascal's  experiment  on,  iii.  43, 

note. 

Baronius,  Cardinal,  Annals  of  Ecclesiasti- 
cal History  of,  ii.  16,  100  —  continued 

by  Spondanus,  436. 
Barros,  J.  de,  his  Asia,  ii.  341. 
Barrow,  Dr.  Isaac,  Greek  professor,  iv.  15 

—  Latin  poetry  of,  243  —  his  Sermons, 

34,  40,  59. 
Barthius,  Gaspar,  his  Pornoboscodidasca- 

lus,  i.  268  —  his  Adversaria,  91,  note  2  ; 

ii.  366. 

Bartholin,  the  physician,  iii.  423. 
Bartholomew  Massacre,  justified  by  Bote- 

ro,  ii.  148 ;  and  Naude,  iii.  157. 
Bartoli,  Jesuit,  his  writings,  iii.  340. 
Bartolus,  jurist,  i.  86 ;  ii.  170. 
Basing,  John,  i.  128. 

Basle,  pr«ss  of  Frobenius  at,  i.  276 — Coun- 
cil of,  ii.  94. 

Bastion,  Sebastian,  iii.  21. 
Bathurst  discovers  vital  air,  iv.  340. 
Battle  of  the  Books,  the,  iv.  317. 
Baudius,  Dominic,  ii.  242. 
Bauhin,  John  and  Gaspar,  their  works  on 

botany,  iii.  415. 

Bauhin,  Gerard,  his  Phytopinax,  ii.  334. 
Baxter,  William,  his  commentary  on  the 

Latin  tongue,  iv.  16. 
Baxter,  Richard,  Tieatise  on  the  Grotian 

doctrines,  ii.  398,  note. 


BKLLENDEN. 

Bayard,  le  Chevalier,  memoirs  of,  i.  465. 
Bayle,  his  critical  remarks,  iii.  72,  note  * 

—  his   Philosophical    Commentary    on 
Scripture,  iv.  53  —  Avis  aux  Refugies, 
the,  202  —  his  Nouvelles  de  la  Repub- 
lique  des  Lettres,  293  —  his  Pensees  sur 
la  Comete  de  1680,  295  —  his  Historical 
and  Critical  Dictionary,  ib.  — character 
of  his  works,  296  —  his  Dictionary,  ob- 
servation of,  348. 

Beattie,  Dr.  William,  Essay  on  Truth  of, 

iii.  78,  note. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  plays  of,  iii.  309 

—  the  Woman-hater,  309  and  note  — 
corruption  of    their    text,    310  —  the 
Maid's  Tragedy,  criticism  on,  311  and 
note — Philaster,  312  —  King    and   No 
King,  312  — the  Elder  Brother,  313  — 
the  Spanish  Curate,  314,  821,  note  1  — 
the  Custom  of  the  Country,  315  —  the 
Loyal  Subject,  ib.  —  Beggar's  Bush,  316 

—  the  Scornful  Lady,  ib.  —  Valentinian, 
317  — Two  Noble  Kinsmen,    318  — the 
Faithful  Shepherdess,  261,  309,  319  — 
Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife,  320  —  the 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  320  — 
the  Chances,   ib.  —  various    other    of 
Fletcher's  plays,  ib.  —  origin  of  Fletch- 
er's comedies,  321  —  defects  of  the  plots, 
ib.  324,  note  —  sentiments   and    style, 
dramatic,  322  —  characters,  323  —  their 
tragedies  inferior  to  their  comedies,  324 

—  their  female  portraitures,  ib.  —  criti- 
cisms on,  325,  note 1. 

Beaumont,  Sir  John,  his  Bos  worth  Field, 
iii.  252. 

Beaux'  Stratagem,  play  of,  iv.  275. 

Becanus,  principles  of,  iii.  155; 

Beccari,  Agostini,  pastoral  drama  of,  ii 
246. 

Beccatelli,  i.  119. 

Becker,  his  Physica  Subterranea,  iv.  21. 

Beckmann's  History  of  Inventions,  1. 
255. 

Beda,  his  censure^if  Erasmus,  i.  356. 

Bede,  the  Venerafle,  character  of  his  writ- 
ings, i.  29. 

Beggar's  Bush,  play  of,  iii.  316. 

Bekker,  his  Monde  enchante,  iv.  62. 

Behmen  or  Boehm,  Jacob,  i.  393 ;  iii.  23 

Behn,  writings  of  Mrs.,  iv.  273,  313. 

Belgic  poets,  ii.  242. 

Belief,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  117. 

Bellarmiu,  Cardinal,  a  Jesuit,  ii.  83,  note2, 
92  —  his  merits  as  a  controversial  writer 
of  the  Church  of  Rome,  92,  96;  iv.  24 

—  replies  by  his  adversaries  named  Anti- 
Bellarminus,  ii.  93  —  his    Answer    to 
James  I.,  383. 

Bellay,  French  poet,  ii.  210,  212  —  Latin 

poems  of,  240. 
Belleau,  French  poet,  ii.  1.10. 
Belleforest,  translator  of  Bandello's  novels, 

ii.  304. 
Belleuden,  his  treatise  de  Statu,  iii.  156 


356 


INDEX. 


Bellius,  Martin  (or  Caatalio),  ii.  87. 

Bello,  Francesco,  surnamed  II  Cieco,  poet, 
i.  236. 

Bellori,  Italian  antiquarian  writer,  iv.  20. 

Beloe's  Anecdotes  of  Literature,  ii.  216, 
note  i;  363,  note  ». 

Belon,  Travels  of,  and  Natural  History  by, 
ii.  327,  335. 

Bembo,  Pietro,  i.  319,  327;  ii.  16  — the 
Asolaai  of,  i.  269  —  an  imitator  of  Pe- 
trarch and  Cicero,  411  —  beauties  and 
defects  of,  412  —  Tassoni's  censure  of, 
for  adopting  lines  from  Petrarch,  412  — 
his  elegance,  441,  442 ;  ii.  297  —  Le 
Prose,  by,  i.  444  —  Latin  poems  of,  428, 
466  —  enjoys  his  library,  and  the  society 
of  the  learned  at  Padua,  442 — judicious 
criticisms  of,  444. 

Bcmbus,  ii.  295. 

Benacus,  poems  on  the,  1.  428. 

Benedetti,  the  geometrician,  ii.  319,  322. 

Benedictines,  their  influence  in  the  pre- 
servation of  classical  MSS.,  i.  28,  92  — 
of  St.  Maur,  the  Histoire  Litteraire  de 
la  France,  by  the,  37,  71. 

Benefices,  Sarpi's  Treatise  on,  ii.  384  — 
History  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  385. 

Beni,  his  commentary  on  the  Poetics  of 
Aristotle,  ii.  296 ;  iii.  341. 

Benivieni,  Italian  poet,  i.  237. 

Benserade,  French  court-poet,  iv.  220. 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  iv.  163. 

Bentivoglio,  Cardinal,  his  Letters,  iii.  337 

—  his  Civil  Wars  of  Flanders,  431  — sa- 
tires of,  ii.  191. 

Bentley,  Dr.  Richard,  his  epistle  to  Mill, 
iv.  17 — on  the  epistles  of  Phalaris,  ib. 

—  controversy  with  Atterbury,  ib. 
Benzoni,  Novi  Orbis  Historia  of,  ii.  331. 
Beowulf,  poem  of,  i.  145. 

Berald,  N.,  French  scholar,  i.  285. 

Berchoeur,  learning  of,  i.  112, 134. 

Berenger,  controversy  with,  i.  36. 

Berenger  of  Carpi,  his  fame  as  an  anato- 
mist, i.  456;  iii.  416,  418,  note. 

Berenice,  tragedy  of,  b#  Racine,  iv.  248. 

Bergerac,  Cyrano  de,  his  Le  Pedant 
Joue,  iii.  288,  375  — his  Romances,  iv. 
310. 

Berigard,  Claude,  his  Circuit  Pisani,  iii. 
21. 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  works  of,  iii.  78 ;  iv.  124, 
130. 

liormudez,  tragedies  of,  ii.  255. 

Berni,  his  Orlando  Innamorato,  i.  309, 365 

—  his  lighter  productions,  character  of, 
tt>.  —  Boiardo's  poem  of  Orlando,   re- 
written by,  414,  416  —  ludicrous  poetry 
named  after  him,  Poesia  Bernesca,  414. 

Bemier's  epitome  of  Oassendi,  iv.  77, 125. 

Bernier's  travels,  iv.  346. 

Bernouilli,  John,  on  the  Differential  Cal- 
culus, iv.  341. 

veroaldo,  librarian  of  the  Vatican,  i.  272, 
466. 


BLOMFIELD. 

Berquin.  Lewis,  first  martyr  to  Protestant* 
ism  in  France,  i.  360,  note  l. 

Berthold,  Archbishop  of  Meutz,  censor  on 
books,  i.  257. 

Bertoldo.  romance  of,  iii.  226,  note. 

Bessarion,  Cardinal,  his  Adversus  Calum- 
niatorem  Platonis,  i.  163. 

Bethune,  Mr.  I>rinkwater,  his  Life  of  Gall 
leo,  iii.  395,  note. 

Betterton,  the  actor,  iv.  266. 

Beza  de  Hiereticis  Puniendis,  ii.  88  —  his 
Latin  Testament,  104  —  Latin  poetry  of, 
240  — his  learning,  99,  note  ». 

Bibbiena,  Cardinal,  his  comedy  of  Calan- 
dra,  i.  267. 

Bible,  Mazarin,  the  first  printed  book,  the, 
i.  167  — Hebrew,  iii.  425,  426  — in  mo- 
dern languages  prohibited  by  the  pope, 
and  burnt,  ii.  354  — the  Polyglot  Bible 
of  Alcatt,  i.  319  — Douay,  ii.  446— the 
Sistine  Bible,  103  — that  by  Clement 
VIII.,  ib.  —  Protestant  Bibles  and  Tes- 
taments, ib.  —  Geneva  Bible,  Coverdale'ii 
Bible.  104— the  Bishops'  Bible,  it,  — 
Luther's  translations,  i.  361  —  English 
Bible,  translated  under  the  authority 
of  James  I.,  ii.  445  —  style  of,  ib.  See 
"Scriptures." 

Bibliander,  New  Testament  of,  i.  382. 

Bibliographical  works,  ii.  353. 

Bibliotheca,  Sussexiana,  i.  167,  note  *. 

Bibliotueca    Universalis    of    Gesner,    ii. 

a53. 

Bibliotheca  Fratrum  Polonarum,  ii.  416. 

Bibliotneque  Universelle  of  Le  Clerc,  iv. 
39. 

Bibliotheques,  Universelle,  Choisie,  et  An- 
cienne  et  Moderne,  celebrity  of  these 
reviews,  iv.  39. 

Bibliotheques  Franchises  of  La  Croix  and 
of  Verdier,  ii.  301,  353. 

Biddle,  Unitarian  writer,  iv.  42. 

Bills  of  exchange,  earliest,  i.  72,  note  *. 

Bilson,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  ii.  147, 
note. 

Biographia  Britannica  lateraria,  i.  29, 
note  2. 

Biographie  Universelle,  the,  ii.  286,  note, 
et  passim. 

Biondo,  Flavio,  i.  182. 

Blackmore's  poeins,  iv.  239. 

Blackwood's  Magazine,  papers  on  th« 
Faery  Queen,  ii.  232,  note  i. 

Bladus,  printer  at  Rome,  i.  332. 

Blaew.  Maps  of,  &c.,  iii.  431. 

Blanchet,  Pierre,  i.  226. 

Blank  verse,  first  introduction  of,  i.  424 ; 
ii.  219— Milton's,  iv.  229  —  if  Mar- 
lowe, ii.  264  — of  other  authors,  268. 

Blomfield,  Dr.  Charles,  Bishop  of  Lon 
don,  on  the  corruption  of  the  Greek 
language,  i.  113,  note  ' — article  in  the 
Quarterly  Review,  334,  note  '  —  articla 
on  JSschylus  in  the  Edinburgh  Review. 
Iv.  16. 


IXDEX. 


357 


Blondel,  controversialist,  ii.  415,  435. 

Blood,  circulation  of  the,  ii.  336  ;  iii.  417, 
422;  iv.  339  —  passage  in  Servetus  on, 
i.  458  —  supposed  to  hare  been  disco- 
vered by  Sarpi,  ii.  384,  note  ». 

Blood,  transfusion  of,  iv.  339. 

Boccaccio,  criticism  on  his  taste  and  Latin 
works,  i.  101,  441  — his  Eclogues,  102  — 
his  Novels,  ii.  303  —  his  lienealogise 
Deorum,  62  — his  Decamerone,  i.  441 — 
his  de  Casibus  Yirorum  Ulustrium,  ii. 
217- 

Boecalini,  Trajan,  iii.  337  —  his  Raggnagli 
di  Parnasso.  ib.  436  —  his  Pietra  del 
Paragone,  338. 

Boo  hart,  the  Geographia  Sacra  of.  iii.  427 

—  his  Hierozoicon.  ib.  —  his  works  on 
Hebrew,  &c.,  iv.  343. 

Bodin,  John,  writings  of,  ii.  102 :  iii.  156, 
161, 355 — analysis  of  his  treatise  of  The 
Republic,  ii.  150-164  —  comparison  of, 
with  Machiavel  and  Aristotle,  166  — 
with  Montesquieu,  ib.  See  167.  note. 

Bodius  (or  Boyd),  Alexander,  ii.  242. 

Bodley,  Sir  Thomas,  founder  of  the  Bod- 
leian Library  at  Oxford,  ii.  343 :  iii.  433 

—  its  catalogue,  435  —  its  Oriental  ma- 
nuscripts, 428. 

Boerhaave,  works  of,  iv.  341. 

Boetie.  Stephen  de  la,  Le  ContrUn  of,  ii. 
136, 137. 

Boethius,  character  and  death  of,  i.  26 — 
his  Consolation  of  Philosophy,  ii.  — 
poem  on.  47. 

Boiardo,  Matteo  Maria,  Count  of  Scan- 
diano,  i.  174.  234  —  his  Orlando  Inna- 
morato  reviewed,  235.  310,  311. 

Boileau,  satire  of.  iii.  371.  372  :  iv.  217  — 
praises  Malherbe,  iii.  237  —  his  Epistles, 
iv.  217  — Art  of  Poetry,  218  — compa- 
rison with  Horace.  219  —  his  Lutrin,  iii. 
226,  note;  iv.  218,  219  —  character  of 
his  poetry,  219,  308— his  Longinus, 

Bois,  or  Boyse,  Mr.,  reviser  of  the  English 

translation  of  the  Bible,  ii.  48. 
Boisrobert.  French  academician,  iii.  348. 
Bologna,  Univerrity  of.  i.  38, 39,  note  *,  42 ; 

ii.  346  — painters,  198. 
Botnbelli,  Algebra  of,  ii.  316. 
Bon,    Professor   of   Civil    Law,  IT.   208, 

note  *. 
Bonarelli,   his  Filli  di  Sciro,  a  pastoral 

drama,  iii.  272. 

Bonamy,  literary  essays  of,  i.  42. 
Bouaventura,  doctrines  of.  i.  151. 
Bond,  John,  his  notes  on  Horace,  ii. 

3>;7. 

Bonfadio,  correspondence  of,  ii.  282. 

Bonnefons,  or  Bonifonius,  ii.  241. 

Books,  the  earliest  printed,  i.  164-167  — 
price  of.  in  the  middle  ages.  122  and 
ncte  1  —  number  of,  printed  in  the  fif- 
temth  century,  180. 249. 276  —  price  of. 
after  the  invention  of  printing,  253  — 


BOUBGEOI8. 

price  for  the  hire  of,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  256 — restraints  on  the  sale  of 
printed,  257  —  prohibition  of  certain, 
ii.  364— book-fairs,  349,  352  —  book- 
sellers' catalogues,  352  —  bookselling 
trade,  i.  251  —  mutilation  of,  by  the 
visitors  of  Oxford,  temp.  Edward  -VI., 
ii.  47,  note.  See  ''  Printing." 

Bordone's  Islands  of  the  World,  with 
Charts,  i.  464. 

Borelli,  de  Motu  Animalium,  iv.  340. 

Borghino,  Kaflaelle,  treatise  on  Painting 
by,  ii.  282. 

Borgia,  Francis,  Duke  of  Gandia,  i.  370. 

Borgo,  Luca  di,  ii.  313. 

Boscan,  Spanish  poetry  of,  i.  416 ;  ii.  202 ; 
iii.  229. 

Bosco,  John  de  Sacro,  his  Treatise  on  the 
Sphere,  i.  128. 

Bossu  on  Epic  Poetry,  iv.  288. 

Bossuet,  Bishop  of  Meaux,  ii.  14,  423; 
iv.  44,  55  —  the  Histoire  Universelle  of, 
22,  347  —  his  Sermon  before  the  Assem- 
bly of  the  Gailicau  Clergy,  25  —  draws 
up  the  Four  Articles,  ii.  —  his  Exposi- 
tion de  la  Foi  Catholique,  .29  —  contro- 
versial writings  of,  30  and  notes  —  hia 
Variations  of  the  Protestant  Churches, 
32 —  funeral  discourses  of,  iv.  56,  277. 

Botal  of  Asti,  pupil  of  Fallopim,  ii. 
337. 

Botanical  gardens  instituted  at  Naples, 
Marburg,  Pisa,  and  at  Padua,  i.  459, 
460  — Montpellier,  ii.  330  —  Chelsea,  iv. 
335. 

Botany,  science  of,  i.  459 ;  ii.  330,  331  — 
poems  of  Rapin  and  Delille  on  gardens, 
iv.  242.  243  —  writers  OB.  i.  459. 460 :  ii. 
330,  331 ;  iii.  415,  441 ;  iv.  329-333— 
medical,  i.  273,  note  '. 

Botero.  Giovanni,  his  Ragione  di  State,  ii. 
148  — his  Cosmography,  344  — on  Poli- 
tical Economy,  iii.  161. 

Boucher,  De  jusU  Henrici  HI.  Abdica- 
tione,  ii.  144. 

Bouchetel.  his  translation  of  the  Hecuba 
of  Euripides,  i.  434. 

Bouhours,  critic  and  jrrammarian,  iii.  236 
—  hi*  Entretiens  d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene, 
iv.  284  —  sarcasms  of.  ii. — his  La  Ma- 
niere  de  bien  Penser,  286. 

Bouillaud,  the  Italian  astronomer,  iii. 
396. 

Bourbon,  Anthony,  original  of  Pantagruel, 
i.  440. 

Bourbon,  or  Borbonius,  Latin  poem  of,  iii 
264. 

Bourdaloue,  le  Pere,  style  of  his  sermons, 
iv.  55. 

Bourdin,  the  Jesuit,  objections  by,  to  th« 
Meditations  of  Descartes,  iii.  82. 

Bourgeoise,  Jacques,  dramatic  writer,  i. 
434. 

Bourgeois  Gentilhomme  of  Moliere,  a  di- 
verting moral  satire,  iv.  £60 


358 


INDEX. 


BOTTHSAUI/r. 

Boursanlt,  his  Le  Mercure  Galant,  iv.  263 
Bouterwek,  criticisms  of.  i.  135,  266;  U. 

191,  note  i,  200.  202,  207,  note  s    250, 

253,  299 ;  iii.  231,  239,  241,  note,  278, 

364,  367,  et  passim. 

Bowles,  on  the  Sonnets  of,  iii.  267,  note  ». 
Boyle,  Charles,  his  controversy  with  Bent- 
ley,  iv.  17. 
Boyle,  Robert,  metaphysical  works  of,  iy. 

322  —  extract  from,  ib. —  his  merits  in 

physics  and  chemistry,  323  —  his  gene- 
ral character,  ib. 
Bradshaw,  William,  literary  reputation  of, 

iv.  316,  note. 
Bradwardin,  Archbishop,  on  Geometry,  i. 

89,  note  2, 131. 

Brain,  anatomy  of  the,  works  on,  iv.  339. 
Bramhall,  Archbishop,  ii.  398,  note. 
Brandt's  History  of  the  Reformation  in 

the  Low  Countries,  i.  369,  note  «:  ii. 

413. 
Brazil,    Natural   History,    &c.,   of,    iii. 

411. 

Breboeuf,  his  Pharsalie.  iv.  222. 
Brentins.  his  controversy  on  the  ubiquity 

of  Christ's  body,  ii.  81. 
Breton,  English  poet,  ii.  221  —  Mavilla  of, 

309,  note  i. 

Breton  lays,  discussion  on,  i.  57. 
Brief  Conceit  of  English  Policy,  ii.  291 ; 

iii.  162. 
Briggs,  Henry,  mathematician,  iii.  380 — 

Arithmetica  Logarithmica  of.  385. 
Brisson  on  Roman  Law,  ii.  56. 171. 
Britannia's  Pastorals  of  William  Browne, 

iii.  251. 

British  Bibliographer,  ii.  216,  291. 
Brito,  Gnlielmus,  poetry  of,  i.  94. 
Broken  Heart,  the,  Ford's  play  of,  iii. 

330. 
Brooke,    Lord,  style  of  his  poetry,   iii. 

246. 

Broughton,  Hugh,  ii.  92,  340. 
Brouncker,  Lord,  first  president  of  Royal 

Society,  iv.  320. 
Brown,  Mr.  George  Armitage,  Shakspeare's 

Autobiographical   Poems  by,  iii.  254, 

note  1 ;  255,  note  2. 
Brown.  Dr.  Thomas,  iii.  52. 
Brown's  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind, 

iv.  95  and  note  *. 
Browne.  Sir  Thomas,  his  Religio  Medici, 

iii.     151  —  his    Hydrotaphia,     152  — 

Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Errors,  439 ;   iv. 

335. 
Browne's,  William,  Britannia's  Pastorals, 

iii.  251. 
Bruoioli,  the  Venetian  publisher,  i.  866, 

381. 
Brueker,   his  History  of  Philosophy  and 

Analysis,  i.  27,  note;  ii.  105,  106,  108. 

110,  111,  114 ;  iii.  13. 
Brueys,  French  dramatic  author,  iv.  264. 
Brunfels,  Otto,  the  Uerbarnm  vivee  Eico- 

nes  of,  i.  459. 


BUEN'KY. 

Bruno,  Jordano,  theories  of,  1.  109,  321: 
ii.  110,  111 ;  iii.  13,  20,  401 ;  iv.  105  — 
his  philosophical  works,  ii.  Ill,  112, 
114,  115  —  his  pantheism,  319  —  on  the 
plurality  of  worlds,  114 — sonnets  by, 
114,  note;  283  —  various  writings  of, 
ib. 

Brutes,  Fabricius  on  the  language  of,  iii 
413. 

Bruyere,  La,  Caracteres  de,  iv.  174. 

Brydges,  Sir  Egerton,  British  Bibliogra- 
pher, Restituta,  and  Censura  Literaria 
of,  ii.  216,  291. 

Bucer,  works  of,  circulated  in  a  fictitious 
name,  i.  365. 

Buchanan,  his  Scottish  History,  ii.  41. 
346  — De  Jure  Regni,  64,  138,  142;  iii. 
165  ;  iv.  202  — his  Latin  poetry,  ii.  242 ; 
iii.  265  — his  Psalms,  268. 

Buckhurst,  Lord  (Thomas  Sackville),  his 
Induction  to  the  Mirrour  of  Magistrates, 
ii.  217,  218,  262. 

Buckinck,  Arnold,  engraver,  i.  200. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  the  Rehearsal  of, 
iv.302. 

Buda,  royal  library,  i.  176. 

Budaeus,  works  of,  i.  239. 285, 286, 333, 355 ; 
ii.  46 — the  Commentarii  Linguae  Grae- 
cse,  i.  333,  334  — his  early  studies,  239 
—  his  Observations  on  the  Pandects, 
266,  408. 

Buffon  the  naturalist,  ii.  329. 

Buhle  on  Aristotle,  i.  384  —  on  the  logic 
of,  386  —  Ramus,  389  —  on  the  philoso- 
phy of  Cesalpin,  ii.  108, 109  —  Commen- 
taries of,  on  the  works  of  Bruno,  110, 
114  —  remarks  by.  iv.  73. 

Bulgarini  on  Dante,  ii.  298. 

Bull,  Nelson's  Life  of,  iv.  41,  note  »  —his 
Harmonia  Apostolica,  ib.  —  his  Defensic 
Fidei  Nicenas,  29. 

Bullinger,  theological  writings  of,  ii.  99. 

Bunel,  Peter,  epistles  of,  i.  329,  note. 

Hum  an.  John,  his  Pilgrim's  Progress,  1. 
315 ;  iv.  313. 

Buonarotti,  Michael  Angelo,  iv.  130, 
note. 

Buonmattei,  his  Grammar  Delia  Lingua 
Toscana.  iii.  340. 

Burbage  the  player,  iii.  291,  note. 

Burgersdicius,  logician,  iii.  16 ;  iv.  64. 

Burke,  Edmund,  compared  with  Lord  Ba- 
con, iii.  titi. 

Burlciffh.  Lord,  refuses  to  sanction  the 
Lambeth  Articles  of  Whitgift,  ii.  412. 

Burlesque-poetry  writers,  ii.  191. 

Burman,  quotations  from,  ii.  376. 

Burnet,  Bishop,  his  History  of  his  Own 
Times,  iv.  41 — his  History  of  the  Re- 
formation, 347  —  his  translation  of  th« 
Utopia,  i.  283. 

Bnrnet,  Thomas,  his  Arcbaeologia  Philoso- 
phica,  iv.  46  — Theory  of  the  Earth  by, 
336. 

Burney's  History  of  Music,  i.  221,  note  i. 


INDEX. 


359 


Burton's    Anatomy    of  Melancholy,    iii. 

360. 
Bury,  Richard  of,  i.  75,  note  1  —  library 

and  Philobiblon  of,  97,  111. 
Busbequius,  iii.  357,  note. 
Busenbaum,  his  Medulla  Casuum  Con- 

scientise,  iii.  137. 
Bussy  d'Anibois,  play  of   Chapman,  iii. 

333. 
Butler,   Hudibras  of,  iv.  223  —  satirical 

poetry  of,  234. 

Butler's  Analogy,  iv.  160  and  note. 
Buxtorf,  the  elder,  Hebraist,  iii.  425. 
Buxtorf.  the  son,  his  controversy  on  the 

text  of  Scripture,  iii.  425. 
Byzantine  literature,  i.  113. 

Cabala,  the  Jewish,  i.  212. 

Cabot,  Sebastian,  i.  464;  ii.  342. 

Cadamosto,  the  Venetian,  his  voyages  of 
discovery,  i.  271. 

Caelius  Rhodiginus,  ii.  20. 

Cassalpin,  botanical  writer,  ii.  333;  iii. 
415 ;  iv.  329  —  his  Qussstiones  Peripa- 
teticae,  iii.  419,  note. 

Caesarius,  Homilies  of,  i.  33,  note. 

Caius,  Roman  presbyter,  i.  35,  note. 

Caius,  Dr.,  on  British  Dogs,  ii.  329. 

Caius,  fragment  of,  on  the  Canon  of  the 
New  Testament,  i.  35,  note. 

Cajetan,  controversialist,  ii.  76. 

Calderino,  i.  187. 

Calderon  de  la  Barca,  Pedro,  tragi-come- 
dies  of,  iii.  273  —  number  of  his  pieces, 
274  —  comedies  of,  275  —  his  La  Vida  es 
Sueno,  276  —  his  A  Secreto  Agravio  se- 
creta  Venganya,  278  —  his  style,  ib. — 
his  merit  discussed,  279  —  the  school  of, 
iv.  244. 

Calendar,  the  Gregorian,  ii.  64,  320. 

Calepio,  Latin  Dictionary  of,  i.  262,  336  ; 
ii.  37. 

Calisto  and  Meliboea,  Spanish  play,  i.  267 
—  its  great  reputation,  268. 

Calixtus,  George,  exertions  of,  for  religious 
concord,  ii.  401^404  and  notes. 

Callimachus,  Mad.  Daciers  translation  of, 
iv.  13. 

Callistus,  Andronicus,  a  teacher  of  Greek. 
i.  162. 

Calprenide,  his  Cassandra,  iii.  370  —  his 
Cleopatra,  -16. 

Calvin,  John,  born  in  Picardy,  i.  363  — 
character  of  his  institutions,  ib. ;  ii.  91, 
99;  iv.  41  —  their  great  reputation,  i. 
874  —  exposition  of  his  doctrine,  363  — 
received  as  a  legislator  at  Geneva,  ih.  — 
his  political  opinions,  407  —  his  contro- 
versy with  Cassander,  ii.  79  —  death  of 
Servetus  instigated  and  defended  by, 
84,  85,  424  — their  doctrines,  400,  402, 
412;  iv.  29,  41  — Crypto-Calvinists,  ii. 
82  —  hostility  and  intolerance  between 
the  Calvinistic  and  Lutheran  churches, 
79,392. 


CARDAN. 

Calvisius,  Seth,  Chronology  of,  ii.  379. 

Camaldulenses  Annales,  i.  200  and  note  3. 

Cambrensis,  Giraldus,  remarks  on  Oxford 
University  by,  i.  39. 

Cambridge,  University  of,  i.  39,  294,  note, 
345,  436;  ii.  47,  48,  and  note  i,  339  — 
state  of  learning  in,  47,  48  —  the  Uni- 
versity Library,  348 ;  iii.  435  —  Ascham's 
character  of,  i.  345  —  the  press,  ii. 
51. 

Camden,  iii.  306  —  his  Greek  Grammar,  ii. 
52  — his  Britannia,  54  — his  Life  of  Eli- 
zabeth, iii.  432. 

Camera  Obscura  of  Baptista  Porta,  ii. 
321. 

Camerarius,  German  scholar,  i.  218,  264, 
340.  341  — Academy  of,  468  — his  Com- 
mentaries, ii.  30  —  a  restorer  of  ancient 
learning.  46  —  on  botany,  iii.  415;  ir 
334. 

Cameron,  a  French  divine,  ii.  415. 

Camoens,  the  Lusiad  of,  ii.  204  —  its  de- 
fects, ib. — its  excellences,  ib  — minor 
poems  of,  206  —  remarks  of  Southey, 
205,  note. 

Campanella,  Thomas,  ii.  109;  iii.  397  — 
his  Politics,  157  —  his  City  of  the  Sun, 
373  —  analysis  of  his  philosophy,  16- 
21. 

Campano,  his  Life  of  Braccio  di  Montone, 
i.  328,  note. 

Campanus,  version  of  Euclid  by,  i.  129. 

Campbell,  Mr.  Thomas,  remarks  of,  ii.  218, 
222,  note  i,  227,  237,  note,  266 ;  iii.  256, 
note. 

Campeggio,  Italian  dramatist,  iii.  272. 

Campion,  English  poet,  ii.  228. 

Campistron,  tragedies  by,  iv.  256. 

Canini,  Syriac  Grammar  of,  ii.  337. 

Caniuius,  Angelus,  ii.  17  —  his  Hellenic- 
mus.  28 ;  iv.  12. 

Cantacuzenus,  Emperor,  i.  114. 

Canter,  Theodore,  the  Varise  Lectiones  of, 
ii.  31. 

Canter,  William,  his  versions  of  Aristidea 
and  Euripides,  ii.  21  —  his  Novae  I/ec- 
tiones,  30,  31. 

Canus,  Melchior,  his  Loci  Theologici,  ii. 
98. 

Capella,  Martianus,  Encyclopaedia  of,  i. 
26. 

Capellari,  the  Latin  poet  of  Italy,  ir. 
240. 

Capito,  German  scholar,  i.  302. 

Cappel,  Louis,  his  Arcanum  Punctuationis 
revelatum,  iii.  426  —  Critica  Sacra  of, 
427. 

Caraccio,  his  drama  of  Corradino,  iv. 
244. 

Carate,  the  Spanish  author,  on  Botany,  ii. 
331. 

Cardan,  Jerome,  writer  on  algebra,  i.  394 
and  note,  449-452  —  his  rule  for  cubic 
equations,  449;  ii.  311,  313;  iii  321- 
on  mechanics,  ii.  385. 


360 


INDEX. 


OABDS. 

Cards,  playing,  Invention  of,  1. 164. 
Carew,  Thomas,  merit  of  his  poetry,  iii. 

267 ;  iv.  223. 
Carew.  Richard,  his  translation  of  Tasso, 

ii.  227. 
Carion's  Chronicle,  by  Melanchthon,  i. 

465. 

Carlostadt,  religious  tenets  of,  ii.  35. 
Carlovingian  kings,  charters  by   the,  i. 

76. 
Caro,  Annibal,  correspondence  of,  ii.  282 

—  sonnets  of,  183 — translation  of  the 
.Slneid  by,  192  —  his  dispute  with  Cas- 
telvetro.  296. 

iarreri,  Gemelli.  his  Travels  round  the 
World,  iv.  345. 

Cartesian  philosophy,  summary  of  the,  iii. 
76-101,  398;  iv.  71,  127,  137.  See 
"  Descartes." 

Carthusians,  learning  of  the,  i.  92. 

Cartoblacas,  Andronicus,  i.  194. 

Cartwright,  his  Platform,  ii.  55. 

Cartwright,  William,  on  Shakspeare,  cou- 
plet by,  iii.  305,  note  1. 

Casa,  Italian  poet,  ii.  132,  182,  192, 
281. 

Casanuova,  i.  466. 

Casaubon,  Isaac,  the  eminent  scholar,  ii. 
44,  45,  359 ;  iv.  16  — a  light  of  the  lite- 
rary world,  ii.  46  —  correspondence  with 
Sca'liger,  27.  note  <,  60,  note  2,  392  — 
attack  on  Bellarmin  by,  92,  note  2. 

Casaubon,  Meric,  ii.  364,  note  ',  394,  note 

—  his  account  of  Oxford  University,  iii. 
434  —  on  the  classics,  iv.  16. 

Casimir,  lyric  poetry  of,  iii.  265,  note.  See 

"  Sarbievus." 
Casiri,  Catalogue  of  Arabic  MSS.  by,  i. 

77. 
Casks,  Kepler's  treatise  on  the  capacity  of, 

iii.  381. 
Cassander,  George,  his  Consultation  on  the 

Confession  of  Augsburg,  ii.    79  —  his 

controversy  with  Calvin,  ib.  —  Grotius's 

Annotations,  399. 
Cassini,   the  gnomon  of,   at   Bologna,  i. 

198. 
Cassiodorus,    character    of    his    works, 

i.    26  —  his     De    Orthographia,    44, 

note. 
Castalio,  Sebastian,  reply  of.  to  Calvin,  ii. 

87,  412,  424  —  Beza's  reply  to  Castalio, 

88  —  scriptural  version  by,  103  —  Ver- 
sion of  the  German  Theology  by,  i.  151 ; 

iii.  22. 

Castalio,  antiquary,  ii.  60. 
Caatanheda,   description    of  Asia  by,  ii. 

341. 
Castell,  Edmund,  his  Lexicon  Heptaglot- 

ton,  iv.  842. 
CaRtellio,    his  work  on    Hydraulics,  iii. 

404. 
Castelvetro.  criticisms  of,  i.  310 ;  ii.  295, 

296  —  his   commentary  on  Aristotle's 

Poetics,  296. 


Castiglrone,  Cortegiano  of,  i.  395  —  Latin 

poetry  of,  428 ;  ii.  294,-&56. 
Castilian  poets,  i.  242;  ii.  202. 
Castillejo,  Spanish  poet,  ii.  202 
Castillo,  i.  138. 
Casuistry,  and  its  difficulties,  iii.  132. 134, 

136, 137  — of  the  Jesuists,  135;  iv.  146 

—  Taylor's  work  on,  148  —  Casuistical 

writers,  iii.  131-136. 
Catalogues  of  new  books  first  published, 

ii.  352,  note  —  of  libraries,  iii.  435. 
Caterus,  his  objections  to  Descartes,  iii.  82. 
Catharin,  theologian,  tenets  of,  i.  374 ;  ii. 

98. 

Cathay  of  Marco  Polo  (China),  ii.  342. 
Catholicon  of  Balbi,  in  1460,  i.  99  and 

note. 

Catholics,  their  writers,  ii.  98,  103  —  Eng- 
lish  Catholics,   104— Catholic   Bibles, 

103.    See  "  Rome." 
Cats,  popular  Dutch  poet,  iii.  242. 
Catullus,  edition  of,  by  Isaac  Vossius,  iy. 

10. 
Cavalieri,  mathematician  of  Bologna,  iii. 

383  —  his  geometry,  ib. 
Cave  on  the  Dark  Ages,  i.  28,  note. 
Caxton,  printed  bgoks  of,  i.  173,  174. 
Cecchini,  celebrated  harlequin,  iii.  274. 
Cecil,  Lady,  ii.  53. 

Celio  Magno,  Odes  of,  ii.  184 ;  iv.  213. 
Celso,  Mino,   d«  Haereticis,   &c.,  ii.   89, 

424. 
Celtes,  Conrad,  i.  218  — dramas  of,  220  — 

academies  established  by,  468. 
Celticus  senno,  the  patois  of  Gaul,  i.  43 

and  note. 
Centuriatores,  or  the  church  historians, 

who  termed,  ii.  99  —  of  Magdeburg,  81, 

99. 
Century,   fifteenth,    events   and   literary 

acquisitions  of,  i.  247-249. 
Cephalueus,  Greek  Testament  of,  i.  379. 
Cerisantes,  Latin  poems  of,  iii.  265. 
Cervantes,  reputation  of  his  Don  Quix- 
ote,  iii.  363  —  German  criticism  as  to 

his  design,  ib.  —  observations   on   the 

author,  366,  367  —  excellence    of   the 

romance,  368  —  his  minor  novels,  ib. ; 

ii.   300  —  his  dramatic  pieces,  hi.-   Nu- 

manria,  255-257 — invectives   on,  by 

Avellenada,    iii.     363  —  criticism    by. 

371. 
Cesalpin,  Qusestiones  Peripateticae,  ii.  108, 

110. 

Cesarini,  merit  of,  iii.  265. 
Cesi,  Prince  Frederic,  founds  the  Llncean 

Society  at  Home,  iii.  395,  437. 
Ceva,  his  Latin  poems,  iv.  240. 
ChaJcondyles  arrives  from  Constantinople 

in  Italy,  i.  162. 
Chaldee,  the  language  and  Scriptures,  i. 

319 ;  ii.  337  ;  iii.  425,  427. 
Chaloner,  Sir  Thomas,  his  poem  De  Re- 

publica  InstaurandS,  ii.  243  —  characte* 

of  his  poetry,  302. 


INDEX. 


361 


CHAMPEAUX 

Champeaux,  William  of,  i.  37. 
Champmele,  Mademoiselle  de,  iv.  246. 
Chancellor,  his  voyage  to  the  North  Sea, 

il.  342. 
Chapelain,  French  poet,  iii.  348  —  his  La 

Pucelle,  iv.  222. 

Chapelle,  or  1'Huillier,  poet,  iv.  220. 
Chapman,  dramas  of.  iii.  333  —  his  Homer, 

ii.  226  ;  iii.  333. 
Charlemagne,   cathedral  and  conventual 

schools  established  by,  i.  28,  30,  35, 

38. 

Charlemagne,  fabulous  voyage  of,  to  Con- 
stantinople, metrical  romance  on,  i.  50, 

note  2. 
Charles  I.  of  England,  ii.  388, 444 ;  iii.  104, 

292,  331,  364,  359. 
Charles  II.,  education  and  literature  in  his 

reign,  iv.  15,60  —  poetry, 238 — comedy, 

272. 

Charles  V.,  the  Emperor,  ii.  199. 
Charles  IX.  of  France,  ii.  210. 
Charles  the  Bald,  i.  25,  30,  46,  47,  note  ». 
Charleton,  Dr.,  his  translation  of  Gassendi, 

iv.  125. 

Chardin,  Voyages  of,  iv.  346. 
Charron.  Peter,  treatise  Des  Trois  V6rites, 

&c.,  by,  ii.  101  — On  Wisdom,  442:  iii. 

146. 
Charters,  anciently  written  on  papyrus  and 

on  parchment,  i.  76,  77. 
Chaucer,  remarks  on  the  poetry  of,  i.  68, 

141,  424 ;  ii.  217. 
Chaulieu,  poems  of,  iv.  220. 

Cheke,  Sir  John,  i.  337  —  Greek  professor 
at  Cambridge,  344,  345  —  his  Reforma- 
tio  I/eguin  Ecclesiasticarum,  ii.  42. 

Chemistry,  science  of,  iv.  320,  323. 

Chemnitz,  the  Loci  Theologici  of,  ii.  98, 
99. 

Chevalier,  Hebrew  professor,  ii.  338. 

Chevy  Chase,  poem  of,  its  probable  date.  i. 

142,  note  i  —  its  effect  upon  Sir  P.  Sid- 
ney, ii.  264. 

Chiabrera,  Italian  poet,  ii.  184 ;   iii.  226, 

267 ;  iv.  211  —  his  imitators,  iii.  228. 
Chitiet,  the  Jesuit,  the  first  reviewer,  iv. 

292. 

Child,  Sir  Josiah,  on  Trade,  iv.  204. 
Chillingworth,  Religion  of  Protestants  by, 

ii.  406-410. 

Chimpanzee  of  Angola,  iii.  412  and  note. 
China,  stereotype-printing  known  in,    i. 

165  —  missionaries  to,  ii.  342  ;  iii.  429  — 

history  of,  ii.  342  —  Kircher's  andNieu- 

hoff  's  account  of,  iv.  344,  346  —  Voyages 

in,  ii.  344. 
Chinese    language  and  manuscripts,   iii. 

429. 
Chivalry,  its  effects  on  poetry,  i.  143-146 

—  romances  of,  146,  438  ;  ii.  304. 
Chocolate,  poem  on,  by  Strozzi,  iv.  240. 
Christianity,  prevalence  of  disbelief  in,  iv. 

46  — vindications  of,  51. 
Ohristiad,  the,  of  Vida,  i.  428. 


CLEMENT  VIII. 

Christina  of  Sweden,  iii.  W) ;  iv.  212. 

Christine  of  Pisa,  a  lady  of  literary  accom- 
plishments in  the  court  of  Charles  V. 
of  France,  i.  113 ;  iv.  215. 

Christopherson,  his  Jephthah,  i.  436,  487. 

Chronology,  Joseph  Scaliger's  de  Emenda- 
tione  Temporum,  ii.  63  —  his  Julian 
Period,  64  —  Archbishop  Usher's,  ir. 
21  —  the  Hebrew  chronology,  22  —  wri- 
ters on,  ii.  379-381 ;  iv.  22,  23.. 

Chrysoloras,  Emanuel,  i.  112,  115. 

Chrysostom,  Savile's  edition  of,  ii.  368, 
note  2. 

Church,  influence  of,  upon  learning,  i:  29. 

Churchyard,  writings  of.  ii.  218. 

Ciaconius,  Alfonsus,  ii.  60. 

Ciaconius  (or  Chacon),  Peter,  De  Triclinio 
Romano,  ii.  60. 

Ciampoli,  the  Rime  of.  iii.  228. 

Gibber,  his  plays,  iv.  276,  noie. 

Cicero,  Isidore's  opinion  of,  i.  27 — Ora- 
tions of,  discovered  by  Poggio,  103  — 
his  style  a  criterion  of  language,  105, 
331  — argument  by,  237  —  editions  of, 
172, 330 ;  ii.  20  and  note  —  his  Orations 
elucidated  by  Sigonius,  58 — his  Epis- 
tles, 283 ;  iv.  10. 

Ciceronian  literature,  i.  330. 

Ciceronianus  of  Erasmus,  i.  329. 

Ciceronis  Consul,  &c.,  by  Bellenden,  iii 
156. 

Cid,  the,  ancient  Spanish  poem,  i.  62  — 
ascribed  to  Pedro  Abad,  135  and  note  * 

—  Corneille's  poem  of,  iii.  282,  285  — 
critique  on,  349  —  romances   of   the, 
229. 

Cimento,  Academy  del,  iv.  318. 
Cinthio,  Giraldi,  his  tragedy  of  the  Orbec- 
che,  i.  431  — his  Hundred  Tales,  ii.  303 

—  invention  of,  245. 
Circumnavigators,  account  of,  ii.  341 
Ciriacus  of  Ancona,  i.  182. 
Cistercians,  learning  of,  i.  92. 
Citizens,  on  the  privileges  of,  ii.  152. 
Civil  Law  and  Civilians.    See  "  Law." 
Clarendon,  Earl  of,  his  History,  iii.  359. 
Clarius,  Isidore,  edition  of  the  Vulgate  by, 

ii.  103,  338. 

Classics,  labors  of  the  Florentine  critics 
on,  i.  187  — first  and  celebrated  editions 
of  the,  263,  330;  ii.  14.  15;  iv.  13  — 
Variorum  editions,  i.  330  ;  iv.  9  — Del- 
phin,  12,  ft  passim  —  Strada'fi  imita- 
tions, iii.  842. 

Clauberg,  German  metaphysician,  iv.  79 

Claude,  French  Protestant  controversial 
writer,  iv.  29  —  his  conference  with  Bos 
suet,  30. 

Clavius,  Euclid  of,  ii.  317  —  calendar  r& 
formed  by,  320. 

Clemangis,  Latin  verses  of,  i.  123  —  reli- 
gious views  of,  151. 

Clement  VIII..  ii.  83  — an  edition  of  Scrip- 
ture authorized  by,  103, 382  —  character 
of,  416. 


362 


INDEX. 


Clement,  Janute,  the  ,-egicide,  ii.  145. 

Clenardus,  Greek  Grammar  61'.  i.  834  ;  ii. 
28 ;  iv.  29. 

Clergy,  prejudices  of,  against  learning,  i. 
28 — preservation  of  grammatical  lite- 
rature owing  to,  29  —  hostility  between 
the  secular  and  the  regular,  150  — dis- 
cipline of,  ii.  70. 

Clerselier,  metaphysician,  iii.  76,  404 ;  iv. 
79. 

Cleveland,  satirical  poetry  of,  iii.  239, 
243. 

Clugni,  Abbot  of  (see  "  Peter  Cluniacen- 
sis  "),  i.  77,  &c  —  library  of  the  Abbey 
of,  92. 

Olusius,  his  works  on  Natural  History  and 
Botany,  ii.  332 ;  iii.  411. 

Cluverius,  his  Germania  Antiqua,  ii.  377. 

Coccejug,  Summa  Doctrinse  of,  ii.  437 ;  iv. 
78. 

Codex  Chartaceus,  CottonianMSS.  (Galba, 
B.I.)  contents,  and  materials  written  on, 
i.  79. 

Coeffeteau,  translation  of  Floras  by,  iii. 
344. 

Coffee,  its  first  mention  by  European  wri- 
ters, ii.  331. 

Coins,  collection  of,  by  Petrarch,  i.  182  — 
by  Niccoll,  ib.  —  on  adulteration  of,  ii. 
165— Italian  tracts  on,  iii.  161  —  De- 
preciation of,  under  William  III.,  iv. 
205.  See  "  Numismatics." 

('niter,  anatomist,  ii.  335. 

Colbert,  French  minister,  iv.  320. 

Colebrooke,  Mr.,  on  the  algebra  of  India, 
i.  247,  note. 

Coleridge,  Mr.,  his  praise  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  iii.  294,  note  —  his  opinions  on 
the  plays  of  Shakspeare,  302,  306  — 
—  remarks  of,  ii.  279 ;  iii.  319,  note,  422, 
note  —  on  Spenser,  ii.  233,  note  3  —  on 
Shakspeare's  Sonnets,  iii.  255  —  on  Mil- 
ton, iv.  226,  note  —  on  the  Argenis, 
iii.  372,  note  — his  Remains,  iv.  225, 
note. 

Colet,  Dean,  i.  280  — founder  of  St  haul's 
School,  ii.  50. 

Colinaeus,  printer  at  Paris,  i.  336,  357, 
380. 

Collalto,  counts  of,  ii.  187. 

College  of  Groot,  at  Deventer,  i.  123  —  of 
William  of  \Vykehain,  178  — King's,  at 
Cambridge.  178  —  of  Alcali  and  Lou- 
vain,  278.  279.  See  "  Universities." 

Collier's  History  of  Dramatic  Poetry,  and 
Annals  of  the  Stage,  i.  224,  note  ',  268, 
note  ' ;  ii.  261,  262,  notes,  263-266,  et 
stq.,  287,  note,  iii.  290-292,  notes. 

Colocci,  Angelo,  Latin  poet,  i.  466. 
Colomies,  the  Colomesiana,  ii.  92,  note  '. 

Colonna,  Vittoria,  widow  of  the  Martinis 
of  Pescara,   i.   367  —  her  virtues  and 
talents,  413;   ii.  189. 
jOluroio  Salutato,   literary  merits  of,  i. 
104. 


COOPER'S  HILL. 

Columbus,  Christopher,  Epistle  of,  1.  271 

—  discovery  of  America  by,  271,  321, 
322. 

Columbus,  Rualdus,  de  Re  Anatomica,  ii. 

335 ;  iii.  418,  420,  421. 
Columna,  or  Colonna,  his  botanical  works 

iii.  415  —  his  etchings  of  plants,  415 

iv.  329. 

Combat,  single.  Grotius  on,  iii.  200. 
Comedy,  iv.  265  —  Italian,  i.  430 ;   ii.  245 

—  extemporaneous,  iii.  273  —  Spanish, 
ii.  249,  &c.     See  "Drama.'; 

Comeuius,  his  system  of  acquiring  Latin, 

ii.  358  — its  utility  discussed,  359,  note. 
Comes  Natalia,  Mythologia  of,  ii.  63. 
Comets,   theory  respecting,  ii.  320;    iii. 

392 

Couiines,  Philip  de,  i.  245;  ii.  148. 
Commandin,  the  mathematician,  ii.  317  — 

works  on  geometry  edited  by,  ii. 
Commerce  and  trade,  works  on,  iii.  163, 

164 ;  iv.  203,  204. 
Commonwealths,  origin  of,  ii.  152 ;  iii.  165, 

169.  188. 

ConceptuaUsts,  i.  195. 
Conchology,  Lister's  work  on,  iv.  328. 
Concordiae  Formula,  declaration  of  faith, 

ii.  81,  98. 
Condillac,  works  of,  iii.  113, 114,  note,  213, 

214. 
Confession,  its  importance  to  the  Romish 

Church,  iii.  131 — strict  and  lax  schemes 

of  it,  134. 
Congreve,  William,  his  comedies,  iv.  271, 

273— Old  Bachelor,  ii.  — Way  of  the 

World,  ii.  —  Love  for  Love,  274  —  his 

Mourning  Bride,  271. 
Conic  Sections,  on,  iii.  381  —  problem  of 

the  cycloid,  384. 

Connan,  the  civilian,  U.  171 ;  iii.  190. 
Conrad  of  Wiirtzburg,  i.  59. 
Conringius,  Herman,  iii.  151, 156, 178. 
Constance,  Council  of.  ii.  94,  163. 
Constantin,  Robert,  reputation  of  his  Lexi- 
con, ii.  25,  50. 

Constantino,  History  of,  drama  of,  i.  220. 
Constantinople,  revolution  in  language  on 

its  cipture  by  Mahomet  II.,  i.  113. 
Constitutions  of  European  Stages,  printed 

by  the  Elzevirs,  iii.  156. 
Contareni,  tenets  of,  ii.  76. 
Contention  of  York  and  Lancaster,  play  of, 

ii.  *>•;. 

Conti,  Giusto  di,  Italian  poet,  i.  174. 
('i)nti,  Nicolo  di,  his  travels  in  the  East, 

i.  159. 

Contracts,  on,  iii.  192,  193. 
Controversy  of  Catholics  and  Protestants, 

ii.  77,  390. 
Convents,  expulsion  of  nuns  from  their, 

i.  352. 
Cooke,  Sir  Antony,  accomplished  daugh 

ters  of,  ii.  53. 
Cooper's  Hill,  Denham's  poem  of,  iii.  246 

—  Johnson's  remarks  on,  247,  note. 


ESTDEX. 


363 


COP. 

Cop,  the  physician,  i.  338. 
Copernicus,   astronomical    system   of,   i. 
453;  ii.  317.  31*.  319 :  iii.  17,  391,  396 

—  his  svsteni  adopted  bv   Galileo,  ii. 
319  ;  iii.  3t*i  —  by  Kepler." 391. 

Coppetta.  Italian  poet,  ii.  1^5. 

Coptic  language  indebted  to  the  researches 
of  Athanasius  Kircher.  iii.  429. 

Cordova,  Granada,  and  Malaga,  collegiate 
institutions  of,  i.  39. 

Cordus,  Euricius,  his  Botanilogicon,  i. 
459. 

Corneille,  Pierre,  dramas  of:  his  Melite, 
iii.  282  — the  Cid,  282-234;  iv.  248  — 
Clitandre,  LaTeuve,  iii.  282  — Medea, 
282—  Les  Horaces,  284  — Cinna,  285  — 
Polyeucte,  ib.  —  Rodogune.  286 ;  iv.  253 

—  Pompee,  iii.  286  —  ileraclius,  287  — 
Nicomede,    id.  —  Le  Menteur.    288  — 
style  of,  283  —  faults  and  beauties  of, 
287  —  comparison  of  Kacine  with,  iv. 
253. 

Corneille,  Thomas,  dramatic  works  of.  iv. 
255 — his  tragedies  unequal  in  merit, 
ib.  —  his  Ariane  and  Earl  of  Essex,  ib. 

—  his  grammatical  criticisms,  283. 
Cornelius  &  Lapide.  ii.  435. 

Corniani,  critical  remarks  of.  i.  175.  311 ; 
n  189,  note  «.  249.  .iote  *,  283 :  iv.'  213. 

Cornutus.  grammarian,  i.  44,  note. 

Corporations,  ii.  156. 

Correggio  and  Tasso,  their  respective  ta- 
lents compared,  ii.  199. 

Correspondence,  literary,  ii.  353. 

Cortesius,  Paulus.  his  Dialogue  de  Homini- 
bus  Doctis,  i.  101,  note  -,  191  —  his  com- 
mentary on  the  scholastic  philosophy, 
ii.  16. 

Corvinus,  Mathias,  King  of  Hungary,  i.  39. 

Corycius,  a  patron  of  learning,  i.  466. 

Cosmo  de'  Medici,  i.  119. 

Connie  I.  of  Florence,  type  of  Machiavel'a 
Prince,  ii.  298. 

Cossali,  History  of  Algebra  by,  i.  450,  451, 
452,  and  nota;  ii.  313.  315,  note. 

Costanzo.  Angelo  di,  ii.  183,  184.  192. 

Costar,  Lawrence,  printer  of  Haarlem,  i. 
165. 

Cota,  Rodrigo,  dramatic  author,  i.  267. 

Cotelier.  his  Greek  erudition,  iv.  14. 

Cotta,  the  Latin  poet,  ii.  294. 

Councils  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  i.  302, 
371 ;  ii.  76,  94.  98,  385,  401  — of  Trent 
(see  "Trent,"  &c.). 

Courcelles,  treatise  on  criticism,  ii.  300 

Coureelles,  Arminian  divine,  iv.  38.  43 

Cousin,  M..  on  the  philosophy  of  Hoscelin 
and  Abelard,  i.  37,  note  ]" — edition  of 
the  works  of  Descartes,  iii.  101  —  re- 
marks on  Locke,  iv.  14,%  144,  note. 

Covarruvias,  Spanish  law\er,  ii.  174, 177, 
179. 

Covenants,  on,  iii.  167. 

Coverdale  s  edition  of  the  Bib.  s.  i.  380  and 
.MM*;  1.00. 


CTTDWOBTH. 

Cowley.  poems  of.  iii.  249;  ir.  233  —  his 
Pindaric  Odes,  iii.  249— his  Latin  style, 
ib. — Johnson's  character  of.  250  —  his 
Epitaphium  Yivi  Auctoris,  iv.  243  — 
his  prose  works,  299. 

Cox,  Leonard,  his  Art  of  Rhetoric,  L  446 ; 
ii.  301. 

Cox,  Dr.,  his  Life  of  Melanchthon,  i.  277, 
note  «. 

Crakanthorp,  logical  works  of,  iii.  16. 

Cranmer,  Archbishop,  library  of,  i.  343 ; 
ii.  426,  423. 

Crashaw,  style  of  his  poetry  described,  iii. 

Craston,  Lexicon  of,  i.  181,  231  —  printed 
by  Aldus  in  1497,  ib. 

Creed,  the  Apostles',  ii.  427,  430  — the 
Athanasian,  427. 

Crellius.  de  Satisfactione  Christi,  ii.  417  — 
his  Vindicife.  425. 

Cremonini,  Caesar,  ii.  106, 108 ;  iii.  14. 

Cresci.  on  the  loves  of  Petrarch  and  Laura, 
ii.  295. 

Crescimbeni,  poet  and  critic,  i.  412.  413, 
note  i ;  ii.  181, 185, 298 ;  iii.  228. 273 :  iv. 
215— History  of  National  Poetry  by,  276. 

Cretensis,  Demetrius,  i.  319. 

Crispin  us,  Milo,  Abbot  of  Westminster,  1 
90,  note  *. 

Crispin,  Greek  works  printed  by,  ii.  364. 

Critici  Sacri.  ii.  99  ;  iv.  61. 

Criticism,  literary,  names  eminent  in,  ii. 
18— J  C.  ScaUger,  292  —  Gruter's  The- 
saurus Criticus,  20  —  Lambinus,  22  — 
Cruquius,  23  —  Henry  Stephens,  ib.  et 
passim  —  French  treatises  of,  300  — 
Italian,  i.  444;  ii.  186,  294  — Spanish 
critics,  299  — early  English  critics,  301 

—  sacred.  436. 

Croix  du  Maine,  La,  ii.  301,  353. 

Croke,  Richard,  i.  276,  278,  342— orations 
of,  294,  note. 

Croll.  of  Hesse,  on  Magnetism,  iii.  423, 
note  «. 

Cromwell,  state  of  learning  in  the  Pro- 
tector's time,  iv  15, 191— state  of  reli- 
gion, 42. 

Croyland  Abbey,  history  of,  doubtful,  i. 
39,  note  *. 

Cruquius,  or  de  Crusques,  scholiast  of,  on 
Horace,  ii.  23. 

Crusades,  and  commerce  with  Constanti- 
nople, influential  on  the  classical  litera- 
ture of  Western  Europe,  i.  113  —  their 
influence  upon  the  manners  of  the 
European  aristocracy,  146. 

Crusca,  della  the  Tocabularia.  ii.  299;  UL 
339  — the  Academy  of,  ii.  298,  350  j  iii. 
437. 

Crnsius,  teacher  of  Romaic,  ii.  34. 

Cudworth,  his  doctrine,  iv.  41,  43,  99, 
note  —  his  Intellectual  System,  66  — 
described,  66-70,  94.  note,  149;  iii.  53 

—  on  Free-will,  iv.  113  and  note  s — Im- 
mutable Morality  by,  149. 


364 


INDEX. 


CTTEVs.. 

Cueva,  Juan  de  la,  poem  of,  on  the  Art  of 
Poetry,  ii.  300. 

Cujacius,  and  his  works  on  Jurisprudence, 
ii.  168-171,  172. 

Culagne,  Count  of,  type  of  Hudibras,  iii. 
226. 

Cumberland,  Dr.  Richard,  De  Legibus  Na- 
turae, iv.  153-163  —  remarks  on  his 
theory,  163,  164. 

Cumberland,  Mr.,  criticisms  of,  iii.  308. 

Cunjeus,  on  the  Antiquities  of  Judaism, 
iii.  427. 

Curcellaeug,  letters  of,  ii.  418. 

Curiosity,  the  attribute  of,  Hobbes  on,  iii. 

Currency  and  Exchange,  iii.  163, 164. 

Curves,  the  measurement  of,  iii.  382. 

Cusunus,  Cardinal  Nicolas,  mathematician, 
i.  171, 199. 

Custom  of  the  Country,  by  Fletcher,  iii. 
315. 

Cuvier,  Baron,  his  character  of  Agricola 
as  a  German  metallurgist,  i.  461  —  opi- 
nion of,  on  Conrad  Gesner's  works,  ii. 
825  —  also  on  those  of  Aldrovaudus, 
829.  See  his  remarks,  iii.  412. 

Cycles,  solar  and  lunar.  &c.,  ii.  64. 

Cycloid,  problems  relating  to,  iii.  384. 

Cymbalum  Mundi,  ii.  101,  note  -. 

Bach,  German  devotional  songs  of,  iii. 
241. 

Dacier,  the  Horace  of,  if.  6  —  his  Aristo- 
tle, ii.  296;  iv.  6. 

Dacier.  Madame,  translations  of  Homer 
and  Sappho  by,  IT.  13. 

D'Ailly,  Peter,  the  preacher,  ii.  94. 

Daille  on  the  Right  Use  of  the  Fathers,  ii. 
404,435. 

D'Alembert,  iii.  44. 

Dale,  Van,  the  Dutch  physician,  iv.  280. 

Dalechamps,  Hist.  Gen.  Plantarum  by,  ii. 
333. 

Dalgarno,  George,  his  attempt  to  establish 
an  universal  character  and  language,  iv. 
121 — character  of  his  writings,  ib. — 
attempt  by,  to  instruct  the  deaf  and 
dumb,  122,  note  1. 

Dalida,  Italian  tragedy  of,  iii.  269,  note. 

Dal  top,  atomic  theory  of,  iii.  55. 

Damon  and  Pythias,  Edwards's  play  of,  ii. 
202. 

Dampier,  voyage  round  the  world  by,  iv. 
346. 

Dancourt,  his  Chevalier  a  la  Mode,  iv. 
264. 

Danes,  Greek  professor  in  the  University 
of  Paris,  i.  338  and  note  i,  350;  ii. 
17. 

Daniel,  his  Panegyric  addressed  to  James 
I.,  iii.  246  —  his  Civil  Wars  of  York  and 
Lancaster,  a  poem,  250 — History  of 
England  by,  358. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  his  Complaint  of  Rosa- 
mond, ii.  223. 


DEMOCRFI  US. 

Dante,  Alighieri,  Life  of,  by  Aretin,  I.  175 

—  Commentary  on,  by  Landino,  ib.  — 
his  Divina  Commedia,  i.  63, 122  ;  iv.  228 

—  his  Purgatory  and  Paradise.  228  — 
comparison  with  Homer,  ii.  298  —  con- 
troversy as  to  his  merits,  ib. — compari- 
son of  Milton  with,  iv.  225,  227  — the 
Ugolino  of,  ii.  256. 

D'Argonne,  Melanges  de  Litterature,  iv. 
297. 

Dati,  the  Prose  Florentine  of,  iv.  276. 

D'Aubigne,  Agrippa,  iii.  376. 

D'Aucour,  Barbier,  iv.  285. 

Daunour  on  the  origin  of  the  term  "  Ju- 
lian period,"  ii.  64,  note  J. 

D'Auvergne,  Martial,  i.  219. 

Davanzati's  Tacitus,  ii.  283. 

Davenant,  Dr.  Charles,  his  Essay  on  Ways 
and  Means,  iv.  207. 

Davenant,  Sir  William,  his  Gondibert,  iii. 
252 ;  iv.  233. 

Davenant,  theatre  of,  iv.  266. 

David  and  Bethsabe,  play  of,  ii.  266. 

Davies,  Sir  John,  his  poem  Nosce  Teipsum, 
or  On  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  ii. 
224 ;  iii.  246. 

Davila,  History  of  the  Civil  Wars  in 
France  by,  iii.  431. 

Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody,  ii.  221,  222. 
290,  note  ». 

De  Bry's  Voyages  to  the  Indies,  ii.  342. 

Decameron  of  Boccaccio,  style  of,  i.  441. 

Decembrio,  the  philologist,  i.  125. 

Decline  of  learning  on  the  fall  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire,  i.  26  —  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, 27. 

Dedekind,  his  poem  on  Germany,  ii.  132. 

Defence,  self,  Grotius  on,  iii.  184. 

Definitions  of  words,  on,  by  Descartes, 
Locke,  Pascal,  Leibnitz,  Lord  Stair, 
&c.,  iii.  90,  note. 

De  Foe,  Daniel,  iv.  314. 

Degerando,  remarks  of,  iv.  76  and  note  *  — 
Histoire  des  Systemes,  by,  ii.  115, 
note  l. 

Deistical  writers,  ii.  101. 

Dekker,  the  dramatic  poet,  iii.  334. 

Delambre,  the  mathematician,  i.  171. 

Delfino,  dramatic  works  of,  iv.  244. 

Delieiae  Poetarum  Gallorum,  ii.  239. 

Deliciie  Poetarum  Belgarum,  ii.  239,  242 

Delieiae  Poetarum  Italorum,  ii.  239. 

Deliciae  Poetarum  Scotorum,  ii.  242. 

Delille.  French  poet,  iv.  243. 

De  Lisle's  map  of  the  world,  iv.  345. 

Deloin,  Francis,  i.  285. 

Delphine  editions  of  the  Latin  classics,  iv. 
12 

De  Marca,  writings  on  the  Galilean  liber- 
ties by,  ii.  389. 
Demetrius  Cretensis,  a  translator  for  the 

Polyglot  Bible  of  Aleala,  i.  319. 
Democracy,   Spinosa's    definition    of,    iv. 

190. 
DemocrituS,  corpuscular  theory  of,  iii.  21. 


IXDEX. 


365 


Denhatfl,  Sir  John,  his  Cooper's  TTill  iii. 
246. 

Denmark,  Scandinavian  legends  and  bal- 
lads of,  iii.  243. 

De  Dominis.  Antonio.  Archbishop  of  Spa- 
Lato,  ii.  404,  note  •'. 

Depping,  Moorish  romances  published  by, 
ii.  207. 

De  Retz,  historian,  iv.  346. 

Descartes,  philosophical  and  scientific  de- 
ductions, &c..  of.  i.  36  note3 :  iii.  387- 
889, 396 :  IT.  70, 82, 1'  4. 13  i  —  summary 
of  his  metaphysical  philosophy,  &c..  iii. 
74—101  —  his  algebraic  improvements,  ii. 
316  ;  iii.  3S7  —  his  application  of  algebra 
to  curves,  388  —  indebted  to  Harriott, 
388  —  his  algebraic  geometry,  339;  ii. 
316  —  his  theory  of  the  uuiver-e.  iii. 
397  —  his  mechanics,  402 —  law  of  mo- 
tion by,  403  —  on  compound  forces,  404 
— on  the  lever,  404.  note  3  —  his  diop- 
trics, 404,  408,  409— on  the  curves  of 
lenses,  r'6. — on  the  rainbow,  lA.  —  on 
the  nature  of  light,  398  —  on  the  im- 
materiality and  seat  of  the  soul,  83, 
85-89  —  his  fondness  for  anatomical  dis- 
section, 85  —  his  Meditations,  86,  97  — 
his  Paradoxes,  8> — treatise  on  logic.  94 
— controversy  with  Yoet,  98  —  Leibnitz 
on  the  claims  of  earlier  writers,  100 
and  note  —  Stewart's  estimate  of  his 
merits,  101  —  his  alarm  on  hearing  of 
the  sentence  on  Galileo,  396 --pro- 
cess of  his  philosophy,  iv.  78,  136  — 
his  correspondence.  77  —  accused  of 
plagiarism,  ii.  120 ;  iii.  99,  388,  note. 

Deshoulieres,  Madame,  poems  of.  iv.  221. 

Desmarests,  the  Clovis  of,  iv.  222. 

De  Sous,  Antonio,  historian,  iv.  341}. 

Despencer,  Hush  de.  letter  to.  i.  79. 

Desportes,  Philippe,  the  French  poet,  ii. 
213. 

Despotism,  observations  of  Bodin  on,  ii. 
154,  155. 

Deuxponts,  Duke  of,  encourages  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Reformation,  i.  351. 

Deventer.  classics  printed  at,  i.  237 —  Col- 
lege of,  125,  151. 192. 

De  Witt's  Intercut  of  Holland,  iv.  203. 

D'Herbelot's  Bibliotheque  Oriental,  iv. 
343. 

Diana  of«Montemayor.  ii.  305. 

Dibdin's  Classics,  ii.  14.  15. 

Dibdin,  Bibliotheea  Spenceriana,  i.  168, 
note  -. 

Dictionaries,  early  Latin,  i.  99. 3#">  —  Cale- 
pio's.  2*52  —  Lexicon  Pentaglottum ,  iii. 
425  —  Lexicon  Heptaglotton.  iv.  342  — 
Arabic  lexicon,  iii.  428  —  Hebrew  lexi- 
con, i.  4S2  —  Vocabulario  deila  Crusca, 
ii.  299 :  iii.  339  —  lower  Greek,  ii.  3*33  — 
Latin  Thesaurus  of  R.  Stephens,  i.  336 
—  Elyot's  Latin  and  English,  i.  347  — 
Bavle's,  iv.  295,  296  —  Moreri's.  295, 
'  296. 


Dictionnaire  de  I'Academie,  iv.  282 — itj 
revision,  283. 

Dieu.  Louis  de,  on  the  Old  Testament,  iii. 
425.  427. 

Dieze,  the  German  critic,  ii.  204 ;  iii.  230. 

Digby,  Sir  Kenelm,  philosophical  views 
of,  iv.  64.  33o. 

Diogenes  Laertius.  i.  335 :  iv.  66. 

Dioaysius  of  Halicaraassus,  edition  by 
Stephens  of,  i.  335  —  by  Sylburgius, 
ii.  32. 

Diophantus.  his  method  in  algebra  for 
indefinite  quantities,  j.  452. 

Dioptrics,  science  of,  iii.  404,  408. 

Dioscorides.  History  of  Plants  by,  ii.  325. 

Disputation,  scholastic  and  theological,  i. 
358 ;  ii.  105-109. 

Divine  ri^'ht  of  kings,  iii.  158. 

Dodona's  Grove,  romance  by  Ho  well,  iii. 
376. 

Dodoens.  or  Dodonaeus,  botanical  work  of. 
ii.  331,  332;  iii.  416. 

Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  i.  435 ;   iii.  293.  note. 

Dogs,  on  the  sagacity  of.  ii.  120,  note  *. 

Doister,  Ralph  Roister,  play  of.  i.  437. 

Dolce  Lodovico.  treatise  of,  i.  445  —  hi* 
tragedies,  ii.  245. 

Dolet.  Stephen,  essay  of,  on  Punctuation, 
i.  445 :  ii.  294. 

Domat.  Loix  Civile*  of.  iv.  209. 

Domenichino.  his  style  of  painting,  ii.  199. 

Domesday,  Lord  Stirling's  poem  of,  iii. 
250  and  note  a. 

Dominican  order  opposed  to  the  Francis- 
can friars,  i.  371 :  ii.  123.  416. 

Dominis,  Antonio  de,  Abp.,  De  Republic* 
Ecclesiastica,  ii.  404,  note  J  —  on  the 
rainbow  and  solar  rays.  iii.  407. 

Donati.  the  Jesuit,  his  Roma  Vetus  et 
Xova.  ii.  376. 

Donatus,  Latin  grammar,  i.  88  —  printed 
in  wooden  stereotype,  165, 168. 

Doni,  his  Libreria,  a  bibliographical  hi* 
tory,  ii.  353. 

Donne,  Dr.,  his  satires,  ii.  225  —  founder 
of  the  metaphysical  style  of  poetry,  iii. 
247.  248  —  sermons  of,  ii.  438  —  his  let- 
ter to  Countess  of  Devonshire,  iii.  259. 

Dorat.  French  poet.  ii.  17,  210. 

D'Orleans.  Father,  historian,  iv.  346. 

Dorpius.  letter  of.  on  Erasmus,  i.  296. 

Dorset.  Duke  of.  poetry  of,  iv.  234 

Dort.  Synod  of,  ii.  413:  iv.  41. 

Double  Dealer,  play  of,  iv.  273. 

Douglas.  Gawin,  his  translation  of  th« 
-Eneid,  i.  283. 

Dou-sa.  poems  of.  ii.  242  :  iii.  242. 

Drake,  Sir  Francis,  voyages  of.  ii.  343. 

Drake's  Shakspeare  and  his  Times,  ii.  228 
—  remarks  of.  iii.  2.  - 

Drama,  ancient  Greek,  iv.  225. 232  — Euro- 
pean, i.  220,  266:  ii.  245:  iv.  244  — 
Latin  plays,  i.  221).  436  —  mysteries  and 
moralities,  i.  221. 222.  and  no".  433-433 
of  England,  4*'  -437 ;  ii.  261 ;  iii.  289 ; 


366 


INDEX. 


DKATTOW. 

iv.  265-276  — France,!.  313;  ii.257,  iii 
281;  iv.  244  —  Germany,  i.  314,435  — 
Italy, 226, 273, 430;  ii.  245, 248, 249 ;  iii. 
271 . 273 :  iv.  244  —  Portugal,  i.  266,  268 

—  Spain,  266, 267, 431 ;  ii.  249 :  iii.  273 ; 
iv.  244  —  Extemporaneous  comedy,  iii. 
273  and  note  3 —  Italian  opera,  ii.  248  — 
pastoral   drama,  246;   iii.  272,  309  — 
melodrame,  ii.  248  —  pantomime,   iii. 
273,   note  s  —  Shakspeare,   293-306  — 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  309-325  —  Ben 
Jonson,  306  -  309  —  Calderon,  275  — 
Lope  de  Vega,  274  —  Corneille,   282; 
iv.  254. 

Drayton,  Michael,  ii.  225  —  his  Barons' 
Wars,  224  — his  Polyolbion,  iii.  250. 

Dreams,  Hobbes  on  the  phenomena  of,  iii. 
104. 

Drabbel,  Cornelius,  the  miscroscope  of, 
iii.  407. 

Dringeberg,  Louis,  i.  192. 

Drinkwater  Bethune's  Life  of  Galileo,  iii. 
395  and  note. 

Drummond,  the  poems  of,  iii.  252  —  son- 
nets of,  256. 

Drusius,  biblical  criticism  of,  ii.  330  and 
note  2. 

Dry  den,  John,  iv.  219  —  his  early  poems, 
233— Annus  Mirabilis,  233  —  Absalom 
and  Achitophel,  ib.  —  Religio  Laici.  235 

—  Mac  Flec.knoe,  234  — Hind  and  Pan- 
ther,  235 — Fables,  236  —  Alexander's 
Feast    and    the  Odes,  237  —  transla- 
tion of  Virgil,  ib.  —  his  prose  works  and 
style,  300  —  his  remarks  on  Shakspeare, 
iii.    306,    notes  —  Essay   on    Dramatic 
Poetry.  309,  note,  324,  325,  notes ;  iv. 
300, 301  —  criticisms  by ,  70  —  his  heroic 
tragedies.  267  —  Don  Sebastian,  268  — 
Spanish  Friar,  269  —  All  for  Love,  270  — 
State  of  Innocence,  231 , 300  —  Conquest 
of  Grenada,  282. 

i)uaren,  interpreter  of  civil  law,  ii.  170. 
Du  liartas,  poetry  of,  ii.  212,  213;  iii.  233, 

439 ;  iv.  219. 
Dubellay  on  the  French  language,  ii.  210, 

note. 
Dublin,   Trinity   College,  library  of,   iii. 

435. 

Du  Bois,  or  Sylvius,  grammarian,  i.  445. 
Ducaeus,  Fronto,  or  Le  Due,  his  St.  Chry- 

sostom,  ii.  363,  note  2. 
Du  Cange,  Preface  to  the  Glossary  of,  i. 

42.  43,  note  ",  46,  note  *. 
Du   Chesne,  Histoire  du   Baianisme    by, 

ii.  82,  83,  notes. 
Duchess  of  Malfy,  play  of  Webster,   iii. 

332. 

Duck,  Arthur,  on  Civil  Law,  iii.  177. 
Duke,  poetry  of,  iv.  239. 
Dimbar,   \villiiini,    the  Thistle  and   Rose 

of,  i.  270,  421  —  his  allegorical  poem, 

the  Golden  Targe,  270. 
Dunciad,  the,  of  Pope,  iv.  218. 
l>uulop's  History  of  Fiction,  iii.  369,  note. 


EDWARD  VI. 

Duns  Scotus,  a  scholastic  barbarian,  11. 47 

Dunton's  Life  and  Errors,  &c.,  iv.  316, 
317,  note. 

Du  Petit  Thouars,  remarks  of,  ii.  333. 

Dupin,   M.,   opinions  of.  ii.  92,  '.< 

panegyric  on  Richer,  386 — his  Ancient 
Discipline  of  the  Galilean  Church,  iv. 
26  — Ecclesiastical  Library,  27. 

Duport,  James,  translations  of  Scripture 
by,  iv.  14. 

Duran,  his  Romancero,  or  Spanish  ro- 
mance-ballads, ii,  207 ;  iii.  229,  note  l. 

Duras,  Mademoiselle  de,  Religious  Con- 
ference before,  iv.  30. 

Durer,  Albert,  treatise  on  Perspective  by, 
ii.  321. 

D'Urfe,  romance  of  Astree,  iii.  869 ;  iv. 
221, 312. 

Duryer,  his  tragedy  of  Sce>ole,  iii.  288. 

Dutch  poetry,  iii.  242  —  grammar  of  Spie- 
gel, ib. 

Dutens,  his  Origine  des  Deconvertes  attri- 
buees  aux  Modernes,  iii.  406,  note,  421 
and  note  ' 

Du  Vair.  style  of  his  works,  ii.  285  ;  iii. 
343,351." 

Duval's  Aristotle,  ii.  363. 

Duverney,  Treatise  on  Hearing'  by,  iv. 
340. 

Dyce,  Mr.,  remarks  of,  ii.  268,  note  2 ;  iii. 
316,  note,  320,  321,  notes. 

Dyer,  Edward,  stvle  and  poetry  of,  ii.  302 

Dynamics  of  Galileo,  iii.  400. 

Earle,  John,  the  Microcosmographia  of 
iii.  361. 

Earth,  rotation  of  the,  ii.  324  —  theory  of 
its  revolution  round  the  sun,  iii.  394  — 
Buruot's  theory  of  tlie,  iv.  336. 

Eastern  languages,  study  of,  i.  266 ;  iii. 
424-429.  See  "  Language." 

Ecclesiastical  History  by  Uupin,  iv.  28; 
by  Fleury,  ib. 

Ecclesiastical  historians,  ii.  99  —  duties 
of,  100. 

Eckius,  doctrines  of,  ii.  93. 

Economists,  political,  iii.  101 ;  iv.  203,  et 
sty. 

Education,  Milton's  Tractate  on,  iv.  175 
—  Locke  on,  175  —  ancient  philosophers 
on,  176  —  Fenelon's  Sur  1'Education 
des  Filles,  181.  . 

Edward  I.,  play  of,  ii.  267. 

Edward  II.,  death  of,  ii.  140  — reign  of, 
224  — life  of,  265. 

Edward  II.,  play  of.  ii.  265. 

Edward  III.,  embassy  from,  to  the  Count 
of  Holland,  i.  79.  " 

Edward  IV.,  state  of  learning  and  litera- 
ture in  time  of,  i.  177.  1H7. 

Edward  VI.,  education  rf,  i.  340  —  state 
of  learning  in  the  time  of,  ii.  42.  !:!:», 
286  —  stajre-plays.  &c.,  stippre.-tsed  by 
his  council,  i.  436  —  Anabaptists  burnt, 
ii.  85 ;  drowned,  87. 


EvDEA. 


EDWAED9. 

Rdwards.  Richard,  poet,  the  Amanrium 
Ine  of,  H.  216.  note  3 — Damon  and 
Pythias,  262:  iii.  290. 

Eich'horn's  Geschichte  der  Cultur,  &c., 
i.  27.  28-32.  238.  note.  293,  note;  ii. 
93.  note ;  iii.  424,  note  *. 

Eleanor  of  Castiie.  play  of,  ii.  267. 

Elder  Brother,  play  of!  iii.  313 

Elias  Levita,  criticism  of,  iii.  426. 

Elizabeth,  education  of.  i.  346  —  state  of 
learning  during  her  reign,  ii.  47,  132  — 
her  own  learning.  48  —  philosophical 
works  in  her  time.  49.  132  — works  of 
fiction,  iii.  374  — poet?,  ii.  219.  228:  iii. 
290  —  court  of.  described,  ii.  288  —  pun- 
.ishment  of  the  Anabaptists,  87  —  Eng- 
lish divines  in  her  reign.  91 — bull  of 
Pius  V.  against  the  queen.  95.  See 
also  147,  221,  343. 

Elizabeth,  Princess  Palatine,  iii.  96. 

Ellls's  Specimens  of  Early  English  Poets, 
ii.  221,  note*:  iii.  259/260. 

Ellis.  Sir  Henry,  on  the  Introduction  of 
Writing  on  Paper  in.  the  Records, 
i.  80. 

Eloise  and  Abelard,  1.  54  —  learning  of 
Eloise.  110. 

Elyot,  Sir  Thomas,  the  Governor  of,  I. 
"343,  443  —  dictionary  of,  347. 

Elzevir  Republics,  the  publication  of,  iii. 
156. 

Emmius,  TJbbo,  Tetus  Grsecia  illustrata 
of.  ii.  378. 

Empedocles,  discoveries  of.  ii.  333. 

Empiricus,  Pextns.  on  Natural  Law,  ii. 
130  :  iii.  145.  147. 

Encyclopedic  works  of  middle  ages,  i. 
133. 

England,  its  state  of  barbarism  in  tenth 
century,  i.  31  —  its  language.  64  —  state 
of  its  literature  at  various  periods  (see 
"Literature")  —  dawn  of  Greek  learn- 
ing, 240  —  Greek  scholars  in.  279  — 
state  of  learning  in.  265.  341,  347 :  ii. 
132  :  iv.  14  —  style  of  early  English 
•writers,  i.  443  —  improvement  in  style, 
iii.  354;  iv.  297  —  Latin  poets  in, "iii. 
269  —  Musae  Anglicanae.  iv.  243 — Eng- 
glish  poetry  and  poets,  ii.  215.  237  :  iii. 
243  :  iv.  222  —  drama,  i.  437  :  iii.  290 ; 
iv.  265  —  prose-writers,  ii.  286  —  mys- 
teries and  moralities,  i.  435.  436  — ro- 
mances and  fictions,  iii.  374:  iv.  312  — 
writers  on  morals,  ii.  133 — historians 
of,  i.  245,  443:  iii. 432  —  Scripture  com- 
mentators, ii.  437  —  political  writers, 
iv.  183.  194  — criticisms  and  philology, 
ii.  301:  iv.  16.  17  — reformation  in.'i. 
304:  ii.  412  — high-church  party.  403 
(see  "Reformation  v)  — controversy  be- 
tween Catholics  and  Protestants,  390, 
891,  392  —  popular  theories  and  rights, 
147  —  theologians  and  sermons,  91. 438 ; 
Iv.  33.  40.  59. 

England,  Daniel's  History  of,  iii.  358, 


England's  Helicon,  contributors  to,  enu- 
merated, ii  221. 

English  Constitution,  the,  iv.  194. 

English  Revolution  of  1688,  iv.  201. 

Englishman  for  my  Money,  play  of,  ii, 
273.  note. 

Engraving  on  wood  and  copper,  early  ex- 
amples of,  i.  199,  200. 

Ennius.  annals  of,  i.  236. 

Entomology,  writers  on,  iii.  411. 

Euzina,  1'rancis  de,  New  Testament  by.  i. 
381. 

Enzina.  Juan  de  la,  works  of,  i.  268. 

Eobanus  Hessus.  Latin  poetry  of,  j.  429. 

Epicedia,  or  funereal  lamentations,  iii. 
267. 

Epicurus,  defence  of.  iii.  30. 

Episcopius,  Simon,  ii.  413  —  a  writer  for 
the  Remonstrants,  iv.  38,  41  — his  The- 
ological Institutions,  ii.  413 ;  iv.  41  — 
his  Life  by  limborch,  ii.  415.  note  '. 

Epithalanria".  or  nuptial  songs,  iii.  267. 

Erasmus,  his  criticisms  on  Petrarch,  i. 
101  — visits  England,  241  — Greek  pro- 
fessor at  Cambridge,  265 — jealousy  of 
Budasus  and.  285.  286,  and  note  »— his 
character,  287  —  his  Greek  Testament, 
292  — the  Colloquies  of,  356,  397  — his 
Encomium  Moria?,  242,  295,  297  — the 
Ciceronianus  of,  329  —  on  Greek  pro- 
nunciation, 337  —  a  precursor  of  the 
great  reformers,  302.  356  — his  l^Bvo- 
Qayui.  ib.  —  his  letters,  357,  note  —  his 
controversy  with  Luther.  302. 307.  note l, 
356.  358  — his  De  Libero  Arbitrio,  ii.— 
his  epistles  characterized,  359  —  his 
alienation  from  the  reformers.  360  — 
his  Adages,  242,  266,  286.  287-292 ;  ii. 
135  — his  attacks  on  the  monks,  i.  297 
—  his  Paraphrase,  374  —  his  charges 
against  the  Lutherans,  307  —  his  En- 
chiridion and  ethical  writings,  398  —  his 
theological  writings,  374 — his  death,  361 

Erastus  and  Erastianisrn,  ii.  419. 

Ercilln,  the  Araucana  of,  ii.  296. 

Ercolano  of  Yarchi.  fi.  297. 

Erigena,  learning  of.  i.  32. 

Erizzo.  Sebastian,  his  work  on  Medals,  ii. 
62,  349—  his  Sei  Giornate,  or  collection 
of  novels.  304. 

Erpc-nius,  Arabic  grammar  by,  iii.  428. 

Erythntus  (or  Rossi),  his  Pinacotheca  Vi- 
rorum  Illustrium,  iii.  265. 

Escobar,  casuistical  writings  of,  iii.  137. 

E*curial.  library  of.  ii.  347. 

Espinel,  iii.  231  —  the  Marcos  de  Obregoa 
of.  368. 

Espinel,  Vincente,  La  Casa  de  la  Memori* 
by,  ii.  204,  note  2. 

Esquillace.  Borja  de,  iii.  232. 

Essex,  Earl  of,  Apology  for  the,  iii.  355- 
private  character  of.  ii.  222. 

Estaco,  school  of,  i.  339. 

Este,  house  of,  patrons  of  learning,  i.  231 
310;  ii  248,830. 


INDEX. 


ETIIEREGE. 

Etherege,  George,  Greek  version  of  the 

^Eneid,  ii.  49. 

Etherege,  Sir  George,  style  of  his  come- 
dies, ir.  273. 
Ethics,  on,  i.  398 ;  iii.  48 ;  iv.  104,  105, 

153.     See  "  Philosophy." 
Etienne,  Charles,  anatomist,  i.  458. 
Eton  Greek  Grammar,  its  supposed  origin 

discussed,    i.  334  —  School,   178,  281, 

note  —  education  of  boys  at,  in  1586,  ii. 

50  and  note  —  Savile's  press  at,  363. 
Etruscan  remains,  works  on,  ii.  377. 
Euclid,  first  translations  of,  i.  129,  227, 

448  — theorem  of,  iii.  382  — editions  of, 

ii.  317. 

£uphormio  of  Barclay,  iii.  373. 
Eupliues,  the,  of  Lilly,  &c.,  ii.  287-289. 
Euridice,  opera  of,  by  Renuccini,  ii.  249. 
Euripides,  ii.  14,  45,  262,  note  » ;  iv.  246 — 

French  translations  of,  i.  434. 
Eustachius,  Italian  anatomist,  ii.  334 ;  iii. 

422. 
Eustathius  of  Thessalonica,   his  use    of 

Romaic  words,  i.  113,  note. 
Eutvchius,  Annals    of,   by   Pococke,  iv. 

343. 

Evelyn's  works,  iv.  299. 
Every  Man  hi  his  Humor,  play  of,  ii.  280. 
Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor,  play  of,  ii. 

289. 
Evidence,  on  what  constitutes,  iii.  64,  65, 

note. 

Evremond,  M.  de  St.,  poetry  of,  iv.  280. 
Exchange  and  currency  considered,  iii. 

162. 
Experiens,  Callimachus,  i.  176. 

Faber,  or  Fabre,  Antony,  celebrated  law- 
yer of  Savoy,  ii.  171 ;  iii.  176. 

Faber,  Basih'us,  merit  of  his  Thesaurus, 
ii.  k 

Faber,  Stapnlensis,  a  learned  Frenchman, 
i.  277,  355,  382. 

Faber,  Tanaquil,  or  Tanneguy  le  Fevre, 
iv.  13  —  his  daughter  Anne  le  Fevre 
(Madame  Dacier),  16. 

Fables  of  La  Fontaine,  iv.  216. 

Fabre,  Peter,  his  Agonisticon,  sive  de  Re 
Athletiea,  ii.  60. 

Fabretti  on  Roman  antiquities  and  in- 
scriptions, iv.  20,  21. 

Fabricius,  George,  ii.  34,  359;  iv.  11  — his 
Bibliotheca  Graeca,  20. 

Fabricius,  John,  astronomical  observa- 
tions by,  iii.  394 —  his  treatise  De  Ma- 
culis  in  Sole,  ib. 

Fabricius  de  Aquapendente,  on  the  lan- 
guage of  brutes,  iii.  413  —  his  medical 
discoveries,  416,  420. 

Fabroni,  Vitas  Italoruui  of,  iii.  382,  note  ! : 
iv.  20. 

Kabry,  his  Art  de  plaine  Rhetorique,  i.  445. 

Faery  Queen,  papers  on,  by  Professor 
Wilson,  ii.  232,  note  —  description  and 
character  of  the  poem,  230-237. 


Fairfax,    his   Jerusalem,    imitated    frcra 

Tasso,  ii.  227. 

Fair  Penitent,  play  of  Rowe,  iii.  820. 
Faithful  Shepherdess,  poem  of  Fletcher. 

iii.  261,  309. 
Falconieri,    his    Inscriptionea  Athleticae, 

iv.  20. 

Falkland,   Lord,   translation  of  Chilling- 
worth  by,  ii.  406. 

Fallopius,  the  anatomist,  ii.  334 ;  iii.  416. 
Fanaticism,  its  growth  among  some  ci  th« 

reformers,  i.  353. 
Farces,  i.  226.    See  "  Drama." 
i'arinacci,  or  Farinaceus,  jurist,  iii.  176. 
Farmer's  Essay  on  the  Learning  of  Suak- 

speare,  ii.  275,  note. 

Farnaby,  Thomas,  grammarian,  ii.  367.  ' 
Farquhar's  comedies,  iv.  2~i>. 
Farringdon,  Hugh,  Abbot  of  Reading,  L 

446. 
Fatal    Discovery,   play  of   Southern,  IT. 

271. 
Fathers,   the,  religious  respect  for  their 

works,  ii.  390,  404  —  doctrine  of  some 

of  the,  iii.  83. 
Fayette,  La,  Countess  of,  novels  by,  iv. 

308. 

Feltham,  Owen,  the  Resolves  of,  iii.  150. 
Fenelon,  Archbishop  of  Cambray,  his  Mux- 

imes   des   Saints,  iv.   44 —  op  Female 

Education,     181  —  Dialogues    of    the 

Dead  by,  278  —  merit  of  his  Telemaque, 

311.     ' 
Ferdinand  of  Tuscany,  plants  introduced 

into  Europe  by,  ii.  330. 
Format,   his  discoveries  in   algebra  and 

geometry,  iii.  384,  339,  404,  408. 
Fernel,  his  mode  of  measuring  a  degree  of 

the  meridian,  i.  448  —  eminent  French 

physician,  456. 
Ferrara,  Church  of,  broken  up  in  1550, 

i.  368  —  Duke  of,  botanic  garden  estab- 
lished by,  ii.  330. 

Ferrara,  Hercules  I.,  Marquis  of,  i.  2&4. 
Ferrara,  Spanish  Bible  printed  at,  ii.  104 

—  libraries  of,  i.  409  ;  ii.  347. 
Ferrari,  the  mathematician,  i.  450;  ii.  311 

—  Lexicon  Geographicum  of,  iii.  430  — 
Syriac  lexicon  of,  427. 

Ferrarius,  Octavius,  on  Roman  dress,  ii 

377;   iv.  20. 

Ferreira,  Portuguese  poet,  ii.  207. 
Ferreo,   Scipio,   inventor  of  cubic  equa- 
tions, i.  449. 
Fibonacci,  Leonard,  the  algebraist,  i.  127, 

246. 

Fichet,  rector  of  the  Sorbonne,  i.  173.  239. 
Firinus,  Marsilius,  theology  of,  i.  153.  104, 

208,  209  — translator  of  Ptotinna, 
Fiction,  on  works  of.  i.  438;   ii.  3»'3:   iii. 

363;  iv.  307  —  Kiiirlish.  nov.-ls,  ii.  307; 

iii.  374  — Spanish  romances.  ii.:)H>:  iii. 

363  — Italian,  i.  175;  ii.  303  — Moorish 

romances,  207. 
Field  on  the  Church,  ii.  437. 


IXDEX. 


369 


PTE80LE. 

Resole,  villa  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici  at,  i, 
188. 

Figulus,  Hennannus,  ii.  22. 

Figueroa,  Spanish  poet,  ii.  203. 

Filelfo,  philologist,  i.  117.  note  i,  US.  119. 

Filicaja,  Vicenzo,  his  Siege  of  Vienna,  iv. 
211 --his  Italia  mia,  a  sonnet,  212. 

Filmer.  Sir  Robert,  his  Patriarcha.  iii.  171 ; 
iv.  192. 

Finee,  Oronce,  mathematician,  i.  448. 

Fioravanti  of  Bologna,  i.  171. 

Fiore,  or  Floridus,  algebraist,  i.  449. 

Fioretti,  or  Udeno  Nisielo,  writings  of.  iii. 
3*1,  437. 

Fireuzuola,  satirical  poet,  ii.  192  —  cha- 
racter of  his  prose,  2-1. 

Fischart,  German  poet,  ii.  215. 

Fisher,  the  Jesuit,  Laud's  conference  with, 
ii.391. 

Fisher,  John,  i.  280,  note  =,  294,  note. 

Fisheries,  rights  to,  iii.  1ST. 

Fishes,  on.  ii.f28;  iv.  327. 

Fiacius  Illyricus,  Centuriae  Magdeburgen- 
ses  chiefly  by,  ii.  81,  99. 

Flaminio.  Italian  poetj  i.  367 — Latin  ele- 
gies of  Flaminius,  429. 

Flavio  Biondo,  i.  182 

Fiea  at  Poitiers,  lines  on  the,  ii.  240,  note  * 

Flechier,  Bishop  of  Nismes,  iii.  371 ;  iv. 
55 —  harmony  of  his  diction,  68. 

Fleming,  lyric  poetry  of,  iii.  241. 

Fleming,  Robert,  i.  177. 

Fletcher,  Andrew,  iv.  304. 

Fletcher,  Giles,  his  poems,  iii.  245. 

Fletcher's.  John.  Faithful  Shepherded,  iii. 
261  309,  319.  See  "Beaumont  and 
Fletcher/' 

Fletcher,  Phineas,  poet,  i.  315  —  his  Pur- 
ple Island,  iii.  244,  245. 

Fleury,  Claude,  Fx^clesiastical  History  bv, 
i.  27,  33 :  iv.  28  —  his  Dissertations,  ii>. 

Florence,  Platonic  and  other  academies  of, 
i.  208,  231  —  the  Gnomon  of.  198  — 
discussion  on  the  language  of,  444, 467  ; 
ii.  298 ;  iii.  340  —  the  Apatisti  and  men 
of  letters  of,  437  —  the  Lauren tian  Li- 
brary, i.  467 :  ii.  347— poets  of,  iv.  211 
—  Academy  of.  j.  466:  ii.298:  iv.  318  — 
the  villa  of  Fiesole,i.  188  —  Machiavel's 
History  of,  406 ;  ii.  384. 

Florus,  lines  to,  by  Adrian,  i.  51.  note. 

Fludd,  Robert,  his  Mosaic  Philosophy,  iii. 
22. 

lolengo  invents  the  Macaronic  verse,  ii. 
192,  note  *. 

Fontaine,  La,  fables  of,  iv.  216,  217,  and 
note,  311. 

Fontenelle,  poetry  of,  iv.  221  —  criticisms 
by,  ii.  258 :  iii.  282 :  iv.  244,  250,  253, 
279,  290.  293,  note  —  character  of  his 
works,  278  —  his  eulogies  of  academi- 
cians, ib.  —  his  Dialogues  of  the  Dead, 
ib.  —  his  Plurality  of  Worlds,  279— 
History  of  Oracles,  280  —  on  Pastoral 
Poetry,  289. 


FRISCHUBT.' 

Ford,  John,  critique  by  Mr.  Giffbrd  on  hi« 
tragedies,  iii.  330. 

Fortsti,  medical  knowledge  of.  ii.  336. 

Forster's  Mahometanisni  L'nveiied,  i.  130. 

Fortescue,  Sir  John,  on  Monarchy,  i.  3f7 

Fortunatus,  Latin  verse  of,  i.  52. 

Fortunio,  Italian  Grammar  of,  i.  444. 

Fosse,  La,  his  Manlius,  iv.  255'. 

Fouquelin,  his  Rhetorique  Francaise.  ii. 
300. 

Fourier,  M.,  on  algebra,  ii.  316,  note  *. 

Fowler,  his  writings  on  Christian  mo- 
rality, iv.  42. 

Fracastorius,  Latin  poetry  of,  i.  428 ;  ii. 
294. 

France,  progress  of  learning  in,  i.  237, 
285,  337  —  remarks  on  the  language  of, 
i.  219;  ii.  300;  iii. 351;  iv.  296— Latin 
poets  of,  ii.  240;  iii.  264;  iv.  241  — 
Latin  style  hi,  i.  279  —  grammarians, 
i.  445;  iv.  283 — poets  and  poetry  of, 
i.  418;  iii.  235;  iv.  216— drama,  ii. 
258,  260;  iii.  281-290;  iv.  244-265  — 
mysteries  and  moralities,  i.  433  —  no 
ve'ls  and  romances,  i.  58 ;  ii.  304 :  iii 
369;  iv.  308  — opera,  iv.  265  — prose- 
writers,  ii.  284;  iii.  343  —  sermons,  iv. 
55-58  —  memoirs,  ii.  346  —  critics,  368 
— Academy  of,  iii.  348-351 ;  iv.  282  — 
Academy  of  Sciences,  iv.  320  —  Gallican 
Church,  ii.  386 ;  iv.  25  —  Protestants  of, 
ii.  73,  121;  iv.28,52  —  Edict  of  Nantes, 
ii.  90,423;  iv.  28,  52  — League  against 
Henry  III.,  ii.  144  — Royal  Library,  ii. 
348  — lawyers  of,  ii.  170-174  —  histo- 
rians, i.  135  —  reviews  by  Bayle  and 
other  critics,  iv.  293,  296. 

Francesca  of  Rimini,  story  of,  i.  73. 

Francis  I.,  King  of  France,  i.  337  —  treaty 
of.  with  the  Turks,  iii.  193  — poets  in 
the  reign  of,  i.  418  —  University  of  Paris 
encouraged  bv,  ii.  17. 

Francis  of  Assisi,  St.,  i.  212. 

Franciscan  order  opposed  to  the  Domini 
can,  the.  i.  371. 

Franco,  Italian  poet,  ii.  192. 

Franconian  emperors  did  not  encourage 
letters,  i.  58,  note  1. 

Frankfort  fair,  a  mart  for  books,  ii.  350  — 
catalogue  of  books  offered  for  sale  from 
1564  to  1592, 353  —  University  of.  i.  293. 

Frederick  II.,  the  Fjnperor,  i.  113. 

Frederick  of  Aragon,  King  of  Naples,  a 
patron  of  learning,  i.  234. 

Frederick,  Landgrave  of  Ilesse,  ii.  319. 

Free.  John,  i.  177  —  error  respecting,  158, 
note  1. 

Free-will.  Molina  on,  ii.  83  —  controversies 
on.  410. 

Freinshemius.  supplements  of,  to  Curthu 
and  lavy.  ii.  358. 

Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay,  play  of, 
ii.  267. 

Friar*,  Mendicant,  philosophy  of,  i.  40. 

Frischiin,  scholar,  ii.  34. 


VOL,    IV. 


24 


370 


INDEX. 


Frlslus,  Gemma,  1.  464. 

Frobcnius,  press  of,  i.  276.  292,  385. 

Froissart,  history  by,  i.  245. 

Fruitful  Society,  the,  at  Weimar,  iii.  239. 

Fuchs,  Leonard,  his  botanical  works,  i. 
460 ;  ii.  331. 

Fuchsiaj  the  plant,  i.  460. 

Fulgentio,  Lord  Bacon's  letter  to,  iii.  32, 
note. 

Furetiere,  Dictionnaire  de,  iv,.  282  —  Ro- 
man Bourgeois  of,  310. 

Fust,  partner  of  Gutenberg  in  printing,  i. 
166 —  their  dispute,  168  —  Fust  in  part- 
nership with  Schicffer,  id. 

Gaguin,  Robert,  i.  239. 

Gaillard's  Life  of  Charlemagne,  5. 80,  note. 

Galateo  of  Casa,  his  treatise  on  politeness. 
ii.  132. 

Gale,  his  notes  on  lamblichus,  iv.  16  — 
his  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  66. 

Galen,  medical  theory  of,  i.  454,  455;  iii. 
417  —  edition  of,  by  Andrew  of  Asola, 
i  332  —  translations  of  his  works. 
838: 

Galileo,  persecution  of,  i.  453;  iii.  395— 
his  elegance  of  style,  336  —  remarks  on 
Tasso  by,  341  —  his  adoption  of  Kepler's 
system  of  geometry,  383  —  his  theory 
of  comets,  392  —  discovers  the  satellites 
of  Jupiter,  ib.  —  planetary  discoveries 
by,  ib.  393  —  maintains  the  Copernican 
system,  ii.  319;  iii.  394  — Delia  Scienza 
Meccanica,  ii.  322;  iii.  400  —  his  dyna- 
mics, 401 —  on  hydrostatics  and  pneu- 
matics, 404,  405— his  telescope,  406  — 
comparison  of  Lord  Bacon  with,  66  — 
various  sentiments  and  opinions  of,  ib. ; 
iv.  305  —  importance  of  his  discoveries 
to  geography,  345. 

uallantry,  its  effect  on  manners  in  the 
middle  ages,  i.  145  —  absence  of,  in 
the  old  Teutonic  poetry,  16. 

Galilean  Church,  liberties  of  the,  ii.  386- 
390;  iv.  25. 

Gallois,  M.,  critic,  iv.  293. 

Galvani,  Poesia  de  Trovatori,  i.  52,  note  z. 

Gambara,  Veronica,  ii.  189. 

Gamesters,  the,  play  of  Shirley,  iii. 
331. 

Gammar  Gurton's  Needle,  comedy,  i.  438, 
note;  ii.  261. 

Gandershein,  Abbess  of,  i.  84,  note. 

Garcilosso,  Spanish  poet,  i.  416 — his  style 
of  eclogue,  »6. ;  iii.  229. 

Gardens,  Rapin's  poem  on.  iv.  241,  242, 
note  —  Lord  Baron  on,  iii.  149  —  botani- 
cal, i.  459 ;  ii.  330 ;  iv.  335. 

Garland,  John.  i.  294,  note. 

Garland  of  Julia,  poetical  collection,  iii. 
846  and  note. 

Gamier,  Robert,  tragedies  of,  ii.  258. 

Garrirk,  iii.  307;  iv.  266. 

Garth's  Dispensary,  jv.  239  —  subject  of 
the  poem,  ib.  240. 


Gascoyne,  George,  his  Steel  Glass,  and 
Fruits  of  War,  ii.  218  — his  Supposes, 
261  —  Jocasta,  a  tragedy,  262,  note  3  — 
on  versification,  301. 

Gaspariu  of  Barziza,  excellent  Latin  style 
of,  i.  102,  105,  173. 

Gassendi,  i.  199,  note  1  —  astronomical 
works  and  observations  of,  iii.  399 — • 
his  Life  of  Epicurus,  iii.  30 ;  iv.  75  —  his 
philosophy,  71, 72-78, 125 —  remarks  on 
Lord  Herbert,  iii.  28  -  his  admiration 
of  Bacon,  71  —  attack  on  Descartes  by, 
86  —  his  logic,  iv.  71,  81,  127  —  his 
physics,  72  —  Exercitationes  Paradoxi- 
cse,  iii.  30  —  his  Syntagma  Philosophi- 
cuni,  iv.  71,  77  —  his  philosophy  mis- 
understood by  Stewart,  77  —  epitome 
of  the  philosophy  by  Bernier,  ib. 

Cast,  Lucas  de,  writes  the  romance  of 
Tristan,  i.  148,  note. 

Gataker,  Thomas,  ii.  437 —  Cinnus  or  Ad- 
versaria by,  iv.  16  —  his  Marcus  Anto- 
ninus, ib. 

Gauden,  Bishop,  and  the  Icon  Basilike, 
iii.  359.  360. 

Gaunelo's  metaphysics,  i.  36,  note. 

Gaza,  Theodore,  i.  118,  120,  163.  276,  334. 

Gellibrand,  mathematician,  iii.  381. 

Gems  and  Medals,  collections  of,  in  Italy, 
ii.  349. 

Gence,  M.,  on  the  authorship  of  De  Imi- 
tatione  Christi,  i.  152. 

Generation,  Harvey's  treatise  on,  iii.  422. 

Geneva,  republic  of,  Calvin  invited  by  the, 
i.  3ti3  —  eminent  in  the  annals  of  let- 
ters, ii.  45  —  Servetus  burnt  at,  84. 

Genius,  absence  of,  in  writings  of  the  dark 
ages,  i.  32  —  poetic  genius,  ii.  191-244. 

Gennari,  his  character  of  Cujacius,  ii.  169, 
171. 

Gensfleisch,  the  printer,  i.  165. 

Gentilis,  Albericus,  ii.  170,  176 — on  em- 
bassies, 178  —  on  the  rights  of  war,  &c., 
179 ;  iii.  160, 179. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  i.  58. 

Geoffry,  Abbot  of  St.  Alban's,  1.  222. 

Geography,  writers  on,  i.  200,  821,  463; 
ii.  340^345,  377  ;  iii.  429  — progress  of 
geographical  discoveries,  iv.  305  344 

Geology,  science  of,  iv.  335, 336. 

Geometry,  science  of,  i.  27.  131.  448 ;  U. 
817  ;  iii.  381 ;  iv.  99, 102, 131,  note 

George  of  Trebizond,  i.  163. 

Georgius,  Francis,  scheme  of  Neo-Platcnic 
philosophy  of,  i.  393. 

Gerard,  Herbal  of,  ii.  334  — edition  by 
Johnson,  iii.  416. 

Gerbert,  his  philosophical  eminence,  i.  32 

Gering,  Ulrick,  the  printer,  enticed  to 
Paris,  i.  172. 

Gerhard,  sacred  criticism  of,  U.  436  — de- 
votional songs  of,  iii.  241. 

Germania  Antiqua  of  C'luverius,  ii.  377. 

Germany,  progress  of  learning  in,  i.  82, 
216,  237,  341— schools  of,  192,  340  — 


IXDEX. 


371 


philologists  of,  ii.  31.  32;  iv.  209  — 
metaphysicians  of,  136  —  modern  Latin 
poet*  of,  iii.  265  —  decline  of  learning  in, 
i.  29i' :  ii.  34  :  tv.  11  —  the  press  of,  i. 
237,263  —  book-fairs,  ii.  352  — literary 
patrons  of,  i.  293  —  the  stage  and  popu- 
lar dramatic  writers  of,  i.  3U.  434  — 
Protestants  of.  351  et  seq. ;  ii.  70.  81  — 
poets  and  poetry,  i.  33,  58,  59 ;  iii.  239- 
242;  iv.  222  — hvmns.  i.  420:  iii.  241 

—  ballads,  ii.  215  — literature,  iii.  239  — 
academies,  i.  468 — literary  societies  iii. 
239  —  universities,   i.   293 ;    ii.   365  — 
libraries,  347  —  popular  books  in  fif- 
teenth century,  j.  244  —  the  Reforma- 
tion and  its  influence,  299,  351,  376 ;  ii. 
35,69. 

Gerson,  John,  Chancellor  of  Paris  Univer- 
sity, opinion  of.  iii.  142. 

Gervinus.  his  Poetische  Literatur  der 
Dautschen,  i.  58,  note  1. 

Gesner,  Conrad,  Pandectee  Universales  of, 
i.  350;  ii.  33  — great  erudition  of,  i. 
350:  ii.  33  — his  Mithridates.  sive  de 
Differentiis  Languarum,  ib.  —  his  work 
on  zoology,  i.  461 ;  ii.  325  ;  iii.  415  — 
his  classification  of  plants,  ii.  329,  331 

—  Bibliotheca  Univeraalis  of.  353  —  bo- 
tanical observations  by,  iv.  330. 

Gesta  Komanorum.  i.  148. 

Geulinx,  metaphysics  of,  iv.  79,  note3. 

Gibbon,  i.  158,  159. 

Gielee,  Jaquemars,  of  Lille,  writings  of. 

i.  148. 
Gierusalemme    laberata,    ii.    193.      See 

'•'lasso. " 
Giffin  (or  Giphanius),  his  Lucretius,  U.  22, 

28. 171. 
Gifford,  Sir.,  criticisms  of,  iii.  309,  note, 

330  —  his     invective    against    Drum- 

mond,  256,  note  ». 

Gilbert,  astronomer,  ii.319  —  on  the  mag- 
net, 325,  note  »  ;  iii.  19.  42. 
Gil  Bias,  Le  Sage's,  ii.  306  ;  iii.  368. 
Gillius.  de  Vi  et  Xaturi  Animalium.  i.  461. 
Ginguene,   remarks  of,    i.  80,   22i,   274, 

note,  430,  431 ;  ii.  193,  246,  249,  287, 

note. 

Giovanni.  Ser.  Italian  novelist,  i.  175. 
Giotto,  works  of,  i.  122. 
Giraldi,  Lilio  Gregorio.  his  Historia  de  Diis 

Gentium,  ii.  68. 
Girard.  Albert,  his  Invention  nouvelle.  en 

Algebre,  iii.  385. 

Gius.tiniani.  teacher  of  Arabic,  i.  463. 
Glanvil.  Jo»eph,  Vauitv  of  Dogmatizing 

by,  iv.  64,  117  — his"  Plus  Ultra,  &c., 

120  —  his  treatise  on  apparitions.  62  — 

his  Saciueismus  Triumphatus and  Scep- 

si<  Soientlfica.  62.  117.  120. 
Glanvil.    Bartholomew,    his    treatise    De 

Propriotatibus  Keruin.  i.  134. 
Glasgow.  University  of,  ii.  54,  121. 
Glass,  Philologia  Sacra  by,  ii.  436. 
Glauber,  tb*  chemist,  *he  salts  of,  iv.  321 


Glosses  of  early  law-writers,  1.  82-85. 
Gloucester,  Duke  Humphrey  of,  library  of. 

i.  124 ;  ii.  348. 
Gloucester  and  Bristol,  Bishop  of.     Sea 

"  \Varburton." 

Gobbi,  poetical  collections  of,  U.  183. 
God,  the  eternal  law  of.  disquisition  on,  iii. 
141—143  —  ideas  of,  by  certain  metaphy- 
sicians, ii.  107  :  iii.  2f ,  79-81,  and  note  i, 
9o,  97. 126.  139  ;  iv.  100,  105,  et  seq.. 
116, 138,  149. 

Godefroy,  James,  his  Corpus  Juris  Civilis, 
ii.  171 ;  iv.  209. 

Godwin,  Francis,  his  Journey  of  Gonzalez 
to  the  Moon,  iii.  375 ;  iv.  310. 

Godwin,  Mr.,  remarks  of,  on  Sidney,  ii. 
223.  note  i. 

Godwin,  Dr.,  ecclesiastical  antiquities  of, 
ii.  55  :  iii.  427. 

Golden  Legend,  i.  147. 

Golden  Number,  the,  ii.  65. 

Golding,  translations  by,  and  poems  of,  ii. 
226,302. 

Golzius.  ii.  60  —  his  collection  of  medals, 
62,  349. 

Gombauld,  French  author,  iii.  238,  348. 

Goinberville,  his  romance  of  Polexandre, 
iii.  352,  note,  370. 

Gondibert,  Davenant's  poem  of,  iii.  252, 
253. 

Gongora,  Luis  de,  the  Spanish  poet,  affec- 
tation of,  iii.  233,  234,  342  —  school* 
formed  by,  234. 

Goose.  Mother,  Tales  of,  iv.  311. 

Gordobuc,  a  tragedy,  by  Sackville.  ii. 
262. 

Gothofred,  writings  of,  on  Roman  laws,  ii. 
5*3. 

Gouge,  writings  of,  ii.  218. 

Goujet,  criticisms  of,  i.  445 ;  ii.  300 ;  iv.  55, 
283. 

Gourmont,  Giles,  established  the  first 
"Greek  press  at  Paris,  i.  263. 

Govea,  civilian,  ii.  170. 

Government,  Bodin's  remarks  on,  ii.  161 
—  patriarchal  theory  of.  iii.  158  —  wri- 
ters on,  ii.  134;  iv.  183-202  — writers 
against  oppressive,  ii.  134,  135,  139  — 
origin  of  commonwealths,  152  —  rights 
of  citizens,  ib.  —  nature  of  sovereign 
power,  153  —  despotism  and  monarchy, 
155  —  writings  of  Locke  and  Algernon 
Sidney,  iv.  193,  194.  See  "  King." 

Gower's  poems,  i.  68. 

Graaf,  anatoiukt,  iv.  340. 

Grarian .  Spanish  author,  iii.  342. 

Gradenigo,  his  testimony  as  to  vestiges  of 
Greek  learning  in  Italy,  i.  113. 

Graecia  Illustrata,  Vetus,  of  Ubbo  Emmius, 
ii.  378. 

Gra'vius.  Collections  of.  ii.  57,  58  —  edi- 
tions of  Latin  classics  by.  iv.  10  —  The- 
saurus Antiquitatum  Bxmiauarum  by, 
19:  ii.  378. 

Grafton,  historian,  iii.  351. 


372 


INDEX. 


GRAMMAR. 

Grammar,  science  of,  i.  27. 

Grammars,  Arabic,  i.  463 ;  ii.  337 ;  iii.  428 

—  (Jhaldee,  i.  462 ;  ii.  337  —  Dutch,  iii. 
242  —  English,    Ben    Jonson's,    362  — 
i'recch,  i.  445;  iv.  283,  284  — Greek,  i. 
263,  334 ;  ii.  28,  29,  31,  48,  51,  360-363 ; 
iv.  11,  12  — Hebrew,  i.  462  — Latin,  42- 
45 ;  ii.  37,  370, 373 ;  iv.  11, 12  — Oriental, 
i.  318  — Italian,  444  — Persic,  iii.  429  — 
Eton  and  Paduan,  i.  334  and  note  2 ;  ii. 
52,   note  i  — Syriac,  337  — Tanml,  iv. 

344  — Tuscan,  iii.  340. 
Grammaticus,  Saxo,  the  philologist,  i.  92 

—  classical  taste  of,  94. 
Grammont,  Memoirs  of,  iv.  346. 
Granada,  college  at,  i.  39  —  conquest  of, 

247  —  Las  Guerras  de,  romances,  ii. 
208,  307  — Conquest  of,  by  Graziaui,  iii. 
228  —  translation  of,  by  Mr.  Washing- 
ton Irving,  ii.  307  —  Wars  of,  by  Men- 
doza,  iii.  432. 

Grant,  master  of  Westminster  School, 
Graecse  Linguae  Spicilegium  of,  ii.  49. 

Grassi,  Jesuit,  his  treatise  De  Xribus  Co- 
metis,  anno  1619,  iii.  392. 

Graunt's  Bills  of  Mortality,  iv.  207. 

Gravina,  criticisms.  &c.,  of,  i.  311,  409; 
ii.  170  ;  iv.  210,  215  —  satires  on, 
241. 

Gravitation,  general,  denied  by  Descartes, 
iii.  397. 

Gray,  Mr.,  his  remarks  on  rhyme,  i.  43, 
note  2,  53  — on  the  Celtic  dialect,  43, 
note  2  —  on  the  Reformation,  365. 

Gray,  W.,  Bishop  of  Ely,  i.  177. 

Graziani,  his  Conquest  of  Granada,  iii. 
228. 

Grazzini,  surnamed  II  Lasca,  the  bur- 
lesque poet,  ii.  192. 

Greaves,  Persic  Grammar  of,  iii.  429. 

Greek  learning,  revival  of,  i.  107  —  Greek 
a  living  language  until  the  fall  of  Con- 
stantinople, 113  —  progress  of  its  study 
in  England,  241.  279,  343.  345 ;  ii.  45- 
52  — in  France,  i.  169,  194;  ii.  17  — in 
Italy,  j.  169,  248;  ii.  18  — Scotland,  i. 

345  ;  ii.  54  —  in  Cambridge  and  Oxford, 
i.  280,  281,  294,  note,  342,  343  ;  ii.  47 ; 
iv.  15--eniinent  scholars,  i.  107,  109, 
279;  ii.  17,  34  —  metrical  composition, 
i.  51;   ii.  34  — editions  of  Greek  au- 
thors, i.  231,  273,  276,  335,  342  ;   ii.  21, 
49  —  list  of  first  editions  of  Greek  clas- 
sics, 14  —  Grammars  and   Lexicons,   i. 
276,  334  ;  ii.  21,  29,  48,  361,  362  ;  iv.  11 

—  printing  of,  i.  194,  263,  276 :  ii.  49, 
52  —  Greek  medicine  and  physicians,  i. 
454  —  Greek  dialects,  writers  on,  ii.  362. 
868  —  Greek  poetry  of  Heinsius,  iii.  268 

—  Stephens's  treatise  on,  ii.  300  —  Greek 
tragedy,  iv.  226  —  on  the  pronunciation, 
i.  344 — decline  of  Greek  learning,  ii. 
359  (see  "Grammar,"   "Lexicon")  — 
manuscript  of   the   Lord's   Prayer  of 
eighth  century,  i.  107,  note  *. 


Green,  English  dramatist,  iii.  290. 

Greene,  Robert,  plays  by,  ii.  221,  267,  note, 
271  — novels  by,  309. 

Gregorian  Calendar,  thfe,  ii.  65,  320. 

Gregory  I.,  his  disregard  for  learning,  1. 
28,43. 

Gregory  XIII.,  Jesuits  encouraged  by,  ii. 
73  —  Greek  college  established  by,  ib.  — 
his  calendar,  65,  320  —  Maronite  colleg* 
founded  by,  339. 

Gregory  of  Tours,  i.  43. 

Greville.  Sir  Fulke,  philosophical  poems  of, 
iii.  246. 

Grevin,  his  Jules  Cesar,  ii.  258. 

Grew,  his  botanical  writings,  iv.  333, 
335. 

Grey,  Jane,  education  of,  i.  347. 

Grimaui,  Cardinal,  his  library,  i.  469. 

Grimoald,  Nicolas,  poems  of,  i.  426  — 
tragedy  on  John  the  Baptist  by, 
437. 

Gringore,  Peter,  his  drama  of  Prince  des 
Sots  et  la  Mere  sotte,  i.  318. 

Griseliui,  Memoirs  of  father  Paul  by,  ii. 
824,  note  2. 

Grisolius,  commentator,  ii.  22. 

Groat's  Worth  of  Wit,  play  of,  ii.  271. 

Grocyn,  William,  a  Greek  scholar,  i.  241, 
279. 

Grollier,  John,  library  of,  i.  338. 

Groningen,  College  of  St.  Edward's  near, 
i.  192. 

Gronovius,  James  Frederic,  critical  labors 
of,  iv.  9,  10  —  his  Thesaurus  Antiquita- 
tum  Grwcarum,  19  ;  ii.  378. 

Gronovius  the  younger,  iv.  10. 

Groot,  Gerard,  "college  of,  i.  125,  151. 

Grostete,  Bishop,  Pegge's  Life  of,  i.  Ill, 
note  2. 

Grotius,  his  various  works,  De  Jure  Belli, 
&c.,  &c.,  ii.  176,  179,  366,  418,  note  2 
423 ;  iii.  146, 177,  220,  265 ;  iv.  166, 167, 
183,  210  — Latin  poetry  of,  iii.  265 
note  - — his  religious  sentiments,  ii. 
395,  396,  note,  436 — controversy  there- 
on, 395-402  —  controversy  of.  with  Crcl- 
lius,  417  —  treatise  on  Ecclesiastical 
Power  of  the  State,  420  — his  Annota 
tions  on  the  Old  and  New  Testament, 
436  — De  Veritate,  444  — History  and 
Annals,  369 — moral  theories,  iii.  146 

—  controversy     with     Selden,     187  — 
charged    with     Socinianism,     ii.    418. 
419. 

Groto,  Italian  dramatist,  ii.  245 ;  iii.  269 

and  note. 
Gruchius,  or  Grouchy,  De  Comitiis  Roma 

norum  of,  ii.  58. 
Gruter's  Thesaurus  Criticus,  ii.  20,  '21,  31, 

365  —  the  Corpus  Inscriptionum  of,  375 

—  his  Delicise  Poetarum  Gallorum,  Ger- 
manorum,    Belgarum,  and  Italorum, 
239 ;  iii.  239. 

Gruyer's  Essays  on  Descartes,  iii.  76. 
note  2. 


373 


HEBBEW. 


Grynseus,  Simon,  translator  of  Plutarch's  Hampden,  Dr.,  remarks  of,  i.  32,  note,  36, 

Lives,  i.  311  —  his  geography,  463  ;  ii.         37.  note. 

340.  Hanno.  Archbishop,  poem  on.  i  33. 

Qryph,    or    Grvphius,    tragedies   of,    iii.  Harding,  metrical  chronicler,  i.  317. 

241.  Harding,  the  Jesuit,  ii.  91. 

inarini,    Gnarino,    of    Verona,    i.    104,  Hardt.  Von  der.  Literary  History  of  the 

116  —  his    Pastor   ildo,    ii.  247  ;    iii.         Keformarion  by,  j.  299.  note 

273.  Hardy,  French  dramatist  and  comedian, 
juerras,  Las,  de  Granada,  romance  of,  ii.         iii.  281  —  comedies  of.  ii. 

307.  Hare.  Archdeacon,  on  the  tenets  of  Ln- 
Buevara,  his  Marco  Aurelio,  or  Golden         ther.  i.  303,  307.  note. 

Book.  i.  395-397.  Harlequins,  Italians,  iii.  274,  note  *. 

Guicciardini.  his  Hi=tory  of  Italy,  i.  465  ;  Harpe.   La.   criticisms    of.    ii.   211,   260, 

ii.  345  —  continued  by  Adriani,  ik.  note*;  in.  237,  282,  286;   ir.  58,  217, 

Guiccianlini.  Ludovico.  iii.  156.  253. 

Guidi.  Oies  of.  iii.  226  :  iv.  213.  215.  Harrington,   Sir  James,  his  Ocean*,  IT. 
Guide,  the  genius  of,  ii.  199  ;  iv.  312.  191. 

Guienne,  Duke  of,  poems  by,  i.  53.  Harrington,  Sir  John,  11^216.  note  z  —  his 
Guignes,  De,  History  of  the  Huns  by,  ir.         translation  of  Ariosto.  227. 

343.  Harriott,   his  generalization  of  algebraic 
Guijon,  Latin  poetry  of.  iii.  264.  equations,    i.    450,  452  ;    ii.  315  —  his 

Guillen,  his  Gnomon,  an  early  work  on         Artis  Analytics-  Praxis,  iii.  386,  note  * 

Greek  quantity,  ii.  30.  note  -.  —  on  the  Spots  in  the  Sun.  3t*4. 

Gnizot,  M.,  his  observations  on   mental  Harrison  on  the  mode  of  education  at  the 

advancement,  i.  28,  32,  33,  notes  —  on        universities  in  1586,  ii.  49,  note  '  —  at 

Alcuin.  29,  32,  note.  the  great  collegiate  schools,  50,  ncte  *, 

Gunter  on  Shies  and  Tangents,  iii.  381.  317.  note. 

Gunther,  poem  of  Ligurinus  by,  i.  92.  Harrow  School,  rules  by  its  founder,  Mr. 
Gunthorpe.  John.  i.  177.  Lyon,  ii.  51. 

Gustavus  Vasa,  King  of  Sweden,  confis-  Hartley's    metaphysical    tenets,    iii.   129 

cates  all  ecclesiastical  estates,  i.  352.  —  his  resemblance  to  Hobbes,  A.  130. 

Gutenberg  of  Mentz,  inventor  of  the  art  Hartsoeker's  discovery  of  spermatic  ani- 

of  printing,  i.  165.  malcules.  iv.  340. 

Guther  on  the  Pontifical  Law  of  Rome,  ii.  Harvey,   William,  his  discovery    of   the 

376.  circulation  of  the  blood,  i.  458  :  iii.  417, 

Guvon.  Madame,  writings  of.  iy.  44.  420  ;     iv.    339  —  on    generation,    iii. 

Guzman  d'Aliarache  of  Aleman,  ii.  306.  422. 

Harvey,  Gabriel^on  English  verse,  ii.  227, 
Habington,  poetry  of,  iii.  259.  302. 

lladdon.  Walter,  his  excellent  Latinity,  Harwood,   Alnmni   Etonenses  of,   i.  437, 

and  Orations  of,  ii.  41.  note  l. 

Haguenau,  edition  of  New  Testament,  i.  Haslewood,  Mr.,  collection  of  early  Eng- 

380.  lish  critics  by.  ii.  301,  notfs. 

Hakewill,  George,  on  the  Power  and  Pro-  Haughton,  dramatic  writer,  ii.  273.  note. 

vidence  of  God,  iii.  439.  Hiuy,  scientific  discoveries  of.  iii.  55. 

Hakluy  t's  Voyages,  ii.  844  ;  iii.  429.  Havelok,  the  Dane,  metrical  romance,  i.  56, 
Hales,  scholastic  reputation  of.  i.  36.  note  s,         57,  note  *. 

39.  note  -  —  his  tract  on  Schism,  ii.  406,  Hawes.  Stephen,  his  Pastime  of  Pleasure, 
409,  410,  note.  &c.!  i.  314.  315. 

Hall,  Bishop,  his  works,  ii.  391.  note  :  iii.  Hawkins's  Ancient  Drama,  i.  435  ;  ii.  267 

143  —  his  Mundus  Alter  et  Idem.  375  —         note  1. 

Art  of  Divine  Meditation,  and  Contem-  Headley's  remarks  on  Daniel,  ii.  224,  not* 

plations,    ii.   440  —  his   Satires.   225—         —  on  Browne,  iii.  252. 

Pratt's  edition  of  his  works,   iii.  354,  Heat  and  cold,  antagonist  principles,  ii. 

note.  109. 

Halliwell's  edition  of  the  Harrowing  of  Heathen  writers,  perusal  of,  forbidden  by 

Hell,  i.  223,  notes.  Isidore,  i.  28  —  library  of,  said  to  have 

Hamilton.  Anthony,  iv.  311  —  Memoirs  of         been  burned  by  Pope  Gregory  I.,  28, 

de  Grammont  by,  346.  note. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  on  Induction,  iii.  Heber,  Bishop,  edition  of  Jeremy  Taylor 

40,  41,   note  —  his   edition    of  Reid?a         by,  ii.  431,  note. 

works,  115,  note.  Hebrew,  study  of.  i.  212.  462:  ii.  338:  iii 

Hammond,    his    Paraphrase   and    Anno-         424  —  Rabbinical  literature.  425-427  — 

tatious    on    the    New    Testament,   iy.         Hebrew  types,  ii.  339  —  books,   gram- 

4"  •  mars,  and  lexicons,  i.  462;    IT.  22  — 


374 


INDEX. 


rmBKEW  CANTICLES. 

eminent  scholars,  i.  462;  ii.  338;  iii. 
425-427  —  critics,  ii.  338  —  Spencer  on 
the  laws  of  the  Hebrews,  iv.  343. 

Hebrew  Canticles  of  Castalio,  ii.  103. 

Hecatomithi,  the,  of  Cinthio,  ii.  303. 

Hector  and  Andromache  of  Homer,  Dry- 
den's  criticism  on.  iv.  301. 

Heeren,  criticisms  of,  i.  27,  28,  note. 

Hegius,  Alexander,  i.  192. 

Heidelberg,  libraries  of,  i.  469;  ii.  347 

Heineccius,  remarks  of,  ii.  169  and  note. 

Heinsius,  Daniel,  epitaph  on  Joseph 
Scaliger  by,  ii.  44,  note  —  works  of.  365 

—  Latin  elegies  and  play,   iii.   265  — 
his  Peplus  GraBcorum.  Epigrammatum, 
268. 

Heinsius,  Nicolas,  editions  of  Prudentius 

and  Claudiaii  by,  i v.  10. 
Helden  Buch,    the,   or  Book  of  Heroes, 

i.  60. 
Helmont,   Van,   medical   theories  of,    iii. 

423;  iv.  321,  341. 
Helmstadt,  University  of,  ii.  347. 
Heramings,  English  actor,  iii.  291,  note. 
Henrietta,    Duchess  of  Orleans,   sudden 

death  of,  iv.  67,  note. 
Henrietta  Maria,  Queen,  iii.  331. 
Henry  III.  of  France,  ii.  142, 144,  145, 149 

—  his  assassination,  145  —  rebellion  of 
League  against,  142. 

Henry  IV.  of  France,  deserts  the  Protes- 
tant cause,  ii.  90  —  conference  before,  at 
Fontainebleau,  ib.  —  refusal  of  League 
to  acknowledge,  142  —  reconciled  to  the 
Romish  Church,  382  —  assassination 
of,  iii.  155  —  poets  in  the  reign  of, 
237. 

Henry  IV.  of  England,  ii.  140. 

Henry  VI.,  reign  of,  i.  224,  435. 

Henry  VII.  of  England,  reign  of,  i.  265, 
316,  435. 

Henry  VIII.,  i.  337,  377,  435,  446;  ii. 
143. 

Henry  of  Valois,  ii.  143. 

Henry,  Dr.,  History  by,  i.  27,  note,  29, 
no'te  *. 

Herbelot,  d',  Bibliotheque  Orientale  of,  iv. 
343. 

Herberay,  translations  of,  i.  313. 

Herbert  of  Cherbury,  Lord,  his  Henry 
VI 1  r.,  iii.  432  — De  Religione  Gentilium, 
ii.  444 ;  iii.  28  —  analysis  of  his  prin- 
cipal work,  De  Veritate,  ii.  444 ;  iii.  24- 
29  —  Qasseudi's  remarks  on  Herbert, 
28. 

Herbert,  George,  iii.  38  —  his  Country 
Parson,  ii.  441. 

Herbert,  Sir  Henry,  master  of  the  revels, 
iii.  291.  , 

Herbert,  William,  Earl  of  Pembroke 
(Shakspeare's  Sonnets  dedicated  to  Mr. 
W.  II.),  iii.  253,  note,  255  —  his  poems, 
259  and  note.  *. 

Herbert's  History  of  Printing,  i.  344,  note  « 

—  catalogue,  quoted,  ii.  56,  5" 


Herbert's,  Hon.  and  Rev.  W.,  poem  on 

Attila,  i.  60,  note  ». 
Herder,  the  Zerstreute  Blatter  of,  i.  33, 

298,  note  » ;   iii.  153. 
Heresy,  and  its  punishments,  ii.   89-93, 

423,  424,  and  note  *. 

Hermolaus  Barbarus,  celebrity  of,  i.  232. 
Hermonymus  of  Sparta,  i.  194. 
Hernando,  d'Oviedo,  History  of  the  Indies 

by,  i.  465  — natural  history  by,  ii.  330. 
Herodes  Infanticida,  Latin  play  of  Ilein- 

sius,  iii.  266. 

Herrera,  Spanish  poems  of,  ii.  201. 
Herrera's  History  of  the  West  Indies,  iii. 

412. 
Herrick,   Robert,  poems  of,  iii.  258  and 

note,  260. 
Herschel,  Sir  John,  remarks  by,  iii.  53  and 

note  i,  81,  note. 
Hersent,  or  Optatus  Gallus,  in  defence  of 

the  Gallican  liberties,  ii.  3S9. 
Hessus,  Eobanus,  Latin  poetry  of,  i.  429. 
Hey  wood,   dramatic  writings  of,  ii.  269: 

iii.  293,  331. 
Higden,  Kanulph,  Chester  mysteries  by, 

i.  224  —  his  Polychronicon,  317,  note. 
Hincmar,  Bishop,  letter  of,  i.  108. 
Hippocrates,  Aphorisms  of,  Arabic  version 

on  linen-paper,  A.D.  1100,  i.  77  —  his 

system  of  medicine,  by  whom  restored, 

455. 

Historians,  ecclesiastical,  ii.  99. 
Historical  and  Critical  Dictionary  of  Bay  le, 

iv.  295. 
Historic  of  Grande   Ainour,  by  Stephen 

Hawos,  i.  314,  315. 
History,  on.  iii.  43, 156  — writers  of,  i.  463, 

465;  ii.  345  ;  iii.  429;  iv.  346  — classic, 

ii.  134— natural,  i.  459;   ii.  325;  iii. 

411 ;  iv.  345. 

Histriomastix  of  Prynne,  iii.  292. 
Hobbes,  Thomas,  his  philosophy  and  writ- 
ings, iii.  38,  146 ;  iv.  45,  70,  153,  et  seq. 

—  summary  of  his  works  on  metaphy- 
sical philosophy,  iii.  101-130  — Do  C've 
by,  101,  164,  165;   iv.  187  — his  objec- 
tions to  the  Meditations  of  I)i 

iii.  86,  87,  88,  and  notes  —  Leviathan 
by,  101,  127;  iv.  67— his  views  on 
geometry,  iii.  87,  note  2  —  hi.s  J)e  Cor- 
pore  Politico,  101,  164  —  on  Hum, -in 
Nature,  101,  165  — his  Eleineuta  I'lii- 
losophia,  127  —  on  sovereign  power,  168 

—  his  moral  theories,  146  —  char;u't«r 
of  his  moral  and  political  systems,  176 

—  his  merits,  130. 

Hoccleve,  English  poet,  i.  141,  425. 
Hody's  l)o(ira><-is  illustribus,  i.  115,  note*, 

117,  note  ;i,  239,  note  3. 
Hoffmanswaldau,  German  poet,  iv.  222. 
Holbein,  amusing  designs  of,  i.  '2'.*  i. 
Holland.  Lord,  remarks  of,  ii.  200.  note  l. 

251,  253,  255;    iii.   235— his   Life  of 

Lope  de  Vega,  ii.  253,  note  - ;   iii.  234, 

note  2 


INDEX. 


375 


HOLLA  >T>. 

Holland,  literature,  philosophy,  and  po- 
etry of  the  Dutch  authors,  iii.  241, 265 ; 
iv.  9. 

Hollingshed's  Chronicle,  i.  443,  note  *. 

Homer,  comparison  of  Virgil  with,  ii.  293 

—  of  Ariosto  with,  i.  310;   ii.  198  — of 
Miitou  with,  iv.   224.   225  —  of  Tasso 
with,  ii.  193, 195—  translations  of.  226; 
iii.  334  :  iv.  13  — of  Racine  with,  250  — 
with  Fenelon,  311. 

Ilooft,  Peter,  the  Dutch  poet,  iii.  242. 
Hooke.  Dr..  his  Micrographia,  iv.  324  —  his 

geological  views,  337. 
Hooker.  Ecclesiastical  Polity  of.  ii.  51,  54, 

55.  86,  124,  126,  147,  290,  420 ;  iii.  141, 

170;  iv.  197/198.  201. 
"Horace,  emendation  of  the  text  of,  by 

Lainbinus,    ii.    22  —  the    edition    of, 

by  Cruquius,  stvled  the  Scholiast,  23 

—  by  Torrentius".  364  —  Bond's,  367  — 
Farnaby's,  id. — Dacier's.  iv.  13  —  Odes 
of.  ii.  201;   iii.  228  —  imitators  of,  ii., 
229,230. 

Horaces,  Les,  tragedy  of.  by  Corneille,  iii. 

284. 

Horrox,  scientific  discoveries  of,  iii.  399. 
Horse,   the  celebrated,   of  Fabretti,   the 

antiquary,  iv.  20. 

Hoschius,  Sidonius,  works  of,  iii.  266. 
Hospinian's  character  of  the  Jesuits,  ii. 

71.  note. 

Hospital,  De  1',  Latin  poems  of,  ii.  240. 
Hottinger,   Bibliofheca  Orientahs  of.   iv. 

342. 
Hottoman.  Francis,  the  Franco-Gallia  of, 

il.  136.  138  —  his  Anti-Tribonianus,  172 

—  on  Cujacius,  168. 
Houssaye.  Atnelot  de  la,  iv.  191. 
Howard,  Sir  Robert,  his  Observations  on 

Dryden,  and  the  poet's  reply,  iv.  302. 

Howell,  James,  his  Dodona's  Grove,  iii. 
37'j :  iv.  191. 

Howes,  the  continuator  of  Stow.  iii.  291. 

Hroswitha,  Abbess,  poems  of.  i.  34,  note. 

Hubert,  French  sermons  of,  iv.  55. 

Hudibras.  iii.  22G  :  iv.  223. 

Hudson's  Thucydides,  iv.  16. 

Huet .  Bishop  of  Avranches,  his  Demonstra- 
tio  Evangelioa.  iv.  51  —  antagonist  of 
Scaliger,  ii.  380;  iii.  371  — Remarks  of, 
iv.  11  —  the  Index  to  the  Delphine  Clas- 
sics designed  by,  13 —  his  Censura  Phi- 
losophise Cartesianse,  80,  81. 

Hughes,  dramatic  writer,  ii.  268. 

Huguenots,  conversion  of  the,  ii.  90. 

Human  nature,  on,  iii.  101  et  seq.;  iv.  48- 
51. 

Hunnis,  William,  poems  of,  ii.  216. 

Hunter,  observation?  of,  iv.  68. 

Hunter,  Mr.,  researches  on  Shakspeare  by, 
ii.  270.  note  '. 

HurJ,  Bishop,  his  remarks  on  Shakspeare, 
'ii.  306  and  note  —  on  Euripides,  iv.  250 

—  on  Moliere,  267. 
Buss,  John,  ii.  103. 


INSCRIPTIONS. 

Hutten,  Ulric  von,  the  Epistolaj  Obscuro- 
rum  Virorum,  i.  298. 

Button's,  Dr..  Mathematical  Dictionary, 
i.  450:  ii.  311,  316. 

Huygens,  mathematician,  iv.  318. 

Hyde,  Religionis  Persarum  HUtoria  of  iv. 
343. 

Hydraulics,  science  of.  discoveries  of  Cas- 
"tellio  and  Torricelli.  iii.  404. 

Hydrostatics  and  pneumatics,  ii.  323  — 
discoveries  of  Galileo,  Castellio,  and 
Torricelli.  iii.  404.  405. 

Hymns.  German,  i.  420  :  iii.  241  —  of  Lu- 
theran Church,  i.  372. 

Icon  Basilike,  controversy  concerning  the, 
iii.  64.  note  —  author  of  the.  359. 

Ichthyology  of  Rondolet,  Salviani,  Ray, 
and  others,  ii.  328. 

Ideas,  the  association  of.  iy.  92.  Ill — uni- 
versal, 112  —  Gassendi's  theorv  of,  72- 
74  —  Arnauld's,  101—  of  reflection,  iii. 
78  ;  iv.  126,  note  —  Locke's  theory,  125 
—  vague  use  of  the  word  "  innate."  126, 
142. 

Idola  and  fallacies,  iii.  51 ;  iv.  322.  Sea 
"Bacon." 

Ignorance  and  prejudice,  on,  by  Hobbes, 
iii.  124. 

Hlvricus,  Flacius,  the  ecclesiastical  histo- 
rian, ii.  99. 

Imagination,  the,  Descartes  and  Hobbes 
on,  iii.  84,  103  —  M&lebranche  on,  iv. 
89. 

Independents,  the,  principles  of  toleration 
claimed  by.  ii.  425. 

Index  Expurgatorius  of  prohibited  books 
ii.  354;  iii.  395. 

India,  languages  of,  iv.  343. 

India,  Portuguese  settlements  in,  ii.  342. 

India,  History  of,  by  Maffei.  ii.  342. 

Indies,  West,  History  of,  by  Acosta,  iii. 
412. 

Induction,  on  the  Baconian  method  of,  ill 
39,  40,  note . 

Infidelity,  progress  of,  ii.  442-444. 

Infinites,  theory  of,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  105. 

Inghirami  on  Etruscan  antiquities,  ii.  377 

Ingulfus,  on  the  early  history  of  Oxford 
University,  i.  39  —  doubts  as  to  the  au- 
thenticity of  his  history,  50  —  French 
laws  in,  50,  note  1. 

Innocent  X.,  iv.  37. 

Innocent  XI.,  dispute  of,  with  Louis  XIV., 
iv.  24. 

Innocent  XTT.,  treaty  of,  iv.  24. 

Inquisition,  the,  ii.  69,  110  — Bibles  and 
numerous  books  burnt  by,  354  —  its 
persecutions  of  the  reformers,  i.  370, 
371. 

Inscriptions,  ancient,  i.  181, 182  —  collec- 
tions of  Smetius,  Reinesius,  Gruter, 
Scaliger,  Earl  of  Arundel,  ii.  37o.  37S 
—  Falconieri,  iv.  20—  Pinelli,  ii.  349  — 
Academy  of  Ancient,  i.  42. 


S76 


INDEX. 


Inserts.    General    History    of,    iii.    411- 

413. 
Jusulis,  Gualterug  de,  Latin  poetry  of.  i. 

94. 
Intellectual  capacity,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  121 

—  Gassendi's  theories,  iv.  75 —  System 
of  the  Universe  by  Cudworth,  66-70, 
94,  note  —  remarks  of  Norton  on,  69, 
note. 

Iphigenie  of  Racine,  iv.  250. 

Ireland,  history  of,  i.  29  ;  ii.  888  — learn- 
ing in  the  monasteries  of,  i.  29. 

Irenreus,  character  of  his  works,  ii.  405. 

Jrnerius,  labors  of,  i.  82-84. 

Jscanus,  Joseph,  leonine  rhymes  of,  i. 
94. 

Isidore  of  Seville,  i.  26.  28  ;  iii.  140. 

Italy,  Greek  learning,  i.  103,  107,  201,  202 

—  academies  of,  234,  466,  467  ;  ii.  350; 
iii.  339,  436  — libraries  of,  i.  469  (see 
"Libraries") — universities  of,  ii.  295, 
346;  iii.  13  — Latin  poetry,  i.  204,  427; 
ii.  294;   iii.  265;   iv.  240  — poetry  and 
poets,  i.  63.  174,  205,  234,  411 ;  ii.  181- 
199;  iii.  221 ;  iv.  211  —  prose  literature, 
i.  175 ;  ii.  281 ;  iv.  276— comedy .  i.  430 ; 
ii.  246;   iv.  244  — tragedy,  i.  431;    ii. 
245 ;  iii.  271 ;  i v.  244  —  opera  and  melo- 
drame,  ii.  248  —  novels,  and  works  of 
fiction,  303;   iii.  368  — writers  on  mo- 
rals, ii.  132  — criticism,  i.  444;  ii.  186, 
292  — Tuscan  dialect,  i.  444,  467  ;   ii. 
191;  iii.  340  — eminent  scholars,  i.  332 

—  restraints  on  the  press,  ii.  354  —  col- 
lections of  antiquities,  349  —  decline  of 
learning  and  taste  in,  i.  231 ;   iii.  335 

—  spread  of  the  Reformation  in,  i.  365- 
867 — Arianism  in,  368  —  comparison 
of  Italian  and  Spanish  writing,  443  — 
comparison  of  Italian  and  English,  ii. 
237. 

Jackson,  the  English  commentator,  ii. 
437. 

James  I.,  literature  and  philosophy  in  the 
reign  of,  ii.  51 ;  iii.  245,  264,  332,  354  — 
his  Apology  for  the  Oath  of  Allegiance, 
ii.  383  —  principles  of  government  in 
the  reign  of,  iii.  158  —  the  Anabaptists 
punished  by,  ii.  85 — the  Bible  trans- 
lated into  English  by  the  authority  of, 
445. 

James  I.  of  Scotland,  his  poem,  the 
King's  Quair,  i.  141. 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  her  Essays  on  the  Female 
Characters  of  Shakspeare,  iii.  306  — 
Lives  of  the  Poets,  iii.  255,  note. 

Jamyn,  Amadis,  the  poet,  ii.  212. 

Jansenism,  rise  of,  ii.  416. 

Jansenists,  the,  ii.  82  ;  iv.  11  —  their  con- 
troversy with  Rome,  34,  36  —  writings 
of  Arnauld,  37  —  persecutions  of  the,  ib. 

—  their  casuistry  opposed  to  that  of  the 
Jesuits,  iii.  132;  iv.  36  — their  polite 
literature,  277. 


JOHNSON. 

Janseniuft,  Bishop  of  Ypres,  il.  82  —  his 
Augustinus,  ii.  416;  iv.  34 — its  con- 
demnation, 35. 

Janua  Linguarum  Reserata  of  Comenius, 
ii.  358,  859,  note  1. 

Jarchi's  Commentary  on  the  Pentateuch, 
i.  202. 

Jauregui,  his  translation  of  the  Auiiuta 
of  Tasso,  ii.  203,  note  *. 

Jebb's  edition  of  Aristides,  ii.  30. 

Jenkinson.  Anthony,  his  travels  in  Russia 
and  Persia,  ii.  342. 

Jens,  Zuchary,  supposed  inventor  of  the 
telescope,  iii.  406. 

Jerusalem  of  Tasso,  ii.  193. 

Jessamine  introduced  into  Europe,  iii.  441. 

Jesuits,  bull  of  Paul  111.  establishing 
their  order,  i.  370  —  their  rapid  popula- 
rity, ii. —  their  unpopularity,  ii.  388  — 
their  casuistical  writings,  iii.  135-138; 
iv.  146  —  colleges  and  scholastic  esta- 
blishments of  the,  ii.  35,  70,  71  —  Latin 
poetry  of,  iv.  240 — satire  upon  the,  iii. 
374  —  their  corruption  of  morality,  135 

—  then*  missionaries  in  China,  ii.  341 ; 
iii.  429  —  their  colleges  in  France,  iv.  11 

—  seminaries  at  Rome,  ii.  72  —  writings 
of  Molina  and  Lessius,  83;   iv.  35  (see 
also  ii.  222  ;   iv.  36,  277)  — their  learn- 
ing, ii.  35  ;  iv.  11 — their  rapid  i»< 

ii.  71,  341 — course  of  study  and  patron- 
age by  the  popes,  73  —  their  encroach- 
ments, 74  —  advocates  of  tyrannicide, 
144—  their  influence,  70,  74,  388. 

Jewel's  Apology,  ii.  91  —  Defence  of  the 
Apology,  65,  91 — lectures  in  rhetoric  at 
Oxford  by,  49,  note. 

Jew  of  Malta,  play  of,  ii.  265. 

Jewish  Letters  of  Argens,  iv.  314. 

Jews,  their  theory  of  natural  law,  1.  211 ; 
iii.  23— the  Cabala,  i.  212,  297  — Ca- 
balistic and  Rabbinical  authors,  iii.  23 

—  invention  of  Hebrew  vowel-points, 
iii.  426  —  their  history,  427  —  their  laws, 
iv.  343. 

Joachim,  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  i.  293. 

Joan,  Pope,  apotheosis  of,  i.  227. 

Jobert,  his  La  Science  des  Medailles,  iv.  21. 

Jodelle,  dramatist  and  poet,  ii.  212 — tra- 
gedies by,  257  —  comedies  of,  258. 

Johannes  Secundus,  i.  429. 

John  the  Giganticide,  popular  tale  of,  iii 
226,  note. 

John  Malpaghino,  or  John  of  Ravenna 
i.  102. 

John  II.,  King  of  Castile,  favors  learning 
i.  138. 

John  XXI.,  Pope,  logic  of.  i.  40,  note  «. 

John  of  8]iin>.  printer,  i.  173. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  his  Lives  of  th« 
Poets,  iv.  223,  225,  note.  231,  236  — re 
marks  on  Deiiham.  iii.  247,  note — on 
(Wlcy,  249;  iv.  299  — on  Shakspeaw> 
iii .  305  —  liis  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Brown* 
151,  note  *. 


INDEX. 


377 


JOHNSON. 

Johnson,  the  Seven  Champions  of  Chris- 
tendom by,  ii.  309. 

Joinville,  De,  ancient  manuscript-letter  of, 
i.  77  and  note  *. 

Jonsou,  Bea,  his  Every  Man  in  his  Hu- 
mor, merit  of,  ii.  280  —  Every  Man  out 
of  his  Hucior,  289  —  his  minor  poetry, 
iii.  258  —  his  plays,  307  —  the  Alchemist, 
ib.  —  Volpone,  or  the  Fox,  ib.  —  the 
Silent  Woman,  308  —  pastoral  drama 
of  the  Sad  Shepherd,  258,  261,  309  — 
his  Discoveries  made  upon  Men  and 
Matter,  362  —  English  grammar  by,  ib. 

Jonston,  Arthur,  his  Deliciae  Poetarum 
Scotorum,  iii.  268  —  his  Psalms,  ib. 

Jonston.  Natural  History  of  Animals  by, 
iii.  412:  iv.  327. 

Jortiu's  Life  of  Erasmus,  i.  296. 

Joubert,  eminent  in  medicine,  at  Montpel- 
lier,  ii.  337. 

Journal  des  S^avans,  iv.  291,  292. 

Jouvancy,  Latin  orations  of,  iv.  11. 

Jovius,  Paulus,  his  history  of  Roman 
fishes,  i.  461,  465. 

Juda,  Leo,  Latin  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures by,  i.  382. 

Judicium  de  Stylo  Historico  of  Scioppius, 
ii.  370. 

Jugemens  des  Scavans,  Baillet's,  iv.  296. 

Julian  Calendar,  ii.  320  —  invention  of 
the  cycle  of  the.  by  Scaliger,  64,  65, 
379. 

Julie  d'Angennes,  iii.  346,  371  —  the  Gar- 
land of  Julia,  346. 

Juugius,  his  Isagoge  Phytoscopica,  iv. 
329. 

Juiiius,  Francis,  version  of  Scripture  by, 
ii.  103,  338. 

Junius,  Hadrian,  lexicon  of,  i.  347. 

Jurieu,  polemical  writer,  iv.  53,  note, 
295. 

Jurisprudence,  civil  or  Roman  law,  i.  86, 
407  ;  iii.  176  ;  iv.  208  — the  golden  age 
of.  ii.  168-173  —  natural  jurisprudence, 
iii^  215.  See  "  Law." 

Justinian,  Code  and  Pandects,  i.  81,  408; 
iv.  209  — novels  of,  i.  82. 

Juvenal,  i.  203. 

Kaimes,  Lord,  his  commentary  on  Shak- 
speare,  iii.  306. 

Kant,  the  metaphysician,  iv.  134,  note, 
136. 

K'Sstner,  the  mathematician,  i.  27,  note  2, 
129,  note  »,  448,  note. 

Kempis.  Thomas  a,  i.  126  —  treatise  by, 
De  Iinitatione  Christi,  controversy  re- 
specting. 151,  152. 

Kepler,  his  Tabulse  Rodolphinse,  ii.  319  — 
his  logarithms,  iii.  381  —  his  new  geo- 
metry, ib.  —  his  Stereometria  Doliorum, 
381  —  his  Commentaries  on  the  Planet 
Mars,  391  —  and  astronomical  discove- 
ries, 391,  392  —  his  discoveries  in  op- 
tics, 405  —  on  gravitation,  397 


LANCELOT. 

King,  Gregory,  on  the  political  state  of 
England,  iv.  207. 

King  and  Xo  King,  play  of,  iii.  312. 

Kings,  the  popes  claim  the  power  of  de- 
posing, ii.  95  —  engagements  of,  to  their 
subjects,  139-146  ;  iii.  195, 199  — nature 
of  sovereign  power,  ii.  153, 159 :  iii.  154, 
168,  183  — opinion  of  Puffeudorf,  iv. 
IS5. 

Kircher,  Athanasius,  the  Mundus  Subter- 
terraneus  of,  iv.  336  —  on  China.  344. 

Knight  of  the  Burniug  Pestle,  play  of,  iii. 
320. 

Knolles,  his  grammar,  ii.  52  —  Histciy  of 
the  Turks,  ib. ,  iii.  355. 

Knott,  the  Jesuit,  writings  of,  ii.  406. 

Knowledge,  Hobbes's  definition  of,  iii 
112. 

Koornhert,  Theodore,  advocate  of  tolera 
tion,  ii.  89,424;  iii.  242. 

Koran,  the,  by  Pagninus,  i.  463 ;  ii.  340  — 
by  Marracci,  a  fine  edition  of,  iv.  343. 

Kuster,  Greek  scholar,  ii.  359. 

Kyd,  tragedies  and  poems  of,  ii.  268  and 
note*. 

Labbe,  Philip,  ii  361,  435. 

La  Bruyere,  the  Characters  ofiiv.  174. 

Lacepede.  M.,  zoology  of,  ii.  329. 

La  Croix  du  Maine,  ii.  301,  353. 

La  Croze.  M..  reviewer,  iv.  294. 

Laetus,  Pomponius,  i.  176,  220 ;  ii.  56. 

La  Fare,  poet,  iv.  220. 

La  Fayette,  Countess  de,  her  novels,  iv. 

308. 
La    Fontaine,    Fables    of,    iv.    216,    217, 

note. 

La  Forge  of  Saumur,  iv.  79. 
La    Fosse,    his   tragedy  of  Manlius,   iv. 

255. 
LaHarpe,  criticisms  of,  ii.  213;  iii.  370, 

iv.  58,  217,  220,  255,  284. 
Lainezer,  French  poet,  iv.  220. 
La  Mothe  le  Vayer.  dialogues,  &c.,  of,  51. 

444;   iii.  147.  148,  157  — remarks  by, 

on  the  style  of  the  French  language, 

351. 
La  Noue,  political  and  military  discourse* 

of,  ii.  148,  304,  note  2. 
La  Placette,  his  Essais  de  Morale,  iv.  150, 

169. 
Lalemandet,  Decisiones  Philosophicae  of. 

iii.  14. 
Lamb,  Charles,  Specimens  of  Early  Eng 

lish  Poets,  ii.  265,  note  1. 
Lambert  of  Aschaffenburg,  i.  89. 
Lambeth  Articles  of  Whitjrift,  ii.  412. 
Lambinus,  his  Horace,  ii.  22  — his  Cicero, 

23  —  his    Plautus,    Demosthenes,    and 

Lucretius,  ib. 
Lami,  Rhetoric,  or  Art  of  Speaking,  of,  iv. 

283. 
Lancelot,  author  of  the  Port-Royal  Greek 

grammar,  ii    29  ;   iv.  11  —  hifl  French 

grammar,  283. 


378 


INDEX. 


LANCILOTTI. 

Lancilotti,  his  L'Hoggidi,  or  To-day,  iii. 

438,439. 

Landino,  critic,  i.  176, 190. 
Lanfranc,  Archbishop,   and  his  schools, 
i.  36,  90,  91,  92— knowledge  of  Greek 
by,  112. 

Langius,  Rodolph,  i.  194. 
Language,  Hobbes  on  the  origin  and  abuse 
of.  iii.  106,  117,  123— origin  of  the 
French,  Italian,  and  Spanish,  i.  42,  46, 
63 —  on  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  English, 
64  —  Armenian,  463  —  Arabic,  ib.  — 
Ethiopic,  ib.  —  Chaldee  and  Syriac, 
462,463;  iii.  427  — French,  i.  219;  ii. 
300;  iii.  349,  351;  iv.  277,  284  — Ger- 
man, iii.  239  —  Greek,  i.  112  ;  ii.  300  — 
Hebrew,  i.  462;  iii.  424  — Italian,  i. 
42,  46,  63;  ii.  294;  iii.  336— Spanish, 
i.  416  — Tuscan,  444,  467;  ii.  191  — 
Oriental,  i.  266.  318,  463;  ii.  337;  iii. 
424;  iv.  342— Persian,  ii.  340  —  Tamul 
and  Indian,  iv.  344  —  researches  of  Du- 
cange,  Le  Boeuf,  Bonamy,  Muratori, 
and  Raynouard,  on,  i.  42,  48  —  Dalgar- 
no's  idea  of  an  universal  language,  iv. 
121  —  Locke's  methods  for  acquiring, 
180  —  Bouhours'  remarks  on,  284,286 
—  comparison  of  ancient  and  modern, 
284  —  Fabricius  on  the  language  of 
brutes,  iii.  413.  See  "Greek,"  "He- 
brew," "  Latin,"  "  Grammar,"  "  Lexi- 
con," &c.,  &c. 

Languet,  Hubert,  Vindicise  contra  Tyran- 

nos  usually  ascribed  to,  ii.  136,  138  — 

republican  notions  of,  142  —  theories  of, 

repudiated,  iii.  155. 

Lapide,  Cornelius  a,  Commentaries  of,  ii. 

435. 

Larivey,  French  comedies  by,  ii.  260. 
Larroque,  M.,  Avis  aux  Refugiez  attri- 
buted to,  iv.  202. 
La  Rue,  French  sermons  of,  iv.  55. 
Lasca,  novels  of,  ii.  304. 
Lascaris,  Coustantine,  i.  162  —  his  Greek 

Grammar,  181. 
Lascaris,  John,  Greek  Grammar  of,  i.  272, 

and  note  l. 
Latimer,  William,  Greek  scholar,  i.  241, 

279. 

Latimer,  sermons  by,  i.  375  ;  iii.  354. 
Latin  poetry  of  the  dark  ages,  i.  33  —  Latin 
of  the  best  ancient  authors,  42  —  low 
Latin,  ib..  43  —  poets  and  poetry  (mo- 
dern), 204,  273,  427  ;  ii.  239,  242,  294 ; 
iii.  264-270;  iv.  240  — plays,  i.  220,  227, 
436 ;  iii.  266  —  vulgar  dialect,  i.  42  — 
editions  of  classics,  181,  237,  467 ;  ii.  14, 
26,  364;  iv.  10,  12  — early  editions  of 
Latin  authors,  i.  335 :  ii.  21,  52  —  Latin 
•writers,  i.  239;  ii.  369— progress  of 
Latin  style,  i.  101,  279,  440 :  ii.  33,  34, 
239,  373:  iv.  11  —  state  of  classic  learn- 
ing, ii.  33,  43 :  iv.  10  —  comparison  of 
cultivation  of.  in  England  and  on  the 
Continent,  ii.  53  —  Latinity  of  the  se- 


LKARKIXO. 

yenteenth  century,  369-375  —  Locke's 
method  of  teaching,  iv.  180  —  Latin 
metres  imitated  in  the  modern  lan- 
guages, ii.  192,  213.  227  — Latin  com- 
pared with  French  and  Italian,  iv.  284. 
See  "Learning,"  "  Language." 

Latiui.  Brunette,  philosophical  treatise  of, 
i.  58, 134. 

Latinus  Latinius,  his  classical  eminence, 
ii.  43. 

Latitudinarians,  tenets  of  the,  ii.  414 ;  iv. 
40. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  ii.  391,  409,  423  — his 
addition  to  the  Bodleian  Librarv,  iii. 
435. 

Laura,  Petrarch's,  real  existence  of,  dis- 
puted, ii.  295. 

Laurentian  Library,  i.  187  —  purchased, 
468. 

Law,  early  MS.  books  of,  on  parchment, 
i.  80,  81  —  legal  studies  facilitated,  ib.  — 
unwritten  feudal  customs  reduced  into 
treatises  ;  Roman  and  Civil ;  Codes  of 
Theodosius  and  Justinian,  81,  82, 408  — 
study  of  Civil,  ii.  170;  iv.  186,  194  — 
not  countenanced  in  France,  ii.  173  —  of 
nations,  174,  176:  iii.  177  ;  iv.  187,  210 

—  writers  on  Roman  Jurisprudence,  ii. 
171;   iii.  177  —  on  Public  Law  by  Vic- 
toria, ii.  174  — Eternal,   iii.  140  — Re- 
vealed, 181  —  on  the  Law  of  Nature,  ii. 
126 ;  iii.  144  166, 180 ;  iv.  153, 160, 165, 
186,  188,  210  —  writers  on  Jurispru 
dence,  ii.  168-174  —  Canon  Law,  174  — 
Suarez,  De  Legibus,  iii.  138,  142,  159, 
177 — Leibnitz  on   Roman,   iv.   208  — 
Spencer,  De  Legibus  Hebraeorum,  343 

—  French  lawyers,  ii.  171- 
Layamon,   peculiarities  in  the  works  of, 

i.  66  and  note. 
Lazarillo  de  Tonnes,  by  Mendoza,  i.  439 ; 

ii.  306  and  note. 
League,  Catholic  tenets  of  the,  ii.  142-145 

—  Satire  Menippee  upon  the,  286. 
Leake,  Col.,  Researches  hi  the  Slorea,  i. 

113,  note  s. 

Learning,  retrospect  of,  in  the  middle 
ages,  i.  25  —  loss  of,  on  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire  of  the  W<>3*,  26  —  its 
rapid  decline  in  the  sixth  century,  27  — 
the  church  an  asylum  for,  ib.  —  pnifaiiu 
learning  obnoxious  to  the  Christian 
priesthood,  28;  their  influence  in  the 
preservation  of,  29  —  clerical  education 
revived  in  the  monasteries  of  Ireland, 
ib.  —  classical  learning  revived  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Church  and  at  York,  ib. 
29,33  —  its  progress  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, 31,  32  —  circumstances  that  led 
to  the  revival  of,  34  — in  the  fifteenth 
century,  123  —  progress  of  polite  learn 
ing,  arts,  and  sciences,  ii.  47  :  iii-  34 , 
iv.  14  — decline  of,  ii.  35,  44— effect* 
of  the  Reformation  on,  i.  307,  339 
resistance  to,  293  — theological,  ii.  385! 


INDEX. 


379 


LE  BCEUP. 

435 ;  of  England,  47 ;  iv  14 ;  i.  265, 
341,346  — Germany,  216.  237,  340;  ii. 
35,  36;  iv.  11  — Italy,  ii.  43  — Spain, 
i.  339;  Scotland,  282;  ii.  54. 

\JL  Boeuf,  researches  of,  i.  42,  45,  note  *. 

Lebrixa,  Nebrissensis,  i.  186,  339. 

Ix;  Clerc,  John,  criticisms  of,  iv.  14,  39, 
62  —  his  commentary  on  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  Bibliotheques  Universelle. 
&c.,  39  —  support  of  Cudworth  by,  68 

—  his  series  of  Reviews,  293  —  his  Parr- 
hasiana,  297  —  on  the  Duties  of  Eccle- 
siastical Historians,  ii.  94  —  defence  of 
Grotius  by,  414  —  Critique    du    Pere 
Simon  by,  iv.  46  —  his  influence  over 
Protestant  Europe,  202. 

Lee,  dramatic  works  of,  iv.  271. 

Leeuwenhoek,  experiments  of,  on  the 
blood,  iv.  339  —  discovery  of  spermatic 
animalcules,  340. 

Legend,  Golden,  i.  147. 

Leger's  supposed  forgeries,  i.  50,  note. 

L'Enclos.  Ninon,  iv.  220. 

Lc  Grand,  metaphysician,  iv.  79. 

Leibnitz,  observations  of,  i.  320 ;  ii.  119 ; 
Ui.  66, 100 ;  iv.  136  —  his  correspondence 
•with  Bossuet  on  an  agreement  in  reli- 
gion, 31  — On  Roman  law,  208,  209; 
ii.  119  -Protogaea  of,  iv.  337  — his  ad- 
miration of  Bacon,  iii.  72. 

Leicester,  Earl  of,  charges  against  Oxford 
University  by,  ii.  49,  note  —  press  of,  51 

—  dramatic  company  of,  263. 
Leigh's  Oritica  Sacra,  ii.  437. 

Leipsic  press,   the,   i.   237  —  the  Leipsio 

Acts,  first  German  Review,  iv.  294. 
Le  Long,  Polyglot  of,  iv.  342. 
Le  Maistre,  forensic  speeches  of,  iii.  353 ; 

iv.  56. 

Lemene,  Italian  poet,  iv.  214. 
Lemery,  his  Cours  de  Chymie,  iv.  325. 
Leo  Africanus,   travels  in  Africa  by,  ii. 

340. 

Leo  X-,  the  patron  of  the  literati  of  his 
age,  i.  272,  297,  322,  430,  466  — his  au- 
thority attacked  by  Luther,  299,  300. 
Leon,  Fra  Luis  Ponce  de,   poetry  of,   ii. 

200. 
Leonard  of  Pisa,  algebraist,  i.  450,  note  a ; 

ii.  313,  315,  note. 

Leonicenus,  Nicolas,  physician,  i.  455. 
Leonicenus,  Omnibonus,  the  critic,  i.  188. 
Leonine  rhymes,  i.  94. 
Lepidus,  comedy  attributed  to,  and  other 

works  of,  i.  227. 
Lenninier,   Hist.  Gen.   Droit  by,  ii.  167, 

note;  iv.  208,  209. 
Leroy,   Canon  of  Rouen,   satire   on   the 

League  by,  ii.  286. 
Le  Sage,  Gil  Bias  of,  ii.  306 ;  iii.  368. 
L'Estrange,  Sir  Roger,  jEsop's  Fables  by, 

iv.  298. 
Leslie,  his  Short  Method  with  the  Deists, 

iv.  62. 
I*«8  casuistical  writings  of,  iii.  137. 


Le  Toumeur,  dramatist,  iii.  334. 

Leunclavius,  his  version  of  Xenophon, 
ii.  21. 

Levasseur,  acquainted  with  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood,  i.  458;  iii.  418, 
note. 

Levita,  Elias,  the  learned  Jew,  i.  462 ;  iii. 
426. 

Lexicons,  i.  231,  &c. 

Lexicons,  Arabic,  iii.  428  —  Armenian,  429 

—  Chaldee.  i.  462  —  German,  iii.  435  — 
Greek,  Meursius,  ii.  363  — Barret's,  50 

—  Craston,   i.   181,   231  —  Phavorinus, 
332  — Philemon,  »'*.  —  Scapula,  ii.  27  — 
Gesner,  i.  335,  note  -  —  Hadrian,  347  — 
Constantin,  ii.  25,  51  — H.  Stevens,  24 

—  Morell.  50  —  Hebrew,  i.  462;   iii.  427 

—  Syriac,  427;   ii.  337  —  Pentaglotton, 
iii.  425  —  Heptaglotton,  iv.  342.    See 
"  Dictionaries." 

Leyden,  University  of.  ii.  347  —  professors 
of,  iii.  428— the  library  at,  ii.  348;  iii. 
428,435. 

Libanius  copied  by  Ben  Jonson,  iii.  309, 
note. 

Liberty,  civil,  defined  by  Locke,  iv.  194, 
195. 

Liberty,  natural,  iii.  166  —  religious,  ii. 
425.  See  "Law." 

Libraries  —  of  Alcala,  i.  469 ;  ii.  348  — 
Aungerville,  i.  124  —  Augsburg,  468  — 
Bodleian,  ii.  348 ;  iii.  433  —  Cambridge, 
ii.  348  — Cranmer,  i.  348  —  Cc-rvinus  at 
Buda,  176  —  Duke  of  Gloucester,  124 ; 
ii.  348  — Mr.  Hunter  on  English  mo- 
nastic, i.  124,  note  4  —  under  Edward 
VI..  348  — of  Florence,  120,  187,  469; 
ii.  347  —  Ferrara,  i.469;  ii.  347  — Grol- 
lier,  i.  339  —  Heidelberg,  ii.  347  —  Italy, 
i.  469  —  Rome,  ii.  347  —  Leyden,  ii.  348 ; 
iii.  428,  435  — Paris,  i.  9"7 ;  ii.  348  — 
Nicolas  V.,  i.  157  —  Sion  College,  iii.  435 

—  Salamanca,   ii.   348 — Strasbourg,   i. 
468  — Vatican,  157,  468;   ii.  347  — Vi- 
enna, i.  4G9  ;   ii.  347  — Venice,  i.  469  — 
Dr.  Williams's,  ii.  175. 

Liburnio.  his  Volgari  Eleganzie,  i.  444. 

Liceto,  Fortunio,  iii.  15. 

Life  is  a  Dream,  tragi-comedy  of  Calderon, 

iii.  273,  275. 
Lightfoot,  biblical  works  of,  ii.  437 ;  iii 

427. 

Lilius,  mathematician,  ii.  320. 
Lily,  dramatic  writer,  ii.  268,  273,  note. 
Lilly,  writings  of,  i.  279  —  his  Euphues, 

288-290  ;  iii.  233,  248 
Limborch,  an  Arminian  divine,  w.  38,  51, 

53. 
Linacre,  eminent  English  physician,  i.  241, 

265,  280,  note  2,  455  — works  of,  342. 
Lincean  Academy  at  Rome,  iii.  394,  437. 
Lincy,  M.  Le  Roux  de,  Documens  Inedit* 

of,  i.  50,  note  "-. 
Linen-paper  used  in  1100,  i.  76  —  in  1302, 

79. 


380 


INDEX. 


Linnaeus,  his  classification  of  animals,  ii- 
326;  iii.  412;  iv.  327— his  Critica  Bo- 
tanica,  331. 

Lipsius,  Justus,  his  Polybius  and  Tacitus, 
ii.  21  —  on  the  Roman  military  system, 
69  —  on  Roman  antiquities,  60  —  his 
style,  37,  42,  and  note  3,  358— he  re- 
nounces the  Protestant  creed,  91  —  the 
Politic*  of,  148. 

Lirinensis,  Vmcentius,  ii.  407. 

Liron  on  the  origin  of  the  French  lan- 
guage, i.  45,  note  l  — remarks  of,  ii.  328, 
notes, 

Lisle,  De,  his  map  of  the  world,  iv.  345. 

Lisuianiu,  Polish  edition  of  Scriptures  by, 
ii.  104. 

Lister,  Dr.,  his  Synopsis  Conchy  liorum.iv. 
328  —  on  botany,  335  —  on  geology,  337. 

Literary  correspondence,  ii.  353. 

Literature  in  the  middle  ages  to  the  end 
of  fourteenth  century,  i.  25-102  —  from 
1400  to  1440,  103-155  — from  1440  to 
the  close  of  fifteenth  century,  157-259  — 
from  1500  to  1520,  260  324  —  from  1520 
to  1550,  325-350  —  theological  litera- 
ture, 351-382  ;  ii.  66-104,  382-446 ;  iv. 
24-62  —  moral  and  political,  specu- 
lative philosophy,  and  jurisprudence, 
i.  383-410;  ii.  105-122,  123-180;  iii. 
11, 125, 131-220 ;  iv.  63-146, 146-211  — 
literature  of  taste  and  poetry,  i.  411- 
447;  ii.  181-244;  in.  221-270;  iv.  211- 
243 — scientific  and  miscellaneous,  i. 
448-469 ;  ii.  311-356  ;  iii.  377-410,  411- 
442,  324-354  —  ancient  literature,  ii. 
13-65,  357-381;  iv.  9-23  —  dramatic, 
ii.  245-280;  iii.  271-334;  iv.  244-275— 
prose,  ii.  281-310 ;  iii.  335-376 ;  iv.  276- 
318. 

Liturgy,  Anglican,  by  Whitaker,  ii.  49. 

Livy,  his  History,  ii.  69  —  commentary 
on,  ib. 

Lluyd's  maps  of  England  in  1569,  ii.  344. 

Lobel,  the  Stirpium  Adversaria  of,  ii.  332 ; 
iii.  416. 

Lobeyra,  Vascd  de,  his  Amadis  de  Gaul, 
i.  148,  313 ;  iii.  369. 

Loci  Communes,  or  theological  systems. 
i.  85.  359 :  ii.  97. 

Loci  Theologici,  ii.  98. 

Locke,  John,  his  philosophy,  iii.  91 ;  iv. 
45,  101  —  his  Letter  on  Toleration,  63, 
55,  and  note  —  his  originality,  and  love 
of  truth,  139  —  his  Essay  on  the  Human 
Understanding,  iii.  91,  129;  iv.  77,  122, 
123,  note,  et  stq.  —  his  Conduct  of  the 
Understanding,  iv.  144  —  merits  of  his 
Treatise  on  Education.  175  —  its  de- 
fects, 176  —  on  Government,  ii.  147 ; 
iv.  194-201  — on  the  Coinage,  205  — his 
exile,  202  —  on  the  imperfection  and 
abuse  of  words,  143  —  observations  on 
his  style  by  Sir  \V.  Hamilton  and  Mr. 
Mill,  129,  note  ',304  — his  Logic,  76,  77, 


LOWER.    — 

Lockhart,  Mr.,  Spanish  ballads  of,  ii.  208, 

note  1, 

Lodbrog,  Regner,  song  of,  i.  33. 
Lodge,  poems  and  plays  of,  ii.  221,  268. 
Logarithms,  invention  of,  by  Napier,  iii. 

Logic  of  Cassiodorus,  i.  27,  note  —  the  Pa- 
risian school  of,  37  —  science  of,  383  — 
treatises  on,  iii.  15  —  the  Aristotelian 
method,  ii.  118 ;  iii.  21,  114,  115,  note ; 
iv.  64  — of  Descartes,  ii.  117;  iii.  78, 
note  2,  94  — of  Gassendi,  30;  iv.  71-75, 
81  —  of  Hobbes,iii.  127  — of  JeanSilvaiu 
Regis,  iv.  79  —  the  Port-Koyal  Art  de 
Penser,  iv.  65, 81, 82, 127  —  of  Locke,  76. 
122,  et  seq. — of  Xizolius,  ii.  118  — of 
Aconcio,  117  — of  Ramus,  i.  388,  389, 
390;  ii.  121;  iii.  12  — of  Bacon, 'ii.  117: 
iii.  31-62;  iv.  146-177  — of  Wai  Us,  60 

—  of  Wilson,  ii.  301 — syllogistic  logic, 
iii.  69,  note,  128,  129,  note. 

Logos,  the  Trinitarian  controversy-iv.  44. 

Lohenstein,  imitator  of  Ovicl,  iv.  222. 

Lombard,  Peter,  theology  of,  i.  36,  note  s. 

Lombards,  the  national  literature  of,  iii. 
221. 

Longinus,  translation  by  Boileau  of,  iv. 
291. 

Longolius,  Latin  scholar,  i.  279  :  ii.  374. 

Longomontanus,  scientific  writings  of,  ii. 
320. 

Looking-glass  for  London,  play  of,  ii.  268. 

Lope  de  Rueda,  dramatic  writer,  i.  432. 

Lope  de  Vega,  ii.  203,  250. 

Lord's  Prayer,  the,  in  forty  languages,  11 
340. 

Lorenzo,  Italian  poetry  of,  1.  206. 

Lorenzo  de  Medici,  printing-press  of,  i. 
181  —  library  of.  187  —  description  of  his 
villa  at  Fiesole,  188, 189  —  his  character, 
188. 

Lothaire,  school  under,  i.  30. 

Lotichius,  German  poet  in  Latin,  ii.  239, 
notes  ',  8. 

Louis  of  Germany,  oath  of,  i.  46. 

Louis  the  Debonair,  i.  30. 

Louis  III.,  victory  of,  i.  33. 

Louis  XIII.,  popularity  of  infidel  princi- 
ples in  the  court  of,  ii.  444  —  high  culti- 
vation of  his  court,  iii.  237  —  theatrics  J 
representations  during  his  reign,  281. 

Louis  XIV.,  iv.  11  —  high  refinement  of 
French  language  in  the  reign  of,  1"  — 
his  dispute  with  Innocent  XI.,  24  —  hi» 
reign,  181,  242  —  poets  and  literati  of 
his  age,  172,  219,  242,  277,  279,  281  — 
Edict  of  Nantes  revoked  by,  28,  52. 

Louvsiin,  College  of,  i.  277  —  Bible  of, 
revised  by  command  of  Charles  V., 
382. 

Love,  the  theme  of  ancient  minstrels,  i.  69 

—  Hobbes's  notion  of,  iii.  120. 
Love  for  Love,  play  of,  iv.  274. 
Lovclacp,  poetry  of,  iii.  260;  iv.  223. 
Lower,  anatomical  researches  of,  iv.  339. 


DvDEX. 


381 


LOYOLA. 

Loyola,  Ignatius,  followers  of,  i.  332 — 
founder  of  the  order  of  Jesuits,  369; 
ii.  72 :  iii.  136. 

Loyal  Subject,  play  of,  iii.  315.  316. 

Luca,  Fra,  algebraist,  i.  4">2. 

Lucan,  Pharsalia  of,  i.  188  :  iv.224,  287  — 
May's  supplement,  iii.  269. 

Lucian,  true  history  of,  iv.  307.  310. 

Ludolf  'a  account  of  Abyssinia,  iv.  344. 

Lulii,  the  musical  composer,  iv.  265. 

Lully,  Raymond,  his  new  method  of 
reasoning,  i.  o20-321  —  extolled  by  Bru- 
no, ii.  114. 

Luscinius,  Greek  scholar,  i.  277. 

Luther,  Martin,  his  thesis  as  to  Indul- 
gences and  Purgatory,  i.  299  —  popula- 
rity of,  300 — comparison  between,  and 
Zwingle,  301,  354  —  Archdeacon  Hare 
on  the  tenets  of.  304-307.  note  — his 
translation  of  the  New  Testament  in 
1522,  361,  380  —  Robertson's  picture. 
371  —  account  of  his  dangerous  tenets, 
303 — explanation  of  his  doctrines.  303, 
304;  ii.  97.  412  — his  writings,  i.  301, 
note,  307.  371,  373  — satires  on,  436  — 
his  controversy  with  Erasmus,  357  — 
his  style  of  preaching,  359  —  Confession 
of  Augsburg.  355  —  his  character,  371 
—  his  hymns.  372  —  his  critical  opinions, 
iii.  425,  note  - — Lutheran  principles  of 
the  Italian  writers,  i.  365  —  of  the 
Spaniards,  369  —  of  the  Germans,  iv.  31. 

Lutherans,  charges  of  Erasmus  against,  i. 
307,  note  i —  their  disputes  with  the 
Helvetian  reformers,  363  —  hostility  be- 
tween the  Lutheran  and  Calvinistic 
churches,  ii.  79  —  hymns  of,  364  — 
churches  of,  392.  412.  441;  iii.  241  — 
sacred  criticism  of,  ii.  436. 

Lutrin,  the,  of  Boileau,  iv.  219. 

Lycophron,  Cassandra  of,  iii.  235. 

Lycosthenes,  Conrad,  ii.  353. 

Lydgate,  his  poems,  i.  141.  316,  424.     ' 

Lydiat,  chronology  of,  ii.  379. 

Lyndsay,  Sir  David,  merit  of  his  poems, 
"  i.  42l,  436. 

Lyon,  Mr.,  the  founder  of  Harrow  School, 
ii.  51. 

Lyons,  the  press  at,  i.  237. 

Lyric  poetry,  ii.  190,  note  1;  iii.  226 ;  iv. 
213. 

Lysias,  Athenian  orator,  ii.  52. 

Maani,  Lady,  an  Assyrian  Christian, 
travels  and  adventures  of,  iii.  430. 

Macarius,  Greek  lexicon  compiled  by,  i. 
110,  note  *. 

Macaronic  poetry,  invention  of,  ii.  192. 

M'Crie,  Dr.,  History  of  the  Reformation  in 
Spain  by,  i.  187,  note,  365,  notes,  368, 
369,  notes. 

M'Culloch,  Mr.,  observations  of,  iv.  204, 
note  l. 

Machiavel,  Nicolas,  his  writings  in  politi- 
cal philosophy,;  400  — his  treatise  of 


MAI  EBRATfCHE. 

the  Prince,  401;  ii.  134;  ifl.  149  — 
appointed  secretary  of  government  at 
Florence,  i.  401  —  sought  the  patronage 
of  Julian  de  Medici,  ib.  —  prol^able  in- 
fluences that  governed  him,  402  —  cha- 
racter of  his  maxim?,  ib.  —  palliation 
of  the  doctrines  in  his  Prince,  ib.  —  type 
of  his  Prince,  ii.  293  —  his  Discourses 
on  Livy.  i.  404  —  leading  principles  of, 
404  —  permanence,  the  object  of  his 
system  of  government,  ib.  —  influence 
of  his  writings,  405  —  his  History  of 
Florence,  its  luminous  development, 
408;  ii.  384  — his  dramas,  i.  266  — his 
Mandragola  and  Clitia,  comedies  ,'430; 
ii.  280  — his  Belphegor,  i.  438  — com- 
parison of  Bodin's  Republic  with.  ii. 
166  — his  taste  and  diction,  282  — the 
Golden  Ass  from  Apuleius  translated 
by,  ib. 

Mackenzie,  Sir  George,  Essays  of,  iv.  304. 

Mackintosh.  Sir  James,  on  the  Law  of  Na- 
tions, iii.  212.  219  — remarks  on  Cum- 
berland, iv.  164.  165. 

Madden.  Sir  Frederic,  on  the  orthography 
of  Shakspeare,  ii.  269,  note  *. 

Madness,  Hobbes  on,  iife  123. 

Madrigals,  beauty  of  the  old.  ii.  226. 

Maestlin,  the  mathematician,  ii.  319,  320. 

Maffei.  History  of  India  by,  ii.  342. 

Magalotti.  letters  of.  iv.  276. 

Magdeburgenses,  Centuriae,  ii.  99. 

Magdeburg,  siege  of,  poem  on,  ii.  239. 

Magdelenet,  French  lyric  poet,  iii.  265, 
note. 

Magellan,  circumnavigator,  i.  464;  ii.  341. 

Maggi,  poems  of,  iv.  214. 

Magic,  writers  on,  iii.  23. 

Magistrates,  duty  of,  ii.  156. 

Magnen.  theories  of,  iii.  21. 

Magnetism,  medical,  iii.  423. 

Magnetism,  terrestrial,  ii.  324. 

Magno,  Celio.  the  Iddio  of,  iv.  213. 

Maid's  Metamorphosis,  play  of.  ii.  273. 

Maid's  Tragedy,  play  of,  iii".  310,  311, 317. 

Maillard,  sermons  of,  i.  375. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  iv.  251. 

Mairet,  French  dramatist,  iii  282  —  his 
Sophonisbe.  288. 

Maitland's  Letter  on  the  Dark  Ages,  i.  "54, 
note, 

Maitre  Patelin,  a  French  farce,  i.  220, 
note  «,  226. 

Maittaire,  his  Life  of  Henry  Stephens,  ii. 
23,  note  2  —  on  Scapula,  27,  note  >. 

Malaga,  collegiate  institution  at,  i.  39. 

Malala,  John,  Chronicle  of,  iv.  17. 

Maldonat,  his  Commentaries  on  the  Evan- 
gelists, ii.  99. 

Malebranche.  his  imitation  of  Descartes, 
iii.  76  — his  Traite  de  la  Nature  et  la 
CrSce,  iv.  37  —  Lettres  du  Pere  Ma!<?- 
branche,  ib.  —  his  Recherche  de  la 
Verite,  85 — his  character,  99  —  com- 
pared with  Pascal,  100. 


382 


INDEX. 


MALERBI. 

Malerbi,  the  Venetian,  translation  of  the 

Bible  by,  i.  184,  381. 
Malherbe,  French  poetry  of,  iii.  235-238 ; 

iv.  219  —  his  gallantry  towards  Mary  de 

Medicis,  iii.  230. 
Malleville,  French  poet,  iii.  238. 
Nailery's  La  Morte  d'Arthur,  ii.  310. 
Malpiesbury,  William  of,  history  by,i.  89, 

note.  , 
Malone's  Shakspeare,  ii.  271,  note  ',  273  ; 

iii.  299.  305  —  remarks  on  Dryden,  iv. 

300,  note,  301. 
Malpighi,  botanical  works  of,  iv.  328,  335 

—  experiments  on  the  blood,  340. 
Maltlms,  theory  of,  on  population,  iii.  65. 
Mambriano,  poem  of  Francesco  Bello,  i. 

236. 
Man,    natural    history   of,  iii.   413  —  his 

state,  47,  165  :    iv.  48,  49,   50,  151  — 

his  soul,  iii.  84, 85 ;  iv.  72,  75, 137, 138, 

(see  "  Philosophy  ")  —  human    nature 

of,  49,  et  seg.  —  metaphysical  inquiry 

regarding,  ii.  107 ;  iv.  44. 
Mancinellus,  commentator,  ii.  22. 
Mancini,  Hortense,  Duchess  of  Mazarin, 

iv.  281. 

Mandeville,  Sir  Johm  the  Travels  of,  i.  270. 
Manet  ti,  Gionozzo,  i.  117. 
Manfredi,  the  Semiramis  of,  ii.  245. 
Manley,  Mrs.,  statements  of,   examined, 

iv.  316,  note. 

Manners,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  124. 
Mantua,  Church  of  St.  Andrew  at,  i.  227, 

note  s. 
Mantua,  house  of,  patrons  of  learning, 

i.  234. 
Mantuan,   Baptista,  Latin  poet,  i.  232; 

ii.  294. 
Manuscript,  Greek,  of  the  Lord's  Prayer 

in  eighth  century,  i.  107,  note  '. 
Manuscripts,  at  Ley  den,  iii.  428  —  in  the 

Bodleian  Library,  ib.  —  Chinese  MSS.  ib. 

—  Greek,  i.  194. 

Manutius,  Aldus,  i.  230 ;  ii.  43.  See  "  Al- 
dus." 

Manutius,  Aldus,  the  younger,  i.  230  — 
library  of.  ii.  349,  note  1. 

Manutius,  Paulus  (Paolo  Manuzio),  the 
eminent  scholar,  i.  328,  330 ;  ii.  43,  56, 
282,  374  — his  valuable  edition  of  Ci- 
cero, i.  330  —  Epistles  of,  on  Roman 
laws,  ii.  40,  56  — De  Civitate,.  56— on 
Cicero,  iv.  10. 

Manzolli,  his  Zodiacus  Vitse,  i.  366,  429. 

Maphaeus,  History  of  India  by,  ii.  41  — 
continuation  of  the  JEueid  by,  i.  204  ; 
ii.  294,  374. 

Maps,  geographical,  a  criterion  of  pro- 
gress in  the  science,  iii.  431  —  early 
charts,  i.  201,  464,  note  2  ;  ii.  342- 
345;  iv.  344 — early  engravings  of,  i. 
201. 

Marana,  John  Paul,  author  of  the  Turk- 
ish Spy,  iv.  315-817  and  note. 

Mnninta  on  medicinal  plants,  ii.  830 


Marbles,  sculptures,  and  bronzes,  ii.  349 

—  the  Arundelian  marbles,  376. 
Marburg  University,  i.  341  —  botanical 

garden  of,  459. 
Marcellinus  Ammianus,  edition  of,  by  Va- 

lois,  iv.  14. 
Marcgraf,  his  Natural  llistory  of  Brazil. 

iii.  412. 
Marco  Polo,  the  celebrated  horse  of  Fa- 

bretti,  iv.  20. 
Marco  Polo,   Travels  of,  i.  270,  463;   ii. 

341. 

Marculfus,  grammatical  rules  of,  i.  44. 
Mariana,  his  de  Rege,  ii.  144-146:  iii.  155 

—  History  of  Spain  by,  ii.  348,  note  i. 
Marini,  Giovanni  Battista,  bad   taste  of 

his  school,  iii.  223,  248,  249,  265 ;  iv. 
211,  226  — his  Adone,  iii.  223  — story 
of  Psyche,  225. 

Markland,  publication  of  the  Chester  Mys- 
teries by,  i.  224,  note  s. 

Marlianus  on  the  topography  of  ancient 
Rome,  i.  331 ;  ii.  56  —  his  Fasti  Consu- 
lares,  i.  331. 

Marlowe,  plays  of,  iii.  290 —  his  Come  live 
with  me.  ii.  221  —  the  Hero  and  Leander 
of  Musaeus  not  translated  by  him,  226 

—  Tamburlaine,   264  —  Jew  of  Malta, 
265  —  Mephistopheles,  ti.  —  Edward 
II.,  ib. 

Marmocchini's  translation  of  the  Scrip 

tures,  i.  381. 
Marot.   Clement,   simplicity  of  his  style, 

i.  4l8 ;  iii.  238 ;  iv  216. 
Marracci,  professor,  a  fine  edition  of  the 

Koran  bv,  iv.  343. 
Marriage,   Grotius  on,  iii.  188  —  Puffen 

dorf  on,  iv.  171. 

Mars,  the  planet,  eccentricity  of,  iii.  391. 
Marsham,  Sir  John,  his  Canon  chronicua 

.fligyptiacus,  iv.  23. 
Marston.   satires  by,   ii.  225  —  dramatic 

works  of,  iii.  333. 
Marsupini.  i.  118. 

Martelli,  his  tragedy  of  Tullia,  i.  431. 
Martial  d'Auvergne,  his  Vigiles  de  la  Mort 

de  Charles  VII.,  i.  219. 
Martianay  on  Chronology,  iv.  22 
Martyr,  Peter,  epistles  of,  on  the  discove- 
ry" of  America,  i.  322  —  anachronisms  of, 

323,  note. 

Martyr,  zoology  of,  ii.  327,  328. 
Marullus,  Latin  poems  of.  i.  233:  ii.  294. 
Marvell,  Andrew,  satires  of,  iv.  234,  233. 
Mary  1.  of  England,  education  of,  i.346  — 

her  reign   unfavorable   to  learning,  ii. 

47, 139,  286. 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  ii.  139,  210. 
Masearon.  the  French  divine,  iv.  65. 
Masdeu's  Hist.   Critica  d'Espaiia,  i.  135, 

note. 
Maseres.  mathematical  works  of,  ii.  313, 

note  '. 

M:i.<ius,  the  learned  Hebraist,  ii.  338,  ncte  » 
Massa  of  Venice,  anatomist,  i.  459 


rsmx. 


383 


Massmger,  PhUip,  his  Virgin  Martyr,  iii. 
325, 329  —  general  nature  of  his  dramas, 
328 —  his  delineations  of  character,  ib. 

—  his  subjects,   327  —  beauty  of  his 
style.   328  —  his  comic   powers,  ib.  — 
his  tragedies,  ib.  —  his  other  plays.  329 

—  hi*  character  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach, 
327.  329  —  critique  on  ib. :  iv.  259. 

Ma.--or.ih,  the,  of  Levita.  i  452. 

JJateria  Medica,  on,  ii.  332,  336 ;  iii. 
411. 

Mathematical  and  physical  sciences,  the, 
i.  126,  170,  227,  448 ;  ii.  311-324  ;  iii. 
377  —  mathematical  propositions,  ib. — 
De  Augnientis  Scientiarum  of  Lord 
Bacon,  iii.  38,  66  —  mathematics  of 
Descartes,  101  —  mathematician?,  i. 
131:  iv.  31S  — works,  i.  227  — truths, 
iv.  134,  note. 

Mathews,  Charles,  comedian,  iii.  274, 
note  1. 

Mathias,  edition  of  Gray  by,  i.  53,  note  *. 

Matthew  Paris,  hUtory  by.  i.  222,  note  l. 

Matthews's  Bible  of  1537,"  i.  380. 

Matthiae,  Preface  to  his  Greek  Grammar, 
ii.  29.  note  2. 

Matthioli,  his  botanical  Commentaries  on 
Dioscorides.  i.  460. 

Maurice,  Elector  of  Saxony,  deserts  the 
Protestant  confederacy,  ii.  81. 

Maurolycus,  geometrician,  ii.  317  —  his 
optical  tests.  321 :  iii.  406. 

Maximilian,  Emperor,  patronizes  learning, 
i.  293. 

Maxims  of  Rochefoucault,  iii.  369  ;  ir. 
172,  173. 

May.  supplement  to  Lucan  by,  iii.  269  — 
history  of  the  Parliament  by.  359. 

Maynard,  elegance  of  his  French  poetrr, 
iii.  237. 

Mayow,  Essays  of,  iv.  324  —  on  Respira- 
tion. 340. 

Mazarin,  Cardinal,  attempts  to  establish 
an  Italian  opera  at  Paris,  ir.  265. 

Mazarin  Bible,  the.  i.  167  —  its  beauty 
and  scarcity,  it. 

Mazochius,  the  Roman  bookseller,  i.  331. 

Mazzoni,  his  treatise  de  Trinlici  Vita,  ii. 
132  — his  defence  of  Dante.  298. 

Mead,  medical  theory  of.  iv.  341. 

Mechanics,  true  principles  of  the  laws  of, 
discovered  by  Galileo,  iii.  399  —  of  Des- 
cartes, 403  —  writers  on.  ii.  321. 

Meckerlin.  German  poet,  iii.  240. 

Medals,  authors  on,  ii.  62:  iv.  21  — col- 
lections of  gems  and,  U.  349.  See 
••  Numisnv 

Mede  on  the  Apocalypse,  ii.  437. 

Medici,  Cosmo  de.  a  patron  of  learning 
and  the  art-,  i.  162.  K>3 :  ii.  298  — his 
rule  arbitrary  and  jealous,  354  —  death 
of,  i.  174. 

Medici,  Lorenzo  de.  i.  174.  1S7.  202,  205. 
208  — character  of.  1SS  —  villa  of,  ib. 
botanical  gardens  established  by,  459- 


MEXDOZA. 

Medici,  house  of,  ii.  330  —  expulsion  of 
the.  from  Florence,  ua  14&*.  i.  231. 

Medicine,  science  of.  i.  454  —  the  Greek* 
the  founders  and  best  teachers  of,  ib.  — 
anatomy  and  medicine,  ii.  334 ;  iii.  416 ; 
iv.  33S  —  progress  towards  accurate 
investigation,  n.  336  —  transfusion  of 
the  blood,  iv.  339  —  medical  theories, 
341  —  innovations  in.  i.  454. 

Me-iicis.  Marie  de,  ii.  249 ;  iii.  236. 

Megiser,  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  forty  lan- 
guages by,  ii.  340. 

Menus  on  the  Florentine  literati,  i.  102.— 
his  Life  of  Traversari,  98- 

Meigret,  Louis,  French  grammar  of.  L 
445. 

Meiners,  comparison  of  the  middle  agea 
bv.  i.  27.  31,  37,  note  i,  101.  and  note 

—  hia  Life  of  Ulric  von  Hutten,  297 
298,  and  notes. 

Meister-singers  of  Germany,  i.  61,  419; 
iii.  240. 

Mela.  PomponiuB,  geographv  by,  i 
232. 

Melanchthon.  the  reformer,  i.  2i  i  :  ii.  80, 
438  —  early  studies  of.  i.  264  —  a  pro- 
moter of  learning,  341 :  iii.  14  —  his 
advocacy  of  Aristotle,  i.  387  —  guide  to 
the  composition  of  sermons  by.  ii.  438 

—  his  advice  to  Luther,  i.  353.  354.  and 
notes — his  Loci  Communes,  303.  note  ', 
363,   note  \   374 ;    ii.   97  —  views   on 
baptism,  i.  353,  note  *  —  Latin  poetry 
of.  429  —  his  approbation  of  the  death 
of  Servetus.  ii.  87  — style  of  his  works, 
33  —  his  adversaries.  8l  —  chronicle  by, 
i.  465  — ethics  of,  398  — purity  of  dic- 
tion and  classical  taste  of,  337  —  his 
tenets,  ii.  80,  412  —  stvle  of  preaching, 
438— his  death,  81. 

Melanges  de  litterature,  by  d'Argonne, 
IT.  297,  298. 

Melchior,  Adam,  the  German  biographer, 
ii.  34. 

Melville,  Andrew,  ii.  54.  121,  242. 

Memoirs,  political,  ii.  147. 

Memoirs,  French,  iii.  34S :  iv.  346. 

Memory,  the.  theory  of.  iii.  84.  103. 

Mena.  Juan  de  la.  i.  267 :  ii.  298. 

Mena.  Christopher  de  la.  iii.  232. 

Menage.  Latin  poems  of,  iv.  241,  308  —  on 
the  French  language,  283.  292  — Mena- 
giana,  297. 

Mendicant  friars,  their  disputations  pro 
moted  scholastic  philcsophy,  i.  40  — 
then-  superstitions  caused  the  return 
01  ignorance,  96  —  their  contention 
with  Erasmus  and  Reuchlin,  297-299  — 
•satirized  by  the  regular  monks.  \~j). 

Mendoza,  Diego.  Spanish  poet  and  states- 
man, i.  41o:  ii.  3)6:  iii.  229  —  his 
Lazarillo  de  Tonnes,  i.  439. 

Mendoza,  his  History  of  the  War  of  Gra- 
nada, iii.  432  —  Jlistory  of  China  by 
ii.  342. 


384 


INDEX. 


MEDINA  E  MOCA. 

Meniua  e  Moca,  early  Portuguese  romance 

in  prose,  i.  418. 

Menochius,  De  Praesumptionibus,  iii.  176. 
Meuot,  sermons  of,  i.  375. 
Menzini,  Benedetto,  poems  of,  iv.  214. 
Mephistopheles  of  Marlowe,  ii.  265. 
Mercator,  Gerard,  his  charts,  ii.  344. 
Merchant  Taylors'  School,  statutes  of,  ii. 

60. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  comedy  of,  ii.  278. 
Mercure  Galant,  the,  by  Vise,  iv.  292. 
Mercury,  transits  of,  iii.  399. 
Meres,  ii.  271,  note  2  —  Wit's  Treasury  of, 

278,  note;  iii.  256,  note. 
Merian,  voyages  to  the  Indies  by;  ii.  342. 
Mermaid  Club,  account  of  the,  iii.  306. 
Merovingian  period,  barbarism  of,  i.  30. 
Mersenue,  works  of,  iii.  384,  389,  note,  400 

—  writings  of,  against  Descartes,  82. 
Merula,  criticisms  of,  i.  187. 
Mesmerism,  modern,  iv.  120,  note  l. 
Metallurgy,  i.  461. 
Metaphysical  poetry,  iii.  247. 
Metaphysics,  iii.  44,  46,  74.    See  "  Philo- 
sophy." 

Metastasio,  style  of,  ii.  248. 
Metius  of  Alkinaer,  iii.  406. 
Metonic  cycle,  ii.  64. 
Metre  and  rhythm,  on,  i.  52 — of  modern 

language,  51. 
Meursius,  writings  of,  ii.  363 ;  iv.  20  —  on 

Grecian  antiquities,  ii.  377. 
Mexico,  natural  history  of,  by  Hernando 

d'Oviedo,  ii.  330. 
Mezeray,   the  first   general   historian  of 

France,  iii.  432. 
Michael  Angelo,  iv.  130,  note. 
Michel,    M.,    his    Theatre    Francaise   au 

Moyen  Age^  i.  56,  note. 
Micheli,  Venetian  ambassador,  ii.  67. 
Mickle's  translation  of  the  Lusiad  of  Ca- 

moens,  ii.  205. 
Microscope,  the  invention  of,  iii.  407 ;  iv. 

340. 
Micyllus,  De  Re  Metrica,  i.  341  — Latin 

poetry  of,  429. 
Middle   ages   defined,   i.   247  —  eminent 

scholars  of  the,  37  —  literature  of  the, 

26. 

Middleton,  plays  of,  iii.  334. 
Midgley.  Dr..  continuator  of  the  Turkish 

Spy,  iv.  316.  note,  317,  note. 
Mill's  System  of  Logic,  iv.  129,  note  ». 
Milling.  Abbot  of  Westminster,  i.  240. 
Millington,  Sir  Thomas,  iv.  334. 
Milner,  Isaac,  prejudices  and  partialities 

of,  as  to  the  Reformation,  i.  301-304, 

notes. 
Milton,  John,   Paradise  Regained   of,   i. 

236 ;   iv.  231  —  his  Comus,  iii.   261  — 

Lycidas,  ib.  —  the  Allegro  and  II  Pen- 

se'roso,  203  — Ode  on  the  Nativity,  250, 

notes,  263  — his  Sonnets,  ii.  187;   iii. 

263  — his  discernment.  248  — his  Ari- 

auisui,  IT.  224  —  h8  Latin  poems,  Hi. 


MON8TRELET. 

265,  note  2,  269;  iv.  243-  his>  contro- 
versy with  Salmasius.  ii.  308  —  his  Pa- 
radise Lost,  iii.  267,  271 ;  iv.  224-230  — 
the  polemical  writings  of,  iii.  359 ;  iv. 
43  —  his  Tractate  on  Education,  175 — • 
compared  with  Homer,  226  —  Dante, 
227  — elevation  of  his  style,  228  — hia 
blindness,  229  —  his  passion  for  music, 
230  —  his  progress  to  fame,  ib.  —  cri- 
tique on,  231,  232  —  Samson  Agonistes 
of,  232. 

Mind,  the  human,  iv.  110, 112  (see  "  Phi- 
losophy ")  —  Spinosa  on  the,  112. 

Mineralogy,  i.  461  —  of  England,  iv. 
337. 

Minerva  of  Sanctius,  a  grammatical  trea- 
tise, ii.  37. 

Minnesingers  of  Germany,  i.  59. 

Miraine,  tragedy  of,  by  Hardy,  iii.  281. 

Miranda,  Saa  di,  Portuguese  poet,  i.  417. 

Mirrour  of  Magistrates,  the,  a  collection 
of  stories,  ii.  217  —  Induction  to,  by 
Sackville,  ib.,  262. 

Misogonus,  an  early  comedy,  ii.  261. 

Mistress  of  Philarete,  play  of,  iii.  259. 

Mithridate,  by  Racine,  beauties  of  the 
composition,  iv.  249. 

Mitscherlich,  discoveries  of,  iii.  55. 

Modena,  Academy  of,  i.  367;   ii.  295,  350 

—  allusions  to  the  history  of,  iii.  225, 
228. 

Molanus,  German  controvertist,  iv.  31. 
Moliere,  his  genius  and  dramatic  works. 
ii.  260,  280,  note  — his  L'Avare,  iv.  256 

—  L'Ecole  des  Femmes,  257  —  Le  Mis- 
anthrope, 258 —  Les  Femmes  Savantes, 
259 — Les   Precieuses   Ridicules,    ib. — 
Tartuffe,  ib. ;  Bourgeoise  Gentilhomme, 
260  —  George  Dandin,   ib.  —  character 
of  his  works,  261  —  L'Etourdi,  256. 

Molina,  his  treatise  on  Free-will,  ii.  83  — 
his  Semi-Pelagian  doctrine,  ib.  note  2, 
416  — his  tenets,  iv.  34. 

Molza,  Italian  poet,  i.  429  —  his  Latin 
poetry,  ib. 

Monarchia  Solipsorum,  a  satire  on  the 
Jesuits,  iii.  374. 

Monarchy,  observations  of  Bodin  on,  ii. 
154,  165  (see  "King")  — Puffendorfs 
theory  of,  iv.  189. 

Monasteries,  suppression  of.  i.  348  —  de- 
struction of,  no  injury  to  learning,  ib. 

—  in  Ireland,  29. 

Money  and  coin,  on,  iv.  170,  205  —  mone- 
tary writings,  iii.  162. 

Monk,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  iv.  15  — 
Life  of  Bentley  by,  17, 18, 19,  and  notes, 
39,  note,  307,  'note  >. 

Monks  attacked  by  Erasmus,  i.  296  —  de- 
spised in  Germany  and  Switzerland, 
307  —  various  religious  orders  of,  in  the 
twelfth  century  ,94  —  invectives  against, 
by  Manzolli  aiTd  Alamanni,  366  —  by 
Reuchlin.  297. 

Monstrelet,  historical  works  of,  i.  246. 


INDEX. 


385 


Montagu,  Basil,  remarks  of,  on  Bacon,  iii. 
82.  33.  notes.  52.  72.  note  ». 

Montagu,  Mrs.j  her  Essay,  iii.  306. 

Montaigne,  Essays  of.  ii".  126.  284  — their 
characteristics,  127  —  his  brilliant  ge- 
nius, 128  —  his  sprightly  ana  rapid 
thoughts,  ib.  —  his  independent  spirit, 
it.  —  his  love  of  ancient  authors,  A. — 
his  critical  opinions,  ib.  —  his  good 
sense,  129 — his  moral  scepticism,  130  — 
animadversions  upon,  131  —  the  charm 
of  simplicity  in  his  writings,  131,  356  — 
allusions  to.  i.  154 ;  ii.  18 ;  iv.  47,  300 
—  his  infidelity  questioned,  ii.  101  — 
his  egotism,  131  —  school  of^  iii.  147. 

Montanus,  Arias,  ii.  103  —  Antwerp  Poly- 
glot by,  338. 

Montausier,  Duke  de,  suggests  the  Del- 
phine  editions  of  the  classics,  iv.  12. 

Montausier.  Madame,  funeral  sermon  on, 
by  Flechier,  iv.  58.  note  1. 

Montemayor.  the  Diana  of.  ii.  202.  305. 

Montesquieu,  the  Grandeur  et  Deca- 
dence of,  iii.  156  —  L'Esprit  des  Loix, 

Montfaucon,  references  to  his  authority, 
i.  76. 

Montluc,  memoirs  of.  ii.  346. 

Montpellier,  school  of  medicine  at,  i.  42. 

Montpellier.  botanical  garden  of.  ii.  330. 

Montucla,  quoted,  i.  171,  448,  450;  ii. 
313,  318.  321  — on  the  microscope,  iii. 
406  —  Histoire  des  Mathematiques, 
377,  note. 

Moon,  the.  Wilkins's  Discovery  of  a  Xew 
World  in,  iv.  305. 

Moore's  History  of  Ireland,  i.  29,  note. 

Moors  of  Spain,  Conde:s  history  of  the,  ii. 
307  —  Moorish  romances,  i.  242 ;  ii.  207 ; 
iii.  229.  note  1.  See  "  Romance." 

Moral  fictions  popular  with  the  aristo- 
cracy, i.  148. 

Moral  philosophy,  writers  on,  iv.  146. 

Moralities,  dramatic,  i.  226  —  in  France, 
226,  433  — in  England,  226  — used  as 
religious  satire.  436. 

Morals,  Italian  writers  on,  ii.  132  —  Eng- 
lish writers,  ib.  —  Jesuitical  scheme  of, 
iii.  134-137  —  theories  of  Hobbes  and 
Grotius.  146. 

More,  Henry,  on  witchcraft,  iv.  62  —  his 
metaphysical  philosophy,  iii.  84  and 
note;  rr.  70,  101. 

More.  Sir  Thomas,  i.  241,  279.  Soo  —  His- 
tory of  Edward  V.  by,  317.  443  — his 
Utopia,  and  derivation  of  the  word, 
283.  note  s. 

Morel.  John,  his  lexicon,  ii.  50. 

Morel.  William,  his  edition  of  Tergarars 
grammar,  ii.  28. 

Moreri,  French  dictionary  of,  iv.  295. 

Morgan,  Professor  de,  on  geometrical 
errors,  i.  448,  note  i. 

Morgante  Maggiore  of  Pulci,  i.  206;  iii. 
226. 

VOL.  IV.  25 


MYSTICISM. 

Morhof,  quotations  from  the  Polvhistor 
of,  i.  204,  321,  341 ;  H.  28,  106,  359. 
note  i;  iii.  13:  iv.  203,  296. 

Morin,  Protestant  theologian,  iii.  425. 

Morison,  Dr.,  professor  of  botany,  iv.  329 

—  his  works,  330. 

Mornay,  Du  Plessis,  writings  of,  ii.  90, 

387,  392,  note. 

Morosina.  sonnets  on  the  death  of,  i.  412. 
Mosellanus,  Peter,  i.  278,  340,  355. 
Moses,  his  authorship  of  the  Pentateuch 

questioned,  iv.  46  —  Mosaic  history  of 

the  Deluge,   &c.,   336,  337  —  institu- 
tions. 343. 
Moshenn.  his  Ecclesiastical  History,  i.  35, 

303 :  ii.  91,  99 ;  iv.  35.  note. 
Mothe  le  Vayer,  La,  his  Dialogues,  ii.  444; 

iii.  147,  157  —  on  French  eloquence, 

iii.  351. 
Mouffet,   his  Theatrum  Insectorum,   iii. 

412. 

Mousset,  French  poet.  ii.  214,  note  *. 
Mulgrave,  Lord,  Essay  on  Poetry  by,  ir. 

288,  note  *  —  poems  of,  234,  239. 
Mun,  Thomas,  on  foreign  trade,  iii.  164 ; 

iv.  204. 
Munday,  Anthony,  translator  of  Amadis 

de  Gaul  and  other  romances,  i.  312; 

ii.  309. 
Mundinus,  anatomical  works  of,  i.  132, 

270,  456. 
Munster,  Sebastian,   Oriental   scholar,  i. 

382,  462,  464. 

Munster,  German  schools  at,  i.  238. 
Muratori,  Dissertations,  &c.,  of,  quoted, 

i.  27,  note,  So.  note,  42,  49,  81  i  175  :   ii. 

182,  183.  185,  187,  note  — Delia  PerfetU 

Poesia,  iii.  221,  note,  224,  note  *. 
Muretus,   Marc  Antony,  the  Yariae  Lec- 

tiones  of,  ii.  19,  366 — diversity  of  his 

subjects,  20  —  orations  of.  38  —  his  Latin 

style,  ib.,  240  — on  the  Massacre  of  St. 

Bartholomew,  39,  note  l. 
Musa.   Arabian,   treatise  on  algebra  bv, 

ii.  312,  note  ». 
Musaj     Anglicanae,    collection    of    Latin 

poems,  iv.  243. 
Musaeus,   editions  and  translations  of.  L 

230  ;  ii.  226,  293. 
Musculus,    Wolfgang,  theological  writer, 

ii.  97,  99. 
Music,  science  of.  i.  27  —  church,  ii.  248, 

note  l  —  operatic,  ii.  —  the  melodrama, 

249. 
Musurus,    Marcus,    the    eminent    Greek 

scholar,  i.  231,  272. 
Mvsteries,  desire  of  man   to  explore,   i. 

"210. 
Mvsteries.  dramatic,  their  origin,  i.  221  — 

of  France.  224.  433 :  ii.  257  —  of  Spain, 

i.  266 ;  ii.  257  —  of  England,  i.  435  —  of 

Germany,  226  —  the  Chester,  224,  note 

—  the  Townley,  ib. 

Mystical  medicines  of  Paracelsus,  iii.  423. 
Mysticism,  on,  iii.  23'.  iv.  44. 


386 


IXDEX. 


Mystics  of  the  Roman  Church,  iv.  44. 
Mythology,  writers  on,  ii.  62. 

Naharro,  Torres,  Spanish  comedies  of,  i. 

432. 

Names,  on  the  use  of,  iii.  108,  109,  111. 
Nantes,  Edict  of,  ii.  90,  423— revocation 

of  the  Edict  of,  iv.  28,  52. 
Nanteuil,  epigram  on  a  portrait  by,  iii. 

372,  note  l. 
Napier,  John,  his  invention  of  logarithms, 

iii.  378  — his  tables,  380. 
Naples,  academy  of  men  of  learning  at, 

i.  119,  234. 

Nardi,  history  by,  i.  465. 
Nardini,  Roma  Antica  of.  ii.  376 ;  iv.  20. 
Nash,  dramatic  author,  ii.  264,  note  a,  268, 

291. 

Natalis  Comes,  Mythologia  of,  ii.  16. 
Nations,    rights   of,   iii.    196,   204.     See 

"  Law." 
Natural  history,  progress  of  the  study  of, 

i.  459 ;  ii  325 ;  iii.  411 ;  iv.  325. 
Nature,  law  of.  iv.  153,  160,  167— phe- 
nomena of.  167  —  Hobbes  on  the  laws 

of,  iii.   166-168  —  Grotius  on,    180  — 

Puffendorf  on,  iv.  165-171,  186,  188. 
Naude,  Gabriel,  his  Considerations  sur  les 

Coups-d'fitat,  iii.  157  —  his  Naudaeana, 

ii.  444,  note ;  iii.  15 ;  iv.  297. 
Naugerius,  Latin  poet,  i.  429. 
Navarre,   Queen   of,   Histoire  des  Amans 

Fortunes  of,  ii.  304. 
Navigation,  art  of,  by  Baldi,  ii.  190. 
Neander,  Michael,  grammarian,  ii.   32  — 

Erotemata  Ling.  Hebraew  of,  338. 
Netherlands,  persecution  of  Protestants  in 

the,  i.  369. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  works  of,  iii.  39,  408 ; 

iv.  323  —  his  Principia,  137  —  definition 

of  algebra  by,  ii.  316  —  the  Newtonian 

system,  iii.  397-399 — his  discoveries  in 

chemistry,  iv.  323. 

Newton,  Ninian,  edition  of  Cicero  by,  ii.  53. 
Nibelungen,  the  Lay  of  the,  i.  60. 
Niccoli,  citizen  of  Florence,  i.  120, 182. 
Nicene  faith,  the,  iv.  43. 
Niceron,  le  Pere,  biographical  works  of, 

i.  327,  note  ;  ii.  24,  note  »,  132,  note. 
Nicholas  V.,  Pope,  a  patron  of  learning, 

i.  157  —  character  of,   ib.  —  Letters  of 

Indulgence  by,  168  —  library  of,   176, 

note  2. 

Nicolas  of  Ragusa,  i.  194. 
Nicole    on    the    Protestant    controversy, 

&c.,  iv.  29,  37,  81— Essais  de  Morale, 

150. 
Niebuhr    on    the    antiquities    of    Rome, 

quoted,  ii.  57,  note  l. 
Nieuhoff,  account  of  China  by,  iv.  346. 
Nile,  the  river,  ii.  343. 
Nizolius,  Marius,  lexicographer,  Observa- 

tiones  in  M.  T.  Ciceronern,  i.  330 ;    ii. 

374  —  his  principles  of  philosophy,  118, 


OROANtTM. 

Noah,  Seven  Precepts  of  the  Sons  ol,  Hi. 

145. 
Nominalists,  the,  i.  40  —  controversies  of 

195,  and  Realists,  196;  iii.  14. 
Noodt,  Gerard,  on  Usury,  iv.  210. 
Norman  poets  of  the  twelfth,  thirteenth, 

and  fourteenth  centuries,  i.  54. 
Norris,  Essay  on  the  Ideal  World  by,  iv 

101. 
North  Sea,  the,  English  discoveries  in,  ii 

342. 
Nosce  Teipsum,  poem  by  Sir  John  Davies 

ii.  224. 
Nott,  Dr.,  his  character  of  the  poets  Sur 

rey  and  Wyatt,  i.  422-427. 
Noue,  La,  Discourses  of,  ii.  148. 
Nouvelles  Nouvelles,  Cent,  i.  219. 
Novels,  Italian,  i.  438 ;   ii.  303;   iii.  369-. 

Spanish,  ii.  306,  307  ;  iii.  368  — French, 

i.  147,  219,  439 ;  ii.  304 ;  iv.  308. 
Nowell,    master    of  Westminster    School. 

i.  343;  ii.  91  —catechism  of,  49. 
Numismatics,  science  of,  ii.  61,  351 ;   ir 

21.     See  "  Coins." 
Nunnes  (or  Pincianus),  i.  339  —  his  Greek 

grammar,  ii.  29. 
Nut-brown  Maid,  the,  ballad  of,  i.  317. 

Oath  of  allegiance,  ii.  383. 

Oaths,  on,  iii.  135  —  promissory,  192. 

Obedience,  passive,  ii.  143 ;  iii.  155,  161, 

182. 

Oceana  of  Harrington,  iv.  192. 
Ochino,  Bernard,  the  Capuchin  preacher, 

i.  367. 

Ockham,  William,  i.  41, 196 ;  iii.  142. 
Ockland,  the  Anglorum  Prselia,  by,  ii.  243. 
Odyssey,  the,  iv.  311. 
(Ecolampadius,  the  reformer  and  scholar, 

i.  277,  302,  355,  360,  note ;   ii.  35— 

buried  in  Basle  Cathedral,  i.  361. 
Olaus  Magnus,  the  naturalist,  ii.  327. 
Old  Bachelor,  play  of,  iv.  273. 
Oldenburg,    editor    of   the    Philosophical 

Transactions,  &c.,  iv.  320. 
Oldham,  satirical  poetry  of,  iv.  234,  238. 
Olearius,  his  travels  in  Russia,  iii.  430. 
Oliva,  Perez  d',  a  moral  writer,  i.  397. 
Olivetan,  New  Testament  of,  i.  382. 
Onkelos,  Chaldee  paraphrase  of  the  Pen- 
tateuch by,  i.  319. 
Opera,  French,  iv.  265. 
Opera,  Italian,  ii.  248. 
Ophelia,  Shakspeare's  character  of,  iii.  318. 
Opitz,  German  lyric  poet,  iii.  240,  241,  and 

note;  iv.  222  — his  followers,  iii.  241. 
Oporinus,  scholar  and  printer,  ii.  34  —  his 

press  prohibited,  ii.  354. 
Optics,  science  of,  ii.  321;   iii.  405,  423  — 

dioptrics,  science  of,  408. 
Oracles,  History  of,  by  Fontenelle,  iv.  280. 
Oratory,  congregation  of  the  iv.  61. 
Orfeo,  drama  of,  by  Politian.  i.  221. 
Organnm,  Novum,  of  Bacon,  Boyle's  obaer* 

vations  on,  iv.  322.    See  "  Bacon." 


INDEX. 


387 


ORIENTAL  LITERATURE. 

Oriental  literature  and  languages,  i.  818, 
462;  ii.  337;  iii.  424;  iv.  342  — poetry, 
iii.  232. 

Orlando    Furioso  of  Ariosto  criticised,  i. 

309,  310,  313  ;  ii.  197. 

Orlando  Innamorato,  the,  of  Boiardo,  i. 
235,  310  — its  continuation  by  Agostini, 

310,  414  —  some    account  of    Berni's 
poem  of,  365  —  rewritten  by  Berni,  414 

—  Dornenichi's  alteration  of,  415. 
Ornithology,  writers  on,  iii.  411 ;  iv.  326. 
Orobio,  the  Jew,  on  the  prophecies,  iv.  51. 
Orrery,  Lord,  the  Parthenissa  of,  iv.  313. 
Ortelius,  geographical  treatises  by,  i.  466 

—  Theatrum  Orbis  Terrarum  of,  ii.  343- 
345. 

Ortiz,  Don  Sancho,  celebrated  tragedy  of, 
ii.  253,  254. 

Orto,  Decio  da,  tragedies  of,  ii.  245. 

Osborn's  Advice  to  his  Son,  iii.  152. 

Osorius,  Bishop,  his  treatise  De  Gloria, 
ii.  41. 

Ossory,  Lord,  satirical  poetry  of,  iv.  234. 

Ottfried,  turned  the  Gospels  into  German 
verse,  i.  58,  note  l. 

Otway,  dramatist,  poetry  of,  iv.  239  —  his 
Venice  Preserved,  255,  270  —  the  Or- 
phan, 270. 

Oughtred,  his  Clavis  Mathematica,  iii.  387, 
note  1. 

Overall,  Bishop,  his  Convocation  Book, 
iv.  193. 

Overbury,  Sir  Thomas,  his  Characters,  iii. 
362. 

Ovid,  imitated  by  Milton  in  his  Latin 
poems,  iii.  270 ;  iv.  226  —  his  Metamor- 
phoses excelled  by  the  Orlando  B'urioso, 
i.  313.  See  also  iii.  224,  235;  iv.  222, 
241,  302. 

Oviedo,  or  Gonzalo  Hernandez,  his  India, 
i.  465;  ii.  330,  341;  iii.  412. 

Owen,  Latin  epigrams  of,  iii.  268. 

Oxford,  University  of,  i.  35,  38,  39 ;  ii. 
347  —  created  its  own  patrons,  i.  38, 
39  —  books  given  to,  124  —  Greek  lec- 
tures, 281,  294,  note  —  the  university 
press,  ii.  61  —  lectures  in  Greek  and 
Latin  at,  i.  342  —  defective  state  of  the 
learning  of,  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
124—  Wood's  character  of,  346  —  Latin 
poetry  at,  iv.  243  —  the  Bodleian  Li- 
brary, ii.  348 ;  iii.  433. 

Pacioli,  Luca  di  Borgo,  algebraist,  i.  246. 
Paderborn,  school  of,  i.  89. 
Padua,   University  of,  i.  41,  319;   ii.  323, 
346,  349  —  schoolmen  of.  ii.  106;   iii.  15 

—  public  garden  of,  ii.  330. 
Psedotrophia,  poem  of,  ii.  241. 
Pagninus,  version  of  the  Evangile  by,  I. 

382  — ii.  103  — of  the  Koran  by,  i.  463; 

ii.   340 — translation  of  Scripture  by, 

i.  382,  462. 

Painter,  Palace  of  Pleasure  by   ii.  309. 
Painters,  the  Bolognese  school   ii.  198. 


PAPINIATf. 

Painting,  treatise  on,  by  Raffaelle  Bor 
ghino,  ii.  282. 

Palearius,  Aouius,  Latin  poem  of,  on  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul,  i.  429 ;  ii.  294. 

Palestrina,  church-music  improved  by,  ii. 
248,  note1 — its  influence  on  religion, 
249. 

Paley,  Dr.,  his  Moral  Philosophy,  iv.  163, 
164,  171  —  his  objections  to  Grotius, 
iii.  211  —  character  of,  iv.  171. 

Palgrave,  Sir  F.,  on  the  authenticity  of 
Ingulfus's  History  of  Croyland,  i.  49. 

Palingenius  Stellatus  (or  Manzolli),  i.  36ft 
429. 

Palingenius,  his  Zodiacus  Vitae,  i.  366, 
ii.  243. 

Palladius,  Danish  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures by,  i.  381. 

Pallavicino,  Ferrante,  writings  of,  ii.  385  ; 
iii.  339. 

Pallavicino,  Sforza,  iii.  341. 

Palmerin  of  Oliva,  romance,  i.  438;  ii 
304. 

Palmerin  of  England,  ii.  305  —  abridgment 
by  Sou  they,  ib. 

Palmieri,  the  Vita  Civile  of,  i.  175. 

Palsgrave's  French  grammar,  i.  445. 

Pancirollus,  his  Notitia  Dignitatum,  ii.  61. 

Pandects  of  Justinian,  i.  81,  408. 

Pandolfini.  his  moral  dialogue,  i.  175. 

Pani//,i,  i.  207,  note.  3  —  on  the  Orlando 
Innamorato,  i.  365,  note  3  —  on  the 
Mambriano,  236,  note  *  —  on  the  ex- 
temporaneous comedy,  iii.  274,  note1  — 
on  the  Amadigi  of  B.  Tasso,  ii.  191, 
note  l. 

Pannartz,  printing-press  of,  in  Italy,  i. 
173  _  petition  of,  252. 

Pantomime,  remarks  on,  iii.  274,  note  *. 

Panvinius,  Onuphrius,  ii.  40  —  his  learn 
ing,  66,  57  —  De  Ludis  Circengibus  of, 
60. 

Panzer,  Annales  Typographic!,  i.  172. 

Papal  influence  in  Europe,  ii.  75,  382- 
its  decline,  387 ;  iv.24—  Anglican  writ- 
ings against   Popery,   33  —  evaded  on 
north  side  of  the  Alps,  iii.  396  —  claims 
of,  ii.  95. 

Paper,  its  invention,  i.  75,  76  —  cotton 
paper  preceded  that  from  linen  rag,  76, 
charters  and  Papal  bulls  on  cotton 
paper,  ib.  —  first  used  in  the  Greek  Em- 
pire in  the  twelfth  century  for  MSS.,  ib. 
—  in  Italy  in  the  thirteenth,  ib.  — 
among  the  Saracens,  of  remoter  an- 
tiquity, ?6. —  called  Charta  Daiiiiiscona 
by  the  Arabian  literati,  ib.  —  linen  pa- 
per dated  from  A.n.  1100,  77  —  of 
mixed  materials,  78  —  excellence  of  the 
linen  paper  first  used  for  books  and 
printing.  81. 

Papias,  Latin  dictionary  of,  i.  91,  99  —  his 
Latin  version  of  some  lines  of  Hesiod, 
112. 

Papinian,  writer  on  jurisprudence,  ii.  171 


INDEX. 


Pappus,  the  geometer,  editions  of,  51.  317. 

Papyrus,  employed  for  all  documents  un- 
der Charlemagne,  i.  76  —  Egyptian,  ib. 

Paracelsus,  his  speculative  philosophy  In 
medicine  described,  i.  390. 456 ;  iii.  423  — 
school  of,  ii.  332;  iii.  22,  31;  iv.  341 

—  his  impostures  and  extravagances, 
iii.  31. 

Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices,  the,  ii.  216, 
217. 

Paradise  Lost,  iv.  224. 

Paradoxes,  Hobbes's,  ill.  120  —  of  Sir 
Thomas  Browne,  151. 

Parseus  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and 
the  divine  right  of  kings,  iii.  160. 

Parchments,  the  use  of  them  much  super- 
seded by  the  invention  of  paper,  i.  76 

—  their  expense,  ib.  — erasure  of  MSS. 
thereon,  for  the  sake  of  new  writings, 
ib.  —  monuments  of  learning  and  record 
thereby  lost,  ib.  —  restoration  of  some 
effected,  16.  —  law  MSS.  generally  on,  81. 

Par6,  Ambrose,  chirurgical  writer,  ii.  336. 

Parental  authority,  iii.  187  ;   iv.  196. 

Parfrey,  John,  his  mystery,  Candlemas 
Day,  i.  433. 

Paris,  University  of,  origin  of,  i.  35  —  its 
scholastic  philosophy,  ib.  36  —  its  in- 
crease, 37,  38, 333  —  first  Greek  press  at, 
261,  833  —  its  repute  for  philological 
pursuits,  ii,  17  —  Academy  of  Sciences, 
iv.  320  —  theatres  in,  ii.  260  —  the  Royal 
Library  of,  348  —  nominalists  of,  i.  195  — 
forbidden  to  confer  degrees  in  civil  law. 
ii.  173  — press  at,  i.  287.  See  "  France." 

Parker,  Archbishop,  ii.  65,  848. 

Parkinson,  his  Theatrum  Botanicum,  iii. 
416. 

Parliament,  English,  and  Constitution,  iv. 
197,  198,  199  — May's  History  of,  iii. 
859. 

Parmenides  on  heat  and  cold,  ii.  109. 

Parnaso  Espanol  of  Sedano,  ii.  199.  202  ; 
iii.  229. 

Parnaso  Italiano  of  Kubbi,  iii.  222  and 
note. 

Parnassus,  News  from,  by  Boccalini,  iii. 
337. 

Parrhasiana  of  Le  Clerc,  iv.  297. 

Paruta,  Paolo,  Discorsi  Politici  of,  ii.  149. 

Pascal,  his  experiment  on  the  barometer, 
iii.  43,  note  —  on  the  Puy  de  D8me,  405 

—  writings    of,    iv.  37,   89,  102  —  his 
Thoughts  on  Miracles,  iv.  46-51,  102, 
146  — his  Provincial  Letters,  46,  146  — 
on  geometry,  iii.  385;   iv.  102  — his  re- 
verence for  religion,  103  —  his  acute 
observation,  103.  277 

Paschasius,  Radbert,  i.  47,  note  ». 

Pasor,  George,  Greek  scholar,  writings  of, 

ii.  3t52. 
Pasquier,  ii.  214, 258, 259—  his  Recherches 

de  la  France,  801. 
Paasau,  Pacification  of,  ii.  66, 67. 
Passavanti,  religious  writer  i  175. 


PEN  AND  THE  SWORD 

Passerat,  Latin  poet,  ii.  240,  286. 
Passions,  the,  iv.  115, 151  — analysis  of,  by 

Hobbes,  iii.  119,  123—  Spinosa,  iv.  114. 
Paston  Letters,  the,  i.  178,  179,  316,  and 

note  '. 

Pastor  Fido,  ii.  247 ;  iii.  273. 
Pastoral  romance  described,   i.  268 :   iii. 

369— pastoral  poetry,  ii.  219,  220,  302; 

iv.  215  — dramas,  ii. "246;   iii.  272,  309. 
Pastorini,  sonnet  on  Genoa  by,  iv.  216. 
Pastrengo,  i.  182. 

Paterno,  Ludovico,  sonnets  of,  ii.  185. 
Patin,  Guy,  writings  of,  ii.  444 ;  iii.  151. 
Patrizzi,  Francis,  on  the  Roman  military 

system,  ii.  69 — his  Discussiones  Peri- 

pateticte,  108 ;  iii.  15. 
Patru,  forensic  speeches  of,  iii.  352  ;  iv.  66. 
Paul  II.,   Pope,   persecutes  the  learned, 

i.  176. 
Paul  III.,  Pope,  establishes  the  Jesuits, 

i.  870  — convokes  the  Council  of  Trent, 

371 ;  ii.  70,  76.  95. 
Paul  IV.,  ii.  76,  354. 
Paul  V.,  ii.  83,  note  2,  388,  416— his  dis- 

ptite  with  Venice,  383. 
Paul's,  St.,  School,  i.  281. 
Paullus  on  the  right  of  occupancy,  iii.  186. 
Peacock.   Mr.,   definition   of  algebra  by, 

ii.  314,  note  *. 

Pearson,  Bishop,  on  the  Creed,  Iv.  61. 
Pearson  and  Casaubon,  notes  on  Diogenes 

Laertius  by,  iv.  16. 
Pecock,  Bishop,  remarks  on  the  language 

of,  i.  316,  note  *. 
Pecorone,  the,  a  celebrated  moral  fiction, 

i.  148. 
Pecquet,  medical  observations  of,  iii.  423 ; 

iv.  339. 

Peele,  George,  plays  of,  il.  266,  267. 
Peirppc,   Nicholas,  his   learning,   iii.  177, 

393, 423,  note  '  —  life  and  character,  440 

—  his  travels,  441  —  his  additions   to 
botany,  ib.  —  scientific  discoveries,  ib. 

—  literary  zeal  of,  440. 

Pelagian  controversy,  the.  iv.  34  —  the 
Semi-Pelagians,  ii.  80,  83— their  hypo- 
thesis, 411. 

Pelham,  Lady,  MS.  letter  of,  i.  74,  note  », 
179. 

Pelisson,  his  History  of  the  French  Aca- 
demy, iii.  237,  348. 

Pellegrino,  Camillo,  his  controversy  with 
the  Academy  of  Florence,  i.  236,  note 1 ; 
ii.  298,  299  — his  poems,  183— his  dia- 
logue, 11  Carafla,  299,  note. 

Pellcticr,  algebra  of,  ii.  311. 

Pelletier-s  Art  ot  Poetry,  ii.  800— also  his 
version  of  Horace,  ib.  note. 

Pellican,  his  religious  tenets,  i.  802  —  his 
Commentarii  Biblionun,  462  —  Hebrew 
grammar  by,  266. 

Pembroke,  William,  Earl  of,  poetry  of,  iii. 
256,  note,  269. 

Pen  and  the  Sword,  Andrese's  parable  ot 
ill.  153,  note  >. 


INDEX. 


389 


Pena  on  botany,  II.  332. 

Pennant's  British  Zoology,  ii.  329. 

Pensees  Diverses  sur  la  Comete  de  1680,  by 
Bayle,  iv.  295. 

Perception,  theories  of  Malebranche, 
Locke,  Stewart,  &c.,  on,  iv.  87,  88,  89, 
and  note. 

Percy's  Keliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,  ii.  230. 

Peregrine,  writings  of,  iii.  341. 

Pereira,  Gomez,  the  Margarita  Antoniana, 
ii.  120. 

Perez  Gines  de  la  Hita,  Spanish  novelist, 
ii.  307. 

Periers,  Bonaventure  des,  his  Cymbalum 
Mundi,  ii.  101,  note  2. 

Perizonius,  ii.  38  —  philological  works  of, 
374;  iv.  12. 

Perkins,  Calvinis*ic  divine,  science  of 
morals  by,  ii.  91 ;  iii.  143. 

Perotti,  Cornucopia,  &c.,  of,  i.  204  —  medi- 
cal works  of,  342. 

Perpinianus,  Jesuit  of  Valencia,  orations 
of,  ii.  41. 

Perrault,  Charles,  his  Parallel  of  the  An- 
cients and  Moderns,  iv.  289,  306  —  tales 
by,  310. 

Perrault,  Nicolas,  his  Morale  des  Jesuites. 
iv.  147. 

Perron,  Du,  Cardinal  and  Archbishop  of 
Sens,  the  talent  and  influence  of,  ii.  387, 
392,  note.  393  and  note  —  Perroniana, 
iv.  297. 

Persecution  of  Protestants,  I.  364  —  in 
Spain  and  in  the  Low  Countries,  369  — 
day  of  St.  Bartholomew,  ii.  121,  164  — 
by  the  two  Marys,  139. 

Persian  language,  &c.,  the,  ii.  340 ;  iii. 
429 ;  iv.  343. 

Persons,  the  Jesuit,  conduct  of,  ii.  95, 
147. 

Perspective,  writers  on  the  science  of,  ii. 
321. 

Peruvian  bark,  discovery  of,  iv.  342. 

Peruzzi,  treatise  on  perspective  by,  ii.  321. 

Petavius,  chronological  works  of,  ii.  64, 
379,380;  iv.  22  — his  Greek,  Hebrew, 
and  Latin  poetry,  iii.  264  —  his  Dog- 
mata Theologica,  ii.  435 ;  iv.  43. 

Peter  Cluniacensis,  his  treatise  against  the 
Jews,  i.  77  —  explanation  of  his  words, 
ex  rasuris  veterum  pannorum,  ib.  and 
note  3. 

Peter  Lombard,  Propositions  of  the  Fa- 
thers by,  i.  36,  note  2  —  Liber  Senten- 
tiarum  of.  112. 

Petit,  French  scholar,  i.  338  ;  ii.  367. 

Petit,  Samuel,  on  the  Athenian  laws,  ii. 
37& 

Petrarch,  the  first  restorer  of  letters,  i. 
63, 100  — attempts  the  study  of  Greek, 
114  — Latin  poems  of,  101 ;  ii.  295  — his 
Eclogues,  ib.  —  his  Sonnets  and  Can- 
zones, i.  467;  ii.  190,  note,  295  —  idol- 
ized in  Italy,  202  — imitators  of,  185, 
295  —  Tassoni's  remarks  on,  iii.  340  — 


PHTSICAL  SCIENCES. 

Life  of,  by  Aretin,  i.  175  —  opinions  on 
the  nature  of  his  love  for  Laura,  ii. 
295. 

Petri,  Olaus,  translation  of  the  Scriptures 
into  Swedish  by,  i.  381. 

Petty,  Sir  William,  political  arithmetic  of, 
iv.  207. 

Peucer,  son-in-law  of  Melanchthon,  ii.  82. 

Pezron,  his  Antiquite  des  Temps  devoilee, 
iv.  22. 

Pfeffercorn,  the  converted  Jew,  i.  297. 

Pfintzing,  Melchior,  his  poem  of  Theuer- 
danks,  i.  420. 

Pflster,  Bible  of,  i.  169. 

Phasdrus,  Fabulae  of,  iv.  217. 

Phaer,  translator,  ii.  226,  302. 

Phalaris,  Epistles  of,  iv.  17. 

Pharsalia,  Lucan's,  Breboeuf's,  iv.  224, 
287  — May's  Supplement,  iii.  269. 

Phavorinus.  his  Etymologicum  Magnum, 
i.  231,  332. 

Philaster,  play  of,  iii.  312. 

Philip  Augustus,  King  of  France,  i.  38. 

Philip  II.  of  Spain,  reign  of,  ii.  69,  95,  98, 
199, 207,  208,  note  l  —  sends  an  embassy 
to  Pekin  in  1580,  342. 

Philip  III.  of  Spain,  ii.  208,  note  i;  iii. 
229. 

Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  iii.  230. 

Philips,  his  Theatrum  Poetarum,  iv.  303. 

Philo  and  the  Alexandrian  school  of  phi- 
losophy, i.  213. 

Philology,  progress  of,  ii.  13, 19 — in  Ger- 
many, 34 ;  iv.  10,  &c. 

Philosophic  Elements  of  Hobbes,  iii.  127 

Philosophical  Transactions,  iv.  320. 

Philosophy,  experimental,  iv.  318. 

Philosophy,  the  scholastic,  i.  36,  40,  41. 
383,  384;  ii.  34;  iii.  14;  iv.  63  — of 
Bacon,  ii.  117;  iii.  32,  73;  iv.  45  — of 
Locke  and  Bayle,  45  —  of  Descartes  and 
Gassendi,  rfi.,  64,  69,  71,  72,  78 ;  iii.  74- 
101,  &c.— of  Galileo  and  Kepler,  13  — 
Nizolius's  principles  of,  ii.  118  —  of 
Hobbes.  iii.  101-130  —  Melanchthon'a 
Philippic  method  of,  iii.  14  —  Campa- 
nella's  theory,  16  —  history  of  specula- 
tive philosophy,  i.  383;  iii.  11 ;  iv.  63  — 
the  Aristotelian  philosophy,  i.  209,  384. 
385;  ii.  105,  106;  iii.  11,  14;  iv.  63,  83 
—  of  Boethius,  i.  26  —  the  Platonic, 
208,209;  ii.  115;  iii.  69  — the  Peripa- 
tetic dialectics,  13  —  scholastic  and 
genuine  Aristotelians  distinguished,  i. 
385;  ii.  105;  iii.  12  — the  Epicurean 
school,  98  —  metaphysical  writers,  14, 
129;  iv.  63  et  seq. — moral  philosophy, 
i.  394;  ii.  123;  iii.  131-153 ;  iv.  146  — 
political  philosophy,  i.  394  ;  ii.  133  ; 
iii.  154-176;  iv.  183  — occult,  i.  392  — 
Stewart's  Dissertation  on  the  Progress: 
of  Philosophy,  iii.  81,  note — Ethics  of 
Spinosa,  iv.  151. 

Physical  sciences  in  the  middle  agee,  i 
126. 


390 


INDEX. 


PHYSICIANS. 

Physicians,  College  of,  founded  by  Henry 
VIII  ,  i.  465. 

Physiology,  vegetable,  iv.  333.  • 

Phytopiuax,  botanical  work,  ii.  334. 

Phj  tojjinax,  iii.  415. 

Pibrac,  a  lawyer  and  versifier,  ii.  213. 

Piccolomini,  Alexander,  Moral  Institu- 
tions of,  ii.  132  —  Anatomise  Prseltc- 
tiones  of,  336. 

Picture,  the,  play  of,  iii.  329. 

Picus  of  Mirandola,  i.  213-216 ;  ii.  108. 

Pietra  del  Paragone  of  Trajan  Boccalini, 
iii.  338. 

Pigafetta,  voyages  by,  ii.  341. 

Pighius,  antiquary,  ii.  60. 

Pignoria  on  the  Isiac  tablet,  ii.  377. 

Pilatus,  Leon,  translation  of  Homer  by, 
5.  115. 

Pilgrim  of  Purchas,  iii.  429. 

Pilgrim's  Progress  of  John  Bunyan,  iv. 
307,  313. 

Pin,  John,  French  scholar,  i.  285,  338. 

Pinciano's  treatise  on  the  Art  of  Poetry, 
ii.  299. 

Pincianus,  works  of.  i.  339. 

Pindar,  iii.  226,  22<  —  Italian  translation 
of,  228  — Schmidt's  edition  of,  ii.  363. 

Pinelli,  Gian  Vincenzio,  museum  and  li- 
brary of,  ii:  330,  349;  iii.  440. 

Pinkerton  on  medals  and  gems,  ii.  349. 

Pinkerton's  Scottish  Poems,  i.  345,  note. 

Pinson  the  printer,  i.  343. 

Pinzon,  his  voyage  with  Columbus,  ii 
327,  note  ». 

Pirckheinier,  Bilibald,  i.  278  and  note  i, 

354,  note l  —  Epistle  of,  to  Melanchthon, 
352,  note  —  Epistle  of  Erasmus  to,  ib. 

355,  357,  note. 

Pisa,  school  of,  ii.  106  —  siege  of,  in  1508, 
346  —  Leonard  of,  313  —  botanical  gar- 
den of.  i!  460  ;  ii.  330  — Leaning  Tower 
of,  322. 

Piso  on  the  Materia  Medica  of  Brazil,  iii 
411. 

Pitcairn,  medical  theory  of,  iv.  341. 

Pitiscus,  the  mathematician,  ii.  317. 

Pius  V.,  bulls  of,  against  Baius,  ii.  82 ;  iv. 
36  —  against  Queen  Elizabeth,  ii.  95  — 
his  rigor  against  the  press,  355. 

Placette,  La,  Essais  de  Morale  of,  iv.  150, 
169,  note  <. 

Plants,  classification  of,  ii.  331 ;  iv.  331  — 
distinction  of  trees  and  shrubs,  331  —  on. 
vegetable  physiology.  333  —  the  ana- 
tomy of.  ib. — the  sexual  system  of,  334. 
See  ''  Botany." 

Plater,  medical  discoveries  of,  ii.  336. 

Platina,  the  academician  at  Rome,  i.  176. 

Plato,  remarks  on,  by  Lord  Bacon,  iii.  42 

—  by  Descartes,  84. 

Platonic  academy  at  Florence,  i.  190,  208 

—  philosophy',  the,  209,  385;  ii.  106, 
115;   iv.  66  — theology,  i.  208. 

Flatonism,  the  modern,  i.  162,  209;  ii. 
115 ;  iv.  66,  69. 


Plautus,  recovery  of  his  comedies,  i.  103 

—  the  Meuaechmi  of,  imitated  by  Shak- 
speare  and  others,  ii.  273  —  translated 
and  acted  at  Ferrara,  i.  221 ;  iv.  256  — 
Aulularia,  ib. 

Plavfair,  dissertations  of,  i.  449,  note  zj 
ii.  322,  note  »;  iii.  51-55,  401. 

Pletho,  Gemistus,  i.  163  and  note. 

PlinianiB  Exercitationes  of  Salmasius,  ii. 
368. 

Plotinus,  philosophy  of,  i.  213 ;  ii.  115. 

Plutarch,  imitations  of,  iii.  148  —  transla- 
tions of,  into  vulgar  Greek,  in  the  four- 
teenth century,  i.  113,  note  3  —  Amyot'g 
French,  ii  284  —  Xylander's  version  of, 
21  — North's,  iii.  299  — Dry  den's  Life 
of,  iv.  300. 

Pococke,  his  great  erudition,  iii.  428 ;  iv. 
343. 

Poetse  Minores,  Winterton's,  ii.  364. 

Poetarum  Carmiua  Illustrium.  ii.  238. 

Poetry,  in  the  tenth  and  next  ensuing 
centuries,  i.  33  —  Anglo-Saxon,  id.  — 
Latin  poetry,  ib.  —  effect  of  chivalry 
on,  143  — Belgic.  ii.  242  — Danish,  iii. 
243  —  Dutch.  242  —  English,  i.  140, 420- 
427 ;  ii.  215-238 ;  iv.  222  —  French  and 
Provencal,  i.  53,  140,  219,  418 ;  ii.  208- 
215;  iii.  235,  281;  iv.  216;  German,  i. 
33,  419;  ii.  209-215;  iii.  239;  iv.  222  — 
Italian,  i.  205. 206,  237, 411 ;  ii.  181-199 ; 
iii.  235,  340;  iv.  211  — Latin,  i.  33,  101, 
427-129;  ii.  238-244;  iii.  264;  iv.240  — 
Portuguese,  i.  243,  417  ;  ii.  204-2^7  — 
Spanish,  i.  135,  416;  ii.  199-208,  255; 
iii.  229  —  Castilian,  i.  416  ;  ii.  199  — 
Scandinavian,  i.  33  —  Scottish,  270, 
344,  note  *  ;  ii.  231,  242  —  blanU 
i.  424  — pastoral,  268;  iv.  221  — epic, 
ii.  193-199  ;  iv.  222  —  serious,  ii.  222 

—  philosophical,  iii.   245  —  metaphysi- 
cal, iii.  247  —  anonymous  poetry,  864— 
works  on  poetry,  viz.  Gascoyne's  Notes 
on  Verse  and  Rhyme,  ii.  301 —  \Vebln-'s 
discourse  of  English  poetry,  302  —  Put- 
tenham's  Art  of  English  Ppesie,  ib.  — 
Harvey  on  English  verse,  ib.  —  Piuci 
ano's   treatise  on   the  Art  of,   299  — 
Pelletier's   treatise,  300  —  Juan  de  la 
Cueva's  Art  of  Poetry,  16.  —  Dryden's 
Ks&iy  on  Dramatic  Poesy,  iv.  300. 

Poggio  Bracciolini,  the  first  half  of  the 
fifteenth  century  called  his  age,  i.  103 
— on  the  ruins  of  Rome,  159. 

Poggio  on  the  degraded  state  of  learning 
in  England  in  1420,  i.  124. 

Poiret,  his  Divine  (Economy,  iv.  45. 

Poland,  Protestants  in,  ii.  68  —  the  Anti- 
Trinitarians  of,  86  —  Socinians  of,  td. 

—  college  at  Kacow,  ib.,  416  —  Polish 
version  of  Scripture,  104. 

Pole,  Cardinal,  ii.  140. 
Polentone,  Secco,  Dramas  of,  i.  220. 
Politian,   his   Italian  poems,  i.  175,  204, 
221,  232,  441, 442 ;  ii.  294— Miscellanies 


INDEX. 


391 


POLITICAL  LITERATURE. 

of,  i.  202  — Latin  poetry  of,  196— his 

drama  of  Orfeo,  221. 
Political  literature,  ii.  133  —  economists, 

iii.  161;   iv.  203 — science,  ii.  134;  iii. 

49 —  opinions  in  fifteenth  century,  i.  • 

149. 
Political  philosophy,  iii.   154 — views  of 

Spinosa,  iv.  187  —  power,  ii.  139.. 
Polo,  Gil,  poetry  of,  ii.  203,  305. 
Polo,  Marco,  Travels  of,  i.  270 ;  ii.  342. 
Pclybius,  commentaries  on,  by  Patrizziand 

Kobortellus,  ii.  59,  60— bf  Casaubon, 

359  and  notes. 
Polyglots,  various,  iii.  426,  4^'  —  Bible 

of  Alcali,  i.  319  — of  Antwerp,  ii.  338  — 

Polyglot  alphabet,  i.  463  — Brian  Wal- 
ton's, iv.  342 

Polyolbion  of  Drayton,  iii.  250. 
Pomfret.  his  Choice,  a  poem.  iv.  239. 
Pomponatius   De    Immortalitate.   i.   319, 

320,  387 ;  ii.  101  — on  fate  and  free-will, 
i.  387. 

Pomponius  Laetus,  on  antiquities,  ii.  56. 
Pomponius  Mela,  edition  of,  by  Vossius, 

iv.  10. 
Pontanus,  Latin  poems  of,  i.  233 ;   ii.  294 

—  his  poem,  De  Uortis  Hesperidum,  i. 
459,  note  2. 

Pool,  Matthew,  Synopsis  Criticorum  by, 

iv.  61. 
Vope,  Alexander,  his  correspondence,  iii. 

347  — his  Kape  of  the  Lock,  226,  note. 
Pope,  Sir  Thomas,  letter  of,  i.  343,  note  2. 
Pope,  Joan,  on  the  existence  of,  iii.  64, 

note. 

Pope  John  XXI.,  i.  40,  note  •». 
Popery,   writings    against,    iv.    33.      See 

"  Papal." 
Population,  King's  calculations  on,  iv.  207 

—  theory  of  Malthus  on,  iii.  65. 
Port-Royal  Greek  grammar,  the,  ii.  29; 

iv.  11  —  Kacine's  History  of  Port  Royal, 
35,  note  —  dissolution  of  the  convent 
of,  37  —  the  Messieurs  de  Port  Royal, 
ib.  —  their  Logic,  or  1'Art  de  Penser,  65, 
81,  82,  84. 
Porta,  Baptista,  Magia  Naturalis  of,  ii. 

321,  384,  note  2  —  discoveries  of,  iii. 
406. 

Porta,  Simon,  a  rigid  Aristotelian,  ii.  106. 
Portal's   History  of  Anatomy,  quoted,  i. 

457, 458 ;  ii.  336 ;  iii.  418-421  and  notes; 

iv.  338. 
Portia  Capece,  wife  of  Rota  the  poet,  ii. 

186. 
Porto,  Luigi  da,  author  of  the  novel  of 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  163,  note  1. 
Portuguese  dramatic  works,  i.  266,  267  — 

poets,  62,  417, 433 ;  ii.  204  —  poetry,  204 

—  men  of  learning  in,  207  —  conquests 
and  trade  in  India  by  the,  341 ;  iii.  163, 
note  —  discoveries  in  Africa,  i.  201  — 
lyric  poetry  of,  243. 

Portus,  JEmilius,  a  teacher  of  Greek,  ii. 
17,  25,  35. 


PBOSODY. 

PoBsevin,  ii.  72  and  note,  74  —  Bibliotheca 
Selecta  of,  i.  36,  note  » 

Postel,  William,  the  Oriental  scholar, 
463. 

Potato,  early  notice  of  the,  ii.  331. 

Potter's  Antiquities  of  Greece,  iv.  20  — 
his  Lycophron,  16. 

Poynet,  or  Ponnet,  John,  on  Politique 
Power,  ii.  139  —  on  tyrannicide,  140, 
141. 

Pratt's  edition  of  Bishop  Hall's  works,  iii. 
354,  note. 

Preaching,  style  of,  before  the  Reforma 
tion,  ii.  438  —  in  England  after  the 
Restoration,  iv.  59. 

Prejudice,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  124. 

Prescott.  Mr.,  History  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  by,  i.  323,  note. 

Press,  the.     See  "  Printing." 

Prevost,  M.,  his  remark  on  identity,  iii. 
114,  note. 

Price's  notes  on  Apuleius,  iv.  16. 

Printing,  art  of,  j.  165 — invention  of,  164 
—  block -books,  ib.  —  known  in  China, 
165  —  Gutenberg's  and  Costar's  mova- 
ble characters,  165  —  first  printed  book, 
f'ft.  —  progress  of  the  art,  166 —  Peter 
Schseffer's  engraved  punch,  166 — Fust 
of  Mentz,  166,169, 173— Caxton,  184  — 
early  sheets  and  books,  168  —  the  first 
Greek  printed,  181  —  first  Greek  press 
at  Paris,  263;  at  Rome,  273  — first  edi- 
tions of  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics, 
172,  261 ;  ii.  14,  51-53  —  progress  of  the 
art  in  England,  i.  184 ;  ii.  355  —  France, 
i.  173,  183,  276  — Germany,  171,  173, 
271  — Italy,  173, 230, 231  — Spain,  184  — 
restrictions  on  the  press  at  Rome  by 
Paul  IV.  and  Pius  V.,  ii.  354,  355  — in 
Spain  by  Philip,  354  —  in  England  by 
Elizabeth  and  the  Star  Chamber,  355  — 
the  Index  Expurgatorius  of  printed 
books,  354  —  destruction  of  works  by 
the  Inquisition,  ib.  —  wood-cuts  and 
illustrations,  i.  199 —  advantages  reaped 
from  the  art,  250  —  its  effects  on  the  Re- 
formation, 258. 

Prisoners  and  slaves,  Grotius  on  the  usage 
of,  iii.  205,  207. 

Promises,  Grotius  on  the  obligation  of,  iii. 
190. 

Promos  and  Cassandra,  play  of,  ii.  263 ; 
iii.  296. 

Pronunciation  of  Greek  and  Latin,  on 
the,  i.  344 — of  modern  languages,  iv. 
285. 

Property,  law  of,  iii.  168  —  right  of, 
186,  189;  iv.  170,  192  — census  of,  ii. 
164. 

Prose,  elegance  of  French,  admitted,  i. 
269,  note  —  English  writers  of,  ii.  286— 
Hobbes,  iv.  298  — Cowley,  299  — Eve- 
lyn, 299  —  Dryden,  300  —  Italian,  i.  176 
ii.  281. 

Prosody,  Latin,  i.  51 ;  ii.  373. 


392 


INDEX. 


PROTESTAWT  BELIOIOK. 

Protestant  religion,  the.  progress  of,  i.  299. 
302,  348,  368,  3*1,  378 ;  ii.  66 ;  IT.  28, 32 

—  tenets  of  the  Protestants  broached  by 
Wiclitle  and  his  followers,  i.  304  —  Lu- 
ther and  Calvin,  351-355, 363  —  in  Spain 
and  the  Low  Countries,  369;   ii.  69  — 
Austria  aud  Poland,  74,  86  —  Bohemia 
and  Hungary,  74  —  the  Protestant  con- 
troversy in  Germany  and  Frauc*>  74 ; 
iv.  28  —  French  Protestant  refugees,  52 

—  the  Huguenots  of  France,  ii.  89, 121 ; 
IT.  28,  52  —  bigotry  and  in  tolerance' of 
the  Lutheran  and  Calvinistic  churches, 
ii.  79,  8*j.  87  —  decline  of  Protestantism, 
90  —  the  principle  of  Protestantism,  i. 
377  —  Anglican  Protestantism,  ii.  391. 
See  "Reformation,"   " Calvin, "   "Lu- 
ther,"   "  Zwiugle,"    "  Melauchthon," 
&c. 

ProTencal  poetry,  the,  i.  53  et  stq. ;  ii.  257 ; 

iii.  232  — language   allied  with   Latin, 

1.  49,  52. 
Provoked    Husband,    play    of,    IT.    261, 

Provoked  Wife,  play  of,  IT.  275. 

Prudentius,  Latin  verse  of,  i.  52. 

Prynne,  the  Histriomastix  of,  iii.  292. 

Psalters  and  liturgies,  Greek,  used  in  th» 
church  offices  in  Italy,  i.  112  —  the  Psal 
ter(  printed  in  1457),  166,  168. 

Psychological  theories,  iii.  85,  104,  129. 

Ptolemy,  the  geography  of,  i.  201,  270  — 
Ptolemaic  system,  iii.  395. 

Puffendorf,  Samuel,  on  the  writings  of 
Bacon,  iii.  72  —  his  Law  of  Nature  and 
Nations,  211,  219;  iv.  156,  165-173,  210 

—  his    Duties   of  a   Man  and  a  Citi- 
zen,  165  —  comparison   of,    with    Dr. 
Paley,-   171  —  Theory    of   Politics    of, 
183. 

Pulci,  Luigi,  poems  of,  i.  175,  206  — his 
Morgan te  Maggiore,  ib.  309;  iii.  226. 

Pulteney,  History  of  Botany  of,  ii.  330, 
831,  and  note ;  iv.  333,  353. 

Punch  in  printing  invented,  i.  166. 

Punishment  of  crimes,  on.  by  Grotius  and 
Puffendorf,  iii.  197  :  iv.  186. 

Purbach,  German  mathematician,  his  dis- 
coveries, i.  171,  199. 

Purchas,  the  Pilgrim,  a  collection  of  voy- 
ages by,  iii.  429. 

Puritans,  the,  ii.  86,  222. 

Purple  Island,  Fletcher's  poem  of,  iii.  244, 
245. 

Puttenhani.  his  Art  of  Poesie,  i.  421;  ii. 
61,  286.  302. 

Pynson,  books  printed  by,  1.  242,  277, 
note  >. 

Pyrrhonism,  ii.  110, 128 ;  iii.  78, 146. 

Quadrio,  Italian  critic,  i.  312 ;  ii.  185. 
Quadrivium,  mode  of  education,   i.  27, 

note  * ;  ii.  347,  note. 
Quakers,   superstitious  opposition  of,   to 

lawful  war,  iii.  182. 


RALPH    ROY8TER    DOT8TKR. 

Quarterly  Review,  articles  of  the,  quoted, 
i.  113,  n.'te  <*,  332,  334 ;  H.  27,  note  \ 
205,  not* .  iii.  280— on  Milton,  iv.  228. 
note  i  —  a.  'iclcs  of,  ascribe d  to  Dr.  lilom- 

•     field,  i.  113,  note  a,  o34. 

Querenghi,  Italian  author,  iii.  '!''-'>. 

Quevedo,  Spani.-li  satirist,  iii.  231  —  hia 
Visions,  and  Life  of  Tacano,  IT.  C^7. 

Quietists  and  mystics,  iT.  44,  46. 

Quillet,  Claude," Callipsedia  of.  IT.  241. 

Quinault,  dramas  of,  IT.  256— La  Men, 
Coquette,  263  — operas  of,  265. 

Quintilian,  Isidore's  opinion  of,  i.  27  — 
styles  colloquial  Latin  as  quoti/Jianiis, 
43  —  on  vicious  orthography ,  to.  —  MS3. 
of,  discovered  by  Poggio,  103. 

Quixote,  Don,  its  high  reputation,  iii.  363 

—  new  views  as  to  the  design  of,  ib.  — 
difference  between  the  two  parts  of.  365 
— his  library  alluded  to,  ii.  305 ;  iii.  365 

—  translations  of,  iv.  298  —  excellence 
of  this  romance,  iii.  368. 

Rabelais,  his  Pantagruel,  i.  439  — works 
of,  still  have  influence  with  the  public, 
ii.  356  ;  iv.  817. 

B-«an,  French  poet,  iii.  237,  281. 

Rucine,  Jean,  his  History  of  Port  Royal, 
iv.  35,  note  —  tragedies  of,  220,  244  — 
Les  Freres  Ennemis,  244  —  Alexandra, 
245  —  his  Androiiiaque,  ib.  —  Britanni- 
cus,  246  — Berenice,  248  — Bajazet  248 
->- Mithridate,  249  —  Iphigenie,  250  — 
Phedre,  251  —  Esther,  251— Athalie,  252 

—  his  female  characters,  253  —  compari- 
sons with  Shakspeare,  with  Corneille, 
and    Euripides,    253  —  beauty  of   hia 
style,   254  —  his  comedy   of  Les  Plai- 
deurs,  262  —  Madame  de  Sevigue  on, 
282,  note. 

Bacow,  Anti-Trinitarian  academy  at.  ii.  86. 
Radbert,  Paschasius,  quotations  by,  i.  47, 

note  i. 
R&dzivil,  Prince,  prints  the  Polish  Tersion 

of  the  Scriptures,  ii.  K>1. 
Raffaelle,  Borghino,  treatise  on  painting 

by,  ii.  282. 

Raffaelle  d'Urbino,  i.  272. 
Raimondi,  John  Baptista,  the  printer,  ii. 

339.     The  first  Italian  teacher  of  He- 
brew, i.  202  —  Persic  grammar  by,  iii. 

429 
Rainaldus,  Annals  of  Baronius  continued 

by.  ii.  100. 
Rainbow,  theory  of  the,  and  explanation 

of  the  outer  bow,  iii.  409. 
Rainolds,  Dr.  .lohn,  ii.  92,  142,  note  — 

character  of,  by  Wood  and  others,  92, 

note  i. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  ii.  221,  302;   iii.  152 

—  his  Hirtory  of  the  World.  357;   iT. 
298  —  the  Mermaid  Club  established  by, 
iii.  306. 

Ralph  Royster  Doyster,  play  of,  i.  437  ;  Ii. 
261. 


IXDEX. 


393 


RAMBOtrrr.i.ET. 

Ram  bo  u  lilt  t.  Marquise  de,  Catherine  de 
Vivonne,  and  her  daughter  Julie  d'An- 
gennes,  celebrated  literary  societv  of, 
Hi.  346 —  the  H6tel  de,  a  literary  coterie, 
346,  371 :  iv.  258. 308. 

Ramiresius  de  Pnido,  philology  of,  ii. 
307. 

Ramus.  Peter,  hi?  Greek  grammar,  ii.  29 : 
iv.  12  — his  logic,  i.  3o8,  389,  390;  ii. 
121 ;  iii.  12  ;  iv.  65  —  the  Ramists,  iii. 
15. 

Ramusio,  travels  edited  by,  i.  271, 464;  ii. 
340.341. 

Ranke.  German  historian,  ii.  248.  note  1  — 
lib  Uutory  of  the  Reformation,  i.  301, 
note. 

Raphael  of  Yolterra,  antiquary,  i.  381 ;  ii. 
56. 

Rapheling.  his  Arabic  lexicon,  iii   423. 

Rapin.  Nicolas,  Latin  poetry  of,  ii.  286; 
iii. 265,  note—  extolled  the  disputations 
of  the  schools,  iv.  63 — imitation  of  Ho- 
race by,  ii.  213. 

Rapin.  Rene,  merit  of  his  Latin  poem  on 
Gardens,  iv.  241  —  on  Eloquence  and 
Poetry,  287  —  his  Parallels  of  the  Great 
Men  of  Antiquity,  ib. 

Bauwolf,  the  German  naturalist,  ii.  331, 
note  s. 

Ravaillere.  La,  ancient  Latin  song  quoted 
from,  i.  45.  note  2. 

Rawley's  Life  of  Lord  Bacon,  iii.  32.  note. 
38. 

Ray,  his  Ornithology,  and  History  of 
Fishes,  iv.  326  —  Synopsis  of  Quadru- 
peds, ib.  —  Historia  Plantarum.  &c., 
330  —  geological  observations  of,  336, 
337. 

Raymond  of  Toulouse,  his  letter  to  Henry 
III.,  i.  78. 

Ravnouard.  M..  his  Choix  des  Poesies  des 
Troubadours,  i.  42,  56 — on  the  Pro- 
vencal or  Romance  language,  44-50, 56, 
note  -  —  on  Portuguese  lyric  poetry.  238 

—  criticl-ms  of.  on  the  Araucana  of  Er- 
cilla,  ii.  203. 

Real,  St.,  works  of,  iv.  52. 

Realist*,  disputations  of  the,  i.  41,  195 ; 

iii.  14. 
Reason,  human,  on,  i.  210 :  iv.  102,  112, 

151. 
Reasoning,  art  of.  Hobbes  on  the,  iii.  113, 

note  ',  117.    See  "  Logic." 
Rebulgc,  Mingo.  pastorals  of,  ii.  246. 
Recitative    suggested   by    Rinuccini,    ii. 

249. 
Record,  Robert,  Whetstone  of  Wit  by,  ii. 

312. 
Redi,  his  philosophy,  iii.  337  —  sonnets  of. 

and  ode,   Bacco"  in    Toscana,   iv.   214 

—  his  correspondence,  275 — zoology  of, 
327. 

Redman,  Dr.,  character  of.  i.  345  —  a 
tutor  of  repute  at  Cambridge,  ii.  47, 


Reformation,  the  origin  of.  i.  299  —  spin* 
of.  i.  376  :  ii.  135,  390  — its  tenets.  412 

—  its  eOecte  on  learning,  i.   » 

340  —  on  printing.  258  —  its  progress  in 
Germany  and  Switzerland.  351  — aliena- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  revenues  to  the 
state,  352  —  expulsion  from  the  con- 
vents, ib.  —  revolutionary  excitement 
353. 361 :  ii.  135 — growth  of  fanaticism, 
i.  353 —  its  appeal  to  the  ignorant,  361 

—  active  part  taken  by  women,  v>. — 
parallel  between  those   times  and  the 
present,  ib.  —  differences  among  the  re- 
formers. 363 — its  spread  in  England, 
364  — in  Italy,  365.  366  — in 'Germany 
mod    Switzerland.    301,    302,    351  — in 
Spain  and  Low  Countries,  369  —  perse- 
cutions by  the  Inquisition,  ib.  —  order 
of  the  Jesuits,  ib.  370  —  character  of 
Luther  and  his  writings,  371-373 —  theo- 
logical writings  of  the  period.  374.  375 

—  the  controversies  of  the  reformers, 
376 — the   principle  of   Protestantism, 
377  —  the  passions  instrumental  in  es- 
tablishing the  Reformation,  378  —  the 
mischiefs  arising  from  the  abandonment 
of  the  right  of  free  inquiry.  378 — con- 
troversies of  Catholic  and   Protestant 
churchmen,  ii.  390  —  defections  to  Ca- 
tholicism. 3y2. 393  —  interference  of  the 
civil  power  with.  i.  351;  ii.  422.  423  — 
Confession  of  Augsburg,  i.  355  :  ii.  66  — 

—  controversies  of  the  chief  reformers, 
i.  355.  et  seq. — dispute   between   the 
Swiss  reformers  and  Luther.  363  — its 
progress,  ii.  66  —  the  Reformatio  Leguni 
Erclesiasticarum,   under  Edward   VI., 
42 — Protestants  of  France,  their  con- 
troversy with  the  Gallic  an  Church,  iv 
28-33  —  writings   of   the  Church-of- 
England   divines  against  the  doctrines 
of  Rome.  33.  34  —  re-action  in  favor  of 
the  Church  of  Rome  in  Italy  and  Spain, 
ii.  69,  71, 390 — the  Formula  t'oncordiae 
of  the  Lutheran  churches.  81.  401.  402 

—  Church  of  England,  the  Thirty -nine 
Articles.  S3,  note  '  —  the  High-church 
party,  403.    See  "  Luther."  ••  Calvin," 
"  Melanchthon,"  "  Zwingle."  &c. 

Refraction  suggested  as  the  cause  of  pris- 
matic division  of  colors,  iii.  408  —  law 
of.  406. 

Regicide.     See  "  Tyrannicide." 

Rf.no.  works  of,  i.  188. 

Regiomontanus.  the  mathematician,  i. 
171.  198.  227  — his  treatise  on  triangles, 
448,449. 

Regis.  Jean  Silvain.  his  Systeme  de  la  Phi- 
losophic, iv.  80,  note  >.*  81.  notr. 

Regius,  professor  of  niedk-ine  at  Utrecht, 
iii.  98. 

Regnard.  dramatic  author,  ii.  260  —  his 
Le  Joueur.  iv.  262  —  Le  Legataire,  263 

—  Les  Menechmes.  ib. 
Regnier,  satires  of,  iii.  237. 


894 


INDEX. 


REHEARSAL. 

Rehearsal,  the,  a  satire  by  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  iv.  302. 

Reid's  Essays,  iii.  73,  note  *,  IT.  87  — his 
animadversion  on  Descartes,  iii.  81, 
note. 

Reindeer,  the,  Albertus  on,  ii.  326. 

Reiuesius,  a  Saxon  physician,  Varise  Lec- 
tiones  of,  ii.  366  and  note  1. 

Reinold.  Prussian  tables  of,  ii.  318. 

Relapse,  the,  play  of,  iv.  275. 

Religio  Medici  of  Sir  T.  Browne,  iii.  151, 
note. 

Religion,  natural,  on,  i.  210  —  by  lord  Ba- 
con, iii.  44 —  on  its  laws,  i.  386  —  in- 
fluence of  reason,  210  —  its  influence 
upon  poetry,  147  —  inspiration  and 
Scripture,  210  — five  notions  of,  iii.  27 
—  evidences  of,  denied  by  the  Socinians, 
II.  417  —  traditions,  i.  211  —  legends  and 
influence  of  saints,  212 — doctrines  of 
the  Christian,  299,  300  —  vindications 
of  Christianity  by  Pascal,  iv.  47  —  by 
Huet,  51  — toleration  in,  ii.  160,  423, 
424,  425  —  union  of  religious  parties 
sought  by  Grotius,  398,  note  —  and  by 
Calixtug,  401  —  controversy  on  grace 
and  free-will,  410  —  religious  opinions 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  i.  160  —  Deisti- 
cal  writers,  ii.  101  —  religious  tolera- 
tion, remarks  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  425— 
434  —  theory  of  Hobbes  on  religion,  iii. 
125.  See  "  Rome,"  "  Reformation," 
"  Protestants." 

Religious  persecution  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, ii.  423. 

Remonstrants,  the,  ii.  414  ;  iv.  38,  41.  See 
"  Arminians." 

Renouard  on  the  state  of  learning  in  Italy, 
ii.  43,  note  «. 

Reproduction,  animal,  iv.  340. 

Republic  of  Bodin,  analysis  of,  ii.  160-164. 

Republics,  on  the  institutions  of,  iv.  190- 
193. 

Resende,  Garcia  de,  Latin  grammar  of, 
i.  339. 

Retrospective  Review  in  Aleman,  ii.  306, 
note  2. 

Retz.  Cardinal  de,  Memoirs  of,  iv.  346. 

Reuchlin,  i.  219  —  cabalistic  philosophy  of, 
238  —  contention  of.  with  the  monks, 
297  —  Greek  grammar  and  acquirements 
of,  193,  note.  194,  219  —  Latin  plays  of, 
220. 

Revelation,  arguments  founded  on,  iv. 
155,  156. 

Revels,  master  of  the,  duties  of,  ii.  263 ; 
iii.  291. 

Revenues,  pnblic,  Bodin  on,  ii.  164. 

Reviews,  the  first,  the  Journal  des  Scavans, 
iv.  291  —  the  Mercure  Galant,  292  — 
Bayle's  Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des 
Lettres,  293,  294— Le  Clerc's  Biblio- 
theque  Universelle,  ib.  —  the  Leipsic 
Acts,  *.  —  Italian  journals,  ib.  —  Mer- 
cure Savant,  ti.  —  English  Reviews,  ib. 


ROBERVAL. 

Kevius,  the  theologian,  iii.  S3. 
Revolution,   Bodin  on  the  causes  of,  ii 

157. 

Reynard  the  1'oxe,  Caxton's  Ilistorye  of, 
.    i.  149. 
Rhseticus,  Joachim,  mathematician,  i.  453 ; 

ii.  317. 
Rheede,  Hortus  Indicus  Malabaricus  of 

iv.  335. 
Rheims,  Vulgate  of,  translation  of  New 

Testament  from,  by  English  Catholics 

in  1682,  ii.  104. 
Rl K -IK m us  Beatus,  i.  291,  note,  355,  359, 

note  2. 

Rhenish  academy,  the,  i.  218.' 
Rhetoric  of  Cassiodorus,  i.  27,  note. 
Rhetoric,  1'ouquelin's  treatise  on,  ii.  300 

—  Wilson's,  301  —  Cox's,   i.  446  :    ii. 
301. 

Rhodiginus,   Ca-lius,   Lectiones  Antiques 

of,  i.  275,  331 ;   ii.  20,  56. 
Rhodomann,  Laurence,  works  of,  ii.  29, 34, 

134  — his   Life  of  Luther,  34  — Greek 

verses  of,  ib. 
Rhyme,  Latin,  origin  of,  i.  53 — English, 

Gascoyne's    Notes   on  Instruction,  ii 

301. 
Ribeyro,  Portuguese  pastoral  poet,  i.  416 

—  his  Diana  of  Montemaypr,  ib. 
Ricci,  the  Jesuit,  Travels  in  China  by,  iii. 

429. 
Riccoboni,   Hist,  du  Theatre  Italien,  iii. 

271. 

Richard  II.,  dethronement  of,  ii.  140. 
Richard  III.,  players  in   the   time  of,  i 

435. 

Richard,  Duke  of  York,  play  of.  ii.  266. 
Richelet,  Dictionnaire  de,  iv.  282. 
Richelieu,  Cardinal,  a  patron  of  men  of 

learning,  iii.  281.  34G.  348,  349;  iv.  282 

—  supports  the  liberties  of  the  Gallicau 
Church,  ii.  389  —  prejudice  of,  against 
the  Cid,  iii.  349  —  letters  and  writings 
of,  348;  see  also  iv.  28,  35  — Lord  Ba- 
con esteemed  by,  iii.  71  and  note. 

Richer,    his    work    on    the    ecclesiastical 

power,  ii.  38(3. 
Rigault,   or  Rigaltius,  French  critic,  ii. 

367. 
Rinucrini,   Ottavio.  suggests  the  idea  of 

Recitative,  ii.  249. 
Rivella,  adventures  of,  iv.  316,  note. 
Rivers,   Lord,   his  Diets  of  Philosophers, 

i.  198. 

Rivet,  CaMnist  writer,  ii.  436. 
Rivinus,  his  Res  Herbarise,  iv.  331. 
Kivoli.  Armenian  dictionary  compiled  by. 

iii.  429. 

Roads,  Roman,  history  of,  ii.  376. 
Robert,  King  of  Naples,  a  patron  of  Pe- 
trarch, i.  100. 
Robertson,  Dr.,  remarks  of,  i.  28,  note  ». 

80,322. 
Roberval,  French  mathematician,  iii.  384 

404. 


INDEX. 


395 


Rnbison,  works  of.  Hi.  73. 

Robortellus,  philological  work  of,  il.  31, 
40.  56  —  bis  controversy  with  Sigonius, 
51.  notr  —  on  military  changes,  60. 

Roceo,  Italian  dramatist,  iii.  272.  437. 

Rochefoucault.  Due  de  la.  his  Maxims,  Hi. 
124.  :>W  :  IT.  172. 

Rocht*ter.  Karl  of,  poems  of,  rr.  234,  239. 

Koilolph  II.  of  Austria  persecutes  the  Pro- 
testants, u.  74. 

Koger,  the  Jesuit,  Travels  of.  iii.  429. 

Rogers,  hi?  Anatomy  of  the  Mind.  ii.  55. 

Rogers,  Mr.,  his  poem  of  Italy,  i.  190, 
note  1. 

Bo.tas.  Fernando  de,  Spanish  dramatist, 
i.  267. 

Rollenhagen,  the  Froschmauseler  of,  ii. 
215. 

Rollock,  Hercules,  poem  by.  ii.  242. 

Romaic,  or  modern  Greek,  origin  of,  i. 
113. 

Romance,  its  general  tone,  i.  148  —  in- 
fluenced the  manners  of  the  middle 
ages,  146  —  the  oldest,  Tristan  of  Leo- 
nois,  148,  note  *  —  Romance  or  Proven- 
cal language,  i.  48,  53.  55;  ii.  257 ;  iii. 
232  —  writers  of,  Spanish  and  Moorish, 
i.  242;  ii.  207.  9>5:  iii.  229.  363  — 
French,  i.  52.  53:  iii.  3-J9 :  iv.  308  — 
heroic,  iii.  3*59:  iv.  308  —  of  chivalry, 
i.  438:  ii.  307  — of  Italy,  281  — Eng- 
lish, 2S9  ;  iv.  312  —  pastoral,  i.  268 ;  iii. 
869. 

Rome,  university  or  gymnasium  of,  i.  273 
—  the  city  sacked  by  Bourbon. '326  — 
library  of  the  Vatican,  ii.  347  —  works 
of  Cicero.  Dionysius.  Gellius.  Grtevius, 
Gruchius,  Livy,  Manutius,  Niebuhr, 
Panvinius,  Pomponius  Laetus,  Robor- 
tellus, Sigonius,  &c..  &c..  on  its  his- 
tory and  antiquities,  ii.  56-62  —  Poggio's 
observations  on  the  ruins  of.  i.  159 — 
jurisprudence  of.  ii.  171 :  iii.  176-188, 
218:  ir.  166.  208-210  — Leibnitz  on  the 
laws  of,  208  —  modern  poets  of.  211  — 
Church  of.  i.  297. 299:  ii.  66,  389  — ori- 
gin of  the  Reformation,  i.  298  —  contro- 
versy on  the  Papal  power,  ii.  94.  389  ; 
iv.  24  —  discipline  of  the  clergy,  ii.  70 
— oooks  prohibited  by  the  church,  354 
— religious  treatises  of  the  church.  440. 
See  "  Latin,"  "  Learning,"  "  Reforma- 
tion." &c. 

Rondelet.  Ichthyology  of.  ii.  328. 

Ronsard.  Pierre,  poetry  of.  ii.  210,  300 ; 
iii.  233.  231*.  248  :  iv.  21y. 

Roquefort,  his  Glossaire  de  la  Langue  Ro- 
mane.  i.  46,  note  *  —  Etat  de  la  Poesie 
Franc  :iise.  5>5. 

Rosa,  Salvator.  satires  of.  iv.  214. 

Roscelin,  theories  of,  i.  3<5.  41,  195. 

Roscoe,  William,  his  criticism  on  poetical 
prose,  I.  103,  note  »,  269.  note  —  obliga- 
tions to.  278,  note  »  —  his  Leo  X.,  231, 
note  i,  459,  note  » 


BACT. 

Roscommon,  Earl  of,  poems  by,  ST.  239. 
Rose,  or  Rossaeus,  De  justi  Keipublicae  in 

Reges  Potestate,  ii.  142.  note :  iii.  155. 
Rosen.  Dr.,  Arabian  algebra  translated  by 

ii  312.  note  «. 

Rosicrucian  society,  iii.  153.  423. 
Rosmunda.  tragedy  of.  i.  273.  274. 
Rossi,  or  Erythraeus.  collections  of,  ii.  13, 

note  *  —  criticisms  of.  iii.  265. 
Rota,  Bernardino,  poetry  of,  ii.  186. 
Rotbuian.  the  geometrician,  ii.  318. 
Rotrou,  plays  of,  iii.  282  and  note  *  —  Wen- 

ceslas  of,'289. 

Rousseau's  Central  Social,  iii.  218. 
Routh.  Dr.,  Religiosas  Sacrse  of.  i.  35. 
Rowley,  dramatic  works  of,  iii.  334. 
Rowlev,   Thomas,   poems   attributed    to, 

i.  180. 
Roxana.  Latin  tragedy  by  Alabaster,  iii 

268  and  note. 
Boy,   General,    his  Military  Antiquities, 

&c.,  ii.  60,  note  l. 
Royal  King  and  Loval  Subject,  plav  of,  iii 

315. 
Royal  Society  of  London,  iii.   72  —  th« 

Philosophical  Transactions  of,  ir.  318. 

820,  as*.  336. 
Rnarus,  Epistles  of.  ii.  418. 
Rubbi.  the  Pamaso  Italiano  of,  ii.  184 ; 

iii.  222. 
Rubens.  Albert,  on  the  Roman  costume, 

iv.  20. 
Rncellai.  Rosmimda  of.  i.  273,  274  — the 

Bees  of,  an  imitation  of  Virgil's  Fourth 

Georgic,  414. 

Rudbeck.  Olaus,  on  the  Lacteals,  iii.  423. 
Rue.  De  la,  i.  46,  note  2,  57,  note  > 
Rueda,  Lope  de,  Spanish  plays  of,  i.  432. 
Ruel,   John,  i.  338  —  his  translation  of 

Dioscorides  on  botany,  460  —  De  Na 

tura  Stirpium,  t'4. 
Ruhnkenius,  his  praise  of  Mnretus,  ii.  19, 

38. 

Rule  a  Wife  and  have  a  Wife.  iii.  320. 
Rumphius,    Herbarium    Amboinense    of, 

iv.  335. 

Russell,  Lady,  ii.  53. 
Russell,  poems  of,  ii.  201,  note  *. 
Rutebteuf,  the  poet.  i.  55. 
Rutgereius.  Varue  Lertiones  of.  ii.  366. 
Ruysch,  Dutch  physician,  art  of  injecting 

anatomical  preparations  perfected  bv, 

iv.  340. 
Rymer,  remarks  of,  on  tragedy,  Iv.  303. 

Saavedra,  a  political  moralist,  iii.  161. 

Sabellian  tenets,  i.  368. 

Sabinus,  George,  a  Latin  poet,  ii.  239. 

Sacchetti,  Italian  novelist,  i.  175. 

Sachs,   Hans.   German  dramatic  poet    i. 

314,  419,  434,  and  note  '. 
Saokville's  Induction   to  the  Mirrour  of 

Magistrates,  ii.  217, 262  —  his  Gorboduc, 

262. 
Sacy,  M.  de,  French  author,  iv.  37. 


39  a 


INDEX. 


SAD  SHEPHERD. 

Sad  Shepherd  of  Ben  Jonson,  iii.  258,  261, 

809. 
Sadler.  Sir  Balp'i,  embassy  of,  to  Scotland, 

i.  344. 
Sadolet,  Cardinal,  reputation  of,  i.  272, 326, 

note;  ii.  374  —  observations  of,  i.  417, 

note.  429,  442,  note  i,  466— his  desire 

for  reform,  ii.  76. 
Saint  Beuve,  selections  of,  from  Ronsard, 

ii.  211,  note  ». 
Saint  Real,   the  Abbe  de,  iv.   52,  note. 

346. 
Saiute  Marthe,  or  Sammarthanus,  Latin 

poet,  ii.  241 ;  iv.  241. 
Salamanca,  University  of,  i.  41  — lectures 

at,  by  Lebrixa,  184,  186. 
Sales,  St.  Francis  de,  writings  of,  ii.  441. 
Salfi,  Italian  poet,  iii.  222,  228,  341 ;  iv. 

276. 
Salisbury,  John  of,  History  of,  i.  28,  note  2, 

39,  note  i,  93,  195  — learning  of,  93,  95 

—  style  of,  93. 

Sallengre,  collection  of  treatises,  ii.  56. 
Sallo,  Denis  de,  publishes  the  first  review, 

iv.  291. 

Ballust,  influence  of,  ii.  356. 
Salmasius,  Claude,  erudition  and   works 

of,  ii.  368,  435  — his  Plinianee  Exerci- 

tationes  and   other   works,  368  —  De 

Lingul  HellenisticS.  362  —  controversy 

with  Milton,  368  — death  of,  iv.  9. 
Salutato,  Colluccio,   on   Plutarch,  i.  113, 

note  *  —  an  ornament  of  learning  in  the 

fourteenth  century,  104,  note  2. 
Salvator  Rosa.  sati-»°  of,  iv.  214. 
galviani's    Animalium    Aquatilium    His- 

toria,  ii.  328. 
Salviati,    his    attack    on  Tasso,  entitled 

L'Infarinato,  ii.  299. 
Salvini,  remarks  by,  iii.  221. 
Samaritan  Pentateuch,  the,  iii.  426. 
Sammarthanns,  ii.  241 ;  iv.  241. 
Sanchez  Poesias  Castellanas,  i.  52. 
Sunehez,  Thomas,  works  and  doctrine  of, 

i.  135;  ii.  115^17;  iii.  142. 
Bancroft,  Archbishop,   his  Fur  Prsedesti- 

natus,  iv.  40,  and  note. 
Sanctius,  grammar  of,  ii.  30,  37 ;   iv.  12. 
Sanctorius,  De  Medicina  Statica,  iii.  424. 
Sanderson,  an  English  casuist,  iii.  144. 
Sandys's  sermons,  ii.  91. 
Sannazaro,    the    Italian     poet,    excellent 

genius  of,  i.  269,  418  —  Latin  poetry  of, 

427,  428  ;    ii.  294  ;   iv.  241  —  Arcadia 

of,  i.  269,  418  ;  ii.  305. 
Punson,  Nicolas,  his  maps,  iv.  344. 
Santeul,   or  Santolius,   Latin    poetry  of, 

iv.  243. 

Santis,  De,  economist,  iii.  164. 
Sappho,    translated    by   Sladame  Dacier, 

iv.  13. 
Saracens  of  Spain,  i.  53  —  obligations  of 

Europe  to,  126— refinement  of.  213. 
Sarbieuski,  poet  of  Poland,  iii.  205.  note. 
Sarbievios,  Latin  poet,  iii.  264,  266. 


SCHOLASTIC  PHILOSOPHY. 

Sarpi,  Father  Paul,  ii.  324,  note  2 — hla 
account  of  the  work  of  Bellarmin,  383, 
note  J  —  his  medical  discoveries,  384  ', 
iii.  417  —  his  religious  tenets,  ii.  385. 
Bee  385,  note  2. 

Sarrazin.  French  poet,  iii.  238. 

Satire,  Origin  and  Progress  of,  by  Dryden, 
iv.  300. 

Satire  Menippee,  ii.  286. 

Saumuise,  Claude.     See  "Salmasius  " 

Saumur,  La  Forge  of,  iv.  79. 

Savigny,  quotations  from,  i.  81-86. 

Savile,  Sir  Henry,  ii.  61  —  translation  of 
Tacitus  by,  54  —  his  edition  of  Chrysos- 
tom,  ii.  3  33  —  his  treatise  on  tue  Roman 
militia.  54,  note  ',  61. 

Saxony,  Reformation  protected  in,  i.  300. 

Saxton's  map  of  England  in  1580,  ii.  344. 

Scala,  Flaniinio,  extemporaneous  comedy 
introduced  by,  iii.  273. 

Scaliger,  Joseph,  the  eminent  scholar,  ii. 
18,  44,  46,  242— chronology  of,  63,  320 

—  Julian  period  invented  by,  64  —  the 
Scaligerana,  44,  45,  and  note,  90,  note, 
338,  note  2 ;  iv.  297  — epitaph  by  Hein- 
sius  on,  ii.  44,  note  —  De  Emendatione 
Temporum  of,  63  :   ii.  379 — his  know- 
ledge of  Arabic,  £39  ;    iii.  428  — Latin 
poetry  of,  ii.  240,  note  2  —  his  opinion 
of   his    own    learning,    359,   note  2  — 
criticisms  by  the  Scaligers,  ii.  28,  note  3, 
99,  note  ',  360,  372. 

Scaliger,  Julius  Caesar,  i.  329;  ii.  44  — 
De  Causis  Latinse  Linguae,  i.  330 — his 
Poetics,  ii.  292-294  —  invective  of, 
against  the  Ciceronianus,  i.  331. 

Scandinavia,  early  poetry  of,  i.  33,  60, 
note.  —  legends  of,  iii.  243. 

Scapula,  his  abridgment  of  Stephens'* 
Thesaurus,  ii.27  —  distich  on,  ib.  note  l 

—  opinions  on  the  lexicon  of,  27,  notes. 
Scarabfeus  Aquilam  quaerit  of  Erasmus, 

i.  289,  291. 
Scarron,  Abbe,  the  Roman  Comique  of, 

iv.  309. 

Scepticism  in  the  middle  ages,  i.  153. 
Schasffer,  Peter,  his  inventions  in  printing, 

i.  166. 

Schedius,  Melissus,  iii.  265. 
Scheiner,   the  Jesuit,  optical  discoveries 

of,  iii.  394,  423. 

Schelstadt,  school  of,  i.  193.  217- 
Schism,  treat  ses  on,  ii.  409  and  note. 
Schlegel,  Frederic,  his  opinion  that   Lu- 
ther's understanding  was  tainted  with 

insanity,  i.  373. 
Schle<i«l.  'William,  his  praise  of  Calderon, 

iii.  279  —  his  criticisms  on  Shakspeure, 

298,  306,  318  — on  the  defects  of  Mo- 

liere,  iv.  256. 
Schmidt,  Erasmus,  observations  of,  ii.  94  — 

his  Pindar,  303. 
Scholastic    philosophy,   its    slow    defeat, 

i.  383  —  defended  by  the  universities, 


INDEX. 


897 


SCHOLASTIC  TREATISES. 

g  eholastic  treatises,  ii.  105.  See  "  Philoso- 
phy." 

Schools,  cathedral  and  conventual,  under 
Charlemagne  and  his  successors,  and 
their  beneficial  effects,  i.  30.  note  $  — 
state  of  English  schools  in  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII ..  34t>  —  English  institutions 
and  regulations  of,  in  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, ii.  50  —  mode  of  teaching  in,  i.  281 

—  of  Schelstadt,  Munsttr.   Emmerich. 
193.  li+i.  217— Padua,  319;   ii.  106  — 
in  Germany,  i.  125,  340. 

Science,  state  of,  i.  448;  iii.  377  — Lord 
Bacon,  De  Augment!*  Scientiarum,  34, 
et  sec/.  —  Hobbes's  Chart  of  Human,  118 

—  institutions  for  the  advancement  of, 
iv.  318.  319. 

Scioppius,  Gaspar,  controversies  of.  ii.  370, 
372— his  Infamia  Famiani.  370— his 
Judicium  de  Stylo  Historico,  ib. —  his 
grammar,  370,  373 — remarks  on  Lip- 
sius.  37. 

Scornful  Lady,  play  of,  iii.  316  and  note. 

Scot.  Reginald,  his  Discovery  of  Witch- 
craft, ii.  51,  55,  102. 

Scot  of  Scotstarvet,  Latin  elegies  of.  iii.  268. 

Scotland,  Dunbar,  poet  of.  j.  270  —  state 
of  classical  learning  in,  282 ;  ii.  54  — 
Greek  taught  in,  i.  344  —  Latin  poets 
of.  iii.  268  —  Calvini-=ts  of.  ii.  143. 

Scots  ballads,  ii.  229  —  poets,  242. 

Scott.  Michael,  pretends  to  translate  Aris- 
totle, i.  111.  note  2. 

Scott.  Sir  Walter,  ii.  289  ;  iii.  374. 

Scotti,  his  Monarchia  Solipsorum.  iii.  374. 

Scottish  dialect,  ancient  poems  in  the,  i. 
270,  421,  426,  note. 

Bcotus.  Duns,  character  and  influence  of 
his  writings,  i.  40  —  barbarous  charac- 
ter of  his  sophistry,  ib.,  note  * ;  ii.  47. 

Bcotus.  John.  Erigena,  i.  32,  195. 

Scriptures,  Holy,  first  printed  Bible,  i.  167 

—  translations  of,  184  —  editions  of  Arius 
Montanus,  ii.  103  — Ethiopic,  i.  318  — 
Alcali  Polyglot,  ib.  —  Antwerp  Poly- 
glot,   ii.   338  —  Bishops'  Bible,  104  — 
Chaldee,  i.  318  ;  ii.  338 :   iii.  425—  Cas- 
talio,   ii.  103  — Clarius,  ib.  —  Complu- 
tensian.  i.  379  :  ii.  *38  —  Danish,  i.  381  — 
English,  ii.  445  —  Tyndale's,  i.  364,  380 

—  Duport's  translation,  iv.  14  —  English 
commentators  on.  ii.  437  —  Geneva,  by 
C'overdale.  104  — Greek,  i.  318:  iv.14  — 
Hebrew,  j.  318:   ii.  339:   iii.  425— Ita- 
lian,  i.   381  —  Latin.  382 :   ii.  103  — 
Erasmus,  i.   276.  292  —  Parisian   Poly- 
clot,  iii.  426:   iv.  342—  Pagninus,  ii. 
103  —  Polish  translation.  104— tfeptua- 
gint,  ib.  —  Sclavonian.  ib.  —  Samaritan 
Pentateuch,  iii.  426— .Spanl-h.  ii.  104  — 
Syriac.  337:   iii.  425,  42«  —  .Sistine.  ii. 
103  —  Swedish.   381  —  TremellitiB  and 
Juntas,  ltJ3— Vulgate,  l</2  —  Walton's 
Pclyglot.  iv.  342  —  forty -eight  editions 
of,  prohibited  by  Rome.  ii.  354. 


SEXUAL   SYSTEM  OF  PLATTT8.  • 

Scuderi,  Mademoiselle  de,  heroic  romances 
of,  iii.  371,  372  f  iv.  221,  308. 

Scudery,  observations  on  the  Cid  of  Cor- 
neille  by,  iii.  350. 

Seba,  Adeodatus  (Beza),  ii.  240. 

Sebonde,  Raimond  de,  Natural  Theology 
of.  i.  154  ;  ii.  128. 

Seckendorf  attacks  the  motives  of  Eras- 
mus, i.  358,  note  1 — remarks  on  Luther 
by,  296. 

Secundns  Joannes,  Latin  poems  of.  i.  429 ; 
ii.  242  ;  iii.  260. 

Sedano.  his  Parnaso  Espanol.  ii.  199,  202 ; 
iii.  229. 

Segneri,  Paolo,  sermons  of,  iv.  276. 

Segni.  history  by,  i.  465. 

Segrais,  pastoral  poetry  of,  iv.  221 — his 
novels.  310  —  SegraL-iana.  &c.,  297,302. 

Seguier.  Presi'lent.  library  of.  iii.  436. 

Seicentisti,  writers  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, iii.  221, 336. 

Selden.  iii.  806  —  his  treatise  De  Jure 
Natural!  juxta  Hebraeos.  144,  145,  427, 
428  — Table-Talk  of,  ii.  437.  note  *;  iii. 
145,  note,  152  —  bis  controversy  on 
fisheries,  187  —  Arundelian  Marbles  of, 
ii.  376. 

Self-defence,  right  of.  iii.  184 ;  iv.  185. 

Selling,  Prior,  i.  240  and  note  *. 

Semi-Pelagian  tenets,  ii.  411.  414. 

Seneca,  tragedies  of,  ii.  258,  259,  356- 
Epistles  of,  iii.  148. 

Sensation.  Hobbes's  theory  of,  iii.  102  — 
definition  of.  by  Malebranche.  iv.  87. 

Sensibility,  universal,  theory  of  Campa- 
nella,  iii.  16. 

Sepulture,  rights  of,  Grotius  on,  iii.  197. 

Serafino  d'  Aquila,  Italian  poet,  i.  237, 
411. 

Serena,  Elisabetta.  ii.  ia5. 

Sergardi,  satires  of,  in  Latin.  Iv.  240. 

Serlio,  treatise  on  perspective  by,  ii. 
321. 

Sermons  of  the  sixteenth  century,  i.  375 
—  English,  ii.  438 ;  iv.  59  — French,  55, 
56. 

Serra,  Antonio,  on  the  means  of  obtaining 
money  without  mines,  iii.  162  —  on  the 
trade  of  Venice  by,  ib.  —  on  commercial 
exchange,  ib. 

Servetus.  tenets  and  works  of.  i.  368  —  his 
work  De  Trinitatis  Erroribus,  ib.  —  put 
to  death  at  Geneva,  ii.  84,  85,  86,  nott, 
424  and  note  -  —  account  of  his  Chris 
tianismi  Restitutio,  passage  therein  on 
the  circulation  of  the  blood,  i.  458;  ii. 
84.  f 5,  and  notf.* :  iii.  417,  418. 

Servitude,  domestic,  ii.  151. 

Seven  Champions  of  Christendom  by 
Johnson,  ii.  309. 

Sevigne,  Madame  de,  Letters  of.  iv.  281  — 
her  talent,  ib. — want  of  sensibility  of. 
282,  note. 

Seville  University,  lectures  at.  i.  186 

Sexual  system  cf  plants,  iv.  334. 


398 


INDEX. 


8HADWIXL. 

Shadwell,  plays  of,  iv.  273 — satire  on,  by 
Dryden,  234. 

Shakspeare,  William,  Hi.  290  —  his  poems, 
Venus  and  Adonis,  ii.  223,  271  —  Lu- 
crece,  223  —  hU  life  and  early  plays, 
269,  270,  &c.  —  few  obliterations  by 
Shakspeare,  nor  any  by  Lope  de  Vega, 
250  — his  sonnets,  iii.  253-256  —  pi :ws 
of:  Twelfth  Night.  293  — Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  #.,  294;  iv.  261  —  Much 
Ado  about  Nothing,  iii.  293—  Hamlet, 
298  —  Macbeth,  ib. — Measure  for  Mea- 
sure, ii.  263,  303;  iii.  295,  296,  298  — 
King  Lear,  296,  298  — Timon  of  Athens, 
297  — Pericles,  ii.  271,  note  » ;  iii.  299  — 
the  historical  plays  of,  ii.  277  —  Julius 
Caesar,  iii.  300  —  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
300  — Othello,  299,  301  —  Coriolanus. 
300—  Richard  Ifc,  303  — Tempest,  301 

—  his  other  plays,  300,  301,  303,  318  — 
Henry  VI.,  whence  taken,  ii.  266,  271 

—  Comedy  of  Errors,  271 ;    iv.  263  — 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream    ii.  273,  275 

—  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  272,  274 

—  Love's  Labor  Lost,  272  —  Taming  of 
the  Shrew,  273  —  Roineo  and  J  uliet, 
275-277  —  Merchant  of  Venice,  278 :  iii. 
19;  iv.  269  — As  You  Like  Jt,  ii.  279  — 
Oymbeline,  303  —  retirement  and  death 
of,  iii.  290,  note  J,  301  —  greatness  of 
his  genius,  ii.  133 ;  iii.  302 — judgment 
of,  303  —  his  obscurity  of  style,  304  — 
his  popularity,  303,  305  —  critics  and 
commentators  on  his  dramas,  A.,  306  — 
Dryden's   remarks   on,  325,  note  (see 
also  ii.  264,  note  «,  268,  291 ;  iv.  270)  — 
remarks  on  the  mode  of  spelling  the 
poet's  name,  ii.  269,  note  *. 

Sharp,  Richard,  Mr.,  remarks  of.  ir  301, 
note3. 

Sharrock,  De  Offlciis,  &c.,  iv.  160. 

Shepherd,  Life  of  Poggio  by,  i.  103,  note  », 
117. 

Shepherd's  Kalendar,  poem  of  Spenser, 
ii.  220,  302. 

Sheridan,  plays' of,  ir.  261. 

Ship  of  Fools,  the,  i.  245. 

Shirley,  dramatic  works  of,  iii.  331 ;  iv. 
272. 

Sibilet,  Thomas,  the  Art  Poetique  of, 
i.  445  —  his  Iphigenia  of  Euripides, 
434. 

Sidney,  Algernon,  his  Discourses  on  Go- 
vernment, iv.  193. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  ii.  178,  222,  263  — his 
Arcadia,  289,  290,  307-309:  iii.  439  — 
Defence  of  Poesie,  ii.  220,  264,  290,  302 

—  Astrophel   and  Stella,  222  —  poems 
of,  ib. ;   iv.  298  —  his  censure  of  the 
English  drama,  ii.  263  —  character  of 
his  prose,  289. 

Sidonius,  observations  of,  and  their  cha- 
racter, i.  43. 
Sienna,  the  Rozzi  of,  ii.  350  -  Intronati  of, 


Sigismnnd,  Emperor,  literature  encon- 
raged  by,  i.  117. 

Sigisinund  III.,  persecution  of  Protestant* 
bv,  ii.  70. 

Sigonius,  works  of,  i.  331 ;  ii.  40,  57  —  De 
Consolatione,  42  —  on  the  Athenian 
polity,  69  —  on  Roman  antiquity,  66  — 
De  Jure  Civium  Rom.  and  De  Jure 
Halite,  58  —  on  antiquities  of  Greece, 
59. 

Silvester's  translation  of  the  Creation,  or 
La  Semaine,  by  Du  Bartas,  ii.  212  — 
poems  ascribed  to,  222 ;  iii.  259. 

Simlcr.  George,  schoolmaster  of  Hesse, 
i.  264. 

Simon,  le  Pere.  iv.  46  — Critical  History 
of,  iv.  61,  342. 

Singers  of  Germany,  i.  60;  iii.  240. 

Siouita,  Hebraist,  iii.  426,  427. 

Siphon,  power  of  the,  iii.  406. 

Siniiond,  the  historian,  ii.  435. 

Sismondi,  criticisms  of,  i.  49 ;  iii.  279, 867, 
tt  passim. 

Sixtus  V.,  ii.  103,  347  — the  Sistine  Bible 
published  by,  103. 

Skelton's  rhymes,  i.  318.  421,  435. 

Slavery,  Rodin  on,  ii.  157  —  Grotius  or», 
iii.  205. 

Sleidan's  History  of  the  Reformation,  i. 
299,  note  *. 

Smetius,  Martin,  works  on  ancient  in- 
scriptions by,  ii.  375. 

Smiglecius,  the  logician,  IT.  64  and 
note  t. 

Smith,  professor  at  Cambridge,  i.  344. 

Smith,  Adam,  remarks  of,  iii.  216,  217. 

Suell,  Willibrod,  his  Cjclouiutricus,  iii. 
385  — on  refraction,  408. 

Society,  Hobbes  on  civil,  iii.  173. 

Society,  Royal,  iv.  320. 

Socinian  academy  at  Racow,  ii.  86,  418— > 
writers,  i.  368 ;  ii.  85,  86  —  Socinianisin, 
416,  419  — in  England,  iv.  42. 

Socinus,  Faustus,  ii.  85,  417. 

Socinus,  Laelius,  founder  of  the  sect  of 
Socinians,  i.  368:  ii.  86. 

Solids,  the  ratio  of,  iii.  384. 

Solinas,  his  Polyhistor.  ii.  369. 

Solis,  Antonio  de,  Conquest  of  Mexico  by, 
iv!346. 

Solon,  philosophy  of,  iii.  184. 

Sonnets,  Italian,  i.  411 ;  ii.  181  tt  sro. , 
iv.  211-214  — French,  ii.  214  — of  Mil- 
ton, iii.  263— of  Shakspeare,  263  — of 
Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  256  — 
of  the  Earl  of  Stirling,  256  —  construc- 
tion of,  257,  note  1. 

Sophia,  Princess,  iv.  32. 

Sophocles,  style  of.  iv.  226,  232. 

Sorbonne,  the,  i.  239;  iv.  37.  ii3. 

Soto,  Peter,  confessor  to  Charles  V  .  i. 
374;  ii.  82,  note  ';  iii.  143. 

Soto,  Barahona  de,  poetry  of,  ii.  203. 

Soto,  Dominic,  De  Justitil,  ii.  123,  178, 


INDEX. 


399 


SOUL. 

Son).  Descartes  on  the  immateriality  of 
the,  iii  83,  89  — on  the  seat  of,  85  — 
theory  of  Gassendi,  ir.  72  —  Male- 
branche,  90  — Locke,  137,  138. 

Soul's  Krrand,  the,  early  poem,  ii.  222. 

Sousa,  Manuel  Faria  y,  sonnets  of,  iii. 
232. 

South,  Dr.,  sermons  of,  iv.  40,  60. 

Southampton,  Lord,  friend  of  Shakspeare, 
ii.  270. 

Southern,  his  Fatal  Discovery,  iv.  271  — 
Oroonoko,  id. 

Southey,  Mr.,  his  edition  of  Hawes,  i.  315 

—  remarks  of,  ii.  305  —  edition  of  poets 
by,  iii.  244,  256,  note  ». 

Southwell,  Robert,  poems  of.  ii.  222. 

Sovereign,  and  sovereign  power,  the,  iii. 
168,  182,  183. 

Spain,  drama  of,  I.  266,  431;  ii.  249;  iii. 
273-281 ;  iv.  244  — poets  and  poetry  of, 
i.  268,  416;  ii.  199-203;  iii.  229  — bal- 
lads, i.  135.  242;  ii.  207  — novels  and 
romances.  208,  305 ;  iii.  229  and  note  i ; 
iv.  307  — Cervantes,  iii.  363  — Spanish 
and  Italian  writing  compared,  i.  417  — 
metaphysicians  of,  iii.  14  —  prose-writers 
of,  iii.  342  —  philologists  and  literati  of, 
i.  339,  438  —  Loyola  and  the  Jesuits 
of,  ii.  72  —  library  of  the  Escurial  Pa- 
lace, 348,  note  » ;  iii.  428  —  of  Alcala 
and  Salamanca,  ii.  348  —  revival  of 
literature  in,  i.  185  —  learning  in.  339 

—  under  Philip  II.,  ii.  53,  199  — the 
Inquisition  of,  69,  354.    See  "  Poetry," 
"  Drama." 

Spanish  Curate  of  Fletcher,  iii.  314,  321, 
note. 

Spanheim,  Ezekiel,  numismatics  of,  ii. 
377  ;  iv.  11,  21  —  his  edition  of  Julian, 
11. 

Spee,  German  poet,  iii.  240. 

Speech,  human,  and  brute  sounds,  com- 
parison between,  iii.  413,  414. 

Speed,  maps  of,  in  1646,  iii.  431. 

Spelman,  Glossary  of,  iv.  292. 

Spencer,  De  Legibus  Hebraeorum,  iv.  343. 

Spener,  writings  of,  iv.  45. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  his  school  of  poetry, 
iii.  244,  248  —  his  Shepherd's  Kalendar, 
ii.  219.  302  — his  Epithalamium,  223  — 
the  Faery  Queen  of,  230-237  —  com- 
pared with  Ariosto,  232  —  his  Dialogue 
upon  the  State  of  Ireland,  291. 

Sperone  Speroni,  his  tragedy  of  Canace, 
i.  431  —  dialogues  of,  395",  441. 

Spiegel,  Dutch  poet,  his  works,  iii.  242. 

Spinosa,  system  of,  ii,  107  —  the  Tracta- 
tus  Theologico-Politicus  of,  iv.  46  — 
Ethics  or  Moral  System  of,  104  et  seq., 
151  —  politics  of,  187  —  Spinosism. 
116. 

Spiritual  dramas  of  Spain  and  Portugal, 
i.  266. 

Spondanus,  continuator  of  the  Annals  of 
Barouius,  ii.  43i 


STIIXINGFLKET. 

Sprengel.  botanical  and  medi3al  remarks 
of,  ii.  331,  336;  iii.  418,  note.  419,  423, 
note,  424 ;  iv.  330. 

St.  Vincent,  Gregory,  geometry  of,  iii. 
385. 

Stael.  Madame  de.  her  Corinne,  i.  106, 
note  3  —  observations  of,  on  Konieo  and 
Juliet,  ii.  276. 

Stan-,  Lord,  work  by,  iii.  91,  note  ». 

Stampa.  Gaspara,  an  Italian  poetess,  ii. 
186,  187,  189. 

Stanley,  Thomas,  History  of  Ancient  Phi- 
losophy  by,  iv.  16,  66,  and  note  l  —  hi* 
edition  of'^schylus,  16. 

Stanyhurst,  translator,  ii.  226. 

Stapulensis,  Faber,  i.  285  —  conduct  of, 
355  —  edition  of  the  Scriptures  by,  382. 

Star  Chamber,  the,  ii.  355. 

States,  Bodin  on  the.  rise  and  fell  of,  ii. 
157. 

Statics,  treatise  of  Stevinus  on,  ii.  323. 

Stationarii,  or  booksellers,  i.  252. 

Stationers'  Company  founded  in  1555,  ii 
355 — its  restrictions  on  the  press,  ib. 

Statistics,  writers  on,  iv.  207  —  statistical 
topography,  iii.  163,  164. 

Statius,  Achilles,  or  Estate,  a  Portuguese 
commentator,  ii.  22. 

Statius,  Thebaid  of,  ii.  294 ;  iv.  224. 

Steele,  Conscious  Lovers  of,  iv.  275,  note 

Steevens,  commentator  on  Shakspeare.  ii 
266,  note  *.  271,  note  i :  iii.  254,  299, 
305. 

Stellatus,  Palingenius,  the  Zodaicus  Vitse 
of,  i.  429. 

Stephens,  Henry  i.  266 — his  erudition,  ii. 
23  —  his  press  celebrated,  24  —  Life  of, 
by  Maittaire,  ib. note3  —  by  Almeloveen 
and  other  biographers,  ib.  note  —  hia 
Thesaurus  Linguae  Latinse,  25-27  — • 
his  own  testimony  on  various  lexicons, 
i.  329,  note;  ii.  25,  note  »  —  Scapula's 
abridgment  of  the  Thesaurus  of,  27  — 
dies  in  poverty,  ib.  —  his  philological 
works,  36,  300  ;  iv.  289  —  Latin  epi- 
grams, ii.  240  —  forbidden  to  print.  3i>4 
—  Apology  for  Herodotus  by,  i.  375  — 
his  treatise  on  the  conformity  of  the 
French  and  Greek  languages,  ii.  300. 

Stephens.  Robert,  Thesaurus  of,  5.  336  — 
the  Novum  Testamentum  Graecum, 
&c.,  edited  by,  380 ;  ii.  28,  note,  102, 
374. 

Stcvinuo,  Simon,  his  statics  and  hydrosta- 
tics, ii.  323 ;  iii.  404. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  metaphysical  works  of 
ii.  129,  150 :  iii.  44,  72,  note  *,  96,  101J 
113,  note  »,  213,  219;  IT.  131,  note  —  his 
remarks  on  Descartes,  iii.  87  —  on  Gro 
tius,  213  — on  Gassendi.  iv.  76,  77. 

Stifclius.  Michael,  ii.  312.  313;  iii.  378. 

Still.  John,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  ii 
261. 

StJliingfleet,  writings  and  tenets  of,  iv.  34 
41.61,138. 


400 


INDEX. 


STIRLING. 

Stirling,  Earl  of,  sonnets  of,  ili.  266— his 

poem  of  Domesday,  id.  note  2. 
Stirpium  AdTei-saria  by  Pena  and  Lobel,  ii. 

ooo 
WSh 

Stobieus,  edition  of,  by  Grotius,  ii.  366. 
Stockwood,  John,  his  Progymnasma  Scho- 

lasticuni,  ii.  52,  note  *. 
Strada,  Famianus,  ii.  309  —  his  Decades,  ib. 

—  character  of  his  imitations,    ib.  — 
the  Prolusiones  Academics  of,  iii.  342. 

Strasburg,  books  published  at,  ii.  352  — 
library  of,  i.  468. 

Strigelius,  Loci  Theologici  of,  ii.  98. 

Strozzi,  poem  on  chocolate  by,  iv.  240. 

Strype,  John,  his  Life  of  Smith,  i.  344  and 
note  3  —  remarks  of,  ii.  139. 

Stunica.  Spanish  commentator,  i.  319. 

Sturm,  John,  his  treatise  on  education  in 
Germany,  i.  340. 

guard,  remarks  of,  on  the  French  theatre, 
ii.  258,  note  ». 

Suarez  of  Granada,  his  treatise  De  Legi- 
bus,  iii.  138-143  —  titles  of  his  ten 
books,  138  —  his  definition  of  eternal 
law,  140  —  his  metaphysical  disputa- 
tions, 14  —  theory  of  government,  158 

—  his  work  and  opinions  on  laws,  159, 
177. 

Suckling,  Sir  John,  poetry  of,  iii.  269. 

Sugar-cane,  first  mention  of,  ii.  331. 

Suidas,  proverb  quoted  from,  i.  203  —  his 
Lexicon,  231. 

Bun,  spots  of  the,  discovered  by  Harriott, 
Fubricius,  and  Scheiner,  iii.  394  —  its 
revolution  round  its  axis,  ib. 

Supposes,  the,  play  of,  ii.  261. 

Supralapsarian  tenets,  ii.  412. 

Surrey,  Earl  of,  his  style  of  poetry  de- 
scribed, i.  421-427  —  the  introducer  of 
blank  verse,  424  —  his  polished  lan- 
guage, 426  — remarks  of  Dr.  Nott,  422, 
424  —  poems  of,  ii.  215  —  character  of, 
by  Sidney,  220. 

Surville,  Clotilde  de,  a  supposed  French 
poetess,  i.  180. 

Swabian  period  of  German  poetry,  i.  68. 

Swammerdam,  naturalist,  iii.  413  ;  iv. 
328. 

Sweynheim,  the  printer,  i.  200.  252. 

Swift,  Dean,  iv.  310  —  his  Tale  of  a  Tub, 
317. 

Suis? et,  Richard,  author  of  the  Calculator, 
i.  131. 

Switzerland,  the  Reformation  begun  by 
Zwingle  at  Zurich,  i.  301  —  doctrines  of 
the  Protestants  of,  ii.  87. 

Sword,  the  Pen  and  the,  Andrea's  parable 
of,  iii.  153,  note  *. 

Sydenham,  medical  theory  of,  iv.  341. 

Sylburgius,  his  Greek  grammar,  ii.  29,  31, 
861 ;  iv.  4  —  his  Aristotle  and  Dion}  sius, 
ii.  31. 

Syllogism.     See  "  Logic." 

Sylvius.  Dutch  physician,  i.  468;  iii.  416; 
"  iv.  341. 


Sylvius,  the  French  grammarian,  1.  279. 

Synergists,  tenets  of,  ii.  80. 

Syntagma  Philosophicum  of  Gasrcndi.  IT 

71,  77, 125. 
Sjriac  version  of  the  Bible,  ii.  337,  338 , 

iii.  427  —  the  Jlaronite  college  of  Mount 

Libauus,  ib. 

Taberneemontanus,  ii.  334. 

Table-talk  of  Selden,  ii.  437,  note  * ;  iu 
145,  note  '. 

Tacitus,  the  Annals  of,  i.  273;  ii.  366  — 
Lipsius's  edition  of,  ii.  21  —  Suvile's 
translation  of,  54  —  Davauzati's  transla- 
tion of,  283. 

Tale  of  a  Tub  by  Swift,  iv.  317  —  compari- 
son of,  with  the  Puutagruel  of  Rabelais, 
i.  439. 

Talmud,  the  study  of  the,  iii.  427. 

Talon,  Omer,  treatise  on  eioquenre.  ii. 
121  —  Institutiones  Oratoriae  of,  300. 

Tambxirlaine,  play  of,  ii.  265. 

Tancrcd  and  Sigismunda,  iii.  278. 

Tansillo,  Italian  poet,  his  La  Bulia,  ii.  185, 
241. 

Tapsensis,  Tigilius,  the  African  bishop, 
works  of,  reviewed,  iv.  292. 

Tartaglia,  Nicolas,  his  solution  of  cubic 
equations  in  algebra,  i.  449  —  unfairly 
published  by  Cardan,  ii.  311  —  his  me- 
chanics, 321. 

Tasso.  Bernardo,  ii.  185  — his  Amadigi, 
190  — celebrated  sonnet  by,  190,  note  ». 

Tasso,  Torquato,  the  Gierusalenime  Libe- 
rate of,  ii.  193  et  set/..  298;  iv.  224  — 
comparison  of,  with  Homer,  Virgil,  and 
Ariosto,  ii.  193,  196.  197  —  excellence 
of  his  style,  194  —  his  conceits,  195  — 
defect*  of  the  poem,  196  —  Fairfax's 
translation,  226  —  his  peculiar  genius, 
196  —  the  Aminta  of,  246  —  hi*  Tor- 
rismond,  a  tragedy,  24o  —  his  prose 
writings,  281  —  Galileo's  remarks  on, 
iii.  341. 

Tassoni.  his  observations  on  the  poetry  of 
Bern  bo,  i.  412  —  on  Petrarch,  &<•..  iii. 
340  —  Secchia  Rapita  of,  225  —  remarks 
of,  iii.  438. 

Tauler's  sermons,  i.  71, 151 ;  iii.  22. 

Taurellus,  Nicholas,  his  Alpes  Caesse,  ii. 
108,  note  '. 

Tavannes.  political  memoirs  by,  ii.  148. 

Tavelegus,  grammar  of,  i.  348.  note. 

Tavernier,  his  travels  in  the  East,  iv.  346. 

Taxation.  Bodin  on,  ii.  164. 

Taylor,  Edgar,  Lays  of  the  Minnesingers 
by,  i.  59.  note  2. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  ii.  364,  408.  425  —  his 
liissnasive  from  Poperr,  iv.  33,  61  — 
sermons  of,  ii.  489  —  devotional  writ- 
ings of,  440  —  his  Ductor  Dubitantium, 
iv.  148,  167,  165  — its  character  and  de- 
fects, 148  —  his  Liberty  of  Prophesy  ing, 
ii.  425 :  iv.  61  —  boldness  of  his  doc- 
trine, ii.  426 —  his  defence  of  toleration, 


INDEX. 


401 


TAYLOR. 

430,  431  — effect  of  his  treatise,  433  — 
its  defects,  434  —  his  Defence  of  Episco- 
pacy, ib. 

Taylor.  Brook.  Contemplate  Philosophies 
of,  ui.  80,  note. 

Teleuiachus.  Fenelon's,  iv.  311. 

Telescope,  invention  of  the,  iii.  406  — 
Dutch,  or  spymg-glasses,  407. 

Telesio.  Bernard.  De  Xaturi  Rp.rum  of,  ii. 
109;  iii.  15,  16,  17,  32. 

Tellez,  a  Spanish  metaphysician,  iii.  14. 

Temple,  Sir  vVilliaui.  iv.  17,  303  —  his  de- 
fence of  antiquity,  306. 

Tenneman  on  the  origin  of  modern  philo- 
sophy, i.  33,  note  *. 

Tepel,  his  History  of  the  Cartesian  Philo- 
sophy, iv.  79,  note  !. 

Terence,  comedies  of.  first  printed  as  verse, 
i.  277  — editions  of.  ii.  14. 

Teresa,  St.,  vrritinjrs  of,  ii.  441 :  iii.  249. 

Testi,  imitator  of  Horace,  iii.  22S. 

Teutonic  languages,  the.  i.  33,  145. 

Textus  Kavisius,  the  Officina  of.  i.  350. 

Theatres,  i.  224 — in  London,  ii.  263;  iii. 
290,  291  —  closed  by  Parliament.  292  — 
Davenant's,  in  the  Charter-house,  iv. 
266 — Duke  of  York's,  in  Drury  Lane, 
ib. — in  Lincoln's-iun-fieljs,  ib.  —  thea- 
trical machinery  of  fifteenth  centurv, 
i.  223  —in  Paris,  ii.  257,  260  —  the  first 
French  theatre,  i.  224  — the  Parisian 
company  of  Enfans  de  Sans  Souci.  245, 
313—  the  early  Engiish  drama.  435;  ii. 
261.  &c  See  "  Drama." 

Theobald,  commentator  on  Shakspeare,  iii. 
305. 

Theocritus,  i.  231,  277 :  ii.  219.  246. 

Theodore.  Archbishop,  influence  of.  in 
propagation  of  grammatical  learning, 
i.  29. 

Theodorie  persecutes  Boethius.  i.  26. 

Theodosius,  code  of  the  Emperor,  i.  81 ;  iv. 
209. 

Theodosius,'  the  geometrician,  i.  448. 

Theologia  Moralis  of  Escobar,  iii.  137. 

Theology,  system  of.  i.  35  —  public  schools 
of.  in  Italy,  41  —  controversial,  ii.  93  — 
scholastic  method  of,  i.  35 :  ii.  97  —  na- 
tural, iii.  44  :  iv.  322  —  Socinian,  i.  368 ; 
ii.  85.  416  —  English  writers  on.  91,  97  ; 
iv.  45.  54,  56  —  theological  doctrine,  ii. 
97  —  faith,  i.  211  —  literature,  374:  ii 
66.  3S2.  4:55:  iv.  24-62. 

Theophrastus  on  plants,  ii.  335  —  lectures 
by  Duport  on.  iv.  14  —  his  Characters, 
174  _  on  botany,  i.  459.  460. 

Theosophists,  sect  of,  iii.  22. 

Thermometer,  the,  iv.  323. 

Thevenot,  travels  of.  iv.  346. 

Thiliault,  King  of  Navarre,  Troubadour, 

i.  54. 
Thomists.  the  sect  of,  i.  335;  ii.  105.    See 

"  Aquinas." 

Thomson,  Dr.,  on  anatomy,  iv.  329  —  His- 
tory of  Chemistry,  i.  132,  note  l. 


TRAVELS. 

Thomson's  History  of  the  Royal  Society 

iv.  320,  note. 

Thouars,  M.  du  Petit,  ii.  333. 
Thuanus.  M.  de  Thou,  Latin  style  cf,  ii 

371,372:  iii.  436. 

Thucydides,  editors  of.  ii.  15  :  iv.  16. 
Thy  aid,  the  French  poet,  ii.  210. 
Thvsius,  a  French  critic,  ii.  367. 
Tibaldeo,  Italian  poet,  i.  237,  411. 
Tieck,  Professor,  remarks  on  Shakspeare 

by.  ii.  269,  note  >. 
Tiedemann,  remarks  of,  i.  36. 
Tifemas,  George,  teacher  of  Greek  at  Paris, 

i.  194. 
Tillotson,  Archtohop,  ii.  409 ;  iv.  41, 42  — 

his  sermons,  ii.  417,  note  - ;  iv.  42  —  Ar- 

miuian  tenets  of,  41. 
Tintoret.  paintings  of,  ii.  198. 
Tiptol't,  Earl  of  A'orcester,  i.  177. 
Tiraboschi  quoted,  i.  28,  note,  30,  note, 

106,  note  »,  460 ;  ii.  41,  note,  61,  et  pas- 
sim. 
Titus  Andronicus,   not  a  play  of  Shak- 

speare's,  ii.  271. 
Tobacco-plant,  supposed  earliest  notice  of, 

in  1578,  ii.  331. 
Toleration  of  religions,  ii.  160,  423,  430, 

431. 
Toletus,  the  Jesuit,  his  Sumnia  Casuum 

Conscicntise.  iii.  137. 
Tolley.  Greek  grammar  of,  i.  347,  note  *. 
Tolomei,  Claudio,  ii.  1,35,  192. 
Tonelli,    his    notes    on    Poggio,    i.    104, 

note  1. 

Torelli.  his  tragedy  of  Merope,  ii.  245. 
Torrentius.  Horace  of,  ii.  384. 
Torricelli,  high  merit  of,  iii.  337  —  hydrau- 
lics of.  404. 

Tortus,  Matthew,  answer  of.  ii.  333- 
Toscanelli.  Gnomon  in  Florence  Cathedral 

bv.  i.  198  and  note  *. 
Tostatus,  Alfonsus.  i.  185. 
Totters  Miscellanies,  ii.  215. 
Toulouse,  University  of,  i.  38,  note  *. 
Tourneboeuf.     See  "  Turnebus." 
Toumefort,  his  Elemens  de  la  Botaniqae 

iv.  332,  333. 

Tourneur,  Le.  dramatist,  iii.  334. 
Tou-^iiu.  eminent  scholar,  i.  333  :  ii.  17. 
Toutain,  his  Agamemnon,  from  Seneca,  ii. 

258. 
Toxophilus,  or  Treatise  on  Archery,  by 

As'cham.  i.  443. 
Trade,  on  foreign,  iv.  204. 
TrM.vly,  Italian,  i.  273.  431:   iii.  271  -  - 
Spanish,  ii.  253:   iii.   273  —  French,  ii. 

257:   iii.  281  et  seq.—  English.  ±.'7  '< 

seq.  —  ancient  Greek,  iv  225  —  Rymer 
on.  303.     See  "  Drama." 
Translating.  Dryden  oa  the  art  of.  iv.  302. 
Transubstantiation,  controversy  on.  ii.  78, 

note. 

Travels,  early  writers  of.  i.  270  — later 
writers  of,  "iv.  345,  346.  See  '  Geogra- 
phy •'  and  -i  Voyages." 


VOL.    IV. 


402 


INDEX. 


TRAVXRBATSI. 

Trayersari,  Ambrogio,  on  profane  litera- 
ture, i.  114  —  on  translations  from  the 

Greek,  118. 
Treaties,  public,  iii.  193,  209  —  truces  and 

conventions.  210. 
Tremellius.    the    Hebrew   critic,  ii.   103, 

338. 
Trent,  the  Council  of.  its  proceedings  and 

history,  i.  371 ;  ii.  78  and  note,  82,  385, 

401. 
Trevisa's    translation   of  Higden's  Poly- 

chronicon,  i.  317,  note. 
Triglandius,    a    notable    theologian     at 

Utrecht,  iii.  98. 
Trigonometry,  calculations  of  Kegiomon- 

tanus  iu,  i.  198,  199. 
Trinitarian  controversy,  the,  i.  368;   ii. 

84-86  and  note;   iv.  42.      See  "Soci- 

nian." 

Triquero,  Spanish  dramatist,  ii.  253. 
Trismegistus,  Hermes,  philosophy  of,  coun- 
terfeited, i.  213. 
Trissino,  principles  of  his  Italia  Liberata, 

i.  366,  414. 

Tristan  of  Leonois,  i.  148,  note  ». 
Trithemius,  Annales  Hirsargiensis   of,  i. 

166. 
Trivium,  mode  of  education,  i.  27,  note  J ; 

.  ii.  347. 

Troubadours  and  Provencal  poets,  i.  63. 
Troye,  Kecueil  des  Histoires  de,  of  Raoul 

le  Fevre,  printed  by  Caxton,  i.  173. 
Truth,  intuitive,  on,  iii.  95. 
Trypho,  Greek  treatises  of,  i.  332. 
Tubingen  monastery,  Hebrew  taught  in, 

i.  266. 
Tulpius,    Observationes    Medics;    of,    iii. 

412. 

Turamini,  De  Legibus,  ii.  173. 
Turberville,  poems  of,  ii.  218,  223. 
Turenne,  Marshal,  iv.  29,  68. 
Turkish  Spy,  the,  iii.  151,  note ;  iv.  314- 

317  and  notes. 
Turks,  Knolles's  History  of  the,  iii.  355  — 

the  Turkish  language,  429. 
Turuebus,    i.    338  —  his    translations    of 

Greek  classics  into  Latin,  ii.  17  —  his 

Adversaria,  18,  366  —  Montaigne's  cha- 
racter of,  18  —  his  reputation,  24  —  his 

Ethics  of  Aristotle,  33. 
Turner,  Dr.,  his  New  Herbal,  ii.  330  — 

his  Avium  Precipuarum  Historia,  i. 

461. 
Turner's  History  of  England,  5.  27,  note  ', 

29,  note  \  31,  note  »,  33,  note  i,  37, 

note  i,  146,  note  '. 
Turpin,  romance  of  Charlemagne  by,  i 

50,  note  2,  146,  note  '. 
Tiirrecremata,  Joannes  de,  bis  Explanatit 

in  PsjUturium,  i.  172. 
Tuscan  language,  i.  467. 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  iii.  318,  nott.  ». 
Tycho  Brahe,  mundane  system  of,  ii.  319 
et  set/.  —  his  discovery  as  to  the  path  of 

cornets,  320 ;  iii.  890. 


VAIB. 

Tymme,  Thomas,  translations  by,  i.  897. 
Tyndale's    the    first   English  version   of 

the  New  Testament,  i.  364,  380,  381 

note  2. 
Tyrwhitt's  observations  on  Chaucer,  i.  52, 

note  2,  424. 
Twining  on  the  Poetics  of  Aristotle,  ii 

296. 
Tyrannicide,  writers  in  favor  of,  ii.  140- 

144;  iii.  154,  155. 

Ubaldi,  Guido,  geometrical  treatises  of,  ii 

321. 
Udal,  Nicholas,  i.  343, 437  —  his  comedy  of 

lUlph  Roister  Doister,  437  ;  ii.  261. 
Uguccio,  the  lexicographer,  i.  100. 
Ulpian  on  the  Roman  law,  ii.  171. 
Understanding,  Malebranche  on  the,  IT. 

94  —  Locke's  Essay  on  the  Human,  122. 

145. 
Unitarians,  Polish  and  German,  iv.  42. 

See  also  "Sociuus."' 
Universal  language,  on  a,  by  Dalgarno,  iv 

121. 
Universal  ideas,  question  of  the  reality  of 

iv.  112  —  how  formed,  ib. 
Universities,  origin  of  the  name,  i.  38. 

note  2  —  of  Paris,  35  —  its  succession  of 

early  professors,  37,  38  —  of  Bologna,  38 

—  of  Cambridge,  39;    ii.   347— Edin- 
burgh and  Glasgow,  ii.  54, 347  —  Frank- 
fort, i.  293— Montpellier,  i.  38,  note  » 

—  Germany,  ii.  365  — Oxford,  i.  39;  ii. 
347;    iii.  433— Pisa,  ii.  346—  Witten- 
burg,  i.  293  — of  Padua,  5.  41 ;  ii.  340 ; 
iii.  14  —  of  Toulouse,  i.  38,  note  * —  Cor- 
dova   and    Granada,    i.    39 —  Italian 
universities,  ii.  43,  346;   iii.  433  — of 
Leyden,  ii.  347  — of  Altdorf  and  Helm- 
st.-iilt.  ib.  —  of  Copenhagen,  i.  341 — of 
Marburg,  if/.  —  of  Konigsberj?,   ib.  — 
of  Jena,   ib.—of  Seville,   i.   186  — of 
Salamanca,  ib.  —  of  Alcali.  ib.  —  state 
of.    in    the   seventeenth    century,   iii. 
433. 

Urban  VIII.,  Matthei  Barberini,  ii.  388 ; 

iii.  265,  266. '339. 
Urbino,  Francis,  Duxe  of,  ii.  60. 
Urbino,   house  of,   patrons    of   learning, 

i.  234. 

Ursatus  on  antiquities,  iv  20. 
Ursinus,  Fulvius,  antiquary,  ii.  69. 
Usher,  Archbishop,  ii.  435.  437  —  forms  th« 

library  of  Trinity   College,  Dublin,  iii. 

435  —  his  Annals  of  the  OKI  Testament, 

iv.  22  — his  Chronology,  21. 
Usury.  Gerard  Noodt  on,  iv.  210. 
Utopia  of  More,  i.  283,  284  — origin  of  tht 

word,  283,  note  l. 

Vacarius,  teacher  at  Oxford  in  1149,  i.  39, 

note  ». 

Vaillant,  work  on  medals  by,  iv.  21. 
Vair.  Du,  criticisms  on  the  style  of,  ii.  285 

iii.  351. 


DTDEX. 


403 


TA1.DES. 

Valdes,  a  Spanish  teacher  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, i.  369. 

Vaieurinian  by  Flet-her,  iii.  317. 

Vaierianus.  lie  Infeiicitate  Litteratorum, 
i  325.  note. 

Valla,  Laurentius,  works  and  criticisms 
of.  i.  lol,  ISl.  204  — silence  of,  as  to 
the  three  heavenly  witnesses,  iii.  64, 
note  i. 

Valle,  Pietro  della,  his  travels,  iii.  430. 

Vallee.  pamphlet  of.  against  Christianity, 
ii.  101. 

TaloU,  Henry,  philological  works  of.  IT. 
14. 

Van  Dule  on  ancient  oracles,  iv.  280. 

Vaubrugh,  Sir  J.,  dramas  of,  IT.  262. 
275. 

Van  Helmont,  chemist,  iii.  423 :  ST.  321. 

Vanini.  Lucilio.  burnt  at  P:irU.  ii.  442  — 
character  of  his  writings,  ib.  443. 

Varchi,  history  by.  i.  4t>5 —  his  dialogues, 
or  Ercolano.  ii.  297  —  his  praise  of 
Dante  above  Homer.  298. 

Varenius,  Syntaxis  Gratcae  Linguae  of,  i. 
335. 

Varilas,  historian,  iv.  346. 

Variae  Lectiones  of  Victorias,  ii.  18  — 
Jluretu>,  19,  367  —  Rutgersius,  366  — 
Keinesius.  ib. 

Variorum  editions  of  the  classics,  iv. 
12. 

Varoli.  the  Anatonm  of,  ii.  336. 

Vasa,  Gustavus.  confiscates  ecclesiastical 
property,  i.  352. 

Vasari.  his'  paintings  in  the  Sistiue  Chapel, 
ii.  73. 

Vasquez.  law-writer,  ii.  179 ;  iii.  14. 

Vasquius.  iii.  140. 

Vassan.  de,  M.,  the  Scaligerana  Secunda 
of.  ii.  37. 

Vatable.  professor  of  Hebrew,  i.  337. 

Vatican,  library  of.  i.  157.  468 :  ii.  347. 

Vaugelas,  M.  de,  Remarks  on  the  French 
language  by,  iii.  351:  iv.  283 —  dic- 
tionary edited  by.  iii.  351. 

Vaumoriere.  I>e,  iii.  370. 

Vaux,  Nicholas.  Lord,  poet,  i.  421.426 ;  ii. 
216. 

Vega,  Garcilasso  de  la,  i.  416 ;  ii.  199. 

Vega,  Lope  de.  Spanish  plnys  of.  ii.  203, 
no««!.  250:  iii.  273.  274  — his  fertility 
and  rapidity  of  composition,  ii.  251  — 
versification.  251  —  popularity.  252  — 
comedieo,  252 —  tragedies.  253 — spirit- 
ual plays  of.  255. 

Vegetable  physiology,  iv.  333- 

Vegetable  productions,  on.  ii.  330. 

Vegius,  Haphffius,  Jsueid  continued  by, 

i.  204  :  ii.  294. 
Veiasquez,  history  of  Spanish  pcetry  by 

ii  201,203. 

Veldek,  Henry  of.  i  53. 
VeJthuvsen,  De  justi  et  Decori.  tc.,  iv 
150." 

Venesection  introduced,  iii.  416. 


VUit-'KXT. 

Venfce,  contest  of  Pope  Paul  V.  with,  H. 

383  —  republic  of,  i.  406:   IT.  190,  192. 

note  1  — its  commerce  and  government, 

iii   163 — Academy  of,  ii.  350  —  libraries 

of.  i.  469. 

Venus,  transit  of.  over  the  sun,  iii.  399. 
Veracity,  Puffendorf  on,  iv.  ltJ9. 
Verdier.    Bibliotheqae    Francaise  by,   ii 

301,353. 
Vergara,  Greek  grammar  of,  i.  335  ;   ii 

28. 
Vergerio.    Peter    Paul,    an   early    Greek 

translator,  i.  117  —  his  pamphlet  on  th« 

Orlando  Innamorato.  365,  note. 
Verona,  Two  Gentlemen  of,  ii.  272. 
Vertunk-n,  Francis,  collections  of,  ii.  44, 

note  i. 
Vesalius,   De  Corporis  Hnmani  Fabric!, 

i.  456  —  his  anatomical  discoveries.  457 ; 

ii.  334.  335  — his  disgrace  and  death, 

i.  458.    See  also  iii.  416. 
Vesling.  anatomist,  writings  of.  iii.  423. 
Vespucci.  Amerioo.  discoveries  of.  i.  271. 
Vettori.  Peter,  edition  of  Cicero  by,  i.  330 

—  his   Greek  erudition,  332  —  Virus 

Lectiones  of,  ii.  18  —  Huet's  opinion  of, 

ib. 

Vicente.  Gil.  dramas  of.  i.  266,  433. 
Vico.  Eneas,  on  numismatics,  ii.  61,  349.  • 
Victor   Viteneis,  edition    by    Chiflet,  ir. 

292. 
Victoria.  Francis  i,  Relertiones  Theologicie 

of.  ii.  175,  180  —  opinions  of,  on  public 

law.  175. 

Vktorin  of  Feltre.  i.  105.  120. 
Victorius,  Petrus,  i.  393:  ii.  18.  19,22. 
Vida  of  Cremona.  Latin  poet,  i.  427,  466; 

iv.  241  — Are  Poetica  of,  ii.  294. 
Vidxil.  Raymond,  his  Provencal  grammar, 

i.  48.  note  *. 

Vidus  Vidius.  anatomist,  i.  458;  ii.  336. 
Vienna,   public    library    at,   L  469 ;     ii. 

347. 
Vieta  (Francis  Viete).  his  reputation  as  an 

algebraist,  i.  450,  451 :  ii.  313  -mathe- 
matical works  of,  iii.  3S5  —  algebra  of, 

387. 
Vieussens.  discoveries  by,  hi  the  anatomy 

of  the  nerves,  iv.  339. 
Viger.  or  Vigerius,  de  Idiotismis,  ii.  360. 
Vigilius  Tapsensis.  iv.  292. 
Vigneul  >larville.  or  M.  D'Argonne.   iii 

345  :  iv.  283,  286.  note  1  —  his  Melanges 

de  Litterature.  297. 
Vignola,  on  perspective  by.  ii.  321. 
Villedieu  (or  Dee  Jardins),  Madame,  n<y 

vels  of.  IT.  309. 
Villegas,  Manuel  Estevan  de,  poems  of,  iii 

230. 

Villiers.  essay  on  the  influence  of  the  Re- 
formation, i.  308,  note  *. 
Villon.  French  poems  of.  i.  219. 
Vincent  de  Beauvais.  i.  133.  134. 
Vincent,  St.  Gregory,  treatise  on  geometry 

of,  iii.  385. 


404 


INDEX. 


VINCBNTE. 

Vincente  introduces  regular  drama  in  Eu- 
rope, i.  266. 

Vincentius  Lirinensis,  ii.  407,  415. 

Vinci,  Leonardo  da,  i.  228,  229. 

Viner,  abridgment  of  law  by,  iv.  210. 

Vinnius,  commentaries  of,  ii.  168  ;  iii. 
176. 

Virgil,  Bucolics  of,  1.  282,  343;  iv.  221— 
MaeiA  of,  ii.  204  ;  iv.  224  —  continua- 
tion by  Maphseus,  1.  204, 205 ;  ii.  294  — 
Caro's  Italian  translation,  192  —  imita- 
tion of  the  Georgics  of,  iv.  242  —  Tasso 
compared  with,  ii.  193,  195,  247  — Ca- 
moens  compared  with,  204  —  Homer 
compared  with,  293. 

Virgil,  Polydore,  i.  240. 

Visconti,  contributor  to  the  Biographie 
Universelle,  iv.  20,  note  *. 

Vise,  the  Mercure  Galant  of,  iv.  292. 

Vitelli,  Cornelio,  i.  240. 

Vitello,  treatise  on  optics  of,  i.  129,  448  ; 
ii.  321. 

Vitensis,  Victor,  the  African  bishop,  works 
of.  iv.  292. 

Vitiis  Sermonis,  de,  treatise  by  G.  Vossiui, 
ii.  372. 

Vitruvius  on  architecture,  i.  227. 

Vives,  writings  of,  i.  337,  374.  385,  note  » 
'  — attack  on  the  scholastics  by.  385  — 
preceptor  to  the  Princess  Mary,  ib. 

Viviani,  solution  of  the  area  of  the  cycloid 
by,  iii.  385  ;  iv.  319. 

Vlacq,  the  Dutch  bookseller,  iii.  381. 

Voet,  Gisbert,  Dissertationes  Theologicae  of, 
ii.  437  —  controversy  of,  with  Descartes, 
iii.  98. 

Voiture.  letters  of,  ii!.  71.  346,  347  —  poetry 
of,  238 ;  iv.  281,  286.  note. 

Volkelius,  De  VerS  Keligione,  ii.  417  and 
notes  3,  4. 

Volpone  of  Ben  Jonson,  iii.  307. 

Voltaire,  sarcasms  of,  iii.  287 ;  iv.  47  —  re- 
marks of,  ii.  193,  203 ;  iv.  115,  123,  346 
—  poetry  of,  i.  208  ;  iv.  220  —  his 
dramatic  works,  248,  277  — his  style, 
281. 

Vondel,  Dutch  poet,  iii.  242. 

Voragine,  James  of,  Golden  Legend  of, 
i.  147. 

Vossius,  Gerard,  philological  works  of,  11. 
30,  note  ',  372-374;  iv.  10  — Historia 
Pelagiana  by,  ii.  415,  note  *. 

Vossius,  Isaac,  Catullus  and  Pomponius 
Mela  of,  iv.  10 — Aristarchus  of.  12. 

Voyages,  early  writers  of,  i.  270,  464 ;  ii. 
340,  841 ;  iii.  429  — English  voyages  of 
discovery,  ii.  342  ;  iv.  345. 

Vulgate,  translations  of,  printed  at  Delft 
In  1497,  i.  382. 

Wafer,  consecrated,  discussion  on,  by  Des- 
cartes and  Arnauld,  Iii.  93. 

Wace,  poems  of,  1.  68. 

Wakefield,  Robert,  lectures  at  Cambridge 
by,  i.  842 ;  ii.  339. 


WHI  STOIC. 

Waldensei-.,  poems  attribute-!  to  the,  i.  60 

note. 

Waldis,  Burcard,  German  fabulist,  ii   215 
Waller,  poetry  of.  Hi.  257;  iv.  £M.  234- 

panegyric  on  Cromwell  by,  223. 
Wallis,  history  of  algebra  by,  i.  452:    ii 

313;  iii.  387  — his  InstitutioLogicu-,  iv. 

65.     See  also  iv.  319. 
Walpole,  Horace,  criticisms  on  the  Arcadia 

by,  ii.  307  —  correspondence  of,  iii.  347  , 

iv.281. 

Walther,  Bernard^  mathematician,  i.  198 
Walton,  Isaac,  his  Complete  Angler,  iv. 

305  — Life  of  Hooker  by,  ii.  12«i.  note. 
Walton,  Brian,  Polyglot  of,  iv.  342. 
War,  the  rights  of,  treatises  on.  by  Ayala, 

ii.  176  — by  Grotius,  iii.  179,  182,  "200- 

211  —by  G'eutilis,  ii.  178  ;  iii.  179. 
Warburton,  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  ii.  409  ; 

iii.  146 — comments  on  Shakspeare  bv, 

305  — remarks  of,  iv.  14,  19,  note,  55, 

note  >,  70,  note  —  his  Divine  Legation, 

70,  note. 
Warner,  his  Albion's  England,  i.  57,  note  ! ; 

ii.  223. 
Warton,  Dr.,  on  the  French  versions  of 

Latin  authors,  i.  98,  note  2  —  criticisms 

of,  220,  270,  815 ;  ii.  301  — on  the  Latin 

poetry  of  Milton,  iii.  270  —  on  the  effects 

of  the  Reformation,  i.  348. 
Watson,  poems  by,  ii.  221. 
Way  of  the  World,  play  of,  iv.  274. 
Wealth,  Serra  on  the  causes  of,  iii.  162 ; 

iv.  203. 
Webbe.  his  Discourse  of  English  Poetry, 

ii.  220,  227,  302  — his  travcstie  of  the 

Shepherd's  Kalendar,  ii.  227. 
Webster,  dramas  of,  iii.  332,  333. 
Weimar,  literary  academy  established  at, 

in  1617,  i.  468,  note  i ;  'iii.  239. 
Welter's  Greek  grammar,  ii.  361. 
Wenceslas,  critique  on  Hotrou's,  iii.  289. 
Werder,  German  translator  of  Ariosto  and 

Tasso,  iii.  239. 

Werner  of  Nuremburg,  geometrical  ana- 
lysis of  the  ancients  restored  by,  i.  448. 
Westley,  remark  by,  on  the  instinct  of 

animals,  iv.  328. 
Wessel  of  Grouingen,  i.  192. 
West.  Dr.    W.,   of  Dublin,  remarks  by, 

i.  193,  note,  220,  note  «. 
Westminster  School,  Greek  taught  in,  1. 

343,  note*;  ii.  49. 
Whately,  Archbishop,  Elements  of  Logic 

of,  iii.  40,  note,  69,  note,  114,  note,  127, 

note. 

Whetstone  of  Wit  by  Record,  ii.  312. 
Whetstone,   plays  by,  ii.   263  ;    iii.  290, 

296. 
Whewell,  Mr.,  remarks  of,  ii.  115,  note  » 

—  on  the  Inductive  Sciences,  iii.  40,  noti 

—  on  Gilbert,  the  mathematician,   il 
824,  note  ». 

Whichcot,  tenets  of,  iv.  41,  42. 

Whis ton,  geological  opinions  of,  iv  387 


INDEX. 


405 


WHITAKER. 

Whitaker,  ii.  91  — his  Greek  and  Latin 

Liturgy,  49  —  translation  of  Xowell's 
Catechism,  ib. 

White,  Thomas,  or  Albius,  metaphysician, 
IT.  64. 

White  Devil,  play  of,  iii.  333. 

Whitgift,  reply  of,  to  Cartwright,  ii.  55 — 
the  Lambeth  Articles  by,  412. 

Whittingham.  Bible  of,  ii.  104. 

Wicliffe,  John,  i.  185. 

Wicquefort's  Ambassador,  iv.  210. 

Widmanstadt:s  New  Testament  in  Syriac, 
ii.  337. 

Wierus.  De  Preestigiis,  ii.  101,  102. 

Wilkins  on  the  Principles  of  Natural  Reli- 
gion, iv.  42 —  on  a  Philosophical  Lan- 
guage. 122  —  on  a  Plurality  of  Worlds, 
280  —  his  Discovery  of  a  New  World  in 
the  Moon,  305.  See  iv.  319. 

Wilier  of  Augsburg,  the  first  publisher 
of  catalogues  of  new  books,  ii.  352, 
note. 

William  of  Champeaux,  his  school  of  logic 
at  Paris,  i.  37. 

William,  Duke  of  Guienne,  Troubadour, 
i.  53. 

William  III.,  reign  of,  iv.  201.  205,  238. 

Williams,  Dr.,  library  of,  ii.  175. 

Willis,  Dr.,  his  Anatomy  of  the  Brain,  iv. 
339  — theory  of,  341. 

Willoughby's  natural  history,  ii.  328;  iv. 
326. 

Wills,  alienation  of  property  by,  iii.  188. 

Wilson's  Art  of  Logic,  i.  437  :  ii.  301-  -his 
Art  of  Rhetoric,  ii.  286,  301. 

Wimpfeling,  reputation  of,  i.  193,  355, 
468. 

Winchester  School,  ii.  50  and  note  *. 

Winterton,  Poetae  Minorca  of,  ii.  364. 

Wit  and  fancy,  Hobbes  on,  iii.  122. 

Witchcraft,  books  on,  ii.  51,  55,  102;  iv. 
62. 

Wither.  George,  poems  of,  iii.  259. 

Wittenberg  University,  i.293,  300;  ii.  81. 

Wittich,  works  of,  iv.  79. 

Witton  School,  statutes  of.  ii.  50. 

Wolfs  Demosthenes,  ii.  21,  34,  note  >. 

Wolfe,  Reginald,  printer,  i.  347. 

Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  i.  59. 

Wolsey,  Cardinal,  i.  343. 

Woman  Hater,  play  of,  iii.  310  and  note. 

Woman  killed  with  Kindness,  play  of,  ii. 
269  ;  iii.  332. 

Woman,  the  Silent,  play  of,  iii.  308. 

Women  beware  Women,  play  of.  iii.  334. 

Women,  Fenelon  on  the  education  of,  iv. 
181  —  gallantry  towards,  its  effects,  i. 
144. 

Wood,  Anthony,  his  enumeration  of  great 
scholars  whose  names  render  Oxford 
illustrious,  i.  39,  note  *,  342  — his  ac- 
count of  Oxford,  346,  347,  note*;  ii. 
47,  note. 

Woodward  OD  the  nutrition  of  plants,  iv 
834  —  on  geology,  337. 


ZODIACTT8  VIT^B. 

Worde.   Wynkyn  de,  books  printed  by, 

i.  277,  note  i,  314. 

Wordsworth,  sonnets  of,  iii.  257,  note  '. 
World,  physical  theory  of  the,  ii.   109, 

111. 

World,  Raleigh's  History  of  the,  iii.  357. 
Wot  ton  on  Ancient  and  Modern  Learning, 

iv.  17.  307. 

Wren.  Sir  Christopher,  iv.  320.  339. 
Wright,  Edward,  mathematician,  ii.  319, 

324  —  on  navigation.  344. 
Wright,  Mr.,  on  the  writings  of  Alcuin,  i. 

29,  note  —  the  authenticity  of  the  His 

tory  of  Croyland  by  Ingulfus  questioned 

by,  39,  note  2  —  on  the  story  of  Arthur 

57,  note  —  the  Biographia  Britannic* 

Literaria,  90,  note. 
Wursticius,  or  Urstichius,  ii.  318. 
Wurtzburg,  converts  in,  ii.  74. 
Wyatt.  Sir  Thomas,  poems  of,  i.  421-427 ; 

"ii.  215  —  his  Epistle  to  John  Poins,  i 

422,  note  i. 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  works  of,  i.  421. 
Wycherley,  plays  of,  iv.  272. 
Wykeham,  William  of,  founds  a  college  and 

school,  i.  178. 
Wytenbogart,   controversy  of,  with  Gro- 

tius.  ii.  397,  note  —  remarkable  letter  to, 

from  Erasmus,  400. 

Xavier,  the  Jesuit  missionary,  i.  370. 
Xenophon,  editions  and  versions  of,  ii 

21. 
Ximenes,  Cardinal,  i.  278,  469;  ii.  348  — 

prints  the  Greek  Testament,  i.  292. 
Xylander,  version  of  Plutarch  by,  ii.  21, 

134. 

York,  school  of,  i.  29. 
Yorkshire  Tragedy,  play  of,  ii.  269. 
Young,  Dr..  the  Zanga  of,  iv.  268. 
Ypres,  Jansenius,  Bishop  of,  iv.  34. 

Zaccarias,  a  Florentine  monk,  translation 

of  the  Scriptures  by,  i.  381. 
Zachary  (Pope),  releases  the  Franks  from 

allegiance  to  Childeric,  ii.  96. 
Zainer,  a  printer  at  Cracow,  i.  172. 
Zamberti,  translator  of  Euclid,  i.  448. 
Zamoscius,  De  Senatu  Romano,  ii.  59. 
Zanchius,  theologian,  ii.  99. 
Zappi,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Society 

of  Arcadians,  iv.  215. 
Zarpt,  printer  at  Milan,  i.  181,  231. 
Zasius.  Ulric,  professor  at  Friburg.  i.  291, 

note,  409. 

Zell.  Ulric,  printer  at  Cologne,  i.  172. 
Zeni,  the  brothers,  voyage  of,  in  1400,  ii. 

341. 
Zeno,  Apostolo,  i.  195,  236,  249,  note;  ifl. 

ft 

Zerbi,  work  on  anatomy  by,  i.  270. 
Zerbino  of  Ariosto,  ii.  297. 
Zodiacus  Vitas,  moral  poem  by  ManzolU, 

i.  866 ;  ii.  243 


406 


INDEX. 


ZOOLOGY. 

Zoology,  writers  on,  i.  461 ;  ii.  325-329  ; 
iii.  411 ;  iv.  325  et  seq. 

Zoroaster,  i.  213  — religion  of,  iv.  343. 

Zouch's  Elementa  Juris  Civilis,  iii.  177. 

Zurich,  the  reformed  religion  taught  by 
Zwingle  at,  i.  301  —  Anabaptists  con- 
demned at,  and  drowned  in  the  Lake  of, 
ii.  87  —  Gesner's  botanical  garden  at, 
831  —  dispute  between  the  reformers 
of,  and  the  Lutherans,  i.  363. 


ZWOLL. 

Zwingle,  or  Zuinglius,  the  Swiss  reformer, 
i.  301  —  compared  with  Luther,  ib. 
note  2,  354  —  his  variance  with  Kras- 
mus,  354,  note  >  —  character  of  his  writ- 
ings, 374  —  published  in  a  fictitious 
name,  365— his  death,  863— foretold 
by  Luther,  ii.  35  —  charge  of  religioa 
intolerance  against,  86. 

Zwoll,  College  of,  i.  192. 


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