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ALLEN  COUNTY  PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


3  1833  01735  9990 


GENEALOGY 
929.102 
M56MMB 
1856 


M  E  T  II  0  D  I  S  T    . 


QUARTERLY    PiEYIE¥. 


18  5  6. 

VOLOIE  XXXYIIL-FOURTII  SERIES,  VOLUME  YIIL 


\  \     .    . 

J.   M'CLIXTOCK,   EDITOE.       -      ^'^ 


PUBLISHED    BY   CAELTO:>sr    cl-    POKTEE, 

200     MULDEURY-STREET, 
ISoG. 


'^'^--i^, 

^^J 


CONTENTS  OE  VOLUME  XXXVIIL-1856. 


JAKUAET   X  UMBER. 

Arnci.B  PASB 

I.  THE  TRACT  MOVEMENT 9 

By  the  Kev.  J.  T.  Crane,  Pennington,  N.  J. 

1.  The  Jubilee  ^lemorial  of  the  Religious  Tract  Society. 

2.  Thirtieth  Annual  Report  of  the  American  Bi*ptist  PublicVcicn 
Society. 

3.  Twenty-Xiuth  Annual  Report  of  the  American  Tract  Society. 

4.  Twcuty-F.ighth  Annual  Report  of  the  General  Protestant  f^pisco- 
pal  SnnJay-School  Union,  and  Church  Book  Society. 

5.  Sixteenth  Annual  Report  of  the  Board  of  Publication  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church. 

6.  Second  Annual  Report  of  the  Tract  Society  of  the  Methodist 
F.piscopal  Church. 

7.  Fir.t  AniiUal  Report  of  the  Board  of  Publication  of  the  Reformed 
Protestant  Dutch  Church. 

II.  MEMOIRS  OF  DUPIX 33 

1.  Memoires  de  M.  Dupin.    Tome  ler  et  2eme. 

2.  Souvenirs  du  Barreau.    Par  M.  Dupin,  avocat,  ancieu  batonnier. 

m.  THE  EASTERN  WAR 61 

By  the  Rev.  J.  II.  Perry,  D.  ]),  Brooklyn. 

1.  A  Visit  to  the  Camp  before  Sevastopol.  By  Richard  C.  M'Cor- 
MicK,  .Tr. 

2.  The  Unholy  Alliance  :  An  American  View  of  the  War  in  the  East. 
By  William  Gilks  Dix.     "  Christo  et  Cruci." 

?>.  A  History  of  the  War  between  Turkey  and  Russia,  and  Russia  and 
the  Allied  Powers  of  England  and  France.    By  Geoege  Fowlek. 

IV.  REMAINS  OF  LATIN  TRAGEDY  . 76 

Tragicorum  Latinorum  Reliquise.    Recensuit  Otto  Ribbeck. 

V.  ROBERT  NEWTON 107 

By  the  F.ev.  W.  C.  Iloyt,  New-IIiiveD,  Conn. 

The  Life  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Newton,  D.  D.    By  Thomas  Jacksox. 

-VL  SCHAFF  ON  AMERICA 122 

By  the  Rev.  Profes-sor  Nadal,  Indiana  .\sbnry  University. 

The  Political,  Soci.al,  and  Ecclesiastico-Religious  Condition  of  the 
United  States  of  North  America,  with  special  reference  to  the  Ger- 
mans. By  Pniiir  ScirAKK,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Theology  at  Mercers- 
burg,  Pennsylvania. 

VII.  LETTERS  ON  RECENT  FRENCH  LITERATURE 145 

LETTER  VL 

VIU.  SHORT  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS 152 


1.  Roenicr's  Pnlvjlott  Readers,  p.  1.52.— 2.  I'.eecher's  Letters  ou  Health 
and  Hapj.iness,  p."ir)i'._3.  Funeral  Sermon  of  Ur.  S.  H.  Cone,  r..  l.")i'.— 
i.  Abbott's  Learning  to  Talk,  p.  lo'-]. — 5.  Fo.v.e's  Book  of  Martyrs, 


4  CONTENTS. 

AETICIB  PAGK 

p.  153. — 6.  Wilson's  ^lexico  and  lior  Religion,  p.  153. — 7.  Scenes  in 
the  Practice  of  a  New-York  Surgeon,  p.  153. — ^?.  M'Cnsh's  Method  of 
the  JVivine  Government,  p.  153. — 9.  Andrews's  Sure  Anchor,  p.  151. — 
10.  Butler's  Ethioal  Discourses,  p.  15-1.— 11.  Tales  from  English  His- 
tory, p.  151. — 1:.'.  Southern  Cross  and  Southern  Crown,  p.  15-i. — 
13.  Goodrich's  lUUle  Gengr:i;ihy,  p.  155. — 11.  Journals  of  the  General 
Conferences,  p.  155. — 15."  Mrs.  Cnild's  Progress  of  Relicrious  Ideas, 
p.  15.5.-1(5.  Pious  Dead  of  the  :Medical  Profession,  p.  15G.— IT.  Tlie  Iro- 
quois, p.  15G. — IS.  Panama  in  1>^.J5,  p.  15G. — 19.  Evenings  with  the 
Romanists,  ]).  150.— 2iJ.  Memoir  of  S.  S.  Prentiss,  p.  157. — 21.  Akers's 
Introduction  to  lliblical  Chronoloc^y,  p.  157. — 22.  Young's  Christ  of 
History,  p.  15S. — -3.  Hayne's  Christian  Life,  p.  15S. — 2i.  Drummond 
on  the  Parahles,  p.,  'i'j^. — ■_'5.  Waikna,  ]).  159. — 2G.  Spring's  Contrast, 
p.  159. — 27.  Xeliie  of  Truro,  p.  150. — 2'.  Cihle  Li^ht  from  Dilile  Lands, 
p.  159.— 29.  Haokett's  Illustrations  of  Scri;)ture,  p.  lliO.— m  Butler  and 
Sturgus's  Sallust,  p.  l('rl.— 31.  Bohu's  Libraries,  p.  101. — 32.  Sunday- 
School  Union  Puhlications,  p.  1G2.— 33.  String  of  Pearls,  p.  162.— 
34.  Harper's  Classical  Library,  p.  1G2. — 35.  Champlin's  Demosthenes, 
p.  163.— 36.  Priest,  Puritan,  and  Preacher,  p.  16:3.-37.  The  Escaped 
Nun,  p.  103.-3'^.  Riish's  New  Church  Miscellanies,  p.  1G3.— 39.  Thomp- 
son's Christian  Theism,  p.  1G3. — 10.  God  in  Creation,  p.  161.— 11.  Wise  s 
Defence  of  Methodism,  p.  IGl. — 12.  Harper's  Story  Books,  p.  1G4. — 
43.  Peabodv  on  Conversation,  p.  ICL — tl.  Carlton  &  Phillips's  Quarto 
Bible,  p.  1G5.— 15.  Harry  Budd,  p.  165.- IG.  Hill-Side  Flowers,  p.  165.— 
47.  Pamphlets,  p.  1G5. 

IX.  RELIGIOUS  AND  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE 166 


L  JULIUS  CHARLES  HARE 169 

1.  Guesses  at  Truth.    By  Two  nnoTiiKr.s.    First  Scries. 

2.  Guesses  at  Truth.     ];>-  Tv.-o  Brotiikhs.     Second  Series. 

3.  Sermons  ])reaeht  in  Hnrstmonceux  Church.    By  Jrui's  Chakles 
■    Hare,  A.  M.,  Rector  of  Herstmonceus,  Archdeacon  of  Lewes,  and  late 

Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

4.  The  Victory  of  Faith,  and  otfier  Sermons.  By  JruL'S  Chaeles 
Hare,  &c. 

5.  The  ^lissiou  of  the  Comforter,  and  other  Sermons.  With  Notes. 
By  JcLits  CiiA'.'.r.is  Hap.e. 

6.  Essays  and  TaUs.  By  Jou^f  Steriixg.  Collected  and  edited, 
with  a  Jlcmoir  of  his  Life.    By  J.  C.  Hark.  ic. 

7.  The  Means  of  Unity  :  a  ("harge.  With  Notes  on  the  .Jerusalem 
Bishopric,  and  the  Need  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Synod.    By  J.C.  Hare,  &-c. 

S.  Letter  to  the  IVan  of  Chichester  on  the  Appointment  of  Dr. 
Hampden.     Second  Edition.     With  Postscrijit.     By  J.  C.  Hark,  S.c. 

9.  The  Better  Prospects  of  the  Cliurch  :  a  Charge.   By  J.  C.  Hare,  .tc. 

10.  The  Contest  with  Rome  :  a  Chiirge  deliveretl  in  1.S51,  with  Notes  ; 
'           especially  in  answer  to  Dr.  Newman's  Lectures.    By  J.  C.  Hare,  Ac. 

11.  jVrchdeacon  Hare's  L:i3t  Charge. 

12.  Two  Sermons,  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Funeral  of  .\rchdeacon 
Hare.  Bv  the  Rev.  H.  0.  Elliott,  M.  A.,  and  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Suipkix- 
sox,  M.  A. 

IL  ROM.VNISM  FALSE  AND  PERSECUTING 198 

By  the  Plcv.  Dr.  George  Peck,  Jjiii?!iauipton,  Pa. 

The  Complete  Notes  of  the  Douay  Bible  and  Rheniish  Testament. 
Extracted  from  tlio  Qunrto  Editions  "of  1>IG  and  l^IS,  published  under 
the  Patronage  of  the  Itoraan  Catholic  l'.i.-hoi,s  and  Priests  of  Ireland, 
as  the  authorized  Interpretation  of  the  Chuieli,  and  the  iniallible 
Guide  to  Everlasting  Life.  With  a  Prel.ice,  enibodyiuir  the  Facts  and 
Documents  connected  w  ith  the  Publication  of  Loth  Editions  ;  Dr.  Troy's 


CONTENTS.  5 

tllCLB  PA8B 

ami  Ih-.  ^^ltrray's  Denial  of  tlioni ;  the  List  of  the  Subscribers  throncrli- 
out  lr.'Liii<l ;  the  List  of  ctrtain  Notes  suppressed  in  some  Copies  oi  the 
i>-C'iiiJ  Hdition.  \S'ith  a  Copious  Lulex,  referring  to  all  the  Principles 
of  t!i.'  Church  of  Rome,  ■vvortiiy  of  remark  in  the  Notes,  which  appear 
utterly  subversive  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  and  of  all  Christian  Charity 
aniou^'  Men.    By  the  Rev,  Robert  J.  M'Ghue,  A.  B. 

III.  COUNT  .JO.SEPH  DE  ilALSTRE  AND  UlENCH   ULTRAMON- 

TANISM 21(5 

Q^u\Tes  completes  du  Comte  Joseph  do  Maistre. 

IV.  THE  MONUMENTS  OF  ATHENS 235 

L'Acropole  d'Athenes.  Par  E.  Beule,  ancien  Membre  de  I'Ecole 
d'Athenes. 

V,  THE  PRES'CETON  REVIEW  ON  ARMINIANISM  AND  GRACE     2.J7 

VL  ENGLISH  UNIVERSITY  LIFE  AND  UNIVERSITY  REFORM    270 

By  the  Kev.  Dr.  Schaff,  Mercersburgli,  Pjl 

281 

By  the  Eev.  S.  Wieting,  Fort  Plain,  N.  T. 

VIIL  I'RACTICAL  HINTS  FOR  STUDENTS  OF  BIBLICAL  LITER- 
ATURE  28S 

IX.  CORRESPONDENCE 29S 

I. — Recent  French  Literature. 
n. — Higher  Education  in  Germany. 

X.  SHORT  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS 310 

1.  Miss  Bunkley,  the  Escaped  Nun,  p.  310. — 2.  Wood's  Modern  Pil- 
grims, p.  310. — o.  Preacher's  M;vnual,  p.  310. — i.  Lamb's  Works,  p.  310. 
— 5.  Ltiwreiicc's  Lives  of  the  British  Historians,  p.  311. — G.  Barton's 
Grammar,  p.  311.— 7.  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  bv.I.  S.  C.  Abbott,  p.  311. 
— ^.  Fowler  on  the  En^li-h  Language,  p.  oil.— It.  The  Rollo  Books,  bv 
Jacob  Abbott,  p.  311. — 10.  Hudson's  Shakspeare,  ]\311. — 11.  Bonner's 
Child's  History  of  the  United  States,  p.  oU.—l2.  The  World's  Jubilee, 
by  Anna  Silliman,  p.  31:.*. — 13.  .\  New  Flower  for  Children,  p.  312. — 
14.  Carrol  Ashton,  p.  312. — 15.  Dale's  Thucvdides,  Buckley's  Sophocles, 
and  Cary's  Herodotus,  p.  312. — IG.  The  Wonderful  Phials,  p.  312. — 
17.  Post's  Skeptical  Era  in  ilodern  History,  p.  312. — IS.  Neal's  One 
Word  More,  p.  313.— I'J.  Thomson's  Essavs.  Educational  and  Relicious, 
p.313.— 20.  Systematic  Beneficence,  Three  Prize  Ess.iys,  p.  313.— 21.  Ec- 
clesiastical Principles  and  Polity  of  the  Wesleyau  Methodists,  p.  311. — 
22.  Miss  Farmer's  Tonca  and  the  Friendly  Islands,  p.  310. — 23.  Pres- 
cott's  History  of  Phillip  II.,  p.  31G.— 21.  Macaulay's  History  of  Eni^Iand, 
vols.  3  and  4,  p.  317.— 2.>.  Arthur's  Addresses,  p.  317. — 2G.  Unitarian 
Principles  contirmed  by  Trinitarian  Testimonies,  p.  317. — 27.  Manship's 
Kxperieuce  in  the  Itinerancy,  p.  317. — 2*.  State  of  the  Soul  between 
IVath  and  the  Resurrection,  p.  31S. — 2i).  Quesnel  on  the  Gospels,  p.  31S. 
— 3n.  Ferguson  on  Communications  from  the  Spirit  Spheres,  p.  olS. — 
31.  S([uier's  Notes  on  Central  America,  p.  31S. — 32.  Cox  on  Slavery  in 
the  ApostolicChurch,  p.  319.— 33.  Bledsoe's  Theodicy,  p.  3B).— 34.  Eadie 
on  the  Colossians,  p.  al!). — 3.5.  Schmitz's  Manual  of  Ancient  His.torv. 
],.  ?,-j(l._;JO.  Selections  from  the  British  Poets,  p.  320.— 37.  The  Attache 
in  Ma.hid,  p.  320._3S.  Davis  on  Toleration  in  the  Province  of  M.u-y- 
liind,  p.  3211. — :!!).  Moore  on  the  Prophets  of  the  Restoration,  p.  32li.— 
40.  Diiyekiiick's  Cyclopedi;!  i,f  American  Literature,  i).321.— 41.  Guth- 
rie on  the  Gospel  ifi  E/ekiel,  p.3Jt. — 12.  Plymouth Cidlection  of  Hymns 
and  Tuii's,  n.  321. — 13.  P-  r.'  on  Demons  and  Guardian  Angels,  p"  321. 
— li.  The  Christian's  (ireat  Interest,  by  Guthrie,  p. 322. — 15.  Evening 
luctuse,  p.  322. — Itj.  Pamphlets,  ic,  p.  322. 

XL  RELIGIOUS  AND  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE 323 

Theolouical  axd  Rfxigious 326 


CONTENTS. 


JULY  nti:mbee. 

AETrCLK  PAGR 

L  JULIUS  CHARLES  HARE 329 

[second  paper.] 

1.  Guesses  at  Truth.    By  Two  Bi:otiiers.    First  SL-ries. 

2.  Guesses  at  Truth.     Hv  Two  Bkotheks.     Second  Series. 

3.  Sermons  iireaeht  in  l:'[erstmouceux  Church.  By  JcLius  Chahles 
Hare,  A.  ^I.,  Rector  of  Herstmonceux,  Archdeacon  of  Lewes,  and  late 
Fellow  of  Trinity  Coliejfe,  Cambridge. 

4.  The  Victory  of  Faith,  and  other  Sermons.  By  Julius  Chaelzs 
Kare.  &c. 

5.  The  Mission  of  the  Comforter,  and  other  Sermons.  With  Xotes. 
By  Julius  Chakles  Hake. 

6.  Essays  and  Tales.  By  Joiiy  Step.lixg.  Collected  and  edited, 
•with  a  Memoir  of  his  Life.     By  J.  C.  Hake,  &e. 

7.  The  Means  of  Unity  :  a  Charge.  With  Notes  on  the  Jerusalem 
Bishopric,  and  the  Need  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Synod.    By  J.  C.  Hare,  &c. 

8.  Letter  to  the  Dean  of  Chichester  on  the  Appointment  of  Dr. 
Hampden.    Second  Edition.    'With  Postscript.    By  J.  C.  Hahe,  &c. 

9.  Tlie  Better  Prospects  of  the  Church  :  a  Charge.   By  J.  C.  Hare,  &c. 

10.  The  Contest  with  Rome  :  a  Charge  delivered  in  1851,  with  Notes; 
especially  in  answer  to  Dr.  Newman's  Lectures.     B_v  J.  C.  Hare,  &c. 

11.  Archdeacon  Hare's  Last  Charcre. 

12.  Two  Sermons,  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Funeral  of  Archdeacon 
Hare.  By  the  Rev.  H.  0.  Elliott,  M.  A.,  and  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Soipkin- 
sox,  M.  A. 

IL  THE  CHINESE  LANGUAGE  SPOKEN  AT  FUH  CHAU  ...    352 

By  Eev.  M.  C.  White,  M.  D. 

IIL  DANTE 381 

"  Dante  et  les  Origines  de  la  Litteratui-e  Italienue."  Par  M.  Foctjel. 
2  volumes. 

IV.  SYDNEY  SMITH 404 

A  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  by  his  Daughter,  L.^py  Hol- 
land ;  with  a  Selection  from  his  Letters.    Edited  by  Mi:s.  AusTLy. 

V.  EARLY    METHODISM    IN    ilARYLAND,    ESPECIALLY    IN 

BALTIMORE '.    .    431 

By  the  Eev.  W.  Hamilton,  Baltimore. 

VI.  AKERS'S  BIBLICAL  CHRONOLOGY 448 

By  James  Strong,  A.  M.,  Flashing,  Long  Islar.d. 

Introduction  to  BiMic.il  Chronology,  from  Adam  to  the  Resurrection 
of  Christ:  comprising  5373  Years  of  the  World,  synchronized  with 
Julian  Time.  With  such  Calendars,  Cycles,  Tables,  and  Explanations, 
as  to  render  the  whole  .Subject  easy  of  Coiniirehension  to  every  Bible 
Student.  By  Rev.  Peter  .\KEr.s,  D.  D.,  President  of  M'Kemlree  College. 
[The  tables  belonging  to  this  article  will  appear  in  the  October  number.] 

Vn.  ALCHEMY  AND  THE  ALCHEMISTS 46S 

L'.A.lchimie  et  les  Alchimistes ;  ou,  Essai  Historiciue  et  Critique  sur 
la  Philosophic  Hermetique.  Par  Louis  Fiouier,  Doofeur  es  Sciences 
Medicales.  Docteur  en  Medicine,  agrege  de  Chimie  a  I'EcoIe  de  Phar- 
macie  de  Paris. 

"VnL  SHORT  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS 487 

1.  Hamilton's  Emblems  from  Eden,  p.  l**". — 2.  Jarvis's  Italian  Sights 
and   Papal  Principles,  p.  4.^7. — 'i.    Captain  Hedley   Vicars,  p.  4S7. — 


CONTENTS.  1 

Kncu  ^*°* 

■I.  Ro<'cr*'s  Table  Talk,  p.  4«^7.— 5.  Strickland  on  Sanctification,  p.  4-S7.— 
6.  Fi-rrv's  ^■«,^a^oml  Life  in  Mexico,  p.  487.-7.  Raphall  on  the  Post- 
BiMical'  History  of  thi-  Jews,  p.  4>5;.— S.  Hodge  on  the  Epistle  to  the 
KphcH-ans,  p.  4SS.— !».  Cl.irk  on  Si-ht  and  Hearing,  p.  4S8. — 10.  Adven- 
tures in  Madeira.  Portu-al,  and  Spain,  p.  488.— 11.  The  Island  of  Cuba, 
p.  -Is^.—l:}.  b'isk's  Hi.-ti>ry  and  Kepo,ilory  of  Eloquence,  p.  4>9. — 
1:!.  Dobie's  Key  to  the  Bible,  p.  4S'J.— 14.  Tlie  Lady's  Guide  to  Perfect 
Gentilitv,  p.  489. — 15.  Loomis's  Treatise  on  Arithmetic,  p.  489. — 
ir,.  Clark's  Select  Lectures,  p.  489.— 17.  Stricklimil's  Pioneers  of  the 
West,  p.  490. — 18.  Olmsted's  Journey  in  the  Seaboard  Slave  States, 
p.  4fio.— 19.  Life  of  Sehamyl.  p.  49!a— ii:>.  Cheever  on  tbc  Life,  Geuins, 
and  Insanity  of  Cowper,  p.49i). — 21.  Memoir  of  Bishop  Heber,  p.  491. — 
22.  Life  in  IJrazil,  bv  Ewbank,  p.  491.— .3.  Typical  Eorms  and  Special 
Ends  in  Creation,  bv  :»rCosh  and  Dickie,  p.  401.— i!!:.  Cycloprodia  of 
Bio-raphv,  bv  Hawks,  p.  491.— 25.  The  Plymouth  Collection  of  Hymns, 
p.  492.— I'l).  The  Teacher,  by  Jacob  Abbott,  p.  492.-27.  Wise's  Con- 
vert's Counsellor,  p.  492.— 2S.  TheTvoman  Exile,  by  Gucrlielmo  Gajani, 
p.  492.-29.  Orations  of  Cicero  and  the  Trasredies  of  .Eschylus,  p.  492.— 
30.  Horseford's  Voice  from  the  West  Indies,  p.  493.-31.  Phvsiolocry 
and  Calisthenics,  by  Miss  C.  E.  Beecher.  p.  493.-32.  Elakeley  en  the 
Theology  of  Inventions,  p.  493.-33.  Derby's  Letter  to  a  Younc;  Kins- 
man proposing  to  join  the  Church  of  Rome,  p.  493. — 34.  Relatives  of 
Leila  Ada,  p. "493.— 3.5.  Recoirnition  in  Heaven,  by  Rosser,  p.  493. — 
36.  Hints  on  Missions  to  India,  by  IMiron  Winsloiv-.  p.  493. — 37.  The 
Suffering  Saviour,  by  Krummacher,  p.  494.— 3S.  Hardin?  on  the  Book 
of  Jonah,  p.  494. — 09.  The  Three  Gardens :  Eden,  Getlisemane,  and 
P;\radise,  by  Adams,  p.  494.-40.  Hdv'S  on  the  Spanish  Conquest  in 
America,  p.'494.— 11.  .\lison's  History  of  Europe,  p.  49.3. — 12.  Motley's 
Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,  p.  493".— 43.  Gieseler's  History  of  Doc- 
»rines,  p.  49."..- 4t-.  Le.arning  to  Think,  by  Jacob  Abbott,  p.  496. — 
4.5.  Wheeler's  Life  and  Travels  of  Herodotus,  p.  49G.— 46.  The  Hugue- 
not Exiles,  p.  49G. — 47.  The  Enrrineer ;  or,  how  to  Travel  in  the  Woods, 
by  Jacob  Abbott,  p.  496.— 48.  Missions  needed  to  the  Higher  Blessed- 
ness of  the  Church,  by  Williams,  p.  4'j').— 49.  The  Victory  Won,  p.  496. 
—50.  Sampson  on  the"Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  p.  497.— ol.  The  Central 
Idea  of  Christianity,  by  J.  T.  Peck,  p.  497. 

IX.  RELIGIOUS  AND  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE 497 

Theological  .v>"d  Religious 497 


OCTOBER    ^^UMBEE. 

L  ELAKEY'S  HISTORY  OF  LOGIC 505 

Historical  Sketch  of  Logic,  from  the  earliest  Times  to  the  present 
'    Pay.    Bv  RoBF.KT  Blakey,  Professor  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics,  Queen's 
Col'leee,' Belfast ;  Author  of  "The  History  of  the  Philosophy  of  the 
Mind,"  &c.,  ic.    1  vol.,  8vo. 

n.  IRVING'S  WORKS 537 

By  the  Eev.  E.  AUyn,  Providence,  E.  I. 
The  Works  of  Washington  Irving.     16  vols.,  12mo. 

IIL  BAYXE'S  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 549 

By  the  Ecv.  J.  A.  Macauley,  BaUitnore  Conference. 

The  Christian  Life,  Social  .and  IndividuaL    By  Peteu  B-itne,  M.  A. 
12mo.,  pp.  .328. 


8  CONTENTS. 

ASnClZ  PACE 

IV.  ABBOTT'S  NAPOLEON 668 

By  8.  G.  Arnold,  Esq.,  Toledo,  Ohio. 

The  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  By  Joks  S.  C.  Abbott.  With 
maps  and  illustrations.    2  toIs.,  bvo. 

V.  THE   NEW  TESTAMENT  VIEW  OF  TQE  RESTORATION  OF 

THE  JEWS 577 

By  the  Rev.  A.  M.  Osbon,  D.  D.,  New-York. 

VI  TABLE  OF  BIBLICAL  CHRONOLOGY 600 

By  James  Strong,  S.  T.  D.,  Flushing,  Long  Island. 

Vn  SHORT  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS 641 

1.  Strickland's  History  of  the  Bible  Society,  p.  611.— 2.  Eaird's  Re- 
ligion in  America,  p.  GIL— 3.  Kempis's  Imitation  of  Christ,  p.  6-12.- 
4.  Winslow's  Moral  Philosophy,  p.  642. — 5.  Gaddis's  Sacred  Hour, 
p.  644.— 6.  The  Old  Chest  and  its  Treasures,  p.  644.-7.  Henry  Lyman, 
the  Martyr  of  Sumatra,  p.  644. — S.  Beckwourth's  Life  and  Adventures, 
p.  644.— 9.  Marsh  on  the  Camel,  p.  045.- 10.  Loomis's  Recent  Protrress 

of   Astronomy,   p.   645. — 11.    Van    Santfoord's    Discourses,   p.    646. 

12.  Six  3[onths  in  Kansas,  p.  G40.— 13.  Western  Border  Life,  p.  CiO. — 
14.  Captive  Youths  of  Judah,  p.  iMG.—V).  Wakeley's  Heroes  of  .Meth- 
odism, p.  647.-10.  Hott inker's  Life  and  Times  of  Z«  ingle,  p.  G47.— 
17.  Ryland's  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Kitto,  p.  G47. — IS.  Wesleyaii  Methodism 
in  the  Con-leton  Circuit,  p.  64'^. — I'J.  Autobioc^raphy  of  a  Blind  Min- 
ister,   p.   64-^. — 20.    Pitman's    Phonographic   Publications,    p.    648. 

21.  Seyfl'arth's  Lectures  on  Egyptian  Antiquities,  p.  619. — 22.  Jacobus's 
Notes  on  John,  p.  651. 

Vm.  EDITORIAL  PARLEY 652 


THE 

METHODIST  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 

JANUARY,    1S5G. 


Art.  I.— the   TRACT   MOVEMENT. 

1.  The  Jubilee  Memorial  of  the  Religious  Tract  Society.     London.    Pp.  704. 

2.  Thirtieth  Jlr.nual  Report  of  the   ^imerican  Baptist  Publication  Society.     Phila- 
delplua,  lSo4. 

3.  Tffnf:j-j\'inth  Annual  Report  of  the  ^meyiran  Tract  Society.     New-York,  1S54. 

4.  Tu-cn/y-Eighik  Annual  Report   of  the   General  Protestant   Episcopal    Sunday- 
School  Union,  and  Church  Book  Society.     New- York,  1S54. 

G,   Sijctf/nth  Annual  Report  of  the  Board  of  Publication  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
rinladclphia.  IS.Jl. 

6.  S-stor.d  Annual  Report  of  the  Tract  Society  cf  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
Aow-Ycrk,  lS,-.5. 

7.  First  Annual  Report  of  the  Board  of  Publication  of  the  Reformed  Protestant 
Dutch  Church.    New-York,  1355. 

The  Tract  enterprises  of  the  Christian  Church  are  worthy  to  be 
classed  among  the  greatest  undertakings  of  the  age.  The  theme 
involves  so  much  that  to  do  it  justice  in  one  short  article  is  impos- 
sible. This  paper,  therefore,  is  merel}'-  designed  to  draw  an  outline 
of  the  subject,  and  throw  in  a  tint  here  and  there,  leaving  the  reader 
to  complete  the  picture  for  himself. 

We  do  not  dispute  the  fact  that  the  command  to  "preach  the 
Gosjicl"  means,  primarily,  that  the  messengers  of  Christ,  who  are 
called  of  God  as  was  Aaron,  are  to  proclaim  their  message  with  the 
voice.  They  are  styled  heralds,  and  there  is  propriety  as  well  as 
beauty  iu  the  epithet.  The  student  well  remembers  Homer's  living 
epistk'S,  who  repeat  the  classic  Avords  of  their  various  masters  with- 
out tlio  omission  of  a  letter,  or  the  slightest  violation  of  rhythm.  In 
proclaiming  the  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  God's  chief  instrumental- 
ity is  the  voice  of  the  living  teacher,  into  whose  mouth  he  puts  words, 
commanding  him  to  speak  in  his  name.  The  speaker,  standing  up 
before  his  auilicnce,  face  to  face,  eye  to  eye  with  them,  will  attract 
and  retain  their  attention  from  the  first  to  the  last  word  of  an 

FouETn  Series,  Vol.  YIII.— 1 


10  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

address,  -which,  if  printed,  would  not  be  read  through  with  the  same 
interest  and  attention  by  one  in  twenty  of  those  auditors.  The 
living  teacher  is,  also  in  general,  more  impressive,  as  well  as  attract- 
ive. People  love  to  feel  emotions,  and  arc  prone  to  attribute  truth, 
wisdom  and  all  good  qualities  to  those  who  are  able  to  excite  them 
in  an  agreeable  manner.  To  most  hearers,  learaed  and  unlearned, 
the  speech  which  conveys  the  truth,  and,  while  it  keeps  up  the  men- 
tal action  aright,  spices  it  with  pathos  or  humour — a  sermon  which 
causes  the  heart  to  throb  tumultuously,  and  the  eye  to  sufi'use — are 
far  preferable  to  dry,  passionless  disquisitions,  like  a  winter's  night, 
clear  and  cold.  But  emotion  is  contagious.  To  weep  with  those 
who  weep,  and  rejoice  with  them  that  rejoice,  is  graven  upon  our 
nature,  as  v.-ell  as  written  in  God's  book.  And  the  living  teacher, 
whose  heart  glows  with  zeal  for  the  cause  of  his  ^Master,  and  whoso 
eye,  and  voice,  and  attitude,  and  gesture  all  speak  to  his  auditors, 
and  impress,  and  thrill,  and  move  them,  holds  the  principal  place  in 
proclaiming  the  truth  and  saving  the  lost.  i!So  books,  no  tracts,  no 
steam-press,  striking  off  a  volume  at  every  swing  of  the  pendulum, 
can  supersede  him.  He  must  go.  He  must  stand  before  those  to 
whom  he  is  sent,  and  there,  while  their  lost  condition  rouses  his 
Christian  sympathies,  and  v.-hile  his  tenderness  and  zeal  attract  and 
impress  them,  he  must  preach — announce  with  a  brother's  voice  the 
riches  of  Christ,  and  at  the  same  time  do  what  no  volume  or  tract 
can  ever  do,  show  an  example  of  a  living,  breathing  Christian, 
redeemed  from  sin,  and  full  of  love  for  God  and  for  souls. 

JSo  Church  can  prosper  without  the  living  teacher.  The  people 
called  Quakers  laid  aside  the  ministry,  as  a  class  of  men  set  apart 
to  preach  the  Gospel  and  superintend  the  affairs  of  the  Church,  and 
yet  the  society  has  never  prospered,  never  won  upon  other  sects,  nor 
made  aggressions  upon  the  world,  except  through  the  instrumental- 
ity of  men  v,-ho  gave  themselves  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and 
who -were  earnest  and  abundant  in  labours.  While  their  great 
leaders  lived  and  constituted,  in  fact,  v-,-hat  they  denounced  in  name, 
a  regular  ministry,  the  society  grew  rapidly ;  but  when  these  able 
preachers,  who  had  roused  the  community  irom  its  apathy  by  their 
faithful  "testimonies"  and  strong  appeals,  were  gathered  to  their 
fathers,  the  triumphs  of  Quakerism  were  at  an  end.  Two  or  three 
times  the  denomination  has  revived  under  the  influence  of  preaching, 
but  when  these  labours  again  ceased,  the  society  ceased  to  grow, 
and  in  most  cases,  began  to  wane. 

The  founders  of  Christian  communions  have  been  generally, 
perhaps  we  may  say  invariably,  great  preachers.  John  Huss, 
Martin  Luther,  the  Weslcys,  and  George  Whitcfield,  were  giants 


1656.3  The  Tract  Movement.  \\ 

in  their  day ;  ^vhile  the  Ilicksitcs,  the  Campbellites,  and  the  Pusey- 
ito  movement,  and  various  other  subdivisions  of  the  professed 
folioNYcrs  of  Christ,  may  also  bo  cited  in  proof  of  our  position. 
Even  the  f-ilse  religions  of  the  earth  ovre  their  progress  and  power 
to  th('  hibours  of  the  living  advocate.  The  Mormons,  for  instance, 
ehow  what  can  be  done  by  indefatigable  preaching,  for  even  a  very 
hvkA  cause. 

]{nt  the  power  of  the  modern  press  is  also  immense.  It  e.xerts  an 
untold  influence  upon  the  welfare  of  the  race,  and  is,  at  the  same  time, 
one  of  the  best  and  one  of  the  most  dangerous  elements  of  modem 
progress.  Conceding  to  the  preacher  the  place  of  the  tongue,  the 
Church  wields  in  the  steam-press  the  right  hand  of  her  power.  As 
wc  propose  to  examine  the  subject  at  some  length,  let  us  begin  with 
a  glance  at  the  literal  machinery.  Down  under  ground,  in  a  hot  and 
smoky  atmosphere,  a  begrimmed  personage  in  a  soiled  paper  cap 
opens  the  ponderous  doors  of  a  furnace,  and  we  gaze  into  a  cavern 
of  fire,  raging  vrithin  iron  halls.  Around  and  above  are  wheels  and 
cylinders  and  arms  of  steel,  all  moving  with  resistless  energy  and 
heavy  clangours.  ^Ve  ascend  to  another  story,  and  there  we  behold 
a  number  of  complicated  machines,  devouring  monsters,  gorging 
themselves  with  whole  loads  of  paper  aliment.  The  keeper  of  each 
lays  before  it,  every  instant,  a  huge,  spotless  sheet.  Instantly  a 
half  a  dozen  pairs  of  iron  thumbs  and  fingers  shut  upon  the  edge 
and  draw  it  into  the  mysterious  vortex  of  wheels.  For  a  moment  it 
is  gone  from  sight,  and  then  emerges  again  on  the  other  side,  where 
an  iron  hand  receives  it  in  its  skeleton  palm,  and  with  a  whirl  claps 
it  heavily  upon  a  pile  of  its  predecessors.  Lo,  the  whole  Gospel  of 
grace  is  printed  upon  its  surfaces!  Thus  the  work  goes  on.  The 
sweating  toiler  below  fills  up  the  red  cavern  under  the  boiler,  and  the 
hot  spirit  pent  up  within,  like  an  infuriate  criminal  on  the  tread- 
mdl,  chafes  at  his  bonds  and  tears  at  the  machinery  with  fiery 
energy.  The  tireless  wheels  revolve,  and  a  score  of  iron  hands 
swing  to  and  fro,  each  every  moment  laying  down,  as  an  offering 
upon  the  altar  of  God,  a  volume  which  the  slow  pen  of  the  scribe  of 
other  d;iys  would  have  required  months  to  copy.  The  heathen  ask 
for  Bibles  and  the  iron  hand  piles  them  up.  A  Christian  com- 
mumty  requires  tracts,  religious  newspapers  and  Sabbath- school 
books,  and  the  iron  fingers  hold  them  forth.  The  fires  burn,  the 
stoam  laoours,  the  wheels  revolve,  and  light  streams  through  the 
earth.  ° 

And  in  truth,  the  printed  page  has  some  advantages  which  the 
preacher  lacks.  The  very  force  of  appeal  connected  with  personal 
advocacy  soraetimes  renders  it  exasperating  to  irritable  natures. 


12  The  Trad  Movement.  [January, 

When  man  reproves  his  neighbour,  no  matter  how  cautiously  and 
kindly,  there  is  an  assumed  superiority  implied  Avhich  the  combative 
heart  of  the  transgressor  is  apt  to  construe  as  Pharisaic  pride, 
"  Stand  by,  I  am  holier  than  thou."  The  printed  page,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  passive  and  passionless,  and  its  admonitions  are  more  like 
the  deductions  of  one's  own  reason,  or  the  calm  dictates  of  con- 
science, against  which  the  anger  of  the  sinner  is  less  likely  to  rise 
than  against  a  reprover  clad  in  flesh  and  blood,  and  saying,  Avith 
lifted,  upbraiding  finger,  "  Thou  art  the  man."  i)\or  can  the  force 
of  the  page's  appeal  be  broken  by  controversy,  cunningly  started  up 
by  way  of  diverting  the  conversation  from  personal  matters.  The 
types  are  never  penned  in  a  corner  and  silenced  by  sophistry;  they 
tender  no  apology  for  what  they  say ;  but  asserting  without  wavering 
or  abatement,  they  compel  the  reader  to  meet  the  naked  question. 
If  the  recipient  of  the  tract  burn  it  in  his  foolish  wrath,  not  a  letter 
deserts  its  post,  but  so  long  as  the  fabric  holds  together,  it  adheres 
to  its  original  declarations,  and  the  martyr,  like  those  of  old,  perishes 
in  the  flames,  firm  and  undaunted  to  the  very  last. 

The  tract  or  religious  book,  too,  is  alwaj's  at  hand,  and  thus  can 
have  a  hearing  in  the  viollia  tempora  fandi,  the  times  when  the 
whole  man  is  soothed  and  softened,  and  the  mind  is  reflective  and 
the  heart  impressible.  The  page  may  be  read  again  and  again, 
while  the  eloquence  of  the  living  teacher  is  often  lost  with  the  breath 
which  gave  it  utterance.  The  volume  may  remain  in  prison  day 
and  night  among  criminals,  without  pain  to  itself,  or  offence  to  others; 
it  can  maintain  its  position  in  the  hands  of  vice,  holding  up  its  torch 
amid  the  thick  darkness.  It  can  go  where  the  living  teacher  cannot 
follow,  remain  where  he  cannot  stay,  work  when  he  is  weary,  and 
live  long  and  toil  hard  when  he  is  worn  out  and  gone  to  his  final 
rest. 

The  living  teacher,  then,  is  God's  chosen  messenger  to  guilty  men, 
and  yet  the  mute  sennons  of  the  religious  press  have  some  peculiar 
powers  and  advantages.  The  duty,  therefore,  of  an  enlightened 
Christian  Church  is  to  employ  both  agencies  to  the  utmost  limit  of 
opportunity.  Let  the  teacher  go  forth  everywhere,  and  tell  the 
story  of  the  cross ;  let  him  lift  up  his  voice  in  the  lofty  temples  of 
the  city,  and  in  the  humbler  chapel  of  the  hamlet,  or  beside  the 
highways  and  the  hedges,  beneath  the  open  sky.  But  while  his 
words  of  invitation  ring  far  and  wide,  let  our  friend  in  the  paper  cap 
open  the  doors  of  the  iron  cavern,  and  feed  fat  the  hot  spirit  that 
pushes  and  tugs  within ;  let  books  and  tracts  fly  like  the  leaves  of 
the  forest  when  autumn  winds  are  blowing;  till,  as  in  the  quaint 
fancy  of  John  Bunyan,  both  Eye-gate  and  Ear-gate  have  been 


J 856.]  The  Tract  Movement.  J3 

assaulted  by  the  truth,  and  every  citizen  of  Man-soul  has  bowed  to 
the  mild  sway  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

The  Christian  Church  is  wakinj:;  to  her  duty.  Since  the  days  of 
the  apostles,  the  world  never  saw  greater  activity  and  energy  in 
gprottding  the  Gospel,  more  men  employed,  more  money  contrib- 
utod,  or  greater  success  crowning  effort ;  and  of  all  the  labours  of 
the  Church,  none  has  sprung  up  more  rapidly  from  small  beginnings 
to  3  mngnitude  partaking  of  the  sublime,  than  the  religious  publica- 
tion cntorjjrisc.  In  fact,  enlightened  minds  in  all  ages  have  felt 
that  in  value  and  efficacy  books  are  next  to  the  living  teacher.  The 
co{)y  of  the  law,  laid  up  in  the  ark,  w-as  regarded  by  the  Israelites 
with  a  veneration  approaching  idolatry;  and  in  after  ages  the  Jews 
looked  upon  their  sacred  manuscripts  as  the  choicest  treasures  of 
their  synagogues.  Solomon  sought  to  find  out  and  put  on  record 
acceptable  words,  even  words  of  truth.  Paul  possessed  manuscripts 
"which  he  highly  valued,  and  in  reminding  Timothy  how  he  may  be 
"a  good  minister  of  Jesus  Christ,"  he  urges  him  to  "give  attend- 
ance to  reading."  "Wickliffe  penned  a  hundred  or  more  of  manu- 
script volumes  against  the  errors  of  Rome,  and  sent  them  forth  on 
their  mission  of  light ;  and  one  or  two  of  these,  borrowed  of  a  Bohe- 
mian noble,  who  had  been  a  student  at  Oxford,  turned  John  Huss 
to  the  truth,  and  kindled  another  morning  star  of  the  lleformation. 
Luther  arose  soon  after  the  invention  of  printing,  and  his  strong 
practical  mind  was  not  slow  to  seize  upon  the  press  as  a  mighty 
helper  in  his  vast  W"ork.  So  greatly  were  the  adherents  of  Rome 
annoyed  by  these  sharp  -aiTOws,  that  one  of  them  cries  out  in 
anguisii  and  dismay : — "  The  Gospellers  of  these  days  do  fill  the 
realm  Avith  so  many  of  their  noisome  little  books,  that  they  be  like 
to  the  swarms  of  locusts  which  did  infest  the  land  of  Egypt." 

Though  here  and  there  appear  traces  of  combined  effort  for  the 
publication  of  various  books  promotive  of  piety,  nothing  lilce  a  per- 
manent organization  is  seen  till  1701,  when  the  "  Society  for  Pro- 
moting Christian  Knowledge,"  was  founded  in  London.  The  means 
proposed  by  this  society  Avere  the  establishment  of  schools  to  teach 
all  to  read,  and  the  distribution  of  Bibles,  tracts  and  good  books. 
Some  other  local  associations,  composed,  like  this,  wholly  of  mem- 
bers of  the  Established  Church,  were  formed,  and  doubtless  accom- 
plished good.  In  the  year  1750,  however,  a  society  was  formed  in 
London,  on  a  more  catholic  plan,  for  the  "  Promotion  of  Religious 
Knowledge  among  the  Poor."  In  175G  societies  of  the  same  char- 
acter were  established  in  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow.  Toward  the  close 
of  the  century,  Miss  Hannah  ]More  began  her  labours  in  this  new 
field,  by  writing,  with  the  aid  of  her  sisters,  a  series  of  "  Cheap 


14  The  Tract  Movernent.  [January, 

Repository  Tracts."  Those  who  have  seen  the  stories  of  "  Giles 
the  Poacher,"  and  "Widow  Brown's  Apple  Tree,"  will  wonder  how 
the  elegant  scholar,  the  daily  associate  of  Johnson  and  Garrick, 
could  so  bring  her  style  of  thought  and  diction  down  to  the  level  of 
a  rank  of  intellect  of  which,  among  free  adults,  we  in  this  age  and 
land  have  little  idea.  Among  her  private  papers  was  found  this 
thanksgiving : — "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  that  I  have  been  spared 
to  accomplish  this  work.  Do  thou,  0  Lord,  bless  and  prosper  it  to 
the  good  of  many.  I  have  devoted  three  years  to  it.  Two  millions 
of  these  tracts  were  disposed  of  during  the  first  year." 

Mrs.  Rebecca  ^Yilkinson,  of  Clapham,  in  Surrey,  engaging  in  the 
same  labour  of  love,  was  instrumental  in  distributing,  either  gratuit- 
ously or  at  reduced  prices,  nearly  half  a  million  of  tracts  and  prayer- 
books.  The  Rev.  John  Campbell,  in  17 S9,  seems  to  have  originated, 
though  on  a  small  scale,  an  organization  more  like  a  modem  tract 
society  than  anything  which  had  gone  before  it.  Thus  by  degrees 
the  minds  of  the  pious  were  turned  to  the  important  duty  of  preach- 
ing the  Gospel  by  means  of  the  press;  and  various  plans  for  bring- 
ing every  heart  and  mind  in  contact  with  the  word,  were  gradually 
assuming  shape. 

The  Rev.  George  Burder,  of  Coventry,  has  the  honour  of  having 
originated  the  Religious  Tract  Society.  He  began  by  publishing  at 
his  own  charge  tracts  for  gratuitous  distribution  or  for  sale  at  very 
low  rates.  After  a  short  time,  a  personal  friend  of  his,  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Grcatheed,  united  in  his  plans  and  responsibilities.  The 
failure  in  business  of  their  publishing  agent,  a  London  bookseller, 
caused  them  to  wish  for  something  on  a  stronger,  more  permanent 
basis,  for'  the  prosecution  of  their  plans.  At  length,  on  the  8th  of 
May,  1799,  at  a  missionary  meeting  held  at  Surrey  Chapel,  of  which 
the  celebrated  Rowland  Hill  was  then  the  pastor,  Mr.  Burder  sub- 
mitted his  plans  to  the  ministers  present.  The  enterprise  was  bailed 
with  so  much  enthusiasm  and  hearty  zeal,  that  in  two  days  from 
that  time  a  constitution  had  been  adopted,  a  board  of  officers  elected, 
and  the  "Religious  Tract  Society"  was  complete  in  all  its  arrange- 
ments. A  fact  not  devoid  of  interest  is,  that  the  board  of  officers 
first  elected,  twelve  in  number,  all  lived  to  meet  again  at  the  twenty- 
fifth  anniversary  of  the  society.  The  total  income  the  first  year  was 
about  $2,400,  and  the  issues  were  about  two  hundred  thousand  tracts. 
In  the  year  1S49,  the  income  reached  $"240,000,  and  the  publications 
were  eighteen  millions  in  number.  The  receipts  of  the  first  fifty 
years  were  five  millions  of  dollars ;  and  five  hundred  millions  of  pub- 
lications, in  one  hundred  and  ten  languages,  were  distributed 
Moreover,  principally  through  the  agency  of  the  leading  spirits  of 


1856.]  The  Tract  Movement.  IS 

this  organization,  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  was  estab- 
lished in  1S04,  which  has  scattered  among  the  nations  thirty  millions 
of  Bibles  and  Testaments,  in  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  languages. 

AVhiic  Christians  in  England  were  thus  at  work,  the  American 
Churches  were  not  inactive.  In  1S25,  the  American  Tract  Society 
was  founded,  an  organization  which  at  half  the  age,  far  exceeds  the 
Kn^^lish  predecessor  in  the  magnitude  and  completeness  of  its 
arrangements,  and  in  the  energy  with  which  its  afiairs  are  managed. 
From  the  London  society  we  have  nothing  later  than  the  Jubilee 
Memorial,  and  consequently  we  cannot  compare  the  two  with  much 
exactness.  In  1S49  the  income  of  the  London  society  was  $240,000, 
of  which  $30,000  were  received  in  donations,  and  the  rest  from  the 
sale  of  publications.  The  income  of  the  American  Tract  Society 
for  the  year  ending  May  10,  1854,  was  $415,000,  of  which  $150,000 
were  received  in  donations.  In  1849  the  London  society  gave  away 
books  and  tracts  to  the  amount  of  $39,000  cash  value;  in  1S54,  the 
American  society  distributed  gratuitously  136,096  volumes,  and 
73,000,000  pages  of  tracts,  besides  giving  $20,000  in  cash  for  for- 
eign distribution,  worth  in  all  about  $115,000.  During  the  same 
year,  the  American  society  employed  six  hundred  and  nineteen  col- 
porteurs, who  held  over  twelve  thousand  public  prayer  meetings, 
sold  half  a  million  of  good  books,  and  visited  five  hundred  and  sixty- 
eight  thousand  families,  of  whom  thirty  thousand  were  found  desti- 
tute of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

The  American  Baptist  Publication  Society  was  established  in 
1824.  The  Annual  Keport  for  1854,  states  that  the  receipts  for  the 
year  were  $49,012;  about  $35,000  having  been  received  from  sales, 
and  the  rest  consisting  of  donations  to  the  society.  Their  colpor- 
teurs, sixty- seven  in  number,  are  half  of  them  ministers,  who  not 
only  preach  as  they  have  opportunity,  but  baptize  converts  and 
organize  Churches.  The  report  notes  the  organization  of  nine 
Churches  in  this  way  during  the  year.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place 
to  add  that  the  entire  corps  of  workers  seem  strongly  imbued  with 
denominational  spirit,  though  not  uncharitably  or  offensively  so,  so 
far  as  it  appears  from  the  document.  Many  of  the  books  sold  by 
them  are  controversial  in  their  character,  and  much  zeal  is  shown  to 
get  the  community  right  on  the  controverted  question.  The  opera- 
tions of  the  society  are  carried  on  with  commendable  energy,  and 
the  results  are  good. 

The  Brcsbyterian  Board  of  Publication  employed  the  last  year 
one  hundred  and  lifty-one  colporteurs,  who  put  in  circulation  ono 
hundred  and  thirty-five  thousand  nine  hundred  and  eighty-three 
bound  volumes,  and  one  million  three  hundred  thousand  pages  of 


16  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

tracts.  Number  of  families  visited,  sixty- eight  thousand  one  hun- 
di-eJ  and  eighty-five.     The  total  income  for  the  year  was  ^103,544. 

The  Protestant  Episcopal  Society  employs  no  colporteurs,  and 
consequent!}'  its  business  operations  are  on  a  comparatively  small 
scale.  The  income  of  the  society  the  last  year  vras  §20,915,  of 
■which  §1,278  were  donations  and  collections. 

The  Board  of  Publication  of  the  Reformed  Protestant  Dutch 
Church  has  been  recently  organized.  We  should  infer  from  the 
Report  that  their  Avcll-devised  plans  -will  be  pursued  with  energy. 
One  rule  in  relation  to  colporteurs  is  worthy  of  notice,  as  its  general 
adoption  might  be  attended  with  good  results : — "  No  colporteur 
under  the  employ  of  the  Board,  shall  be  allowed  to  interfere  with 
other  denomiuations,  and  in  no  case  to  visit  the  families  of  such 
until  he  has  called  upon  the  pastors  and  obtained  their  consent." 
This  publication  society  has  not  yet  erected  buildings  for  a  printing 
and  binding  establishment,  but  has  efFected  an  arrangement  with  the 
Presbyterian  Board  of  Publication,  by  -sirtue  of  which  books  and 
tracts  may  be  procured  on  the  same  terms  upon  which  the  Presby- 
terian auxiliaries  are  supplied. 

Our  brethren  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  arc  also 
moving  with  spirit  in  the  tract  enterprise.  They  have  lately  organ- 
ized a  society  for  extended  operations,  and  placed  at  its  head  one 
of  their  ablest  men,  Rev.  J.  Bamiltou,  D.  D.  All  the  modern  appli- 
ances which  other  Churches  have  found  so  efficient,  are  provided  for, 
conference  agents  and  colporteurs  included.  As  in  the  operations  of 
the  society  of  our  own  Church,  the  publications  issued  from  their 
General  Book  Rooms  are  included  in  the  movement,  and  the  people 
are  thus  supplied  with  all  the  Methodist  books  which  they  vrant. 
Their  enterprise  is  not  yet  fairly  inaugurated,  and  they  have  not  yet 
published  their  first  report ;  but  from  what  we  have  learned  of  the 
Bociety,  we  anticipate  extended  usefulness  as  the  result  of  its  labours. 

Having  thus  sketched  the  origin  of  the  tract  enterprise,  and  illus- 
trated the  general  subject  by  showing  what  is  doing  among  some 
other  branches  of  Zion,  we  come  to  the  tract  enterprise  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church. 

At  a  very  early  period  in  his  ministerial  career,  John  Wesley  was 
impressed  with  the  vast  power  of  the  press,  and  the  duty  of  Chris- 
tians to  employ  it  for  God.  He  accordingly  began  the  good  work 
by  publishing  volume  after  volume  of  substantial  works ; — sometimes 
little  more  than  abridgments  of  books  whose  reputation  was  estab- 
lished, but  all  calculated  to  promote  sound  knowledge  and  true  piety. 
With  this,  he  joined  the  beginnings  of  a  tract  enterprise,  by  sending 
forth  little  publications  of  two  or  four  pages,  entitled  "  A  Word  to  a 


2356.]   ^  Th^  Tract  Movement.  11 

B wearer,"  "  A  ^Yord  to  a  Sabbath  Breaker,"  and  the  like ;  so  that  he 
could,  as  early  as  1745,  say,  that  "within  a  short  time"  he  had 
••  given  away  some  thousands  of  little  tracts,  among  the  common 
people."  To  the  last  day  of  his  Avonderful  life,  hi  employed  the 
same  powerful  aprcncy.  With  an  eagle  eye  upon  the  literature  of 
his  times,  he  watched  the  ebbs  and  flows,  the  tossings  and  the  calms 
of  the  great  mental  and  moral  deep,  ready  at  any  rnom.ent  to  launch 
his  life-boats  to  save  the  perishing.  How  Avell  in  at  least  one 
instance  his  auxiliary  served  him,  may  be  seen  in  the  result  of  the 
famous  controversy  of  1771,  in  which  Fletcher  of  Madeley  -^vas, 
under  God,  the  right  arm  of  his  defence,  and  the  press  the  sharp 
Bword  -with  which  error  -was  cloven  down. 

The  fathers  of  Methodism  in  America  were  aAvake  to  the  import- 
ance of  wielding  this  weapon  in  the  cause  of  God.     At  the  Christ- 
mas conference^of  1784,  at  which  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
was  organized,  amangements  wore  made  for  the  printing  of  books. 
In  17^9,  John  Dickens  was  appointed  Book  Steward,  and  the  nucleus 
was  formed  which  grew  gradually  into  our  present  extended  "  Book 
Concern."     But  it  was  found  that  in  the  prosecution  of  the  various 
publication  enteq-)rises  of  the  Church  a  division  of  labour  is  expe- 
dient, as  well  as  in  many  other  departments  of  human  effort,  and  in 
1817,  the  Tract  Society  was  formed.     In  his  History,  Dr.  Bangs 
thus  remarks:  "  The  Tract  Society  was  formed  this  year  by  some 
members  of  our  Church,  with  a  view  to  furnish  the  poorer  classes 
with  religious  reading.     It  is  true  that  a  small  society,  managed  by 
a  few  pious  and  benevolent  females,  had  been  formed  a  short  time 
previously,  but  its  operations  Averc  extremely  limited.     The  society 
now  formed  took  a  wider  range,  and  commenced  publishing  its  tracts 
and  distributing  them  with  spirit  and  energy."    Dr.  Emory,  inlS2S, 
when  he  was  senior  "  Book  Steward,"  advocated  the  publication  of 
cheap  religious  books,  as  well  as  tracts,  and  succeeded  in  creating  a 
new  organization  called  the  Publishing  Fund  for  this  purpose.     The 
plan  was  to  erect  a  publishing  house  for  the  use  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Bible  Society,  the  Sunday- School  Union,  and  the  Tract 
Society,  distinct  from  the  General  Book  Concern.     The  framers  of 
this  project  did  not  yet  aim  at  gratuitous  issues,  but  to  reduce  the 
price  of  Bibles  and  other  good  books  to  the  mere  cost  of  paper, 
presswork,  and  binding.     The  fund  never  amounted  to  a  sura  suffi- 
cient to  warrant  the  erection  of  the  contemplated  buildings,  but  the 
moneys  collected  were  applied  to  their  object  in  connexion  with  the 
establishment  already  in  existence.      In  March,   1S33,  the  three 
societies  were  merged  in  one,  and  committed  to  the  same  board  of 
management.     The  fusion  gave  too  many  interests  into  the  keeping 


18  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

of  the  same  hands,  and  in  1836,  the  General  Conference  resolved  t-o 
unite  ^Yith  other  evangelical  denominations  in  the  support  of  the 
American  Bible  Societ}'-.  The  Sunday-School  Union  and  the  Tract 
Society  remained  united  till  1840,  Avhen  the  Sunday-School  Union 
vras  erected  into  a  separate  organization,  and  the  tract  enterprise 
■was  abandoned  for  the  time  to  its  fate.  At  the  General  Conference 
of  1S44,  Rev.  D.  P.  Kidder  "i\-as  elected  "Editor  of  Sunday-school 
books  and  tracts,"  and  the  bishops  soon  after  uniting  in  a  circular 
addressed  to  the  annual  conferences,  urging  the  cause  upon  their 
sympathies  and  cooperation,  a  considerable  impetus  was  given  to 
the  movement,  and  it  began  to  assume  more  importance. 

Still,  our  appliances  were  hardly  up  to  the  times,  and  we  were  not 
competing  on  anything  like  equal  terms  with  other  denominations. 
A  local  society  was  formed  by  the  members  of  the  .Methodist  Church 
in  New- York,  in  184G,  and  an  experimental  colporteur  was  sent 
forth,  like  the  dove  from  the  ark,  to  see  if  a  new  agency  might  find 
rest  for  the  sole  of  its  foot.  At  the  end  of  three  months  he  returned 
and  reported  that  he  had  visited  six  hundred  and  eighty- six  families, 
and  had  sold  eight  hundred  religious  books  and  over  three  thousand 
pages  of  tracts,  besides  making  donations  to  those  desirous  of  possess- 
ing but  unable  to  buy.  The  conviction  spread  that  we  must  not  bo 
laggards  in  the  new  field,  into  which  other  denominations  were  already 
beginning  to  enter  with  commendable  zeal  and  great  success.  In  fact, 
the  preachers,  especially  on  the  Atlantic  states,  had  become  unable  or 
unwilling  to  follovr  the  example  of  the  fathers  in  circulating  books, 
and  our  people  found  it  more  easy,  in  many  cases,  to  supply  them- 
selves with  the  books  of  other  publication  societies  than  with  those 
of  our  own,  and  thus  there  was  danger  that  our  denominational  liter- 
ature would  be  thrust  from  the  position  which  it  ought  to  occupy.  Dr. 
Kidder,  to  whom  the  Church  is  much  indebted  in  this  matter,  advo- 
cated the  formation  of  a  new  society;  and  when  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  1852  met,  he  addressed  to  it  a  memorial,  setting  forth  strong 
reasons  for  the  contemplated  movement.  The  bishops  had  recom- 
mended it  in  their  address,  several  annual  conferences  had  formally 
approved  the  measure,  and  the  project  met  with  universal  favour. 

"  The  General  Conference,  -nith  great  unanimity,  determined  upon  the 
oriranization  of  a  Tract  Society,  prepared  a  constitution,  and  appointed  an 
additional  ofHccr,  Rev.  Abel  Stevens,  '  editor  of  the  I\Ionthly  Magazine  and 
Tracts,  and  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Tract  Society.' 

"  On  the  lOtli  d;iy  of  November,  18.') 2,  the  society  began  its  operations  under 
the  most  favourable  auspices.  Its  energetic  secretary,  by  direction  of  the 
Board,  and  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the  (General  Conference,  printed  and 
sent  out  documents,  circulars,  and  appeals  to  the  Church  in  various  forms; 
thoroughly  revised  the  list  of  tracts,  replacing  those  deemed  obsolete  by  new 


1850.]  The  Tract  Movement,  19 

ono-s  and  added  seventy-eight  to  the  number;  instituted  a  volume  series  which, 
in  llic  Kriglish  and  oIIht  hinguage?,  reached,  during  his  administration,  sixty- 
four  volumes;  travelled  extensively,  visiting  conferences,  delivering  addresses, 
Ajtsiiting  in  organizing  auxiliaries,  taking  collections,  and  in  various  -ways  stir- 
ring up  puMic  interest,  and  directing  the  actions  of  the  societies.  The  move- 
tneut  mot  with  a  most  hearty  and  enthusiastic  response  from  the  Methodist 
r»^r>[,!o.  The  contributions  and  subscriptions  were  unexpectedly  large.  Thirty- 
M\  .-Duferen'jes  organized  auxiliaries — thirteen  appointed  special  agents — some 
ci_'hty-scvca  colporteurs  were  sent  out,  and  the  distribution  of  books  and  tracts 
ri-eivvd  an  impulse  of  greater  inHueuce  and  power  than  its  most  sanguine 
fnonds  had  anticipated." — Annual  Report  of  IBbH,  page  23. 

As  the  action  of  the  conferences  -svas  needful  to  complete  the 
new  organization,  the  first  annual  report  was  not  published  till 
December,  1S53,  and  even  then  it  included  only  the  fraction  of  a 
jear,  during  which  the  society  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  opera- 
tion. The  report,  nevertheless,  was  exceedingly  cheering  to  the 
most  sanguine  friends  of  the  enterprise.  We  append  a  part  of  the 
figures  given : — 

Conference  Auxiliaries 36 

Colporteurs  in  actual  service 87 

Conversions  reported 68 

Pages  of  Tracts  sold,  (one-third  in  German) 6,891,240 

Tract  volumes  sold 101,730 

Books  of  Geiicral  Catalogue  sold,  value §12,000 

Donations  collected §16,407 

As  might  have  been  anticipated,  the  extended  operations  of  the 
new  society,  and  the  important  interests  involved,  soon  demanded 
the  entire  services  of  a  superintendent,  one  who  could  apply  both 
hands  to  the  work,  and  not,  like  tlie  builders  of  i^ehcmiah,  hold  the 
weapon  of  this  warfare  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  was  toil- 
ing hard  at  another  enterprise,  sufficient  of  itself  for  any  one  man. 
At  the  meeting  of  the  Book  Committee  in  February,  1S54,  Brother 
Stevens  resigned  his  position  in  the  tract  department.  His  ener- 
getic labours  have  told  upon  our  Church  and  the  cause,  and  the 
favourable  auspices  under  which  the  new  enterprise  began  its  career 
are  attributable  in  no  small  degree  to  his  vigour  and  skill.  Dr.  Jesse 
T.  I'eck  was  elected  to  the  chrrt-ge  of  the  tract  interests,  and  from 
hi.s  abilities  and  zeal  the  Church  will  expect  much. 

The  second  anniversary  of  the  society  was  held  at  Portland,  Maine, 
in  February  last.  Those  whose  privilege  it  was  to  attend  that  three 
days'  festival,  with  its  sermons,  addresses,  and  meetings  for  telling 
colporteur  experience,  must  have  enjoyed  a  feast  of  fat  things.  In 
looking  over  the  numerical  items  of  the  report  presented  on  that  inter- 
esting occasion,  we  cannot  but  be  painfully  struck  with  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  full,  reliable  statistics,  in  whose  preparation  many  hands 


20  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

must  be  employed.  To  render  this  report  complete,  correct  replies 
to  tAYcnty  regular  questions  must  be  had  from  each  of  forty  auxil- 
iaries. Consequently  the  totals  must  be  made  up  from  eight  hundred 
separate  sums,  each  of  ■s\-hich  is  an  aggregation  of  items,  and  the 
accuracy  of  the  -whole  depends  upon  the  accuracy  and  promptness 
of  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  persons.  To  train  such  a  regiment 
to  exactness  and  despatch  is  of  itself  no  small  task,  and  as  in  the 
present  case,  the  most  of  them  are  new  recruits,  no  one  need  be  sur- 
prised at  the  imperiections  of  the  returns,  and  that  there  are  twice 
as  many  blanks  as  there  are  entries.  The  figures  given  foot  up  as 
follows ; — 

Colporteurs  employed  durin-g  the  year 153 

Pages  of  Tracts  distributed 11,784,627 

Donations  collected  by  ten  agents S19,5G7 

Aggregate  receipts  of  the  Society $61,053 

Families  visited  in  fourteen  auxiliaries 91,751 

ConTersions  reported  in  nine  auxiliaries 624 

Volumes  sold  or  donated  in  eight  auxiliaries 80,613 

This,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  exceedingly  gratifying ;  but  as  a  report, 
it  is  to  us  very  unsatisfactory.  We  want  the  full  returns,  and  we 
trust  that  with  a  little  more  experience  on  the  part  of  agents  and 
colporteurs,  wc  shall  hereafter  have  statistics  which  will  not  only 
satisfy  curious  minds,  but  prove  reliable  as  a  basis  for  reasoning  in 
regard  to  the  whole  system.  The  ^ylethodists  have  been  blessed 
■with  such  prompt  success  in  their  undertakings  hitherto,  that  they 
are,  of  all  men,  prone  to  expect  immediate  fruit  of  their  labours. 
Like  the  backwoodsman  at  the  battle  of  I^ew- Orleans,  who,  every 
time  he  discharged  his  rifle,  leaped  upon  the  breastwork  to  see  what 
execution  he  had  done,  they  want  to  be  sure  that  every  shot  hits. 
They  wish  to  know,  and  they  have  a  right  to  know,  what  is  effected 
by  the  various  benevolent  operations  for  which  they  furnish  the 
sinews.  Still,  we  do  not  make  these  remai-ks  b}-  way  of  censure, 
but  merely  to  express  our  strong  desire  to  have  full  and  accurate 
statistics,  and  call  the  attention  of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  persons 
aforesaid,  to  the  importance  of  keeping  correct  accounts  in  the  affairs 
of  the  Church. 

Enough  is  given  to  cheer  our  hopes  and  satisfy  our  reason,  in 
regard  to  the  success  of  the  society.  The  blessing  of  God  has 
descended  upon  it,  and  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  have  sped 
with  its  messages  of  truth  and  peace.  Light  has  come  into  many 
darkened  habitations ;  angels  in  heaven  have  joyed  over  repentant 
sinners,  and  gladness  has  sprung  up  in  many  a  sad  heart.  The 
faithful  labourer,  with  his  package  of  books,  has  found  favour  in  the 


jg56.3  1^^^  Tract  Movement.  21 

eyes  of  the  people,  the  Churches  have  contributed  liberally  of  their 
substance,  and  as  it  has  been  happily  expressed,  the  youngest  child 
of  the  Church  seems  to  be  her  favourite.  With  these  general 
remarks  on  the  origin  of  the  society,  and  its  present  condition,  we 
luni  to  those  considerations  which  prompted  the  enterprise,  and 
Iiavo  givt-n  it  the  shape  it  wears. 

'J'liL'  field  in  which  it  proposes  to  labour  is  immense.  According 
to  the  estimates  based  on  the  last  census,  the  United  States  have  at 
(Lis  moment  about  twenty- seven  millions  of  inhabitants.  Four 
millions,  or  thereabouts,  of  these  are  foreigners,  gathered  out  of 
*'  every  kindred,  and  nation,  and  tongue,  under  the  whole  heaven.'' 
England  sends  us  her  quota  of  immigrants,  generally  informed  in 
regard  to  evangelical  truth,  and  many  of  them  substantial  Christians. 
Ireland  pours  in  a  multitude  of  the  followers  of  the  Pope,  and,  also, 
some  few  Protestants,  who  are  generally  valuable  accessions  to  the 
.American  Churches.  Germany  is  in  motion,  and  her  dreamy  sous 
are  coming  in  crowds  to  till  the  soil  of  our  fertile  plains,  and  retail 
lager  bier  in  the  cities  and  towns.  Europe  is  rolling  upon  our  shores 
the  tide  of  its  teeming  population,  multitudes  of  whom  know  not 
God,  even  in  the  scriptural  theory.  Here,  then,  is  an  opening  for 
any  amount  of  Christian  effort,  and  we  will  be  doing  no  small  share 
of  the  work  of  the  general  Church,  if  we  provide  the  means  of 
preaching  the  Gospel  to  all  who  come  to  us. 

Our  AVesleyan  brethren,  in  contrasting  their  missionary  collections 
with  ours,  do  not  always  do  us  full  justice.  Their  home  territory 
has  all  been  surveyed,  their  circuits  established,  their  chapels  built, 
and  their  home  work,  compared  with  ours,  may  be  said  to  bo  done. 
The  American  Methodists,  on  the  contrary,  are  extending  the  sphere 
of  their  hibours  in  every  direction.  We  probably  expend  in  build- 
ing and  refitting  churches  and  parsonages,  and  in  paying  Church 
debts,  a  million  of  dollars  annually — perhaps  more.  We  are  estab- 
lishing schools,  endowing  colleges,  and  driving  on  scores  of  projects 
at  the  same  time.  And  every  year,  almost,  some  new  corner  of  tho 
territory  is  found  full  of  special  promise,  some  new  enterprise  for 
God  and  souls  is  set  on  foot,  and  fresh  demands  are  made  upon  the 
Bjmpathies,  the  purses,  and  the  active  labours  of  Christians.  We 
do  not  bflieve  that  any  part  of  universal  Zion  is  working  harder, 
contributing  more  money,  and  showing  higher  hope,  more  chivalrous 
enterprise  in  doing  good,  than  American  Methodism.  And  we 
would  add,  vath  all  deliberation,  that  Christians  in  other  lands  would 
have  little  cause  to  reproach  Americans  with  a  lack  of  missionary 
zeal,  if  we  should  abandon  the  foreign  field  to  them,  and  devote  all 
our  energies  to  the  evangelizing  of  the  crowds  of  immigrants  who 


22  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

are  pouring  into  our  country.  Is  it  a  Christian  virtue  to  preach 
Christ  to  the  idolatrous  Chinese?  Thousands  of  the  natives  of  the 
Celestial  Empire  are  to  be  found  in  California,  -where  they  have 
erected  a  pagoda,  the  first  temple  of  overt  idolatry  in  the  States. 
Is  it  Avell  for  us  to  tell  the  story  of  the  cross  to  the  sceptical  Ger- 
man? There  are  a  million  of  Germans  already  "within  our  borders, 
and  the  exodus  from  the  fitherland  bids  fair  to  continue.  Is  it  our 
duty  to  tell  the  -^vay  of  faith  to  the  blinded  followers  of  priests,  and 
the  superstitious  adorers  of  -wafers?  They  exist  in  our  midst  in 
hundreds  of  thousands.  It  may  be  gi-anted  that  the  proposal  to 
erect  a  mission  church,  or  establish  a  Sabbath- school,  three  streets 
from  our  own  door,  docs  not  rouse  a  poetic  imagination  so  strongly, 
or  afford  so  much  miaterial  for  impassioned  eloquence,  as  does  the 
idea  of  setting  up  the  standard  of  the  cross  side  by  side  with  the 
crescent,  or  building  the  church  hard  by  the  pagoda,  or  the  car  of 
Juggernaut.  Yet  the  missionary  efforts  put  forth  to  reach  and  save 
the  destitute  on  our  own  soil,  have  cost  fewer  lives,  and  less  money 
proportionably,  and  have  produced  more  good  results,  than  has  any 
foreign  mission  undertaken  by  Americans,  not  even  excepting  the 
Gospel  conquest  of  the  Sandwich  Islands. 

Let  no  one  construe  these  remarks  into  censure,  or  even  indiffer- 
ence in  regard  to  efforts  to  teach  the  heathen  of  other  lands.  In 
that  field  we  are  doing,  not  too  much,  but  far  too  little.  Still  let  us 
not  cultivate  a  philanthropy  of  such  telescopic  vision  that  we  become 
able  to  see  none  but  distant  objects.  The  deaf  mute  described  by 
Charlotte  Elizabeth,  having  been  patted  on  the  head  divers  times  by 
his  master,  in  token  of  commendation,  took  to  patting  his  head  with 
his  own  hand  whenever  he  fiincicd  that  he  had  done  anything  particu- 
larly nice  or  bright.  Thus  that  sapient  personoge  yclept  Brother 
Jonathan,  is  somewhat  fond  of  patting  his  own  head,  and  assuring 
himself  that  he  is  the  best  looking,  the  most  intelligent  and  virtuous 
individual  visible  on  the  globe,  and  that  he  can  run  faster,  fight 
harder,  and  make  more  money  than  any  one  else  in  that  extensive 
precinct  known  as  "all  creation."  It  may  cool  his  vanity,  and  do 
him  good  otherwise,  to  study  carefully  a  few  known  facts.  Of  the 
eleven  millions  of  our  free  people,  twenty  years  old  and  over,  one 
million  can  neither  read  nor  write.  The  colporteurs  of  three  of  the 
American  societies  named  at  the  head  of  this  article,  found,  in  one 
year,  thirty-eight  thousand  families  destitute  of  the  Bible,  and  this 
in  less  than  one-fifth  of  the  three  millions  six  hundred  thousand  fam- 
ilies which  compo.-?e  the  free  part  of  our  nation.  If  those  not  called 
upon  were  no  better  supplied,  we  must  have  had,  at  that  time,  two 
hundred  thousand  families  living  without  the  Scriptures  in  their 


1856.]  The  Tract  Movement.  23 

dwellings.  The  colporteurs  of  the  American  Tract  Society,  during 
the  same  period,  visited  ninety-two  thousand  five  hundred  and 
tliirty-one  farailios  v,\\o  heard  no  evangelical  preaching.  In  1S50. 
au  army  of  twenty- si:<  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-nine  per- 
sons were  convicted  of  crime  in  the  various  courts  of  our  nation, 
while  tlie  paupers  numbered  the  mightier  host  of  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five  thousand;  more  than  half  of  whom  were  foreigners. 
Jlore  is  an  appalling  amount  of  ignorance,  crime  and  misery,  in  our 
very  midst.  It  was  one  of  John  Randolph's  best  sayings,  that  ho 
uttered  in  reply  to  a  collector  of  funds  for  foreign  operations : — 
"Madam,  the  heathen  are  at  your  own  doors." 

Foreign  immigration  is  a  subject  which  should  attract  the  earnest 
attention  of  the  Christian  as  well  as  the  patriot.  For  the  last  five 
years  immigrants  have  been  arriving  at  the  rate  of  about  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  annually,  the  vast  majority  coming  from 
papal  Ireland  and  sceptical  Germany.  Persevering  efforts  are  made 
to  keep  them  what  they  are,  and  yet  they  are  far  more  accessible  to 
truth  here  than  at  home.  Infidel  papers  in  his  mother  tongue,  play- 
ing artfully  upon  the  innate  love  of  home  and  home  ideas  and  cus- 
toms, so  peculiarly  strong  in  the  German,  teach  him  low  pleasures 
and  low  morals.  In  regard  to  the  Catholics  in  this  country,  the 
grand  device  of  the  priests,  and  of  papal  workers  of  every  descrip- 
tion, is  to  teach  their  dupes  to  hate  and  despise  Protestants,  to 
regard  them  as  their  bitter  enemies,  and  consider  even  acts  of  kind- 
ness from  them,  as  designed  only  to  delude  and  betray.  Still,  in 
spite  of  all  efforts  to  keep  the  eyes  of  "the  faithful"  closed,  many 
will  nov,-  and  then  steal  a  glance  at  things  about  them.  The  truth 
falls  upon  them  from  every  quarter,  and  with  alarming  facility  they 
learn  to  think  for  themselves.  Romish  functionaries  are  evidently 
Bore  troubled  by  the  independence  and  intractability  of  their  once 
abject,  obedient  followers.  Hence  one  of  the  dignitaries  of  the 
Church  declares  that  Catholics  who  are  not  compelled  to  emigrate, 
ought  to  remain  at  home,  and  not  come  to  this  dangerous  land, 
where  their  children,  if  not  themselves,  will  be  sure  to  stray  from 
the  papal  fold.  A  priest,  in  reply  to  the  question  whether  professed 
Catholics  in  this  country  are  as  good  Catholics,  as  obedient  to  the 
priests,  and  as  faithful  to  Church  observances,  as  in  the  lands  from 
which  they  come,  declared  with  great  emphasis :  "  The  venj  atmos- 
phere of  this  country  is  full  of  insubordination."  According  to 
their  own  confessions  their  craft  is  in  danger.  Popery  is  not  only 
compelled  to  forego  its  prerogative  of  coercion  Avhcn  it  embarks  on 
the  Atlantic,  but  is  even  compelled  to  leave  behind  some  of  its  most 
effective  machinery  for  moving  the  ignorant  and  the  credulous.     In 


24  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

American  chapels,  gypsum  angels  conduct  themselves  with  commend- 
able propriety,  and  the  painted  Madonna  never  disturbs  the  gravity 
of  the  priest  by  tipping  him  a  profane  wink  as  he  carries  around  the 
plate  for  the  contributions  of  believers.  Catholics  here  take  the 
papers,  and  begin  to  reason  -svith  regard  to  the  claims  of  the  various 
ecclesiastical  bodies  around  them.  The  anxiety  of  the  bishops  to 
have  all  Church  property  vested  in  themselves  is  a  very  significant 
fact.  It  looks  very  much  as  if  they  anticipate  insubordination  and 
insurrection  among  their  followci's,  and  if  they  cannot  prevent  the 
people  from  slipping  through  their  fingers,  they  wish,  at  all  events, 
to  make  sure  of  the  property.  These  things  show  that  in  this  land 
of  light,  some  rays  will  penetrate  even  the  dark  caverns  of  Home, 
and  wake  the  sleepers. 

Here,  then,  is  one  important  part  of  our  field  of  labour.  A  mil- 
lion and  a  half  of  Catholics  are  in  our  midst,  with  the  scales  falling 
from  their  eyes,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  whispering  to  their  hearts. 
They  can  be  more  easily  reached  by  books  and  tracts  than  by  the 
living  teacher.  In  the  code  of  the  priest,  to  enter  a  Protestant 
church  and  hear  a  sermon  is  a  heinous  sin,  to  be  visited  with  a  ten- 
fold heavier  penance  than  lying,  drunkenness,  or  profanity.  More- 
over, it  is  a  visible  thing,  and  the  priest  or  his  spies  will  detect  it 
and  sound  the  Church  thunders.  But  the  book  or  the  tract  can  be 
put  away  from  the  prying  eye  of  the  "holy  father,"  and  if  the  con- 
fessional should  fail  to  draw  it  out,  his  reverence  may  console  him- 
self with  the  fact  that  there  are  other  persons  to  whom  the  practice 
of  fibbing,  too  prevalent  among  certain  classes  of  his  disciples,  has 
often  proved  annoying. 

Tracts  and  religious  books  may  also  be  employed  with  good  effect 
by  our  missionaries  in  foreign  countries.  Many  idolatrous  nations, 
as  the  Chinese,  the  Hindoos,  and  the  Japanese,  are  given  to  reading, 
and  the  tract  for  which  so  maii}'  eager  hands  are  stretched  out  toward 
the  "teacher,"  may  go  from  hand  to  hand,  and  from  dwelling  to 
dwelling,  like  a  beam  of  Ileavou's  own  light.  The  following  inter- 
esting fact,  to  which  we  might  add  scores  of  others  from  the  reports 
of  the  various  publication  societies,  is  taken  from  the  Report  of  the 
American  Tract  Society.  It  is  related  by  the  Ilev.  Dr.  Scudder, 
missionary  at  Madras ; — 

"  The  case  is  that  of  K.  Das,  a  rcspoctablc  man  of  the  weaver  caste,  who 

without  ever  seeing  a  rnissionnrij,  or  it  C/in>'ian  of  any  kind,  has  for  a  consider- 
able time  renounced  idolatry,  and  bci'n  in  the  <njoynicnt  of  the  consolations 
of  tlic  Gospel.  Ilis  account  of  liiuistlf  is  .i-  <m!I.i\v.^.  He  returned  from  a  pil- 
griinaLre  to  Jujzgernaut  very  much  dissatisfied  with  what  he  saw  tliere,  and  his 
mind  ill  at  ease  about  the  worship  of  idols.  Jn  his  own  villaijc  ho  obtained  a 
tract,  entitled  '  God  is  a  Spirit.'     This  ho  read  again  and  agaia.     He  then 


J  g;j(j  ]  The  Tract  Movement.  25 

htArA  lliit  somo  mi^^iomries  had  been  seen  in  a  village  near  to  his  own,  and 
kvi  distril.iitod  tracts  tlniv.  Hi-  went,  as  he  said,  to  beg,  buy,  or  borrow  some 
o«'  Ui'  III-  Ho  (ihtaiiu-d  a  vi)liunc  of  tracts,  and  the  Gospel  by  John.  lie  soon 
nudi-  li!H'.s.-lf  a'-<iiiaiiitod  with  tlieir  contents,  and  commenced  in  secret  to  pray 
\n  t]>o  l\%iti2  (!<xi.  II*^'  tlien  disowned  his  Ibrmer  idols  and  all  connexion  with 
th'-n!.  !!•■  at  first  met  with  great  opposition,  both  from  his  own  family  and  his 
nri.,'it'<'!ir.-i ;  but  as  ho  had  some  iniluence,  and  was  able  to  plead  his  own  cause 
wjiii  a  "t>o<l  deal  of  ability,  he  did  not  at  first  meet  with  much  persecution. 
H,.  ...iiiiinied  worshijtping  the  true  God  for  almost  two  years,  before  we  again 
viviti-d  the  disti-iet.  So  soon  as  lie  heard  of  our  arrival,  he  came  to  us  -^'ith  the 
r.-.i'!c-t  that  wc  v,-ould  preach  in  his  village  :  al'cer  which  he  derlarcd  his  belief 
in  t!io  Saviour  whom  we  had  preached,  and  wished  to  be  baptized.  He  gave 
so  satisfactory  an  account  of  his  conversion,  that  we  invited  liim  to  I'erhampore, 
that  ho  might  be  received  into  the  Church  by  baptism.  We  may  add  that  he 
h.i«  since  been  baptized,  and  gives  us  reason  to  hope  he  will  become  a  very 
clhcient  native  preacher." — P.  152. 

The  means  ^vhicli  we  are  using  -u-ith  so  much  success  in  spreading 
the  truth  among  our  own  people,  has  thus  been  found  a  valuable 
au.xiliary  in  the  foreign  field.  Shall  American  Methodists  abandon 
this  cfToctive  instrument  to  other  denominations — let  them  do  all  the 
work  and  have  all  the  reward  V  We  rejoice  to  know  that  our  society, 
ycung  as  it  is,  has  already  put  forth  forty-two  difierent  publications 
in  the  German,  Danish  and  Swedish  languages,  and  that  our  mission- 
aries are  employing  them  with  good  success. 

In  regard  to  the  enterprise  in  general,  let  us  glance  at  the  motives 
which  urge  us  to  tlie  performance  of  our  duty.  A  thousand  millions 
of  im:iiortals  live  upon  the  earth  to-day,  each  shaping  an  eternal 
de.<tiny.  Sinners  may  drag  each  other  down  to  hell;  the  Christian 
may  lift  souls  heavenward.  Aliens  from  God  must  be  won  by  truth 
and  love.  God  places  the  truth  in  our  hands,  and  commands  us  to 
"Preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature."  Tell  of  Jesus  to  the  per- 
ishing. Spread  the  good  tidings.  Give  them  voice  on  every  wind. 
iSpeak  to  the  ear — address  the  eye.  Let  the  living  teacher  and  the 
n:ute  evangelist  go  hand  in  hand,  and  go  everywhere.  Let  the 
Church  not  be  fearful,  but  arise,  full  of  faith  and  hope,  and  "  sow 
beside  all  waters."  Already  in  China,  in  Burmah,  in  Ceylon,  in 
Turkey,  in  France  and  Germany  and  Sweden,  in  Mexico,  South 
America  and  Australia,  the  living  witness  and  the  voiceless  mes- 
senger have  gone,  and  already  the  wilderness  breaks  forth  in  songs. 
If  wc  love  souls,  and  desire  to  see  om-  Saviour  glorified,  let  us 
neglect  no  available  means  for  spreading  the  tidings  of  great  joy. 

But  there  are  additional  motives  which  appeal  strongly  to  our 
patriotic  emotions  and  principles.  Free  institutions  cannot  be  per- 
manent, unless  based  on  the  solid  foundation  of  national  intelli- 
gence and  national  morality.  Is  our  rock  so  strong  that  we  can 
bear,  Avithout  danger,  the  annual  addition  of  a  hundred  thousand 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VIIL— 2 


26  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

votes,  controlled  by  infidel  agitators,  or  wily  Jesuits,  more  attached 
to  a  foreign  despot  than  to  American  liberties?  Is  there  not  a 
possibility  that  this  new  force  will  be  exerted  amiss,  in  opposing 
salutary  reforms,  and  in  elevating  to  oflBce  unwoiihy  men,  under 
whose  weak  or  corrupt  rule,  law  shall  cease  to  protect  the  innocent 
and  to  be  a  terror  to  the  guilty  ? 

It  is  evident  that  we  ought  to  adopt  all  right  measures  to  Ameri- 
canize, as  rapidly  as  possible,  our  foreign-born  citizens  and  their 
descendants.  The  sooner  the  foreign  language,  and  the  foreign 
manners  and  customs  are  laid  aside — the  sooner  American  modes  of 
thought  and  feeling  are  acquired — the  better.  In  fact,  the  first  gener- 
ation trained  up  on  American  soil,  and  in  habits  of  daily  intercourse 
with  Americans,  lose,  to  a  very  great  degree,  the  peculiarities  of  the 
races  from  which  they  sprung.  But  there  is  no  bond  of  union  like 
that  of  religion.  It  takes  hold  upon  the  deepest  emotions  of  our 
nature,  and  the  most  tender  fibres  of  the  heart,  and  from  it  springs 
the  strongest  brotherhood  that  binds  man  to  his  fellow.  In  seeking, 
therefore,  to  harmonize  and  soften  down  our  various  national  elements 
into  one  safe,  healthful  and  beautiful  whole,  there  is  no  means  com- 
parable with  judicious,  honest,  Christian  effort  to  enlighten  their 
minds  and  save  their  souls.  Send  out  ministers,  colporteurs,  books, 
tracts,  that  the  dwellers  in  our  republican  Babel  may  exclaim,  as 
did  the  Jews  who  had  come  up  to  Palestine  from  many  lands  :  "  We 
do  hear  them  speak  ix  OUR  tongue,  the  wonderful  words  of  God." 

But  there  is  a  denominational  motive,  as  well  as  a  patriotic  one, 
to  deal  liberally  with  the  Tract  enterprise.  Other  denominations 
have  entered  the  field,  and  laboured  with  great  zeal,  and  ah-eady 
their  reapers  return  with  joy,  bringing  their  sheaves  with  them. 
That  mammoth  institution,  the  American  Tract  Society,  is  in  the 
receipt  of  an  income  seven  times  as  great  as  that  of  our  society,  and 
employs  four  colporteurs  where  we  employ  one.  The  various  sec- 
tions of  the  general  Church  arc  organizing,  or  have  years  ago  organ- 
ized, cheap  publication  societies,  and  are  preparing  every  year  for  a 
more  extensive  and  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  enterprise.  Many 
of  their  publications  are  strongly  denominational,  and  not  a  few  of 
them  contain  direct  attacks  upon  the  spirit,  doctrines  and  polity  of 
the  Methodist  Church.  Some  denominations,  too,  send  forth  their 
colporteurs  to  cooperate  with  their  homo  mission  and  church  exten- 
sion associations,  and  wherever  it  is  practicable,  congregations  are 
organized,  pastors  are  established,  and  possession  is  taken  of  the 
land.  Christian  zeal  and  intelligent  activity  are  creditable  to  those 
■who  manifest  them,  and  if  we  suffer  others  to  outdo  us,  we  must  bear 
it  in  silence. 


IS56.3  The  Tract  Movement.  27 

It  may  be  added,  with  truth,  that  even  books  not  directly  incul- 
cating doctrinal  peculiarities,  are  nevertheless  frequently  one-sided 
in  their  effect.  There  pertains  to  each  doctrinal  school,  not  only  a 
peculiar  do;:;niatic  system,  but  a  peculiar  style  of  general  thought 
an<1  expression,  and  a  peculiar  style  of  emotion,  ^yhich  act  and  re- 
act upon  each  other  and  tend  to  mutual  reproduction.  None  but  a 
[genuine  Methodist  can  write  a  genuinely  Methodist  hook ;  a  genuine 
Calvinist  can  write  nothing  but  a  Calvinistic  book;  and  the  unpreju- 
diced person  who  reads  attentively  the  book  of  either,  however  free 
from  sectional  peculiarities  it  may  bo,  will  be  more  or  less  deeply 
inoculated  with  the  theological  system  of  the  author.  These  vari- 
ous societies  are  pushing  their  work  with  gi-eat  diligence,  and  within 
the  last  two  years  they  have  probably  visited  half  the  dwellings  of 
our  entire  nation.  And  they  make  little  distinction  among  those 
upon  whom  they  call.  A  Baptist  colporteur  will  stop  at  the  door 
of  a  Methodist,  and  a  Methodist  visit  a  Presbyterian  family,  and 
both  be  successful  in  selling  books.  This  fact  is  so  undeniable  that 
the  Report  of  the  Presb3-terian  Board  asserts,  in  emphatic  italics, 
that  "  Tlic  denojninatinnal  character  of  their  publications  causes 
no  material  hindrance  to  their  circulation."  We  may  rest  assured 
that  our  people  will  be  supplied  with  books  from  some  quarter,  and 
if  we  deal  v/ith  a  slack  hand,  and  fail  to  supply  their  wants,  we 
ought  to  rejoice  that  other  communions  have  the  wisdom  and  energy 
to  cultivate  the  field  which  would  otherwise  be  a  desert.  If  we  fail 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  times,  and  thus  lose  our  command- 
ing position,  we  will  deserve  to  lose  it;  and  if  while  neglect  and 
ap'.ithy  drag  us  down,  others  rise  by  laborious  Christian  effort,  they 
deserve  their  success. 

Still  we  do  not  like  to  profess  a  magnanimity  for  which  there  is 
no  occasion.  We  confess  that  Ave  utter  these  things  the  more  boldly 
from  our  strong  conviction  that  the  ^lethodist  Church  Avill  not  bo 
remiss  in  this  matter.  Her  leading  minds  have  always  been  noted 
fir  faith,  hope,  and  energy  in  every  good  word  and  vrork;  her  whole 
career  is  full  of  bold  enterprise,  and  her  ministers  and  people  are  as 
full  as  ever  of  the  old  fire.  She  will  still  win  her  triumphs,  by  the 
blessing  of  her  Master,  in  new  efforts  to  spread  the  truth  of  God. 
So  far  from  being  merely  a  casket  in  which  the  pearls  are  treasured 
up,  the  Church  must  be  the  strong  diver  that  plunges  into  the  ocean 
and  gropes  along  its  oozy  bottom  in  search  of  the  precious  spoil. 
The  Church  should  be  full  of  life  and  power,  bold  to  plan,  and  strong 
to  e.xecute  her  benevolent  designs.  Petty  schemes,  narrow  views, 
and  small  faith  have  no  place  in  planning  the  campaigns  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  the  more  of  spiritual  bravery  any  branch  of  the  Church 


28  The  Tract  Move7nent.  [January, 

militant  manifests,  tlie  more  rapid  its  progress,  the  broader  and 
deeper  its  mark  upon  the  times. 

Methodism  owes  its  vast  success  not  simply  to  the  plain,  common- 
sense  truth  of  its  theology,  but,  speaking  after  the  manner  of  men,  to 
the  vigour  and  energy  ^vhich  its  founders  infused  into  it.  John  Wes- 
ley had  no  idea  at  first  of  the  magnitude  to  -which  the  movement  would 
swell,  yet  his  eye  was  quick  to  detect  and  his  hand  quick  to  seize 
opportunity;  and,  by  a  rare  combination  of  prudence  and  chivalrous 
cntci-prise,  nothing  was  lost  through  either  rashness  or  timidity. 
Itinerant  preaching,  pastoral  visiting.  Sabbath  schools,  tract  distri- 
bution, and  the  cheap  volume  enterprise,  all  were  set  in  motion ;  and, 
in  fact,  John  Wesley  seems  to  have  rallied  around  him,  with  almost 
prophetic  wisdom,  all  the  appliances  and  instrumentalities  which  the 
modern  Church  has  found  so  efficacious  for  good.  The  greater  the 
degree  in  which  the  followers  of  Wesley  inherit  his  spirit  of  evan- 
gelical gallantry,  the  more  they  will  do  for  God  and  for  souls,  the 
more  deep  and  permanent  will  be  their  mark  upon  the  age. 

The  press  is  an  agency  which  no  branch  of  the  Church  can  neg- 
lect without  a  loss  of  power,  and  which  Methodists  will  never  neg- 
lect while  they  inherit  any  of  the  far-sighted  wisdom  of  the  fathers. 
When  Martin  Luther  threw  his  inkstand  at  the  devil,  he  used  the 
right  weapon,  though  not  exactly  in  the  right  way.  Kext  in  import- 
ance to  the  voice  of  the  living  teacher  come  the  types.  Infidelity 
knows  this  fact,  and  utters  its  venom  in  many  a  scurrilous  pamphlet, 
and  in  many  a  volume,  more  pretending  but  no  less  false. 
The  Church  understands  it,  and  lays  a  strong  liand  upon  the 
same  powerful  weapon.  Thus,  the  press  becomes  a  strong  battery, 
whose  guns  can  be  turned  upon  friend  or  foe,  and  for  the  posses- 
sion of  which  the  moral  belligerents  contend  in  many  a  fierce 
attack  and  stubborn  defence. 

But  we  are  in  danger  of  exceeding  due  bounds  in  the  length  of 
this  paper,  and  we  therefore  turn  to  the  consideration  of  the  various 
parts  of  our  new  organization.  The  Tract  Society  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church.  If  a  new  enterprise  of  the  Church  is  to  be  set 
on  foot,  the  first  requisite  is  a  brain — a  strong  practical  mind  to  lay 
the  plans  and  manage  the  interests  of  the  enterprise,  both  temporal 
and  spiritual.  There  must  be  some  one  to  think,  some  one  whose 
love  of  souls  and  whose  sense  of  responsibility  to  God  and  the 
Church,  will  cause  him  to  apply  to  the  work  all  his  energies  of  body 
and  soul.  It  seems  out  of  place  to  take  funds  collected  for  benevo- 
lent purposes,  and  pay  away  even  a  part  of  them  in  salaries,  which, 
from  the  very  necessity  of  the  case,  must  be  comparatively  high. 
Yet  if  the  objection  be  valid,  it  lies  with  equal  weight  against  a  paid, 


1856.]  The  Tract  Movement.  29 

or  "  supported  "  pastoral  ministry.  Even  in  cases  where  the  pulpit 
•Dxv;^t  be  supplied  "gratuitously,  the  congregation  gladly  sustain  a 
man  whose  sole  business  it  is  to  look  after  the  spiritual  interests  of 
hia  ilock.  But  if  the  interests  of  one  congregation,  composed  of  a 
few  hundreds  of  persons,  residing  in  the  same  vicinity,  demand  all 
the  energies  of  a  superintendent,  what  must  be  said  of  the  benevo- 
lent undertakings  of  the  Church,  with  their  vast  importance,  the 
number  of  laboui-ers  employed  in  various  ways,  and  their  business 
intricacies  V  These  considerations  have  induced  the  authorities  to 
create  a  new  Book- Room  officer, — the  Corresponding  Secretary  of 
the  Tract  Society, — and  in  their  judgment  the  Church  will  undoubt- 
edly acquiesce.  The  Report  mentions  the  labours  of  the  present 
secretary,  by  which  it  appears  that  in  less  than  one  year  he  travelled 
over  fourteen  thousand  miles,  attended  twenty- seven  annual  confer- 
ences, and  delivered  two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  addresses  and 
sermons,  besides  editing  books  and  tracts,  and  looking  after  the 
interests  of  the  society  in  general. 

In  addition  to  the  general  superintendent  of  the  society,  the 
plan  contemplates  the  appointment,  wherever  practicable,  of  confer- 
ence agents.  It  is  true  that  the  pastors  of  the  individual  congrega- 
tions are  men  of  ability  as  well  as  the  agent,  and  as  capable  of 
representing  the  abstract  cause  to  the  people  of  their  respective 
charges.  But  more  than  this :  we  will  take  it  for  granted  that  the 
pastor  will  take  hold  of  the  subject  so  earnestly,  that  his  appeals 
elicit  the  same  interest  and  the  same  pecuniary  results,  as  would  the 
labours  of  the  conference  agent ;  yet  there  remain  other  considera- 
tions in  favour  of  the  appointment  of  the  agent.  He  must  gather  a 
band  of  colporteurs,  assign  them  their  several  fields  of  labour,  and 
oversee  their  operations  generally.  So  important  is  this  superin- 
tendcncy,  that  some  of  the  publication  societies  have  in  the  service 
two  classes  of  officers,  one  to  address  Churches  and  collect  funds, 
and  the  other  to  marshal  the  hosts  of  colportage,  explore  the  fields 
to  be  won.  and  plan  the  campaign  against  ignorance  and  irreligion. 
Our  report  thus  describes  the  work  of  the  conference  agent : — 

"  Tlio  a;:;cnts  are  labourers.  They  visit  promptly  every  distiict,  to  organize 
U»c  work,  and  as  rapidly  as  possible  the  several  charges,  to  present  to  the  people 
the  subject  of  reading'  in  all  its  varied  aspects.  They  are  bound  to  inform 
thcni>elvcs  upon  the  power  of  the  press,  the  peculiarities  of  current  literature, 
to  jxiiiit  out  its  dan<icrous  tendencies,  put  our  people  upon  their  guard,  exhibit 
faithfully  the  excellence  of  our  own  publications,  create  or  stimulate  an  interest 
in  Methodist  books,  and  prepare  the  -way  for  their  sale.  They  are  to  exhibit 
fiiithluliy  the  various  benevolent  demands  of  the  Tract  Society,  in  connexion 
■with  the  pastor  take  up  the  annual  collections  and  subscriptions,  and  see  to 
the  appointment  of  tract  stewards  in  all  the  charges  and  tract  distributers  in 
all  the  classes.     They  are  to  carry  out  the  orders  of  the  Board,  in  appointing 


30  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

colporteors,  purcliasing  books  and  tracts,  and  appropriating  funds.  They  are 
to  super\-ise  and  stiniukte  the  whole  work  in  tlicir  respective  conferences 
They  are  to  keep  strict  and  accurate  business  accounts,  write  to  the  corre- 
sponding secretary  an  informal  statement  of  their  own  labours  every  month 
and  transmit  complete  official  quarterly  and  annual  reports  according  to 
instructions,  and  form  a  strong  bond  of  union  between  the  parent  and  auxiliary 
societies."     Piige  42. 

The  colporteurs  are  in  fact  the  rank  and  file  of  the  army,  or  as 
the  Baptist  Report  styles  them,  "  the  right  arm  of  the  service." 
We  had  constructed  a  brief  argument  to  show  the  great  efficiency  of 
this  class  of  Trorkers;  but  we  find  the  thing  so  Avell  done  in  the 
Report  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Society,  that  we  prefer  to  quote ; 
merely  observing  that  what  colporteurs  have  accomplished  for  others 
they  will  accomplish  for  us  : — 

"  The  experience  of  every  religious  Board  of  Publication  has  been  that,  in 
order  to  ditJuse  their  publications  and  expand  their  influence,  they  were  com- 
pelled to  adopt  a  system  of  agencies  which  has  received  the  approved  cogno- 
men of  colportage.  However  valuable  and  desirable  the  publications  of  a 
Board  may  be,  ihoir  sale  and  distribution,  if  dependent  upon  retail  custom, 
must  necessarily  he  too  limited  to  pay  even  expenses,  and  as  you  restrict  the 
field  of  circulation,  you  also  narrow  down,  to  a  very  small  compass,  the  sphere 
of  influence  exerted,  and  lessen  the  good  aimed  to  be  accomplished.  This 
your  Board  has  already  felt,  and  that  to  such  an  extent  as  to  prompt  them  to 
the  preparation  of  a  plan  for  colportage,  to  be  appended  to  their  operations, 
which  is  herewith  submitted  to  General  Synod  for  its  consideration  and 
adoption. 

"  If  the  publications  of  your  Board  are  to  be  widely  circulated,  and  the 
peculiar  features  of  our  own  Church  more  extensively  known,  we  must  have 
our  own  colporteurs  traversing  the  land,  visiting  our  people,  scattering  the 
light,  instructing  the  icrnorant,  and  leaving  behind  then:,  as  they  go  from  house 
to  house  and  from  field  to  fieM,  that  which  will  arouse  the  conscience,  convict 
the  sinner,  comfort  the  saint,  and,  at  the  same  time,  that  which  will  teach  the 
Christian  public  the  true  nature,  the  admirable  features,  the  Christian  spirit, 
and  the  prospective  destiny  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church.  By  this  means 
seed  will  be  sown  which  will  produce  an  abundant  harvest  of  good,  both  to 
the  souls  of  men.  and  also  to  the  Church  we  honour  and  love.  The  Presby- 
terian Church  owes  much  of  its  church-extension  under  God  to  the  faithful 
labours  of  the  colfiorteurs  of  its  Board  of  Publication,  who  have  carried  their 
works  into  distant  places,  which  would  never  have  been  reached  but  through 
this  instrumentolity.  And  we  are  firmly  of  the  opinion  that  such  would  be 
our  experience  as  a  Church,  if  the  same  means  were  employed  under  a  similar 
restrictive  system." 

The  efiiciency  of  the  system  is  demonstrated  by  the  Presbyterian 
Board  of  Publication,  who  adopted  it  in  1848,  and  in  six  years 
nearly  trebled  the  business  of  the  society. 

Several  of  the  publication  societies  employ  students  in  theological 
and  other  schools,  during  vacation.  The  American  Tract  Society, 
in  1S5-1-,  employed  eighty-eight,  and  the  Baptist  Society  thirteen,  in 
this  way.  The  Dutch  Reformed  Society  has  made  provision  for  the 
same  kind  of  labourers.     This  seems  to  us  a  judicious  arrangement. 


1656.3  The  Trad  Movement.  31 

"Voung  men  looking  forward  to  usefulness  in  the  Church,  are 
brou^^ht  in  contact  with  the  people,  and  thus  the  abstractions  of  the 
books  become  rcahtios  ;  the  future  pastor  learns  men  as  they  are, 
and  how  to  approach  them,  in  order  to  do  them  good.  Before  a 
colporteur  can  be  commissioned  in  the  Dutch  Reformed  Society,  he 
must  present  a  ccrtlticate  from  his  pastor,  giving  information  on  the 
following  points,  which  will  present  an  idea  of  the  proper  qualifi- 
critions : — 

"  1st.  Ilis  age.  2d.  The  fact  of  bis  Church  membership  and  its  duration. 
.3d.  Ilis  occupation.  -Ith.  "Whether  single  or  married.  It'man-ied,  the  number 
and  circumstances  of  his  family.  5th.  That  his  Christian  experience,  educa- 
tion, tact,  judgment,  and  energy  are  such  as  -will  render  him  both  etlicient 
as  a  colporteur  and  acceptable  to  the  people.  6th.  "Whether  he  possesses  suffi- 
cicnily  accurate  business  habits,  as  to  enable  him  to  keep  his  accounts  cor- 
rectly, and  also  properly  to  report  the  same  to  the  committee.  7th.  That  his 
character  for  integrity  is  such  as  to  warrant  the  committee  in  intrusting  their 
publications  in  his  hands.  8th.  The  length  cf  time  he  proposes  to  engage  in 
the  service  of  the  Board  as  colporteur.     9ch.  The  field  be  desires  to  occupy." 

The  report  of  our  own  society  thus  describes  their  peculiar 
province : — 

"  The  colporteurs  are  labourers.  They  are  to  make  themselves  thoroughly 
acfjuainted  with  the  plans  and  jjolicy  of  the  parent  and  auxiliary  societies,  and 
ivltli  Mfthodist  literature  especially ;  to  otrer  the  books  from  house  to  house ; 
to  search  out  the  poor,  the  sick,  and  the  ncjlected  everywhere  ;  distribute 
tracts,  oiler  kind  religious  instruction  and  prayers,  especially  wherever  the 
people  are  under  no  evangelical  pastoral  charge  ;  gather  the  people  into  the 
churches,  and  the  cliildren  into  Sunday  schools ;  hold  meetings  whenever 
practicable;  to  collect  funds  when  instructed  to  do  so;  to  keep  accurate  busi- 
ness accounts ;  make  full  monthly  reports  according  to  instructions ;  to  put 
themselves  into  comnumication  with  the  pastors,  act  under  their  advice,  and 
constitute  a  strong  bond  of  union  between  all  the  districts  and  the  conlerence 
societies."     Page  42. 

In  comparing  the  financial  systems  of  the  different  societies,  we 
find  various  modes  of  fixing  the  compensation  of  colporteurs.  The 
American  Tract  Society,  as  well  as  most  of  the  others,  pays  each 
man  two  hundred  dollars  per  year  and  his  travelling  expenses. 
Tlio  entire  expense,  salary  included,  is  about  two  hundred  and 
eighty  dollars  a  year.  In  the  operations  of  the  Presbyterian  Board 
tiio  entire  expense  reaches  nearly  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  per  day 
of  actual  service.  The  society  of  the  M.  E.  Church,  South,  furnishes 
books  at  prime  cost,  and  allows  the  colporteur,  in  selling  thcra.  to 
charge  a  small  advance,  to  remunerate  himself  Our  own  society 
adopts  in  some  cases  the  percentage  plan,  in-  others  the  fixed  salary. 
The  American  Tract  Society  prefers  the  salary  system,  because  there 
IS  then  "  no  pccimiary  inducement  for  turning  aside  from  destitute 
households.     Benevolent  sympathy  is  left  to  its  fullest  exercise,  and 


32  The  Tract  Movement.  [January, 

the  book-bearer  may  plead  •with  immortal  souls,  to  '  buy  the  truth 
and  sell  it  not,'  without  the  possible  suspicion  of  interested 
motives." 

In  the  Methodist  organization  another  wheel  is  added  to  the  ma- 
chinery, the  tract  steward  in  each  charge.  He  is  to  the  corps  of 
tract  distributers  in  his  congi-egation,  or  neighbourhood,  what  the 
conference  agent  is  to  his  brigade  of  colporteurs.  He  is  to  super- 
intend the  work  generally,  "  sec  that  distributers  are  appointed  in 
all  the  classes,  that  the  collections  are  taken,  and  the  supply  and 
distribution  of  tracts  are  judicious,  regular,  and  thorough."  The 
tract  distributers  go  through  the  community,  endeavouring,  in  a 
quiet,  unobtrusive  way,  to  adapt  to  its  work  the  tract  left  at  a  house, 
or  put  into  the  hands  of  an  individual;  ofttimes  giving  therewith  a 
word  of  pious  counsel.  They  watch  the  seed  with  interest,  and  if  it 
germinates,  are  ready  to  cultivate  it,  till  it  ripens  into  the  good  fruit 
of  personal  salvation. 

This,  then,  is  a  hasty  sketch  of  a  m.ovement  which  is  at  the  same 
time  a  noble  monument  and  the  fitting  exponent  of  the  intellectual 
progress  and  the  enlightened  benevolence  of  the  age.  Like  other 
benevolent  enterprises  it  appeals  to  the  people  for  men  and  money. 
It  points  to  the  thick  darkness  brooding  over  millions  ;  it  points  to 
the  souls  that  grope  in  the  gloom ;  and  asks  for  help  in  the  work  of 
leading  them  to  the  light.  It  points  to  the  souls  saved,  as  an 
earnest  of  what  may  be  accomplished  ;  the  first  sheaves,  which  are 
at  once  a  pledge  that  the  harvest  is  surely  approaching,  and  an 
example  of  its  rich  fruits.  It  points  to  the  treasures  of  the  Church, 
and  declares  that  the  gold  and  the  silver,  and  the  cattle  on  a  thou- 
sand hills,  are  the  Lord's.  It  appeals  to  our  love  of  God,  of 
souls,  of  our  native  land,  of  all  that  is  desirable  in  a  national  or 
personal  point  of  view.  One  of  the  most  powerful  and  the  most 
successful  of  the  agencies  of  the  Church,  it  demands  the  prayers, 
the  sympathies,  the  support,  and  the  active  cooperation  of  the 
friends  of  true  progress,  and  of  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
in  sincerity. 


185G.]  Memoirs  of  DupizL  83 


Akt.  II.— memoirs  of  DUPIN. 

1.  M'^moiret  de  M.  Dupin.     Tome  ler  et  2eme. 

2.  Sauvenirj  du  Barreau.     Par  M.  Dupin,  avocat,  ancien  baionnier.  Paris,  1855. 

TriK  French,  it  has  been  often  noted,  arc  a  memoir- -writing  people ; 
but  the  cause  of  the  peculiarity  is  less  agreed  upon  than  the 
fact.  The  explanation  of  the  French  themselves  is,  that  their 
nation  is  the  most  enlightened,  the  best  prepared  for  observation, 
the  best  provided  with  things  worth  writing ;  while  the  opinion  of 
foreign  countries  imputes  the  tendency  to  national  vanity. 

There  is  some  truth  in  each  account,  but  not  the  complete  truth 
in  both  together.  The  French  undoubtedly  pursue  parade,  not  alone 
in  toilet  and  in  table,  but  even  up  to  the  dress  and  display  of  typog- 
raphy :  indeed,  the  latter  is  a  mere  extension  of  the  ostentatious 
practice  from  the  exterior  and  the  corporeal  to  the  spiritual  person- 
ality. But  in  the  leaning  to  this  sort  of  authorship,  wherein  the 
writer  plays  the  hero,  the  French  motive  is  much  less  selfish  than 
it"  is  social.  A  Frenchman  publishes  his  memoirs  not  quite  to 
glorify  himself;  he  often  makes  the  publication  anonymously,  or 
even  posthumously ;  nay,  he  occasionall}'  gives  memorials  that  are 
discreditable  to  himself,  as  for  example  the  Confessions  of  Jean- 
Jacques  Rousseau :  all  which  cases  are  scarce  consistent  with  the 
predominance  of  mere  vanity. 

Agaui,  the  French  are,  of  all  civilized  nations,  possessed  of  the 
least  individuality.  But  we  should  consequently  find  among  them 
the  least  propensity  to  memoir- writing,  either  as  a  means  of  noto- 
riety or  an  effect  of  self-importance.  The  self-important  man,  that 
is,  the  man  of  individuality,  is  not  inclined,  in  fact,  to  give  his 
memoirs  to  the  public  ;  not  that  he  does  not  set  a  higher  value  on 
his  reminiscences  or  observations,  but  that  he  sets  a  lower  than 
common  on  the  approbation  of  others  ;  it  is  precisely  the  distinc- 
tion between  vanity  and  pride.  The  French  propensity  to  writing 
tnemoirs  cannot  then  proceed  from  either,  compatibly  with  the 
defective  individuality  of  this  people — not  even  from  the  source  of 
vanity,  in  at  least  the  ordinary  selfish  sense. 

The  main  motive  is  effectually  social.  It  is  in  fact  the  same 
yearning  for  self-communication  which  inspires  the  conversational 
and  public  habits  of  the  French.  The  French  people,  male  and 
female,  talk,  eat,  and  live  in  common ;  and  if  they  do  not  also  sleep 
BO,  it  is  because  of  the  impossibility.     A  Frenchman,  therefore,  who 


34  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

has  been  obliged  by  the  discretions  of  official  business  to  keep  for 
years  from  conversation  on  the  sayings  and  doings  of  his  "  expe- 
riences," feels  overwhelmed  by  the  load  until  he  gets  rid  of  it  in  the 
Bhape  of  memoirs.  There  is  of  course  a  share  of  vanity  in  the 
importance  which  he  thus  attaches  to  them ;  but  he  does  so,  not 
alone  because  they  refer  principally  to  himself,  but  because  he 
thinks  they  must  be  likewise  interesting  or  instructive  to  the  public : 
and  this  social  destination  redeems  the  weakness  or  the  vice  of 
vanity. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  explanation  which  the  French  themselves 


cive 


of  their  memoir- writing,  falls  substantially  within  the  terms  of 
the  same  solution  of  sociability.  For  this  spirit  of  self-infusion 
with  the  life  and  confidence  of  the  community  is  the  effect  only  of 
complete  equality — of  democracy ;  and  democracy  implies  a  rela- 
tively high  intelligence  and  civilization. 

A  confirmation  of  the  connexion  is  the  fact,  that  great  advances 
in  the  direction  of  liberality  have  all  been  followed  by  a  rage  for 
memoirs.  Such  was  the  case  in  England  after  both  her  revolutions, 
of  which  the  largest  portion  of  the  history  has  been  recorded  in  the 
shape  of  memoirs.  Our  own  American  revolution  presents  a  fuller, 
as  more  forward,  instance,  of  which  the  histories  continue  still  to  be 
conglomerates  of  memoirs,  or  of  biographies  which  are  but  memoirs 
in  their  application  to  third  parties.  The  correspondence  of  both 
these  personal  and  popular  modes  of  writing  with  the  progress  and 
the  prevalence  of  social  equalization  is  proved  directly  by  their 
growing  vogue  in  the  most  democratic  of  communities  ;  for,  in  this 
countr}^,  liave  we  not  everybody's  memoirs  or  bi<5graphy,  down  to 
those  of  retired  showmen  ? 

The  same  phenomenon,  but  in  a  duly  higher  sphere,  followed 
each  of  the  three  principal  revolutions  of  France,  The  calm 
succeeding  the  first  and  greatest  was  fdlcd  with  memoirs  and 
biographies,  to  the  exclusion,  almost  total,  of  the  higher  sorts  of 
publications.  It  is  the  philosophic  explanation  of  the  absence  in  the 
first  Empire  of  that  only  "  illustration  "  which  Europe's  master  failed 
to  supply, — the  illustration  of  creative  literature  and  philosophy. 
But  these  are  things  not  to  be  called  forth  by  pecuniary  or  poten- 
tial patronage,  but  by  the  stimulating  presence  of  an  appreciative 
public ;  and  the  public  of  the  first  Empire,  being  almost  wholly  and 
merely  popular,  it  could  appreciate  only  memoirs — that  is,  particulars 
and  personalities.  The  Restoration,  on  the  contrary,  produced  at 
once  a  blaze  of  genius,  because  the  public  then  addressed  was  the 
returned  aristocracy.  Thus  quite  spontaneous,  when  we  have  the 
clue,  is  the  solution  of  these  two  gi-cat  questions,  which  still  con- 


1956.}  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  35 

tinue,  m  France  itself,  to  be  considered  mystical  and  contradictory. 
The  "  despotism ''  of  Napoleon  would  serve  the  purpose  of  a  certain 
party,  to  explain  the  intellectual  barrenness  of  his  reign ;  but  that 
an  equal  despotism  should  produce  an  opposite  effect  cannot  be 
6^Yallo^vod  b}'  the  logic  of  even  political  partisanship.  The  social 
la^Y  may  be  expressed,  in  fine,  in  this  familiar  formula :  In  propor- 
tion as  the  popular  masses  attain  to  influence  upon  public  opinion, 
which  is  the  first  and  most  conspicuous  consequence  of  all  progres- 
sive revolutions,  the  corresponding  publications  proceed  both  fro7Ji 
antl  to  the  memory,  as  being  the  simplest  productive  faculty  of  the 
mind ;  and  in  proportion  as  the  reading  public  are,  on  the  other 
hand,  repurined,  by  "restoration"  of  the  instructed  classes  or  by 
education  of  the  popular  masses,  the  works  of  intellect  ascend  pro- 
gressively along  the  series  of  creative  faculties,  imagination,  reflec- 
tion, reason. 

Accordingly,  and  to  return  to  our  historical  indications,  the  rev- 
olution of  July,  too,  brought  back  the  incmoirs,  the  professors,  and  the 
journalists.  The  visitation  now  succeeding  the  repetition  of  1S48, 
tliough  duly  milder  from  the  restriction  on  these  tvro  last  classes 
of  propagandists,  is  spreading  recently  into  a  mania  of  memoir- 
writing.  Nothing  else  (excepting  pamphlets  about  the  war)  appears 
at  Paris.  The  most  prolific  of  the  romancers  fall  back  on  memory 
from  imagination.  The  famous  Alexander  Dumas  has  lately  pub- 
lished his  precious  memoirs,  and,  episodically,  everybody  else's. 
George  Sand  recounts  more  modestly  her  more  instructive  or  sug- 
gestive "  life,"  which,  by  the  way,  seems  very  different  from  what 
the  world  had  imagined.  Even  Dr.  A^eron,  a  retired  journalist,  has 
favoured  Paris  with  his  memoirs — which  is  as  low,  we  see,  as  things 
go  here,  as  A'eron  had  been  also  showman :  with  the  distinction, 
however,  in  honour  of  the  two  American  pai-allels,  that  the  French 
humbug  had  been  a  man  of  education. 

Returning  upward,  the  standard  writers  and  the  stanchest  states- 
men are  all  for  memoirs.  The  philosopher  Cousin  is  writing 
memoirs  of  female  saints ;  and,  from  being  Coryphaeus  of  skepti- 
cism, is  turned  continuator  of  Alban  Butler.  Another  dabbler  in 
philosophy  has  just  propounded  a  complete  system,  which  he  makes 
himself  the  centre  of,  and  calls  the  "  Memoirs  of  his  Times ;"  a 
thing,  however,  in  which  he  differs  from  the  great  majority  of  his 
predecessors  only  in  the  probably  unconscious  candour  of  his  title. 
M.  Villemain,  the  former  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  under 
Louis  Philippe,  can  do  no  better  than  give  us  volumes  of  his  ''Son- 
vemrs."  And  the  grave  Guizot  quits  in  turn,  his  lucubrations  upon 
English  history  to  publish  penitential  memoirs  of  his  late  lamented 


36  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

administration.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  most  variously- expe- 
rienced as  well  as  oldest,  the  most  voluminous  and  the  most  versa- 
tile of  French  jurists  and  politicians,  the  most  fidgety  and  witty  and 
vainglorious  of  living  Frenchmen  should  have  bethought  him,  amid 
this  rage,  to  write  his  Memoirs  ? 

M.  Dupin  was  in  public  life  for  something  over  half  a  century. 
For  thirty  years  he  was  at  the  bar,  for  twenty  years  upon  the  bench; 
and,  simultaneously,  he  was  for  most  of  the  time  an  active  politician, 
in  opposition  or  in  office  with  all  parties  and  all  governments.  An 
acute  spectator,  behind  the  curtain,  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  three 
dynasties,  it  was  however  only  in  1S30  that  his  official  career  com- 
menced. Nor  did  it  close  upon  the  downfall  of  his  patron,  Louis 
Philippe ;  M.  Dupin,  it  will  be  remembered,  became  republican  in 
1S4S,  and  was  even  speaker  of  the  constituent  assembly — which 
adds  the  passage  of  a  fourth  and  democratic  dynasty  to  his  expe- 
rience. He  even  made,  it  is  said,  advances  to  the  succeeding  and 
present  regime.  But  Louis  Napoleon's  stern  contempt  for  po- 
litical cameleons,  even  Avhen  they  take  his  o^\•n  hue,  gave  a  deaf 
ear  to  these  advances ;  and  so  Dupin  took  the  occasion  of  the  con- 
fiscation of  the  Orleans  property,  of  which  he  was  head  agent,  to 
quit  the  magistracy  and  the  public  stage.  What  will  give  zest  and 
credibility  to  his  disclosures  through  this  long  experience  is,  that 
he  seeks  not  to  dissemble  these  shocking  variations,  and  merely 
answers,  quite  professionally,  that  he  kept  throughout  to  his  first 
profession — that  of  advocating  all  causes  alike  for  cash. 

It  will  be  curious  to  peruse  his  ^Memoirs  at  the  epoch  of  the 
republic,  and  learn  the  plottings  to  draw  the  democrats  into  the  interest 
of  the  Orleanists.  This,  with  all  the  properly  political  department 
of  his  experience,  is  reserved  for  the  forthcoming  volumes  of  the 
publication.  The  present  are  confined  exclusively  to  his  profes- 
sional career.  But  having  held  a  leading  position  as  advocate  at 
the  French  bar  for  twenty  years  of  social  turmoil  and  political  re- 
action, he  was  employed  in  all  the  celebrated  causes-  of  that  stirring 
period;  and  there  are  several  of  sufficient  interest,  political  and 
even  romantic,  to  be  made  more  intimately  known  to  foreign  read- 
ers. As  to  the  purely  civil  and  professional  portion  of  the  Me- 
moirs, any  notice  of  them  would  concern  only  the  gentlemen  of  the 
bar ;  and  to  this  fraction  of  our  readers  we  can  spare  room  but  for 
a  few  statistics,  which  may  suggest  to  them  the  lore  and  labour  of 
a  leading  advocate  in  Europe. 

The  civil  causes  in  which  M.  Dupin  either  pleaded  or  gave 
counsel  amounted,  in  the  period  mentioned,  to  over  four  thou- 
sand.    The  manuscript  collection  of  his  "consultations"  alone,  that 


IS56.'}  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  37 

is  to  say.  his  written  opinions  or  rather  arguments,  compose  some 
twenty  folio  volumes,  each  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  pages.  In 
a-Ulition,  the  printed  briefs,  to  bo  distributed  to  the  judges  in  cases 
which  he  argued  orally,  make  a  collection  of  twenty-two  volumes  1 
M.  Dii)iin  has  besides  published  books  or  pamphlets  upon  most 
fuhjv'cts  within  the  sphere  of  jurisprudence  and  even  politics.  He 
bus  even  -written  one  of  them  in  Latin.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  they 
jin>  all  short,  as  befits  the  temperament  of  the  writer,  constitutionally 
barred  from  keeping  long  to  any  subject.  But  they  are  granted  to 
bo  sound  and  erudite,  as  far  as  such  a  feat  is  possible  to  a  man 
utterly  devoid  of  philosophic  principle.  It  should  be  added  to  the 
labours  and  the  merits  of  M.  l)upin,  that  he  is  the  self- retained  and 
standing  advocate  of  the  •'  Gallicau  Church." 

We  now  proceed  to  a  running  notice  of  a  few  of  his  "  Causes 
Cclebres,"  upon  the  personages  or  the  incidents  of  which  the 
Memoirs  throw  some  new  light.  As  some  of  the  principal  had 
their  occasion  in  the  well-known  episode  of  the  Cent-Jours,  or 
the  return  of  Kapolcon  from  Elba,  the  public  memoirs  of  our 
ftuthor  commence  with  1815,  and  some  particulars  of  the  last  mo- 
ments of  the  Empire.  He  remarks  that  at  the  Restoration,  the 
Bourbons  were  so  little  known  to  even  persons  of  the  age  and  posi- 
tion of  himself,  then  a  prominent  lawyer,  that  most  of  them  were 
ignorant  of  the  names  and  titles  of  these  princes.  Pamphlets 
and  proclamations  were  required  to  remind  the  people  that  Louis 
tf  tanislaus  Xavier,  at  first  Count  of  Provence,  then  Count  of  Lille, 
entitling  himself  Louis  XVIIL,  emigrant  of  1792,  was  brother 
of  Louis  XYL,  immolated  in  1793 ;  and  that  Count  d'Artois, 
who  was  the  first  to  emigrate,  was  the  brother  of  King  Louis 
XVIII.  A  trait  remarkably  characteristic  of  the  obliviousness 
of  the  French  people,  or  more  familiarly  the  levity  imputed  to  the 
Celtic  race. 

The  Xapoleonic  restoration  aforesaid  of  the  hundred  days,  was 
ihc  occasion  of  the  maiden  entrance  of  ]M.  Dupin  upon  the  stage  of 
politics.  The  sinking  emperor  on  his  return  made  a  concession  to 
liboralism  by  the  "Act  Additional"  to  the  "Constitutions  of  the 
Empire."  By  this  amendment  the  Senate  was  transformed  into  a 
Cliamber  of  Peers,  to  be  appointed,  however,  by  the  emperor  him- 
self, and  the  Corps  Legislative  into  a  Chamber  of  Representatives, 
wlio  were  to  be  elected  by  the  people.  M.  Dupin  was  made  a  rep- 
resentative at  the  resulting  general  election. 

He  owns,  however,  with  a  modesty  for  which  he  is  not  very 
famous,  that  the  competition  for  election  was  not  crowded ;  but  he 
does  so  to  bring  in  the  reason,  which  fully  compensates  his  amour 


S8  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

propre,  to  wit,  the  difGculty  of  the  position  at  that  crisis.  He 
accepted,  notvyithstandin:^^  upon  the  rule  of  conduct  above  ascribed 
to  him:  "An  advocate,  I  did  not  deem  myself  changing  profession 
or  ministry,  I  only  considered  myself  as  having  a  cause  additional 
to  defend — the  cause  of  my  country." 

The  ncvr  cause  he  set  accordingly  to  plead  at  once  in  professional 
fashion.  iS^apoleon,  seeking  to  secure  to  himself  the  fickle  faith  of  the 
new  Chambers,  required  the  members  to  take  an  oath  of  fidelity. 
But  our  bustling  barrister  objected  that  there  was  no  authority  for 
this  requirement  in  the  constitutional  "  bond,"  and  that  the  form,  if 
insisted  on,  should  be  in  virtue  of  an  express  law.  M.  Dupin  pro- 
posed, moreover,  a  general  revision  of  the  imperial  constitution, 
even  as  amended,  and  with  the  purpose,  now  avowed,  of  forcing 
Napoleon  to  abdicate  again.  He  denies,  however,  what  the  French 
historians  of  the  epoch  have  imputed  to  him,  that  he  laboured  for 
the  substitution  of  the  then  Duke  of  Orleans.  He  wished,  he  says, 
only  that  the  nation  should  be  left  free  to  choose  its  king ;  free  not 
only  from  foreign  influence,  but  even  from  legislative  nomination. 
So  far  was  he,  it  seems,  from  offering  a  new  candidate  for  royalty, 
that  an  interrupter  asked  M.  Dupin  "Why  he  did  not  propose  a 
republic?"  To  which  the  wit,  with  his  habitual  promptitude, 
responded,  by  a  line  of  Corneille : — 

"Le  pire  des  Etdts  est  I'Etdt  populaiye.'"* 

An  axiom,  adds  the  author,  since  abundantly  verified ; — referring,  no 
doubt,  to  1S48.  And  yet  he  took  an  active  part,  and  even  an  office 
in  this  popular  government.  Dut  he  did  it,  we  should  remember,  in 
his  professional  capacity,  and  as  an  advocate  who  undertakes  a  bad 
cause  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

.  The  same  event  of  the  return  of  Napoleon  from  Elba,  which  gave 
commencement  to  the  parliamentary  career  of  M.  Dupin,  produced 
him  also  some  of  the  most  glorious  of  his  professional  clients.  It 
is  known  that  several  generals  of  the  Empire,  who  had  retained 
ofiice  on  the  first  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  r^nd  had  broken  faith 
to  join  Napoleon  upon  his  landing  upon  French  soil,  were  excluded, 
by  the  final  restoration,  from  the  general  amnesty  which  had  been 
stipulated  by  the  army  and  the  city  of  Paris  Avith  the  Allies,  whose 
obligations  were  of  course  imperative  upon  the  princes  they  placed 
in  power.  Nevertheless,  one  of  the  first  measures  of  the  reaction 
was  an  ordinance  directing  the  arrest  and  the  trial  by  councils  of 
war  of  all  the  generals  placed  in  the  circumstances  stated.  All  of 
them  who  did  not  take  to  exile,  were  tried  accordingly  and  punished, 
"  Democracy  is  the  worst  of  governments. 


JS56.]  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  39 

some  by  imprisonment,  and  one,  the  greatest,  the  gallant  Ney,  by 
execution. 

Most  of  these  illustrious  "traitors"  were  defended  successively 
by  M.  Dupin.  This  signal  fortune  he  did  not  owe,  however,  to  pro- 
fessional celebrity,  being  still  but  a  young  lawyer  of  thirty-three 
years  of  age,  and  not  even,  we  have  seen,  a  Bonapartist  politically. 
Jlut  he  had  the  courage  and  the  talent  to  attack  the  ordinance  of 
proscription  as  a  jsriolation  of  the  capitulation  of  Paris.  Though 
this  was  done  in  the  shape  of  a  Memoire  presented  to  the  ministry, 
and  published  only  some  years  later  in  full,  yet  the  journals  of  the 
day  somehow  obtained  extracts  and  analyses  which  gave  publicity 
to  its  merits  and  illustrious  clientage  to  its  author.  In  the  incipient 
case,  however,  he  was  assistant- barrister,  not  leading  advocate. 

This  case  first  in  order,  as  in  eminence,  was  that  of  the  "  bravest 
of  the  brave."  We  do  not  notice  in  the  Memoirs  any  new  disclosures 
on  the  trial  of  Ney  which  would  be  popularly  interesting  to  our 
readers.  The  thirty  pages  given  to  the  subject  are  mostly  filled  up 
with  legal  logic,  arguing  over  the  defeated  case  and  discharging  sar- 
casms at  a  dead  dynasty.  The  writer  has  too  much  the  air  of  the 
pensioner  in  Goldsmith,  who — 

"Shouldered  his  crutch,  and  showed  how  fields  were  won." 

Only  that  M.  Dupin  has  had  to  show,  not  how  his  field  was 
won,  but  how  it  ought  to  have  been  won  if  his  arguments  had 
received  fair  play.  The  demonstration  was  quite  superfluous, 
more  especially  in  France.  The  flat  infraction  of  the  treaty  is 
known  or  evident  in  every  country.  The  terms  of  the  amnesty 
embraced  in  fact  all  persons  "  whatsoever  may  have  been  their  pol- 
itics, their  functions,  and  their  conduct.^'  The  trials  in  question 
were  in  most  flagrant  contradiction  of  this  stipulation.  All  these 
details  of  the  acuteness  and  erudition  of  the  writer  were  therefore 
valueless,  unless  to  glorify  the  subaltern  advocate.  So  unscrupu- 
lously greedy  is  he,  in  fact,  of  every  rag  of  praise,  that  he  strips 
the  memory  of  his  noble  client  of  the  famous  protest  upon  his  trial 
which  won  such  intellectual  honour  to  the  hero. 

The  defence  proposing  naturally  to  allege  as  quite  conclusive  the 
above  clause  of  the  Convention  of  Paris,  the  reading  was  ruled  out 
by  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  which  was  the  court  by  wiiich  the  marshal, 
as  peer,  insisted  on  being  tried.  The  objection,  which  was  technical, 
and  pitifully  tcclmical,  was  instantly  refuted  by  some  noble  members 
of  the  Chamber ;  but  it  was  carried  by  a  confused  vote  cf  the  base 
body.  This  proceeding,  which  took  place  in  the  momentary  absence 
of  both  the  prisoner  and  his  counsel  from  the  Chamber,  threw  the 


40  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

latter,  on  being  informed  of  it,  into  legal  consternation,  as  it  showed 
the  court  determined  to  have  its  victim.  On  reappearing  before  the 
House,  they  however  offered  to  read  the  article.  But  being  forbid- 
den by  the  president,  who,  in  a  word  of  explanation,  made  an  allu- 
sion to  the  character  of  Frenchmen,  Ney  himself  arose,  and  said  in 
a  firm  voice :  "  Yes,  I  am  a  Frenchman,  and  I  will  die  a  French- 
man." He  then  read  with  the  same  firmness  and  dignity  the  fol- 
lowing protest :  "  Hitherto  my  defence  has  appeared  to  be  free ;  but 
I  perceive  that  it  is  obstructed  at  this  moment.  I  thank  my  gener- 
ous defenders  for  what  they  have  done,  and  for  what  they  arc  still 
ready  to  do ;  but  1  prefer  not  to  be  defended  at  all  than  to  have  but 
the  semblance  of  a  defence.  What!  I  am  accused  in  contravention 
of  the  faith  of  treaties,  and  I  am  not  allowed  to  put  those  treaties 
in  evidence !     I  appeal  upon  it  to  Europe  and  to  posterity '. " 

In  this  apostrophe,  to  which  the  position  and  circumstances  of 
the  speaker  gave  an  immense  eclut  at  the  moment,  and  a  still  sub- 
sisting interest,  the  Memoirs  tell  us  that  we  arc  to  recognise  the 
"thunder"'  of  Dupin.  He  even  apprizes  us  that  it  was  written  by 
him  at  the  spur  of  the  moment  and  amid  the  consternation,  above 
alluded  to,  of  the  recess — comprising  also,  of  course,  the  self-applied 
encomium  on  the  "  generous  "  advocates.  The  marshal  merely  copied 
it  that  he  might  read  with  more  facility,  and  M.  Dupin  preserved 
this  copy,  of  which  he  gives  us  a  fac-similc.  He  even  took  care, 
he  owns,  to  have  the  original  of  these  few  lines  asked  back  from 
Ney,  who  had  already  very  naturally  thrown  it  in  the  fire.  For  M. 
Dupin  would  not  defraud  posterity  of  a  single  line  of  his  com- 
position. 

What  is  somewhat  more  important  than  these  puerilities  of  senile 
vanity,  the  author  rectifies,  on  this  occasion,  a  long-accredited  his- 
torical error.  It  has  been  generally  said  that  Ney,  through  an 
indignant  patriotism,  refused  at  first  to  be  defended  by  the  stipula- 
tions of  the  treaty  of  Paris.  ]\I.  Dupin  evinces  clearly  that  this 
chivalrous  su?ce|)tibility  was  a  poetical  embellishment  of  the  histo- 
rians. Among  other  decisive  evidences,  he  refers  to  the  three  notes, 
of  which  the  first  had  been  addressed  by  Ney  himself  to  the  allied 
ambassadors,  and  the  two  others  by  his  leading  advocate  and  by  his 
wife,  in  succession,  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  alone,  to  claim  the 
benefit  of  this  treaty.  But  Wellington,  who  had  the  soul  as  well  as 
the  intellect  of  a  drill-sergeant,  was  deaf  at  once  to  justice  and  to 
generosity.  M.  Dupin,  hos^■evc^,  thinks  he  was  so  from  a  very  cal- 
culating and  national  motive.  He  permitted  the  convention  to  be 
violated  in  the  case  of  iS'ey,  that  he  might  after  have  a  pretext  to 
pass  himself  through  the  open  breach,  and  plunder  Paris  of  the 


1656.]  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  41 

monuments  ^Yllich  were  protected  by  the  same  treaty.     Napoleon 
inade  the  same  accusation  in  a  codocil  to  his  last  will. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  personally  party  to  a  case  in  which 
J)upin  was  the  opposing  counsel  for  the  defence.  It  was  the  ludi- 
crously fauious  trial  of  Cantillon  and  Martinet,  for  an  attempted 
a.<s-.i.-^  si  nation  of  the  British  general  in  Paris.  The  attempt,  which 
cvnsisted  merely  in  the  firing  of  a  pistol  near  the  carriage  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  as  he  returned  to  his  hotel,  was  believed,  or  at 
ica.st  treated  at  the  time,  as  having  little  existence  except  in  imagina- 
tion. The  court  report  of  one  of  the  journals  was  headed  constantly  as 
follows :— "  The  pistol-shot  fired  with  or  without  a  hall,  at  or  near 
the  carriage  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington."  In  fact,  the  bullet  or  its 
mark  could  be  nowhere  traced  upon  the  equipage,  to  prove  the  mere 
corpus  delicti.  IS' or  was  there  a  trace  of  evidence  to  implicate  the 
4)risoners,  who  were  accordingly  acquitted  with  applause.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  animus  of  Paris,  at  that  moment,  against  the  gen- 
cral-in-chief  of  the  allied  forces  of  invasion,  was  such  as  well  might 
cause  the  apprehensions  even  of  a  soldier  to  pass  for  realities.  This 
Fpirit  found  expression  in  Dupin  upon  the  trial.  "  I  do  not  speak," 
said  the  caustic  advocate,  "  of  the  good  faith  of  the  noble  duke.  I 
examine  not  liis  manner  of  observing  capitulations,"  &.C.  In  fine 
>iapoleon  himself  betrayed  this  animus,  in  his  distant  exile  of  St. 
Helena,  by  bequeathing  to  the  accused  Cantillon  the  sum  of  ten 
thousand  francs.  .  . 

M'.  Dupin  has  some  redeeming  reminiscences  of  the  English. 
He  entitles  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  trials,  "  The  Three 
Knglishmen ;"  and  they  well  deserved  the  honour  he  accords  them. 
The  escape  from  a  capital  prison  of  the  Marquis  de  Lavalette,  by 
the  contrivance  and  substitution  of  his  beautiful  and  high-souled 
wife,*  is  known  even  popularly  all  the  Avorld  over.  But  it  is  not 
perliaps  known  so  generally,  that  its  ultimate  success  was  solely 
duo  to  three  Englishmen  then  staying  at  Paris.  Lavalette,  after 
quitting  prison,  had  to  take  refuge  in  the  city,  it  being  impossible 
to  brave  the  vigilance  of  the  Barricres.  Amid  this  vigilance,  still 
further  sharpened  by  the  announcement  of  the  escape,  and  amid  the 
iiitcruul  exploration  of  the  city  by  the  police,  Lavalette  was  kept  in 
hopeless  trembling  to  his  hiding  place  for  weeks,  when  an  appeal 
A\a3  made  on  his  behalf  to  a  ISritish  ofiicer  named  Bruce.  The 
proposition  was  conveyed  in  an  anonymous  note  as  follows :  "  Sir, 

"-  This  celebrated  vromau  diod  snmo  -svccks  ago  in  Pari?.  After  the  shock  in- 
Ciot*J  on  her  delicate,  altlioujrh  heroic  organization,  by  tho  condcuinatiou  to  death 
of  her  husband,  and  the  reaction  of  his  release  by  her,  she  continued  in  a  state 
of  mental  imbecility.     She  was  a  niece  of  the  Empress  Josephine. 

FovuTii  Series,  Vol.  YIII.— 3 


42  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

I  have  so  much  confidence  in  your  honour  that  I  will  impart  to  you 
a  secret  -which  I  could  reveal  but  to  you.  M.  de  Lavalette  is  still 
•in  Paris  ;  I  place  his  life  in  your  hands ;  you  alone  can  save  him." 

Bruce  was  still  in  bed.  He  wondered  and  pondered,  and  at 
length  replied  to  the  bearer  that  he  could  not  give  an  answer  then, 
but  if  the  writer  would  choose  to  meet  him  at  a  place  and  moment 
designated,  he  would  give  him  his  reflections  on  the  subject.  The 
interview  took  place  at  noon  ;  Bruce  promised  ta  do  his  best ;  but 
he  declined  to  be  informed  either  of  the  name  of  the  person  who 
wrote  him  or  of  the  hiding-place  of  Lavalette  himself.  This  cool 
and  cautious  conduct  would,  independently  of  the  name,  announce 
infallibly  that  Bruce  was  born  beyond  the  Tweed.  Proceeding 
■with  the  same  prudent  calculation  to  plan  the  rescue,  he  united 
with -him  two  of  his  confidential  comrades  at  Paris,  namely  Major- 
General  Wilson,  whose  name  stamps  him  as  English,  and  Captain 
Hely  Hutchinson,  who  as  assuredly  was  Irish.  Thus  the  three 
members  of  the  British  Union  were  represented  in  this  noble 
action,  although  our  author  makes  them  all  English  indiscrimin- 
ately. This,  it  may  be  noted,  is  a  general  usage  of  the  French,  who 
confound  the  three  nations  in  their  grotesque  notion  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  ;  yet  certainly  the  French  themselves  do  not  so  widely 
differ  from  the  Irish,  as  the  Irish  do  from  the  English,  and  the 
Scotch  do  from  both.  This  latter  difference,  however,  was  seized 
sagaciously  or  fortunately,  by  the  mystic  friend  of  Lavalette,  in  first 
addressing  himself  to  Bruce.  Had  he  commenced  with  making  the 
proposal  to  the  Irishman  especially,  the  issue  of  the  effort  vrould 
have  probably  been  different.  As  planned  by  Bruce,  it  proved 
completely  successful ;  and,  what  is  equally  characteristic,  while 
the  perilous  execution  of  smuggling  Lavalette  in  open  day,  not 
merely  out  of  Paris,  but  afterward,  through  a  score  of  police  stations 
on  the  way  to  the  German  frontier,  was  committed  to  the  Englishman 
and  to  the  Irishman,  the  "  canny  Scot,"  on  certain  plausible  pre- 
tences, stayed  in  Paris.  Thus  the  characters  kept  their  ])lace3  to 
the  last,  qiialis  ah  incepto.  They  joined,  however,  on  being  prose- 
cuted, in  a  common  defence,  and  retained  M.  Dupin  as  their  col- 
lective and  only  advocate.  He  brought  them  off  triumphantly,  in  a 
trial,  which  he  takes  care  to  tell  us,  was,  for  the  eclat  and  the  audi- 
tory, without  rival  at  the  Paris  bar. 

The  other  generals  or  marshals  on  the  same  proscription  list  as 
Ney  and  Lavalette,  and  who  figured  among  the  clients  of  M.  Dupin, 
■were  as  follows :  Marshals  Moncey,  Brune,  the  ilarshals  of  France 
collectively  in  defence  of  their  imperial  titles ;  Generals  Travot, 
Allix,  Caulaincourt,  HuUin,   Parct  de    Morvan,  and   Lieutenant- 


J  856.]  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  48 

General  Gilly.  The  Memoirs  offer  little  respecting  any  of  these 
trials  that  would  be  of  interest  to  American  readers.  There  is, 
however,  in  connexion  with  the  last  of  these  brave  unfortunates,  an 
anecdote  that  thrills  the  heart,  and  paints  the  peasantry  of  France, 
in  their  imperialist  fidelity,  amid  the  flush  of  the  Restoration. 

M.  Dupin  tells  us  that  General  Gilly,  although  a  Catholic  himself, 
"knowin;;  the  humanity  of  the  Protestants,"  sought  an  asylum 
among  them.  He  was  received  by  a  peasant  of  the  commune  of 
Anduze  named  Perrier,  who  had  no  other  means  of  living  than  his 
dail}'  labour.  It  was  concerted  that  the  general,  whose  n:ime  even 
was  not  asked,  and  of  whom  the  family  knew  nothing  but  his  peril 
and  his  misfortunes,  should  be  disguised  in  peasant's  garb  and  pass 
for  a  cousin  of  the  cotter. 

After  several  months  spent  in  this  retreat,  which  was  not  only 
poor,  but  perilous  on  account  of  the  patrols  which  scoured  the  coun- 
try by  night  and  m.ade  explorator}'  visits  to  the  dwellings,  especially 
of  the  Protestants,  the  general  got  tired  of  life,  and  often  murmured  at 
his  lot.  One  day  Perrier,  returning  from  the  village  of  Anduze,  under- 
took to  console  his  guest  and  to  cheer  his  spirits  :  "  You  complain," 
paid  he  to  the  general,  "  but  you  are  happy  in  comparison  with  those 
poor  men  whose  heads  Ihave  heard  cried  this  morning  like  meat  in  a 
market.  For  M.  Briere,  one  of  our  ministers,  a  reward  of  two  thou- 
Eand  francs;  for  M.  Press,  an  ex-mayor,  two  thousand  four  hundred 
francs ;  for  General  Gilly,  ten  thousand  francs."  "  What !"  replied 
the  startled  general,  with  anxiety.  "  Why,  certainly,"  rejoined  the 
peasant. 

"  Wc  may  judae,"  continues  M.  Dupin,  "of  the  position  of  the  general  1 
However,  he  endeavoured  to  disguise  his  emotion ;  and  to  beguile  the  poor 
Perrier,  whose  fidelity  he  had  the  injustice  to  suspi^ct,  he  assumed  the  air 
of  reflecting  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  '  I  am  tired  of  the  Hfe  I  lead  ;  I 
wish  to  be  done  with  it.  You  yourself  are  poor,  and  you  must  desire  to 
e;irn  money.  I  know  General  Gilly,  and  where  he  is  concealed;  let  us  go 
arul  dt-nnunce  him.  For  reward  I  will  ask  my  liberty,  and  you  will  have  to 
>o-,ir-;rlf  th(i  ten  thousand  francs." 

**  At  these  words  Perrier  seemed  as  if  thunderstruck  and  speechless.  But  all 
of  a  sudden,  his  eldest  son,  a  young  man  of  twenty-seven  yeai"S,  who  had  served 
in  tho  4:tU  regiment  of  the  line,  and  wlio  had  hitherto  li.-tened  quietly  to  the 
conversation,  seated  by  the  fire,  started  up  j)recipitately,  and  said  to  the  gen- 
eral with  threatening  voice,  and  in  language  of  which  decency  requires  to 
mitigate  the  ru.nic  energy:  'Monsieur,  hitherto  we  thought  that  you  were  an 
Ljncst  man  ;  but  since  you  arc  one  of  those  contemptible  spies  who  sell  the 
life  nf  their  neighbour,  you  see  that  door  :  get  oil"  at  once  or  I  will  tling  you 
fit  instintly  at  tlie  window.'  General  Gilly  remonstrated  against  leaving, 
he  m.M^ted  ;  he  wi^lll•d  to  e.\plain  his  intentions;  but  the  soldier,  instead  of 
entering  on  explanations,  seized  the  general  with  a  vigorous  arm  and  prepared 
to  execute  his  threats.  Tlien  the  c:eneral.  seeing  the  ur<rency  of  the  danger, 
exclaimed,  '  Well,  I  myself  am  General  Gilly  !* 


44  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

"  It  would  be  vain  to  trj'  to  paint  the  transports  which  these  words  excited 
in  the  whole  family.  Tlie  soldier  leaped  upon  the  neck  of  the  general  to  cm- 
brace  him ;  the  fatlicr,  the  mother,  the  youngest  of  the  children,  clung  around 
him  to  kiss  his  hands  and  his  clothes.  It  is  needless  to  add,  they  vowed  to 
him  that  he  might  stay  with  them  securely,  and  that  they  would  all  of  them 
sulicr  death  rather  than  reveal  the  secret. 

"  The  general  remained  for  some  time  after  with  these  brave  people.  And 
■what  should  be  further  noted  to  their  praise,  he  found  it  quite  impossible  on 
leaving  them  to  get  them  to  accept  the  least  iudcnmity  for  either  the  trouble 
or  the  expense  which  he  had  cost  them.  It  was  only  a  long  time  after  that  he 
succeeded  in  persuading  them  to  profit,  in  another  form,  by  his  influence." 

The  Memoirs  record  a  number  of  other  clients  no  less  conspicu- 
ous— ex-ministers  such  as  Carnot ;  dukes  as  those  of  llovigo,  of  Vin- 
cennes;  poets  like  Beranger;  priests  like  the  Abbe  de  Pradt; 
professors,  journalists,  princes,  and  in  fine,  kings. 

Among  the  priests  we  may  note,  as  an  example  of  the  times,  the 
affair  of  one  llebecqui,  who,  to  legitimate  his  offspring  begotten  in 
defiance  of  his  priestly  vows  before  the  Revolution,  availed  himself 
of  the  permission  allowed  the  clergy  by  this  new  era,  to  enter  into 
the  state  of  matrimony,  deemed  2^/«holy  in  the  priests  alone.  The 
objection  to  the  validity  of  this  retroactive  legitimation  was  the  old 
rule  that  it  could  apply  only  to  parties  free  from  other  obligations  at 
the  time  of  the  conception,  or  ex  soluto  et  soluta.  M.  Pupin  attacked 
not  only  the  objection  but  the  axiom.  He  argued  that  in  the  case 
on  which  it  principally  rests,  that  of  offspring  begotten  in  adultery, 
the  legitimation  is  debarred,  not  by  the  f;ict  of  the  existence  of  a 
repugnant  obligation  in  one  of  the  parents  at  the  time,  but  by  an 
act  of  legislation  that  forbids  perpetually  the  marriage,  and  thus 
precludes  the  normal  means  of  the  legitimation.  Even  in  the  case 
of  incestuous  children,  the  obstruction  is  the  same ;  they  cannot  be 
legitimated;  not  because  the  parents  are  too  near  of  kin,  but 
because  the  law,  for  prudent  reasons,  forbids  the  necessary  means — 
a  marriage.  But  the  law  has  equally  the  power,  continued  M.  Du- 
pin, to  remove  this  prohibition  of  its  own  making,  and  much  more 
clearly  than  individuals,  such  as  the  popes,  who  have  often  ex- 
ercised it,  in  the  shape  of  dispensations  even  to  priests.  Now  a 
legal  and  universal  dispensation  of  the  clergy  had  been  promul- 
gated by  the  legislative  body  of  the  Revolution.  The  subsequent 
marriage  of  the  priest  Rebecqui  had  been  consequently  authorized. 
It  therefore  purged  the  stain  of  bastardy  from  the  children. 

The  distinction  in  the  old  law  maxim  is  remarkably  shrewd  and 
sound,  and  the  deduction  from  the  legal  premises  is  manifestly 
cogent.  But  the  advocate,  it  seems  to  us,  slid  out  of  view  the  con- 
sideration that  the  obstruction  which  affected  priests  before  the 
marriage-law,  and  even  after,  was  of  a  nature  rather  religious  than 


jef)6,3  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  45 

legal,  like  those  compared  with  it,  and  had  accordingly  its  origin  in 
the  Canon  law,  or  in  mere  Church  discipline.  M.  Dupin,  however, 
gained  his  cause,  and  this,  he  docs  not  fail  to  tell  us,  (of  course  from 
candid  admiration,  not  a  calculation  of  vain-glory,)  notwithstanding 
th:it  hi?  opponent  was  the  "  most  finished  dialectician  that  he  ever 
eincc  encountered"  in  his  long  practice.  But  the  tribunal  was  of 
the  imperial  date  of  1S09;  had  it  been  a  few  years  later,  no  doubt 
tl>c  issue  would  have  been  different.  In  fact,  another  case  of  the 
same  nature,  (which  follows  next  in  the  Memoirs,)  save  that  the 
priest  had  here  the  children  after  marriage  instead  of  before,  was 
decided,  in  IS'24,  against  the  validity  of  the  marriage;  but  this 
decision,  through  the  irresistible  intervention  of  M.  Dupin,  was 
overruled  on  the  second  trial  by  a  higher  court. 

We  pass  over  the  other  categories  to  reserve  the  remaining  space 
for  Pome  curious  incidents  of  the  kingly  clientship  of  Louis  Philippe. 
We  cannot,  however,  pass  unnoticed  a  case  more  curious  and 
romantic ;  the  more  especially  as  it  serves  as  a  fitting  introduction 
to  that  royal  personage. 

The  subject  was  the  notorious  intrigante,  Maria  Stella,  alias  Lady 
Ncwborough,  alias  Baroness  de  Sternberg,  who  amused  the  lovers 
of  the  marvellous  and  the  scandalous  in  Europe  from  1S25  to 
1830.  This  woman  began  life  as  a  singer  on  the  stage,  whence 
Bhe  was  taken  into  wedlock  by  Lord  Newborough;  for  British 
noblemen  had,  until  recently,  like  our  American  aristocracy,  a 
strange  alacrity  to  bite  the  hook  of  the  battered  votaries  of  Cal- 
liope. Maria  Stella,  in  a  second  marriage,  caught  again  a  noble 
gudgeon,  in  the  shape  of  the  Baron  de  Sternberg,  a  Russian— a 
nation  touching  on  the  same  predicament  in  point  of  cash  and  cul- 
tivation. Encouraged  probably  by  these  successes  to  aspire  at  least 
to  French  royalty,  and  having  failed  perhaps  to  catch  a  duke  or 
even  *'  count "  of  that  less  verdant  i 
a  different  and  a  more  daring  plan. 

It  was  no  less  than  to  pretend  that  she  was  daughter  of  the 
Duchess  of  Chartrcs  and  of  Philippe  Egalite,  Duke  of  Orleans ; 
that  on  her  birth,  which  took  place  in  Tuscany,  during  a  tour  of  her 
alleged  parents  under  the  names  of  the  Count  and  Countess  de  Join- 
ville,  she  had  been  exchanged  by  the  prince  her  father,  who  had  no 
sons  and  desired  an  heir,  for  the  male  infant  of  Lorenzo  Chiappini, 
turnkey  of  the  village  prison,  whose  wife  was  delivered  at  the  same 
time  as  the  duclioss ;  and  that  in  fine  the  substitution  had  been 
made  known  to  her  by  "  revelations,"  as  she  was  travelling  with  her 
second  husband  in  Italy. 

The  direct  result  of  the  pretension  was  to  proclaim  that  Louis 


46  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

Philippe,  tlien  Duke  of  Orleans,  was  the  low-born  son  of  a  concierge. 
The  thing  vuis  couutenanccd,  if  not  concocted,  by  the  court  party  of 
the  day,  who  were  at  dagj:;ers  with  the  wily  duke,  then  undermining 
his  Bourbon  cousins.  It  must  be  owned,  too,  there  was  something 
tending  to  encourage  the  imposture  in  both  the  character  and  the 
exterior  of  the  subsequently  citizen-king.  The  gait  and  counte- 
nance of  Louis  Philippe  were  as  far  as  possible  from  royalty,  and 
the  craftiness  of  his  government  and  the  cowardice  of  his  fall  were 
less  in  character  with  the  descendant  of  a  line  of  kings  than  of  a 
concierge.  On  the  other  hand,  the  retired  singer  pretended  to  a 
'  striking  likeness  with  the  Count  de  Beaujolais  and  Madame  Ade- 
laide of  Orleans.  However,  Maria  Stella  had  to  find  for  the  law 
some  surer  evidence  than  either  party  predispositions  or  personal 
appearance. 

She  returned  then  to  Italy,  and  laid  her  case,  as  above  stated,  be- 
fore the  ecclesiastical  tribunal  of  an  obscure  town  of  the  Papal  state. 
Her  claim,  being  legally  unopposed,  was  recorded  without  difficulty, 
her  certificate  of  birth  and  baptism  were  rectified  as  she  demanded, 
and  she  herself  was  declared  "  daughter  of  the  Count  and  Countess 
de  Joinville,  French."  Here  then  was  a  documentary  foundation 
for  her  pretension.  She  transmitted  it  forthwith  to  an  accomplice 
of  hers  in  Paris,  who  entitled  himself  the  Chevalier  iMortara,  direct- 
ing tiiat  it  should  be  laid  at  the  feet  of  His  Majesty  Louis  XYIIL, 
and  praying  his  majesty  that  Maria  Stella  be  declared  a  princess  of 
the  house  of  Orleans. 

Some  scruples,  or  rather  fears,  being  however  still  named  by  the 
court  party,  the  chevalier  consulted  a  lawyer.  The  man  of  law  told 
him  that,  assuming  the  certificate  to  have  been  genuine,  it  was  aU 
very  well  as  far  as  it  went.  The  Baroness  de  Sternberg  was  verily 
declared  the  daughter  of  a  count  and  a  countess  de  Joinville ;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  evince  the  identity  of  this  Count  de  Joinville 
with  Louis  Philippe  (Egalite)  of  Orleans. 

In  addition  to  this  legal  stumbUng  block,  the  Baroness  do  Stern- 
berg was  thwarted  still  more  seriously  at  the  same  moment  from 
•another  quarter.  Her  brother,  Thomas  Chiappini,  appeared  against 
ber  in  the  newspapers,  provoked  no  doubt  by  instigation  of,  or  ex- 
pectation from,  Louis  Philippe.  He  ridiculed  and  refuted  her  aspira- 
tions to  nobility,  insisted  that  she  Avas  his  sister,  affirmed  that  she 
claimed  as  such  a  part  in  the  succession  of  their  common  father, 
and  this,  too,  after  the  time  when  she  pretended  to  have  got  the 
letter  that  revealed  to  her  the  royalty  of  her  birth;  and  finally,  as 
to  her  likeness  to  the  family  of  Orleans,  he  declared  that  of  all  the 
diildren  of  Chiappini,  she  most  resembled  the  concierge. 


Ig56j  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  47 

To  make  sure,  however,  of  his  ground,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  put 
the  matter  into  the  hands  of  M.  Dupin.  akeady  a  member  of  his 
council.  The  learned  jurist  made  a  refutatory  report  on  the  case,  of 
the  merits  of  ^Yhich  he  gives  us  an  expose  in  the  Memoirs ;  but  in 
conclusion  ho  advised  his  princely  client  to  keep  quiet  until  the  Bar- 
oness dc  Sternberg  should  proceed  further.  As  was  the  hope,  no 
doubt,  she  did  not  proceed  further  for  some  five  years.  But  at  the 
b<-L:lnning  of  1S30,  Maria  Stella  reappeared  in  a  volume  bearing  the 
followinf' captivating  title :  "Maria  Stella,  or  the  Criminal  Sub- 
stitution of  a  Young  Lady  of  the  Highest  Rank  for  a  Boy  of  the 
most  Al'ject  Condition^  The  title-page  announced  besides :  '■  Sold 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  in  Paris  and  the  Departments,  at  the  prin- 
cipal booksellers."  This  was  followed  by  a  portrait,  attempting  a 
resemblance  to  the  Princess  Adelaide  of  Orleans ;  and  underneath 
was  read :  "  Maria  Stella,  Lady  Newborough,  Baroness  Sternberg, 
nde  de  Joinville.'" 

'J'he  volume  thus  put  forth  in  the  most  finished  claptrap  fashion, 
could  not  fail,  even  in  France,  to  have  a  great  succes  dc  curzosite. 
But  party  interests  moreover  were  concerned  in  the  circulation. 
And  the  newspapers,  the  natural  organs  and  habitual  instru- 
ments of  both  those  influences,  gave  it  the  eclat  which  they  would 
deny,  no  doubt  through  ignorance,  to  books  of  merit.  The  public 
feelings  thus  excited,  Maria  Stella  laid,  in  form,  a  requisition  before 
the  court  of  first  resort  of  the  Seine.  The  time  was  come,  then, 
for  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  his  attorney  to  defend  themselves. 

Two  courses  of  procedure  were  before  them.  The  Duke  of  Or- 
leans wished  himself,  or  perhaps  only  feigned  to  wish,  to  address 
himself  directly  to  the  crown  and  the  chamber  of  peers,  for  the  po- 
litical suppression  of  a  case  affecting  the  position  and  the  honour 
of  a  peer  of  France,  the  first  prince  of  the  blood,  and  even  an  heir 
eventual  to  the  throne ;  the  other  was  the  legal  course  of  going  be- 
fore the  civil  tribunal.  The  latter  was  the  one  adopted,  M.  Dupin 
doos  not  say  why  ;  but  no  doubt  the  reason  was  the  known  feelings 
of  the  Bourbons  in  the  premises.  The  civil  court,  however,  dismissed 
the  case,  though  upon  technical  objections.  And  thus  was  ter- 
minated a  proceeding,  which,  for  boldness  of  conception  and  plausi- 
bility of  prosecution,  transcends  the  license  of  romance. 

We  can  afford  to  add  but  little  on  the  large  portion  of  the  Me- 
moirs, which  are  devoted  to  the  private  business  of  Louis  Philippe 
become  king — afT;iirs  in  which,  in  fact.  Dupin  has  figured  largely  in 
every  sense.  The  arithmetical  recollections  are  the  most  exact  and 
least  egotistical. 

Americans  have  often  heard  of  the  immense  wealth  of  Louis 


48  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

Philippe,  aud  that  his  father,  Philippe  Egalite,  while  the  most 
sans-culotte  of  democrats,  was  yet  the  richest  of  the  princes  of 
Europe;  but  they  do  not  understand,  perhaps,  the  source  of  this 
■wealth.  Exceeding  that  of  even  the  royal  branch  of  the  house 
of  Bourbon,  it  could  not  reasonably  be  supposed  to  have  been  given 
by  the  crown.  It  proceeded  in  fact  from  a  curious  concentration 
of  inheritances,  which,  together  with  the  unexpected  elevation  to 
the  throne,  might  have  well  persuaded  the  Orleans  family  of  their 
being  the  special  cave  of  fortune.  And  yet  the  luck-like  prepara- 
tion was  but  to  show  them  to  be  its  sport ! 

The  patrimonial  property  or  appanage  of  the  House  of  Orleans 
was  augmented  in  the  hands  of  the  father  of  Louis  Philippe  by  the 
estates :  1st,  of  the  Duchess  de  Guise ;  2d,  of  Mademoiselle  do 
Guise;  3d,  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier;  4th,  of  the  Duchess 
de  Bourbon — representing  three  of  the  most  powerful  families  of 
the  kingdom.  On  the  other  side,  the  wife  of  the  same  Philippe  of 
Orleans  was  only  daughter  of  the  great  Duke  of  Pcnthievre,  and 
was  through  him  the  heiress  of  the  following  inheritances  :  1st,  of 
the  Duke  and  the  Duchess  of  Maine ;  2d,  of  the  Count  and  the 
Countess  of  Toulouse ;  3d,  of  the  Prince  de  Dombes ;  4th,  of  the 
Count  d'Eu ;  5th,  of  the  Prince  de  Lamballe — all  of  these  being 
princely  branches  of  the  royal  family  of  France,  and  two  or  three 
of  them  even  legitimated  sons  of  Louis  XIV.  Such  then  were 
the  separate  portions  of  the  parents  of  Louis  Philippe,  which  de- 
volved jointly  to  liirasclf  and  to  his  sole  sister.  And  as  the  sister 
never  married,  her  part  continued  in  the  family  stock  ;  which  stock 
was  finally  piled  up  by  the  possessions  of  the  House  of  Conde, 
left  to  a  son  of  Louis  Philippe,  the  Duke  d'Aumale !  With  this 
enormous  accumulation  of  domains  and  principalities  in  the  pos- 
session of  a  single  family  aspiring  to  the  throne,  where  is  the  king- 
dom or  the  empire  that  could  mahitain  its  existence  ? 

It  should  be  said,  however,  that  this  vast  confluence  of  near  a 
dozen  princely  fortunes,  had  sufibrcJ  sorious  diminution  before 
reaching  the  family  of  Louis  Philippe.  The  Revolution  swept  it 
totally  away  for  a  time.  At  this  epoch,  the  purchase  value  of  the 
possessions  of  Philippe  Egaliti-  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  twelve 
millions,  and  the  annual  income  from  feudal  dues  was  no  less  than 
five  to  six  millions.  The  latter  item  was  abolished  beyond  recall. 
The  territorial  domains  also  had  been  confiscated  at  the  time,  and 
for  the  most  part  disposed  of  by  the  nation.  But  upon  the  Resto- 
ration in  1814,  the  unsold  portion  was  returned  to  the  heirs.  The 
value  of  this  residue  was,  M.  Dupin  says,  less  than  twelve  millions. 
Along  with  it  was  entailed  also  on  Louis  Philippe  and  his  sister  the 


jg56.3  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  49" 

encumbrance  of  over  thirty  millions— the  unpaid  balance  of  their 
father  s  debts,  Avhich,  at  the  time  of  the  confiscation,  had  amounted 
to  no  less  than  seventy-four  millions.  His  vast  possessions  were 
thus  encumbered  to  more  than  half  their  value. 

Louis  riiilippe  mit^ht  have  declined  to  accept  this  inheritance  of 
twelve  millions,  Avith  an  encumbrance  of  thirty  millions,  -which  of 
course  rendered  it  insolvent.  But,  says  bis  advocate,  he  and  his 
gi.sicr  conceived  "  the  generous  design  of  paying  off  with  honour  all 
the  creditors.''  The  design  had  more  of  policy,  perhaps,  than  hon- 
our or  generosity.  Louis  Philippe  had  an  eye  already  upon  the 
throne  ;  and  he  well  knew  that  an  insolvent  debtor,  or  even  the  son 
of  the  insolvent  debtor,  was  held  more  infamous  in  Paris  than  a 
blasphemer  or  an  adulterer.  He  accepted  then  the  restitution,  but 
sous  benefice  d' invent  air  e  ;  that  is  to  say,  on  the  condition  of  being 
responsible  to  the  creditors  but  for  the  sum  which  the  inheritance 
would  bring  at  public  auction  :  so  that  this  vras  quite  a  safe  sacrifice 
to  generosity  and  to  honour.  The  property  restored  was  accord- 
ingly put  up  for  sale,  and  bid  in  by  Louis  Philippe  himself  at  twelve 
and  a  half  millions.  This  was  at  once  applied  to  the  payment  of 
the  debts,  pro  rata.  The  poorer  were  paid  totally,  says  2>I.  Dupin ; 
remissions  of  interest  and  some  reductions  of  principal  Avere  ob- 
tained from  the  more  independent  creditors.  On  the  whole,  it  seems, 
all  ended  with  being  satisfied.  But  to  effect  this  consummation,  • 
besides  the  produce  of  the  public  sale,  Louis  Philippe  devoted 
yearly,  we  arc  told,  three  millions  from  his  own  appanage.  So  that 
besides  the  immense  patrimony  of  his  father  as  above  sketched,  it 
seems  this  personage  had  a  vast  appanage  in  his  own  right  as  prince 
of  the  blood ! 

There  results,  then,  for  the  basis  of  the  final  state  of  the  Orleans 
property  :  first,  this  appanage,  of  which  the  mere  income  could  afford 
annually  three  millions,  besides  the  regular  expenditures  of  a  prince ; 
second! ij,  the  vast  domains  of  the  re-purchase,  bought  for  twelve  mil- 
lif^ns ;  thirdly,  a  two-third  portion  of  the  vast  inheritance  of  his 
mother,  who  died  about  the  same  time,  bequeathing  Louis  Philippe 
and  his  sister  one-third  each  of  a  territorial  property  yielding  one 
and  a  half  millions  revenue,  and  valued  in  1S21  at  over  si.xty  mil- 
lions ;  fonrthhj,  five  millions,  accorded  to  the  same  pair,  (whose 
portions  always  devolved  alike  to  the  common  family  fund,)  in 
virtue  of  the  law  of  indemnity  passed  in  1S25  in  behalf  of  those 
whoso  property  was  confiscated  by  the  Revolution.  It  is  further  to 
be  noted  that  these  enormous  properties  arc  all  rated  at  their  cur- 
rent value  some  thirty  years  ago ;  a  value  that  must  have  doubled  in 
this  rapidly  progressive  peiiod.     And  it  is  a  family  possessed  of 


50  Memoirs  of  Dupin.  [January, 

this  incalculable  mass  of  wealth  that  has  been  beggared  by  the  ten 
millions  of  it  sequestrated  by  Louis  Napoleon ! 

Moreover,  we  arc  persuaded  that  the  foregoing  summary  inventory 
is,  without  mentioning  the  civil  list  and  the  "  dotations,"  incom- 
plete. It  is,  in  large  part,  only  indirectly  that  we  have  been  able  to 
extract  those  results  from  the  tortuous  statements  of  the  advocate  in 
the  cause.  A  lawyer,  with  the  best  dispositions,  is  never  candid  or 
complete.  From  his  habits  of  one-sidedness,  he  can  present  the 
simplest  subject  only  in  section,  as  it  were,  and  never  in  its  full 
scheme.  But  the  dispositions  of  M.  Dupin  are,  besides,  avowedly 
apologetic.  He  carries  this,  indeed,  so  far  as  to  invoke  our  sym- 
pathies for  Louis  Philippe,  by  the  assurance  that  he  left  his  palace 
on  the  fatal  24th  of  February,  in  such  a  state  of  destitution,  that  by 
the  time  he  reached  Versailles  he  had  to  borroAV,  poor  man  !  the  sum 
of  three  thousand  francs  before  he  could  go  further ! 

M.  Dupin  parades  in  detail  the  expenditures  of  Louis  Philippe  on 
palaces — his  patronages,  pensions,  and  a  million  a  year  in  charity. 
It  is  true  he  has  no  documents  to  show  these  latter  forms  of  disburse- 
ment; but,  lawyer-like,  he  has  instead  of  them  a  pretext  for  their 
absence,  which,  for  the  rest,  is  very  probable  and  very  character- 
istic. It  is,  that  "  all  the  papers,  (according  to  the  Keport  of  a 
Committee  appointed  on  the  subject  by  the  Provisional  Government 
itself,)  all  the  registers  of  assistance,  all  that  could  reveal  the  boun- 
ties of  the  king  and  of  the  royal  family,  and  that  could  disclose  the 
names  of  the  obligees,  (turned  ingrates,)  were  burned  on  the  night 
of  the  24th  of  Februar}'-,  in  the  midst  of  the  disorder  that  prevailed 
at  the  Tuileries."  This  is  fortified  and  specialized  by  the  ex-trea- 
surer of  the  crown,  in  a  publication  which  he  made  upon  the  sack  of 
the  Tuileries.  "  I  remarked,"  says  he,  "  toward  midnight,  that  the 
flames  appeared  to  issue  from  the  spot  which  was  allotted  to  my 
department.  I  learned  the  next  morning  the  true  cause.  Fire  had 
been  set  on  purpose  to  four  apartments  underneath,  serving  as 
offices  for  the  section  of  the  cabinet  of  the  king  charged  with  the 
distribution  of  charity,  and  of  which  the  archives  which  certain 
persons  might  have  an  interest  in  destroying,  had  been  entirely 
consumed."  These  "  certain  persons  "  were  of  course  republicans, 
as   these  alone   attacked  the  palace. 

However,  we  are  quite  willing  to  give  Louis  Philippe  and  his  ad- 
vocate the  entire  benefit  of  the  destruction  of  their  proofs.  There 
is  no  doubt,  in  fact,  that  handsome  sums  were  thus  invested  by 
the  citizen  king :  the  only  question  would  relate  to  the  intention, 
•which  is  everything  in  judging  of  the  merits  of  the  indivi- 
dual, althourrh   in  estimating:  his  actions  we  should  observe  a  dif- 


1856.3  The  Eastern  War.  51 

ferent  rule.  However,  to  leave  our  readers  in  a  state  of  feeling  to 
decide  impartially,  we  close  with  quoting  the  peroration  of  Dupin's 
pecuniary  panegyric : — 

"  We  see  the  Duke  of  Orleans," says  he,  "though  receiving  but  the  meanrre 
wn^cks  of  his  patornal  property,  paying  ofl'  its  debt5  to  an  amount  beyond  the 
TAlue  of  the  principal.  As  appanagistic  prince,  he  improves  and  ornament?  the 
appanage  ;  improvements  which  must  turn  lo  tiie  profit  of  the  state.  As  Icing, 
ho  ii^os  lilce  a  king  his  civil  list — employing  a  million  a  year  in  acta  of  charily 
and  ;;cnerosity  ;  giving  work  in  all  directions  to  artisans  and  artists;  restoring 
at  great  expense  and  with  taste  thosa  royal  palaces  of  which  he  owned  him- 
self but  the  splendid  usufruct ;  augmenting,  at  an  expense  of  nine  millions, 
their  sumptuous  furniture  ;  and  above  all,  founding  at  Versailles  that  national 
museum,  devoted,  without  distinction  to  -all  the  glories  of  France."  In  fine, 
as  man  we  see  him  bear  adversity,  exile,  and  ruin,  wiih  the  grandeur  of  a 
royal  soul  and  the  resignation  of  a  Christian  (.')  ;  uttering  no  complaint,  nor 
mentioning  his  exile  but  merely  to  say, '  I  had  not  deserved  it.'" 

This  vindication  of  the  pelf  of  the  Orleanists  will  be  doubtless 
followed,  in  the  future  volumes  of  the  Memoirs,  by  a  vindication 
of  their  politics.  We  may  return  to  the  subject,  if  the  revelations 
should  deserve  it,  when  we  shall  also  treat  the  character  and 
famous  bons  rnots  of  Dupin. 


Art.  in.— the  EASTERN  WAE. 


^  Visit  to  the  Camp  before  Sevastopol.     By  Richard  C.  M'Cormick,  Jr.     New- 
York  :     I).  Appleton  &  Co.     1855.     12mo..  pp.  212. 

.  The  Unholy  Alliance  :  An  American  View  of  the  War  in  the  East.     By  "WnXLUi 
Giles  Dix.     "  Christo   et   Cruci."      New-York :    Charles   B.  Norton.     1855. 


12 


mo.,  pp.  2." 


3,  A  History  of  the  War  between  Turkey  and  Russia,  and  Russia  and  the  Allied 
Powers  of  England  and  France.  By  Geop.ge  Fowlijj.  London :  Sampson, 
liOw,  Son  &:  Co.     1855.     12mo.,  pp.  328. 

We  have  placed  these  works  at  the  head  of  this  paper  as  a  matter 
of  form,  rather  than  with  the  intention  of  subjecting  them  to  a  special 
review.  They  suggest  our  theme,  but  do  not  explore  the  ground  we 
design  to  examine.  The  first  is  a  narrative  of  observations  made  by 
the  author  during  a  six  weeks'  visit  to  the  camp  before  Sevastopol, 
and  a  brief  sojourn  at  Constantinople,  written  in  a  pleasant  and 
sprightly  style,  but  giving  very  little  information  beyond  what 
may  be  culled  from  the  newspaper  press.  The  second  is  a  declam- 
atory harangue,  without  solid  sense  or  argument,  upon  the  invinci- 
bility of  Russia,  and  the  folly  and  wickedness  of  the  aUiance  of 


52  '  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

England  and  France  for  the  protection  of  Turkey.  It  declares 
Sevastopol  to  be  impregnable,  and  predicts  the  conquest  of  Con- 
stantinople by  the  Russians,  and  the  total  defeat  and  ruin  of  the 
Allies  in  the  war.  Events  have  already  proved  the  declaration  false ; 
and  as  improbable,  -we  opine,  as  the  arrival  of  the  Greek  Calends  is 
the  fulfilment  of  the  prediction.  The  last  work  mentioned  above  we 
have  found  useful  in  the  preparation  of  this  paper.  It  is  an  eifort  to 
present,  in  a  concise  form,  the  various  events  of  the  war  up  to  the 
end  of  the  year  l^h\,  and  is  made  up  chiefl}'  of  public  documents, 
and  of  extracts  from  the  letters  of  the  war  correspondent  of  the 
London  Times. 

Though  the  remote  cause  of  the  present  war  must  be  sought 
far  back  amid  the  cherished  traditions  of  Russia,  and  in  the  policy 
which  for  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  has  given  tone  and  com- 
plexion to  her  councils,  yet  its  immediate  cause  was  apparently 
trivial  and  insignificant. 

At  Jerusalem  stand  certain  sanctuaries  and  chapels  on  spots 
embalmed  in  a  thousand  cherished  recollections.  Among  these  are 
the  localities  of  the  crucifixion,  resurrection,  and  ascension  of  our 
Lord,  and  particularly  the  shrine  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  a  splendid 
work  of  art,  built  by  the  Empress  Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantino. 
The  possession  of  these  places  has  always  been  coveted  by  Christians; 
and  from  the  earliest  ages  of  the  Church  they  have  been  accustomed 
to  visit  the  country  trodden  by  the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  and  especially 
the  city  where  he  died  for  the  redemption  of  the  world.  A  desire 
to  recover  these  "holy  places"  from  the  hands  of  the  followers  of 
Mohammed  gave  rise  to  the  Crusades  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  and  since 
that  period,  both  the  Greek  and  Latin  Christians  have  enjoyed  by 
treaty  stipulations,  certain  rights  of  visitation  and  worship  at  the 
shrines  erected  on  these  localities. 

In  the  year  1535  Francis  I.  was  recognised  as  the  protector  of 
the  Latin  Christians  ;  and  in  a  treaty  of  that  year,  made  with  Selim 
I.,  their  claim  to  the  "  holy  places  "  was  insisted  on  and  agreed  to. 
Two  hundred  years  later,  (1740,)  by  another  treaty  between  the 
same  nations,  this  claim  was  admitted  and  confirmed.  The  Greek 
Christians  possessed  the  exclusive  claim  to  some  sanctuaries,  and 
also  insisted  upon  a  joint  occupancy  of  some  of  those  most  prized  by 
the  Latins.  As  the  treaties  to  which  vre  have  referred  did  not 
define  the  rights  of  the  parties,  disputes  frequently  arose,  and  the 
Latin  and  Greek  Christians  were  brought  into  collisions  resulting 
in  blood.shed  and  loss  of  life  within  the  edifices  so  much  revered  by 
both.  In  1757  open  war  existed  between  the  rival  Churches  in 
Palestine.     In  ISOS  tlie  Holy  Sepulchre  was  partially  destroyed  by 


1856.3  T'Ac  Eastern  War.  53 

fire,  and  the  Greeks  obtained  a  firman  from  the  Sultan,  giving  them 
authority  to  repair  the  edifice.  After  its  restoration,  on  the 
authority  of  this  firmau  or  decree,  the  Greeks  assumed  additional 
ri'-hts  and  privileges,  ^vhich  led  to  fresh  dissentions  with  the  Latins, 
an^l  fuiallv  caused  such  scandal,  that,  in  1S19.  the  Russian  and 
French  goVernmcnts  interposed.  The  King  of  France  claimed  the 
riMit  to  protect  pilgrims  of  the  Romish  faith  by  virtue  of  the  title 
accorded  to  him  by  the  Pope  of  ''  Most  Christian  King  ;"  while  the 
Czar  of  Russia,  as  "  Patriarch  of  the  Greek  Church,"  a  title  which 
has  descended  to  him  from  Peter  the  Great,  claimed  the  right  to 
protect  pilgrims  of  the  Greek  Church.  In  order  the  better  to  adjust 
these  differences,  France  and  Russia  each  sent  an  envoy  to  Palestine ; 
but  the  Greek  Revolution  in  1S21  broke  off  the  negotiations,  and  no 
further  attention  seems  to  have  been  given  to  the  subject  by  France 
until  1S36.  In  that  year  the  Prince  de  Joinville  having  visited 
Jerusalem,  the  monks  of  the  Latin  faith  appealed  to  him,  and  solicited 
his  influence  in  procuring  the  restoration  of  the  "  keys  of  the  holy 
places,"'  of  which  the  Greek  monks  had  for  a  long  time  held  posses- 
sion. In  consequence  of  his  representations  to  his  father,  Louis 
Philippe,  the  F'rench  ambassador  at  the  Porte  was  instructed  to 
bring  the  matter  to  the  attention  of  the  Sultan,  who  issued  a 
firman  ordering  the  Greeks  to  surrender  the  keys  to  the  Latins  : 
but,  through  Russian  influence,  the  governor  of  Jerusalem  neglected 
to  obey  the  firman.  In  1847  fresh  complaint  was  made  by  the  Latin 
monks  through  the  French  ambassador.  The  cause  of  the  complaint 
was  a  trivial  one,  and  should  have  been  dealt  with,  we  think,  by  the 
police,  or  civil  magistrate,  rather  than  by  the  corps  diplomatique. 
A  silver  star,  which  was  suspended  on  the  spot  said  to  be  exactly 
that  of  the  Saviour's  birth  at  Bethlehem,  disappeared,  and  the  Latin 
monks,  through  the  French  ambassador,  accused  the  Greeks  of 
having  committed  this  sacrilegious  larceny. 

In  1S50  Lord  Stratford  de  Redcliffe,  the  British  ambassador  at 
the  Porte,  wrote  thus  to  Lord  Palmerston  : —    • 

"  (Joncral  Aupick  has  assured  me  that  the  matter  in  dispute  is  a  mere  mat- 
Ut  of  j.rnpiTty  and  of  express  treaty  stipulation.  The  immediate  point  of  dlf- 
foirnof  is  the  right  of  possession  "to  certain  portions  of  the  Holy  Church  at 
JtTusalom.  The"  Greeks  are  accused  of  having  usurped  property  which 
iH'lonjs  of  ri'^ht  to  the  Roman  Catholics,  and  of  having  purposely  allowed  the 
chapels  and  fjarticularly  the  monuments  of  Godfrey  "de  Bouillon  and  of  Guy 
de  Lusignan,  to  go  into  decay." 

As  soon  as  this  subject  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Porte  a 
commission  of  inquiry  was  ordered;  but  before  the  commissioners  had 
completed  their  investigations,   the  Czar  addressed  an  autograph 


64  The  Eastern  War.  .    [January. 

letter  to  the  Sultan,  demanding  the  strict  maintenance  of  the  religious 
privileges  of  the  Greeks  in  Palestine.  Greatly  alarmed  at  the  recep- 
tion of  this  letter,  the  Sultan  at  once  dissolved  the  commission, 
stultified  himself  by  a  scries  of  contradictory  edicts,  greatly  compli- 
cated the  matter  by  granting  -what  both  parties  asked,  and,  with  the 
hope  of  pleasing  all,  consented  to  replace  the  missing  star  at  his 
own  cost,  and  restored  the  key  of  the  Church  of  Bethlehem  to  the 
Latins. 

In  1S51  M.  de  Lavalette,  having  succeeded  General  Aupick  as 
French  minister  at  the  Porte,  engaged  in  the  disputes  about  the 
"holy  places"  with  great  zeal,  and  earnestly  pressed  the  Turkish 
government  to  grant  certain  additional  privileges  to  the  Roman 
Catholics.  The  Russian  envoy,  M.  de  Titoff,  exhibited  an  equal 
interest  in  the  subject,  and  took  an  early  occasion  to  express  to  the 
Sultan  his  conviction  that  his  master  would  permit  no  changes  what- 
ever to  be  made  with  respect  to  the  possession  of  the  sanctuaries  at 
Jerusalem ;  whereupon  M.  de  Lavalette  gracefully  yielded  the  point, 
and  proposed  to  settle  the  dispute  by  granting  to  the  Greeks  the  joint 
occupancy  of  the  places  in  question.  M.  de  Titoff  accepted  this 
proposal,  so  far  as  the  places  in  controversy  were  concerned  :  but  at 
the  same  time  made  a  new  demand  for  the  joint  occupation  of  some 
other  sanctuaries  which  had  hitherto  been  in  the  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  the  Latins.  This  new  demand  prevented  any  settlement  of 
the  questions  at  issue,  and  intrigue  for  a  while  took  the  place  of  dis- 
cussion. The  affair  reached  the  surface  again  in  February,  1S52,  when 
the  Porte  addressed  a  note  to  M.  de  Lavalette,  politely  promising 
certain  future  concessions,  but  at  the  same  time  expressly  excluding 
the  Roman  Catholics  from  certain  privileges  granted  to  the  Greeks. 
This  gave  great  offence  to  the  French  ambassador,  and  very  nearly 
produced  an  open  rupture.  Finding  argument  and  expostulation  of 
no  avail,  he  intimated  his  intention  of  bringing  up  the  French  fleet 
to  the  Dardanelles  if  his  demands  were  not  conceded ;  while  the 
Russian  minister,  on  liis  part,  with  equal  decision,  threatened  to 
leave  Constantinople  instantly,  with  every  member  of  his  mission, 
if  the  demands  of  Russia  were  not  complied  with. 

At  this  juncture  M.  d'Ouzeroff  succeeded  M.  de  Titoff  as  Rus- 
sian envoy  at  the  Porto.  His  first  act  was  peremptorily  to  require 
a  firman  granting  the  privileges,  the  bare  intimation  of  which  had 
given  such  great  offence  to  the  French  ambassador :  and,  not  satisfied 
with  the  substantial  success  of  securing  this  point,  he  demanded  that 
the  Porte  should  proclaim  his  victory  by  having  the  firman  publicly 
read  in  Jerusalem  by  an  agent  of  the  government.  The  Sultan,  in 
no  condition  to  refuse,  despatched  Aliff  Bey  to  Jerusalem  for  that 


1S56.3  The  Eastern  War.  55 

purpose ;  but  the  attitude  assumed  by  the  French  minister  terrified 
him,  and  he  hesituted  to  finish  the  duty  with  -which  he  had  been 
charged.  The  French  minister  declared,  that  if  the  firman  was 
proniu1;j;ated,  a  French  fleet  should  appear  off  Jaffa,  and  he  even 
hinted  at  a  French  occupation  of  Jerusalem  itself;  "then,"  said  he, 
•'  we  shall  have  all  the  sanctuaries."  This  firmness  on  the  part  of 
the  French  minister  prevented  the  promulgation  of  the  firman  in 
question.  Jt  would  seem,  however,  that  the  French  government  did 
not  entirely  approve  the  peiemptory  diplomacy  of  M.  do  Lavalctte ; 
for  he  was  recalled,  and  his  place  filled  by  the  appointment  of  M. 
Benedotte.  And  though  the  Toulon  squadron  was  ordered  to  sail 
for  the  Greek  waters,  to  be  prepared  to  sustain  the  Latin  interests, 
yet  the  British  ambassador  wrote  to  his  government  that  "  the 
French  were  content  with  a  part  only  of  what  they  might  have 
claimed."*  During  the  pendency  of  these  disputes  Russia  again 
enlarged  her  demands.  In  addition  to  claiming  a  special  supervision 
over  the  "holy  places"  in  Jerusalem,  she,  in  November,  1S52, 
asserted  her  right  to  exercise  a  protectorate  over  the  entire  Greek 
Church  throughout  the  dominions  of  the  Sultan.  ^leanwhile  "  the 
Porte,  under  the  pressure  of  these  coercions,  committed  a  series  of 
lamentable  contradictions."!  But  unqualified  submission  on  the 
part  of  the  Porte  with  the  concession  of  France,  did  not  satisfy  the 
demands  of  llussia.  On  the  '2Sth  of  February,  1853,  Prince  Mcn- 
EchikofF,  accompanied  by  Count  DimitrelSfessclrode  as  his  secretary, 
arrived  at  Constantinople  on  a  special  mission.  The  prince  was 
clothed  with  full  powers  as  a  plenipotentiary,  on  the  pretence  that 
the  rank  of  charge  d'affaires,  which  M.  d'OuzerofF  held,  did  not  give 
him  the  authority  which  was  required  in  the  transaction  of  such 
^ave  affairs  as  were  then  pending.  It  was  remarked  that  this 
embassy,  from  the  first,  was  portentous  of  evil  to  the  Porte,  inas- 
much as  an  officer  was  selected  to  conduct  it  who  had  been 
distinguished  in  the  recent  war  with  the  Turks,  and  that  his  suite 
included  a  general  officer  and  an  admiral.  The  tranquillity  of  the 
Sublime  Porte  was  greatly  disturbed  by  the  arrival  of  this  embassy; 
and  the  course  of  the  Russian  ambassador,  instead  of  dispelling  the 
fears  of  the  government,  was  well  calculated  to  aggravate  them.  As 
though  seeking  a  quarrel,  he  assumed  an  attitude  of  e.xti-cmo  arro- 
pancc,  and  gratuitously  insulted  Fuad  Effendi,  the  minister  fur  foreign 
affairs.  His  mission,  though  professedly  of  a  conciliatory  character, 
'«Tas  calculated,  and  probably  intended,  to  involve  the  Turkish  gov- 
ernment in  serious  difficulties;  and  in  the  language  of  the  Sultan, 

«»  Vide  Blue  Book,  vol.  i,  p.  18. 

t  Vide  Col.  Rose's  despatch  of  Afarch  7,  1852. 


56  The  Eastern  War.  [January. 

"  to  trample  under  foot  the  rights  of  the  Porte,  and  the  dignity  and 
independence  of  the  sovereign."  Meanwhile  Russia  was  making 
vast  military  preparations,  which  attracted  the  attention  of  both 
England  and  France ;  but  those  governments  being  assured  that  the 
designs  of  Russia  were  eminently  pacific,  continued  to  hope  that 
matters  might  be  amicably  arranged. 

The  first  communication  of  the  Russian  ambassador  to  the  Porte 
was  made  on  the  10th  of  March,  and  it  embraced  the  following 
peremptory  demands : — 

"1.  A  firman  conccrniiic:  tlie  key  of  tlio  Church  of  Iiethlchem,  the  res- 
toration of  tilt;  silver  star,  and  the  posset^sion  of  certain  sanctuaries. 

"  2.  An  order  for  the  repair  of  the  dome  and  other  parts  of  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

"3.  A  scncfl,  or  convention  guaranteeinp;  the  strict  ^  statu  quo'  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  Greek  Church,  and  of  the  sanctuaries  that  are  in  possession  of 
that  faith  exclusively,  or  in  participation  with  other  sects  at  Jerusalem." 

These  demands  were  all  granted  without  hesitation  by  the  Porte, 
and  firmans  to  that  etloct  were  despatched  to  Prince  xMenschikoff 
without  delay.  Until  this  time  Russia  had  perhaps  asked  for  no 
more  than  had  been  conceded  by  the  Ottoman  government  in  former 
treaties  ;*  and  though  her  demands  had  been  made  in  a  haughty  and 
offensive  manner,  yet  the  Porte  exhibited  no  ill-feeling  or  irritation. 
It  was  hoped  by  the  Sultan,  and  by  the  foreign  ministers  who  were 
interested  spectators  at  Constantinople,  that  Russia  would  now  be 
satisfied ;  but  so  far  from  this  being  the  case,  Prince  Menschikoff 
presented  another  note,  at  a  late  hour  of  the  same  day  on  which 
these  last  concessions  were  made,  demanding  a  sencd,  or  conven- 
tion having  the  force  of  a  treaty,  containing  stipulations  that  "  no 
change  whatever  should  be  made  in  the  rights,  privileges,  and  im- 
munities which  had  been  enjoyed  or  possessed  'ab  antiguo'  by  the 
Church,  the  pious  institutions,  and  the  clergy  of  the  orthodox  or 
Greek  Church  in  the  Ottoman  states;  and  that  all  the  rights  and 
advantages  conceded  by  the  Turkisli  government  to^  other  Christian 
sects  by  treaty,  convention,  or  special  grant,  shall  be  considered  as 
belonging  also  to  the  Greek  Church."  To  comprehend  the  effect  of 
this  last  stipulation,  it  must  be  remembered  that  certain  Christian 
congregations  e.xist  within  the  Ottoman  dominions  which  are  not 
immediately  subject  to  the  government.  In  more  than  one  place 
the  members  of  the  Latin  Church  possess  privileges  by  which,  in 
virtue  of  ancient  compacts,  they  are  exempt  from  Turkish  jurisdic- 
tion, and  are  subject  only  to  superiors  of  their  own.  So  that 
the  terms  of  the  scned  demanded  by  Prince  Menschikoff  would 
°  Blue  Book,  vol.  ii,  p.  235. 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.  57 

have  surrendered  to  Russia  the  practical  jurisdiction  of  more  than 
three-fourths  of  the  population  of  the  Danubian  provinces,  and, 
indeed,  the  [greater  part  of  European  Turkey  itself 

It  must  be  admitted  that  it  was  high  time  for  the  "sick  man"  to 
protest,  and  accordingly  Eifat  Pasha,  the  Sultan's  foreign  minis- 
ter, in  a  very  temperate  way,  informed  Prince  Menschikoff  that  his 
demands  could  not  be  complied  with.  Highly  indignant,  the  latter 
proceeded  at  once  to  the  palace  and  demanded  an  audience  of  the 
iSuItan,  who  for  some  time  had  not  quitted  his  apartments  in  conse- 
quence of  the  recent  death  of  his  mother,  the  Sultana  Valide.  And 
although  Prince  Menschikoff  was  informed  that  Mohammedan  cus- 
tom prevented  the  Sultan  from  complying  with  his  wishes,  yet  he  per- 
sisted in  his  demand,  and  after  waiting  three  hours  in  an  ante-room, 
he  was  finally  shown  into  the  imperial  apartments.  Abdul  Medjid, 
though  he  had  so  for  yielded  to  Russian  obstinacy  as  to  admit 
Prince  Menschikoff  to  his  presence,  declined  any  conference  with  him. 
lie  civilly  referred  him  to  his  ministers ;  and  when  the  prince  com- 
menced an  intemperate  speech,  the  sudden  interposition  of  a  cur- 
tain between  the  Sultan  and  his  visitor  terminated  the  interview. 

A  great  council  or  cabinet  meeting  was  now  convened  by  Red- 
schid  Pasha,  who  had  superseded  Rifat  Pasha  as  foreign  minister, 
to  deliberate  upon  the  Russian  note;  and,  without  a  dissenting  voice, 
Prince  MenschikofF's  demand  was  rejected.  In  communicating  this 
rejection,  a  delay  of  four  or  five  days  was  requested,  with  the  hope 
that  some  satisfactory  solution  of  the  difficulty  might  be  discovered. 

The  Russian  minister  graciously  granted  the  Porte  four  days  for 
deliberation,  but  at  the  same  time  still  more  complicated  matters  by 
a  fresh  "  note."  "  It  was  not  alone,"  he  declared,  "  the  spiritual 
privileges  of  the  Greek  clergy  which  Russia  had  determined  to 
assert,  but  all  the  other  rights,  privileges,  and  immunities  of  those 
professing  the  orthodox  faith,  and  of  the  clergy,  dating  from  the 
most  early  times;  that  is  to  say,  all  the  political  privileges  they 
might  have  enjoyed  from  the  earliest  ages." 

\\  hilc  Prince  Menschikoff  w^as  so  pertinaciously  bullying  the 
S^ultan  in  his  own  capital,  Baron  de  Brunow,  the  Russian  ambassa- 
dor at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  informed  the  British  government  in 
the  most  explicit  terms  that  "  the  emperor's  desire  and  determina- 
tion was  to  respect  the  independence  and  integrity  of  the  Ottoman 
Kmpire,  and  tliat  all  the  idle  rumours  to  which  the  arrival  of  Prince 
Menschikoff  in  the  Ottoman  capital  had  given  rise — the  occupation 
of  the  Principalities,  hostile  and  threatening  language  to  the  Porte, 
<>:.c. — were  not  only  exaggerated,  but  destitute  even  of  any  sort  of 
foundation." 

FouuTii  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 4 


•gS  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

...  In  the  extremity  to  which  his  government  had  been  driven,  Rcd- 
fichid  Pasha  consulted  the  representatives  of  the  foreign  pov/ers  at 
Constantinople,  and  received  from  them  the  following  reply : — 

"The  representatives  of  Great  Britain,  France,  xVustria,  and  Prussia,  in 
reply"  to  the  desire  expressed  by  His  Excellency,  Iledschid  Paslia,  to  learn 
their  views  on  the  draft  of  a  note  piescnted  by  Prince  jMenschikoff,  are  of 
opinion  that  on  a  question  which  touches  so  nearly  the  liberty  of  action  and 
sovereignty  of  liis  Majesty  the  Sultan,  His  Excellency  Iledschid  Pasha  is  the 
best  judge  of  the  course  which  ought  to  be  adopted,  and  they  do  not  consider 
themselves  authorized,  in  the  present  circumstances,  to  give  any  opinion  on 
the  subject." 

Left  thus  to  their  own  resources,  the  Turkish  government  assem- 
bled the  great  council  of  the  nation  at  the  house  of  the  Grand 
Vizier,  xlfter  mature  deliberation,  and  long  and  an.xious  debates,  it 
was  decided  by  a  very  large  majority  to  refuse  to  comply  with  the 
demands  of  Russia.  Overtures,  however,  for  pacific  arrangements 
accompanied  the  note  which  communicated  this  decision.  These 
overtures  were  not  entertained  b}'  Prince  Menschikoff,  who,  on  re- 
ceiving the  answer,  at  once  sent  in  his  final  "note,"  declaring  that 
all  further  negotiations  Avould  be  now  useless,  that  his  mission  was 
at  an  end,  and  that  nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  leave  the  Otto- 
man capital  with  the  whole  of  his  retinue.  Redschid  Pasha  made 
some  attempts  to  conciliate  the  Russian  minister  by  private  assur- 
ances of  the  friendly  disposition  of  the  Porte,  and  of  their  willing- 
ness to  meet  all  the  reasonable  demands  of  the  Czar;  but  his  ad- 
vances were  met  by  the  reply  that  it  was  too  late,  that  his  mission 
was  at  an  end,  and  that  the  only  duty  that  remained  to  him  was  to 
remove  from  the  capital  every  person  connected  with  his  embassy. 
He  however  warned  the  Porte,  in  a  supplementary  parting  "  note,'' 
that  "  any  infraction  of  the  'statu  quo'  of  the  Oriental  Church  would 
be  considered  as  a  violation  of  existing  treaties,  and  that  such  infrac- 
tion would  compel  the  Czar  to  have  recourse  to  means  which  he 
desired  at  all  times  not  to  employ."  He  regretted  the  resolution  of 
the  Porte,  and  especially  that  on  so  serious  a  question  the  Divan 
had  been  governed  by  the  influence  of  foreigners.  And  in  conclu- 
sion he  expressed  a  hope  that  the  Ottoman  government  would  ulti- 
mately come  to  a  better  resolution,  and  one  more  agreeable  to  the 
benevolent  intentions  of  the  emperor  his  master. 

On  the  21st  of  May  Prince  iNIcnschikoff  left  Constantinople  with 
'his  embassy,  and  the  subsequent  con^ideration  of  the  questions  at 
issue  was  transferred  from  the  Turkish  capital  to  Vienna,  where  the 
representatives  of  the  four  powers  afterward  endeavoured  to  avert 
the  pending  rupture.     A  direct  attempt  was,  however,  made  by 


1856.3  The  Easteiti  War.  "^^ 

Count  Nesselrode  to  intimidate  the  Porte  by  addressing  an  auto- 
graph letter  to  Rcdschid  Pasha  on  the  31st  of  May,  declarinj:^  that 
if  the  Russian  demands  were  not  at  once  complied  with,  the  Rus- 
sian troops  wouUl  immediately  cross  the  Turkish  frontier,  "not" 
ho  said,  "  to  make  war,  but  to  secure  a  material  guarantee  for  the 
rij^hts  claimed  by  the  emperor."  In  reply,  the  Porte  announced 
the  promulgation  of  the  "  Hatti  Sheriffe,"  confirming  the  rights, 
privilei^es,  and  immunities  which  the  clergy  and  the  Churches  of 
tlie  (j/cck  faUh  had  cujojed  '"06  antiquo.''' 

On  the  12th  of  June  Count  iSIesselrode  addressed  a  long  circular 
to  the  diplomatic  agents  of  the  Czar  at  the  different  foreign  courts. 
This  docTiment  was  published  in  the  "  St.  Petersburgh  Gazette," 
and  we  place  extracts  from  it  on  the  record,  that  the  reader  may 
compare  the  Russian  descriptions  of  the  demands  of  Prince  Men- 
schikoff  with  the  real  history  of  his  mission,  and  form  some  esti- 
mate of  the  cool  assurance,  to  use  a  mild  expression,  of  this  distin- 
guished diplomatist. 

"  You  are  sufficiently  av.-are,"  lie  says,  "  of  the  policy  of  the  emperor  to  know 
th.it  I  lis  .Majesty  does  not  aim  at  the  ruin  and  destruction  of  the  Ottoman  Em- 
pin',  which  ho  himself  on  two  occa-sions  has  saved  from  dissolution ;  but  that 
on  the  contrary  he  has  always  regarded  the  existing  status  quo  as  the  best  pos- 
fible  combination  to  interpose  between  all  the  European  interests,  -which  would 
ii!'ci-.s;u-ily  clash  in  tlie  Ea^t  if  a  void  were  declared.  The  mission  of  Prince 
^fcu-chikoir  never  had  any  other  object  than  the  arrangement  of  the  afiair 
of  the  holy  places." 

The  Emperor  of  Russia  having  solemnly  declared,  on  the  30th  of 
May,  that  if  the  ultimatum  of  Prince  Menschikoff  was  not  accepted 
witliin  eight  days  he  would  occupy  the  Principalities,  the  allied 
fleets  were  ordered  to  repair  to  Besika  Bay,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Dardanelles,  where  they  anchored  on  the  15th  of  June,  1853.  On 
the  '2tjth  of  the  same  month  the  Czar  issued  the  following  manifesto, 
in  which  ho  gives  his  ov.n  version  of  the  causes  of  the  war,  and  his 
^oa^ou  for  occupying  the  Danubian  provinces  : — 

"rETEKHOFF,    JuHC    ^|,    1853. 

"It  is  knovm  to  our  faithful  subjects  that  the  defence  of  our  faith  has  always 
Won  tho  iicrod  daty  of  our  ancestors.  From  the  day  that  it  phrased  the 
Aliui;_'hty  to  place  us  on  the  throne  of  our  fathers,  the  maintenance  of  the 
holy  i.hli|.;;itlons  with  which  it  is  inseparably  connected  has  been  tlic  object  of 
OUT  carlust  care  and  attention.  These, "actini:  on  the  groundwork  of  the 
famous  tn\aty  of  Kiarnardji,  which  subsequent  treaties  with  ihc  Ottoman  Porte 
have  fully  confirmed,  have  ever  been  directed  to  upholding  the  rights  of  our 
("hurtli.  All  our  cHorts  to  prevent  the  Poite  from  continuing  in  this  course 
proved  fruitless,  and  even  the  oath  of  the  .^ultan  himself  solemnly  given  to  us 
was  perfidiously  broken.  Having  exhausted  all  means  of  conviction,  and 
-waving  in  vain  tried  all  the  means  by  which  our  just  claims  could  be  possibly 


60  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

adjusted,  Tve  have  deemed  it  indispensable  to  move  our  armies  into  the  prov- 
inces on  the  Danube,  iu  order  that  the  Porte  may  see  to  what  her  stubborn- 
ness may  lead. 

"  But  even  now  we  have  no  intention  of  commencing  Avar.  In  occupyint» 
these  provinces  we  wish  to  hold  a  sufficient  pledge  to  guarantee  for  ourselves 
the  reestablishmcnt  of  our  rights,  under  any  circumstances  whatever. 

"  We  do  not  sock  for  conquests.  Rui.-ia  does  not  require  them.  "We  seek 
the  justification  of  those  rights  which  have  been  so  openly  violated.  We  are 
still  ready  to  stop  the  movement  of  our  troops,  if  the  Ottoman  Porte  will  bind 
itself  to  observe  solemnly  the  inviolability  of  the  onhodo.-c  (Pravoslavan) 
Church;  but  if,  from  stubbornness  and  blindness,  it  decrees  the  contrary, 
then,  calling  Gwl  to  our  aid,  we  shall  leave  him  to  decide  between  us,  and| 
■with  a  full  assurance  in  the  arm  of  the  Almighty,  we  shall  (^o  forth  to  fi<^ht  for 
the  orthodox  faith."  "  =  o 


On  the  twelfth  of  July  Count  Nesselrode  issued  another  circular 
to  the  Russian  representatives  at  foreign  courts,  in  which  he 
attempted  to  show  that  Russia  was  only  acting  on  the  defensive, 
and  that  the  occupation  of  the  Principalities  was  justified  by  the 
threatening  demonstration  of  the  Allies  in  sending  their  fleets  to 
Besika  Bay.  "  The  position,"  he  says,  "  taken  up  by  the  two  powers 
in  the  ports  and  waters  of  the  Ottoman  Empire,  within  sight  of  the 
capital,  is  a  species  of  maritime  occupation  which  gives  Russia  occa- 
sion to  restore  the  balance  between  their  relative  situations  by 
taking  up  a  military  position." 

But  this  is  plainly  an  afterthought;  the  intention  of  occupying 
the  Principalities  in  a  certain  contingency  was  officially  announced 
in  the  Russian  capital  on  the  thirtieth  of  ^Jay,  and  the  Allies 
decided,  two  days  afterward,  to  despatch  their  naval  forces  to 
Besika  Bay ;  but  this  intention  of  the  allied  powers  could  not  have 
been  known  at  St.  Petersburgh  until  nearly  ten  days  after  the  Rus- 
sian decision  respecting  the  Principalities  had  been  formally  declared 
to  the  Ottoman  Porte.  While  Russia  was  thus  endeavourin-r  to 
convince  the  different  cabinets  of  Europe  of  her  pacific  intentions, 
she  was  rapidly  and  silently  concentrating  an  army  of  a  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  men  on  the  Prutli,  and  the  first  corps,  under 
the  command  of  General  Luders,  passed  that  river  at  Levad  on  the 
twenty-first  of  June,  and  seven  days  afterward  the  entire  army  of 
occupation,  under  the  command  of  Prince  Michael  Gortschakoff,  had 
entered  the  Principalities. 

That  this  movement  on  the  part  of  Russia  was  an  infraction  of 
the  treaties  of  Adrianople  and  Balta  Liman  cannot  admit  of  a ' 
doubt. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  relation  in  which  the  Principalities 
Stood  to  both  Russia  and  Turkey  was  peculiar  and  unprecedented. 
To  Turkey  was  guaranteed  the   prerogative  of  sovereignty ;  and 


1856.3  The  Eastern  War.  61 

Kussia  had,  with  her,  a  right  to  a  sort  of  joint  occupancy  under  cer- 
tain clearly-described  circumstances,  "while  the  people  possessed 
many  of  the  privile;^es  of  self-government.  These  apparently  con- 
flicting and  irreconcilable  stipulations  are  contained  in  the  fifth 
article  of  t)ie  treaty  of  Adrianople,  -which  declares  that  "the  Princi- 
palities, being  placed  under  the  suzeraincLc  of  the  Poi-tt?,  shall  pos- 
sess all  the  privileges  and  immunities  which  shall  have  been  accorded 
to  them,  whether  by  treaties  between  the  two  imperial  courts,  or  by 
'llatti  Shcrifles '  promulgated  at  diflerent  epochs,  and  that  they 
shall  enjoy  the  free  exercise  of  their  religion  in  perfect  security; 
a  national  and  indepemient  administration,  and  complete  freedom  of 
commerce."  The  treaty  of  Adrianople  was  ratified  in  1S28  ;  and  in 
1S49  the  convention  or  treaty  of  Balta  Liman,  fixing  the  cases  in 
which  a  mutual  occupation  of  the  Principalities  could  legally  take 
place,  was  negotiated  and  signed. 

♦  By  the  stipulations  of  this  treaty  nothing  but  "grave  events 
occurring  in  the  Principalities  themselves"  can  justify  the  interposi- 
tion of  either  power.  And  when  the  necessity  shall  have  arisen, 
the  treaty  stipulates  that  the  occupation  shall  be  a  mutual  one,  and 
shall  be  made  simultaneously  by  Russia  and  Turkey.  It  is,  more- 
over, expressly  proWded  that  the  maximum  number  of  troops  that 
shall  be  sent  into  the  Principalities  "  shall  not  exceed  thirty-five  thou- 
sand men  on  each  side,  to  be  regularly  counted,  regiment  by  regiment, 
and  battalion  by  battalion."  By  "grave  events"  is  meant  any 
serious  difficulty  occurring  within  the  described  territory  which 
might  prove  too  formidable  to  be  controlled  without  foreign  assist- 
ance. But  at  the  moment  when  Russia  chose  to  cross  the  frontier, 
no  disturbance  of  any  kind  furnished  a  pretext  for  the  movement. 
Hence  Turkey  protested  against  the  invasion  of  a  territory  secured 
by  treaty,  and  persisted  in  refusing  to  treat  with  Russia  until  her 
armies  were  withdrawn. 

The  Tiu'kish  protest  had  no  effect  whatever  on  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment; on  the  contrary.  Prince  Gortschakoff  proceeded  to  estab- 
lisli  himself  in  the  Principalities,  and  to  sever  entirely  their  connexion 
with  the  Porte.  Still,  though  the  tribute  due  the  Sultan  was  stopped 
and  turned  into  the  Russian  military  chest,  and  the  Ilospodars 
appointed  by  the  Porte  were  driven  out  of  the  country,  Russia  conti- 
nued to  declare  that  her  occupation  of  the  Danubian  Principalities 
was  not  intended  as  a  declaration  of  war. 

This  affu-mation  of  the  Czar  encouraged  the  allied  powers  seriously 
to  occupy  themselves  in  the  attempt  to  avert  the  threatened  conflict. 
As  early  as  the  twenty-fourth  of  June  the  French  government  had 
proposed  the  plan  of  settlement  on  which  was  afterward  based  the 


62  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

celebrated  "  Vienna  note,"  but  the  conference  did  not  assemble  until 
a  month  later.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  July,  however,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  four  powers,  France,  Great  Britain,  Austria,  and 
Russia,  met  at  Vienna,  and  proceeded  to  discuss  propositions  to  be 
submitted  to  Russia  and  Turkey.  In  this  conference,  it  will  be 
observed,  Russia  was  represented  but  Turkey  was  not.  A  few 
hours  were  spent  in  drawing  up  the  terms  of  settlement,  which  were 
then  transmitted  to  London  and  Paris  by  telegraph.  The  assent 
of  France  and  England  v>as  immediately  given,  and,  with  their  signa- 
tures appended,  the  terms  were  transmitted  to  St.  Petcrsburgh, 
where,  Avithout  hesitation,  they  received  the  approval  of  the  Czar. 
In  signifying  his  approval  however,  the  Czar  stated  to  the  British 
.ambassador  at  St.  Petersburgh  "  that  he  would  accept  the  terms 
recommended  to  him  by  the  conference  of  Vienna  if  the  Porte 
would  accept  the  note  such  as  it  stands,  sans  variation,  and  that  he 
would  then  receive  the  Ottoman  ambassador."  » 

The  signature  of  the  Porte  was  now  all  that  Avas  needed  to  secure 
the  pacific  settlement  of  the  difficulties  between  Russia  and  Turkey, 
and  the  document  was  forwarded  for  that  purpose ;  but,  to  the  utter 
astonishment  of  all  parties  except  perhaps  of  Austria  and  Russia, 
the  Porte  refused  to  accept  the  note  unless  certain  alterations  were 
introduced  into  the  form  of  it.  This  determination  was  announced 
to  the  representatives  of  the  "powers"  at  Constantinople  by 
Redschid  Pasha  on  the  twentieth  of  August,  expressing  the  regret 
of  the  Sultan  that  the  Vienna  note  ''  should  contain  certain  super- 
fluous paragraphs  incompatible  with  the  sacred  rights  of  the  govern- 
ment of  His  Majesty."  "  The  note  as  it  now  stands,"  said  the 
Pasha,  "seems  to  us  to  be  open  to  certain  interpretations  not 
intended  by  the  powers,  but  against  which  we  think  it  necessary  to 
guard  more  distinctly.  ^Vith  this  view  we  propose  certain  alter- 
ations in  the  wording  of  the  note ;  if  these  be  admitted  we  are  willing 
to  adopt  it." 

It  is  somewhat  surprising  to  discover  in  this  "  note,"  under  the 
flimsy  disguise  of  words,  the  same  stipulations  iu  substance  which 
occasioned  the  rejection  of  Prince  MenschikofT's  ultimatum.  This 
doubtless  escaped  the  penetration  of  the  Vienna  diplomatists,  who, 
it  must  be  admitted,  were  guilty  of  a  great  political  blunder  in 
adopting  a  note  capable  of  different  and  conflicting  interpretations. 
The  ministers  of  the  Sultan  perceived  at  once  that  it  could  be  con- 
strued in  a  manner  highly  injurious  to  the  Porte,  and  the  four  powers 
were  frank  enough  to  confess  that  their  objections  to  it  were  well 
founded. 

The  modifications  suggested  by  the  Porte  were  not,  however, 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.  6S 

acceptable  to  the  Czar ;  and  on  the  receipt  of  his  answer,  giving 
notice  of  their  rejection,  nothing  remained  for  the  western  powers 
but  to  abuudoii  the  note  which  had  been  drawn  with  such  studied 
care.  The  Vienna  conference,  however,  continued  in  session,  and  its 
members  laboured  assiduously  to  reach  some  harmonious  conclusion ; 
and  on  the  twcntj'-second  of  November  the  Austrian  and  Prussian 
governments  agreed  with  those  of  England  and  France  upon  a  basis 
for  negotiation,  and  a  collective  note  to  the  following  effect  was 
drawn  up  and  signed  by  the  four  powers  : — 

"Tho  existence  of  Turkey  in  the  limits  assigned  to  licr  by  treaty  is  one  of 
the  necessary  conditions  of  the  balance  of  power  in  Europe,  and  the  linder- 
fcignod  plenipotentiaries  record  with  satisfaction  that  the  existing  war  cannot, 
in  any  case,  lead  to  modifications  in  the  territorial  boundaries  of  the  two 
empires  which  might  be  calculated  to  alter  the  state  of  possession  in  tlie  E;ist 
■which  has  been  established  for  a  length  of  time,  and  which  is  equally  necessary 
for  the  tranquillity  of  all  the  other  powers." 

A  careful  attention  to  the  points  actually  in  issue  between  Russia 
and  Turkey  will  convince  the  impartial  observer  that  the  former 
government  from  the  first  aimed  not  to  preserve  rights  already  pos- 
sessed, but  to  enlarge  her  power  by  extending  her  control  over 
several  millions  of  the  subjects  of  the  Porte. 

The  "  Vienna  note,"  accepted  so  readily  by  the  Czar,  contained 
this  passage : — 

"  That  the  Sultan  would  cause  the  Greek  Christians  to  participate  equally 
in  the  advantages  granted  or  hereafter  to  be  granted  to  other  Christians  by 
conventions  or  special  ordinances." 

The  modifications  required  by  the  Sultan  were  as  follows : — 

"  That  the  Sultan  would  make  the  Greek  Christians  participate  equitably 
in  the  advantjiges  granted  to  other  Christian  communities,  being  Ottoman 
iuhjects." 

The  fact  already  stated,  that  in  many  places  in  Turkey  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Latin  Church,  by  virtue  of  ancient  compacts,  are 
exempt  from  Turkish  control,  and  are  governed  by  superiors  of  their 
own,  shows  the  vital  importance  of  this  modification.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  "  Vienna  Conference  "  readily  admitted  the  justness  and 
imjiortance  of  the  objections  made  to  their  note  by  the  Porte,  and, 
having  approved  the  modifications  suggested,  they  earnestly,  though 
vainly,  pressed  their  acceptance  upon  the  emperor  of  Russia. 

Meanwhile  both  Russia  and  Turkey  were  preparing  to  submit 
their  disputes  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword.  The  Russians 
occupied  the  T'rincipalitics,  and  the  Turkish  forces,  under  Omar 
Pasha,  had  advanced  to  the  right  bank  of  the  Danube,  so  that  an 
encounter  was  aj)prehended,  although  war  had  not  been  formally 
declared  by  either  party. 


64"  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

■  Such,  however,  was  the  wild  enthusiasm  awakened  among  the 
subjects  of  the  Porte  by  the  Russian  invasion,  that,  to  prevent  an 
insurrection  in  Constantinople,  the  Sultan  was  literally  compelled 
to  declare  war ;  and  the  declaration  agreed  to  by  the  grand  council 
was  signed  on  the  tAventy-seventh  of  September,  and  published  by 
manifesto  on  the  third  of  October,  announcing  the  declaration  of 
war  against  Russia  in  case  the  Principalities  were  not  evacuated  by 
the  twenty-fourth  of  that  month.  Still,  however,  confident  hopes 
were  entertained  by  the  western  powers,  and  by  the  civilized  world, 
that  war  would  yet  be  avoided. 

Meanwhile  Omar  Pasha  had  summoned  Prince  Gortschakoff  to 
evacuate  the  provinces  within  fifteen  days,  solemnly  assuring  him 
that  noncompliance  would  lead  to  the  commencement  of  hostilities. 
To  this  letter  Prince  Gortschakoff  replied  as  follows : — 

"  My  master  is  not  at  war  with  Turkey  ;  but  I  have  orders  not  to  leave  the 
Principalities  until  the  Porte  shall  have  given  to  the  emperor  the  moral  satis- 
faction he  demands.  When  this  point  is  obtained  I  will  evacuate  the  Principali- 
ties immediately,  whatever  the  time  or  season.  If  I  am  attacked  by  the  Turkish 
army  1  shall  confine  myself  to  the  defensive." 

On  the  eleventh  of  November  the  Czar  published  a  formal  declara- 
tion of  war  against  Turkey,  in  which  he  speaks,  with  well-affected 
severity,  of  the  blind  obstinacy  of  the  Ottoman  government,  and 
magnifies  his  own  legitimate  solicitude  for  the  defence  of  the  ortho- 
dox faith  in  the  East,  as  well  as  his  spirit  of  long-suffering  under 
manifold  provocations.  This  proclamation  was  followed  by  active 
hostilities  between  the  belligerents,  and  by  the  arrival  of  the  allied 
fleets  in  the  Black  Sea;  but  before  any  important  operations  had 
taken  place,  the  allied  powers  made  one  more  vain  effort  to  avert 
the  war  by  submitting  the  terms  of  the  Porte  as  an  ultimatum  to 
Russia. 

It  is  foreign  from  our  purpose  to  describe  particularly  the  events 
of  the  campaign  on  the  Danube ;  it  is  sufiicient  to  say  that  it  was 
conducted  with  skill  on  the  part  of  the  Turks,  and  that  it  terminated 
to  their  advantage.  Under  the  command  of  the  experienced  Omar 
Pasha  the  Ottoman  army  finally  drove  the  Russian  forces  beyond 
the  Pruth.  The  Turkish  squadron  also  took  the  initiative  in  the 
Black  Sea,  and  commenced  offensive  operations  by  attacking  Fort 
St.  Nicholas,  between  Batoun  and  Poti,  which  they  captured  after  a 
vigorous  defence.  At  Sinope  the  Turks  were  less  successful,  suffer- 
ing a  disastrous  defeat,  with  the  loss  of  several  vessels  and  many 
lives,  in  an  attempt  to  defend  the  harbour  and  town  against  a  Rus- 
sian squadron  of  greatly  superior  force. 

Up  to  this  period  the  Allies  liad  taken  no  active  part  in  the  war. 


185G.]  The  Eastern  War.  65 

The  object  with  which  the  combined  fleets  were  sent  to  Constan- 
tiiioplc  was  not  to  att:ick  Russia,  but  to  defend  Turkey ;  and  the 
English  and  Frcucli  ambassadors  were  informed  that  the  fleets  were 
not  to  assume  an  aggressive  position,  but  that  they  were  to  protect 
the  Turkish  territory  from  attack.  And  in  order  to  prevent  the 
recurrence  of  such  disasters  as  that  at  Sinope,  the  fleets  were  ordered 
to  outer  the  Black  Sea,  and  require,  and  if  necessary  compel,  Rus- 
sian ships  of  war  to  return  to  Sevastopol  or  the  nearest  port.  The 
Ottoman  Porte  seemed  inclined,  even  after  the  atlair  at  Sinope,  to 
renew  negotiations  through  the  allied  powers,  and  the  latter  still 
continued  indefatigable  in  their  efforts  for  the  restoration  of 
peace. 

For  this  end  the  representatives  of  the  four  powers  signed  a  con- 
vention, in  which  they  recorded  their  own  complete  union  of  purpose 
in  maintaining  the  territorial  limits  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  and  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Porte.  A  "  note,"  framed  in  accordance  Avith 
these  views,  Avas  accepted  by  the  Porte,  but  rejected  by  the  Czar, 
who  declared  that  he  would  allow  of  no  mediation  between  himself 
and  Turkey:  that  Turkey,  if  she  wished  to  treat,  might  send  an 
ambassador  to  St.  Petersburgh.  He  now  insisted  upon  conditions 
which  amounted  to  a  considerable  increase  on  those  demanded  by 
Prince  Menschikoff  at  Constantinople. 

During  the  protracted  but  abortive  attempts  at  negotiation,  the 
conduct  of  Austria  was  sufiiciently  equivocal.  At  one  time  the 
Austrian  minister  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  the  protocols 
which  had  been  drawn  up  by  England  and  France,  at  Count  Buol's 
request,  were  the  true  basis  of  the  conditions  which  they  Avould 
accept,  and  that  his  master,  the  emperor,  would  adhere  to  those 
conditions  even  at  the  hazard  of  war.  Yet  when  Count  Orloff  left 
Vienna  on  the  fourth  of  February,  he  carried  Avith  him  the  assur- 
ance that  in  the  coming  struggle  the  neutrality  of  both  Austria  and 
Prussia  might  be  relied  upon.  Austria  subsequently  inquired  of 
the  Russian  cabinet  whether  they  would  object  to  a  European  pro- 
tectorate over  the  Christians  in  Turkey.  The  reply,  couched  in  the 
most  positive  terms,  was  that  "  Russia  would  permit  no  other  power 
to  meddle  in  the  affairs  of  the  Greek  Church.  Russia  had  treaties 
with  the  Porte,  and  would  settle  the  question  with  her  alone." 
From  the  tone  and  terms  of  the  reply  it  was  inferred  that  the  Czar 
would  consent  to  no  treaty  which  did  not  secure  to  him  everything, 
and  more  than  everytliing,  which  had  been  demanded  by  Prince 
Menschikoff  at  Constantinople.  The  next  step  in  the  negotiations 
was  the  presentation  of  a  "Turkish  note"  of  settlement  to  the 
"Vienna  Conference"  on  the  thirteenth  of  January,     This  note 


66  The  Eastern  War.  [January, 

was,  after  a  brief  deliberation,  approved  of,  and  forwarded  at  once  to 
St.  Petcrsburgh;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  the  Czar  deigned  to 
honour  it  \Yith  a  reply.  A  few  days  afterward  the  emperor  of 
France  sent  an  autograph  letter  to  the  Czar,  to  which  the  Czar 
replied  in  substance  that  the  conditions  made  known  at  the  confer- 
ence of  Vienna  were  the  sole  basis  on  which  he  would  consent  to 
treat.  Four  days  after  this  reply  was  received  (on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  February)  the  governments  of  Franco  and  England 
resolved  to  address  a  formal  summons  to  the  Czar,  calling  upon 
him  to  give,  in  six  days,  a  solemn  promise  that  he  would  cause  his 
troops  to  evacuate  the  Principalities  of  the  Danube  on  or  before  the 
thirtieth  of  April. 

This  decisive  step  was,  perhaps,  hastened  by  the  dismissal  of  the 
English  and  French  ambassadors  from  the  Court  of  Russia,  the 
former  of  whom  left  St.  Petersburgh  on  the  eighteenth,  and  the 
latter  on  the  twenty-first  of  February.  The  St.  Petersburgh  Jour- 
nal, noticing  the  departure  of  the  two  ambassadors,  remarks :  "  The 
emperor,  having  declared  the  line  pursued  by  the  two  western  powers 
to  be  a  severe  blow  aimed  at  the  rights  of  the  Czar  in  his  character 
as  a  belligerent  sovereign,  has  thought  it  right  to  protest  against 
their  acts  of  aggression,  and  to  suspend  diplomatic  relations  with 
England  and  France." 

On  the  eleventh  of  i\larch  the  Baltic  fleet  sailed  from  Spithead, 
under  the  command  of  Admiral  Sir  Charles  Napier;  and  on  the 
next  day  a  treaty  was  concluded  between  England,  France,  and  the 
Porte,  containing  the  following  stipulations,  viz.  : — 

"  J.  France  and  England  cncrago  to  support  Turkey  by  force  of  arms  until 
the  conclusion  of  a  peace  which  shall  secure  the  integrity  and  independence 
of  the  Sultan's  rights  and  dominions; 

"2.  The  Forte  engages  not  to  conclude  peace  without  the  consent  of  her 
allies; 

"  3.  The  allied  powers  promise  to  evacuate,  after  the  termination  of  the  war 
and  at  the  recjucst  of  tlie  Porte,  all  those  parts  of  the  empire  which  they  may 
find  it  necessary  to  occupy  during  the  continuance  of  hostilities ;  and, 

"4.  All  the  ?ubjcct.s  of  the  I'orte,  without  distinction  of  creed,  are  secured 
complete  equality  before  the  law." 

This  treaty,  signed  by  England,  France,  and  Turkey,  remained 
open  for  the  acceptance  of  the  other  great  powers. 

An  Anglo-French  ultimatum  was  now  forwarded  to  St.  I'eters- 
burgh,  in  reply  to  which  the  Czar  is  reported  to  have  said  that  the 
terms  proposed  did  not  require  five  minutes'  consideration,  and  that, 
rather  than  submit  to  such  conditions,  he  would  sacrifice  his  last 
soldier  and  spend  his  last  rouble.  The  reply  of  Count  Is'esselrode, 
however,  was  that  "  no  answer  would  be  given  by  the  imperial  court." 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.  67 

The  messenger  bearing  this  answer  reached  London  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  March,  and  on  the  twenty- eighth  of  that  month  war  was 
declared  against  Russia  by  England  and  France  simultaneously. 
Knssia  responded  by  a  counter  declaration  of  war  against  England 
and  Erauco  three  days  afterward. 

Immediately  upon  the  declaration  of  war  by  the  Allies  they  both 
embarked  large  bodies  of  troops  for  the  East,  and  early  in  the  month 
of  April  ten  thousand  British  troops  were  cantoned  near  Scutari, 
on  the  Asiatic  side  of  the  Bosphorus,  while  twenty  thousand  Erench 
soldiers  took  up  their  quarters  on  the  opposite  side.  The  principal 
encampment  of  the  Allies  vi'as  subsequently  established  at  Varna, 
where  not  less  than  forty-thousand  men  were  kept  inactive,  decimated 
by  cholera  and  other  diseases,  while  Omar  Pasha,  within  a  fevv'  days' 
easy  march,  was  gallantly  driving  the  Russian  forces  out  of  the 
Principalities. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  April  a  new  convention  was  formed  between 
the  governments  of  England  and  France,  in  vrhich  the  object  of  the 
two  courts  is  stated  to  be  "  the  recstablishment  of  peace  between 
the  Czar  and  the  Sultan  on  a  firm  basis,  and  the  preservation  of 
Europe  from  the  dangers  which  have  disturbed  the  general  peace." 
"  The  Allies  distinctly  disclaim  all  exclusive  advantages  to  them- 
selves from  the  events  which  may  arise,  and  they  invite  the  rest  of 
Europe  to  cooperate  with  them  in  an  alliance  dictated  only  by  a 
regard  for  the  interests  of  all." 

Justice  requires  us  to  say  that  Russia  was  equally  disinterested 
in  her  professions.  In  the  declaration  of  war  by  Russia  the  follow- 
ing language  is  employed: — 

"The  desire  of  possessing  Constantinople,  if  that  empire  should  fall,  and  the 
intention  of  forming  a  permanent  establishment  there  have  been  tix)  publicly, 
too  solemnly  disowned  tor  any  doubts  to  be  entertained  on  that  subject,  which 
do  not  originate  in  a  distrust  that  nothing  can  cure. 

"  It  is  to  defend  the  influence  not  less  necessary  to  the  Ilus^ian  nation  than 
it  is  es<ential  to  the  order  and  se(;uriry  of  other  states, — it  is  to  sustain  the 
dignity  and  territorial  independence,  -which  are  the  basis  of  it,  that  the  emperor, 
obliged  in  spite  of  himself  to  embark  in  this  contest,  is  about  to  employ  all  t!ie 
means  of  resistance  that  arc  furnished  by  the  devotion  and  patriotism  of  hia 
people."— 5i.  Petershurgh  Journal,  March  30,  1S51. 

In  the  latter  part  of  June  a  large  force,  consisting  of  ten  thousand 
French  troops,  under  the  command  of  General  Baraguay  d'llilliers, 
sailed  in  Ikitish  vessels  from  the  northern  ports  of  France  to 
cooperate  with  Sir  Charles  Napier  in  the  Baltic.  The  allied  squad- 
ron blockaded  the  Russian  ports  and  captured  Bom-arsund,  on  the 
island  of  Aland;  but,  upon  the  whole,  failed  to  verify  the  expecta- 
tions of  the  people  of  England  and  France.     Meanwhile  the  war 


68  The  Eastei-n  War.  [January, 

\ras  vigorously  pursued  againsb  the  Russians  in  Asia  Minor  by  the 
indefatigable  chief  Schainyl,  who  had  gathered  under  his  banner 
eighty  thousand  -warriors. 

The  period  had  now  arrived  when  the  inactivity  of  the  Allies  was 
to  give  place  to  a  decisive  aggressive  movement;  and  in  a  council  of 
war,  held  at  Varna  by  the  English  and  French  general  officers  on 
the  2Gth  of  August,  the  expedition  to  the  Crimea  was  decided  upon, 

Prenous  to  the  eastern  Avar  but  little  accurate  knov.ledge  was  pos- 
sessed by  the  inhabitants  of  modern  Europe  with  respect  to  the 
Crimea  or  its  resources.  This  peninsula  was,  however,  well  known 
to  the  ancients.  During  the  most  prosperous  days  of  Greece  it  was 
the  storehouse  of  Athens,  whither  it  exported  large  quantities  of 
grain.*  At  that  period  it  was  under  the  government  of  a  line  of 
princes  known  as  the  Kings  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  for  ages  after- 
ward its  inhabitants  were  distinguished  for  their  intelligence  and 
refinement,  and  for  their  progress  in  the  arts.  The  museums  of 
Cafla,  2<ikolaieff.  and  Odessa,  contain  numerous  remains  of  antiquity, 
illustrative  of  the  advanced  condition  of  its  ancient  inhabitants.  At 
Inkermann,  Balaklava,  and  other  places,  evidences  exist  to  show  that 
the  Genoese,  during  their  commercial  supremacy,  explored  the 
Euxine,  and  planted  colonies  in  the  Crimea.  Theodosia,  or  Caffa, 
was  at  that  time  a  great  entrepot  for  the  commerce  with  interior 
Asia.  The  route  to  China  was  from  Azof  to  Astrakan,  and 
thence  through  various  places  not  found  in  modern  maps  to  "  Cam- 
balu,"  which  is  thought  to  bo  the  modern  Pekin.f  The  Venetians 
had  also  a  settlement  in  the  Crimea,  and  appear,  by  a  passage  in 
Petrarch's  Letters,  to  have  possessed  some  of  the  trade  through  Tar- 
tary.  Under  the  Tartar  government,  this  peninsula  was  at  one  time 
covered  with  many  flourishing  cities.  In  1740  the  Russians  first 
entered  the  Crimea.  In  that  year  the  lines  of  Perekop  were  forced 
by  Count  de  JMunich,  and  the  country  was  wasted  b}-  fire  and  sword ; 
but  upon  the  termination  of  the  war  it  was  restored  to  the  Turks. 
In  1772  Perekop  was  again  taken  by  Russia,  and,  by  the  treaty  of 
Kiarnardji,  the  Crimea  was  finally  severed  from  the  Turkish 
Empire.  This  country  has  always  been  highly  prized  by  the  Russian 
government,  being  considered  by  her  rulers  and  statesmen  as  the 
gateway  through  which  Constantinople  was  finally  to  be  approached. 
The  famous  inscription  at  Kherson,  "  This  way  leads  to  Byzantium," 
which  so  much  delighted  the  Czarina  Catharine  II.  upon  her  visit 
to  that  part  of  her  dominions,  was  understood  to  indicate  the  route 
by  Perekop  and  Sevastopol  as  the  most  ready  avenue  of  approach 
to  the  long  desired  goal.  The  preeminent  importance  attached  to 
•  Strabo.  j  Hallam. 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.  69 

the  latter  place,  and  the  commanding  influence  it  was  expected  to 
exert  in  the  ultimate  designs  of  Russia,  are  significantly  suggested 
even  by  its  name,  Sevastopol,  signifying  Augustan,  or  imperial  city. 

As  the  Crimea  has  been  the  principal  theatre  of  the  present  war, 
the  interest  of  Avhich  has  chiefly  centred  at  Sevastopol  and  its  neigh- 
bourhood, Ave  accompany  the  present  article  \i\t\\  an  accurate  outline 
map  of  the  entire  peninsula,  and  a  section  on  a  much  larger  scale  of 
Sevastapol,  v.ith  its  harbour  and  vicinity,  enabling  the  reader  to 
obtain  a  clear  understanding  of  the  operations  of  the  belligerents. 

It  v;ill  be  perceived,  by  a  reference  to  the  map,  tbat  the  Crimea  is 
a  peninsula  connected  A^ith  Southern  Russia  by  the  isthmus  of 
Perekop.  This  isthmus  is  about  seventeen  miles  long  and  five 
broad.  It  is  fortified,  and  the  only  ingress  or  egress  to  the  peninsula 
by  land  is  through  an  arched  gateway  in  a  rampart  running  from  sea 
to  sea.  To  guard  against  the  inconveniences  which  might  occur 
from  this  position  passing  into  the  hands  of  an  enemy,  the  Russians 
have  constructed  across  the  shallows  of  the  Putrid  Sea  a  great  mili- 
tary road,  which  is  said  to  furnish  a  more  available  route  for  the 
passage  of  troops  from  Russia  to  the  Crimea  than  the  road  by 
Perekop  itself.  Besides  these  there  is  a  third  route,  which  is  some- 
times followed  from  the  eastern  parts  of  the  Crimea  to  the  continent. 
A  reference  to  the  map  will  show  that  a  narrow  tongue  of  land, 
called  the  Spit  of  Arabat,  runs  up  from  the  cascorn  corner  of  the 
Crimea,  almost  touching  the  continent  at  the  Strait  of  Genitchi.  It 
is  quite  possilde  for  troops  marching  into  the  Crimea  to  cross  the 
strait,  and,  pursuing  this  road  by  the  Spit  of  Arabat,  to  enter  the 
Crimea  at  Fort  Arabat,  a  few  miles  north  of  Cafl'a. 

The  allied  expedition  to  the  Crimea  having  first  taken  possession  of 
Eupatoria,  where  they  landed  a  small  garrison  and  established  a  depot, 
finally  made  their  descent  at  a  point  designated  on  the  map  as  the  Old 
Fort,  where  they  disembarked,  without  opposition,  a  body  of  about 
sixty  thousand  men,  on  the  morning  of  September  14,  1S54.  The 
disembarkation  was  completed  without  accident,  and  the  troops 
instantly  took  up  the  line  of  march  for  Sevastopol.  The  Allies 
first  encountered  their  enemy  on  the  line  of  the  river  Alma,  about 
fifteen  miles  to  the  northward  of  Sevastopol.  The  banks  of  this 
river  *  are  lofty  and  precipitous,  and  the  Russia!is,  availing  them- 
selves of  its  natural  advantages,  had  fortified  it  in  a  manner  which 
they  deemed  inipregnable.  This  strong  position  was  defended  by 
over  fifty  thousand  men,  with  one  hundred  pieces  of  artillery  ;  but 
the  impetuous   gallantry   of  the  allied   troops  achieved  apparent 

°  The  Alma,  the  Katcha,  the  Belbck,  and  the  Tchernaya  are  all  small  streams, 
and  arc  nearly  everywhere  fordable. 


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08* 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.  71 

impossibilities,  and  in  three  hours  the  position  was  forced,  and  the 
battle  of  the  Alma  won,  ^vith  a  loss  to  the  Russians  in  killed  and 
wounded  of  eight  thousand  men,  and  to  the  Allies  of  nearly  half  that 
number.  Two  days  after  the  battle  of  the  Alma  the  allied  troops 
resumed  their  march;  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  crossed 
the  Katcha,  another  small  river  running  parallel  to  the  Alraa.  The 
passage  of  neither  the  Katcha  nor  the  Belbck  was  opposed  by  the 
Russians ;  and  on  Sunday,  the  24th  of  September,  the  Allies  took  up 
a  position  about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  advance  of  the  latter  stream. 

On  Monday  morning  a  reconnoissance  was  made  toward  Inkermann. 
with  the  view  of  finding  a  practicable  crossing  for  the  army  over  the 
Tchernaya,  and  the  marshy  ground  on  its  banks  ;  but  the  officer  by 
whom  it  was  conducted  reported  that  he  could  only  find  a  causeway 
over  the  morass,  and  a  bridge  over  the  river,  with  a  strong  force  on 
the  opposite  side. 

Up  to  this  period  it  had  been  the  intention  of  the  allied  command- 
ers to  attack  Sevastopol  on  the  north  side  of  the  harbour.  But  in 
consequence  of  its  difficult  approach,  and  the  immense  labour  of 
bringing  up  their  siege  train  by  the  route  pursued  by  the  army,  it 
was  determined  to  make  the  harbour  of  Ealaklava  and  some  of  the 
small  bays  that  indent  the  coast  near  Cape  Chersonesus,  places  of 
rendezvous  for  the  fleet  and  depots  for  supplies.  In  pursuance  of  this 
determination,  the  army  followed  the  route  indicated  upon  the  map, 
by  way  of  Mackenzie's  Farm,  and  arrived,  on  the  27th  of  September, 
at  Balaklava.  Ai  ^Mackenzie's  Farm,  on  the  route.  Field  ^^larshal 
St.  Arnaud  issued  his  last  order,  in  which  he  took  formal  leave  of 
his  troops,  and  resigned  his  command  to  General  Canrobert. 

As  it  is  our  aim  to  give  a  connected  account  of  the  events  of  the 
war  in  the  fewest  possible  words,  we  avoid  all  attempts  to  describe 
the  battles  which  occurred,  and  also  reluctantly  omit  many  interest- 
ing anecdotes  connected  with  them. 

On  the  2Sth  of  September,  the  second  and  third  divisions  of  the 
British  army  moved  up  to  the  heights  above  Sevastopol,  Avhcre  they 
encamped.*  The  engineers  and  artillery  men  proceeded  at  once  to 
land  the  siege-guns,  and  on  the  29th  some  of  them  had  already  been 
dragged  up  the  heights  and  temporarily  placed  in  a  field  in  the  rear 
of  the  position  occupied  by  the  troops.  The  French  took  up  their 
position  t  near  the  sea,  having  selected  as  their  base  of  operations 
the  three  deep  bays  lying  between  Cape  Chersonesus  and  Sevasto- 
pol, where  they  had  the  advantage  of  disembarking  their  siege  train 
nearer  the  scene  of  action. 

**  Just  in  the  rear  of  the  point  marked  "  English  Xttack"  on  the  map. 
t  Vide  "  French  Attack,''  on  the  map. 


72 


The  Eastern  War. 


[January, 


Sevastopol 

t VICINITY 

£NLAf!G£:D 


The  forces  of  the  Allies,  when  in  positio»,  extoaded  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Tchcrnaya  to  the  sea  south  of  Sevastopol,  forming  a 
semi-circle  at  the  distance  of  about  two  miles  from  the  enemy's  works. 
The  fire  from  the  trenches  opened  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of 
October,  and  continued  with  slight  intermissions  until  the  25th,  on 
which  day  the  British  line  of  communication  was  attacked  by  Gen- 
eral Liprandi,  and  the  battle  of  Balaklava  was  fought,  in  which, 
though  the  Russians  were  repulsed,  the  British  lost  many  men,  and 
their  cavalry  especially  were  very  roughly  handled.  On  the  fifth  of 
November  a  most  determined  assault  Avas  made  by  the  Russians  on 
the  right  flank  of  the  besiegers.  The  attack  resulted  in  what  is 
known  as  the  battle  of  Inkcrmann,  in  which  the  Russians  were 
defeated  with  the  loss  of  ten  thousand  men,  while  the  Allies  had 
near  four  thousand  killed  and  wounded. 

The  attack  and  defence  were  conducted  during  the  winter  with 
equal  obstinacy,  though  the  Allies,  and  particularly  the  English, 
suffered  exceedingly  from  the  severity  of  the  weather,  and  the  want 
of  necessary  supplies.  The  ordinary  routine  of  siege  duty  was 
steadily  pursued  for  nearly  twelve  months,  relieved  by  occasional 
sallies  and  assaults,  which  had  no  decisive  result,  until  the  last 
desperate  attempt  of  the  Russians  to  raise  the  siege  by  attacking 
the  lincof  theTchernaya,  speedily  followed  by  the  successful  assault 
and  capture  of  the  place  itself. 

The  unexpected  duration  of  the  siege  of  Sevastopol  has  aston- 
ished the  world,  and  given  rise  to  many  strange  speculations,  and  the 
promulgation  of  many  marvellous  opinions.  Russian  sympathizers 
have  discerned  in  it  the  evidence  of  Russian  superiority  in  combat, 
and  unparalleled  skill  in  engineering.     ]Many  crude  opinions,  too. 


1856.]  The  Eastern  War.     ,  73 

have  been  hazarded  'with  regard  to  the  mysterious  nature  of  "  earth- 
works," as  though  these  \\ciq  some  Muscovite  discovery  in  the  art 
of  military  engineering,  which  would  entirely  revolutionize  the 
science  of  attack  and  defence  of  fortified  places.  Quackery  is  not 
confined  to  professors  of  the  healing  art.  We  may,  however,  safely 
assume  that  there  are  not  many  secrets  in  the  science  of  medicine 
or  of  war.  Wise  men  in  both  professions  laugh  at  such  pretensions. 
We  venture  the  opinion  that  the  siege  of  Sevastopol  was  protracted, 
not  because  of  the  unparalleled  skill  of  its  defenders,  much  less  of 
new  discoveries  which  they  had  made  in  the  art  of  defence,  but  solely 
because  the  besiegers  neglected  some  of  the  very  first  principles  laid 
down  by  the  gi-eat  instructors  in  the  Art  of  War. 

Marshal  Vauban,  the  highest  authority  on  this  subject  with  mili- 
tary men,  says,  in  his  "Atfaque  des  Places,''  "  The  success  of  tho 
assailants  will  depend  upon  several  things."  1.  "  The  investment  of  the 
place."  2.  "  On  the  amount  of  force  we  can  bring  to  the  attack.  In 
attacking  a  fortified  place  the  besieging  force  should  be  at  least  five 
times  as  numerous  as  the  garrison."  3.  "  On  the  superiority  of  the 
besiegers  in  artillery.  *  *  *  After  the  investment,  the  next  stop  is  to 
Bubdue  the  artillery  of  the  place."  Now  all  these  alleged  necessary 
conditions  of  success  seem  to  have  been  totally  disregarded  by  the 
Allies.  Sevastopol  has  not  been  "invested"  to  this  day.  From 
the  day  the  trenches  were  opened  to  the  hour  of  its  fall,  it  was  open 
to  the  north,  and  in  uninterrupted  communication  with  tho  Russian 
army  in  the  field.  The  required  superiority  in  the  besieging  force 
was  never  possessed  by  the  Allies,  for,  from  the  most  reliable 
accounts,  they  have  never  had,  at  the  ^most,  more  than  a  bare  equal- 
ity of  numbers.  The  old  marshal's  third  condition  has  been  equally 
disregarded.  "  To  subdue  the  artillery  of  the  place,"  is  held  to  be  a 
sine  qua  non  by  military  men,  which,  if  neglected,  can  only  be 
atoned  for  by  the  sacrifice  of  men.  But  if  the  reports  from  the 
Crimea  may  be  relied  upon,  Sevastopol  has  constantly  been  superior 
to  its  assailants  in  both  the  number  and  calibre  of  its  guns. 

Vauban  makes  the  success  of  an  attack  depend  on  several  other 
things ;  but  those  mentioned  are  sufficient  to  show  that  the  protracted 
defence  of  Sevastopol  may  be  accounted  for  without  assuming  any 
remarkable  discoveries  in  engineering  on  the  part  of  General  Todt- 
leben,  or  any  special  virtues  in  the  "  earthworks  "  thrown  up  under 
his  direction.  "  Earthworks  "  are  simply  ramparts  of  earth  thrown 
up  to  furnish  an  extempore  protection  when  time  is  wanted  to  erect 
more  durable  defences ;  and,  so  far  from  being  novelties,  they  were 
doubtless  the  earliest  method  resorted  to,  to  strengthen  a  position 
threatened  by  an  enemy. 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  YIII— 5 


!74  The  Eastei-n  War.  [January, 

-  Viewing  this  aflfair  in  all  its  aspects,  aided  by  all  the  information 
.-we  have  obtained,  we  are  compelled  to  regard  the  capture  of  Sevasto- 
•pol  as  the  most  wonderful  achievement  of  its  character  recorded  in 
the  history  of  war.  Places  of  equal  or  superior  strength  have  been 
taken  by  surprise,  or  reduced  by  rigid  investment ;  but  we  know  of 
no  place  of  equal  strength  which  has  ever  been  captured  by  regular 
siege,  when  unlimited  supplies  of  munitions  and  men  could  be 
thrown  into  it  at  pleasure.  We  are  immeasurably  surprised  that, 
under  the  circumstances,  the  place  was  ever  taken,  or  that  the  Rus- 
sians, after  the  experience  of  the  last  twelve  months,  and  especially 
of  the  impressive  lesson  taught  by  the  final  assault,  should  cherish 
the  hope  of  successfully  contending  with  the  Allies  in  the  open  field, 
when,  with  all  the  advantages  of  equal  or  superior  forces  at  hand, 
and  abundant  materiel  at  command,  they  have  been  unable  to 
defend  such  fortifications  as  surrounded  Sevastopol. 

With  regard  to  the  conduct  of  the  war,  should  it  continue,  it  is  nei- 
ther easy  nor  prudent  to  speak,  when  predictions  may  be  so  swiftly 
-contradicted  by  events.  But  at  the  present  date,  (JNovember  1,)  we 
cannot  doubt  that  the  Allies  will  operate  upon  the  left  flank  and  rear  of 
the  Russian  array  in  the  Crimea,  and  that  not  only  Sevastopol  north 
of  the  harbour  will  fall  without  a  bloAV,  but  that  the  power  of  Russia  in 
the  Crimea  will  be  broken,  and  her  army  disorganized  and  destroyed. 
Both  the  land  and  naval  forces  of  the  Allies,  which,  since  the  fall 
of  Sevastopol,  may  be  employed  elsewhere,  are  already  operating 
against  other  important  positions  within  striking  distance;  and 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Kherson  and  NikolaiefF  will  receive 
their  early  attention.  The  former  contains  over  one  hundred  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  according  to  some  authorities,  and  is  an  important 
naval  station.  At  its  magnificent  dock-yards  the  greater  part  of 
the  late  Black  Sea  fleet  was  built.  The  latter  is  comparatively  a 
new  city,  but  it  is  the  seat  of  an  admiralty,  and  a  point  of  con- 
•^iderable  political  importance.  Odessa  is  also  an  accessible  point, 
which  must  be  strongly  garrisoned  to  preserve  it  from  the  grasp  of 
the  Allies.  The  conflict  must,  at  least  for  a  period,  be  carried  on 
.greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Russians.  Having  the  entire 
command  of  the  sea,  with  abundant  facilities  for  transportation,  the 
Allies  can  select  their  own  point  of  attack,  at  which  they  may  rapidly 
concentrate  an  overwhelming  force,  while  the  necessity  of  defending 
BO  many  exposed  positions  must  make  the  Russians  weak  at  any 
given  point,  and  expose  thcra  to  successive  assault  and  defeat. 
Unless,  therefore,  we  adopt  the  incredible  supposition  that  Russia 
is  capable  of  raising  and  supporting  an  army  numerous  enough  to 
garrison  each  of  her  exposed  positions  with  a  force  strong  enough  to 


1656.]  The  Easteiii  War.  76 

repel  the  concentrated  strength  of  the  Allies,  we  see  not  how  the 
war  can  be  carried  on  to  her  advantage.  She  must  suffer;  and, 
unless  she  take  counsel  of  discretion,  she  will  ultimately  be 
exhausted  in  the  struggle. 

The  basis  recognised  in  the  "  Vienna  note,"  rejected  by  Russia, 
must  finally  be  that  upon  which  peace  will  be  restored ;  and  the 
Czar  must  consent  at  least  to  abandon  his  protectorate  of  the  Princi- 
palities, and  limit  his  power  in  the  Black  Sea. 

The  world  is  looking  with  breathless  interest  upon  this  gigantic 
struggle  between  the  Allies  and  the  Colossus  of  the  JMorth;  but  the 
true-hearted  friends  of  humanity  everywhere,  and  especially  every 
American,  must  sympathize  with  England  and  France  in  the  con- 
flict. If  the  .Russians  should  eventually  be  successful,  the  Testa- 
ment of  Peter,  the  Visions  of  Catharine,  and  the  cherished  dreams 
of  the  Russian  people  will  all  be  realized.  Before  the  death  of 
Nicholas  it  is  said  he  had  already  selected  and  educated  the  future 
commanders  of  "the  army  of  Constantinople,"  "the  army  of 
India,"  &c. :  and  the  marcTi  of  events  for  the  last  century  and  a 
half  demonstrates  the  steady  determination  of  Ptussia  to  be  satisfied 
with  nothing  short  of  continental  supremacy  and  control.  Iler  suc- 
cess in  her  designs  upon  Turkey  would  arrest  the  march  of  civiliza- 
tion and  religion,  and  throw  back  for  centuries  the  disenthrallracnt 
of  the  nations.  AVhatever,  therefore,  may  be  the  designs  of  the 
emperor  of  France  or  the  ministry  of  England,  we  think  the  Allies 
are  really  fighting  for  the  cause  of  freedom  and  religion;  and 
that,  unconsciously  perhaps,  they  are  accomplishing  the  mer- 
ciful designs  of  Providence  with  respect  to  the  enlightenment 
of  the  race.  Russia  is  inert  and  feeble  for  purposes  of  aggression. 
Her  vast  extent  of  territory,  her  sparse  population,  and  her  want  of 
facilities  for  easy  and  rapid  transportation,  make  it  impossible  for 
her  suddenly  to  assail  any  of  her  neighbours.  Give  her  Constan- 
tinople and  ready  access  to  the  Mediterranean  and  these  disabilities 
cease.  Give  her  the  liberty  to  build  ships  and  gather  a  navy  in  the 
Bosphorus,  and  refresh  and  discipline  her  legions  on  its  shores,  and  she 
at  once  becomes  potential  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  holds  the  helm 
of  the  eastern  hemisphere.  It  is  one  thing  to  march  an  army  from 
Moscow  or  St.  Petersburgh  upon  India,  Asia  Minor,  or  Europe, 
across  interminable  steppes  or  through  the  rugged  passes  of  the 
Caucasus,  and  quite  another  to  launch  it  suddenly  as  a  bolt  from 
heaven,  fresh  and  vigorous,  from  the  barracks  of  Stamboul. 

But  aside  from  political  reasons,  if  we  can  suppose  the  nations 
to  be  moved  by  motives  of  justice  or  equity,  the  Allies  are 
fully  justified  in  interposing  in  behalf  of  Turkey.     We  have  an 


76  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January', 

unshaken  belief  in  the  righteousness  of  the  abstract  doctrine  of 
"intervention."  A  strong  nation  is  under  as  clear  an  obligation  to 
interpose  in  behalf  of  a  weak  one,  threatened  with  injury  or  ruin,  as 
a  strong  man  is  to  interpose  in  behalf  of  a  weak  one  when  assaulted 
by  one  stronger  than  himself.  Nations  should  be  the  subjects  of 
law  as  well  as  individuals ;  and  the  one  has  no  more  right  to  resort 
to  violence  than  the  other.  And  if  a  strong  nation  shows  a  disposi- 
tion to  disregard  national  law, — to  play  the  invader  and  violate  the 
rights  of  its  weaker  neighbour, — it  becomes  the  common  interest  and 
duty  of  other  nations  to  rebuke  her  and  protect  the  party  assailed, 
just  as  it  is  the  duty  of  society  to  protect  its  members  from  unlaw- 
ful violence,  and  to  rebuke  the  swaggering  bully. 

The  conflict  between  the  Allies  and  Russia  has  been  well  called 
a  conflict  between  civilization  and  barbarism.  The  outposts  of  the 
Russian  Empire  pushed  to  Constantinople  would  be  another  wave 
of  that  dark  sea  which  has,  more  than  once  from  the  same  direction, 
swept  over  Western  Europe.  We  deprecate  this  result  as  the  most 
disastrous  event  that  could  occur  to  civilization,  to  freedom,  or  to 
Christianity. 


Art.  IV.— remains  OF  LATIN  TRAGEDY. 

Tragicorum  Latinorum  ReliquicE.    Rccensuit  Otto  Ribbeck.    Lipsiae.  Suniptibus 
et  Formis  B.  G.  Teubneri.     MDCCCLII.     1  vol.  Svo.     pp.  442. 

It  is  a  very  natural  inquiry  on  the  first  inspection  of  this  volume,  or  of 
any  similar  collection  of  ancient  fragments,  to  ask,  What  is  the  use 
of  such  an  aggregation  of  mutilated  relics,  and  what  healthy  nour- 
ishment can  be  expected  from  a  meal  off  such  tough,  broken,  and 
indigestible  victuals '?  The  question  is  easily  asked,  and  forces  itself 
'Bpontaneously  on  the  mind.  A  satisfactory  answer  docs  not  present 
itself  quite  so  readily ;  and  yet  such  an  answer  may  be  given,  and 
had  probably  been  conceived  in  even  an  exaggerated  form  before  the 
labour  of  gathering,  arranging,  methodizing,  and  cleansing  these 
antiquated  remnants  was  undertaken. 

Here,  in  one  moderate- sized  volume,  of  which  the  text  occupies 
only  the  fourth  part,  or  thereabouts,  are  brought  together  all  the 
scattered  relics  of  early  Roman  tragedy.  Here  are  all  the  rags  and 
shreds  which  have  been  preserved  of  the  singing  robes  of  some  thirty- 
eight  or  forty  Roman  tragedians.  They  furnish  forth  a  curious 
wardrobe  of  tattered  garments.     Nowhere  is  either  a  single  breadth 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  77 

of  cloth  or  pattern  of  the  piece  entire,  but  the  scanty  patches  are 
eufficiently  numerous  to  affortl  adequate  specimens  of  the  texture  of 
the  fabric. 

The  whole  long  course  of  Latin  literature  has  been  diligently 
e.xamincd  and  forked  over,  and  then  strained  through  the  fine  sieve 
of  critical  acumen,  to  separate  from  the  general  soil  the  particles  of 
crystal  which  are  here  strung  together  with  an  ingenious  effort  to 
introduce  order  into  the  midst  of  chaos,  and  to  restore  some  appear- 
ance of  symmetry  to  a  dismembered  and  dissipated  organism. 
The  shivered  bones,  the  desiccated  muscles,  the  chords,  and  sinews, 
and  fine  dust  of  organizations,  once  complete  in  themselves,  but  now 
represented  merely  by  blanched  and  mouldy  splinters,  are  collected 
with  a  careful  and  tender  hand,  and  decently  laid  out  with  a  well- 
intended  ingenuity,  and  with  a  solicitous  anxiety  to  recompose  the 
features  of  the  dead  from  the  scanty  shreds  of  the  several  anatomies 
which  can  still  be  found.  It  is  a  very  inellicient  and  bungling 
attempt  at  resurrection,  but  is  a  fitting  prelude  to  a  decent  burial, 
and  renders  us  capable  of  fully  appreciating  the  funeral  service,  and 
the  general  character  of  the  deceased. 

Is  it  within  the  compass  of  even  the  richest  imagination  to  accom- 
plish or  even  to  fancy  the  reunion,  under  a  symmetrical  and  living 
form,  of  these  dry  bones  from  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat — to  replace  in 
•their  due  positions  in  the  skeleton  these  commingled  fragments  of 
matter  once  entire  and  animated,  and  to  breathe  into  the  heaps  of  dead, 
and  shattered,  and  long  putrescent  limbs  the  vital  air  and  warmth  of 
their  original  semblance?  The  condensed  commentary,  {Quastio- 
num  Scenicarum  Mantissa,)  appended  to  the  text  in  this  volume,  will 
prove  the  earnest  assiduity  with  which  this  task  has  been  under- 
taken, and  may  illustrate  the  degree  and  extent  of  the  success  which 
is  still  attainable  in  this  wilderness  of  possible  imaginations.  We 
must  confess,  however,  that  in  all  such  enterprises  we  cannot  wholly 
escape  the  impression  that  we  behold  the  blind  leading  the  blind. 

Qui  sibi  scmitam  non  sapiunt,  alteri  monstrant  viara.^ 
Does  it  not  seem,  on  the  first  consideration,  the  vainest  of  all  vain 
hopes,  to  evoke  the  secrets  of  life  from  the  dust  and  ashes  of  the 
dead — to  pretend  to  recall  features  which  have  never  been  seen  in 
the  memory  of  man,  and  of  which  no  delineation  has  been  transmit- 
ted to  us — to  revive  images  of  beings,  crushed,  buried,  and  crumbled 
into  dust,  and  known  only  by  the  little  portions  of  bone  and  sinew 
still  discernible  amid  the  dust?  Does  it  not  seem  the  wildest  of  all 
wild  imaginations  to  conjecture  the  past  form  and  outline  of  a  body, 
"  Ennii  Telamo.     Fr.  IL,  v.  274,  p.  4.3.  Ribbeck. 


78*  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January,. 

■when  no  individual  of  the  species,  no  imitation,  and  no  similitude 
has  been  perpetuated  in  its  integrity,  or  even  in  any  considerable 
part?  All  the  bones  are  broken  and  imperfect,  and  all  the  articu- 
lations lost,  of  the  skeleton  which  -we  would  recomposc.  Yet  the  task 
has  been  attempted  again  and  again,  though  rarely  with  such  unfa- 
vourable materials  as  Otto  Ribbeck  operates  on  ;  and  labours  of  this 
sort,  desperate  as  they  appear  to  be,  are  not  limited  to  the  resuscita- 
tion and  reorganization  of  classical  remains,  but  had  been  previ- 
ously applied  with  singular  felicity  to  the  more  difficult  subjects  of 
antediluvian  creation. 

The  aims  of  the  geological  paleontologist  and  of  the  philologist 
who  endeavours  to  methodize  the  fragments  of  classical  antiquity 
are,  in  many  respects,  closely  analogous.  Both  propose  to  recon- 
etruct  the  original  forms  by  the  assistance  of  the  indications  afforded 
by  the  mutilated  parts  which  are  still  accessible.  Both  contemplate 
the  artificial  and  artistical  arrangement  of  the  relics  in  the  order  in 
which  nature,  or  creative  art,  which  is  the  simular  of  nature,  had 
originally  combined  them.  Both  supply  by  sagacious  and  scientific 
conjecture  the  missing  links  which  complete  the  skeleton,  and 
explain  the  position  and  probable  purpose  of  the  bleached  and  time- 
eaten  parts  which  form  the  only  substantial  materials  for  the  whole 
imaginary  construction.  Both  call  into  requisition  like  talents,  and 
seek  the  achievement  of  like  results.  Both  subdue  imagination,. 
though  in  unequal  degrees,  to  the  functions  and  sobriety  of  science  ; 
and,  by  cautious  procedure  in  this  course,  consolidate  dreams  into 
realities.  Whatever  success  may  attend  their  ingenious  conjectures, 
we  may,  however,  derive  a  profitable  warning  from  a  caution  found 
among  the  fragments  at  present  submitted  to  our  notice :  — 
Aliquot  sunt  vera  somnia,  et  non  omnia  est  necesse." 

Of  the  two  classes  of  conjectural  restorers  of  extinct  forms,  the 
geologist  has,  in  some  respects,  much  the  more  arduous  task.  Tie 
must  complete  the  anatomy  which  he  handles  ;  ho  must  imagine  and 
delineate  anew  all  that  is  wanting.  Every  absent  bone,  and  claw, 
and  osseous  process  must  be  conceived  and  represented,  not  arbitra- 
rily, but  with  a  strict  regard  to  the  pregnant  though  but  slightly 
indicated  signs  Avhich  may  be  detected  in  the  fossil  antiquity  in  his 
"hands,  llow  latent,  how  trivial,  or  how  effectual  those  indications 
may  be,  it  is  not  our  concern  to  exhibit  at  present.  The  internal 
composition  of  the  bone  may  suffice  for  the  determination  of  the  type 
of  the  animal,  or  the  foliation  of  the  ivory  as  revealed  by  the  micro- 
Scope  in  the  section  of  a  tooth  may  suggest  the  shape  and  arrange- 

**  Ennius.    Inccrti  nominis  Rcliquiao.     Fr.  LVL,  v.  401,  p.  61.   Ribbeck. 


1856.3  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  79 

ment  of  all  the  other  parts.  But  this  belongs  to  the  details  and 
method  of  the  procedure,  not  simply  to  its  essential  character.  What- 
ever significances  are  employed,  it  is  exacted  cf  the  speculative 
geologist,  that  the  forms,  the  proportions,  the  cumbinations  of  the 
conjectural  bones,  shall  correspond  truly  -u-ith  the  isolated  tibia  or 
clavicle,  and  explain  the  full  meaning  of  these ;  and  that  the  'uhole 
ehall  be  put  together  in  such  a  manner  that  the  eye  of  science  may 
be  compelled  to  recognise,  and  the  reason  of  science  to  admit,  that 
an  animal  with  such  a  skeleton  could  have  lived,  and  moved,  and 
pursued  its  prey,  and  digested  its  food,  carnal  or  herbaceous,  and 
spent  with  ease,  and  comfort,  and  propriety,  its  natural  career 
on  earth.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  put  together  the  bones,  real  or 
imaginary,  without  interval  or  confusion,  like  the  ivory  pieces  of  the 
Chinese  puzzle ;  but  all  the  harmonies  of  life,  secret  or  apparent, 
must  be  maintained,  and  the  organic  instruments  for  suitable  action 
and  for  the  complete  discharge  of  the  appropriate  animal  functions 
must  be  truthfully  supplied. 

Much  of  this  exact  fidelity  and  complicated  labour  is  remitted  to 
the  philologist.  He  only  proposes  to  establish  the  logical  and  the  chro- 
nological succession  of  parts;  and  enjoys,  moreover,  the  inestimable 
privilege  of  travelling  without  comment,  around  all  insuperable  or 
provoking  difficulties,  by  an  indefinite  adjournment  of  the  required 
solution.  He  is  not  compelled  to  provide  all  the  links  of  connexion  in 
their  perfect  order,  in  their  separate  parts,  and  in  their  complex 
arrangement ;  but  only  to  produce  a  thread  strong  enough  to  sup- 
port the  beads  with  which  he  plays  and  to  string  them  on  such  a 
thread,  so  that  it  may  be  possible  v,'ithsome  verisimilitude  to  suppose 
them  to  have  primitively  manifested  a  somewhat  similar  arrangement. 
Brief  articulations,  having  the  merit  of  possibility,  or  the  still  higher 
excellence  of  plausibility,  arc  all  that  are  exacted  at  the  hands  of  the 
critical  archaeologist,  and  the  whole  domain  of  the  conjectural  and 
the  imaginable  is  thrown  open  for  the  divagations  of  his  fancy.  It 
is  not  indispensable  that  he  should  be  absolutely  right  in  his  sugges- 
tions and  delineations  ;  it  is  only  necessary  that  he  should  escape 
being  obviously  wrong,  and  avoid  all  ordinary  chances  of  being  con- 
victed of  positive  ignorance  or  blundering.  Loose,  too,  as  is  the 
rein  under  which  his  course  is  run,  even  that  ho  can  shake  off  when- 
ever it  becomes  irksome ;  he  can  leave  the  track  and  abandon  the 
race  wherever  the  ground  is  treacherous  beneath  his  feet,  or  the 
effort  too  arduous  for  his  strength. 

But  if  the  philologist  is  obedient  to  a  milder  law  than  that  which 
controls  the  speculations  of  the  pakcontologist,  the  latter  has  some 
peculiar  advantages  which  are  denied  to  the  former.     If  the  forms 


80  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

©f  the  particular  organizations  which  the  archjeologist  of  nature 
geeks  to  reconstruct  are  no  longer  known  to  the  experience  of  men, 
careful  inductions  and  the  profound  researches  of  comparative  anat- 
omy have,  at  least,  revealed  all  the  most  important  conditions  of  the 
modifications  of  animal  life,  and  have  determined  the  agreement  of 
parts,  their  mutual  dependence,  or  rather  their  reciprocal  relations — 
the  proportions  between  them,  and  their  interdependent  forms. 
Thus  each  part  is  already  known  to  be  a  significant  index  of  all  the 
rest,  and  the  character  and  range  of  those  significances  have  also 
been  already  determined  in  great  measure  by  science.  INIoreover, 
though  in  many  instances  complete  types  of  extinct  existences  may 
no  longer  be  found,  partial  types,  exhibiting  the  separate  elements 
of  all  the  combinations  of  organic  forms  are  still  within  our  reach ; 
and  perfect,  or  nearly  perfect  skeletons  of  some  of  the  most  singular 
and  anomalous  specimens  of  extinct  organization  have  been  found 
imbedded  in  the  earth.  The  philologist  is,  to  a  very  great  extent, 
denied  any  similar  aid.  For  him  there  is  no  distinct  canon  of 
nature  settled  in  its  parts,  and  laws,  and  elementary  forms,  though 
variable  in  their  combinations  and  adaptations.  In  the  productions 
of  literature — in  the  creations  of  artistic  imagination — neither  is 
the  whole  necessarily  determined  by  the  separate  fragmentary  parts, 
nor  are  the  parts  altogether  correspondent  with  each  other.  Genius 
operates  under  a  law  of  freedom,  and  not  like  nature,  under  a  law 
of  regular  and  uniform  development.  Hence,  when  the  form  in 
which  genius  moulded  its  creations  has  once  been  broken,  it  is 
broken  forever;  and  no  exemplar  is  perpetuated  as  an  heirloom  for 
after  ages.  Like  the  plianix,  it  produces  but  one  at  a  birth,  and 
transfuses  its  whole  life  into  its  single  progeny.  The  type  is  always 
limited  in  its  full  characteristics  to  the  solitary  individual,  and  when 
the  life  of  that  individual  has  been  destroyed,  for  it  there  is  no  resur- 
rection, and  rarely  the  possibility  of  a  transmitted  image.  So  far 
as  the  earlier  Latin  tragedy  is  concerned,  no  complete  summary,  or 
skeleton,  or  representation  of  the  forms  and  con,ibination3,  v,-hich 
delighted  or  surprised  the  learned  or  lettered  of  ancient  Rome,  has 
yet  been  discovered  among  the  moths,  and  worms,  and  dirt,  and 
dust,  and  mouldy  paper  and  conglomerated  rubbish  of  the  antiquated 
libraries  of  Europe. 

Fortunately  for  their  modern  appreciation,  the  Roman  tragedies 
were  not  strictly  the  productions  of  genius,  but  in  the  main  the  art- 
manufactures  of  imitative  industry.  Nevertlicless  the  hope  of  even 
partially  or  plausibly  receiving  the  semblance  of  ancient  Latin 
tragedy  would  be  empty  indeed,  but  for  three  favouring  circum- 
Btances.     The  miscellaneous  writers  of  Rome  do  not  merely  pre- 


1856,]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  81 

servo  quotations  from  the  earlier  tragedians,  like  flies  in  amber,  or 
more  frequently  like  fossils  in  concretionary  rock ;  but  they  afford 
numerous  passing  illustrations  of  the  character  of  the  dramatists  and 
their  dramas.  In  the  works  of  Seneca  we  still  possess  several  per- 
fect specimens  of  the  later  Latin  tragedy,  which,  by  comparison 
with  the  information  on  this  subject  to  be  obtained  elsewhere,  we 
find  to  possess  a  strong  family  resemblance  to  their  predecessors. 
In  the  literature  of  Greece  we  have  numerous  complete  tragedies, 
and  a  copious  profusion  of  the  fragments  of  others,  v.hich  we  know 
to  liave  been  imitated,  pillaged,  and  translated  by  the  tragic  drama- 
tists of  Rome.  There  were  few  departments  of  Latin  literature 
which  had  any  extensive  or  valid  pretensions  to  originality,  or  which 
avoided  the  blame  of  bold,  bare-faced,  unblushing,  imbecile  plagiar- 
ism; and  we  are  well-assured  that  neither  the  tragedy  nor  the 
comedy  of  the  Romans  was  one  of  its  manifestations  which  was  free 
from  this  censure. 

These  considerations  almost  compensate  the  philologist  for  the 
superior  advantages  attributed  to  his  fellow-labourer  whose  business 
it  is  to  pry  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  exhume  the  bones,  and 
ekelctons,  and  casts  of  defunct  beasts  and  races  of  beasts,  and 
recompose  the  forgotten  types  of  animate  existence.  They  more 
than  compensate  for  them  when  we  take  into  the  estimation  the  less 
exacting  laws  under  which  the  philological  paheontologist  pursues 
his  investigations.  Still  the  processes  employed  by  both  classes  of 
inquirers  are  strikingly  analogous ;  and  vrc  cannot  refrain  from 
assigning  to  the  brilliant  example  of  geological  successes  much  of 
the  new-born  zeal  which  has  recently  been  displayed  in  the  detec- 
tion, collection,  purification,  and  ordination  of  ancient  fragments. 
We  do  not  remember  any  such  compilation  anterior  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  century.  The  broken  crumbs  which  could  be  claimed 
for  authors  of  whom  we  possessed  complete  works  had  been  previ- 
ously compiled ;  and  this  had  been  done  with  much  care  and  fidelity 
in  the  case  of  the  most  distinguished  writers.  Bentley,  about  a 
century  earlier,  had  contemplated  the  prepai'ation  and  co-adunation 
of  the  dramatic  fragments  of  Greece,  but  he  never  realized  his 
purpose;  and  no  complete  body  of  special  fragments — no  copious 
aggregation  of  all  the  broken  bread  and  tough  crusts  of  a  particular 
leaven — had,  to  our  knowledge,  been  achieved  before  the  beginning 
of  the  current  generation.  Now  there  are  numerous  compilations 
of  the  kind— every  branch  of  literature  has  its  well-stuffed  rag-bag — 
and  it  is  scarcely  possible  any  longer,  by  the  perusal  of  scholiasts, 
lexicographers,  or  grammarians,  to  stumble  across  a  genuine  relic  of 
antiquity  which  has  not  been  already  picked  up,  inserted  in  some 


82  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [Januaiy, 

cabinet  of  old  bones,  and  incorporated  into  some  corpus  deperdi- 
toi'um,  or  refuge  of  the  lost. 

The  scope  of  Meinhcrr  llibbeck's  labours  has  permitted  him  to 
dispense  with  any  assistance  ■which  the  tragedies  of  Seneca  might 
have  afforded  him.  His  collection  is  a  critical  and  philological — 
not  an  tcsthctical,  or  in  any  very  liberal  sense,  an  exegetical  exposi- 
tion of  the  carcass  of  Roman  tragedy.  The  sanctimonious  purifi- 
cation of  the  several  texts,  the  scrupulous  ostentation  of  archaisms, 
the  collation  of  readingj  and  comparison  of  manuscript  variations, 
and  the  true  antiquarian  avidity  to  rescue  from  oblivion  or  foreign 
association  every  fragment  of  this  particular  class  of  antiquities, 
and  to  introduce  it  into  his  cabinet  of  damaged  curiosities,  are  his 
chief  aims  in  this  volume.  His  secondary  purpose,  which  is,  how- 
ever, pursued  with  equal  diligence,  is  to  replace  the  fragments  in 
their  due  sequence,  or  in  that  succession  which  his  taste,  his  judg- 
ment, his  imagination,  or  his  laborious  industry  has  suggested  as 
having  possibly  been  their  pristine  order ;  to  exhibit  their  original 
purport  and  relations ;  to  combine  them  with  the  soft  and  easily- 
worked  cement  of  conjecture ;  and  to  trace  their  obligations  to  Greek 
prototypes.  "We  will  not  call  in  question  the  skill  and  dexterity 
which  attend  him  throughout  the  course  of  his  slow  and  lumbering 
procedure ;  but  his  rough  and  rugged  utterance,  his  pedantry,  and 
his  affected  graces,  very  eflectually  obscure  or  conceal  the  talents 
which  he  may  have  applied  to  the  execution  of  his  undertaking. 
He  is  full  of  airs  and  grimaces,  and  these  are  curiously  travestied 
when  rendered  into  Latin.  There  is  a  quaint  whimsicality  in  his 
expression ;  there  is  a  ludicrous  attempt  to  unite  dignity  and 
humor,  levit}'  and  sarcasm  ;  but  the  dignity,  like  Mr.  Turveydrop's 
deportment,  is  amusing,  and  the  humour  is  not — the  levity  is  too 
ponderous,  and  the  sarcasm  wants  point  and  perspicuity — two 
important  requisites  of  wit.  Like  the  satyrs  of  the  tragedy  which 
he  attempts  to  illustrate,  he  has  rashly  ventured  into  an  unfamiliar 
walk : — 

"  Asper 
Incolumi  gravitate  jocum  tentavit." 

But  if  the  asperity  is  apparent,  the  joke  is  indiscernible ;  and  if  his 
gravity  is  maintained,  his  reader's  is  lost;  but  the  laugh  unfortun- 
ately is  not  at  the  jest,  but  at  the  solemn  countenance  with  which  it 
is  restrained.  From  these  and  other  causes  the  Latinity  of  M.  Rib- 
beck  is  as  rigid,  and  starched,  and  stately  as  a  robe  of  old-fashioned 
brocade — the  papyrus  rattles  as  we  read.  His  language  is  a  mosaic 
of  pieces  of  stained  glass,  put  together  with  an  intricate  precision 
which  bewilders  the  eye  and  fatigues  the  attention.     It  is  much  too 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  83 

grandiose  and  glaring  for  our  taste  and  often  for  our  comprehension, 
and  sounds  more  like  the  prize  declamation  of  a  Ciceronian  sophis- 
ter  than  as  if  meant  to  contain  a  serious  meaning  and  convey 
information.  It  is  too  fine  and  not  sufficiently  intelligible.  It  may 
win  golden  smiles  and  commendations  from  the  unsolicitous  because 
unappreciating  multitude — it  may  gain  the  applause  of  pedants  ^Tho 
would  gladly  imitate  it — but  to  those  who  desire  sense  rather  than 
sound,  and  instruction  rather  than  display,  and  especially  than  inef- 
fectual display,  it  will  appear  intolerable.  In  a  general  way  the 
Latin  of  German  commentators  is  not  pleasant  reading.  Their 
ideas  linger  languidly  along  in  undulating  volumes,  like  the  smoke 
which  curls  from  their  meerschaums ;  their  sentences  imitate  this 
involution  and  partake  of  this  tedious  continuity  till  they  straggle, 
like  a  cobweb,  over  two  or  three  pages;  and  their  phrases  tumble 
heavily  along,  suffering  from  all  manner  of  dislocations.  To  read 
such  Latin  after  perusing  the  clear,  sharp,  quick  utterance  of  the 
classics  is  a  sufficiently  melancholy  employment :  but  when  a  Dutch 
commentator  tries  to  write  finely,  as  Kibbeck  docs,  and  to  embroider 
euphemisms  with  Latin  thread  on  a  Dutch  canvass,  he  becomes  in- 
supportable while  ceasing  to  be  intelligible.  The  preface  and  com- 
mentary of  Ilibbeck  are  but  too  obvious  to  this  criticism ;  for  his 
Latin  is  as  offensive  as  the  English  of  Dr.  Parr,  Barker  of  Thetford, 
or  Hoadley,  and,  in  some  degree,  from  the  same  cause.  It  is  too 
fine.  Eut  v.hile  reprehending  the  expression  employed  in  the  com- 
mentary, we  must  approve  tlic  diligence  and  industry  with  which 
M.  Ilibbeck  has  collected  and  exposed  the  materials  which  it  con- 
tains. There  is  too  much  disposition  to  embrace  as  good  spoil  all 
that  is  encompassed  by  his  net ;  but,  in  the  few  lines  of  investiga- 
tion contemplated  by  the  Mantissa  we  must  complain  of  the  exuber- 
ance rather  than  of  any  deficiency  of  materials — and  it  assuredly 
would  be  fastidious  hypercriticism  to  grumble  at  an  excess  in  this 
particular. 

In  all  parts  of  his  task,  Ribbeck,  or  Mr.  Ribbeck,  according  to 
the  fashion  adopted  by  English  literati  in  designating  German  schol- 
ars, has  had  abundant  assistance  from  previous  explorers  in  the 
same  path,  whose  investigations  and  imaginations  he  has  faithfully 
and  sometimes  maliciously  appreciated :  but  he  has  been  especially 
indebted  to  his  predecessors  in  that  division  of  his  inquiries  which 
is  devoted  to  the  illustration  of  the  dependence  of  the  Roman  on 
the  Greek  tragedians.  With  the  perseverance,  fidelity,  and  perti- 
nacity of  a  slouth-hound  he  has  tracked  the  Latins,  on  every  possi- 
ble occasion,  and  almost  at  every  turn,  to  their  Attic  masters.  He 
has  thus  furnished  abundant,  ready,  and  convenient  proof  of  what 


84  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

has  long  "been  known  as  a  general  ti-uth,  that  the  Latin  tragedy,  in 
its  earliest  as  well  as  in  its  latest  forms,  was  only  a  faint,  feeble, 
flashy,  and  servile  imitation  of  Greek  originals.  How  feeble  or  how 
servile  it  was  can  scarcely  be  discovered  at  this  late  day — though, 
with  the  copious  array  of  examples  here  supplied,  there  is  more 
danger  of  exaggerating  than  of  underrating  its  feebleness.  How 
slavish  it  was,  not  merely  in  general  outline  or  occasional  concep- 
tions, but  in  its  whole  tenor,  in  its  most  minute  subdivisions,  and  in 
verbal  composition,  may  be  very  fully  seen  in  the  miiTor  presented 
by  Otto  Ribbeck. 

A  large  portion  of  the  relics  secured  from  the  v^-reck  of  ages 
exhibits  a  pure  transcription  from  the  Greek.  Horace  rather 
announced  the  prevailing  practice  than  oiiginated  a  precept  or  gave 
expression  to  a  rule  of  art  in  his  celebrated  recommendation  to  his 
countrymen — 

"Vos  cxemplaria  Grseca 
Nocturna  versate  manu,  versate  diurna." 

There  was  no  more  need  of  giving  any  such  instruction  to  the  Latin 
dramatists  than  of  preaching  to  a  corps  of  professors  and  practi- 
tioners of  grand  and  petty  larceny  on  the  policy  of  never  stealing 
empty  purses  when  full  ones  are  to  be  obtained,  and  of  taking  gold 
watches  in  preference  to  pinchbeck.  Every  rascal  among  the 
Roman  tragedians  had  already,  with  diligent  exclusiveness,  plun- 
dered and  cribbaged — (convey,  the  wise  it  call!) — everything  that 
was  transportable  from  the  copious  literature  of  Greece.  In  modern 
times  a  high  Ksthctic  meaning  has  been  habitually  assigned  to 
Horace's  recommendation :  he  has  been  generously  supposed  to 
have  held  up  high  models  of  art  for  the  cultivation  of  the  taste  and 
the  chastening  of  the  genius  of  his  countrymen.  "We  may  not  have 
done  too  much  honour  to  the  didactic  poet,  but  we  certainly  do  give 
too  much  credit  to  his  audience  by  such  an  interpretation.  They 
had  the  Greeks  already  in  their  hands  :  and  vrith  their  rapacious 
fingers  were  tearing  out  passage  after  passage  and  scene  after  scene, 
to  be  transferred  or  translated  into  their  own  works  of  original  Roman 
genius.  To  go  no  further  for  an  illustration,  one  of  the  longest 
fragments  in  this  collection,  the  opening  lines  of  the  ^ledea  of 
Ennius,  is  a  literal  transcript  from  the  commencement  of  the  Medea 
of  Euripides.  This  is  merely  one  convenient  instance  selected  out 
of  many,  when  nearly  every  fragment  furnishes  a  new  example  of 
the  literary  insolvency  of  the  Romans.  The  debtor  side  of  the 
account  is  very  fully  exhibited  in  the  commentaries  of  Ribbeck; 
and  it  may  be  safely  said  that  there  were  but  very  few  credits,  and 


1856.]  Remains  of  Liatin  Tragedy.  85 

vrould  have  been  much  fewer  had  not  most  of  the  Greek  vouchers 
of  Roman  indebtedness  been  lost. 

We  arc  thus  enabled  to  perceive  how  completely  this,  like  most  other 
branches  of  Roman  literature,  was  a  reproduction  of  Greek  genius. 
The  whole  truth,  or  nearly  the  whole  truth,  is  revealed  to  us  at  a 
sin;^le  glance.  It  was  not  merely  an  imitation,  for  it  did  not  recur 
to  Greece  only  for  examples,  or  models,  or  occasional  embellish- 
ments, but  it  sought  its  plans,  its  plots,  its  frame-work,  its  materials 
from  that  source.  Every  stick  of  timber  in  the  skeleton  of  the 
tragic  drama  of  Rome  was  brought  from  the  stately  teiDplcs  of 
Greek  art.  The  native  brilliancy  and  freshness  were  rubbed  off,  the 
Gne  carving  was  pared  away,  the  gilding  was  defaced,  and  evcr}'- 
thing  was  lacquered  over  with  the  coarse  colours  of  the  Roman  shop; 
but  still  the  original  substance  was  retained,  and  sufficient  traces  of 
its  former  state  were  left  to  render  the  theft  or  the  violent  appropri- 
ation apparent.  True,  the  Roman  dramatists  acknowledged  and 
gloried  in  the  theft :  they  had  little  native  wealth  of  their  own  to 
gratify  their  vanity  or  pride,  and  they  vaunted  the  dexterity  and 
success  with  which  they  had  transferred  to  themselves  the  posses- 
sions of  their  more  richly  endowed  neighbours.  It  was  just  such  an 
exploit  as  might  have  won  the  applause  of  listening  rogues,  if  per- 
formed upon  more  material  articles  of  property,  and  narrated  in  the 
back  alleys  and  subterranean  tenements  frequented  by  the  pick- 
pockets and  light-fingered  gentry  of  London  or  New- York. 

The  fragments  of  Latin  tragedy  still  preserved,  show,  even  in 
their  hopeless  mutilation,  how  closely  the  tragedians  adhered  in  the 
general  outline  to  the  plan,  and  in  the  separate  parts  to  the  spirit  and 
e.xpression,  but  not  to  the  grace,  of  their  teachers.  The  principle  on 
which  their  aberrations  from  the  text  seems  to  have  been  conducted, 
was  a  singularly  awkward  device.  They  rarely  followed  throughout, 
and  apparently  only  in  the  earliest  times,  the  entire  development  of 
the  particular  tragedy  which  they  selected  as  their  model,  or  borrowed 
as  their  groundwork.  Instead  of  pursuing  so  plain  a  course,  they 
blended  different  tragedies  together,  mixing  up  different  legends, 
different  religious  dogmas,  and  inconsistent  materials ;  and  they 
completed  their  fabric  by  a  patchwork  process,  forming  only  rubble- 
vrork,  though  many  of  the  most  precious  and  exquisite  pieces  of 
Greek  antiquity  were  broken  up  to  fill  an  angle,  and  awkwardly 
introduced  into  the  masonry.  A  Latin  tragedy  was  built  like  a 
Gothic  wall.  Masses  of  shattered  column.-^,  sculptured  architraves, 
groined  work,  and  mutilated  statues,  all  unquestionably  the  creation 
of  a  more  artistic  people,  were  compounded  together  with  greater  or 
less  skill,  in  the  rude  and  rugged  structure  that  was  erected. 


86  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

■  In  one  of  these  old  Roman  tragedies,  of  Avhich  crumbling  fragments 
alone  remain,  -^yhich,  separately,  seem  incapable  of  giving  any 
information  relative  to  their  original  use,  or  the  organism  to  which 
they  belonged,  two  or  three  Greek  tragedies  were  often  reproduced, 
parts  being  taken  fi-om  each,  but  the  life  and  spirit  of  all  being 
sacrificed  by  the  mutilation,  butchery,  and  dismemberment  to  which 
they  were  subjected.  Not  content  with  the  spoils  obtained  by  this 
barbarous  procedure,  it  then  sought  to  beautify  and  enrich  itself  with 
plundering  from  other  Greek  dramas  such  gems  and  ornaments  as 
seemed  most  appropriate  to  the  occasion  or  most  easy  of  transfer, 
substituting  coloured  glass  and  pebbles  for  gold  and  precious  stones; 
and  endeavouring  to  atone  for  any  deficiency  in  the  quality  hy  the  mul- 
tiplication of  the  gaudy  decorations.  It  was  the  labour  of  just  such 
taste  as  might  induce  a  rustic  maiden  to  deck  her  fat  red  fingers, 
and  adorn  her  rubicund  neck  with  countless  gewgaws  in  default  of  a 
single  valuable  ornament. 

All  these  glimpses  into  the  composition  and  constitution  of  the 
ancient  Latin  tragedy  arc  speedily  afforded  to  us  by  the  inspection 
of  its  collected  remains,  and  the  lesson  is  immediately  and  forcibly 
imprinted  upon  our  minds  by  the  copious  illustrations  which  the 
diligent  but  tiresome  commentary  of  Ribbeck  provides.  Not  one 
word,  of  course,  does  he  say  suggestive  of  the  views  Avhich  we  have 
been  expressing.  He  would  abhor  any  such  profanity.  He  looks 
upon  all  these  relics  as  so  many  priceless  jewels.  If  not  valuable 
in  themselves,  they  are  venerable  and  valuable  for  the  rust,  and 
mould,  and  mildew  which  has  settled  upon  them  in  the  course  of 
dusty  ages.  He  touches  them  with  reverential  hand,  furbishes 
them  up,  turns  them  over  tenderly,  exhibits  them  in  their  brightest 
aspects,  honours  them  by  the  exposition  of  their  Greek  lineage  and 
affiliations,  but  meanwhile  supplies  all  the  evidences  which  render 
irresistible  the  inferences  which  we  have  drawn.  In  his  dainty 
Latinity  there  is  no  place  for  such  scandalvin  ma^natum  as  we 
have  been  promulgating.  There  every  broken  pebble  and  bone  is 
sanctified,  and  the  soil  on  which  they  rest  is  holy  ground.  That 
admiration  which  the  Latin  tragedy  in  its  integrity  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  inspire  he  accords  to  these  decayed  remnants  of  a  mock 
divinity. 

"  Quoi  Bcc  anc  patriae  domi  slant ;  fract;c  et  disjcctoe  jacent, 
Fana  Flamma  deSagrata,  tosti  alti  slant  parietcs, 
Deforraati,  atque  abiete  crispa-*  ^  °  °." 

We  take  the  lesson  which  is  taught  by  the  facts  exhibited,  and  are 
grateful  to  that  devotional  enthusiasm  which  could  alone  have  stim- 
"  Ennius.     Andromache  J-^chmalotis.  Fr.  IX.    w.  7S-S0,  p.  21. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  87 

ulated  the  conception  of  so  complete  a  collection  and  exposition  of 
the  facts,  and  cherished  the  industry  requisite  for  the  due  realiza- 
tion of  the  idea. 

But  this  is  a  very  scanty,  and  perhaps  the  least  important,  advan- 
tage to  be  derived  from  this  cabinet  of  tragic  fragments.  It  is 
doubtless  sufficient  to  redeem  from  the  charge  of  uselessness  or 
vanity  the  time  and  labour  besto^ved  upon  their  collection  and 
arrangement;  but  numerous  other  purposes  are  subserved  by  the 
eame  exhibition.  "\V'e  could  not  fully  appreciate  the  literary  and 
intellectual — scarcely  even  the  general — character  and  condition  of 
the  Roman  people,  with  any  confident  assurance,  if  any  portion  of 
their  literature  -was  denied  the  illustration  which  it  is  capable  of 
receiving.  And  this  indebtedness  to  Greece  for  its  literary  suc- 
cesses and  enjoyments  is  one  of  the  most  significant  phenomena 
in  the  intellectual  and  social  career  of  Home.  Moreover,  this 
significance  is  deepened  by  the  extent  to  which  the  obligation  has 
been  incurred  in  that  department  which,  of  all  others,  most  essen- 
tially bears  the  impress  of  nationality  and  originality  among  any 
people  who  have  a  spontaneous  aptitude  and  a  native  taste  and 
talent  for  literary  pursuits  of  any  kind.  For  the  drama  being  the 
representation  of  life  in  its  essence  and  pui-port — "  the  very  age  and 
body  of  the  time,  his  form  and  pressure" — speaking  to  the  popular 
heart  and  the  public  sentiment  in  promiscuous  assemblies,  should 
address  itself  to  the  spontaneous  instincts  and  tastes  of  the  people, 
and  will  so  address  itself  whenever  a  national  literature  and  a  national 
literary  taste  exist.  Thus  the  very  complexion  of  Latin  tragedy,  as 
manifested  in  its  fragmentary  remains,  affords  the  most  conclusive 
evidence  of  the  absence  of  either  literary  vocation  or  true  poetical 
appetences  among  the  ancient  Ptomans.  For  them,  copies,  no  mat- 
ter how  foreign,  sufficed  in  place  of  the  original  creations  of  genius, 
and  derivative  streams  Avere  as  welcome  as  the  living  fountains 
should  have  been  had  they  existed. 

It  is  a  proof  of  the  good  sense  and  correct  judgment  of  Horace, 
that  he  endeavoured  to  praise  the  few  and  feeble  efforts  which  had 
been  made  to  introduce  a  more  Roman  spirit  into  the  tragedy  of  the 
Roman  stage.  His  patriotism  prevented  him  from  recognising  or 
acknowledging  that  the  same  iraitativeness  of  Roman  art  v.-as  due  to 
the  absence  of  any  genuine  poetic  element  in  the  character  and  life 
of  the  Romans.  The  people  of  Rome  were  too  actively  engaged  in 
the  stern  and  exacting  pursuits  of  practical  action  ;  they  were  too 
completely  and  habitually  under  the  restraints  of  a  cool  politi- 
cal sagacity  in  the  acquisition  and  maintenance  of  their  vast  dominion 
to  indulge  in  the  reveries  of  sonir,  or  to  cherish  those  tendencies  of 


88  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

human  sentiment  which  seek  expression  in  the  melodious  utterances  of 
poetry.  The  realities  of  life,  the  requirements  of  a  greatand  extended 
political  domain,  exercised  the  more  serious  faculties  of  their  minds, 
and  left  but  a  nan-ow  scope  and  rare  occasions  for  the  indulgence  of 
those  graceful  sentiments  -which  are  inspired  by  the  worship  of  the 
Muses.  The  Ilomans  vrerc  a  race  of  practical,  energetic,  grasping, 
ambitious  statesmen ;  philosophical  speculation,  poetic  aspirations, 
and  aesthetic  reveries  were  foreign  to  their  habits  of  thought,  to 
their  rnilitar}-  and  political  training,  and  to  the  exactions  of  their 
situation  in  the  order  of  human  development.  Yirgil,  though  him- 
self having  overcome  more  successfull}'  than  any  of  his  countrymen 
the  obstacles  to  poetic  culture  presented  by  the  tendencies  of  his 
country,  distinctly  recognises  these  adverse  influences. 

"Excudent  alii  spirantia  mollius  asra, 
Credo  equidem,  vivos  duceut  de  marmore  vultus  : 
Orabunt  causas  melius,  cccli<'iue  meatus 
Describent  radio,  et  surgentia  sidera  diccnt : 
Tu  regerc  impcrio  populos,  Romane,  memento  ; 
IIso  tibi  crunt  artcs  ;  pacisquc  iinponere  morem. 
Parcere  subjectis,  et  debellare  supcrbos."- 

The  consummate  art  of  Virgil  has  excluded  any  specific  mention 
of  the  literary  inferiority  of  the  Romans  to  the  Greeks  ;  but  the  idea  of 
such  inferiority  is  plainly  implied  in  these  celebrated  verses. 
Hoi-ace,  though  distinctly  admitting  the  superior  excellence  of  the 
Greek  exemplars,  speaks  in  terms  of  admiration  of  the  efforts  made 
by  some  of  the  Roman  tragedians  to  break  away  from  a  minute  imi- 
tation of  Attic  models,  and  to  represent  Roman  life  and  Roman 
characters  on  the  stage.  The  eulogy  is  strained  to  the  utmost  that 
circumstances  would  permit  even  a  Roman  courtier  and  poet  to 
hazard ;  yet,  when  closely  examined,  it  conveys  no  very  high  com- 
mendation. The  attempt  rather  than  the  execution  is  the  subject  of 
his  praise — the  aim  rather  than  the  result. 

"Nil  iutcntatum  nostri  liqucre  poelie  : 
Nee  minimum  meruci'e  decus,  vestigia  GrsEca 
Ausi  descrere,  et  cclcbrare  domestica facta; 
Vel  qui  pnvtextas,  vel  qui  docucro  tcgatas 
Nee  virtute  forct  clarisve  potcntius  armis, 
Quam  lingua  Latiuni,  si  non  ottcndoret  unum — 
Quemque  poetarum,  limco  labor  ct  mora.f 

This  want  of  finish   in  the  domestic  tragedies  of  the  Romans  is 

obvious  from  the  ver}'  meagre  remains  which  still  survive ;  but  it  is 

by  no  means  a  distinguishing  peculiarity  of  that  class  of  dramas ; 

*>  Virg.,  .*En.  VI.  vv.  SIS-SjL  j  Hor.  Ep.  ad  Pisones.    tv.  235-291. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  89 

but  is  even  more  apparent  in  those  -which  are  confessedly  derived 
from  Greek  orii^inals.  This  imperfection  in  its  general  application 
to  the  Avholc  series  of  the  earlier  Latin  tragedies,  -vvill  form  the  sub- 
ject of  future  remarks.  It  is  only  noticed  here  for  the  sake  of  call- 
ing attention  to  the  dexterity  Avith  which  Horace  insinuates  a  compli- 
ment to  the  other  productions  of  the  tragic  muse  of  Rome,  by 
applying  his  censure  only  to  particular  classes  of  the  drama.  The 
praise,  however,  which  he  endeavours  to  convey  in  these  lines, 
courtly  as  it  is — and  it  must  be  remembered  that  Augustus  himself 
was  a  candidate  for  the  honours  of  tragic  composition,  though  his 
labours  never  reached  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  his  sponge^'' — 
involves  a  great  deal  more  of  blame  than  of  real  approval,  and  shows 
us  that  if  the  historical  tragedy  of  Rome  {Fahu.la  pfcEtextata)  was 
possessed  of  little  merit,  the  derivative,  translated,  or  Greek  tragedy 
of  Rome  was  not  very  much  better ;  and  that  if  the  Romans  failed 
when  they  deserted  the  constant  support  of  their  Greek  models, 
their  success  was  only  moderate  even  when  they  most  rigidly 
adhered  to  them. 

The  direct  evidences  of  dramatic  incompetency  supplied  by  the 
surviving  fragments  of  the  Latin  tragedy,  and  the  indirect  testimony 
to  the  like  effect  afforded  by  the  anxious  and  ingenious  compliments 
of  Horace,  are  deepened  and  extended  by  the  consideration  that 
some  of  the  earliest  writers  of  Roman  tragedy  were  not  native  but 
foreign  authors — and  not  even  freemen,  but  slaves  from  Magna 
Gnecia,  or  of  libertine  parentage.  Indeed,  of  the  five  earliest  and 
the  five  principal  Latin  tragedians,  all  except  ]\revius,  whose  origin 
is  uncertain,  though  he  must  have  been  a  Roman  citizen,  come 
under  one  or  other  of  these  categories,  and  some  of  them  under  more 
than  one,  being  either  Greeks,  or  slaves,  or  sons  of  freedmen,  or  Greeks 
and  slaves,  or  Greeks  and  sons  of  freedmen.  Nothing  of  this  sort 
can  be  safely  imputed  to  Nrevius,  whose  temper,  tendencies,  and 
tastes  were  peculiarly  Roman,  and  whose  inclinations  associated  him 
with  the  antiquated  and  retrograde  school  of  the  elder  Cato,  though 
himself  the  earliest  and  very  nearly  the  ablest  poet  of  the  pure  Roman 
race.  His  intense  and  obsolete  nationality  was  with  him  a  source  of 
characteristic  pride,  though  it  may  not  have  been  any  great  merit. 
When  we  compare  the  fragments  of  his  own  writings  and  those  of 
Livius  Andronicus  with  the  gradually  more  and  more  Hellenized  and 
refined  expressions  of  his  successors,  we  can  feel  and  appreciate  both 
the  justice  and  the  morose  point  of  the  boast  contained  in  the  quaint 

°  Sueton.  Octav.  c.  Ixxv.  "Nam  tr.igceJiam,  magus  impctu  exorsus,  non  suc- 
cedente  stilo,  abolevit : 'quf»?rentibusque  amic'is  quidnam  Jjax  ageret,Tes^ondit ', 
•^jacein  auum  in  upongiam  i7icubuisse." 

Fourth  Series.  Vol.  VLLI.— 6 


90  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

epitaph  \Yhich  he  composed  for  his   tomb,  in  his  own  cherished 
Saturnian  measure. 

^fortalcs  immortales  Acre  si  foret  fas, 
Flerent  Diva?  Camente  Naivium  poetam, 
Itaqae  postquam  est  Oroino  traditus  thesauro 
Obliti  sunt  llomani  loquier  Latina  lingua.^ 

Naivius  is  certainly  an  anomaly  in  the  literature  of  Rome,  and 
especially  in  the  history  of  Latin  tva2;edy.  He  had  no  legitimate 
precursor,  and  he  left  no  successor  or  imitator  of  his  literary  tastes 
and  appetences.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  had  not  his  own 
school  of  admirers,  for  this  -would  be  contrary  to  testimony; 
but  no  later  poet  of  Rome  belonged  distinctly  to  the  same  type. 
Lucilius  and  Laberius  -svere  the  nearest  approximations  to  it, 
but  they  differed  from  him  in  more  points  than  those  in  which 
they  resembled  him.  The  incongruity  of  his  position  in  the 
historical  development  of  the  Latin  trngedy,  inclines  us  to 
concede  much  weight  to  the  doubts  of  Welcker,  who  regards  it 
as  dubious  whether  he  was  a  tragic  poet.  Ribbeck  treats  with 
supercilious  irony  this  imputation  of  Welcker's,  and  proceeds  confi- 
dently to  expand  the  brief  fragments  into  orderly  tragedies,  illus- 
trated by  references  to  and  comparisons  with  their  supposed  Greek 
originals. t  The  titles  of  the  dramas  of  Nwvius  are  on  the  side  of 
Ribbeck  ;  they  assuredly  portend  tragic  purposes.  The  fragments 
have  no  very  tragic  significance,  but  might  have  been  inserted  for 
the  most  part  indifferently  in  tragedy,  comedy,  farce,  or  satire. 
Historical  presumptions  and  other  probabilities  appear  to  favour  the 
view  of  Welcker.  Whatever  conclusion  we  adopt,  it  is  founded  on 
conjectural  premises  alone  ;  though  the  general  current  of  belief  has 
received  Krevius  as  a  tragic  author,  and  as  such  it  is  safest  to 
accept  him,  though  his  admission  into  the  tragic  choir  occasions 
many  troublesome  anomalies. 

If  the  name  of  Na^vius  were  withdravNTi  from  the  list  of  early  Roman 
tragedians,  the  foreign  and  servile  origin  of  the  Latin  tragedy  would 
be  completely  established.  Livius  Andronicus,  the  most  ancient 
poet  of  Rome,  and  the  creator  of  its  tragic  drama.j.  was  a  native  of 
Magna  Grnecia,  taken  captive  by  the  Romans,  and  became  the  slave 
of  M.  Livius  Salinator,  from  whom  he  received  his  first  name  on  his 
emancipation.  His  first  play — it  is  unknown  whether  it  was  a 
comedy  or  a  tragedy — was  exhibited  at  Rome,  A.  C.  240.     This 

"  A.  GclUiis  Noctcs  Atticaj.  I.,  c.  xxiv. 
t  Reliqu.  Trajr.  Lat.,  p.  215. 

X  A.  Gellius.  Noct.  Att.  XVII.  c.  xxi,  42.  "  Co.ss  Claudio  Centone  et  ill  Sompro- 
nio  Tuditano  primus  omnium  L.  Livius  poeta  fabulas  docere  Romas  ccepit." 


185G.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  91 

date  accordin;:^]y  indicates  the  commencement  both  of  Latin  tragedy 
and  Latin  literature  ;  and  the  most  ancient  author  of  the  one  as  of 
the  other  Avas  a  Messapian  Greek  and  a  slave.  It  was  perfectly 
natural  that  he  should  have  restricted  himself  to  the  translation  of 
Greek  originals;  but  what  would  have  been  remarkable,  if  the 
Komans  had  enjoyed  any  natural  vocation  for  literature  was,  that 
the  example  so  given  should  have  been  so  long  and  so  rigidly  follow- 
ed, and  with  rare  and  but  partially  successful  deviations  from  the 
prescribed  fashion. 

Naivius  is  the  second  tragedian  in  point  of  time,  and  the  second 
whose  remains  are  gathered  into  the  mausoleum  of  dead  bones.  Of 
him  enough  has  been  already  said.  It  is  only  necessary  to  add  that 
the  year  A.  C.  235  has  been  assigned,  on  very  loose  data,  as  the 
date  of  his  first  dramatic  exhibition. 

The  celebrated  name  of  Q.  Ennius  appears  nest  in  the  series  and 
in  the  chronological  succession  of  these  poets.  AVith  him  com- 
menced a  bolder  flight  of  Latin  poetry,  and  those  marked  improve- 
ments in  the  constitution  of  the  Latin  tongue  and  versification 
which  moved  the  bile  of  Naevius.  The  spiteful  epitaph  of  that 
splenetic  Roman  may,  indeed,  be  regarded  as  especially  directed 
against  the  linguistic  innovations  of  his  more  illustrious  and  more 
fortunate  rival.  Ennius.  like  Livius  Andronicus,  was  a  foreigner — 
a  Greek  from  Rudice,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brundisium.  Thus 
the  adjoining  provinces  of  Mcssapia  and  Calabria  gave  birth  to  the 
founder  and  to  the  perfecter  of  Latin  tragedy.  The  birth  of  Ennius 
took  place  in  the  year  succeeding  the  first  representation  of  a  Latin 
drama  by  Livius  Andronicus.  His  old  age,  and  his  military,  per- 
haps even  more  than  his  literary,  services  to  the  republic,  were  hon- 
oured by  the  then  rare  gift  of  Roman  citizenship ;  and  after  having 
lived  through  the  full  term  of  the  life  of  man — threescore  and  ten 
years — he  died  in  the  humble  habitation  on  the  Aventine  which  he 
had  long  occupied. 

The  labours  of  Ennius  were  mo.-;t  varied  and  extensive.  He 
wrote  on  a  diversity  of  subjects,  and  translated  abundantly  from  the 
Greeks.  His  principal  compositions  were  in  verse,  but  he  cultivated 
prose  also,  and  was  probably  one  of  the  very  earliest  authors,  if 
not  the  earliest,  in  this  department.  He  softened,  polished,  and 
bannonized  the  language  in  various  modes,  and  enriched  it  with 
unfamiliar  metres,  and  especially  with  the  heroic  hexameter,  which 
was  afterward  refined  into  such  perfection  by  Lucretius  and  Virgil 
as  to  become  the  national  verse  of  Rome.  The  contemporary  and 
posthumous  celebrity  of  Ennius  rested  chiefly  on  his  Annals,  which 
treated  the  history  of  the  Romans  in  this  metre,  and  invited,  by  the 


92  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

national  popularity  of  the  subject,  the  admiration  v.hich  was  long 
bestowed  upon  his  talents.  In  the  selection  of  this  topic  for  poetic 
treatment  he  had  been  preceded  by  his  contemporary  and  rival,  En. 
Naivius ;  but  the  rugged  old  Saturnian  metre  of  the  latter  was 
obliged  to  yield  to  the  sonorous  fulness  and  rich  majesty  of  the 
hexameter  verse.  Ennius  and  Navius  probably  never  met;  the 
latter  had  been  banished  from  Rome  for  his  pasquinades  on  the 
Metelli  and  the  aristocracy  before  the  former  was  brought  to 
Rome ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  the  indulgence  of  mutual  jealousies. 

Nineteen  or  twenty  years  before  the  arrival  of  Ennius  in  Rome, 
his  nephew,  M.  Pacuvius,  the  greatest  or  nearly  the  gi-eatest  of  the 
early  tragedians,  was  born  at  Brundisium.  Consequently  he  was  a 
Greek,  or  at  least  of  Greek  descent  on  the  mother's  side.  Like 
Euripides,  whom  he  imitated  so  closely  in  some  of  his  plays,  that  he 
is  called  on  this  account,  in  one  place  by  Ribbeck,  "  libertus  quasi 
Eujipich's,'"*  Pacuvius  was  a  professional  painter  as  well  as  a 
poet.  Notwithstanding,  however,  this  close  adherence  occasionally 
to  his  Greek  models,  Pacuvius  seems  to  have,  at  times,  displayed  a 
more  vigorous  originality  than  was  customary  with  the  Roman  tra- 
gedians. His  long  life,  which  was  extended  to  ninety  years,  enabled 
him  to  cultivate  the  friendship  and  foster  the  talents  of  his  successor 
Attius,  and  thus  exhibit  in  his  closing  years  the  same  pleasing  spec- 
tacle of  literary  emulation  without  jealousy,  which  he  had  di.-played 
in  the  outset  of  his  career  by  his  association  with  his  uncle,  Ennius. 
In  A.  C.  140,  Pacuvius,  then  eighty  years  old,  and  Attius  at  the 
age  of  thirty- eight,  represented  tragedies  together  at  the  same 
celebration.! 

With  Attius  the  list  of  the  older  tragedians  of  celebrity,  of  whose 
works  specimens  remain,  is  concluded.  He  was  half  a  century 
younger  than  Pacuvius,  having  been  born  in  A.  C.  170.  He  was 
the  son  of  a  frcedman,  and,  like  his  two  immediate  predecessors, 
lived  to  a  very  advanced  age.  He  divided  with  Pacuvius  the 
honour  of  being  considered  the  most  illustrious  of  the  earlier 
dramatists.  They  are  both  mentioned  with  high  and  almost  equal 
commendation  by  Velleius,  Paterculus,  and  Quintilian,  who,  how- 
ever, justly  note  the  absence  of  grace  and  literary  polish  from  their 
compositions,  as  from  all  the  productions  of  that  age. 

This  passing  biographical  notice  of  the  ancient  chiefs  of  Roman 
tragedy,  besides  illustrating  other  topics  which  may  be  briefly 
resumed  hereafter,  explains  the  original  character  of  that  drama  by 

**  Trag.  Lat.  Reliqu.,  p.  2S1.     Qurcstionum  Sccnicaruni  Mantissa. 
t  "  Accins  iisdcm  ..Edilibus  ait  se  et  Pacuvium  docuisse  fabulam,  quum  illo 
octaginta,  ipso  triginta  annos  natus  esset."    Cic.  Brut.,  c.  Ixiv.,  §  229. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  93 

establishing  the  fact  that  nearly  all  the  principal  poets  of  those  times 
were  either  of  Greek  or  of  servile  origin.  Under  these  circum- 
stances the  close  and  even  servile  imitation  of  the  Greek  exemplars 
was  a  natural  procedure,  and  one  -which  became  too  habitual  to 
be  readily  or  extensively  abandoned  at  a  later  period. 

"  Non  possum  ferre  Quirites 
Graicam  urbim ;  quamvis  quota  portio  laudis  Achceas."" 

We  have  hazarded  the  license  of  transmuting  one  expression  in  this 
quotation  to  render  it  peculiarly  appropriate ;  for  the  censure  of 
Juvenal  on  the  manners  of  his  metropolitan  contemporaries  becomes 
by  this  slight  alteration  applicable  to  the  general  current  of  the 
literary  culture  of  Rome. 

This  Greek  impress  was  never  lost  by  the  Latin  tragedy.  With 
the  progress  of  time,  the  increasing  favour  for  the  art,  the  purer 
taste  and  the  larger  cultivation  of  the  Romans,  the  style,  and  per- 
haps the  composition  of  the  drama  were  improved,  chastened,  and 
refined.  As  the  Latin  language  lost  gradually  its  primitive  harshness 
and  angularity,  tragedy  participated  in  the  benefits  of  the  change, 
and  divested  itself  of  much  of  its  former  ruggedness.  Nay,  the 
greater  tragedians,  Ennius,  Pacuvius,  and  Attius  were  mainly  instru- 
mental in  effecting  this  refinement ;  and  the  elegancies  dictated  by 
the  requirements  of  their  verse  passed,  in  process  of  time,  into 
general  use  among  the  educated,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
classic  Latinity  of  the  Ciceronian  and  Augustan  age. 

The  illustration  of  this  gradual  amelioration  of  the  Latin  tongue 
in  its  forms,  grammatical  inflexions,  S3"ntactical  development,  and 
rhythmical  construction,  is  one  of  the  chief  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  such  a  gathering  of  broken  meats  as  the  present.  Indeed,  it 
is  impossible  to  trace  with  any  confidence  the  progress  of  the  Latin 
language  from  the  unintelligible  and  discordant  sounds  of  the  Arva- 
lian  song,  and  the  other  relics  of  a  later  but  still  uncouth  period,  to 
the  precise  elegance  and  harmonious  utterance  of  Cicero  and  Virgil, 
Horace  and  Livy,  without  a  careful  study  of  the  intermediate  liter- 
ature. The  fusion  of  the  Oscan,  Pelasgic,  and  other  elements  which 
entered  into  the  composition  of  the  Latin,  remains  a  philosophical 
mystery  in  the  absence  of  any  suitable  materials  to  furnish  the  data 
for  investigation.  But  the  transition  from  the  rude  speech  of  the 
old  patrician  ages  to  the  artificial  graces  of  the  declining  republic 
and  dawning  empire  may  still  be  examined,  by  the  aid  especially  of 
this  or  a  similar  collection  of  archzeological  curiosities.     The  frag- 

*  Juvenal.  Sat.  ITL,  y?.  60-Gl.  The  reading  of  the  original  text  is  "  fecis  "  in 
the  place  of  laudis. 


94  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

jnents  of  the  Latin  tragedians,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  earliest  and  most 
copious  in  this  collection,  are  the  oldest  specimens  of  Latin  literature 
extant :  Livius  Andronicus  and  IS^cevius  ^vere  the  older  contempora- 
ries of  Fabius  Pictor  and  Cincius  Alimcntus,  whose  chief  vrorks  were 
indeed  written  in  Greek ;  and  Attius  was  still  writing  new  pieces 
for  the  stage  when  the  satirist  Lucilius,  who  appeared  rough  to  the 
circumcised  ears  of  Horace,*  died  in  A.  C  103.  These  tragic  rem- 
nants, accordingly,  belong  distinctly  to  the  transition  stage  of  the 
language ;  bearing  nearly  the  same  relation  to  what  preceded  and 
what  followed  them  as  the  works  of  L3'dgatc  and  Chaucer  do  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon  or  Anglo-]S'orman  productions  of  old  England,  and  to 
the  master-pieces  of  the  later  and  more  classic  times.  They  are, 
indeed,  almost  the  sole  literary  mementoes  of  this  period  of  great 
and  rapid  transition.  Before  them  the  Romans  possessed  indeed 
no  literature  that  can  be  properly  so  designated ;  but  there  were 
more  ancient  specimens  of  composition  in  verse  and  in  prose — the 
Twelve  Tables,  the  Annals  of  the  Pontiffs,  the  Statutes  of  the  People, 
Plcbis  scita  or  Scnatus  considta,  the  Juva  Pojnriana  and  Flaviana, 
inscriptions,  and  popular  songs,  perhaps  also  a  few  meagre  chroni- 
cles not  of  sacerdotal  origin.  Of  these  some  remnants  have  been 
preserved  to  our  times : — the  song  of  the  Fratrcs  Arvalcs,  previ- 
ously mentioned,  parts  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  though  not  in  the  unre- 
deemed rudeness  of  their  primitive  enunciation,  the  inscriptions  on 
the  Duilian  column  and  on  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  and  the  old 
rustic  formula  of  lustration.  The  decree  of  the  senate  against  the 
Bacchanalians  is  nearly  contemporary  v>-ith  the  birth  of  Pacuvius, 
and  consequently  precedes  the  middle  age  of  the  early  Roman 
tragedy.  There  are  several  notices,  too,  of  the  more  ancient  pecu- 
liarities of  the  language  afforded  by  Quintilian,  Aulus  Gellius,  the 
gramm.arians,  and  the  miscellaneous  authors. 

With  these  materials,  scanty  as  they  are,  and  insufficient  as  they 
must  be  confessed  to  be  for  any  minute  appreciation  of  the  earlier 
types  of  Roman  speech,  we  are  enabled  to  trace  .the  historical  de- 

•*  Horace  asserts  in  this  criticism  the  entire  dependence  of  Lucilius  on  the 
Attic  comedians,  representing  his  satires  as  simple  translations.  Hor.  Sat.  I, 
iv,  TV.  6-13. 

Hinc  omnis  pendet  Lucilius,  hosce  secutus, 
Mutatis  tantum  pcdibns  numcrisque;  facetus, 
Emuncta>  uaris.  durus  coraponcre  versus, 
Nam  fuit  hoc  viticsus  ;  in  hora  sa^pe  ducentos 
Ut  magnum,  versus  dictabat  stans  pede  in  uno; 
Cum  fluerct  lutulentus,  erat  quod  toUcre  velles : 
Garrulus,  atquc  piger  scribendi  ferre  laborem ; 
Scribcndi  rectc :  nam,  ut  multum,  nil  moror. 


1856.]  Remams  of  Latin  Tragedy.  95 

vclopment  of  the  Latin  language  \7ith  some  degree  of  insight  into 
the  amount  and  character  of  the  changes  Avhich  it  underwent,  though 
not  to  exhibit  them  s^-stomaticallj.  We  may  observe  ^Yith  amaze- 
ment the  wide  discrepance  between  the  language  of  the  Augustan 
a^c  and  that  of  the  generations  by  whom  the  foundations  of  Ftoman 
power  and  dominion  were  laid.  This  chasm,  which  seems  at  first 
blush  impassable  by  any  continuity  of  literary  progress — this  discord 
which  is  apparently  irreconcilable  by  any  theoretic  explanation — is 
dimiui.-hed  and  softened  down  by  studying  the  mutual  affinities  and 
contrasts  of  these  remnants  of  the  tragedians  with  the  relics  of  ear- 
lier times  and  with  the  finished  productions  of  the  more  polished 
and  mature  ages  of  Rome.  The  incongruous  extremes  were  united 
and  blended  together  by  the  intervention  of  Greek  culture,  and  this 
Greek  spirit  was  introduced  and  directly  infused  into  the  body  of 
the  Roman  language  and  literature  by  the  Greeks  from  Magna 
Graecia  and  their  imitators,  whose  labours  arc  represented  by  these 
fragments  of  Latin  tragedy. 

It  is  not  merely  the  vocabulary  and  terminology  of  the  language 
which  are  thus  illustrated,  but  all  the  elementary  constituents  which 
enter  into  the  determination  of  literary  composition.  The  grammat- 
ical inflexions,  the  constructions,  the  orthography,  the  metrical 
harmony,  and  the  employment  of  words,  all  undergo  notable  modifi- 
cations during  the  period  which  prepares  them  for  their  classical 
usage.  These  changes,  with  reference  to  both  the  earlier  and  the 
later  forms  of  the  language,  are  exemplified  in  this  copious  collection, 
though  of  course  less  fully  with  regard  to  their  preceding  than  to 
their  subsequent  condition.  ]S[o  people  ever  effectuated  so  complete 
a  transmutation  of  their  native  tongue  in  the  same  brief  period  as 
the  Romans,  unless  we  except  the  French  between  the  eras  of  Rabe- 
lais and  Pascal.  A  century  and  a  half  was  sufficient  to  convert  the 
Oscan  rusticity  of  the  older  speech  into  the  almost  Hellenic  ele- 
gance of  Lucretius  and  Catullus. 

These  points,  though  constituting  the  principal  advantage  to  be 
derived  from  any  such  compilation  as  the  present,  are  not  in  any 
wise  directly  elucidated  by  Ribbeck.  That  diligent  but  pedantic 
editor  was  engaged  with  antiquarian  curiosities  of  a  different  cliar- 
acter.  The  service  which  may  be  rendered  by  these  fragments  in 
these  respects  must  be  gathered  from  an  attentive  study  of  the  texts 
themselves,  and  is  not  facilitated  by  any  special  intervention  of  this 
compiler  and  commentator.  We  regard  this  omission,  however,  as 
no  very  serious  blemish,  if  indeed  it  should  be  considered  a  fault  at 
all.  The  treatment  of  such  topics  belongs  most  appropriately  to  a 
formal  history,  or  to  a  philosophical  grammar  of  the  Latin  language; 


96  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

and  it  is  only  from  such  works  that  vie  could  exact  the  application 
of  these  "disjecta  membra"  to  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  the  pro- 
gressive changes  and  improvements  of  the  Roman  tongue.  This 
assistance  should  not  be  expected  from  a  work  in  which  the  frag- 
ments arc  simply  collected  together  for  general  and  promiscuous 
use.  We  are  not  partial  to  that  mode  of  editing  and  annotating  the 
classics  which  was  prevalent  in  Gennany  and  other  countries  of 
Europe  half  a  century  ago,  and  crowded  into  the  foot-notes  the  most 
varied  and  prom.iscuous  matters,  relevant  and  irrelevant,  depositing 
on  any  occasion  the  whole  contents  of  plethoric  adversaria,  like 
shooting  dirt  from  a  mud-cart.  The  recent  tendency  of  the  best 
editors  of  Germany  is  perhaps  objectionable  for  its  scrupulous  ob- 
servance of  the  opposite  extreme.  But  Kibbeck  avoids  the  naked 
accuracy  of  Bekker  and  his  imitators.  What  was  required  of  the 
latest  editor  of  the  Latin  tragedians,  and  what  he  undertook  to  pro- 
vide, was  a  comprehensive,  complete,  correct,  and  critical  exhibition 
of  the  fragments  themselves :  and  we  can  neither  exact  nor  need 
we  desire  from  this  volume  anything  more  than  what  he  proposed 
to  perform.  "We  may  be  obliged  to  his  diligence  and  ingenuity  for 
having  appended  a  conjectural  reproduction  of  the  original  order  of 
the  fragments  in  the  respective  dramas  to  which  they  belong,  and 
an  equally  conjectural  representation  of  the  tenor  and  treatment  of 
the  tragedies  themselves.  Tlie  enigmatical  and  euphemistic  pream- 
ble with  which  he  commences  his  "'^lantissa,"  might  authorize  the 
supposition  that  he  edited  and  purified  the  fragments  principally  as 
an  introduction  to  his  supplementary  work  of  imagination.  This 
latter  labour  may,  however,  be  almost  regarded  as  a  distinct  and 
independent  production,  entitled  to  praise  or  censure  on  grounds 
which  do  not  affect  in  any  considerable  degree  the  merits  or  the 
demerits  of  the  compilation  of  the  texts. 

In  this  country,  removed  as  we  are  from  the  great  and  aged  libra- 
ries of  the  old  world,  there  is  scarcely  any  possibility  of  adequate 
access  to  the  various  manuscripts  of  the  ancient  classics.  It  is 
nearly  twenty  years  since  we  saw  such  a  manuscript,  and  then  the 
sight  was  not  vouchsafed  to  us  on  tliis  side  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is 
consequently  a  mere  empty  pretension,  preposterous  and  presump- 
tuous, for  any  one  here  to  undertake  to  criticise  the  skill  and  fidelity 
of  a  critical  edition  of  any  ancient  author,  unless  the  defects  are  so 
obvious  and  gross  as  to  suggest  themselves  from  the  simple  inspec- 
tion of  the  results  given.  We  will  not,  then,  presume  to  discuss 
the  merits  of  M.  Ribbock's  critical  labours,  but  will  accept  them 
thankfully,  not  as  conclusive,  but  as  provisionally  satisfictory  at 
least.     There  are  instances,  it  is  true,  where  we  suspect  syllables 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  97 

and  even  feet  to  be  redundant,  the  orthography  to  be  erroneous,  and 
other  blemishes  to  exist :  but  we  choke  down  our  suspicions,  as  we 
have  no  means  of  verifying  them,  and  concede  tlie  correctness  of  the 
readings  presented.  So  much  \<e  are  warranted  in  assuming  for 
the  nonce  with  reasonable  confidence ;  for  so  much  care  has  of  late 
years  been  expended  on  the  grammar  of  the  Latin  language,  and  on 
the  whole  series  of  the  classics,  including  the  most  of  the  authors 
from  whose  works  these  fossil  specimens  of  antiquated  Latinity  have 
been  disinterred;  M.  Ribbcck  has  been  in  such  close  correspondence 
with  so  many  learned  men  who  have  devoted  their  attention  to  the 
illustration  of  the  originals  of  the  language,  as  is  proclaimed  in  Ids 
preface — and  he  furnishes  so  much  evidence  of  diligence  and  indus- 
try by  his  exposition  of  the  various  readings — that  vre  may  conclude, 
at  least  presumptively,  that  his  judgment  may  be  trusted,  and  that 
the  text  of  these  fragments  is  sufficiently  castigated  and  purified  to 
subserve  the  purposes  contemplated  by  a  critical  edition. 

This  critical  labour,  and  the  exegetical  enterprise  of  arranging 
the  fragments  in  tlie  order  in  which  they  may  have  occurred,  and 
of  elucidating  their  position  and  the  texture  of  the  dramas  from 
which  they  have  been  severed,  constitute  the  sole  assistance  render- 
ed toward  satisfying  those  inquiries  which  are  suggested,  and  which 
must  be  solved  principally  by,  these  relics. 

To  this  specification  we  ought;  properly  to  add  the  valuable  aid 
which  may  be  obtained  from  the  very  complete  and  admirable  index 
appended  to  this  volume.  It  is  a  complete  lexicon  of  ragged  Laiin- 
ity — a  thorough  concordance— a  perfect  catalogue  of  all  the  fossil 
shells,  weeds,  and  bones,  important  or  tri\ial,  contained  in  this 
museum  of  broken  pebbles,  vegetable  remains,  and  mutilated  limbs. 
This  index  furnishes  of  itself,  in  a  concise  form  and  in  a  compact 
mass,  the  whole  collection  of  materials  available  in  these  chips  of 
Latin  tragedy  for  the  careful  examination  and  appreciation  of  the 
changes  of  the  Latin  language,  and  the  principles  and  progress  of 
such  changes.  It  throws  no  light,  of  course,  upon  metrical  peculiari- 
ties, or  upon  the  characteristics  of  the  literary  taste  of  the  authors 
in  the  composition  of  their  tragedies.  These  are  points  which  can 
only  be  investigated  by  the  close  and  direct  inspection  of  the  texts 
in  their  due  places. 

These  phenomena  appear  sufficiently  marked  and  sufficiently 
interesting  to  merit  special  notice,  and  to  them  we  shall  devote  the 
brief  remainder  of  this  criticism.  Our  observations  will  be  merely 
desultory,  for  we  cannot  enter  minutely  or  profoundly  into  such 
recondite  topics.  They  will  be  oftered  in  no  dogmatic  temper,  and 
■with  no  expectation  that  they  will  meet  with  general  assent.     It 


98  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy,  [January, 

•would  be  too  vrild  a  flight  of  imagination  to  anticipate  that  inferences 
drawn  from  such  scant  premises  as  these  fragments  afford,  and  with 
such  meagre  opportunities  as  are  at  our  command,  would  be  either 
unassailable  or  generally  acceptable.  They  can  only  be  proposed 
for  public  consideration.  They  have  forced  themselves  upon  our 
notice  in  the  study  of  this  volume.  To  ourselves  they  appear  not 
merely  plausible  but  probable ;  and  they  are  stated  that  they  may 
receive  the  fuller  and  more  competent  estimation  of  others  having 
greater  facilities  or  greater  special  familiarity  with  these  matters 
than  ourselves. 

The  first  peculiarity  which  we  shall  notice  is  the  very  sparse  occur- 
rence of  pure  iambic  feet  in  the  iambic  metres.  Spondees  and  dac- 
tils  are  introduced  with  a  licence  and  exuberance  v^holly  foreign  to 
the  practice  of  Attic  tragedy,  and  even  to  the  later  usage  of  Rome. 
The  metrical  procedure  of  the  Romans  continued  at  all  times  singu- 
larly loose,  and  was  far  enough  from  observing  the  punctilious  pre- 
scriptions and  minute  precision  of  their  Attic  precursors,  but  the 
negligence  and  indifference  of  the  earlier  tragedians  in  the  construc- 
tion of  their  metres  transcended  the  inartistic  privileges  retained 
by  subsequent  poets,  and  rendered  harmonious  versification  an 
impossibility. 

Numerous  instances  are  found  in  which  every  foot  but  the  last  is 
a  spondee.     For  example, — 

Ludens  ad  cantum  classera  lustratur.  "  " 

Liv,  „^ndron.,  p.  1,  v.  6. 

The  last  word,  which  is  also  the  last  foot,  is  lost.  It  must  have 
been  an  iambus,  but  all  the  other  feet  are  spondees. 

Quacumque  incedunt  oiunes  arvas  optcruut. 

Ncrvius,  p.  S,  V.  21-. 
Quantis  cum  rerumuis  illuin  cxanclavi  diem. 

EnniuR,  p.  22,  v.  90. 
Sol  qui  candentem  in  cado  sublimas  facem. 

Enniiis,  p.  40,  v.  23t. 
.  Inter  quo3  ssepe  et  multo  inbutus  sanguine. 

Jttius,  p.  131,  V.  151. 
Virtuti  sis  par,  dispar  fortunis  patris. 

JlUiits,  p.  131,  V.  156. 
Visum  est  in  somnis  pastorcm  ad  me  adpellcrc. 

Jttius,  p.  230,  Y.  19. 

To  these  may  be  added,  although  the  first  syllable  is  either  long 
or  short  in  "  sacratum," 

Jovis  sacratum  jus  jurandum  sagminc. 

Incert.  Inccrt.  p.  228,  v.  219. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  99 

In  other  examples  spondees  do  not  occupy  the  first  five  places,  but 
only  preponderate  over  other  feet  in  the  line.     Thus:— 

Procat,  toleratis  teniploque  banc  deducitis. 

Liv.  Jndron.  p.  2,  v.  14. 
Mirum  videtur  quod  sit  factum  jam  diu. 

Liu.  Jndron.  p.  2,  v.  15. 
Pcmittas,  tanquam  in  fiscinam  vindemitor. 

Kccvius^  p.  i>,  V.  2. 
EiTavi,  post  cognovi,  ct  fugio  cognitum. 

Enniits,  p.  2.5,  119. 
Set  numquam  scripstis,  qui  parentcm  ant  hospitem. 

Eniiius,  p.  32.  -v.  173. 
Coepissct,  quoe  nunc  nominatur  nomine. 

Enyiius:,  p.  37,  v.  208. 
Parentum  incertura  investigandum  gratia. 

Pacuvius.  p.  67,  v.  43. 
Dum  quod  sublime  ventis  espulsum  rapit. 

Mtius,  p.  158,  V.  396. 

This  excess  of  spondees  renders  the  versification  exceedingly 
cumbrous  and  a^vk^vard,  but  might  have  been  necessitated  by  the 
superabundance  of  consonants  in  the  older  Latin,  and  the  general 
intractability  of  the  language,  -^vhich  still  appeared  rugged,  poor,  and 
unmanageable  to  Lucretius  and  Cicero,  after  all  the  manipulations 
and  ameliorations  of  the  tragedians.  •  It  is,  moreover,  probable 
that  the  prosody  of  the  language  was  unsettled  previous  to  the  mtro- 
duction  of  the  drama,  and  that  peculiarities  of  pronunciation  vrhich 
are  now  undiscoverable  might  have  rendered  tolerable  what  now 
appears  as  a  hopeless  fault. 

But  the  evil  just  noticed  did  not  exist  alone,  nor  was  it  the  gravest 
offence  which  was  committed  against  a  musical  ear.  The  opposite 
licence  is  of  even  more  frequent  occurrence,  and  gi-ates  still  more 
unpleasantly  on  the  nerves,  by  giving  a  jolting,  unsteady,  n-rcgular, 
and  dislocated  movement  to  the  rhythm.  There  is  not  simply  an 
extravagant  employment  of  resolved  feet— dactyls,  tribrachs,  and 
anapres'ts— which,  when  multiplied,  are  less  congenial  to  the  spirit 
of  the  iambic  trimeter   than  even  the  heavy  tread  of  successive 


spondees;  but  their  repetition,  their  loose  aggregation. 


an 


d  their 


concurrence, 


render  the  melody  discordant  and  the  metre  disorderly. 
This  deformity  is  increased  by  the  entire  absence  of  either  taste  or 
discrimination  in  the  introduction  of  such  feet,  one  after  the  other, 
into  any  places  of  the  verse.  Horace  may  have  alluded  to  the  prac- 
tice of  "these  tragedians  in  their  metrical  labours  when  he  attributed 
the  process  of  verse-making  to  the  dexterity  of  fingers  and  ears- 
digito  callcmus  et  aurc.     He  was  not  very  porticular  about  the 


100  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [Januan^ 

niceties  of  versification  in  some  of  his  own  poems ;  but  the  early 
tragedians  apparently  trusted  much  more  to  the  accuracy  of  their 
fingering  than  to  the  delicacy  of  their  auricular  perceptions.  And 
even  -with  this  mechanical  contrivance  they  seem  to  have  sometimes 
lost  their  count,  if  they  are  not  misrepresented  by  Ribbeck's  expo- 
sition of  their  handiwork. 

Similar  licenses  occur  also  in  the  trochaic  measures  ;  but  for  these 
modes  the  Latin  language  appears  to  have  been  endowed  with  a 
greater  natural  aptitude.  Moreover,  trochaic  metres  admit  readily 
of  greater  licences  than  are  tolerable  in  regular  iambics.  There  is 
an  inherent  levity,  a  native  flippancy,  a  spontaneous  carelessness  in 
the  former  which  is  incompatible  with  the  flowing  ease  and  dignity 
of  the  latter. 

AVhat  proportion  these  licentious  verses  bore  to  the  body  of  the  plays 
from  which  they  have  been  extracted  cannot  now  be  estimated.  The 
inquiry  is  open  only  to  vague  conjecture,  but  from  the  rarity  of  pure 
iambics,  from  the  constant  inattention  to  the  nicer  rules  of  iambic  ver- 
sification, and  from  the  disregard  even  of  rhythmical  requirements  in 
the  specimens  which  remain,  as  well  as  from  the  critical  censures 
of  the  Ilomans  of  a  better  age,  we  may  safely  infer  that  we  possess 
in  these  fragments  a  fair  average  sample  of  the  ordinary  tenor  of  early 
tragic  versification. 

Among  the  remains  of  Pacuvius  and  Attius  maybe  found  occa- 
sional verses  worthy  of  the  palmiest  days  of  Latin  poetry.  The  want 
of  harmony  in  the  majority  of  instances  is,  however,  only  partially 
assignable  to  the  inartistic  and  unpolished  character  of  the  metres. 
Even  in  the  lines  already  quoted,  and  still  more  in  those  which 
might  be  employed  for  the  special  illustration  of  this  point,  the  fre- 
quency and  awkwardness  of  the  elisions,  and  the  constant  recurrence 
of  uncoalescing  consonants,  is  painfully  manifested. 

The  latter  peculiarity  is  characteristic  of  the  language  as  it  then 
existed,  and  cannot  be  attributed  to  the  measure,  and  scarcely  to  the 
authors  themselves.  Another  striking  trait  which  we  slialf  notice, 
appertains  solely  to  the  style  and  to  the  prevalent  fashion,  and  is 
rather  an  affectation  distinctive  of  a  particular  phase  of  literary  taste 
than  a  singularity  of  these  tragedians.  It  is,  however,  a  caprice 
which  is  cultivated  by  them  with  especial  earnestness,  and  is  in  them 
preeminently  disagreeable.  AVc  refer  to  the  evident  rage  for 
alUterations.  These  are  continual,  harsh,  and  often  grotesque. 
Some  languages  and  periods  have  employed  alliteration  as  the  main 
characteristic  of  their  poetical  systems.  jSearly  all  languages  have 
at  different  periods  of  their  development  cultivated  tlicm  as  exquisite 
ornaments.     Usually  this  has  happened  in  their  literary  infancy. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  101 

and  we  may  have  iu  these  tragedians  the  surviving:;  representatives  of 
a  previous  general  usage.  There  are  traces  in  Greek  poetry  of  the 
early  existence  of  a  similar  caprice  on  the  part  of  the  lyric  poets. 
Thus  Diogenes  Laertius  reports  an  epigrammatic  epitaph,  variously 
attributed  to  Empedocles  and  to  Simonidcs,  Avhose  point  is  much 
sharpened  by  its  alliterative  expression  :— 

"kKpov  hrirpov  'XKpuv,'  'kKpayavrlvov  ■irarphc  uKpov, 
Kpvme  KpTjjivbg  uKpog  ■Karpidor  uKpoTii.fi}rP 

We  hazard  the  following  paraphrase,  which  reproduces  most  of  its 
distinctive  traits,  even  to  its  hexameter  and  pentameter  measure  :— 

"  Here  a  sharp  doctor  of  SharpTille,  one  Sharp,  sharper  son  of  a  sharper, 
Lieth  beneath  a  sharp  hill— sharp  in  the  sharpest  of  lauds." 

The  Greek  epigram  is  signalized  by  smoothness,  acuteness,  and 
wit ;  but  the  tragic  alliterations  are  recommended  or  discredited  by 
fantastic  whimsicality  alone. 

There  are  so  few  points  to  which  we  can  accord  the  elucidation 
rendered  by  citations,  and  so  little  room  that  can  be  spared  for  the 
purpose,  that  v^^e  shall  confine  our  selection  to  a  few  of  the  more 
f^laring  examples,  and  refer  to  the  work  reviewed  for  more  numer- 
ous, lels  offensive,  and  more  trivial  exemplifications  of  this  bad  taste. 
Here  are  a  few  ears  as  an  earnest  of  the  harvest  :— 

Cave  sis  tuam  contendas  iram  coutra  cum  ira  Liberi. 

Navius,  p.  I),  V.  41. 
Optumam  progeniem  Triamo  pepcri?ti  me  :  hoc  dolet. 

Enn.  p.  IS,  V.  46. 
Scrupeo  investita  saxo,  atque  ostrci^  s.iuaraa;  sx-abrent. 

Knn.  p.  'Id,  V.  100. 
Corpus  contemplatur  unde  corporaret  vulncre. 

Enn.  p.  23,  y.  101. 
o    °     Stultust,  qui  cupitacupieus  cupicntor  cupit. 

Enn.  p.  43,  v.  256. 
Quam  tibi  ex  ore  orationem  duriter  dictis  dedit. 

Enn.  p.  44,  v.  265. 
Qui  alteri  cxitiun;  parat, 
Eum  scire  oportet,  sibi  paratum  pcstcm  ut  participet  parem. 

Enn.  p.  51,  TV.  321,  322. 

Pro  incertis  certos  compotesque  consili. 

Enn.  p.  55,  v.  352. 
Umquam  quidquam  quisquam  cuiquam  quod  ei  conveniat,  neget. 

Enn.  p.  Gl,  v.  4lX). 
Hiat  solUcita,  studio  obstupida,  suspense  animo  civitas. 

Paciiv.  p.  68,  V.  53. 
Quo  consilio  constcrnatur,  qua  vi,  cujus  copiis. 

Paciiv.  p.  SO,  V.  15G. 


«  Bergkh,  Poet.  Lyr.  Gr.     Ed.  2da,  p.  4CS    Diog.  Laert.  Tiii,  65. 


102  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

Lassitudinemqne  minuam  manuum  mollitudine. 

Pacuv.  p.  90,  Y.  246. 
Pericre  Dauai,  plcra  pars  pessum  datur. 

Pacuv.  p.  98,  V.  320 
Cum  patre  parvos  patrium  hostifice 
Sanguiue  sanguen  miscere  suo. 

ML  p.  123,  TV.  82,  83. 
An  mala  a:tate  mavis  male  mulcari  exemplis  omnibus. 

Jit.  p.  123,  V.  85. 
Probis  probatuni  potius  quam  multis  fore. 

Alt.  p.  1-19,  V.  314. 
Primores  procerum  provocavit  nomine. 

Att.  p.  150,  V.  325. 
Gaudent,  currunt,  celebrant,  herbam  couferunt,  donant,  tenent, 
Pro  se  quisque  cum  corona  clarum  cohonestat  caput. 

Alt.  p.  16i,  YT.  444,  445. 
Simnl  et  circum  magna  sonantibus 
Excita  saxis  suavisona  echo 
Crepitu  clangentc  cachinat. 

Att.  p.  179,  Yv.  671,  572. 
Tuum  coDJecturam  postulat  pacem  petens. 

c  o  o  o 

Apollo,  piierum  primus  Priamo  qui  foret. 

Inccrt.  Incert.  p.  201,  vv.  10-14. 
Qood  ni  Palamodi  perspicax  prudentia. 

Incert.  Incert.,  p.  206,  T.  58. 

Assuredly  this  is  an  ample  collection  of  specimens  to  demonslrate 
the  licentious  employment  of  alliteration  by  the  Avhole  range  of  the 
tragedians  before  the  Augustan  age.  This  affectation  naturally 
superinduces  other  fantasies,  vrhicli  are  also  exhibited  in  the  above 
quotations. 

Notwithstanding  the  defects  and  the  asperities  of  the  versification, 
and  numerous  other  grave  anomalies  of  expression,  there  are  quali- 
ties discernible  even  in  these  fragmentary  particles  of  the  old 
Roman  tragedy  which  are  exceedingly  attractive,  and  readily  explain 
those  lingering  predilections  for  this  antiquated  literature  which 
were  ridiculed  and  assailed  by  Jlorace.-'^  There  is  a  healthy 
Roman  honesty  and  manliness  in  the  sentiments  announced:  a 
quaint  but  dignified  gravity  and  solemnity  of  utterance  which 
well  befitted  the  conquerors  of  the  world:  an  intuitive  sagacity 
and  a  keen  appreciation  of  life  which  reappear  in  Tacitus,  and 
irradiate  even  the  scandal  of  Suetonius  and  the  trashy  niaiscries  of 
the  Augustan  historians,  and  are  revived  in  more  than  their  pris- 
tine intensity'  and  acumen  in  Machiavclli,   Guicciardini,  and   the 

°  Ilor.  Epist.  lib.  ii,  Ep.  i,  vv.  50-92.  The  general  good  sense  of  Horace's  criti- 
cisms can  be  recognised  even  from  these  fragments  of  the  elder  literature,  and 
renders  their  pointed  indications  valuable. 


1856.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  103 

great  statesmen,  publicists,  and  diplomatists  of  Italy.  We  detect, 
moreover,  a  genial  freshness  and  a  racy  vigour,  whose  absence  iu 
the  Augustan  classics  is  poorly  compensated  by  the  splendid  refine- 
ments of  consummate  art.  These  old  dramatists  still  exhale  the  air 
and  the  simplicity  of  rural  Roman  life,  before  it  had  been  sup- 
planted or  infected  by  metropolitan  graces  and  artificial  pretensions, 
and  -ft'hich  are  more  inspiring  than  the  prim,  stately,  and  precise 
elegances  of  an  over- exquisite  cultivation.  As  the  old  French  of 
Rabelais,  Montaigne,  Marguerite  de  Valois,  Ronsard,  and  Marot 
has  a  natural  and  genial  charm  Aihich  is  denied  to  the  cramped  and 
chilly  perfection  of  Racine,  Boileau,  La  Rochefoucault,  and  La 
Bruyere,  so  these  loose  disjointed  fragments  of  the  elder  tragedy 
possess  attractions  -which  are  not  preserved  in  the  more  regular  and 
prudish  proprieties  of  Virgil  and  Horace.  The  indications  afforded 
even  in  this  collection  would  tempt  us  to  resign,  without  hesitation, 
the  last  six  books  of  the  iEneid,  in  spite  of  the  universal  and  endur- 
ing fame  of  that  admired  epic,  for  the  poem  of  Nsevius  on  the  First 
Punic  "War,  and  the  Annals  of  Ennius. 

\Ye  are  neither  so  uncultivated  in  our  tastes,  nor  so  indiscreet  in 
our  judgment  as  to  pretend  to  institute  any  equivalence  or  compari- 
son between  the  rude  vigour  of  the  ancient  and  the  finished  perfec- 
tion of  the  Augustan  poets ;  but  we  would  expect  to  find  in  Krevius 
and  Ennius  a  bolder  vein  of  original  poetry,  a  greater  exuberance  of 
poetic  feeling,  than  can  be  recognised  in  the  erudite  and  laborious 
imitations  of  Virgil.  Independent,  too,  of  these  literary  merits,  the 
primitive  poetic  annals  would  possess  great  interest  in  the  elucida- 
tion of  the  history  of  both  the  people  and  the  language.  Our  con- 
sent to  the  sacrifice  intimated  is  not,  however,  suggested  by  such 
historical  and  philological  considerations,  but  solely  by  the  desire  to 
possess  the  earliest  specimens  of  the  Roman  epos,  and  a  partiality 
for  the  strength,  energy,  and  simplicity  of  the  older  literature.  In 
all  depai'tmcnts  of  art,  notwithstanding  the  greater  beauties  intro- 
duced by  hip;her  cultm'C  and  embodied  in  tlie  master- wurks  of  the 
meridian  age,  thei'e  are  merits  peculiar  to  the  antecedent  periods, 
which  are  not  fully  compensated  by  the  riper  and  chaster  graces  of 
the  more  polished  age.  Even  now,  Avith  the  opportunity  of  a  minute 
comparison,  having  equal  means  of  estimating  each  and  being  equally 
familiar  with  both,  we  would  not  resign  /Eschylus  to  save  Sophocles, 
if  an  option  were  required ;  and  if  the  choice  should  be  offered 
between  u'Eschylus  and  Euripides,  we  would  cordially  reaffirm  the 
decision  rendered  by  Racchus  in  the  Frogs  of  Aristophanes.* 

®  Aristoph.  Ran.  t.  1469.    Ed.  Bckkcr.     Lond. 


104  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

Wc  should  be  pleased  to  illustrate  by  direct  citation  the  charac- 
teristics of  Roman  Tragedy  Avhich  have  been  hurriedly  indicated  if 
our  space  Avould  permit  the  undertaking.  We  should  be  gratified 
to  exhibit  the  lofty  sentiments,  the  acute  maxims,  the  sententious 
■wisdom,  the  pregnant  utterance,  and,  above  all,  the  exhilarating 
freshness  of  these  old  tragedians.  This  last  peculiarity  is  often 
indicated  by  slight  touches  which  must  be  felt  spontaneously  to  be 
adequately  recognised  :  there  are  but  few  examples  remaining  which, 
taken  b}'  themselves,  directly  indicate  the  spirit  with  which  they  are 
impregnated;  but  these  arc  so  characteristic,  so  accordant  with  the 
general  tone  of  the  utterance— so  utterly  foreign  to  the  Greek  mind, 
except  in  the  single  case  of  Homer — that  vre  may  safely  ascribe  the 
quahtics  evinced  by  them  to  the  general  tenor  of  the  original  por- 
tions of  these  productions  when  they  still  existed  unmutilated. 

A  few  of  these  examples  we  shall  venture  to  quote  : — 

Hoc  Tide  circura  supraque  quod  complexu  continct 

Terrain 

Solisque  cxortu  capessit  candorcm,  occasu  nigret, 

Id  quod  nostri  caelum  memorant,  Graii  pt'rhibet  aetbera : 

Quidquid  est  hoc,  omnia  animat,  format,  alit,  auget,  creat, 

Sepelit  recipitque  ni  sese  omnia,  omniumque  idem  est  pater, 

Indidemque  eadem  quae  oriuntur,  de  integro  atque  eodem  occidunt.° 

With  the  philosophy,  good  or  bad,  propounded  in  these  lines  we 
have  no  present  concern ;  the  sole  thing  to  which  we  are  desirous 
of  calling  attention  is  the  close  observance  of  nature  and  the 
sympathy  with  her  changes  which  they  display. 

Here  is  a  solitary  line  Avhich  could  scarcely  have  been  written  by 
one  not  intimately  familiar  with  rustic  life,  or  without  a  genial  inter- 
est in  its  trivial  incidents. 

Item  ac  ma.>stitlam  mutam  infantum  quadrupedum.f 

We  doubt  whether  the  habitual  resident  of  a  great  city  can  ap- 
preciate this  notice  of  the  dumb  suftering  and  agony  of  infant  beasts. 
It  is  a  spectacle  sufficiently  striking  to  affect  the  imagination  and 
excite  the  sympathy  of  persons  who  have  spent  much  of  their  lives 
in  the  country.  The  silent  anguish,  the  look  of  helpless  pain  man- 
ifested by  some  of  the  domestic  animals  are  well  calculated  to  elicit 
a  mournful' pity. 

But  the  most  marked  of  these  passages  is  one  which  we  believe 
to  be  altogether  unique  in  the  whole  series  of  the  still  surviving 
productions  of  Roman  literature.     ]t  seems  to  have  made  a  very 

«Trag.  Lat.  Ecliqu. :  p.  71,  72,  vv.  SC-02.     Chryses.  Frag.  vi. 

t  Trag.  Lat.  Reliqu.:  p.  149,  v.  315.    Attii  Epicansimaclie,  Fr.  vi. 


1S5G.]  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  105 

strong;  impression  on  the  mind  of  Cicero,  by  whom  it  has  been  pre- 
served, though  without  commemoration  of  the  author.* 

Coclum  iiitcscerc,  arbores  froiidescere, 

Vites  laetificyj  pampinis  y.ubesccre. 

Rami  baccarum  ubertati?  incurvcsccre, 

Segctes  largiri  frugcs,  tiorerc  omnia, 

Fontcs  scatcre,  herbis  prata  convestiricr. 
The  language  is  inharmonious  and  nei^ligent  enough,  and  has  its 
full  shave  of  affectations,  but  there  i?  nothing  in  either  the  Lucolics 
or  the  Georgics  of  Virgil  which  is  as  redolent  of  the  fragrance  of 
the  forest  and  the  field,  or  which  brings  home  to  us  more  forcibly 
the  aspects  of  rural  life  and  the  genial  vicissitudes  of  the  changing 
year.  The  subject  and  the  form  of  expression  may  excite  a  doubt 
whether  these  verses  are  of  tragic  or  even  of  dramatic  origin,  or  do 
not  rather  belong  to  a  lyric  poem  or  a  song  of  harvest  home.  The 
latter  supposition  is  strengthened  by  their  consonance  with  the  rustic 
feeling  of  poetry  which  manifests  itself  in  the  phrases  reported  by 
Cicero,  " genunarc  vites,^''  "'' luxuriem  esse  in  herhis/^  "  Icrtas  sc- 
gctesj'j  and  mentioned  by  him  in  connexion  vrith  a  passing  allusion 
to  one  of  these  lines.  Still,  JNI.  Ribbeck  has  received  them  as  a 
genuine  tragic  relic,  and  as  such  we  accept  them  for  the  reason  pre- 
viou?ly  stated.  AYhatever  their  origin  may  be,  they  are  animated 
with  that  healthy,  genial,  lively,  observant  and  affectionate  regard 
for  the  scenes  of  nature  which  so  pre-eminently  characterizes  the 
Provencal  songs. 

We  were  the  more  anxious  to  note  this  feature  in  the  ancient 
Latin  poetry,  inasmuch  as  it  is  so  foreign  to  its  classical  productions, 
which  paint  nature  too  often  with  the  fancy  of  a  Cockney.  Moreover, 
this  element  is  distinctl}'  of  Roman  and  not  of  Greek  origin.  At 
the  outset  of  these  remarks,  we  spoke  in  such  sharp  terms  of  derision 
of  the  derivative  and  Hellenic  character  of  the  whole  body  of  Latin 
literature,  and  of  Latin  tragedy  in  particular,  that  we  are  glad  to 
mitigate  that  censure,  as  far  as  may  be  consistent  with  the  facts,  by 
directing  attention  to  the  evidences  of  a  genuine  and  native  poetic 
tendency,  in  a  form  so  meritorious  and  so  rare  among  the  ancients. 
Humboldt  i  has  remarked  the  deficiency  of  sympathetic  apprecia- 
tion of  the  detailed  beauties  of  nature  on  the  part  of  both  the  Greek? 
and  the  Romans,  but  the  passages  cited,  and  others  of  a  similar 
complexion  which  may  be  gathered  from  this  repertory  of  mangled 
skeletons,  may  suggest  that  there  was  a  period  of  Roman  develop- 
ment, and  a  branch  of  Roman  literature,  wherein  the  Roman  poets 
**  Trag.  Lat.  Ilel. :  p.  217,  vv,  133-7.  Inc.  Inc.  Fab.  Fr.  Ixxii.  Cic.  Tusc. 
I'isp.  I.,  xxviii,  sec.  CD.  f  Cic.  De  Or.  Ill,  xxxvviii,  sec.  15.5. 

1  Humboldt,  Cosmos.,  vol.  ii,  p.  373.     Ed.  Bjhn. 

Fourth  Series.— Vol.  VHI.— T 


106  Remains  of  Latin  Tragedy.  [January, 

freely  yielded  to  the  hearty  influences  of  the  country  life  still  habit- 
ual with  the  people,  and  reproduced  its  teachings  in  their  artistio 
labours. 

There  is  neither  opportunity  nor  necessity  to  give  utterance  to 
all  the  reflections  suggested  by  this  volume,  "  car  qui  pourrait  dire 
tout  sans  un  mortel  ennui ':''  ^luch  forbearance  and  some  discretion 
must  alv.-ays  be  exercised  in  repressing  the  observations  which  seek 
expression  iu  relation  to  any  subject.  Wc  have  announced  only  a 
few  of  the  views  which  have  presented  themselves  to  us  on  the 
present  occasion;  but  they  may  suffice  to  give  a  satisfactory  re- 
sponse to  the  question  with  which  we  commenced  these  remarks, 
and  to  show  that  many  instructive  lessons  may  be  acquired  even 
from  the  shattered  relics  of  an  antiquated,  extinct,  and  almost  for- 
gotten department  of  literature.  Very  many  of  these  lessons  we 
have  passed  over  in  silence  ;  the  most  important  we  have  exhibited 
only  briefly — so  briefly  as  to  afford  only  a  limited  insight  into  their 
character  and  use.  .Nevertheless,  enough  has  been  said  to  render 
intelligible  the  acknoAvlcdgment  of  our  gratification  at  receivinf^  the 
fruits  of  Otto  Ilibbeck's  labours,  notwithstanding  they  are  burdened 
vith  the  erudite  and  cumbrous  divinations  of  his  imaginative  cora- 
inentar\\ 

Is  it  not  a  remarkable  and  mournful  exemplification  of  the  per- 
ishable nature  of  every  human  device,  and  of  the  evanescence  of 
even  high  intellectual  triumphs,  that  a  copious  body  of  literature. 
which  won  even  the  fastidious  admiration  of  Cicero,  and  the  partial 
homage  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  and  formed  at  one  time  the  most 
refined  enjoyment  of  a  great  people,  should  have  been  so  completely 
dissipated  by  the  changes  of  literary  taste  and  the  accidents  of  time, 
as  to  be  reduced  to  these  scanty  and  petty  memorials  of  their  former 
glory  ? 

Shrine  of  the  mighty  !  can  it  be 
That  this  is  all  remains  of  thcc  ? 

The  longest  of  these  fragments  does  not  exceed  a  dozen  lines- 
many  of  them  consist  of  only  a  single  verse,  and  in  numerous  in- 
stances the  solitary  verse  is  incomplete,  or  is  reduced  to  a  phraso 
or  a  word.  The  aggregate  of  these  remains,  capable  of  being  ex- 
hibited under  a  metrical  aspect,  docs  not  attain  to  two  thousand 
lines,  iu  this  collection.  This  is  all  that  has  been  saved  from  the 
>vreck  of  the  ante- Augustan  tragedy  of  Kome,  and  constitutes  tho 
Tr(ia;icoyum.  LtUinnriim  Rcliquio'.. 

We  have  only  to  add  that  the  work  is  beautifully  printed  on  ex- 
cellent paper,  and  is  a  very  handsome  specimen  of  the  improved 
typography  and  preparation  of  recent  German  publications. 


1856.3  Robert  Newton.  107 


Art.  v.— ROBERT  NEWTON. 

Tht  Life  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Newton,  D.  D.     By  Thomas  Jackson.      New- York: 
Carlton  &  Phillips.     1S55. 

"  BosWELL,"  says  Macaulay,  "is  the  first  of  biographers.  He  has 
no  second.  He  has  distanced  oil  his  competitors  so  decidedly,  that 
it  is  not  Avorth  Avhile  to  place  them.  Eclipse  is  first,  and  the  rest 
noM-here." 

It  is  one  of  the  strange  things  in  literature— a  real  phenomenon— 
that  in  all  the  "  Lives  "  of  great  men  and  small,  learned  and  unlearned, 
good  and  bad,  there  are  so  few  interesting,  readable,  and  instructive 
biographies.  Instead  of  what  we  want  to  know  of  a  man,  about 
whom  or  concerning  whose  actions  or  the  results  of  M'hose  coui'se  of 
life  we  feel  an  interest,  we  are  furnished,  by  his  biographer,  witli  a 
resume  of  the  history  of  the,times  in  which  he  lived;  philosophical 
speculations  on  government ;  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires ;  essays  on 
the  wordy  warfare  of  the  sects ;  or  a  rhapsodical  eulogy  on  the  real 
or  fancied  greatness  of  his  subject.  All,  or  nearly  all,  that  we  knov? 
about  him,  after  reading  from  five  hundred,  to  a  thousand  pages. 
more  than  we  knew  before,  is  the  precise  time  of  his  birth,  and,  it 
may  be,  some  particular  circumstances  attending  his  death.  Per- 
haps we  may  learn  that  on  some  day  he  went  without  his  supper — 
what  m.any  a  one  has  often  done — and  that  by  drinking  a  cup  of 
green  tea  instead  of  black,  he  was  kept  awake  when  he  very  much 
desired  to  sleep. 

It  is  supposed,  and  with  reason,  too,  when  one  man  undertakes 
to  write  a  "  life  "  of  another,  that  he  has  materials  for  the  biography; 
else  why  undertake  it?  If  what  was  upon  the  surface  only,  and 
•what  consequently  Avas  known  to  all,  is  to  be  thrown  together  in 
compilation,  why  tax  our  pockets  for  what  avc  already  possess':?  A 
"life,"  in  an  important  sense,  is  an  original  work.  It  is  a  compilation 
not  from  published  docunients  mereh',  but  from  the  private  records 
of  the  subject,  now  no  longer  of  use  to  him,  and  from  the  memo- 
randa of  friends.  It  is  a  revelation  to  the  multitude  of  what  v.as 
known  before  only  to  the  few.  The  Avriter  of  a  "  life  "  either  has  the 
necessary  materials  for  his  work  or  he  has  not.  If  he  has  them  not 
he  has  no  moral  right  to  publish  what  purports  to  be  a  biogrnphy, 
•when,  in  fact,  it  is  not.  Such  a  practice  is  fiilse  pretense  in  litera- 
ture; and  the  author  if  he  be  not  sent  to  Newgate,  is  subject  to 
what  perhaps   is  more  annoying  to   him-»-the   castigation   of  the 


r08  Robert  Nemton.  [January, 

critics.  If  he  has  the  materials  and  a  good  subject,  and  fails  in  his 
undertaking,  he  has  missed  his  calling;  whatever  else  he  does,  he 
had  better  not  write  "lives." 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  biographies  of  those  whose 
example  is  worthy  of  imitation  should  be  deficient  in  what  gives  to 
such  compositions  one  of  their  greatest  charms— incidents  and 
illustrations  of  Ufe ;  especially  because,  in  spite  of  such  defects, 
they  are  sought  after  with  avidity  and  read  by  all  classes  of  persons. 
Law-books  find  their  way  mostly  into  the  untidy,  smoky  offices  of 
the  profession.  Polemic  divinity,  elaborate  essays  on  Church  dog- 
mas, and  old  sermons,  interlarded  with  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew, 
borrowed  from  the  books,  go  to  the  shelves  of  clergymen,  for  the 
most  part,  v.here  quite  generally  their  slumbers  are  profound  and 
undisturbed.  Philosophy  is  taught  in  the  schools ;  but  only  a  few 
schoolmen  read  philosophy.  jSTot  so  with  biogi-aphy ;  that  is  read 
by  men,  women,  and  children.  There  is  a  reason  for  this;  indeed 
there  is  a  deep  philosophy  in  the  fact :  biography  is  the  written  life 
of  man.  AVe  have  conseciuently  an  interest  in  it  of  which  we  can- 
not divest  ourselves  if  we  would,  and  of  which  we  would  not  if  we 
could.  Besides,  the  design  of  biography  is  to  show  us  how  to  live 
by  showing  us  how  others  lived.  If  it  does  not  do  this  it  fails  in  an 
important  essential. 

What  we  want,  and  what  we  expect,  in  the  biography  of  a  man 
whose  talents,  virtues,  position,  and  achievements  were  such  as  to 
make  his  history  necessary  or  desirable,  is  to  know  how  he  devel- 
oped those  talents ;  how  he  cultivated  and  fostered  those  virtues ; 
by  what  means  he  obtained  his  position,  and  how  he  accomplished 
his  achievements.  The  privacies  of  life,  the  inner  man,  the  thoughts, 
the  actions,  the  words,  the  freaks,  the  beauties  and  deformities  of  his 
social  life;  his  manner  of  life  in  his  own  house,  his  carriage  towards  his 
wife,  his  habits  with  his  children,  his  hours  of  study ;  his  authors, 
how  he  used  them  and  what  he  thought  of  them  -.  his  preparation 
for  public  life;  the  labour  and  time  required  for  this  preparation; 
adventittmis  circumstances  and  incidents,  ali-  these  are  barnrained 
for  in  the  purchase  of  the  "  life"  of  a  good  and  great  man.  Durin'^ 
the  occupancy  of  a  mansion  we  may  look  unbidden  upon  its  exter- 
■nal  beauties  and  magnificent  proportions.  'Without  the  owner's  per- 
mission or  invitation  we  may  not  cross  its  threshold :  but  if.  when 
-he  is  gone,  his  executor  opens  the  doors,  and  admits  us  on  fee,  wo 
have  a  riglit  to  see  the  house  within.  And  we  should  not  be  satis- 
fied to  enter  the  front  door  and  siin])ly  pass  through  the  main  hall 
<tothe  back  door,  and  out.  He,  without  a  further  exhibition,  would 
not  fulfil  his  implied  contract.     Ko  more  does  thewriter  of  a  '■  life"' 


1 856.]  Rohert  Newton.  ^109 

meet  his  obligation  to  furnisli  the  biography  of  a  great  public  man 
upon  whom,  as  ho  appeared  in  full  dress  upon  the  stage  for  more 
than  half  a  century,  yye  have  been  wont  to  gaze  with  admiration,  by 
merely  telling  us  when  he  was  born  and  when  he  died,  and  that  for 
thirty,  forty,  or  fifty  years  he  laboured  hard,  travelled  far,  preached 
m\ich,  did  good,  and  made  many  warm  friends. 
•  These  deficiencies  are  more  marked,  probably,  in  religious  biogra- 
jtliics  than  any  other. .  And  it  is  in  such  biographies  that  the  require- 
raents  of  society  demand  the  fullest  details  and  the  gi'eatest  perfection. 
Take  one  instance  in  proof  of  the  correctness  of  the  above  remark. 
John  Wesley  was  born  in  1703  ;  Samuel  Johnson  was  born  in  1709. 
But  to  this  day  we  have  no  satisfactory  life  of  Wesley.  The  best 
we  have — and  good,  very  good,  we  grant — is  his  own  journal 
Before  Wesley  died,  and  in  anticipation  of  that  event,  Hampson, 
who  was  indebted  to  him  for  bread,  and  education,  and  position, 
had  prepared  a  catch-penny  life  of  his  former  patron  and  friend. 
Coke  and  Moore,  that  they  might  anticipate  Whitehead,  prepared 
hastily  a  life  of  the  founder  of  Methodism,  which  is  important, 
mainly,  as  a  connecting  link  in  the  history  of  the  times.  Whiteheads 
biography  of  Wesley — the  better  portion  of  it — is  a  kind  of  mathe- 
matical twice-two-arc-four  life;  the  other  portion  of  it  is  distorted 
by  the  prejudice  of  the  author.  Moore's  life  is,  to  a  considerable 
extent,  too  identical  with  Whitehead's  to  be  of  special  importance, 
except  in  its  documents,  which  are  valuable  for  reference.  Southey, 
whose  biography,  in  many  respects,  is  the  best  and  worst  that  has 
yet  appeared,  viewed  Mr.  Wesley  from  a  wrong  stand-point,  and 
judged  him  by  a  wrong  philosophy.  It  is  no  marvel,  therefore,  that 
his  Life  of  Wesley  is  not  Wesley's  life.  Watson's  Wesley  was 
not  designed  to  be  a  comprehensive  biography,  but  a  review  of 
Southey,  and  a  defence  of  the  man  whose  memory  and  reputation 
were  dear  to  him.  As  such  it  is  able  and  conclusive.  Now  all  these 
lives  together — and  much  less  any  one  of  them — do  not  give  us  a 
complete  history  of  John  Wesley.  Such  a  life  we  need,  a  work  that 
will  find  its  way  into  all  libraries ;  a  work  that  will  present  Wesley, 
the  preacher,  the  reformer,  the  founder,  the  scholar,  the  author,  the 
publisher,  the  evangelist,  the  executive  officer,  the  friend  and  bene- 
factor of  the  poor;  Wesley  the  max,  interspersed  and  enlivened 
with  the  varying  and  interesting  incidents  and  anecdotes  lying  all 
along  the  pathway  of  his  eventful  life,  from  his  escape  from  the 
burning  rectory,  till,  in  accordance  vrith  his  ovrn  directions,  he  is 
carried  by  four  poor  men  to  his  grave.. ^  The  world  needs  such  a 
work.  The  children  of  Methodist  parents  demand  it.  Who,  of  all 
liis  sons,  will  furnish  it '?  .  .     '  ♦ 


ilO  Robert  Newton.  [January, 

Now  while  this  is  the  case  with  one  of  the  greatest  religious  men 
that  ever  lived,  how  is  it  with  Johnson  the  moralist,  who  was  con- 
temporary with  him?  The  Life  of  Johnson  is  without  an  equal.  It 
informs  us  hoAv  he  read  and  how  he  wrote.  ^Yesee  him  in  his  room 
with  his  cat  and  companions.  His  tricks  and  fanaticisms  are  all 
brought  out.  His  indulgences  and  subsequent  regrets  and  confes- 
sions are  not  withheld.  Johnson  in  rags,  eating  his  dinner  behind 
Bcreens ;  writing  for  bread,  and  subsequently  accomplishing  one  of 
the  greatest  literary  enterprises  ever  undertaken  by  man;  Johnsoa 
mhis  midnight  disputation  and  morning  slumbers ;  Johnson,  in  short, 
in  all  his  peculiarities — his  virtues  and  his  faults — is  so  fully  present- 
ed to  us  that  we  see  him  as  he  was.  Even  Jiis  ph3'sical  form  is 
impressed  upon  our  minds.  Without  the  aid  of  the  artist's  pencil 
we  have  his  picture  before  us.  The  Life  of  Johnson  grows  not 
tame.  We  never  weary  in  its  perusal.  After  reading  through 
volumes  purporting  to  be  biographies,  we  turn  to  Boswell's  John- 
son with  increasing  delight. 

We  must,  however,  check  this  train  of  thought;  and,  instead  of 
dwelling  upon  what  we  want,  turn  our  attention  to  the  volume  named 
at  the  head  of  this  article. 

It  is  a  rule  with  some  critics  to  speak  in  the  first  place  in  as  high 
praise  as  they  can  of  the  work  they  review,  that  they  may  thereby 
placate  the  disposition  of  their  author  so  that  he  will  the  more 
kindly  receive  what  fault  they  have  to  find  with  his  production. 
We  pursue  just  the  opposite  course  to  this.  We  find  what  fault  we 
have  to  find  with  Newton's  Life  at  once.  If  the  estimable  author 
and  the  friends  of  Mr.  Newton,  on  both  sides  of  the  -water,  shall  be 
displeased  with  us  therefor  we  shall  regret  that,  but  console  our- 
selves with  the  consciousness  of  honesty  and  fairness  in  our  review. 

The  work  abounds  in  panegyric.  The  author  at  times  is  quite 
rhapsodical  in  his  eulogy.     Take  the  following  as  an  instance  : — 

"  "When  the  service  had  eoncluded  many  of  tlie  people  still  lingereil.  appar- 
ently unwilling  to  leave  the  spot;  thus  e.\empiityin<j  the  feeling  which  I\lilton 
bas  ascribed  to  the  father  of  the  human  race  after  he  had  listened  to  the  dis- 
course of  a  heavenly  messenger: — 

'"The  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  car 

So  charming  left  Lis  voice,  that  he  awhile 
Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fix'dto  hear.'" — Pp.  2CX),  201. 

Robert  Newton,  while  he  tabernacled  in  the  flesh,  could  hardly 
have  been  aware  of  the  possession  of  such  angelic  power.  And, 
with  our  e.xalted  conceptions  of  his  pulpit  eloquence,  wo  think  tho 
picture  is  somewhat  overdrawn. 


1856]  Robert  Newton.  Ill 

While  teuton's  Life  abounds  in  eulogy  it  is  ban-en  in  incident. 
For  fifty  years  he  was  itinerating — visiting  various  parts  of  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland;  travelling  by  sea  and  land,  by  public  and 
private  conveyance,  and  thrown,  as  we  may  suppose,  into  nearly  all 
conceivable  circumstances  in  life.  He  must  have  been  the  subject 
of  many  adventures.  Pleasing  and  varying  incident  must  have 
been  ever  and  auon  occurring  in  his  history.  Incidents  enough  of 
this  kind  to  make  a  small  volume  must  have  happened  in  connexion 
with  that  annual  visit  to  Derby!  Yet  we  look  in  vain  for  them. 
There  are  a  few  anecdotes  in  the  volume,  and  those  are  so  interest- 
ing that  they  m.ake  us  wish  for  more.  But  throughout  the  entire 
work  incidents  and  anecdotes  are,  like  angel's  visits,  few  and  far 
between. 

In  the  chapter  containing  the  account  of  Mr.  2^ewton's  visit  to 
America,  a  number  of  errors  occur,  some  of  which  we  must  correct. 
Mr.  Jackson  says,  that  at  the  church  where  Newton  delivered  his  first 
sermon  in  Kew-York  Mr.  Souter,  his  travelling  companion,  was 
"  allowed  to  sit  within  the  communion  rails — an  honour  which  he 
found  is  not  conceded  to  laymen  in  the  American  churches." 
(P.  193.)  This  is  a  subject  w^e  never  hear  agitated.  Our  laymen 
have  no  desire  to  sit  within  the  altar,  as  we  say  in  this  country, 
except  when  they  conduct  prayer-meetings,  or  when  the  audience- 
room  is  crowded.  No  allowing  and  no  conceding  are  thought  of. 
The  design  in  this  case  was  to  treat  Mr.  Souter,  as  a  stranger  and 
travelling  companion  of  Mr.  Newton,  politely,  and  to  give  him  a 
seat  where  he  could  be  more  comfortable  than  in  a  crowded  pew. 

At  the  missionary  meeting  in  the  Greene-street  Church,  after  Mr. 
Newton  had  spoken,  "an  aged  man,"  says  Mr.  Jackson,  "from  the 
country,  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat, 
saying,  to  the  person  who  sat  ne.xt  to  him,  '  we  shall  have  no  pow- 
dery ware  now,  1  guess.' "  (P.  191.)  It  seems  a  pity  to  spoil  the 
salt-water  rhetoric  and  upland  rusticity  of  this  sentence.  Still  ifc 
Tnay  be  best  to  do  it.  The  "aged  man  from  the  country"  v.-as  a 
venerable  minister  and  presiding  elder  of  a  large  district,  and  was 
present  to  participate  in  the  pleasures  of  the  missionary  meeting. 
It  is  highly  probable,  though  he  was  from  the  country,  that  he  had 
a  handkerchief,  and  knew  its  ordinary  uses.  "  Powdery  ware  "  is 
language  he  would  not  use  when  he  meant  to  say  powder  xoar.  At 
the  time  of  this  meeting  the  political  relations  of  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States  were  much  disturbed,  growing  out  of  the  boundary 
question.  The  "wordy  war"  was  already  pretty  sharp.  Mr. 
Newton,  in  his  address,  spoke  of  the  Christian  regard  of  the  people 
of  England  for  the  people  of  this  country — the  importance  to  Chris- 


112  Robert  Newton.  [January, 

tianity  of  the  union  of  the  two  nations — and  the  salutations  with 
which  he  was  charged  as  a  delegate  to  the  people  whom  he  addressed. 
It  was  upon  Mr.  Newton's  warm  expression  of  such  kindly  feelings 
that  the  gentleman  said  to  his  neighbour  on  the  platform,  ''  we  shall 
have  no  powder  war," — implying  that  our  difficulties,  if  such  were 
the  feelings  and  views  of  the  people  of  England,  would  all  be  settled 
by  diplomacy.  His  remarks  showed  liis  just  appreciation  of  the 
Christianity  of  the  two  nations,  and  hi?  own  desire  for  the  greatest 
of  all  national  blessings, — peace,  based  upon  recognised  constitu- 
tional right. 

■  A  slight  and  laughable  mistake,  according  to  Mr.  Jackson, 
occuiTcd  in  connexion  with  Mr.  Newton's  first  visit  to  Phila- 
delphia : — 

"  Before  the  service  commenced  Mr.  Souter  wa.s  introduced  Avithin  the  com- 
munion rails  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  and  -ivas  mistaken,  by  the  immense  a-sem- 
bly,  for  }*Ir.  Newton.  The  choir  had  prepurod  an  anthem,  which  they  intended 
to  sinn;  in  honour  of  the  distinguished  stranger  and  as  a  welcome  to  their  city. 
This  they  saner  in  their  best  style,  tlie  congregation  joining  as  well  as  they 
•were  able,  and  all  looking  at  >dr.  Souter,  who'felt  that  heVas  receiving  the 
respect  which  did  not  belong  to  him.  and  which  the  people  did  not  intend  to  pay 
him ;  they  probably  wondering  that  he  should  betray  any  signs  of  uneasiness. 
AVheu  the  anthem  v,-as  finished,  Mr.  Newton  entered  the  church  and  ascended 
the  pulpit,  and  the  choristers  and  peoiile  perceived  that  they  had  mistaken 
their  man  ;  but  it  wns  too  late  to  correct  the  error.  Wlien  the  service  was 
ended  and  the  case  was  stated  to  ^Ir.  Newton,  he  was  highly  amused,  and  said 
to  his  friend  Souter, '  You  have  taken  the  shine  otrme.' " — Pp.  190,  197, 

We  can  fancy  that  Mr.  Souter's  position  must  have  been  embar- 
rassing enough,  and  it  vras  not  good  treatment  to  put  him  in  such  a 
position.  A  few  words  of  explanation  will  change  the  whole  thing. 
In  the  first  place  it  was  the  children  of  the  Sabbath  school,  and  not 
the  choir,  that  sung  the  hymn  of  welcome  on  the  occasion.  In  the 
second  place,  Mr.  Newton  had  been  conducted  to  the  pulpit  by  the 
pastor  of  the  church,  and  furnished  with  a  copy  of  the  hymn.  At 
the  close  he  expressed  his  pleasure  v,-it!t  the  mark  of  respect  shown 
him  by  the  little  ones.  The  fritiuis  uf  !\Ir.  Newton  may  rest  assured 
that  the  Philadelphians  did  not  allow  even  Mr.  Souter  to  "  take  the 
shine  ofT"  of  him  wliile  he  was  in  their  keeping. 


Mr.  Newton,  having  been  introduced  to  the  General  Confer 


ence. 


"  a  vote  was  passed,"  says  Islv.  Jackson,  "  authorizing  him  to  sit  in  the 
conference,  and  to  vote  on  nil  qucsfions  that  might  arise."'  (P.  19S.) 
The  General  Conference  might  invite  Mr.  Newton  to  a  seat  among 
its  members  and  to  participate  in  their  discu.'sions;  but  it  could  not 
authorize  him  to  vote.  The  General  Conference  is  a  delegated  and 
law-making  body.  The  members  hold  their  seats  by  the  election 
of  the  annual  conferences.     A  single  vote  may  carry  most  important 


1656.J  Robert  Neiuton.  113 

temporal  and  spiritual  results.  Even  the  bishops  can  claim  no  right 
to  vote.  We  make  this  correction  lest  some,  not  conversant  with  the 
proceedings  of  the  General  Conference,  should  suppose  it  has  a 
loose  way  of  doing  its  business. 

The  following  passage,  without  design  we  may  readily  believe, 
does  injustice  both  to  the  General  Conference  of  1840  and  to  3Ir. 
Newton : — 

"111  the  progress  of  the  Conference  Mr.  Xewton  was  impressed  with  tho 
fact,  that  tho  time  was  mainly  occupied  by  the  speeches  of  young  men.  minis- 
ters of  age  and  c.tperience  being  scarcely  able  to  obtain  a  hearing.  Av.iiling 
liimself,  theretbrc,  of  a  favourable  opportunity,  he  spoke  of  the  respect  vIulIi  is 
due  to  age,  and  especially  to  aged  ministers,  who  have  been  long  iamiliar  with 
the  work  of  God,  and  whose  range  of  observation  has  been  -widely  extended. 
These  arc  the  men,  he  observed,  who  are  eminendy  qualified  to  give  advice 
in  ecclesiastical  aflairs ;  tor  their  counsels  are  not  speculative,  but  practical. 
The  bishojjs  shed  tears  under  this  seasonable  address,  and  no  one  attempted 
any  reply."— P.  199. 

"We  remark  here,  that  the  members  of  the  General  Conference  do 
not  hold  their  seats  by  seniority.  They  arc  all  elected  by  their 
annual  conferences,  A^hich  of  course  they  are  expected  to  represent. 
One  member,  therefore,  has  the  same  rights  on  the  floor  of  the 
General  Conference  that  another  has.  And  no  member,  even  out  of 
deference  to  age  and  position,  would  be  justified  in  neglecting  to 
present  and  defend  the  views  and  wishes  of  those  who  elected  him. 
It  is  the  annual  conference  that  appears  in  tho  persons  of  its  dele- 
gates on  the  floor  of  the  General  Conference. 

Mr.  Jackson  says,  "  the  time  was  mainhj  occupied  by  the  sjteechcs 
of  young  men,  ministers  of  age  and  experience  being  scarceh'  able  to 
obtain  a  hearing."  We  know  not  from  what  source  31r.  Jackson 
derived  his  information,  nor  is  it  important  to  our  purpose  to  know. 
It  is  to  be  presumed,  however,  as  these  "  young  men  "  presented  a 
"  very  respectable  appearance,"  and  "  were  highly  intelligent,"  that  for 
the  most  part  they  were  well-bred  persons,  and  understood  tho  pro- 
prieties of  place.  And,  knowing  somewhat  the  spirit  and  bearing  of 
our  younger  and  middle-aged  ministers,  Ave  have  no  doubt  while, 
like  true  Americans — blessings  on  them  I — they  thought,  spoke,  and 
acted  with  entire  freedom,  conscious  of  their  rights,  and  under  a 
proper  sense  of  their  responsibilities,  they  were,  at  the  same  time, 
respectful  and  courteous  toward  their  more  aged  brethren  and 
fathers  in  the  conference.  Besides,  we  cannot  sec  how  it  was  that 
the  "  ministers  of  experience"  were  "  scarcely  able  to  obtain  a  hear- 
ing," when  the  tenth  rule  of  the  General  Conference  requires  that 
no  person  shall  "  speak  more  than  once "  on  the  same  question 
*'  until  every  member  choosing  to  speak  shall  have  spoken." 


114  Robert  Newton.  [January, 

We  suppose  ^Ir.  Jackson  uses  a  little  rhetoric  -fthen  he  says  that 
"  the  bishops  shod  tears  under  this  seasonable  address."  Our  bishops 
know  their  younger  ministers  too  well,  and  receive  from  them — as 
other  chief  ministers  and  fathers  do — too  much  deference  to  feel  that 
a  public  address,  on  the  respect  due  to  age  and  experience — and 
that  from  a  stranger  too — would  be  necessary  for  them,  or  that  they 
Avould  consider  such  an  address  so  "  seasonable"  as  to  "  shed  tears 
under  it."  Had  Mr.  JSewton  delivered  such  an  address  before  the 
General  Conference,  designing  it  as  a  rebuke  to  the  younger  portion 
of  the  members,  Ave  very  much  mistake  the  bishops  if  they  would  not 
have  been  among  the  first  to  rebuke  it.  In  such  a  case  they  might — 
and  it  would  be  no  marvel — shed  tears  over  the  address.  And  the 
reasons  wiiy,  in  such  circumstances,  "  no  one  would  attempt  any 
reply"  are  quite  obvious. 

This  passage,  as  we  remark  above,  docs,  wc  think,  injustice  to 
Mr.  J^ewton.  IS'aughty  as  the  younger  members  of  the  General  Con- 
ference of  1S40  may  have  been,  !Mr.  Newton  was  too  much  of  the 
Christian  gentleman  to  offer  them  reproof  for  what  did  not  especially 
concern  him.  If  they  forgot  the  proprieties  of  place  we  are  not 
willing  to  suppose  that  he  did.  His  intercourse  with  his  brethren, 
both  in  and  out  of  the  conference,  during  his  whole  sojourn  among 
us,  was  gcntlcm.anly  and  Christian  in  an  eminent  degree.  If  the 
passage  quoted  above  were  from  the  pen  of  a  political  writer,  we 
should  understand  at  once  that  it  Avas  written  for  political  effect. 
Did  Mr.  Jackson  design  it  especially  for  the  younger  members  of 
the  British  Conference  ? 

Mr.  I\'cwton's  ministry  in  America  was  attended  by  large  multi- 
tudes of  hearers.  But  popular  assemblico  are  generally  over  esti- 
mated as  to  numbers.  Those  acquainlod  with  the  places  in  Avhich 
he  preached  will  make  a  liberal  deduction  from  the  numbers  report- 
ed to  have  been  present.  ^Ve  refer  to  these  things  because,  though 
they  may  seem  small  in  themselves,  they  arc  nob  unimportant.  In 
the  life  of  such  a  man  as  Di-.  Nev>ton,  whatever  is  not  entirely  true 
has  no  place.  The  partiality  of  friends,  or  the  Avant  of  a  compre- 
ben.sive  view  of  all  the  circumstances  of  time  and  place,  may  often 
lead  the  best  meaning  persons  into  erroneous  conclusions,  and  to 
make  false  estimates. 

As  Mr.  Newton's  Life  will  have  an  extensive  circulation  in  this 
country,  it  Avill  not  be  amiss  to  notice  his  views  on  two  or  three 
points  cormected  Avith  our  hiiitury  and  economv. 

In  Avriting  to  Mrs.  NcAvton  from  Baltimore,  he  says: — 

"  I  have  refused  all  invitations  to  attend  tcinpcrancc  and  abolition  meetlnes. 
Both  parties  arc  so  violent  and  ultra,  that  I  cannot  but  conclude  they  Avill 


1656.]  Robert  Neivton.  115 

defeat  tlicir  own  design.  There  is  also  a  great  deal  of  what  wc  call  *  radical- 
ism '  connected  with  abolition  movements.  I  have  spoken  freely  in  the  con- 
fcren'-c  on  the  subject;  and  I  hope  that  what  I  have  said  may  have  some 
influence  on  what  is  ^ere  termed  the  'action'  of  the  conference." — 
P.  211. 

At  the  time  Mr.  Ncvton  was  hero  there  -was  no  little  excitement 
in  the  Church  on  the  subject  of  abolition.  It  -was  thouj^ht  also  that 
there  was  mucli  ''radicalism"  connected  with' the  abolition  move- 
ment;  in  consequence  of  which  stron^i^  fears  were  entertained  lest  it 
should  divide  the  Cliurch.  In  pursuing  the  course  which  he  adopted, 
therefore,  on  this  subject,  he  no  doubt  acted  in  acconlancc  with  his  own 
judf^ment  under  the  advice  of  friends.  But  time  has  dissipated  those 
fears,  and  shown  that,  in  the  odious  sense  of  the  term,  there  was 
little  radicalism  among  those  who  deplored  the  ''great  evil  of 
slavery  "  and  laboured  to  "extirpate  it."  The  "radicals"  proved  to  be 
the  apologists  and  abettors  of  slaver}-.  So  that,  after  the  General 
Conference  of  1S44,  the  great  secession  took  place,  with  Bishop 
Soule  at  its  head;  since  which  the  branches  of  the  tall  pine  of  Maine 
have  been  draped  in  the  funeral  moss  of  the  South. 

We  are  aware  that  many  of  our  English  brethren  take  different 
views  of  the  subject  of  temperance  from  those  prevalent  among  us. 
Mr.  Newton  "  concluded  "  that  our  temperance  men  were  so  "  violent 
and  ultra"  that  they  Avould  defeat  their  own  design.  He  saw,  however, 
long  before  his  death,  it  is  presumed,  that  that  conclusion  was  not  well- 
founded.  The  enactment  of  prohibitory  laws  in  so  many  of  the  states 
is  a  cheering  sign  and  a  glorious  revvnrd  for  those  who  have  laboured 
long  and  earnestly  in  this  great  and  important  reform.  The  time 
has  come  when  there  are  few,  if  any,  congregations  in  all  our 
extended  work  whose  pastors  could  use  beer  or  wine — not  to  men- 
tion stronger  drinks — as  a  beverage,  and  maintain  their  standing  as 
evangelical  ministers  for  a  single  day.  We  hope  the  time  will  soon 
come  when  it  shall  be  so  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Much  has  been  said,  in  the  older  portions  of  the  work  especially, 
about  our  districts  and  the  presiding  eldership.  The  inquiry  is 
often  raised,  "  Can  we  not  adopt  the  English  plan?"  Mr.  Newton's 
opinion  on  this  subject,  as  expressed  to  the  General  Conference 
and  recorded  in  his  Life,  is  worthy  of  consideration.  We  embrace 
also  his  remarks  concerning  the  episcopacy.     lie  says  : — 

"  I  have  heard  incidental  allusions  to  '  moderate  episcopacy ;'  bnt  if  yours  bo 
not  a  mfideratc  episcopacy,  I  do  not  l:r.ov/  what  mnkos  one.  If  tlicre  be  a 
prayer  for  niod<- rate  episcopacy,  it  is  idrcady  granted.  And  as  to  your  pvesid-. 
ing 'eldership,  I  have  been  asked  whether  it  could  not  be  aUered  for  the  belter; 
and  whether  our  .system  of  district  chairmen  niijiht  not  l)e  more  eligible  In 
dense  and  populous  districts,  perhaps,  it  miglit  be  so ;  but  as  a  general  plan  in 


1 16  Robert  Newton.  [January, 

your  countrj'  it  would  be  utterly  impracticable.     Your  system  has  done  -nvcII; 
and  again  1  say,  '  Let  well  alone.'  " — V.  213. 

Mr.  Newton's  opinion  respecting  the  great  value  of  class-meet- 
ings may  be  inferred  from  his  remarks  upon  the  results  of  ]Mr. 
Whiteiield's  labours  in  America.     1\q  observes  : — 

"It  is  remarkable  that  not  an  orphan-housi'.  a  church, or  a  society,  founded 
by  Whitefield,  remains  ;  while  the  '\Vc^leya^s  number  between  seven  and  eijiht 
hundred  thousand  members,  and  upward  ot"  tliree  thousand  mi^I:^ters.  But 
Whitejield  did  n9t  imttitiite  class-mcetinfjs,  and  Wedcy  did." — P.  197. 

We  noiv  pass  to  a  brief  notice  of  the  history  and  labours  of  Mr. 
Nowton. 

The  parents  of  Mr.  x^cwton  were  of  "  yeoman  descent,  tall, 
comely,  and  well-favoured  in  their  personal  appearance."  They 
possessed  a  sound  and  vigorous  understanding,  and  surpassed  in 
intelligence  the  greater  part  of  their  contemporaries  in  the  sanie 
walks  of  life.  They  occupied  a  farm  in  Ro.xby — a  hamlet  on  the 
coast,  between  AVhitby  and  Cuisborough — in  the  i^orth  Riding  of 
Yorkshire.  Here  they  spent  their  time  in  honest  industry,  supply-. 
ing  their  wants  from  the  soil  which  they  cultivated  and  the  flocks 
which  they  reared  and  tended.  Mr.  Jackson  gives  us  a  pretty 
picture  of  yeoman  life  in  England.  We  see  the  hamlet  resting  on 
the  coast;  the  waters  of  the  2sorth  Sea  spreading  out  to  the  east, 
and  traversed  by  water-craft  of  various  descriptions,  plying  between 
the  Tyne,  the  Ilumbcr,  and  the  Thames.  Removed  from  the 
^gaieties  of  the  capital,  the  din  of  IS'owcastle,  the  commerce  of 
Liverpool,  and  the  smoke  of  Birmingham  and  Manchester,  we  can 
almost  feel  the  quiet  that  gathers  around  Roxby  and  its  adjacent 
districts,  as  Francis  Newton,  happy  in  the  esteem  of  his  neighbours, 
goes  forth  to  till  the  soil  and  tend  his  flocks  and  herds.  Who  that 
Las  ever  seen  rural  life  in  its  simplicity ;  that  has  heard  the  low- 
ing of  cattle  and  the  bleating  of  flocks :  that  has  watched  the  gam- 
"bols  of  lambs  ;  that  has  breathed  the  frngrant  air  of  the  hay-held 
as  the  newly-mown  crop  of  grass  is  gathering  into  the  stack  or 
barn ;  that  has  followed  the  meandering^  of  the  little  rill,  fertilizing 
the  vale  through  which  it  runs ;  that  has  listened  to  the  music  of 
uncaged  birds;  that  has  drunk  in  the  inspiration  of  the  early  morn- 
ing, all  instinct  and  radiant  with  new  life  and  beauty  ;  that  has  com- 
muned at  eventide,  in  the  fleld,  with  Nature  and  with  Nature's  God, 
has  not  been  charmed  with  pastoral  life?  * 

In  their  pleasant  home  the  parents  of  Robert  Newton  said  their 
prayers  and  attended  to  many  religious  duties ;  still  they  lived 
without  the  consciousness  of  sin  forgiven,  and  without  a  2;ood  Chris- 


lS5(j.]  Robert  Ncxcion.  117 

tian  Lope  of  heaven.  At  this  time  lloxby  was  visited  by  Rev. 
James  Rogers,  husband  of  Hester  Ann  Roarers,  ^Yhose  biography 
has  been  so  extensively  read  in  this  countr}^  and  v.-hich  has  been 
so  useful  to  many  Christians.  Mr.  Rogers  offered  up  prayer 
in  Mr.  iS'cwtou's  habitation.  A  little  Avhilc  after  the  Rev.  John 
King  preached  in  his  barn.  Soon  he  read  the  "Journal  of  John 
IS'elson."  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newton  both  began  to  feel  the  need  of 
pometliing  to  make  theni  happy  beyond  what  they  possessed.  They 
betook  themselves  to  prayer — they  wept,  they  made  supplication  to 
God.  They  believed,  and  they  received  the  salvation  of  the  Gospel. 
The}^  entered  upon  a  new  life.  Their  house  became  a  regular 
appointment  on  the  Vv  hitby  Circuit.  There  henceforth,  once  a  fort- 
night, on  a  week-day  evening,  the  word  of  God  was  preached. 
Many  of  the  people  heard  and  believed.  A  class  was  formed,  and 
Mr.  iSewton  became  the  devoted  and  efScient  leader.  It  was  from 
such  parentage,  placed  in  such  circumstances,  that  Robert  Newton 
sprung. 

Robert  Newton  was  born  September  Sth,  17S0,  and  was  dedicated 
to  God  in  baptism  on  the  eleventh  of  the  same  month.  He  pos- 
sessed a  fine  disposition  and  was  a  fearless,  energetic  boy.  We 
find  him  engaged  in  the  ordinary  labour  of  a  farmer  for  a  number 
of  years;  at  the  same  time,  availing  himself  of  all  the  educational 
advantages  within  his  reach,  he  made  commendable  proiiclency  in 
his  studies.  He  next  engaged  with  a  Mr.  Sigworth  of  Stokeby,  who 
carried  on  the  business  of  a  "  draper,  grocer,  and  druggist."  Here 
his  health  f\iiled  him  and  his  spirits  began  to  droop.  Returning 
to  his  father's  house,  he  resumed  his  labour  on  the  fcrm— ^an  "em- 
ployment more  congenial  with  his  constitution  and  the  habits  which 
he  had  formed." 

But  here,  amid  the  scenes  of  his  childhood  and  the  pleasures  of 
home,  his  heart  was  not  at  rest.  He  knew  not  God.  He  was 
inclined  to  entertain  the  infidel  notions  of  Paine,  not  from  convic- 
tion of  their  soundness,  it  may  well  be  presumed,  but  from  the  fond- 
ness of  novelty,  not  uncommon  in  the  fickleness  and  restlessness  of 
the  period  of  life  to  which  he  had  now  arrived.  At  the  same  time 
the  stirring  accounts  of  military  valour  which  the  papers  contained, 
imd  the  menacing  of  England  by  France,  fired  his  imagination. 
He  enrolled  himself  with  a  company  of  volunteers  and  learned  the 
sword  exercise.  Then  his  heart  was  set  upon  entering  the  regular 
sorvi(;o.  But  the  "authority  of  the  father  over  him  was  complete: 
and  by  that  authority  the  wayward  yciuth  was  effectually  restrained 
from  his  purpose." 

The  time  had  now  come  when  Robert,  yielding  to  religious  con- 


118  Robert  N CIO  ton.  [Januar}*, 

victions,  embraced  the  faith  of  the  Gospel.  The  years  1797  and 
1798  were  seasons  of  gracious  revivals  of  religion  on  the  \Vhitby 
Circuit.  Sinners  -svere  converted,  Avanderers  from  God  -were 
reclaimed,  and  large  accessions  were  made  to  the  Wesleyan 
societies.  "  During  this  season  of  visitation,"  says  his  biographer, 
"  Robert  Newton  was  made  a  partaker  of  the  salvation  from  sin  which 
the  Gospel  reveals,  and  fully  entered  upon  the  enjoyments,  the  duties, 
and  the  conflicts  of  the  Clmstian  life."  (P.  VI.) 

It  is  proper  to  observe  here  that  Robert  Is'cwton's  conversion 
was  marked.  The  former  preaching  of  }-Ir.  Kershaw,  and  the  kind 
religious  conversation  of  that  minister  with  him,  in  his  monthly  visit, 
as  a  herald  of  the  cross,  to  his  fithcr's  house,  had  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  his  mind.  Now  the  Holy  Spirit  called  up  those 
impressions  and  reproduced  conviction.  His  sorrow  was  deep,  and 
continued  for  nine  weeks.  Pra^'ers  were  offered  up  for  him.  The 
pious  people  of  the  neighbourhood  felt  great  interest  in  his  case; 
yet  he  did  not  find  peace  of  mind.  The  blessing,  however,  was  at 
hand.  He  entered  into  his  room  ;  his  sister  Ann,  a  penitent  and  a 
seeker,  like  himself,  went  witii  him  into  this  place  of  earnest  pleading 
vith  God.  There  they  "  unitedly  wrestled  with  the  Lord  in  prayer;" 
there  they  obtained  power  from  on  high ;  and  there,  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  February,  179S,  peace  and  joy  sprung  up  in  their  hearts. 

There  has  been  much  controversy  in  the  Church  respecting  min- 
isterial qualifications.  It  is  scarcely  worth  the  wliile  to  waste  breath 
and  strength  on  this  subject;  the  history  of  the  Church  seems 
clearly  to  settle  the  question.  In  olden  time  God  called  his 
projihets.from  the  different  v^-alks  and  pui'suits  of  life.  He  did  the 
same  in  the  early  apostolic  Church.  Mr.  Wesley  was  led  providen- 
tially to  call  to  his  aid  helpers  in  the  same  circumstances  and  condi- 
tion of  life.  He  selected  men  fresh  from  the  people,  full  of  fiith, 
and  zealous  for  God,  to  be  assistants  in  the  great  work  which  he 
Avas  raised  up  to  accomplish ;  those  thus  selected,  by  their  gifts, 
grace,  and  usefulness,  gave  full  proof  that  they  were  called  of 
God. 

Robert  Newton,  soon  after  his  conversion,  begins  to  pray  in  pub- 
lic, and  e.xhort  his  neighbours  to  seek  God.  In  a  little  while  he  is 
on  the  "Plan,"  as  a  local  preacher,  and  begins  his  long  and  glorious 
ministerial  career  by  announcing  as  his  first  te.\t,  "  We  preach 
Christ  crucified ;"  "  a  subject,"  says  Mr.  Jackson,  "  to  which  he 
adhered  with  unsvrerving  fulelity  to  the  end  of  his  ministerial  life." 

Just  here  we  must  make  an  extract  from  Mr.  Toase.  He  calls  up 
earlier  days  and  writes  con  uniorc.  Speaking  of  Mr.  Newton,  he 
says : — 


1856.]  Robert  Newton.  119 

"  At  the  very  bcjrinnin^X  ^^c  "^^'as  popular  and  useful.  Though  younsr,  his 
appearance  was  manly,  and  tlicrc  was  a  noble  bearing  in  all  that  ho  said  and 
did.  It  was  evident,  even  at  that  lime,  that  he  was  intended  lo  fill  no  ordi- 
nary place  among  the  ambassadors  of  Clni.-t.  I  was  younger  lluin  he,  and 
always  looked  up  to  him  with  admiration,  and  often  ibllowed  hint  to  places 
where  he  exercised  his  early  ministry.  lie  had  not  been  lonir  on  the  preach- 
er's jilan.  before  lie  v.as  called  to  occupy  the  principal  i)ulpii3  of  the  circuit; 
and  in  all  cases  his  labours  were  highly  accei)tablo.  O,  those  were  happy 
davs  !  We  were  simple-minded  and  sincere.  We  loved  as  brethren,  and  were 
of  one  heart  and  soul,  and  ti;ought  no  saci-ifice  too  great  for  the  advancement 
of  the  cause  in  v/liich  we  had  embarked." 

In  the  July  followin,;;  Lis  conversion  he  was  recommended  to  the 
conference  as  a  travelling  preacher.  He  -was  accepted  and  appoint- 
ed to  the  Pocklington  Circuit.  Here  he  laboured  with  zeal  and  great 
acceptance.  His  circuit  contained  many  agricultural  villages  and 
hamlets,  where  the  service  uas  generally  conducted  in  private 
houses,  barns,  and  carpenter-shops.  While  Mr.  Kewton  was  labour- 
ing on  this  circuit  he  was  not  v/ithout  those  temptations  which  most 
men  have  in  similar  circumstances  encountered.  "  Feelings  of  dis- 
couragement rose  in  his  mind;  and  at  times  he  entertained  the  pur- 
pose of  leaving  his  circuit,  and  of  returning  to  his  former  occupa- 
tion at  Ko.xby."  But  John  Hart,  a  pious  local  preacher,  to  whom 
he  revealed  his  feelings,  encouraged  him  in  his^York.  and  urged  him 
to  persevere,  adding,  in  conclusion,  "You  dare  not''  abandon  your 
'vvork.     That  was  a  word  fitly  spoken  and  in  season. 

In  1800  Mr.  ISewton  was  appointed  to  the  Hov.dcn  Circuit. 
While  on  this  circuit  he  united  Avith  Miss  Nodes  in  marriage.  His 
entire  domestic  life,  running  on  for  more  than  half  a  century,  was 
most  happy. 

It  is  not  our  design  to  follow  Mr.  Newton  in  his  itinerancy  more 
than  to  say  that  his  circuits  were  Pocklington,  Howdcn,  Glasgow, 
Kotherham,  Sheffield,  Huddersfield,  Ilolmfirth,  London,  Wakefield, 
Liverpool,  Manchester,  Leeds,  Stockport,  and  Salford.  It  will  be  per- 
ceived that  though  he  travelled  more  than  fihy  years  his  moves,  for  the 
most  part,  were  not  long,  and  that  he  occupied  repeatedly  the  same 
field  of  labour — especially  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  circuits. 
He  spent  but  one  year  in  Glasgow  and  but  two  in  London.  Mr. 
Jackson  says : — 

_"  From  the  year  1817,  when  ho  left  Wakefield,  to  the  end  of  his  itinerant 
ministry,  ^Ir. Newton's  nj/icial  labours,  to  which  he  was  ap[)ointed  by  the  con- 
fcretice,  were  confined  to  tbv.er  circuits  tlian  were  tho.sc  of  any  of  hi-;  contein- 
porai-ies;  but  his  labours  which  lie  ro;u;i,'a;v'/v  undertcok,  extended  through 
the  United  Kingdom  of  (ircat  Lritain  and  Ireland.  AccordiuL'  to  the  minutes 
of  the  conference,  Liverpool  and  Manchester  divided  between  them  twenty 
years  of  his  public  liTe  ;  Salford  occupied  six,  Stockport  three,  and  Leeds  si::; 
»o  that  he  appears  to  have  spent  thirty-fivc  years  in  five  localities." — P.  94. 


120  Robert  Newton.  [January, 

.  This  \Yill  seem  strange  to  some  of  our  warmest  advocates  for  the 
most  extensive  itinerancy.  Mr.  JS'cwton,  the  most  popular  as  a 
pulpit  orator  and  platform  speaker  of  all  the  Wesleyan  ministers,  is 
stationed  twenty  years  in  Liverpool  and  Manchester. 

Mr.  ISewton's  voluntary  labours  are  perhaps  without  a  parallel  in 
ancient  or  modern  times.  We  may  have  some  conception  of  them 
when  we  consider  that  from  1  SIT  to  the  close  of  his  life,  he  was  con- 
stantly travelling  and  preaching.  He  had  only  Saturday— and  that 
but  a  part  of  the  time — as  a  day  of  rest  And  then,  such  rest  as 
he  had  on  that  day  I  From  one  to  two  dozen  letters  to  answer, 
preparation  for  the  pulpit  on  the  morrow,  and  a  social  religious  meet- 
ing to  attend  in  the  evening !  While  he  was  thus  travelling  all  the 
week,  attending  missionary  meetings,  opening  chapels,  and  preaching 
in  the  villages  and  cities,  ho  always  kept  the  Sabbaths  for  his  own 
charge.  And  as  a  young  man,  for  a  number  of  years,  was  sta- 
tioned wth  him,  to  attend  to  the  evening  appointments,  and  other 
occasional  services,  the  work  on  his  own  circuits  was  not  uncared 
for  or  neglected. 

In  1822  Mr.  Newton  made  his  first  visit  to  the  Irish  Conference. 
He  became  after  this  a  frequent  visiter  to  Ireland,  and  laboured 
there  successfully  in  the  good  work  of  his  divine  Lord  and  Master. 
'=  He  attended,"  says  his  biographer,  "  at  least  twenty-three  Irish 
conferences.  Here  some  of  his  tenderest  friendships  were  formed  ; 
and  here  many  persons  were,  through  his  faithful  ministry,  turned 
to  righteousness,  and  made  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with 
Christ."^P.  101. 

The  forte  of  ]\[r.  ]S^ev,-tou  was  preaching.  lie  was  a  "  salvation 
preacher."  We  may  learn  from  this  why,  with  his  great  popularity, 
he  was  stationed  in  London  but  once,  and  remained  there  but  two 
years.     Mr.  Jackson  says  : — 

"  London  was  loss  acceptable  to  liim  as  a  station  tli.in  the  other  places  where 
he  laboured.  Bcinp:  the  centre  of  connc.xional  o[icrations.  numerous  commit- 
tees were  held  ihoro.  ivhicli  he  was  expected  to  attend.  Tlicsc  occupied  much 
time,  and  diverted  his  attention  iVom' preaching,  and  from  the  work  of  pulpit 
preparation,  in  which,  above  all  thinirs,  his  soul  delighted.  The  tact  is,  he 
never  had  that  aptitude  for  tlio  dotails  of  businc.-s  in  whi'di  .some  men  excel. 
He  felt  tliat  he  was  made  for  action  rather  than  for  di'liberation,  and  that  the 
duties  of  the  pulpit  were  his  esj)ecial  forte  and  calling.  lie  did  attend  the 
meetings  of  committees,  as  in  duty  bound,  having  in  tlicm  a  trust  to  execute  ; 
but  he  was  always  glad  to  escape  iVom  them  to  cmj)loymcnt  which  was  more 
congenial  to  his  taste." — Pp.  70.  7  7. 

Mr.  ]S"owton,  genuinely  converted,  as  we  have  scon,  entered  upon 
the  work  of  the  ministry  at  the  ago  of  eighteen.  For  fifcy-threo 
years  he  continued  in  that  work,  preaching  the  Gospel  in  England, 
Ireland,  Scotland,   and  the  United  States.     From  the  commence- 


1656.]  Robert  Neioion.  121 

mont  of  his  public  career  to  its  close  he  was  a  man  of  one  work.  At 
hoiiie  and  abroad  he  strove  to  save  men.  In  the  faithful  discharge 
of  liis  duties  he  had  to  pay  the  price  which  such  efforts  too  frequent- 
ly cost:  he  was  at  times  flilsely  judged,  and  no  little  reproach  was 
heaped  upon  him.  But  he  could  say,  having  such  assurance  as  he 
had  of  the  divine  approbation  and  the  divine  presence,  '•  ISonc  of 
those  things  move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  myself,  so 
that  1  might  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  I 
have  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  testify  the  gospel  of  the  grace 
of  God." 

In  1852,  and  when  Mr.  Newton  was  past  seventy  years  of  age, 
he  was  compelled  to  take  a  supernumerary  relation  to  the  conference. 
It  is  delightful  to  see  amid  what  respect  and  kind  regard  from  his 
brethren,  he  retires  from  the  labours  and  appointments  of  an  "  effec- 
tive preacher."  But  the  days  of  infirmity,  long  delayed,  liad  come. 
lie  could  no  longer  go  forth  to  service  as  aforetime.  The  blanks  in 
his  "  interleaved  almanac  "  were  becoming  more  and  more  common. 
lie  was  learning,  as  he  wrote  his  friends,  to  be  an  old  man. 

The  folloAving  extract  is  from  his  last  letter,  and  was  addressed  to 
his  faithful  friend,  Mr.  Turner,  of  Derby  : — 

"  And  now  what  can  I  say  to  Derby,  which  I  am  loth  to  give  up  after  all  these 
years?  T  believe  all  I  can  say  i<,  that  if  in  July  I  am  as  well  as  I  am  to-day, 
i  may  offer  you  one  sermon  on  the  Sabbath,  and  if  it  be  thought  well,  one  on 
the  Monday  evening." 

Good  man  I  even  Derby  with  all  its  charms  and  endearing  friend- 
ships could  no  longer  hold  him  in  life.  His  July  was  spent  in 
heaven.  On  the  30th  of  April,  and  ten  days  after  writing  this 
letter,  he  fell  asleep  in  Christ,  saying,  -'Jesus  is  the  resurrection 
and  the  life  .'" 

Fletcher,  Benson,  and  Coke  had  their  distinct  places  in  the  AVes- 
leyan  Connexion;  so  had  Adam  Clarke  and  Richard  Watson. 
Nev.-ton  had  his.  lie  was  not  great  as  Clarke  and  AVatson 
were,  but  he  was  great  as  Robert  Newton,  the  eloquent  and 
indcfiitigable  minister  of  Christ.  He  came  from  the  people:  he 
sympathized  with  the  people;  he  lived  among  the  people;  he 
laboured  for  the  people  ;  he  died  lamented  by  the  people  ;  and  with 
the  "people"  saved  from  sin  and  earth,  he  dwells  in  heaven. 
Of  no  man  can  it  be  more   truthfully  said,  "  in   labolt.S   MORE 

ABUNDANT."  i> 

FouETH  Series,  Vol.  VIK—S 


122  Scliaff  071  America.  [January, 


Art.  VI.— SCHAFF  ON  iOIERICA. 

The  Political,  Social,  and  Ecclesiastico-religioics  Condition  of  the  United  States  of 
North  America,  with  Special  Reference  to  the  Gcrrnans.  By  Philip  Schaff,  D.P., 
Professor  of  Theology  at  Mercersburg,  Pennsylvania.  Berlin  :  Wiegaudt  and 
Gricbcn.  1854. 

Dr.  Schaff,  as  some  of  the  readers  of  the  Quarter!}'  know,  -^vas 
called  from  Switzerland,  his  native  country,  about  ten  years  ago,  to 
occupy  his  present  position  in  the  Theological  Seminary  of  the 
German  Reformed  Church  at  Mercersburg,  where,  in  connexion 
with  Dr.  jSevin,  he  has  laboured  with  great  zeal,  and  as  far,  it  is 
presumed,  as  his  own  communion  is  concerned,  with  consid- 
erable success  in  building  up  the  system  of  doctrine  known  in  cer- 
tain quarters  as  "the  Mercersburg  theology."  In  several  works, 
published  both  in  German  and  English,  he  has  shown  himself  to  be 
a  man  of  elegant  culture  and  profound  theological  learning.  He 
has  contributed  several  papers  to  this  Review. 

He  lately  visited  his  native  land,  and,  during  a  short  sojourn  in 
Berlin,  delivered  several  lectures  on  America,  which  the  favour- 
able opinion  of  certain  friends  induced  him  to  publish,  though  in 
a  form  somewhat  altered  and  considerably  extended.  The  result  is 
a  book  of  three  hundred  pages,  whose  title  forms  the  heading  of  this 
article.  It  is  divided  into  three  parts.  First :  The  United  States 
of  ^^orth  America — their  Importance,  Politics.  National  Character, 
Culture,  Literature,  and  Religion.  Second  :  The  Ecclosiastico-reli- 
gious  Condition  of  America.  Third:  The  German  Churches  in 
America. 

Under  the  first  head  Dr.  Schaff  gives  a  graphic  account  of  the 
wonderful  growth  of  his  adopted  country ;  of  her  thirty-one  organ- 
ized states,  with  additional  territory  sufficient  to  make  a  dozen  more, 
each  as  large  as  a  German  kingdom, — the  whole,  though  loss  than 
a  hundred  years  old,  containing  three  millions  of' square  miles  and 
more  than  twenty-five  millions  of  people.  He  speaks  of  the  foreign 
immigration  as  of  such  magnitude  as  to  entitle  it  to  be  called  a 
peaceful,  bloodless  migration  of  the  nations ;  and  declares  that  the 
Americans  bid  them  all  welcome, — both  good  and  bad,  the  good 
rather,  but  the  bad  too,  in  the  hope,  that  in  a  new  world  they  will 
become  new  men.  thus  disproving  the  truth  of  the  old  verse — 

Cocluni,  non  animum  mutant,  trans  mare  qui  currunt. 

With  the  author  we  say.  Let  the  good  come,  but  we  hope  to  be  par- 
doned   by  our  countrymen   generally  if  we   cannot  welcome  or 


1856.]  Schajf  on  America.  123 

invite  such  men  as  the  foreign  burglars  and  murderers  who  make 
our  homes  and  lives  insecure;  who  fill  our  prisons  and  supply 
nearly  the  whole  of  our  material  for  the  gallows ;  who  would  over- 
turn our  government  and  establish  red  republicanism ;  who 
would  abrogate  marriage  and  institute  licentiousness;  who  would 
blot  out  the  Sabbath,  and  indeed  destroy  Christianity,  of  which  it  is 
an  essential  part.  The  patriotic  piety  which  would  prompt  us  to 
pray  for  the  prosperity  of  our  country  and  the  permanence  of  our 
institutions  leads  us  to  regard  such  men  as  in  the  highest  degree 
undesirable,  and  heartily  to  wish  them  back  in  their  own  lands, 
with  all  of  their  sort  ever  to  remain. 

In  treating  of  the  political  condition  of  the  country,  he  shows  that 
while  all  the  governments  of  Europe  rest,  more  or  less,  upon  the 
institutions  of  the  middle  age,  here  the  last  remnants  of  that  period, 
with  the  exception  of  slavery  in  the  southern  states,  fall  entirely 
away.  We  have  no  king,  no  nobility,  no  aristocracy,  except  the 
unavoidable  threefold  aristocracy  of  character,  of  talents,  and  of 
money ;  no  standing  army  and  no  state  Church ;  but  instead  of  these, 
perfect  civil  and  religious  liberty,  as  well  as  unrestricted  freedom 
of  speech  and  of  the  press,  and  access  to  the  highest  offices,  even 
for  the  poorest  citizens,  under  the  reasonable  and  natural  conditions 
of  competency  and  worthiness;  and  that  with  all  this  apparent  ex- 
cess of  liberty  there  is  joined  universal  regard  for  right  and  law, 
deep  reverence  for  Christianity,  well-ordered  government,  and  per- 
fect security  of  person  and  property.  Our  author,  however,  is  very 
solicitous,  as  indeed  he  should  be.  to  make  a  strong  distinction  be- 
tween the  radical  democracy  of  Europe  and  the  cherished  republican 
freedom  of  his  adopted  country.     On  this  point  he  remarks, — 

"  Although  a  Swiss  by  birth  and  an  American  by  adoption,  I  have  lived  too 
long  in  monarchies  to  deny  in  tlie,  least  their  historical  necessity  and  high  ex- 
cellence. I  am  utterly  destitute  of  sympathy  witli  the  shallow  fanatical  re- 
publicanism of  so  many  Amciicans,  who  see  no  salvation  for  Europe  except 
m  tlic  uni\crsal  spread  of  reyniblicau  institutinus.  and  hence  are  prepared  to 
hail  with  joy  the  vilest  revolutions,  born  of  the  spirit  of  darkness.  This  comes, 
however,  of  not  iniderstanding  the  matter ;  for  if  they  knew  better  they  would 
decide  dlirerently.  But  unhistorical,  foolish,  even  ridiculous  as  it  would  be 
to  plant  American  institutions  at  once  and  without  modification  on  European 
soil,  yet  on  the  other  side,  for  the  United  States  I  can  think  of  but  one  form 
of  goverumcut  as  reasonable  and  appropriate,  and  that  is  tlie  republic.  All 
the  traditions  and  sympathies  are  there  in  its  favour.  With  it  are  connected 
the  whole  previous  history  and  present  vocation  of  the  country ;  under  it  she 
has  become  great  and  strong;  under  it  she  feels  happy  and  satisfied.  We 
cannot  imagine  from  what  quarter  a  king  tor  America  could  come."  P.  1 9. 

Now,  while  wc  most  cordially  agree  with  our  author  in  his  hearty 
denunciation  of  red  republicanism  in  other  parts  of  his  book,  and  are 


124  Schaff  on  Arneinca.  [January, 

satisJSed  that  the  men  who  have  recently  undertaken  to  democratize 
Europe  were  wholly  unsuited  to  the  task,  mainly  because  they  rejected 
Christianity,  yet  we  must  hesitate  to  admit  the  historical  necessity  of 
monarchy,  except  so  far  as  monarchy  has  kept  the  masses  degraded, 
and  by  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  Church  has  added  to  the  number  of 
their  masters  and  oppressors,  thus  wedding,  in  the  minds  of  the  peo- 
ple, Christianity  with  tyranny,  and  making  the  noble  sentiments  of 
liberty  the  enemy  of  Christ,  who  alone  can  make  men  truly  free. 
Our  author  tells  us  that  in  this  country  the  sympathies,  the  traditions, 
the  history,  were  all  in  favour  of  republicanism,  so  much  so  that  he 
can  conceive  of  no  other  form  of  government  for  her.  That  is,  if  we 
understand  him,  republicanism  is  a  historical  necessity  for  America! 
She  must  continue  a  republic  because  she  has  a  republican  history, 
just  as  Europe  must  remain  monarchical  because  her  history  is 
monarchical.  But  how  would  this  argument  have  answered  when 
our  fathers  were  just  emerging  from  tlie  struggle  of  the  revolution 
and  were  casting  about  for  a  suitable  form  of  government?  The 
stream  of  history  then  set  in  the  opposite  direction.  And  although 
our  fathers  were  already  qualified  for  self-government  by  intelli- 
gence and  virtue,  yet  there  was  no  necessity  for  the  republic  except 
in  the  deep  sympathies  of  the  people. 

While  l)r.  !f  chaff,  in  different  parts  of  his  book,  as  already  inti- 
mated, speaks  in  terms  of  just  severity  of  many  of  his  own  country- 
men as  radical  and  revolutionary,  and  of  the  tendency  of  their 
opinions  aiid  acts  as  anarchical  and  highly  immoral,  we  cannot  but 
think  he  has  included  under  his  generally  proper  and  discriminating 
condemnation  one  name  which  ought  to  have  been  spared,  even  in 
the  presence  of  a  Berlin  audience.  We  mean  that  of  Louis  Kossuth. 
After  speaking  of  the  manner  in  which  certain  would-be  European 
republican  leaders,  who  have  come  to  America  within  a  few  years 
past,  have  been  compelled  to  settle  down  quietly  into  simple  citizens, 
our  author  proceeds  thus  : — 

"  The  only  revolutionary  celebrity  who  has  really  created  a  great  stir  is 
Kossuth,  who,  during  the  half  year  of  his  stay  In  America  as  the  nation's 
guest  ma  le  nnny  hundroils  of  English  speeches'  as  well  as  a  few  in  German, 
and  by  the  {.ov.er  of  his  elcKjuence,  iu  the  highest  degree  remarkable,  even  in 
a  foreign  language,  and  by  his  strange  gift  for  agitation,  drew  upon  himself 
the  wonder  of  thousands.  ]iut  tlu-  history  of  his  meteoric,  rhetorical  cam- 
paign through  states  of  the  I  iiion  is  expressed  in  a  few  words:  he  went  up 
like  a  rocket  and  came  down  like  a  stick." — P.  ItJ. 

We  readily  admit  the  failure  of  Kossuth,  but  in  what  sense 
did  he  fail  ?  He  certainly  did  not  fail  to  excite  us  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  admiration,  wonder,  and  reverence  for  his  own  character. 


1856.]  Schaff  on  America.  125 

or  to  awaken  in  our  hearts  the  deepest  sympathy  for  his  oppressed 
and  suffering  country.  The  very  concomitants  of  his  failure  would 
have  been  a  sufficient  immortality  for  most  men.  But  he  failed  to 
secure  the  cooperation  of  the  groat  Western  empire  in  the  cause  of 
Hungarian  liberty;  he  failed  to  convince  us  that  it  was  good  policy, 
young  as  our  country  was,  and  remote  from  the  scene  of  strife,  to 
engage  in  a  European  war.  He  failed  in  England,  too,  where  he 
certainly  would  have  succeeded  if  the  rights  of  man  had  been  as 
dear  to  the  government  as  the  balance  of  power  in  Europe.  But  he 
failed  in  an  enterprise  of  exalted  and  glorious  patriotism  similar  to 
that  in  which  Frauklin  succeeded  at  the  court  of  France,  and  which 
brought  to  our  shores  Lafayette,  the  citizen  of  two  hemispheres, 
with  French  muskets,  French  soldiers,  and  French  gold.  If  the 
mission  of  the  American  commissioners  was  more  glorious  than 
that  of  the  Hungarian  governor,  it  was  only  because  the  world 
measures  glory  by  no  standard  but  that  of  success.  The  honour 
shown  to  Kossuth  at  the  time  of  his  visit,  and  which  is  still  felt  for 
him  by  Americans  who  are  not  blinded  by  partisanship,  was  a  spon- 
taneous homage  to  his  genius,  the  utterance  of  a  glowing  sympathy 
with  his  noble  and  gallant  soul,  and  the  exhibition  of  a  melting, 
though  unfruitful  pity  for  his  crushed  country,  mingled  with  fierce 
indignation  against  a.  perjtu-ed  king  and  his  royal  companions  in 
treachery  and  tyranny.  If  Dr.  Schaff  had  fully  imbibed  the  spirit  of 
Washington  and  the  fathers  of  the  American  Revolution,  he  never 
would  have  abused  Kossuth  before  an  audience  that  hated  him  sim- 
ply because  he  was  a  republican  patriarch. 

Under  the  head  of  national  character  and  social  life  our  author 
represents  xVmerica  as  exhibiting  a  livcl}-  ethnographical  panorama, 
in  which  we  see  passing  before  us  all  the  nationalities  of  the  old 
world.  In  Virginia  we  meet  with  the  English  gentleman  of  the 
time  of  Elizabeth  and  the  later  Stuarts  ;  in  Philadelphia  with  the 
Quaker  of  the  days  of  George  Fox  and  William  Penn :  in  East 
Pennsylvania  with  the  Palatine  and  the  Suabian  of  the  former  part 
of  the  last  century ;  in  New-England  with  the  Puritan  of  the  time  of 
Cromwell  and  Baxter;  on  the  shore  of  the  Hudson  and  in  New- 
Jersey  with  the  genuine  Hollander,  and  in  South  Carolina  with  the 
Huguenots  and  the  French  noblemen  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
He  shows,  however,  that  in  all  this  variegated  manifoldness  a  higher 
unity  prevails,  in  which  we  clearly  distinguish  the  features  of  the 
American  national  character.  This  American  nati<:'nal  character, 
whose  basis  is  English,  greatly  modified  by  the  intermixture  of  other 
nationalities,  and  which,  we  are  told,  needs  still  further  modification 
by  contact  with  the  deep  German  inwardness,  our  author  describes 


126  S  chaff  071  America.  [January, 

as  remarkable  for  energy,  self-government,  activity,  power  of  organ- 
iiiation,  strong  religious  convictions,  and  as  possessing  in  a  high 
degree  the  qualities  necessary  for  world-dominion.  Our  social  life 
is  characterized  as  English  in  its  general  features,  and  in  our  large 
cities  as  rapidly  tending  to  extravagance  and  luxury.  i^ew-York 
is  compai-ed  with  the  French  rather  than  the  English  capital,  and  if 
it  were  not  for  its  many  religious  societies  and  churches,  and  its 
strict  observance  of  Sunday,  it  might  be  called  a  second  Paris.  In 
respect  to  the  intellectual  enjoyments  of  social  life  among  us,  we 
translate  from  our  author  the  following : — 

"  The  deep  and  thorourrhly  cultivated  intercourse  ivitb  which  -we  meet  here 
in  Berlin,  -where,  to  speak  without  lUittery,  one  can  spend  each  evening  iu 
the  most  suggestive  and  profitable  conversation,  with  ladies  as  well  as  with 
gentlemen,  on  science,  and  art,  and  all  the  higher  concerns  of  life,  is,  indeed, 
but  seldom  to  be  met  with  in  America.  Female  training  especiall}-,  is  still,  in 
general,  very  shallow  there,  calculated  rather  for  outward  show  than  for  solid, 
mward  improvement,  and  in  some  circles  where  from  outward  appearances 
•we  might  expect  something  bettor,  we  sometimes  hear  for  whole  evenings 
nothing  but  the  stalest  and  ino-^t  intolerable  evi-ry-day  chat  about  the  M-eather, 
the  fashions,  and  the  latest  weihling  projects.  But  on  the  other  hand  a  certain 
average  culture  is  more  general  there  than  in  Europe,  where  the  culture  is 
confined  to  certain  conditions  of  life.  Republican  institutions,  as  we  may  see 
in  part  in  Switzerland,  have  a  levehng,  equalizing  tendency,  in  regard  to 
social  diversities.  If  the  overtopping  heights  of  culture  are  less  frequent  in 
America,  so  on  tlie  other  hand  we  shall  bo  unabhi  to  find  there  any  such  deep 
depressions  of  ignorance.  TJiere  almost  every  one  strives  to  be  a  gentleman 
or  lady,  that  is,  to  reach  the  English  ideal  of  outward  and  inward,  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  culture,  as  far  as  their  circumstances  and  external  position 
will  allow.  Almost  every  man  has  a  certain,  at  least  outward  routine,  can  make 
a  respectiible  appearance,  reads  newspapers  and  journals,  can  talk  intelligently 
about  the  general  alYairs  of  his  fatherland;  if  needful,  can  make  a  speech,  and 
in  general,  can  make  a  good  practical  use  of  his  knowledge.  The  amount  of 
sound  sense,  of  prudence  and  practical  skill,  and  of  speaking  talent  to  be  found 
there  among  all  classes  is  really  astonishing." — P.  35. 

From  this  flattering  view  of  the  American  mind,  the  author  proceeds 
to  literature  and  science,  and  among  other  topics  alludes  to  our  public 
schools,  mentions  the  Romish  opposition  to  them,  and  rather  sides  with 
it,  and  says  that  certain  prominent  men  in  the  Protestant  confessions 
have  assumed  a  polemical  attitude  toward  them,  and  are  labouring 
to  establish  parochial  schools.  It  is  true  that  many  of  the  Protest- 
ant Churches,  as  also  the  Jews,  have  established  schools  of  their 
own,  but  certainly,  as  far  as  we  have  any  knowledge,  those  who  have 
done  so  from  hostility  to  the  public  schools  must  be  looked  for  among 
the  Puseyites  or  their  Merccrsburg  friends. 

We  have  some  account  also  of  college  education  in  the  country, 
and  what  is  said  is  marked  by  fairness  and  discrimination.  It  is 
very  properly  stated  that  in  the  German  sense  of  the  word  we  have 


1856.]  Schaff  on  America.  127 

no  university, — that  Yale,  Harvard,  and  the  University  of  Virginia 
make  the  nearest  approach  to  it.  The  author  makes  a  slight  mis- 
take, however,  in  attaching  a  theological  department  to  the  Univer- 
sity of  Virginia. 

The  newspaper  press  comes  in  for  a  share  of  attention,  and  the 
Germans  are  astonished  to  hear  of  the  immense  circulation  of  some 
of  our  American  papers,  among  others,  certain  of  the  religious  vreck- 
lics,  one  of  -which,  the  New-York  Observer,  they  are  told,  reaches 
the  enormous  height  of  twenty  thousand.  We  allude  to  this  part  of 
the  book  merely  to  show  that  better  examples  might  have  been 
selected ;  and  we  cannot  imagine  why  they  were  not.  The  Christian 
Advocate,  New- York,  and  the  Western  Christian  Advocate,  Cin- 
cinnati, have  a  circulation  of  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  each. 

We  pass  now  to  notice  the  author's  remarks  upon  the  aspects  of 
religion  and  the  Church.  He  shows,  very  truly,  that,  although  we 
have  no  state  Church,  yet  the  state,  as  such,  does  not  leave  Chris- 
tianity entirely  unrecognised ;  that  in  most,  if  not  in  all  of  the  state 
governments,  there  are  stringent  laws  against  atheism,  blasphemy, 
desecration  of  the  Sabbath,  and  polygamy;  and  that  even  Congress 
acknowledges  Christianity  by  the  election  of  a  chaplain  for  each 
house,  as  well  as  by  providing  similar  officers  for  the  army  and 
navy.  He  falls,  however,  into  a  slight  error  when  he  states  that 
the  congressional  chaplains  have  been  mostly  Protestant  Episcopal 
and  Presbyterian.  The  Methodists  have  had  their  full  share  of 
representatives  in  this  office,  and  of  late  years,  indeed,  more  than 
any  other  denomination.  The  last  Congress  had  a  Methodist  chap- 
lain in  each  house.  We  call  attention  to  this  error,  not  because  it 
is  of  any  great  importance  in  this  country,  but  merely  because  the 
German  hearers  and  readers  of  these  lectures,  whose  ideas 
are  so  much  influenced  by  official  dignity,  might  have  thought 
better  of  us  if  Dr.  Schaflf  had  informed  them  correctly  at  this 
point. 

Dr.  Schaff  seems  to  have  grave  doubts  respecting  what  is  called 
the  voluntary  principle,  namely,  that  condition  of  the  Church  in 
which,  unsupported  by  the  state,  it  is  left  to  depend  upon  the  hearts 
of  its  members ;  for  although  he  makes  many  statements  going  to 
show  how  efficiently  it  works,  yet  he  tells  us  it  has  its  dark  sides; 
and  further,  that  he  would  by  no  means  defend,  as  an  ideal  condi- 
tion, the  separation  of  Church  and  state,  of  which  the  voluntary 
principle  is  a  necessary  fruit,  though  he  considers  it  preferable  to 
territorialisra  and  police  guardianship  of  the  Church,  and  holds  it 
to  be  a  present  necessity. 

But  the  jrreat  source  of  grief  with  our  author  in  regard  to  the 


128  Schaff  on  America  [January, 

ecclesiastical  relations  of  our  country,  is  found  in  sectarianism, 
(Scctcnwescn.)     On  this  point  -svc  translate  as  follows : — 

"  America  is  the  classic  land  of  sects,  which  there,  in  perfect  civil  authoriza- 
tion, can  develoj)  thcniselvcs  without  opposition.  This  is  connected  with  the 
abovc-montiouod  preiKinderatinji  reformed  type  of  the  country.  For  in  the 
reformed  Church,  tiie  Protestant,  hence  also  the  subjective,  individualistic 
principle  is  most  strongly  brought  out.  By  the  term  sectarianism  we  describe 
the  whole  ecclesiastical  condition  of  the  country.  For  the  difterence  between 
Church  and  sect  has  no  existence  there,  at  least,  in  the  sense  of  established 
Church  and  dissenting  societies,  as  they  are  ordinarily  understood  in  England 
and  Germany.  In  America  we  have  no  state  Church,  and  hence  no  dissent- 
ers. There  every  religious  society,  if  it  does  not  outrage  the  common  Chris- 
tian feelintrs  of  the  people  or  the  public  morality,  (as  the  Mormons,  who,  on 
this  account,  were  driven  out  of  Ohio  and  Illinois,)  enjoys  the  same  protection 
and  the  same  rights." — P.  81. 

Further  on,  in  the  same  spirit,  he  adds  — 

"  There  is  the  Romanist,  with  the  tridentinum  and  the  pomp  of  the  mass ; 
the  Episcopal  Anglican,  with  the  thirty-nine  articles  and  the  book  of  common 
prayer ;  the  Scotch  Presbyterian,  v.-ith  the  A\'cstminster  confession  and  his 
presbyteries  and  synods  ;  the  Congregationalist,  or  Puritan  in  the  narrower 
sense,  likewise  Avith  the  "Westminster  contession,  but  with  independent 
Churches  ;  the  Baptist,  with  his  immersion  and  his  rejection  of  iniaat  baptism; 
the  Quaker,  with  his  inward  light :  the  ^Icthodist,  with  his  insisting  upon  repent- 
ance and  conversion,  and  his  artfully-contrived  machinery." 

There,  too,  are  the  Lutheran,  the  German  llcformed,  the  Dutch 
Reformed,  and  others,  all  standing  side  by  side,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  same  liberty,  making  "war  upon  sin,  though  sometimes  also  upon 
each  other,  and  achieving  triumphs  of  no  mean  character  or  trifling 
extent,  since,  as  the  author  tells  us,  multitudes  of  souls  are  gathered 
every  year  by  most  of  these  sects,  and  some  of  them  have  doubled  their 
numbers  -vvithin  the  last  ten  years. 

Our  author  admits  that  this  confusion  of  sects,  as  he  calls  it,  may, 
from  a  certain  point  of  view,  be  regarded  with  favour ;  that  a  person 
who  looks  upon  the  conversion  of  men  as  the  whole  design  of  the 
Church,  may  well  be  favourably  impressed  with  the  religious  condi- 
tion of  Anierica.  He  admits  that  this  glorious  object  is  promoted 
by  the  great  number  of  Churches  and  sects,  which  incite  each  other 
to  increased  activity  and  fruitfulness.  lie  even  asserts  that  there 
are  in  this  country,  in  proportion  to  population,  more  truly-awakened 
souls  and  more  individual  efiort  and  sacrifice  for  religion  than  any 
where  else  in  the  world,  Scotland,  perhaps,  excepted ;  and  he  denies 
that  our  sectarianism  works  to  the  advantage  either  of  infidelity  or 
Romanism.  But  he  tells  us,  notwithstanding  all  this,  that  when  we 
come  to  inspect  this  state  of  things  more  closely,  we  shall  find  that 
it  has  "great  weaknesses  and  dark  aspects;  that  it  sets  in  motion 
every  impure  motive,  encourages  party-spirit  and  party-passion, 


1856.]  Schaff  on  America.  129 

selfishness  and  bigotry,  and  changes  the  peaceful  regions  of  the  king- 
dom of  God  into  a  battle-field,  where  brother  Avars  with  brother,  not 
indeed  with  sword  and  bayonet,  but  with  harshness  and  with  every 
description  of  slander,  and  where  the  interests  of  the  Church  are,  to 
a  great  extent,  subordinated  to  those  of  party.  It  tears  the  beauti- 
ful body  of  Christ  into  pieces,  and  again  and  again  throws  the  fire- 
brand of  jealousy  and  discord  among  his  members." 

What  shall  we  say  in  reply  to  all  this  ?  Shall  we  deny  that  the 
■  Church  of  God  in  America  is  extensively  divided  ?  or  that  the  difler- 
cnt  denominations  sometimes  engage  in  acrimonious  controversy  ? 
By  no  means.  Dr.  Schaff  himself  tells  us,  on  the  ver}'  next  page, 
that  sectarianism  is  not  specifically  an  American  disease ;  that  if 
the  Church  and  the  state  were  separated  in  Prussia,  the  parties  that 
now  make  war  upon  each  other  with  so  much  bitterness  within  the 
state  Church  would  at  once  erect  themselves  into  independent 
Churches  and  sects — and,  if  our  information  is  correct,  the  libera- 
tion of  the  Church  throughout  Germany  would  give  us  a  greater 
number  of  sects  than  v,-e  have  in  this  country.  What  then  does  the 
learned  author  mean?  ^Vhy  does  he  connect  so  closely  the  separa- 
tion of  Church  and  state  and  the  voluntary  principle  with  sectarian- 
ism, which  his  colleague.  Dr.  Kevin,  has  laboured  through  a  long 
and  able  pamphlet  to  identify  with  antichrist,  and  which  he  himself 
seems  to  place  among  mortal  sins  ?  Does  he  moan  to  bring  reproach, 
or,  at  least,  suspicion,  upon  the  relation  of  the  American  Church  to 
the  state,  or  simply  to  insinuate  that  personally  he  is  tired  of 
depending  on  the  precarious  and  limited  support  of  the  voluntary 
principle?  Or  does  he  believe,  as  he  tells  us  (p.  249)  Dr.  Nevin 
docs,  that  the  Church  question  in  the  largest  sense  is  not  only  the 
gi-eatest  theological  problem  of  the  present  day,  but  a  question  of 
personal  salvation.  This  would  be  a  still  more  terrible  view  of  the 
separation  of  Church  and  state,  which  our  author  "would  not  be 
willing  to  defend  as  an  ideal,"  and  which  in  this  country  would  thus 
become  the  cause  of  the  awful  sin  of  freeing  the  conscience  and  of 
establishing  a  number  of  earnest,  liberal,  soul-saving,  Cliristian  com- 
munions. 

But  we  arc  referred  still  further  back  :  "  Protestantism  itself," 
we  are  told,  "  being  Christianity  in  the  form  of  free  subjectivity," 
has,  in  its  principle  and  essence,  a  tendency  to  the  formation  of 
sects,  so  that  it  would  seem  after  all  that  the  Reformation  is  mainly 
to  blame  for  the  divi.iions  of  the  American  Church;  and  that  the 
separation  of  Church  and  state,  and  freedom  of  religion,  arc  only  so 
far  evil  as  they  remove  the  hindrances  to  the  development  of  the 
schismatical  principle  of  Protestantism. 


130  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

Sectarianism  and  Protestantism,  as  they  have  shown  their  gi-eat- 
est  power  and  secured  their  most  striking  development  in  this  coun- 
try, so,  according  to  our  author,  it  is  in  this  country  that  they  are 
both  destined  to  come  to  an  end.  "Here,"  we  arc  told,  "and  not 
in  London  or  Oxford,  Romanism  and  Protestantism  are  to  fight 
their  last  and  most  decisive  battle,"  which  is  to  result  in  favour  of 
neither  of  the  contending  parties,  but  in  favour  of  an  evangelical 
Catholicism,  to  be  reared,  of  course,  on  the  ruins  of  the  present  schis- 
matical  ecclesiastical  establishments  of  rhe  land. 

Dr.  Schaff  has  a  high  regard  for  the  Church  of  Rome,  although 
ho  is  not  entirely  satisfied  with  her  type  of  catholicity.  Hear  him 
on  this  point  in  the  following  passage  : — 

"  What  is  true,  and  pix/d.  and  areat,  and  beautiful  in  the  old,  gray,  but  still 
ever  life-powerful  Catholic  Church,  for  ■which,  in  spite  of  my  I'rotestant  convic- 
tions and  position  I  have  a  powerful,  historical,  theological,  artistic,  and  practi- 
cally-religious respect,  should  and  must  be  preserved ;  but  her  tempo:-al  form, 
the  papacy,  must  pass  away,  and  with  it  the  adoration  of  saints,  the  supersti- 
tious regard  for  relics,  the  spirit  of  persecution,  tyranny  over  tlte  con5.;ience, 
and  everything  vrhich,  with  all  the  believing  Protestant's  longing  for  Church 
unity,  with  all  his  pain  at  the  weaknesses  and  imperfections  in  his  own  camp, 
still,  for  the  sake  of  his  conscience,  on  account  of  the  most  precious  benefits  of 
the  holy  Gospel  and  of  direct  communion  with  Christ,  our  all-satisfying  Lord, 
must  forever  separate  him  from  the  Church  of  Rome. — P.  151. 

It  sounds  strangely  to  American  ears  that  a  theological  professor 
in  one  of  the  Churches  of  the  Keformation  should  have  for  Roman- 
ism "'a powerful,  historical,  theological,  artistic,  and  practically-reli- 
gious respect."  A  historical  respect  for  that  system  which  has 
reddened  all  the  streams  of  history  with  the  blood  of  the  saints, 
and  still  glories  in  it,  telling  us  she  would  do  the  same  thing  here 
and  ■nn}v  if  she  had  the  power  1  A  theological  respect  for  Roman- 
ism, with  her  transubstantiation,  her  worship  of  the  host,  her  indul- 
gences and  purgatoiy,  redolent  of  lucre  ;  her  penance  and  auricular 
confession,  and  her  priestly  power  of  forgiving  sin !  This  looks  to 
us  like  respect  for  idolatry,  blasphemy,  and  liwiniousness.  But 
the  professor  goes  still  further,  and  speaks,  apparently  with  great; 
pleasure,  of  his  "  practically-religious  respect "  for  Rome,  that  is, 
reverence — he  venerates  the  mother  of  harlots  as  a  chaste  and  holy 
matron ;  he  sees  in  her  the  virtues  of  churchliness  and  outward 
unit3^  the  latter  indeed  preserved  by  the  rack  and  the  faggot; 
while  in  the  Protestant  communions,  under  the  working  of  free 
subjectivity,  that  evil  principle  of  the  Reformation,  he  sees  only 
the  horrible  deformity  of  unchurchliness  and  the  mortal  sin  of  schism 
and  sectarian  confusion.  No  wonder,  after  all  this,  that  our  author 
should  tell  his  German  friends  how  "  easy  a  matter  it  is  in  America 


1S56.]  Schaff  on  America.  131 

for  a  theologian  to  draw  upon  himself  the  charge  of  Puseyism  and 
Romanizing  tendencies,"  and  frankly  confess  his  own  bitter  experi- 
ences in  this  respect. 

In  the  following  passage  our  author  speaks  of  the  prevailing 
opinions  of  American  Protestants  with  respect  to  Popery,  and  char- 
acterises them  as  prejudice  : — 

"  They  see  in  it  (Popery)  the  incarnate  antichrist,  the  man  of  sin  proplie- 
siod  of  by  Paul,  that  exaltcth  himjclf  above  all  that  is  caliofl  (Jod,  or  that  is 
worshipped :  the  synagogue  of  Satan,  the  apocalyptic  beast,  the  Babylonish 
whore,  an  enemy  of  all  liberty  of  thoui^ht  and  belief,  a  fearful  power  of  p<T- 
gecution  of  all  who  think.  ditVerently  from  her,  a  mighiy  tyranny  of  the  con- 
science, a  spiritual  despotism  -which  must  become,  necessarily,  a  political  des- 
potism should  it  ever  obtain  sufficient  power." — P.  153. 

These  sober  opinions  of  so  many  private  Christians  and  learned 
interpreters,  some  of  which  are  based  upon  decrees  of  Papal  coun- 
cils, the  opinions  of  learned  Romish  doctors,  and  the  admitted  prin- 
ciples of  Popery,  the  author  condemns  vrithout  distinction,  nay,  even 
makes  light  of,  and  places  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  the  abuse  of 
Protestantism  by  the  Papal  press  of  this  country. 

Under  his  ecclesiastico-religious  division,  Dr.  Schaff,  after  a 
short  preface,  proceeds  to  a  characterization  of  the  principal  denomi- 
nations of  tlie  country.  He  divides  them  into  two  groups,  the 
English  and  the  German.  The  English  are  the  Congregationalists. 
the  Presbyterians,  the  Episcopalians,  the  Quakers,  the  Methodists. 
and  the  Baptists.  Of  the  last  two  there  are  also  German  branches. 
He  says  : — 

"  All  these  can  be  assigned  to  orthodox  and  evangelical  Protestantism,  since 
in  their  symbols  they  hold  fast  to  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  Holy  -Scrip- 
ture and  of  the  Reformation,  and  bring  forth  a  Christian  Hfe  corresponding 
therewith.  On  the  outermost  boundary  of  orthodo.x:  Protestantism  stand  the 
Baptists  and  Quakers,  who  hence  mostly  bear  the  character  of  sects  in  the 
naiTOwer  sense,  although  the  former  are  very  numerous.  On  the  other  hand 
the  Episcopalians  form  the  extreme  right  wing  of  Protestantism,  and  are  most 
nearly  related  to  Catliolicism ;  this  holds  especially  of  the  High  Church  or 
Puseyite  party." — P.  91. 

But,  although  the  Protestant  Episcopalians  are  thus  placed  with 
liome,  and  the  Quakers  and  Baptists  are  branded  as  sects  in  the 
narrower  sense ;  although  the  Congregationalist  and  Presbyterians 
arc  blamed  as  standing  on  the  utmost  extreme  of  simplicity  and 
unimaginative  tamcness  in  matters  of  public  wor.ship.  and  espe- 
cially as  rejecting  the  use  of  the  cross,  the  altar,  forms  of  prayer. 
clerical  robes,  and  Church  feasts,  particularly  Christmas,  Easter,  and 
Whitsuntide,  yet  it  is  for  the  Methodists  that  he  reserves  his 
sharpest  language. 


13*2  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

"  Methodism  is  one  of  the  most  numerous  of  American  denominations,  perhaps 
the  most  numerous,  and  in  the  state  of  Indiana  has  the  entire  control  of  the 
political  elections.  It  possesses  extraordinary  practical  energy  and  activity, 
and  rejoices  in  an  organization  which  is  most  strilcingly  adapted  to  great 
general  undertakings  and  systematic,  fruitful  cooperation.  Its  ministers  have, 
as  a  rule,  little  or  no  scientific  culture  ;  they,  however,  generally  possess  con- 
siderable git'is  tor  popular  discourse  and  exhortation,  and  often  suj^ply  by 
faithfulness  and  devotion  what  they  lack  in  deeper  knowledge.  They  are 
especially  fitted  for  pioneers  in  new  regions,  for  aggressive  mission  work,  and 
for  labour  among  the  lower  classes.  Their  zeal,  however,  is  very  much 
clouded  by  impure  motives  of  prosclytism,  and  indulges  itself  in  the  most 
shameless  inroads  on  the  material  of  other  Churches  under  the  opinion  that 
they  alone  can  thoroughly  convert  them.  The  ^Methodists  have  also  the 
greatest  intluence  over  the  negroes,  the  free  as  well  as  the  slaves,  and  with  their 
power  of  producing  excitement,  seem  exactly  adapted  to  the  sanguine,  easily- 
moved  negro  temperament.  Formerly  they  condemned  learning  ;iid  theo- 
logv',  from  principle,  and  as  dangerous  to  practical  piety,  and  appealed  to  the 
apostles  and  evangelists  of  the  early  Church  in  justification  of  their  position  ; 
they  were  accustomed  to  boast,  that  although  their  preachers  had  never  rub- 
bed their  ba-.ks  against  the  college  wall,  still  they  knew  belter  how  to  gather 
fish  into  the  net  of  the  kingdom  than  others.  But  in  respect  to  this  question 
an  important  change  has  commenced  within  a  few  years  past.  The  ]\Iethod- 
ists  begin  now  to  establish  colleges  and  seminaries,  to  publish  scientific  jour- 
nals, and  to  follow  the  advancing  culture  of  the  times.  Still  it  is  a  question 
whether  they  will  not,  by  this  means,  lose  more  of  their  peculiar  character, 
and  of  their  intluence  over  the  lower  classes,  than  they  will  gain  among  the 
more  cultivated  cindes.  It  is  characteristic  of  them  (the  Methodist  ministers) 
that  as  soon  as  they  get  a  little  learning  they  are  usually  more  putTed  up  than 
other  people,  and  even  in  the  pulpit  make  a  vain  display  of  it." — Pp.  121, 122. 

Now  ■we  very  mucli  doubt  Avhethcr  our  readers  could  find  any- 
■vrhcre  else,  in  the  same  space,  as  much  flippant  abuse  and  self-com- 
placent slander  as  we  have  here.  As  to  our  being  good  pioneers, 
adapted  to  the  work  among  the  lower  classes  and  suited  to  the  sanguine 
easily-moved  negro  temperament,  we  have  nothing  to  object,  but 
joyfully  appropriate  as  a  compliment  Avhat  perhaps  the  Mcrcorsburg 
theologian  uttered  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  us  into  contempt  in 
Berlin.  It  is  a  great  pity  that  every  Church  is  not  fitted  for  the 
■work  of  saving  the  poor  and  unlettered,  especially  as  Christ  himself 
has  said,  "  Unto  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached."'  But  when  he 
tells  his  auditors  and  readers  that  "the  zeal  of  Methodism  is 
darkened  by  impure  motives  of  prosclytism,"  and  that  she  indulges 
in  the  most  shameless  encroachments  upon  other  Churches,  we  must 
meet  the  bold  and  reckless  assertion  by  aflat  denial,  and  character- 
ize it  as  false  and  slanderous.  The  writer  of  this  article  knows  well 
the  relation  of  ^lethodism  to  the  German  Churches,  especially  in 
Pennsylvania.  If  to  go  into  neighbourhoods  where  God  was  almost 
forgotten,  where  the  members  of  the  regular  Churches,  as  a  rule, 
openly  indulged  in  profanity  and  drunkenness,  and,  on  an  almost 
starving  pecuniary  allowance,  to  preach  the  Gospel  with  a  power  that 


iSoC]  Schaff  on  America.  133 

drove  the  people  from  their  sins  and  induced  them  to  lead  a  new 
life,  evinces  a  zeal  darkened  by  motives  of  pvoselytism.  we  plead 
guilty  to  the  charge.  If  to  gather  these  awakened  and  renewed 
people  into  separate  societies  when  it  was  almost  morally  certain 
that  to  leave  them  in  their  old  associations  was  to  insure  their 
return  to  their  former  habits,  and  when  the  change  through  which 
thc}^  had  passed  had  made  them  objects  of  derision,  not  only  to 
their  neighbours  and  fellow-churchmen  generally,  but  in  most  cases 
also  to  their  pastors ;  if  to  take  pity  on  such  poor  sheep,  and  in 
these  circurastnnces  to  provide  food  and  fold  for  them  is  to  make 
"shameless  inroads  upon  other  Churches,"  then  indeed  are  we  guilt}-, 
and  are  not  ashamed.  And  it  is  precisely  to  these  labours  of  Method- 
ism, both  in  awakening  the  people  and  in  founding  Churches  in  their 
previously  God-forsaken  towns  and  neighbourhoods,  that  the  Ger- 
man Churches  are  indebted,  at  least  in  a  great  measure,  for  the  res- 
toration of  their  spiritual  life,  for  the  beginning  of  those  better  days 
which  he  tells  us  they  are  now  enjoying.  Dr.  Schaff  shall  be  our 
witness  and  judge  on  this  point.  After  speaking  of  that  period  of 
the  history  of  the  American  German  Churches  embraced  between 
the  Revolutionary  war  and  the  year  1820,  which  he  describes  as  the 
period  of  ''torpidity^'  and  '' pcln'faction,"  he  makes  the  following 
statement : — 

"The  principal  incitement,  (i.  e..  to  returning  life,)  came,  at  least  indirect- 
ly, from  the  side  uf  ruritanic  rre.-byterianism  and  Mefhodkm,  and  'n-as  inti- 
mately connected  v,-ith  the  continual  prevalence  of  the  English  language, 
■which,  for  a  few  decenniunis  has  been  pressing  more  and  more  into  purely 
Herman  nciglilinnrlioods,  so  that  the  newly-awakened  life  bore  at  the  begin- 
ning, and  still  bears,  at  least  to  some  extent,  an  English,  partly  Puritanical, 
partly  IMethodistic  character,  and  for  some  time  threatened  cntiieiy  to  destroy 
the  {jeculiarilv.  especially  the  churchly  elements,  of  German  Protestantism,  such 
as  the  use  of  "liturgical  formularies,  the  celebration  of  the  higl>  feasts,  the  rite 
cf  confirmation,  the  mystical  view  of  the  holy  supper,"  Sec. — P.  ITS. 

We  quote  again : — 

"Many  of  the  richest  Pennsylvania  formers  are  uncommonly  stingy  and 
full  of  tiie  mo-t  unreasonable  prejudices  against  every  kind  (<f  pro_ress. 
Alas !  they  are  even  supported  in  it  by  many  preachers  of  the  old  stainp.  who 
trouble  themselves  much  more  about  their  farms,  their  geese,  and  their  cows, 
tlian  about  the  interests  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  who  systematically  keej) 
their  Churches  in  ignorance  and  stupidity.  They  are  indeed  orthodox,  but 
far  more  from  indolence  of  thought  and  motives  of  interest  than  from  inward 
conviction ;  they  are  zealous  fur  the  Lutheran  or  the  Iicformed  Clnnvh.  and 
bawl  themselves  a!mo.-t  hoarse  against  the  so-called  Strablers,  (^lelhoia-ts.) 
and  their  new  measures :  but  with  these  they  assail  at  the  tame  tmie  all  vital, 
practical  Christianltv.  Hai)pilv.  this  generation  of  bt!l!/  jn-itsts  is  rapidly  dying 
oir,"  &e.,  &c.— P.  U'f>. 

This  is  a  specimen  of  that  period  of  torpidity  and  petrifaction 
so  graphically  described  by  our  author,  as  t\lso  of  the  treatment 


134  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

_  encountered  by  the  [Methodists,  when  they  first  began  to  prophesy  over 
this  field  of  death.  This  is  a  picture  to  the  life  of  the  German 
Churches,  both  ministers  and  people :  at  that  time  "  torpid  "  as  the 
serpents  of  their  own  winters,  petrified  harder  than  the  anthracite 
of  their  own  hills,  and  reflecting  as  little  light ;  mere  fossil  churches 
with  bclbj  priests  for  pastors,  more  troubled  about  their  geese  and , 
cows  than  about  the  kingdom  of  God ;  bawling  themselves  hoarse 
with  equal  zeal  against  the  Methodists  and  all  vital  practical  Chris- 
tianity. Over  these  arid  and  desolate  wastes  Methodism  scattered 
the  signs  of  returning  life.  Under  her  mighty,  though  perhaps  in 
some  cases  rude  efforts,  portions  of  the  torpid  flocks  began  to  strug- 
gle and  revive:  the  "petrified"  foi-ms  became  conscious  of  joints, 
and  the  limbs  of  stone  began  to  soften  and  move  ;  and  now  we  are 
told  that  the  result  of  these  labours,  and  of  others  of  a  similar  kind 
put  forth  by  the  Presbyterians,  is,  that  a  better  time  has  come,  and 
the  condition  of  the  German  Churches  is  decidedly  hopeful.  For 
being  the  instruments  of  bringing  all  this  about  the  Methodist  min- 
isters find  their  reward  on  tlie  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  in  having 
their  zeal  described  as  "  clouded  by  impure  motives  of  proselytism." 
But  while  we  repel  and  disprove  this  false  and  ungrateful  charge, 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  state  that  while  the  Methodists  have  always 
strenuously  contended  that  God  alone  converts  the  soul,  yet  they 
have  always  hold  and  acted  upon  the  principle,  that  the  Church 
which  has  been  the  instrument  of  turning  men  to  righteousness  ought 
to  provide  for  their  spiritual  culture,  and  to  have  the  spiritual  over- 
sight of  them.  They  have  further  held,  that  the  openly  wicked  and 
profane,  whom  no  scriptural  Church  discipline  could  allow  to  remain 
in  the  Church,  are  not  in  any  valid  sense  members  of  the  visible 
Church,  and  that  when  such  men  are  taken  in  the  "  Gospel  net " 
and  become  true  Christians,  it  is  just  as  much  the  duty  of  the 
Church  through  whose  labours  they  are  converted,  with  their  con- 
sent, to  receive  them  into  her  communion  as  it  would  be  to  receive 

-  so  many  hoathun  brought  to  Christ  at  one  of  her  missionary  stations 
in  Africa.  In  all  this  they  feel  and  know  that  so  far  from  entering 
upon  other  men's  labours,  they  arc  simply  nurturing  thu  spiritual 

»  children  whom  God  has  given  them,  and  besides  are  frequently 
erecting  a  light  from  which  others  shall  receive  the  rays  of  a 
divine  illumination,  and  even  torpid  and  petrified  Churches  renew 
their  suspended  functions.  But  while  the  Methodists,  thus  gladly 
and  from  conviction,  have  always  received  their  spiritual  off- 
spring, they  have  ever  scorned  to  decoy  Christians  of  other  com- 
munions into  their  own.  Indeed,  they  themselves  have  suffered 
more  from  proselytism  than  any  other  Clmrch  in  the  land :  thousands 


1856.]          ^  Schaff  on  America.  .  135 

converted  among  us  and  formerly  belonging  to  us  are  now  members 
of  other  Churches,  and  scores  of  those  ^vho  were  once  Methodist 
ministers,  both  in  England  and  in  this  country,  are  occupying  the 
pulpits  of  other  denominations. 

It  is  charged  again  that  the  Methodists  formerly  condemned  learn- 
ing and  theology,  both  from  principle  and  from  their  being  danger- 
ous to  practical  piety.  Here  are  two  distinct  charges :  one  is  that 
"the  ;^Iethodists  formerly  condemned  learning  and  theology  from 
principle,"'  that  is,  loved  ignorance  for  its  own  sake,  especially  in 
matters  of  theology ;  the  other,  that  they  considered  both  learning 
and  theology  dangerous  to  practical  piety, — in  other  words,  tliat  they 
held  the  opinion  so  often  attributed  to  Rome,  namely,  that  ignorance 
is  the  mother  of  devotion.  In  reply  to  such  accusations  as  these 
one  scarcely  knows  what  to  say.  The  calumny  is  so  obvious, 
that  to  state  it  is  to  refute  it  and  to  brand  the  author  with 
reckless  error  or  intentional  misrepresentation.  Perhaps  Dr. 
SchafF  supposed  these  things  would  never  reach  the  ears  of  the 
friends  of  Methodism  in  this  country,  while  at  the  same  time 
his  scandalous  misrepresentation  of  her  ministers  and  caricature  of 
her  history  might  have  the  effect  of  making  our  recently-established 
missions  in  Germany  unpopular,  as  Avell  as  of  arming  the  Cicrman 
emigrants  against  the  influence  of  our  domestic  missions  when  they 
arrive  in  this  country.  This  would  seem  to  be  the  method  adopted 
by  the  advocates  of  evangelical  catliolichm  for  the  extirpation  of 
schism,  the  antichrist  of  Mercersburg ;  and  perhaps  the  new  Cathol- 
icism, like  the  old  so  much  admired  by  our  friend,  holds  the  maxim, 
"  the  end  sanctifies  the  means." 

What,  then,  was  the  true  relation  of  early  Methodists  to  learn- 
ing and  theology  ?  Why,  simply  this.  'When  the  Wesleys  found  the 
depths  of. the  spiritual  life,  and  their  ministrations  began  to  be  "in 
power,  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  in  much  assurance ;"  and  when  great 
numbers  were  awakened  and  converted  as  the  fruit  of  their  labours, 
some  of  these  persons,  feeling  themselves  urged  b}'  a  strong  desire. 
and  by  a  conviction  of  duty  equally  strong,  to  call  sinners  to  repent- 
ance, before  they  themselves  or  their  religious  guides  were  aware  of 
it,  were  found  to  be  preaching.  The  labours  of  these  laymen  pro- 
duced abundant  fruits,  and  in  many  cases  exhibited  the  gifts  of  the 
labourers  to  great  advantage.  What  was  to  be  done?  Mr.  Wesley 
saw  the  multitudes  perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge,  with  no  man.  even 
among  the  clergy,  to  care  for  their  souls,  aiid  he  reluctantly  confirmed 
what  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church  had  already  ordered,  and  made 
these  pious  and  zealous  laymen  helpers  of  his  mniistry.  But  did 
Mr.  Wesley  send  these  men  out  to  preach  the  Gospel  because  they 


136  .  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

had  not  been  tuugUt  Latin  and  Greek  and  were  not  skilled  in  the- 
ology as  a  science  ?  ^\''as  it  not  rather  in  spite  of  these  defects,  and 
because  although  they  were  not  learned,  they  were  sensible,  highly 
gifted,  and,  above  all,  deeply  religious  and  fired  with  a  zeal  for  the 
salvation  of  souls,  which  seemed  to  be  the  great  passion  of  their  lives  ? 
Did  he  send  them  out  with  the  advice  to  avoid  books,  to  eschew 
learning,  and  especially  to  keep  clear  of  theology?  We  hardly  need 
sa}'  that  he  himself  was  an  extensive  writer  as  well  as  publisher  of 
books,  intended  to  assist  in  training  his  people  in  the  knov^dedge  and 
practice  of  Christianit}^;  and  that  in  his  advice  to  his  preachers  he 
places  gaining  knowledge  next  to  saving  souls.  In  our  Discipline, 
— in  the  first  ever  published — the  question  is  asked,  "  \Vhy  is  it  that 
the  people  under  our  care  ai-e  not  better  ?"  and  the  answer  given 
is,  "  Other  reasons  may  concur,  but  the  chief  is,  because  we  are  not 
more  knowing  and  more  holj'."  The  next  answer  proceeds  to  direct 
the  preacher  to  spend  at  least  ji^te  hours  every  day  in  study,  and 
declares  that  a  preacher  who  has  no  taste  for  books  must  "contract 
such  a  taste  by  use  or  return  to  his  former  employment.'" 

If  we  come  to  the  earl}'  history  of  our  Church  in  this  country, 
how  do  these  slanders  appear?  Was  Dr.  Coke,  our  first  bishop,  a 
lover  of  ignorance  for  its  own  sake  ?  Did  he  ignore  his  own  learn- 
ing, and  assert  that  he  could  have  been  a  more  pious  man,  or  a  more 
eflicicnt  minister  without  it?  Did  the  early  Methodist  ministers  get 
this  intense  hatred  of  learning  and  theology,  this  belief  that  igno- 
rance is  the  mother  of  devotion,  from  Francis  Asbury,  the  father  of 
American  Methodism,  the  founder  of  Cokesbury  College,  one  of  the 
objects  of  which,  as  stated  hy  himself,  was  to  give  to  our  young  men 
who  are  called  to  preach  "  a  measure  of  that  improvement  Avhich  is 
highly  expedient  as  a  preparative  for  public  service ;"  and  who,  in 
spite  of  the  disadvantages  of  his  early  training,  and  while  engaged 
in  ceaseless  travel  and  daily  preaching  over  the  whole  extent  of  this 
vast  country,  found  time  for  self-culture  and  for  the  earnest  study 
of  the  Scriptures  in  the  original  languages?  Did  .our  fathers  learn 
to  hate  culture  in  general  and  theology  in  particular  from  the  exam- 
ple of  Emory,  and  Hedding,  and  Bangs?  men  whose  youth  was 
spent  with  one  generation  of  Methodist  ministers,,  their  mature 
manhood  with  another,  and  the  beautiful  and  fragrant  old  age  of  one 
of  them  with  still  another.  The  charge  is  false.  For  although  the 
Methodist  Church  has  held  from  the  beginning,  and  still  holds,  that 
neitiier  a  classical  nor  regular  theological  education  is  essential  to 
an  clUcient  Gospel  ministry  ;  and  though  she  has  demonstrated  her 
position  in  away  to  make  the  ears  of  the  world  to  tingle,  yet  she  has 
always  insisted  with  equal  earnestness,  that  those  who  are  called  to 


1S5G.]  ScJiaff  on  A/nerica.  137 

the  work  of  the  ministry  are  bound  to  do  their  utmost  to  cultivate 
their  minds  and  to  acquire  knowledge,  especially  that  which  pertains 
to  their  holy  calling.  Our  fathers  in  the  ministry  were  frequently 
assailed  as  false  prophets  or  as  ignorant  pretenders  and  interlopers, 
by  ministers  who,  with  a  smattering  of  Greek  and  Latin  and  no 
Christian  experience,  had  less  biblical  learning  than  those  whom 
they  abused ;  and  when  thus  attacked  by  the  bcllij  priests,  as  l)r. 
iSehafF  aptly  calls  them,  they  replied,  and  very  truly,  that  although 
they  had  never  been  at  college,  they  were  better  instructed  in  every- 
thing pertaining  to  their  sacred  calling  than  many  who  had  enjoved 
that  advantage.  And  in  further  vindication  of  themselves,  they 
pointed,  like  Paul,  to  their  "  living  epistles,"  and  showed  that  "  the 
net  of  the  Gospel "  in  their  hands,  came  to  the  shore  laden  at  every 
haul  with  the  evidences  of  success,  while  their  maligncrs  laboured 
in  the  dark  and  literally  "  caught  nothing."  Dr.  Schaff  has  either 
carelessly  or  wilfully  borne  false  witness  against  the  early  Methodist 
ministers,  men  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy,  and  who,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  acknowledgment,  had  much  to  do  with  the  reawaken- 
ing of  his  own  "  torpid"  and  "  petrified  "  Church. 

As  to  the  ill-natured  remark,  that  "it  is  characteristic  of  the 
Methodist  ministers,  that  as  soon  as  they  get  a  little  learning,  they 
are  usually  more  puffed  up  than  others,  and  make  a  vain  display 
of  it,  even  in  the  pulpit,"  we  reply,  that  we  are  acquainted  with  no 
Church  in  the  land  so  much  in  danger  from  a  little  learning  as  the 
German  Kefonned.  This  results  from  two  causes:  first,  the  miser- 
able Pennsylvania  German  dialect,  the  vernacular  of  many  of  their 
ministers  and  people  ;  and  secondl}^  the  recent  introduction  of  the 
mystical  and  metaphysical  Mercersburg  theology.  Of  the  German 
dialect  in  use  in  Pennsylvania,  where  the  interests  of  the  German 
Reformed  Church  principally  lie.  Dr.  SchafF  has  given  a  most 
ludicrous  account  in  the  book  before  us.  Here  is  a  verse  of  an 
evening  hymn  in  that  dialect  which  he  quotes  for  the  amusement  of 
his  cultivated  audience. 

"Margets  schoent  die  Sun  so  scho 

0-wits  goat  dcr  gehl  MonJ  uf, 
Margets  leit  dor  Dau  in  Klee, 

Chvits  tritt  mer  Drucke  druf." 

This  lingo,  a  mixture  of  mangled  German  and  English  forms,  inca- 
pable of  being  used  for  any  literary  purpose  whatever,  is  the  native 
speech  of  a  large  number  of  those  who  enter  the  ministry  in  Dr. 
Schaff's  Church.  It  is  true  that  the  Englisli  language  grows  up  by 
the  side  of  their  vernacular,  but  only  as  a  stiff  and  literal  translation 
of  it,  the  sentences  stvinding  as  often  on  their  heads  as  on  their  feet, 
Fourth  Series,  Vol.  Vlll.— 9 


138  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

so  that  both  ]angua(::;es  are  made  to  play  the  harleqiun  together. 
Now  how  is  it  possible  for  young  men  who  start  to  college  knowing 
neither  German  nor  English,  unprovided  with  the  common  channels 
of  thought,  the  simplest  iiistruracnts  of  improvement, — half  of  whose 
time  in  college  must  have  passed  before  they  acquire  freedom  and 
skill  in  either  language, — how  is  it  possible  fur  such  young  men  in 
the  remaining  half  of  their  time  to  get  beyond  the  point  of  "  a  little 
learning?"  And  will  not  these  early  disadvantages  trammel  them 
in  all  after  life  1  But  when  these  young  men  leave  college  and  enter 
the  theological  seminary,  how  are  they,  with  such  slender  prepa- 
ration, and  in  the  short  time  allowed  them,  to  master  the  intrica- 
cies and  fathom  the  depths  of  the  Mercersburg  theology  ? — to  explain 
the  mystery  of  the  mystical  presence,  baptismal  grace,  and  historical 
development?  To  expect  such  a  thing  is  absurd,  and  hence,  ever 
since  this  new  system  became  dominant  in  the  German  Reformed 
Church,  the  most  of  her  ministers  seem  to  move  like  a  man  bearing 
about  him  a  concealed  treasure,  of  which  he  knows  neither  the  value 
nor  the  exact  whereabouts,  though  he  is  pretty  sure  he  has  it  some- 
where. The  general  impression  is,  that  however  clearly  Drs.  Nevin 
and  Schaff  may  be  able  to  see  in  this  newly-imported,  hazy,  German, 
doctrinal  atmosphere,  the  great  body  of  their  ministers  are  befog- 
ged by  their  "  too  little  learning ;''  and  hence  with  a  discretion 
scarcely  to  be  ex])ected  in  this  country  of  independent  thought,  they 
have  mostly  yielded  themselves  in  unreasoning  and  dutiful  silence  to 
the  guidance  of  authority,  and  by  tacit  consent  have  left  both  the 
promulgation  and  defence  of  the  new  theology  to  their  two  great 
leaders.  But  while  with  the  majority  the  effect  of  the  new  teaching 
has  been  thus  repressive  and  sedative,  v.ith  a  considerable  number 
who  think  they  sec  bottom  through  the  deep  or  muddy  waters,  it  has 
been  far  otherwise ;  and  where  a  learned  professor  might  have  pre- 
sented to  his  audience  a  body  of  smoke  in  a  robe  of  moonshine,  and 
supplied  by  rhetorical  and  metaphysical  gymnastics  what  was  lacking 
in  solid  doctrine,  these  poor  fellows  only  grope  and  flounder,  and  in 
quite  a  different  sense  from  that  in  which  Milton  used  the  words, 
"  find  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost,"  until  the  intelligent  in  the 
community  are  reminded  of  the  country  schoolmaster  and  his  aston- 
ished neighbours, — 

"  While  worJs  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound 
Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around." 

With  respect  to  the  charge  of  "conceit"  and  "vain  display"  we 
will  not  deny  that  an  occasional  case  of  the  kind  may  be  pointed 
out  among  us,  as  among  uthcrs,  but  that  it  is  "  characteristic"  we 


1856.]  Schaff  on  America.  139 

altogether  deny :  the  history,  the  spirit,  the  success  of  our  ministry 
all  contradict  it.  Dr.  Schaff  himself  tells  us  in  a  passage  which  we 
shall  by-and-by  translate,  that  the  "  principal  thing  with  the  Meth- 
odists is  to  work  upon  the  sinner;"  and  we  add,  that  this,  (leaving 
off  the  sneer.)  with  the  building  up  of  believers  and  the  training  of 
children,  Methodism  regards  as  her  whole  Avork.  With  these  the 
display  of  learning  is  incompatible,  and  yet  toward  these  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  expect,  and  her  auth.~iritios  demand,  that  every 
sermon  should  tend.  Methodism  in  this  country  annually  receives 
into  her  communion  almost  as  many  persons  as  all  the  other  Prot- 
estant Churches  together; — is  this  great  work  accomplished  by  men 
inclined  to  idle  display,  or  is  it  the  result  of  preaching  the  Gospel 
"not  in  words  which  man's  wisdom  teacheth,  but  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  teacheth  ?"  The  charge  is  false :  our  ministers,  as  a  general 
rule,  whether  they  have  much  learning,  little  learning,  or  none  at  all, 
are  characterized  b}*  earnestness  and  simplicity,  and  so  much  are 
these  qualities  the  fiisliion  among  us,  espocialh'  the  former,  that  a 
minister  who  does  not  possess  them,  must  seem  to  do  so  in  order  to 
be  acceptable.  So  striking  a  characteristic,  not  onl}'  of  our  preach- 
ing, but  of  our  whole  Church  life,  has  earnestness  been,  that  Dr. 
Chalmers,  as  if  to  refute  this  charge  before  it  was  made,  described 
Methodism  as  "  Christianity  in  earnest.'' 

Our  author  finds  a  striking  resemblance  between  Methodism  and 
German  pietism,  on  which  account,  he  says,  the  former  have  easy 
access  to  the  Wiirtemburg  emigrants,  among  whom  there  are 
many  Pietists.  "We  learn,  on  the  other  hand,  from  Dr.  IS'ast  that  this 
last  remark  is  a  decided  blunder :  Methodism  does  little  or  nothing 
with  the  Pietists.  About  twenty  per  cent,  of  the  converts  of  the 
Methodist  German  missions  are  from  the  i-;inks  of  Rome, — the  rest, 
for  the  most  part,  were  Rationalists  or  outright  Infidels. 

We  translate  another  passage : — 

"i^Iethodism  and  Pietism  agree  in  earnestly  insitin^r  upon  subjective  experi- 
mental Christianity — repentance,  conversion,  the  new  birth,  and  indeed  in  a 
particular  -vvay  and  mnnner,  or  method ;  hence  the  name  Methodism.  The 
ruling  spirit  of  the  system  demands  as  a  condition  to  the  complete  fjt'tinn 
thnniqli,  powerful  birth  pains,  an  earnest  battle  of  n>pentance,  a  certain  amount 
of  feeling  of  sin  and  of  grace,  and  ordinarily  also  the  clear  recollection  of  the 
time  ami  place  of  the  new  birth  or  conversion,  two  things  which  Methodism 
regards  as  one." 

We  do  indeed,  with  Jesus  and  the  apostles,  insist  on  experimental 
Christianity,  repentance  and  the  new  birth;  we  labour  to  bring  on 
the  battle  of  repentance,  and  rejoice  in  the  pangs  of  the  spiritual 
birth,  but  we  teach  nothing  in  regard  to  the  specific  amount  of  any. 


140  Schaff  on  America.  [January, 

kind  of  feeling  whatever— just  the  reverse  indeed — we  pretend  to 
have  no  mystical  thermometer  by  which  to  determine  the  spiritual 
temperature  either  of  the  renewed  or  the  penitential  state. 

Dr.  SchafF's  ignorance  of  our  economy,  considering  he  has  under- 
taken to  write  about  us,  is  most  remarkable.  He  tells  his  readers 
that  the  legislative  power  lies  in  the  conferences,  the  administrative 
in  the  hands  of  the  bishops  and  presiding  elders  ;  that  the  preach- 
ers are  not  paid  directly  by  the  people,  but  from  a  general  Church 
fund  ;  that  they  receive  a  moderate  but  respectable  and  fixed  sup- 
port for  themselves,  for  their  wives,  and  for  each  of  their  children,  so 
that  the  increase  of  the  income  keeps  pace  with  the  growth  of  the 
family ;  that  the  widows  and  orphans  of  the  clergy  and  missionaries 
receive  an  excellent  support  from  a  special,  rich,  well-managed  re- 
lief fund.  Most  of  this  might  have  been  said  just  as  appropriately 
of  the  Quakers,  who  have  no  regular  ministry  at  all. 

Our  relation  to  Church  service  and  the  means  of  grace  is  next 
taken  up : — 

"  In  regard  to  divine  service,  tbo  ordinary,  God-ordaincd  means  of  grace, 
do  not  satisfy  Methodism,  and  witii  the  sacraments  she  does  not  at  all  know 
•v\'hat  to  do,  althougli  she  still  traditionally  retains  infant  baptism  and  celebrates 
the  Lord's  supper  four  times  a  year  as  a  simply  conmiemorative  institution. 
It  has  far  more  confidence  in  subjective  means  and  exciting  impressions  than 
in  objective  institutions  and  their  more  quiet  and  imobserved,  but  more  cer- 
tain elliciency.  The  principal  thing  with  Methodism  is  to  work  upon  the 
sinner  with  altogether  special  exertions  of  the  preacher,  and  for  this  purpose 
they  have  discovered  and  completed  in  America  a  peculiar  machinery,  which 
to  Pietism  is  entirely  unknown,  '  namely,  the  system  of  the  so-called  new 
measures.'" 

Among  these  "  new  measures"  are  mentioned  by  the  author,  pray- 
er-meetings and  camp-meetings,  inquiry  meetings  and  class-meetings, 
(the  two  latter  he  regards  as  in  some  measure  a  substitute  for  the 
Romish  confessional,)  and  finally  the  anxious-bench,  which  he 
describes  as  follows  : — 

"  A  purely  American  discovery,  namely,  a  seat  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  to 
which,  after  preaching,  the  penitent  hearer  is  invited,  and  still  further  work- 
ed upon  with  special  exhortations,  in  the  most  exciting  manner,  until  the  new 
life  reaches  the  point  of  breril-inr/  through,  and  then  the  feehng  of  sin-pardon- 
ing grai^e  breaks  forth  in  a  loud  and  ecstatic  rejoicing,  as  just  before  the  sense 
of  sin  had  expressed  itself  in  most  vehement  lamentations,  tears,  agonizing 
groans,  and,  not  untVeipiently,  in  convulsive  fits." 

^Vhat  does  the  learned  doctor  mean  by  saying  that  the  Methodists 
are  not  satisfied  with  the  ordinary  means  of  grace?  They  appear 
to  us  to  find  great  satisfaction  in  them,  and  as  an  evidence  of  it,  they 
devote  their  children  to  God  in  baptism,  they  attend  the  Lord's 


1S56.]  S chaff  on  America.  141 

supper, — in  the  eastern  cities  at  least,  not  "four  times  a  year," 
but  regularly  once  a  month;  and  on  the  Sabbath  day,  even  when 
there  is  no  particular  excitement,  they  croTN'd  their  churches  more 
than  any  others  are  crowded,  to  hear  the  preaching  of  the  word. 
As  to  the  sacraments,  perhaps  the  doctor  means  that  Method- 
ists do  not  show  their  "  practical  religious  respect  for  Rome"'  and 
INIercersburg,  by  adopting  the  doctrines  of  baptismal  regeneration 
and  the  real  spiritual  presence,  as  Dr.  Nevin  would  express  it,  of 
the  human  nature  of  Christ  in  the  holy  supper.  Judging  the 
Methodists,  then,  by  their  practices,  the  only  fair  way  of  judging  in 
such  cases,  they  seem  not  only  to  be  satisfied  with  the  ordained 
means  of  grace,  but  to  love  them.  But  perhaps  the  doctor 
means,  not  that  the  Methodists  are  dissatisfied  with  the  ordained 
means  of  grace,  but  that  they  do  not  consider  them  sufficient,  and 
hence  add  to  them  their  peculiar  usages.  We,  however,  would  beg 
leave  to  dissent  from  this  view  of  the  case  ;  we  use  no  means  of  grace 
the  substance  of  which  is  new ;  we  are  only  "  instant  out  of  season  "  as 
well  as  "  in  season,"  in  the  employment  of  what  is  ordained.  At 
our  camp-meetings  everything  is  old;  wc  have  only  preaching, 
praying,  singing,  and  personal  advice  to  penitents;  our  prayer- 
meetings,  which  Dr.  Schaff  admits  are  not  modern,  and  which  we 
scarcely  need  say,  are  found  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  require  no 
explanation,  much  less  defence ;  they  rest  upon  Scriptural  promise 
and  example,  but,  without  either,  they  would  have  resulted  from  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  Chui'ch,  as  the  necessary  outgrowth  of  the  sympa- 
thy of  praying  hearts.  Our  class-meetings  (not  to  notice  the  stale, 
oft-refuted  charge  of  Romanism,  especially  when  coming  from  Roman- 
izing Mercersburg)  are  a  most  happy  and  successful  effort  to  system- 
atize religious  conversation,  and  to  secure  its  weekly  repetition.  They 
afford  the  members  of  the  Church  frequent  and  regular  opportuni- 
ties to  follow  the  example  of  those  who  in  early  times  "  continued 
steadfastly  in  the  apostles'  doctrine  and/c//o?/-5/;/;^"  and  withv.-hom 
personal  religion  and  the  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom  were  the 
constant  themes  of  conversation.  Similar  statements  might  be 
made  in  respect  to  our  mourner's  bench  or  altar ;  all  that  is  done 
there  is  to  sing,  and  pray,  and  point  the  struggling  penitent  to  tlie 
promises  of  the  Gospel  and  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  Substantial!}', 
then,  the  Methodists  use  the  means  of  grace  instituted  by  Christ, 
and  them  only ;  and  the  objections  brought  against  them  in  this 
connexion,  relate  exclusively  to  non-essential  circumstances,  such 
as,  that  the  preaching,  the  praying,  the  singing,  Sic,  are  done  in  a 
f'rove,  in  a  private  house,  or  at  a  certain  bench  or  altar,  or  on  a  week- 
day.    Concerning  these  circumstances  the  apostles  and  the  private 


142  Scliaff  on  America.  [January, 

Christians  of  tiieir  day  were  as  little  careful  as  the  Methodists  ;  we 
find  them,  not  only  on  the  Sabbath,  but  "  daily  Aviih  one  accord  in 
the  temple."  Paul  goes  into  the  Jewish  synagogues  and  preaches 
on  the  Sabbath  days ;  but  if  it  Avill  better  serve  the  cause  of  Christi- 
anity we  find  him  "  disputing  daihj  in  i\\Q  school  of  one  Tyrannus," 
keeping  up  these  services  for  two  years,  until  all  that  dwelt  "  in  Asia 
heard  the  word  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  At  another  time  the  same 
apostle  joins  with  Silas  in  social  prayer,  and  in  singing  at  midnight 
in  the  prison  at  Philippi.  The  first  Christian  preachers  and  their 
followers  were  intent  upon  using  tlic  means  of  grace  ;  but  whether 
this  was  done  in  the  temple,  in  the  market-place,  in  the  prison,  in 
the  school-room,  in  the  private  house,  or  whether  with  or  without 
benches,  made  but  little  difference  to  them. 

There  are  many  other  things  in  this  book  to  which  as  Methodists 
we  might  object  as  unfair  if  not  spiteful.  Another  considerable 
extract,  however,  shall  content  us.     The  author  says  : — 

"  The  Methodists  not  only  reject  confirmation  as  a  useless  or  hypocritical 
formalism,  but  also  the  idea  of  an  objective  baptismal  grace,  and  ot'ten  in  a 
shocking  manner  neglect  the  entire  religio'js  training  of  their  children,  in 
the  vain,  God-tempting  e.xpectation  that  the  nervons  agitation  of  an  awaken- 
ing sermon  at  a  camp-meeting,  or  a  few  hours  at  the  mourner's  bench,  will 
supply  the  place  of  the  toilsome  process  of  parental  discipline  and  nurture,  and 
regular  pastoral  instruction.  It  is  therefore  no  wonder  that  the  young  genera- 
tion, under  such  iallupnc-e.-',  grow  up  so  destitute  of  good  manners  and  morals. 
and  that,  in  many  neighbourhoods  where  this  light  straw-fire  of  Methodistlcal 
revival  has  blazed  up  brightly,  a  perfect  death  has  made  its  appearance,  with 
a  profane  mockery  of  all  religion." — P.  129. 

This  is  certainly  a  wonderful  passage, — wonderful,  especially  as 
coming  from  a  minister  of  the  German  Reformed  Church,  and.  as 
uttered  against  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church !  Where,  in  the 
name  of  all  "  who  draw  upon  their  imagination  for  their  facts,"  did 
Dr.  Schaff  get  his  information  ?  If  some  of  the  multitudes  of  Meth- 
odist parents  have  neglected  the  training  of  their  children,  as  no 
doubt  they  have,  and  that  sadly,  have  they  told  this  accuser  of  the 
brethren  or  his  particular  friends  that  they  were  guilty  of  this 
neglect  in  the  expectation  that  the  services  of  an  e.xciting  meeting 
would  supply  the  place  of  Christian  nurture  ?  Did  he  learn  it  from 
our  Discipline,  according  to  which  every  minister  solemnly 
promises  at  his  ordination,  "  diligently  to  instruct  the  children  in 
every  place?"  v,hich  makes  it  his  duty  "to  form  Sunday  schools  in 
our  congregations  where  ten  children  can  be  collected;"  "to  preach 
on  the  subject  of  the  religious  instruction  of  children  once  in  six 
months  in  all  our  congregations;"  "to  enforce  upon  Sunday-school 
teachers  and  parents  the  great  importance  of  instructing  children  in 
the  doctrines  and  duties  of  our  holy  religion;"  "to  catechise  the 


1856.]  Schaff  on  America.  I43 

children  in  the  Sunday  schools  and  afc  special  meetings  appointed 
for  that  purpose  ;"  in  "  his  pastoral  visits,  to  speak  personally  to  the 
children  on  experimental  and  practical  godliness,  according  to  their 
capacity,"  -with  many  other  directions  on  the  same  subject?  Did  he 
learn  it  from  our  almost  innumerable  Sunday  schools  scattered  up 
and  down  over  the  whole  country  V  or  from  the  Sunday  School  Ad- 
vocate, visiting  the  lambs  of  our  flock  twice  a  month,  and  repeating 
in  their  ears  the  sweet  words  of  Christ,  "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me?"  or  from  the  Sunday  School  Union  of  the  ^Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  with  its  untold  pious  and  instructive  hooks  for 
children?  Did  he  find  it  in  our  catechisms,  plain  or  pictorial?  or 
has  he  gone  back  to  the  fountain-head  and  learned  it  from  Mr.  ^Vc3- 
ley's  sermon  on  the  religious  education  of  children  ?  or  was  it  only 
a  generous  though  unmeaning  compliment,  intended  as  part  payment 
for  the  share  wc  had  in  restoring  life  to  his  "  torpid  "  and  "  petrified  " 
dmrch?  and  especially  for  "imparting  to  that  new  life  something 
of  a  Methodistic  character  ?"  Or,  finally,  was  this  written  and  pub- 
lished in  Germany  as  so  many  other  kindly  passages  of  his  book 
seem  to  have  been,  for  the  purpose  of  warning  Germans  about  to 
emigrate  to  this  country  against  the  practical  Methodists  and  their 
"artfully  contrived  machinery,"  and  particularly  to  thwart  the  sec- 
tarian mischief  then  threatening  from  the  Methodist  missions 
just  established  in  Germany?  That  this  last  was  an  important 
part  of  his  design,  seems  probable,  not  only  from  the  general  tone 
of  his  strictures  upon  Methodism,  but  especially  from  two  or  three 
passages.  On  page  214,  speaking  of  what  has  been  done  in  this 
country  toward  making  spiritual  provision  for  the  Germans,  our 
author  mentions  the  labours  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and 
then  tells  his  Berlin  audience,  jealous  for  the  honour  of  their  nation, 
and  proud  both  of  their  Christianity  and  their  intellectual  culture, 
that  the  "  Methodists  have  even  sent  a  missionary  to  Germany,  as 
if  it  were  a  heathen  land,  in  order  to  Christianize  it  after  the  Meth- 
odist fashion."  And  on  page  liTO  he  says:  "A  proof  of  the  zeal 
of  the  Germano- American  Methodists  and  of  their  strange  over- 
estimate of  their  mission  (aufgabe)  is  seen  in  the  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance, that  recently  they  have  even  sent  several  missionaries 
to  Germany,  in  order  to  draw  it  out  of  the  slough  of  a  real  or  sup- 
posed heathenism,  and  to  Christianize  it  after  the  Methodist  fashion." 
A  little  further  on  he  adds:  "  Perhaps,  indeed,  arcgular  Methodistical 
thunder- showi-r  in  some  of  the  dead  regions  of  Germany  might  be  pro- 
ductive of  the  most  beneficial  results  ;  although  it  might  be  better  it 
should  fall  from  the  native  sky,  and  not  be  obliged  to  be  first 
artistically   imported    from    America."      It    is    true,    the    doctor 


144  S chaff  on  America.  [January, 

advises  the  authorities  not  to  persecute  the  missionaries,  giving  it  as 
his  opinion  that  if  Rationalists  and  Pantheists  are  tolerated,  even 
in  the  pulpit,  vre  also  ought  to  be  let  alone.  But  let  any  thought- 
ful man,  not  to  say  Christian,  or  Christian  minister,  look  at  these 
passages  in  conne:cion  vrith  the  general  tone  of  all  he  has  said  on 
Methodism,  and  at  the  same  time  remember  the  tender  infancy  of  the 
Methodist  mission  in  Germany  at  the  time  these  things  were  utter- 
ed, and  let  him  say,  -u-hether  in  the  gentlest  jurlgment  of  charity, 
Professor  Schaff  did  not  do  his  utmost  in  all  that,  as  an  adopted 
American  citizen  he  dare  do,  to  bring  our  missionaries  in  Germany 
into  disrepute,  to  hedge  up  their  vray,  and  to  secure  their  return  to 
America  -without  fruit?  All  this  appears  the  more  -wonder- 
ful, -ft'hen  v,-e  remember  that  the  author  himself  has  told  us  that 
full  one-half  of  the  Germans  who  come  to  this  country  since  the 
revolutions  of  184S  are  Rationalists  and  Infidels,  and  leaves  us  to 
infer  that  multitudes  of  the  same  kind  still  remain  in  the  fatherland. 
We  must  not  fail  to  mention,  before  concluding,  that  Rev.  Mr  Xip- 
pert,  one  of  our  missionaries  in  Germany,  has  replied  to  Dr.  Schaff's 
misrepresentations  of  Methodism  in  a  series  of  letters,  published  in 
the  Christian  Apologist,  Cincinnati.  These  letters  are  pungent 
and  direct  in  style,  and  in  spirit,  pious,  becoming,  and  dignified. 


Since  the  above  article  -was  written  a  translation  of  Dr.  Schaff's 
book  has  appeared  in  this  country.  Among  other  differences  between 
the  original  and  the  translation,  we  notice  the  following :  On  page 
172  of  the  translation,  he  has  slightly  modified  his  account  of  the 
ecclesiastical  constitution  of  Methodism.  On  pages  ITS  and  179, 
besides  mentioning  the  period  of  "torpidity,"  6lc.,  less  specifically 
than  in  the  original,  he  withdraws  the  admission,  that  "Methodism 
and  Presbyterianism  had  contributed  to  the  revival  of  the  German 
Churches ;"  stating  in  general  term.s  th.at  those  Churches  were 
"  awakened  from  their  lethargy  by  the  Anglo-American  churches." 
On  page  235  he  has  left  out  the  strongest  part  of  his  most  objec- 
tionable passage  on  Romanism ;  that,  namely,  in  v.hich  he  confesses 
for  it  his  "powerful,  historical,  theological,  artistic,  and  practically- 
religious  respect." 

The  third  part  of  the  book,  as  it  stood  in  the  original,  has  been 
greatly  altered  and  abridged  in  the  translation,  for  reasons  stated  by 
the  author. 


1856.3  Letlers  on  Recent  French  Literature,  i  145 

Art.  Vn.— letters    ON  RECENT  FRENCH  LITERATURE. 

I.ETTKR   VI. 

Paris,  October,  1855. 

To  THE  Editop., — A  volume  has  just  been  published  in  this  city,  of 
which  tbc  title  and  et  ceteras  are  as  follow:  Du  Sommc'd  au  Point  ile  vuc 
Plujsiolojniuc  it  r^uchol'jghiuc.  Par  Albert  Lf-moini:,  Docb.  nr  Is  Lrtlrcs,  Sj'c. 
Ouvrage  Couronne,  par  rinstitut  do  France.     1vol.     Paris:  18:i5. 

The  progi-araiuc  of  this  treatise  was  proposed  a  year  ago  by  the  French  Acad- 
emy, as  follows: — "  1.  Of  sleep  in  a  psychological  point  of  view.  2.  What  are 
the  faculties  of  the  soul  that  subsist,  or  are  suspended,  or  considerably  modified 
during  sleep  ?  3.  "What  is  the  essential  difference  between  dreaming  and 
thinking  ?  The  competitors  will  include  in  their  researches  somnambulism  and 
its  different  species.  4.  In  natural  somnambulism  is  there  consciousness  and 
personal  identity  ?  5.  Is  artificial  somnambulism  (^mesmerism)  a  fact  ?  6.  If  ■ 
a  fact,  to  study  and  describe  it  in  its  least  contestable  phenomena,  to  deter- 
mine those  of  our  facidtics  that  are  concerned  in  it?  operations,  and  to  try 
to  furnish  a  theory  of  this  state  of  the  soul  in  accordance  with  tlie  rules  of 
a  soundly  philosophic  method." 

This  statement  of  the  thesis,  entirely  worthy  of  a  learned  body,  was  almost 
faultless  in  philosophical  precision  and  subordination.  The  successful  compet- 
itor has  not  done  well  in  overlooking  it.  A  new  theory  of  the  whole  subject 
might  alone  necessitate  a  change  of  order,  or  at  least  of  subdivision,  in  the 
details.  But  when  the  project  went  no  deeper  than  the  discussion,  the  devel- 
opment, and  the  direction  upon  certain  points  of  facts  already  known,  but 
unconnectedly,  it  was  quite  optional  with  the  author  to  observe  the  order  so 
■well  presented  him.  This  he  has  by  no  means  done,  or  only  gen>^rally  and 
vaguely.  No  more  has  he  any  systematic  order  of  his  own.  Not,  however, 
that  the  book  appears  confused  in  the  perusal.  It  has  the  superficial  clearness 
which  is  the  forte  of  the  French  savant;  it  is  precise  in  expression,  it  is  per- 
spicuous in  arrangement,  it  is  prolixly  prudent  in  restricting  inference  and 
speculation  ;  it  has  the  sound  but  senile  character  too  much  in  fiivour  with  the 
present  Academy,  the  measure  and  moderation  of  which  the  public  al>o  mis- 
take for  method.  The  real  confusion  and  incoherence  of  l)Ooks  of  this  class 
become  observable  only  to  the  few  who  gi'asp  the  contents  at  once  collec- 
tively and  concisely.  I  must  attempt  to  give  a  succinct  abstract  of  a  work  of 
which  the  subject  is  of  general  interest,  and  is  also  a  special  object  of  American 
curiosity.  In  doing  this,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  division  of  the  theme  by  the 
'  Academy  to  arrange  correspondingly  the  author's  results  or  conclusions,  lor 
these  alone  can  be  presented  within  the  limits  of  a  mere  notice  :  the  connexion 
between  the  series  of  solutions,  or  at  least  of  answers,  will  be  supplied,  when 
briedy  possible,  only  from  the  premises  of  the  writer,  so  that  this  ^-litlcal  addi- 
tion will  not  need  distinction  in  the  analysis. 

1.  To  consider  sleep  "  in  the  psychological  point  of  view,"  (as  proposed,)  it 
is  necessary'  to  determine  what  it  is  in  the  physiological.     In  this  respect  it  is 


146  .Letters  on  Recent  French  Literature.        [January, 

not  a  suspension  merely  of  "  the  life  of  relation,"  that  is  to  say,  of  the  senses 
and  other  or;2;ans  that  act  externally;  it  applies  also  to  the  internal  organs  of 
nutrition.  Tlic  heart  sleeps  between  the  alternations  of  pulsation,  the  lungs 
between  the  alternations  of  respiration  ;  the  sleep  or  rest  is  only  short  because 
the  effort  is  so  too.  The  sole  difference  in  case  of  the  external  organs  of  rela- 
tion is  that  the  sleep  or  the  repose  is,  in  this  instance,  much  more  durable  ;  but 
it  is  only  so  in  just  proportion  to  the  duration  of  the  labour.  The  eye  could 
not  bo  closed  at  short  intervals  of  vision  -without  breaking  up  the  images  re- 
llccted  by  exterior  olijects;  audition  could  not  be  subjected  to  a  like  rapid 
intermission  v/ithout  disttu-bing  and  distorting  the  impressions  of  sound  ;  and 
so  of  the  other  senses  respectively  in  their  departments.  If  only  one  or  more 
of  them  were  liable  to  this  condition,  their  fragmentary  reports  would  be  at 
variance  with  the  others,  and  would  thus  establish  in  the  percipient  a  sort  of 
subjective  chaos  ;  if  all  the  senses  vere  thus  intermittent,  then  the  chaos  would 
be  also  objective  ;  their  operation,  without  continuity  enough  to  seize  the 
images  or  the  relations  of  external  objects,  could  represent  them  in  no  con- 
formity with  the  reality,  and  would  make  even  the  persistence  of  animal  life 
upon  the  earth  impossible.  It  was  imperative,  then,  as  a  first  condition  of  ex- 
istence, not  to  say  of  rationality,  that  the  repose  of  the  external  senses  should, 
like  their  action,  have  longer  periods.  It  is  this  periodic  respite,  coincidin<T 
naturally  with  the  niglit,  which  relieves  the  principal  of  those  organs  from  the 
sounds  and  images  besotting  them,  that  is  called  sleep,  physiolo-zi'^al  sleep. 

2.  But  this  is  not  yet  sleep  "  in  the  psychological  point  of  view ;"  that  is  to 
say,  the  sleep  of  the  soul.  Here  the  answer  is,  The  soul  docs  not  sleep  at  all; 
activity,  like  innnortality,  is  its  inseparable  essence.  2sone  of  its  faculties  are 
suspended  during  the  sleep  of  the  body ;  their  operation  is  obstructed  by  the 
resistance  of  the  physical  oi-gans,  as  the  will  to  walk  in  a  paralytic  is  not  sus- 
pended but  impeded  :  the  modifications  thus  incurred  by  them  is  more  or  less 
considerable  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  torjx)r  of  the  organs  to  be  act- 
uated. And  this  dilierence  in  the  degrees  of  depth,  and  in  the  times  of  inci- 
dence, of  slumber,  wh.ich  are  known  perpetually  to  vary  in  the  divers  organs 
of  the  senses,  is  the  occasion,  by  the  diversity  of  their  resistance  to  the  surging 
soul,  of  dreaming,  and  the  other  phenomena  of  sleep. 

3.  Is  there,  then,  no  essential  ditTerence  between  dreaming  and  thinking  ? 
None  whatever  in  the  act  itself:  the  observed  difference  is  in  the  results,  and 
this  proceeds  from  the  tiirec  sources  just  alluded  to.  The  mental  vagaries  of 
dreams,  &c.,  arc  due  to  false  or  incomplete  impressions  received,  accordinor  as 
the  slumber  is  complete  or  only  partial,  from  the  interior  organs  of  nutrition, 
or  the  exterior  organs  of  relation,  or  the  resistance  to  the  consequent  volitions 
of  the.  soul.  The  first  order  of  impressing  agencies, — such  as  the  motion  of  the 
blood,  the  digestion  of  the  stomach,  the  secretion  of  the  lluids,  &c., — which 
derive  a  special  prominence  from  the  suspension  of  the  sensuous  organs,  give  occa- 
sion to  the  most  common  class  of  dreams — the  dreams  of  mere  s<  u:'ation.  The 
organs  of  the  senses  proper,  when  lulled  imperfoctly,  or  only  paitially,  and  forced. 
>n  absence  of  external  objects,  to  repeat  to  that  extent  their  recent  processes, 
afli--t  the  soul  with  the  impressions,  in  of  course  a  mutilated  form,  of  the  things 
that  most  or  last  engrossed  it  when  the  body  was  dl  awake  :  l:ciRe  the  dreams, 


1856.]  Letters  on  Recent  French  Literature.  147 

as  thej"  are  called,  of  memory,  perception,  imagination,  or  as  contrasting  with  the 
preceding  class,  the  dreams  of  intelligence.  The  soul  proceeding  on  the  elements 
supplied  it  from  these  two  sources,  and  with  the  confidence  which,  from  the  very 
uniformity  of  its  procedure,  it  must  repose  in  their  reality  as  when  the  organs 
are  awake,  is  often  stimulated  by  them  to  reaction  uixm  the  body,  and  thus 
gives  rise  to  a  third  order,  the  dreams  of  action  or  culilion.  r>ut  in  all  three 
classes  the  illusion  which  is  put,  in  dreaming,  upon  the  soul,  is  derived  exclusively 
from  the  impressions;  the  soul  itself  and  all  its  faculties  remain  the  same  as  in 
its  soundest  thinking ;  its  very  error  is  an  attestation  of  this  i'lentity  of  state, 
as  the  sounder  a  logician  is  the  more  he  errs  upon  a  false  assumption ;  even  Lo 
can  be  corrected  only  by  control  of  the  other  senses;  but  in  the  dreamer  a  I'or- 
tain  portion  of  these  mental  monitors  sleep  at  their  post.  It  is  the  same,  in 
due  proportion,  with  the  waking  visions  of  the  monomaniac,  and  even  the  mul- 
titude are  always  dreamers  in  thoughts  that  range  above  the  senses. 

The  dreams  of  action  or  volition,  which  hold  the  middle  in  this  general 
series  of  the  psychological  phenomena  of  sleep,  embrace,  especially,  a  subdi- 
vision of  the  most  remarkable  of  these  phenomena,  which  have  on  this 
account  been  thought,  as  usual,  of  a  nature  quite  peculiar.  The  sensational 
and  intellectual  dreams  ai'c  known  only  to  the  dreamer;  the  volitional  or  active 
dreams  express  themselves  externally,  and  strike  the  vulgar  in  proportion  to 
their  coar:>ely  physical  perceptibility.  The  same  oversight  of  the  gradation 
of  intermediate  stages,  which  passes  equably  those  three  principal  divisions 
into  one  another,  recurs  again  in  the  misapprehension  of  the  extreme  cases  of 
the  active  dreams  as  being,  in  turn,  entirely  different  phenomena.  Thus  the 
volitions  of  the  soul,  made  in  pursuance  of  the  impressions  received  in  sleep 
from  the  interior  or  the  vegetative  group  of  organs,  are  scarcely  noticed  except 
in  the  case  of  that  derangement  of  the  blood  or  stomach  which  produces  the 
well-known  vision  called  the  nightmare.  When  the  exterior  or  the  muscular 
organs  are  the  occasion  of  the  volitions,  and  may  have  thus  remaincil  enough 
awake  to  obc-y,  we  have  the  active  dreams  of  talking,  of  writing,  &e.,  in  sleep ;  but 
that  of  walking,  as  the  more  manifest,  has  named  the  class  somnambulism.  In 
the  third  place,  if  the  impressions  and  the  consequent  volitions  be  confined  lo  the 
cerebral  organs  of  the  intellect,  we  find  the  dreamer  sometimes  conscious  that 
he  is  dreaming,  the  soul  conducting  dialogues  and  disinitationa  with  itself,  re- 
solving problems  as  in  Franklin,  philosophizing  as  in  CondilIac,and,  in  fact,  div- 
ing into  the  di.-taut  and  the  future  as  in  clalrcu'iance.  In  all  these  cases  of  artu-r 
dreaming,  as  in  the  passive  and  perceptive  orders,  the  soul's  three  faculties,  to 
■wit,  sensation,  volition,  ratiocination,  are  and  act  the  same  essentially  as  when 
the  body  is  awake ;  the  results  only  are  modified  through  the  defect  of  the 
reports  and  the  degree  of  the  resistances  presented  by  the  bodily  organs, 
whether  vascular,  muscular,  or  nervous. 

The  dreams  of  this  last  division  are  included  quaintly  by  the  Academy  (no 
doubt  too  prudish  to  employ  the  quack  names)  in  tlie  term  "  natural  ."ommvn- 
btilisvi;"  and  by  "artificial  somnanibuli.sm."'  it  nifans  mesmeri;^nig  or  mag- 
netizing. Its  ensuing  queries  are,  if  iu  the  former  siatc  the  soul  be  conscious 
of  its  identity  ?  and  if  the  latter  state  be,  in  the  first  place,  a  fact  ? 

4.  Yes ;  personal  identity  continues  in  the  somnambulist,  in  the  ecstatic,  in 


148      -.  Letters  on  Recent  French  LilcnUure.        [January, 

the  maniac,  the  dreamer,  &c.;  if  not,  indeed.  In  distinct  consciousness,  in 
recognition,  in  implication.  ^Vllen  they  mistake  themselves  for  other  persons, 
or  as  performinif  fantastic  parts,  or  -when  they  utterly  forget  such  scenes  on 
the  return  of  the  natural  state,  the  illusion  turns  really  only  upon  externals 
more  or  less  intimate,  upon  localities,  upon  habiliments,  upon  sentiments,  &c. ; 
the  nucleus  of  the  individual  remains  essentially  supposed.  It  is  to  this  alone, 
moreover,  that  consciousness  can  apply.—Consciousncss  is  only  one  of  the 
three  elements  of  identity.  The  first  of  these  is,  that  there  be,  objectively,  a 
continuous  existence  ;  to  be  always  the  smnc,  it  is  plainly  necessary  to  be  o.lvyjy^. 
Consciousness,  which  is  the  second  and  the  subjective  element,  applies  bat  "to 
the  distinct  instants  of  the  duration;  it  recognises  individuality,  but  by  no 
means  identity.  The  latter,  being  a  relative  notion,  or  embracing  more  than 
a  single  term,  could  be  acquired  only  through  a  corresponding  faculty,  and  ac- 
cordingly the  crowning  elemi-nt  of  personal  identity  is  the  relational  condition 
of  reminiscence.  But  this,  connecting  the  successive  consciousnesses  at  each 
instant  as  they  arise,  and  placing  thus  implicit  confidence  at  every  moment 
in  the  general  result,  keeps  no  distinctive  recollection  of  the  several  steps  of 
the  procedure,  unless  when  marked  by  the  concurrence  of  some  more  than 
ordinary  incident.  If  this,  however,  do  not  seem  unnatural,  or  quite  at  variance 
with  all  around  it,  it  is  through  the  medium  of  the  circumstances,  interwoven 
with  the  web  of  consciousnesses,  and  occasions  no  solution  of  continuity.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  the  incident  present  a  scene  which  is  out  of  nature,  or  in 
complete  discord  with  the  i-eality  of  the  situation,  the  trenchant  contrast  ap- 
pears to  insulate  the  ravished  soul  from  its  former  self,  the  novel  spectacle 
stands  out  so  strikingly  from  the  -whole  tenor  of  the  reminiscence  as  to  escape 
it,  hke  unshaded  objects  that  seem,  in  painting,  to  quit  the  canvas.s.  Ignorance 
puts  upon  a  peasant  the  like  illusion  in  a  picture,  as  organic  malady  puts^ 
upon  a  somnambulist  as  to  his  personal  Identity. 

5.  Artificial  sonmambulism  or  mesmerism  e5  a  fact,  but  with  the  follo^ring 
rather  strlngeut  limitations.  The  bt;licf  in  it,  as  such,  leaves  undecided  these 
inquiries :  "What  are  the  cases  that  are  fully  verified,  and  are  they  new  or  out 
of  nature?  The  cause  or  agency  that  produces  them,  which  is  it,  physical  or 
moral  V  "\\'hat  is  the  evidential  value  of  the  testimony  of  the  dreamer  as  to 
the  cause  and  to  the  character  of  his  condition  ?  One  may  believe  in  the  pro- 
duction of  artificial  somnambulism  without  committin;;;  himself  pro  or  con  upon 
any  one  of  these  restrictive  qucsticms.  They  niay,  huv/cver,  be  all  pronounced 
upon  already  with  probability.  In  the  production  of  the  state  in  question, 
there  is  nothing  unnatural  or  even  new.  Like  other  arts,  it  follows  nature, 
and  does  not  force  her;  it  presented  itself  naturally,  in  antiquity,  to  priest 
and  pythoness.  The  like  cfl'ccts  are  produced  normally  by  opium  or  other  nar- 
cotics. The  agent  of  the  magneti/cr  is  not  the  absurd  tluid  pretended,  but 
the  morbid  sensibility  or  predisposition  of  the  subject.  It  is  a  waking  case  of 
the  reactive  class  of  dreams  above  explained,  the  soul's  reaction  in  this  instance 
being  in  imagination.  It  was  the  sense  of  control  by  the  resistance  of  the  dor- 
mant organ  that  threw  the  soul,  we  saw,  into  its  visionary  exaltations.  But  the 
supreme  quality  of  an  "'operator"  is,  analogousl}-  to  the  organ,  to  impress  the 
subject  with  a  like  sense  of  his  control.     The  whole  power  of  the  magnctlzers 


1856.]  Letters  on  Recent  French  Literature.  149 

Las  been  maximized  by  Virgil:  ^' Possunt,  quia  posse  creduxtcr."  As  to 
the  third  point,  or  the  testimony  of  the  party  magnetized,  the  allegation  of  it 
b  a  begging  of  the  question ;  the  sentiments  or  declarations  which  are  .inspired 
by  an  illusion  can  be,  of  course,  no  more  reliable  than  the  illusion  wliich  is  their 
basis.  The  inevitable  subjectivity  and  unreality  of  those  explanations  of  the 
somnambulists  themselves,  both  artiticial  and  sp(jutaneous,  is  well  evinced  by 
the  con ta piousness  of  the  phenomena  at  special  epochs,  and  their  coutbrmity  to 
the  condition  of  the  age  and  of  the  indlvIduuL  Thus  the  ec^tatIcs  of  aniiiiuity 
were  endowed  mainly  with  the  powers  of  prophecy,  to  suit  tlio  curicbity  of  those 
a<^e3  about  future  events.  The  ascetieally  religious  preoccupations  of  the  mid- 
dle ages  gave  the  somnambulists  the  form  of  demoniacs ;  in  our  own  day,  the 
American  '-mediums"  are  the  reporters  of  departed  spirits,  whose  ruvclati'jus 
are  as  puerile  as  the  conversations  of  the  community. 

6.  The  final  article  of  the  programme  is  not  a  qucitiou,  but  a  condition,  a 
requisition  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  subject  should  be  treated.  1  briefly 
indicated  at  the  outset  the  general  manner  of  the  author,  much  less  conforma- 
ble, I  think,  to  method  than  to  the  spirit  of  the  Academy ;  and  hence,  perhaps, 
in  large  part,  his  coronation.  I  close  -with  a  transcription  of  the  author's  simv 
mary  conclusion : — 

"Man  is  never  wholly  either  healthy  or  sick,  either  wise  or  insane,  either 
awake  or  asleep.  He  carries  sickness  in  health,  and  health  iu  the  midst  of  sick- 
ness; reason  still  persists  in  the  delirium  of  the  maniac,  and  folly  is  commin- 
gled v<-ith  the  meditations  of  the  sage.  Never  have  the  organs  of  the  senses,  all 
together,  or  even  each  of  them  iu  particular,  that  supremo  or  main  degree  of 
agility  and  of  lucidity  which  would  be  properly  called  wukefulness;  never  are 
they  buried  in  that  profoun'l  torpor  which  would  be  absolute  sleep.  The  wakinr 
and  the  healthy  states  of  the  body  and  of  the  mind  are,  as  it  were,  an  ide:il 
type  which  is  never  realized  in  life.  We  designate  by  the  words  malady,  niad- 
ness,  sleep,  the  states  v/hich  diverge  widely  from  the  ordinary  conditions  of  life 
and  from  the  regular  course  of  nature,  uncertain  by  what  names  to  call  the 
states  of  our  boCly  and  soul,  which  vary  slightly,  or  but  transiently,  from  an 
unsettled  and  relative  main.  At  every  instant,  and  on  all  sides,  we  quit  tins 
salutary  temperament  which  constitutes  the  free  possession  of  one's  self  and  of 
his  organs.  Nothing  is  more  dit^icult  than  to  limit  and  define,  perhaps  because 
there  are  no  limits  in  the  continuous  order  of  nature.  Liberty,  reason,  are  the 
attributes  of  man  ;  but  where  do  they  commence,  where  do  they  terminate?  The 
child  who  does  not  yet  enjoy  them,  the  idiot  who  wiU  do  so  never,  the  madman 
who  has  lost  them  irrecoverably,  the  sleeper  in  whom  they  rest  for  a  time,  are 
they  not  human?  Sensibility,  activity,  intelligence,  range  over  the  intinite  de- 
grees of  a  vast  scale :  by  turns  crude,  obscure,  confused  or  noblo.  clear  or 
subtle,  they  desceud  or  ascend  with  ditl'ertnt  ages,  with  varying  eonditi-ms  and 
circumstances.  ... 

"  A  firm  and  directive  will  can  alone  maintain  all  the  powers  of  our  soul  in 
the  high  j)osition  assigned  by  nature  to  man.  Man  is  culpable  when  he  abli- 
cates  it  voluntarily.  But  this  moderatiug  power  is  wrested  from  him  poriodi- 
cally  by  sleeps,  and  sometimes  violently  by  the  derangement  of  his  organ-. 
Sleep,  somnau)bulisui,  ecstasy,  pass  the  intellect  through  all  its  conditions  aiul 
degrees;  they  crush  its  energy,  blunt  its  senses,  obscure  its  thought.^,  or  tu -y 
give  it  an  abnormal  arilour,  exquisiteness.  exaltation.  .<i>metiiiies  t:.e  sleeper  i? 
like  the  animal  that  vegetates,  immovahle  in  his  place  arid  almost  inseii-^iblo  ; 
sometimes  be  perceives  confusedly  interior  or  exterior  p  lin.  Auun  the  dn-anier 
has  but  tiie  absurd  or  imbecile  visions  of  the  madman;  aiu/U  his  rhuugiits  are 
clear  anil  couscquent,  as  when  awake.  In  line,  the  e.-static  sonuiamV.ulist.  in  h:s 
extravagant  delirium,  is  sometimes  rapt  away  from  the  reality:  but  sometimes 
his  intelligence  is  lucid  and  almost  rational.    At  tli-  -^iine  time,  however  closely 


150  Letters  on  Recent  French  Literature.        [Jauuary, 

tbe  human  intellect  may  descend,  in  profound  sleep  and  idiotism,  to  the  unintel- 
ligent and  senseless  animals,  it  remains  always  unalterable,  with  all  its  powers; 
for  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  matter  to  extinguish  in  our  souls  completely  the 
torch  of  reason,  though  it  were  to  Lurn  there  without  light  and  without  heat. 
But,  on  tlie  other  hand,  however  high  the  excited  organs  may  seem  to  carry  it, 
they  have  still  less  the  power  of  giving  it  new  faculties." 

''.i  Theory  of  Natural  History^  General  and  Special,  hy  l^uyortE  GeoFFEOY 
1)1-:  St.  Hilaiuk,  Professor  in  the  Museum  of  Natural  History  of  this  city,"  is  a 
work  that  merits  tlie  attention  of  your  scientific  readers.  With  all  the  posi- 
tive and  precise,  doctrines  of  the  merely  practical  treati-^cs,  it  mixes  an  unusual 
quantity-  of  philosophical  discussion,  which  supplies  a  sort  of  leaven  to  make 
more  digestible  those  technicalities.  The  first  volume  of  tlic  work,  which  has 
alone  appeared  as  yet,  might  indeed  pass  for  being  a  treatise  of  logic.  It  dis- 
cusses all  the  methods  affected  specially  to  all  the  sciences,  from  the  syllogism 
of  Aristotle  to  the  social  methods  of  M.  Comte.  Tiic  author  Is  not  equally  at 
Lome  In  all  those  branches ;  he  .shares  the  general  defects  In  their  definition 
and  classification.  Yet  his  views  are,  If  but  mainly  from  the  comprehensive- 
ness of  th.c  survey,  much  more  sound,  upon  tlie  whole,  than  is  habitual  to 
French  saraiif!.  It  may,  moreover,  be  admitted,  in  apology  for  the  deficien- 
cies, that  the  discussion  of  the  otiior  methods  was  intended  onlv  as  subsidiary 
to  tlie  euforceuient  of  that  applied  by  him  to  the  department  of  Natural 
Histor}-. 

How  he  has  treated  this  his  speciali!c\  It  would  be  rash,  no  doubt,  in  me  lo 
judge.  M.  Isidore  is  the  son  and  pupil  of  the  illustrious  St.  Hilalrewho  Is  the 
founder,  at  least  in  Franco,  of  the  progressive  school  of  physiology;  and  he 
assumes  to  be  his  heir  In  science  as  well  as  in  succession.  I  may,  however, 
venture  on  a  single  observation  as  to  a  point  wherein  his  competency  should 
be  certainly  the  least  contestable.  Ilis  father,  GeolTroy,  was,  it  Is  known,  the 
rival  of  Cuvler;  ihey  were  antagonists  in  both  the  method  and  the  theory  of 
natural  history.  The  latter  was  empirical,  or  what  Is  vulgarly  called  induc- 
tive ;  he  kept  to  "  facts,"  and  was  the  oracle  of  the  past.  St.  Hllaire  was 
deductive,  analytic,  a  man  of  theory,  the  organ  of  the  future,  and  therefore 
persecuted  by  the  present.  A  pious  purpose  of  the  sou  Is  to  vindicate  the 
father's  system ;  but  to  this  end  he  wisely  seeks  to  reconcile  the  rival 
theories.  The  most  decisive  means  to  this,  however,  though  well  known 
to  him,  he  overlooks.  In  a  previous  jiurtion  of  the  vohunc,  he  had  shown 
that  the  two  methods  known  scholaslically  as  synthesis  and  analysis,  so  far 
from  being  antagonistic,  as  Is  commonly  supposed,  are  quite  concordant  with 
and  conij)Icmentarv'  of  each  other.  But  these,  procedures  were  respectively 
the  philosophical  tharactcristlcs  of  the  hostile  schools  of  Cuvier  and  of  St 
Ililairc :  the  former  syntlietized  the  past,  the  latter  analyzed  the  future,  or 
unexplored,  of  the  same  department  of  nature.  Their  scientific  cooperation 
would  then  be  demonstrated  by  their  metliods.  But  our  author,  with  this 
means  of  demot)stration  before  his  eyes,  adduces  nothing  for  the  fusion  except 
feeble  generalities  :  a  proof  presumptive  that  his  conception  of  the  methods 
mentioned  is  not  still  complete,  nor  perhaps  even  that  of  the  theory  of  his 
father.      '\Vlu\t  would   confirm  this  alternative   is,  that   in  labouring  to  jus- 


1S56.]  Letters  on  Recent  French  Literature.  151 

tify  his  father's  celebrated  "  Tkcorij  of  Analogues,"  he  fails  distressingly  to 
show  its  scientific  character.  He  need,  however,  but  define  it  an  application 
to  anatomy  of  the  method  of  analoc/y,  that  is,  induction  of  relations.  And 
hence,  no  doubt,  the  title  adopted  quaintly  by  the  great  discoverer,  with  his 
habitually  profound,  but  tortuous  or  unsystematical  sairacity.  Despite  these 
blemishes  upon  the  frontispiece  of  the  great  project  of  the  son,  I  commend  the 
body  of  his  structure,  and  its  various  contents,  to  your  men  of  science. 

Not  to  forcret  a  much  more  numerous  and  worthy  portion  of  your  readers, 
I  must  announce  to  them  a  new  volume,  of  which  the  title  runs  as  follows: — 
Missions  fie  Chine.  ^leinoire  sur  Veldt  aciiiel  dc  la  ^fission  du  Kianrj-Xau. 
Par  le  11.  F.  Brouili.on  de  la  Compagnic  de  Jesus.     Paris :  1855. 

The  most  generally  interesting  portion  of  the  volume,  and  vrhich  occupies 
about  one-half  of  its  five  hundred  pages,  is  found  in  the  Letters,  which  were 
written  on  the  spot,  from  time  to  time,  throughout  the  progress  of  the  revolution 
which  they  describe.  There  is,  besides,  an  introduction  that  treats  the  subject 
systematically.  The  account  of  Father  Brouillon  seems,  however,  worthy  of  his 
name.  Take,  for  example,  the  following  resume  of  the  disquisition : — "  The 
Chinese  insurrection  is  a  product  of  the  country;  all  sorts  of  sulFerings  and  of 
resentments  have  been  preparing  it ;  the  secret  societies  of  Asia  have  fo- 
mented it,  and  those  of  P^urope  are  not  without  hand  in  its  existence.  A 
thousand  passions,  a  thousand  interests,  urge  onward  the  movement.  The  dis- 
contented and  the  oppressed  invoke  it  more  or  less  loudly;  the  people  wish  it 
with  its  advantages,  but  without  its  disasters ;  foreigners  await  it ;  some  of 
them  second  It,  the  devil  would  direct  it,  but  God  conducts  It."  And  of 
course  Into  the  net  of  the  Jesuits  !  It  is  probably  this  destination,  depend- 
ing mainly  on  his  faith,  but  in  patent  contlict  with  the  facts  which  are  pre- 
sented In  his  Letters,  that  produces  this  flat  jumble  in  the  explanation  of  the 
father.  Indeed,  he  owns  exprcs.dy  that  the  tendency  of  the  Chinese  prophet 
is  rather  to  follow  Mohammed  than  Christ ;  but  he  no  less  expects  that  Go<l 
will  bring  the  issue  to  his  own  account,  which  is  to  say,  to  that  of  Catholicity. 

Accordingly,  the  father  and  his  brethren  have  their  net  spread  in  the  shape 
ofa  mission  at  Nankin.  The  Catholics  have  in  the  city  of  Nankin  and  its 
proWncc  over  seventy-two  thousand  neophytes  and  catechumens.  "With  this 
nucleus  they  would  not  dread  the  competition  of  their  Protestant  rivals,  if 
'■'oulji  the  French  governmcid  v:oidd gicc  (Item  S'nnedAngof  the  support  which  tlu> 
official  agents  of  America  and  England  give  their  missionaries."  You  may 
think  the  foreigners  alluded  to.  In  the  passage  cited,  mean  the  Protestants. 
But  no;  the  queer  allusion  is  to  Garibaldi  cind  his  Italian  radiciils.  Tlic  Jesuit 
naturally  sees  the  red  hand  of  those  mortal  enemies  of  the  Pope  emerging  in 
the  remote  regions  and  domestic  broils  of  the  Celestial  Empire.  O. 


152  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 


abt.  \iii.— short  rp:views  and  ^'otices  of  books. 

It  is  of  greatest  couconiment  in  the  Church  and  Commonwealth  to  have  a  vigilant 
eye  how  books  demean  themselves  as  ^ve^  as  men,  and  thercnl'ter  to  confine, 
imprison,  and  do  sharpest  justice  on  them  as  malefactors  ;  for  books  are  not  abso- 
lutely dead  things,  but  do  contain  a  putcney  of  life  in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that 
soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are. — ^Lltox. 

(1.)  "■Rociner's  Puhjijlot  Readers,  English,  French,  and  Gcmnan"  (Xew- 
York:  D.  Applctoii  &  Co.,  1855;  3  vols.  r2mo.,)  contain  copious  reading 
Ics.^ons  In  the  tbroe  langiinges  named,  and  are  designed  at  once  to  facilitate 
the  process  of  acquiring  them  and  to  make  that  acquisition  solid.  The  method 
recommended  h\  the  author  is  that  of  double  translation,  in  which  the  learner 
first  turns  the  foreign  language  into  the  vcrnacidar,  and  then  retranslates  it 
after  some  time  has  elapsed-  Professor  Rocmer  has  prefixed  to  one  of  the 
volumes  an  essay  on  "  The  Study  of  Languages,"  which,  bating  its  undue  length, 
is  every  Avay  admirable.  The  books  furnish  excellent  means  of  using  the 
most  excellent  method  of  studying  Frcnrh  and  German,  and  v.e  cordially 
coumiend  them  to  all  teachers  and  students  of  these  laugiuiges.  They  are 
especially  adapted  for  self-instruction. 


(2.)  ^'Letters  to  th:  People  on  Ikal!li  ond  nap]>'mcss,  by  Catharixe  E. 
EEECnr:R."  (New-York:  Harper  &  Erothers;  18mo.,  pp.  2'23.)  There  is  no 
earthly  subject  on  which  the  American  people  more  need  "line  upon  line  and 
precept  upon  pnccpt"  than  upon  the  hiws  (if  hcaltli.  As  Miss  Beecher 
remarks  in  the  ilrst  letter  of  the  adnurablc  s.-ries  which  make  up  this  volume, 
"  our  people  are  pursuing  a  coui>o,  in  their  own  habits  and  practices,  which  is 
destroying  health  and  happiness  to  an  extent  that  is  perfectly  appalling."  Nor 
is  it  less  true  that  "the  majority  of  parents  in  this  nation  are  systematically 
educating  the  rising  generation  to  be  feble,  defirmed,  sickly,  and  miserable: 
as  much  so  as  if  it  were  their  express  aim  to  commit  so  monstrous  a  folly." 
The  existence  of  th.e  evil  is  plain  and  undeniable;  to  remedy  it  is  not  so  easy. 
If  this  little  volume  could  only  be  read  by  every  parent  in  the  land,  the 
chances  of  the  next  generation  wduM  be  L:i'e;>tiy  ini['n.ved.  It  treats,  first,  of 
the  human  organs;  secondly,  of  the  laws  of  health;  thirdly,  of  abuses  of  the 
organs;  fourthly,  of  the  evils  resulting  from  such  abuses;  and  fifthly,  of  the 
remedies  for  these  evils.  All  these  heads  are  treatc<l  with  discrimination,  and 
yet  with  great  force  and  clearness.  "\Ve  recommend  the  volume  without  qual- 
ification. 

C^.)  We  have  received  a  copy  of  Dr.  Armitagc's  "■F'ln'rrd  S/.nnon  on  (he 
l>  it/i  ,.f  th..  11.,..  S.  II.  Conk,  D.  D.,"whieh  has  been  priulod  at  tlie  request 
"f  the  V>fcroavt'd  Church.  It  gives  a  brief  but  clear  sketh  of  Dr.  Cone's  life, 
«'>(!  bears  ample  tostimony  to  the  many  noble  (pialities  that  adorned  the  char- 
a.  t«T  of  ih.tt  eminent  servant  of  Od. 


1S5G.]  Short  Rcvieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.  153 

(4.)  "Learning  to  Talk;  or,  Ejiterlauiing  and  Instructive  Lessons  in  the 
I'se  of  Language,  by  Jacob  Auuott."  (New-York:  Harper  &  Brothers, 
18J5.)  This  admirable  little  book  contains  a  series  of  pictures  intended  for 
very  young  children,  with  descriptions  accompanying  them.  Its  greatest 
advantage  will  he  found  to  lie  in  the  power  of  observation  which  the  continued 
u<e  of  the  book  cannot  fail  to  give  a  child. 


(5.)  RoBKRT  CARTEii  &  BROTHERS  havB  published  a  new  edition  of 
"  The  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the  Church,  containing  the  Historg  and  Suffer- 
ings of  the  Martgrs,  by  John  Foxe."  (New-York,  1855;  royal  8vo., 
pp.  10S2.)  No  book  in  the  English  language  has  done  more  to  keep  alive  the 
memory,  and  to  maintain  the  principles  of  the  Eeformation,  than  "  Foxe's  Book 
of  Martyrs."  It  should  be  a  household  book  in  every  Protestant  family^  and 
tlic  Messrs.  Carter  have  contributed  their  share  to  make  it  such  by  the  opportune 
issue  of  this  new  and  improved  edition.  "While  It  omits  a  number  of  unira- 
porLmt  documents  and  narrations  that  encumbered  former  editions,  it  gives,  in 
an  appendix,  accounts  of  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  of  the  Spanish 
Armada,  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  and  of  the  Ivhh  rebellion  of  1745,  all  written 
by  authors  contemporaneous,  or  netU"ly  so,  with  the  events.  The  entire  work 
has  jiassod  under  the  careful  editorial  supervision  of  the  Rev.  M.  Ilobart  Sey- 
mour, whose  "  Evenings  with  the  Romanists,"  and  other  works,  have  made 
him  so  jK)pular  with  the  Protestant  public  of  England  and  America. 


(C.)  ".1/ex/co  and  her  lieligion,  by  R.  A.  Wilson."  (New-l^ork:  Harper  & 
Brothers;  12mo.,  pp.  40G.)  A  littlp  more  system  would  have  added  greatly 
to  tlie  value  of  this  book.  It  contains  a  graphic  narration  of  the  author's 
travels  In  ^Mexico,  a  large  amount  of  historical  Information,  and  much  critical 
detail ;  but  they  are  all  thrown  together  without  art  or  skill.  In  spite  of  these 
defects,  the  book  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  our  knowledge  of  Mexico.  The 
author  Is  shrewd  and  clear-headed,  and,  while  he  sees  well,  knows  how  to 
describe  Avhat  he  sees  in  vigorous  language. 


(7.)  "  Scenes  in  the  Practice  of  a  Xciu- York  Surgeon,  hjE.  H.  DixoN,M.D." 
(New- York:  Dewitt  &  Davenport,  1S55;  12mo.,  pp.  407.)  This  volume  is 
made  up  of  extracts  from  the  '•  Scalpel," — a  journal  designed,  we  believe,  to 
convoy  medical  knowledge  to  the  people  in  a  popular  and  attractive  form.  It 
contains  many  striking  narratives,  and  gives  at  the  same  time  a  good  deal  of 
information. 


(1)  RonKiiT  Carter  &  r.iiOTiii:r.s  have  published  a  new  edition  (the 
fourth)  of"  The  ^Lethod  of  the  Divir.e  Govcrnrnent,  Physical  and  Moral, hy 
Jamks  M'Cosh,  LL.  D."  (New-York,  18.'..0  ;  8vo.,  pp.  547.)  This  work  has 
Wfn  so  often  and  so  fully  discussed  in  our  pages  that  it  is  only  necessarj-  for 

FouuTii  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 10 


154  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 

OS  now  to  mention  what  i?  peculiar  to  this  edition.  The  book  has  been  revised 
throughout ;  the  second  part  is  enlarged  by  a  fuller  epitome  of  the  author's 
views  on  the  forms  and  colours  of  plants;  and,  in  an  appendix,  Dr.  r^rCosh 
ventures  a  protest  against  certain  principles  set  forth  by  Sir  William  Hamilton 
and  by  Frofessor  Bledsoe,  in  the  pages  of  this  review  and  in  his  Theodicy. 
On  the  points  in  controversy  we  are  still  of  opinion  that  Dr.  M'Cosh's  views 
lack  profoundness  and  coherency :  he  writes  like  a  man  trying  to  hold  two 
contradictory  theories  at  one  and  the  same  time. 


(9.)  "  The  Sure  Anchor;  or,  the  Young  Chrhitian  Admonishfid,  Encouraged, 
and  Exhorted,  by  the  Rev.  H.  P.  Anuukws,''  (Boston:  J.  P.  Magee,  185j; 
12mo.,  pp.  21 C,)  is  one  of  the  very  best  of  the  many  books  of  its  class  that 
have  fallen  under  our  notice.  It  is  thoroughly  evangelical  in  principle;  clear 
in  statement ;  lucid,  lively,  and  often  elonucnt  in  style ;  and  at  once  apt  and 
ample  in  illustration.     We  trust  it  will  be  widely  circulated. 


(10.)  ''Bishop  Butler's  Ethical  Dhcou}-.''".-,  edited  by  the  Rev.  J.  C.  Pass- 
more,  A.M."  (Philadelphia:  C.  Desilver:  J  2mo.,  pp.  375.)  It  was  the 
opinion  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh  that  the  truths  contained  in  these  sermons 
are  '•  more  worthy  of  the  name  of  discorenj  than  any  other  with  which  we  are 
acquainted,  if  we  ought  not,  with  some  hesitation,  to  except  the  first  steps  of 
tJie  Grecian  philosophers  toward  a  theory  of  morals."  The  difficultv  of  Buder's 
style,  which  is,  perhaps,  greater  in  these  ethical  discourses  than  in  the  '•  Anal- 
ogy," has  generally  prevented  their  use  as  a  college  text-book ;  but  the  helps 
presented  in  Professor  Passmore's  excellent  edition  go  far  to  do  awav  with 
this  objection.  He  has  prefixed  to  the  text  an  excellent  Life  of  Butler,  and 
also  Whowell's  Syllabus  of  Butler's  Sermons.  In  an  appendix  he  reprints 
the  Remains  of  Buder,  which  were  first  published  in  London  in  1853,  from 
MSS.  in  the  library  of  the  British  Museum.  The  work  is  executed  thiou^-h- 
out  in  a  careful  and  scholarly  manner. 


(11.)  "  Talcx  from  English  lliitorg  "  (Xe w-York  :  R.  Carter  &  Brothers,  1 855  ; 
12mo.,  pp.  344)  will  aflford  an  excellent  substitute  for  story-books  to  be  put 
into  the  hands  of  young  persons.     It  is  excellent  both  in  style  and  sentiment 


(12.)  "  The  Southern  Cross  and  Southern  Crown,  by  :Miss  Tuckf.r,"  (Xew- 
York:  R  Carter  &  Brothers,  IS.Jo;  18mo.,  pp.  2G3,)  conUiins  a  clear  account 
of  the  missions  in  New-Zealand,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Church  ^Vli^sionary 
Society.  To  get  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  progress  uf  Cluistianity  in  these 
far-oQ'  isles,  one  must  add  to  the  present  work  Miss  PVmci-'s  "  Tonga  and  the 
FrK-ndly  Lsles,"  LouTy's  '•  Missions  in  Tonga  and  Feejec,"  and  Mr.  Young's 
"  Southern  World." 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  155 

(13.)  "  A  Gcograpliy  of  the  Chvf  Places  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  by  Charles 
A.  Goodrich,"  (New- York :  Carter  &  Brothers;  18mo.,  pp.  195,)  is  a  little 
manual  so  well  furnished  with  questions,  maps,  &o.,  as  to  be  admirably  adapted 
for  use  in  parental,  Sabbath  school,  and  Bible-class  instruction.  Being  alpha- 
betically arranged,  it  will  also  be  of  use  as  a  Bible  dictionary  for  children. 


(14.)  TiiK  General  Conference  of  1802  ordered  the  Book- Agents  at  New- 
York  to  publish  the  '^Journals  of  the  General  Conferences,"  from  the  organi- 
zation of  the  Church  up  to  ISoC  inclusive.  The  order  is  now  obeyed  in  the 
publication  of  a  handsome  octavo,  containing  all  the  extant  Journals,  with  an 
index.     (Carlton  &  Phillips;  pp.  504.)     In  the  preface  the  editor  remarks : — 

"Up  to  the  year  1792  the  Church  business  had  been  conducted  in  tlie  aimual 
conferences,  the  minutes  of  which  are  printed  in  the  bound  minutes,  (so  called,) 
always  kept  on  sale  at  200  Mulberry-street.  The  Christmas  Conference  of  17S4, 
at  which  the  Church  was  fully  organized,  may  indeed  be  considered  as  a  General 
Conference;  but  I  can  find  no  minutes  of  its  session  except  those  printed  in  the 
ect  above  mentioned  (vol.  1,  page  21)  as  part  of  the  'Minutes  of  the  Annual 
Conference  for  17S.5.'  A  full  account  of  the  doings  of  the  conference,  with  the 
Hiscipline  ordained  by  it,  may  be  found  in  B.ings's  '  History  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,'  (vol.  1.  pp.  I.")l-21S.) 

"The  Minutes  of  the  General  Conference  for  1792  were  never  printed,  to  my 
knowledge,  nor  can  I  find  the  original  copy.  Those  of  179G  were  published  in  a 
compendious  form,  which  is  now  reprinted." 

In  connexion  with  this,  the  agents  have  reprinted,  as  a  second  volume,  the 
"Journals  and  Debates  of  the  General  Conferences  from  1840  to  1844" 
inclusive;  but  either  volume  can  be  had  separately. 


(15.)  "  The  Progress  of  Religious  Ideas  through  Successive  Ages,  by  L.  ]\Iakia 
Child."  (New-York:  C.  S.  Francis  &  Co.,  1855;  3  vols.  12mo.)  To  write 
such  a  book  as  this  title  would  indicate  should  be  the  last  result,  the  crown- 
ing opus  of  vast  and  various  learning.  Yet  !Mrs.  Child  tells  us,  in  her 
preface,  with  admirable  naivete,  that  "  a  learned  person  could  have  performed 
the  task  far  better  in  many  respects,"  but  that,  on  some  accounts,  she  has 
found  her  "  want  of  learning  an  advantage  !"  In  the  same  strain  .she  goes  ort  : 
"  Thoughts  do  not  range  so  freely  v/hcn  the  store-room  of  the  brain  is  over- 
loaded with  furniture.  In  the  course  of  my  investigations,  I  have  frequently 
observed  that  a  great  amount  of  erudition  becomes  a  veil  of  thick  cloud  between 
the  subject  and  the  reader,  ^loreover,  learned  men  can  rarely  have  such 
freedom  from  any  sectarian  bias  as  the  circumstances  of  ray  life  have  pro<luced 
in  me."  This  is  something  like  Sydney  Smith's  advice  to  reviewers,  not  to 
Tcad  books  before  reviewing  them, — "  it  prejudices  one  so."  "With  su<'h  notions 
of  the  proper  prerequisites  for  her  task,  ]Mrs.  Child  undertiikcs  to  devcloi»  the 
progress  of  religious  ideas  in  Iliudoostan,  Egypt,  China,  Chaldca,  Persia, 
Greece,  Rome,  India,  and  Christendom  !  The  whole  work,  on  which  the 
writer  has  been  labouring,  more  or  less,  for  eight  years,  u  one  of  the  most 
marvellous  instances  of  toil  misspent  and  talent  misapplied  that  the  history  of 
literature  aflbrds. 


156  Sho}-t  Rcvieics  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 

(16.)  ".4  Voice  from  the  Pious  Dead  of  the  Medical  Profession,  by  Henry 
J.  BnowN,  M.  D."  (Phlladclpbla,  1855  ;  12iuo.,  pp.  320.)  Tl.is  volume  eon- 
tains  a  scries  of  biographical  sketches  of  physicians  who  have  been  eminent  as 
well  for  religious  life  as  for  professional  skill.  It  contains  also  a  preliminary 
dissertation  on  Christianity,  which  is  striking,  not  only  from  its  form  but  from 
its  matter.  The  author's  aim  is  to  refute  the  charge,  so  ot\en  made,  that 
science  and  Christianity  are  incompatible,  and  to  recommend  practical  religion 
to  medical  men  by  illustrations  of  its  value  in  the  lives  of  some  of  the  most 
eminent  of  their  profession.  The  book  is  very  well  prepared  in  all  respects 
and  deserves  to  be  widely  circulated. 


yl7.)  "The  Iroquois:  or,  the  Bright  Side  of  Indian  Character,  by  Minme 
Myrtle."  (New- York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1855;  12mo.,  pp.  317.)  It  is 
very  true,  as  the  author  remarks  In  her  preface,  that  our  books  of  history  are 
very  "  deficient  in  what  they  relate  of  the  Indians,  and  most  of  them  are  still 
filling  the  minds  of  children  and  youth  with  very  false  Ideas."  To  give  a  fair 
and  just  account  of  the  habits,  manners,  and  history  of  the  Iroquois  is  the 
object  of  the  present  attractive  volume,  which  conveys  a  large  amount  of  infor- 
mation in  a  most  agreeable  and  interesting  form.  The  biographies  of  Indian 
braves  and  wise  men  which  are  here  given  surpass  in  interest  the  romances  of 
Indian  life,  which  generally  e.xaggerate  all  that  is  good  and  all  that  is  bad  in 
the  Indian  character. 

(18.)  ''Panama  in  1855,  by  Robeut  Tomes,"  (New-York:  Harper  & 
Brothers,  1855  ;  12mo.,  pp.  2-46,)  is  a  very  graphic  account  of  a  trip  acioss 
the  Isthmus,  made  at  the  expense  of  the  Panama  Ivailway  Company  on  the 
opening  of  their  road  from  ocean  to  ocean  In  February,  1855.  Besides  giving 
much  valuable  information  about  the  railway,  and  the  country  through  which 
it  passes,  the  book  is  full  of  graphic,  personal  narrative,  and  its  interest  never 
fla"s.     Its  moral  tone,  however,  is  anything  but  commendable. 

(19.)  ''Evening^  with  the  Rowanists,  by  the  Ilev.  M.  Hor..\RT  Seymour, 
M.  A."  (New- York:  It.  Carter  &  Brothers,  1855;  12mo.,  pp.  479.)  There 
are  manv  worthless  books  upon  the  Boman  controversy  put  out,  but  this  does 
not  belong  to  the  class.  It  takes  uj)  all  the  main  points  in  dispute  between 
Romanists  and  Protestants— such  as  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  the  unity 
of  the  Church,  confession  and  absolution,  the  mass,  the  papal  supremacy,  &c., 
and  treats  them,  by  direct  appeal  to  Scripture  and  reason,  with  a  calmness  of 
discussion  and  a  fairness  of  argument  that  hardly  even  Romanists  could  find 
fault  with.  As  a  manual  of  the  controversy,  for  ordinary  readers,  the  book  is 
invaluable. 

There  is  a  curious  history  connected  with  the  reprinting  of  this  lxx)k,as  we 
learn  by  a  slip  from  the  •■  Protestant  Churchman."  An  edition  of  the  work 
was  issued  some  months  ago  by  ^Ir.  II.  Hooker,  of  Philadelphia : — 

"  The  title-paee  professes  to  be  a  complete  republication  of  the  crip'inal  English 
book,  omitting  simply  the  mention  of  the  iutroJuetory  chapter,  which  we  afterward 


185G.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  157 

find  has  been  left  out.  As  'Seymour's  Evenings  with  the  Romanists,  republished  by 
H.  Hooker,'  we  received  the  work,  supposing  we  were  to  read  the  book  thus  described. 
We  found  it,  in  itself,  most  suspicious,  extremely  meagre  in  its  doctrine,  and  unsound 
in  its  conclusions  ;  surprising  characteristics  as  coming  from  a  man  whom  we 
knew  to  bo  so  thoroughly  Protestant  and  evangelical  as  a  minister  of  the  Church 
of  England.  •  The  advertisement '  prefixed  to  this  American  edition  announced 
that  the  '  introductory  chapter,  which  was  of  a  general  nature,  and  parts  of 
other  chapters,  in  the  London  edition,  which  seemed  to  be  redundant,  or  least 
adapted  to  be  u.'^fful  here,  have  been  omitted;  while  the  author  is  left  every- 
where to  speak  in  his  own  words  without  addition  or  alteration.'  We  should 
have  supposed,  of  course,  that  suoh  a  notice  was  true  and  full.  lUit  \ve  were 
subsequently  induced  to  compare  this  edition  with  the  English  one,  and  our 
astonishment  at  the  unfaithfulness  of  the  republication  was  extreme.  We  found 
more  than  one-third  of  the  book  thrown  out.  Two  whole  chapters,  besides  the  intro- 
ductory, rejected  with  no  notice  of  the  fact.  Many  pages  together,  in  repeated 
places,  cut  out,  and  the  extremes  bounding  them  brought  together  and  joined, 
as  if  immediately  consequent  and  connected.  Sometimes  even  a  serttence  thus 
divided,  and  two  separate  parts  of  separate  sentences,  brought  together  as  if 
originally  one.  But  even  this  is  not  the  whole  difficulty,  nor  the  half  of  it.  The 
passages  omitted  are  habitually  the  faithful  testimony  of  the  author's  Protestant  and 
Scriptural  doctrine,  and  the  very  best  and  most  useful  parts  of  the  book;  while 
such  connexions  are  sometimes  made  of  passages  as  make  him  to  teach  the  very 
opposite  to  what  he  intended  to  teach.  And  yet  the  advertisement  says, 'i/jc 
author  is  left  everyuhere  to  speak  in  his  ou-7i  u-ords,  without  alteration  or  addition.' 
Who  has  been  the  agent  of  thus  dishonestly  garbling  this  valuable  book  v.'e  do 
not  pretend  to  know.  The  publisher's  name  is  the  only  one  connected  with  it, 
and,  thougli  we  do  not  charge  him  personally  with  the  unjust  omissions  of  which 
we  speak,  he  must  bear  the  whole  responsibility.  We  warn  our  readers  against 
buying  this  book  as  '  Seymour's  Evenings  with  the  llomanists,'  which  it  is  not. 
If  the  publisher  had  hired  a  Romish  priest  to  expurgate  the  work,  he  could 
hai-dly  have  done  it  mure  eflectually  for  the  Papists'  purpo'^cs.  .Vnd  we  are  sure 
the  excellent  author  would  remonstrate  with  a  just  indignation  against  such  an 
outrageous  perversion  of  his  work,  if  he  should  ever  find  a  copy  of  it  before  him." 

We  need  hardly  add  that  ^Messrs.  Carter's  edition  is  an  exact  reprint  of  the 
Endish  text. 


(20.)  "  Memoir  of  S.  S.  Prentiss,  edited  by  his  Brother."  (New-York  :  C 
Scribner,  1855;  2  vols.  12mo.)  The  subject  of  this  memoir  is  well  remem- 
bered as  one  of  the  most  brilliant  political  speakers  this  country  has  produced. 
These  volumes  reveal  his  family  life,  in  which  he  appears  as  a  kind  and  affec- 
tionate son,  brother,  husband,  and  father.  Pity  that  these  "  natural  virtues" 
had  iiover  been  sanctified  by  personal  religion.  One  cannot  read  without  sad- 
ness this  sketch  of  a  career  so  brief,  yet  so  brilliant :  so  splendid,  yet  so  full  of 
disappointments.  The  interest  of  the  work  is  very  great:  it  would  have  been 
greater  if  the  two  volumes  Lad  been  condensed,  as  they  might  easily  have 
been,  into  one. 


(21.)  "  Inlrodui'lion  to  Biblical  Chronology  from  Adam  to  the  Resurrection  of 
Christ,  hy  Pktkr  Akkrs,  D.  D."  (Cincinnati:  :Metho<list  Book  Concern, 
1S,'<5;  8vo.,  pp.  411.)  Of  this  elaborate  work  no  one  is  competent  to  speak 
critically  who  has  not  carefully  and  thoroughly  studied  it.  At  present  we  can 
only  express  our  gratification  to  find  among  our  ministry  one  capable  and 
■willing  to  go  through  the  long-continued  labour  of  preparing  such  a  book. 
A  careful  review,  by  a  competent  writer,  is  in  preparation  for  our  pages. 


158  Short  Revietvs  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 

(22.)  <'  The  Chrbt  of  Ilhtory,  by  John  Yo uxg,  ]M.  A."  (New-York :  E.  Car- 
ter &  Brothers,  1855;  12mo.,  pp.  260.)  The  argument  of  this  work,  at  least 
in  an  extended  form,  is  novel.  Taking  as  a  basis  the  simple  fact  of  Christ's 
humanity,  the  author  undertakes  to  demonstrate  from  it  his  divinity  ;  or,  as  he 
expresses  it  in  his  prtfi^ce,  "  dismissing  all  preconceptions,  assuming  nothing 
which  is  not  virtually  and  even  formally  admitted  by  enemies  as  -well  as  friends," 
he  hopes  to  show  that  the  manhood  of  Christ,  as  it  appealed  to  the  senses  and 
to  the  minds  of  the  men  of  his  own  times,  "supplies  and  sustains  the  proof  of 
his  Godhead."  He  does  not  assume  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  but  only 
takes  for  granted,  in  a  broad  and  general  sense,  that  they  are  historical  and 
veritable — a  point  which  is,  in  fact,  granted  even  by  infidels.  The  argument 
may  be  simply  stated  in  one  sentence,  namely,  that  such  a  human  life  as  that 
of  Jesus  Christ  is  utterly  inexplicable,  except  on  the  ground  of  his  Divinity. 
The  w^ork  is  divided  into  three  parts,  of  which  the  first  treats  of  The  Outer 
Conditions  of  the  Life  of  Chriat,  namely,  his  social  position,  the  shortness  of  his 
earthly  course,  and  the  age  and  place  in  which  he  appeared.  Book  second 
treats  of  The  WorJ:  of  Christ  among  Men,  unfolding  his  ministry  and  his  doc- 
ti-inc,  both  as  to  its  matter  and  form.  The  third  book  treats  of  The  Spiritual 
Individuality  of  Ciirid,  his  oneness  with  God,  his  moral  perfection,  both  in  mo- 
tive and  in  feeling,  &:c.  This  outline  willsufilce  to  show  that  the  author  really 
comprehends  the  scope  of  his  present  theme,  and  grasps  it  with  a  master's  hand 
Ills  learning  is  well  up  to  his  undertaking,  and  his  logic  matches  his  learning. 
The  work  will  certainly  make  its  mark  upon  the  times. 


(2.'^.)  "  2'he  Christian  Life,  Social  and  Individual,  by  Peteii  Bayne,  A.  M  " 
(Boston:  Gould  &  Lincoln,  1855;  12mo.)  This  is  another  very  noticeable 
book,  both  from  its  aims  and  its  execution.  The  first  part  is  a  statement  of 
what  the  Christian  life  is,  or  ought  to  be,  both  individually  and  socially;  and 
part  second  is  an  exposition  of  this  statement,  and  an  illustration  of  it  in  actual 
biographies.  In  the  first  place  Christianity  is  set  forth  as  the  basis  of  social 
life :  and,  as  illustrations,  we  have  three  biographical  sketches,  namely,  How- 
ard, and  the  rise  of  philanthropy ;  AVilberforce,  and  the  development  of  phi- 
lanthropy; and  Budgctt,  the  Christian  Freeman.  In  the  second  place  our 
author  sets  forth  Christianity  as  the  hnsis  of  individual  character:  and  for 
illustration,  lie  gives  us  sketches  of  John  Foster,  Thomas  Arnold,  and  Dr. 
Chalmers.  Part  III  treats  briefly  of  the  "  Positive  Philosoi)hy  "  and  of  "  Pan- 
theistic Spiritualism."  Mr.  Baync  conducts  his  argument  very  skilfully;  and 
some  of  his  biographical  sketches  arc  masterpieces  of  condensed  and  vigorous 
narrative.  For  young  persons  of  a  skeptical  turn — especially  such  as  are  car- 
ried away  by  Thomas  Carlylc — this  book  will  be  a  valuable  medicine ;  and  it 
is  60  well  prepared  that  the  medicine  wilt  be  by  no  means  "  hard  to  take." 


(24.)  "  The  Parabolic  Teachinf/s  of  Christ,  by  the  lieu.  D.  K.  DuUMMOXD." 
(New- York:  Robert  Carter  &  Brothers,  1855;  12mo.,  pp.  140.)  In  the 
Introduction  Mr.  Drunnnond  defines  the  "  parable,"  and,  at  the  same  time, 
includes  the  "  allegory  "  and  the  "  proverb  "  of  the  New  Testament  under  the 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  159 

one  head  of"  parabolic  teaching."  lie  thus  introduces  the  "  Good  Shepherd," 
the  "True  Vine,"  «ie.,  which  are  generally  excluded  from  expositions  of  the 
parables.  His  principle  of  interpretation  aims  at  avoiding  the  extreme  of  find- 
ing too  much  in  the  parable,  on  the  one  hand,  and  too  little  on  the  other. 
Another  peculiarity  of  the  ^vo^k  is,  the  cLiPsification  adopted  by  the  author, 
with  a  view  to  throw  light  upon  the  individual  parables  by  regarding  them  as 
parts  of  a  system.  This  attempt,  which  wc  consider  laudable  in  Itself,  though 
some  of  the  best  expositors  pronounce  It  vain,  has  often  been  made  before,  and 
we  tlilnk,  in  some  cases,  more  successfully  than  by  ]Mr.  Drunnuond.  His 
divisions  are — I.  Man  in  Satan's  Kingdom;  11.  The  Prince  of  the  Kingdom 
of  Light;  in.  Christ's  Work  in  its  Personal  Character;  IV.  Christ's  Work 
in  its  Historical  and  Prophetical  Character ;  V.  The  Second  Coming  of  Christ 
As  a  whole,  the  work  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  our  expository  literature. 


(25.)  "  Wail-na ;  or,  Adventures  on  the  Mosquito  Shore,  by  Samuel  A. 
Baud,"  (New-York :  Harper  &  Brothers;  12mo.,  pp.  3GG,)  is  certainly  very 
pleasant  reading,  but  whether  fact  or  fiction  most  abounds  in  its  pages  it  is 
hard  to  tell.  Its  detail  of  personal  adventure  reads  like  a  romance ;  its  descrip- 
tions of  the  INIosquito  coimtr>-  and  people  have  the  air  of  truth.  At  all  events, 
the  author  has  succeeded  in  making  an  exceedingly  attractive  book  out  of 
Tcry  unpromising  materials. 


(26.)  "  The  Contrast  between  Good  and  Bad  Men  ilhunratcd  by  the  Biography 
and  Truths  of  the  Bible,  by  GARi>iXKii  Spring.  D.  D."  (New-York:  M.  W. 
Dodd,  1855  ;  2  vols.,  12mo.)  The  title  of  this  book  hardly  conveys  a  true  idea 
of  its  nature.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  series  of  practical  lectures  and  sermons,  chiefly 
founded  on  the  characters  of  Scriisture ;  and,  as  such,  it  is  a  good  and  useful 
book.  Dr.  Spring's  writings  are  not  remarkable  for  force  or  originality  of 
thought ;  but  they  are  generally  clear,  sensible,  and  sugj^estive. 


(27.)  We  have  seldom  seen  a  religious  novel,  so  called,  that  wc  could  recom- 
mend so  freely  as  "  Nellie  of  Truro."  (New- York :  II.  Carter  &  Brothers ; 
12mo.,  pp.  432.)  It  is  a  great  advance,  in  every  respect,  upon  "Vara,"  by 
the  same  author,  published  some  months  since.  The  narrative  is  simple 
throughout;  the  incidents  arc  natural  and  avcII  grouped;  "the  dialogue  is  some- 
times spun  out  to  a  wearisome  extent,  but  is  otherwise  suOiciendy  dramatic ; 
and  the  moral  tone  is  not  oidy  unexce]'t!onablc  but  praiseworthy.  The  whole 
impression  left  by  the  book  is  that  a  simple  and  child-like  faith  in  Christ  is  the 
best  of  all  preparations,  not  merely  for  the  next  world,  but  for  this. 


(28.)  When  Sir  David  Wilkle  was  setting  out  on  his  journey  to  the  East,  a 
friend  a^ked  him  if  he  had  any  guide-book  ?  He  replied,  '•  Yes,  and  the  very 
best/'  pulling  out  his  pocket  Bible.  So  also,  on  the  other  band,  he  wrote  back 
from  the  East,  that  "to  the  jjainter  of  sacred  history,  this  whole  territory  sup- 
plies what  can  be  learned  nowhere  else."  These  thoughts  are  well  worked 
out  in  "  Bible  Light  from  Bible  Lands,  by  the  Rev.  JosEi'U  Andekson."   (New- 


160  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 

York:  R.  Carter  and  Brothers,  1856;  12mo.,  pp.  314.)  Mr.  Anderson  has 
travelled  through  the  lands  of  the  Bible,  and  has  given  us  the  results  of  his 
observations  in  this  volume,  not  in  the  shape  of  a  diary,  or  of  a  book  of  travels 
simply,  as  so  many  have  done  belore  him,  but  in  a  form  vrhich  blends  the  at- 
tractions of  personal  narrative  witii  the  instruction  of  a  systematic  treatise. 
The  work  is  divided  into  throe  books,  of  which  the  first  is  entitled,  "  Predictions 
verified:"  and  under  this  head  Mr.  Anderson  compares  the  prophecies  con- 
cerning Egypt,  Arabia,  Idumea,  and  the  land  of  Israel,  Avith  the  present 
condition  of  those  countries  as  seen  by  his  own  eyes.  The  second  book  treats 
of  "  Desa-iptinns  illustrated,"  and  gives  apt  accounts  of  places,  customs,  usages, 
&c.,  now  existing,  as  illustrative  of  the  Bible  records.  The  third  book,  "  Allu- 
sions explained,"  sets  forth,  in  the  clear  light  of  existing  facts,  many  passages 
of  Scripture  which,  from  tln'ir  allusions  to  purely  Oriental  habits,  &c.,  are  ob- 
scure to  Western  readers.  Our  readers  may  see  from  this  outline  that  the  book 
is  a  remarkably  sensible  one ;  indeed,  we  know  no  better  "  companion  to  the 
Bible"  for  ordinary  readers,  so  far  as  mere  illustration  Is  concerned. 


(29.)  Quite  similar  in  its  aims  and  execution  to  the  book  just  named  is» 
"  Illustrations  of  Scriptrire,  siigr/'st'^d  by  a  Tour  through  the  Holy  Land,  by 
PitOFESSOi;  11.  B.  IIackeit."  (Boston:  Heath  &  Graves,  1855  ;  12mo.,  pp. 
340.)  As  the  author  states  in  his  preface,  the  work  does  not  claim  to  be  a 
book  of  travels,  and  would  be  misjudged  if  viewed  in  that  light.  The  object 
has  been,  not  to  present  a  connected  view  of  the  geography  of  Palestine,  or  to 
detail  at  any  length  the  personal  incidents  which  travellers  usually  make  so 
prominent  in  their  journals;  but  out  of  the  mass  of  observations  and  facts 
which  fell  under  the  writer's  notice,  to  select  those  which  seemed  to  be  capable  of 
being  used  with  some  advantage,  fur  the  purpose  of  promoting  a  more  earnest 
and  intelligent  study  of  the  sacred  volume.  Professor  Ilackett  has  carried 
out  his  purpose  admirably;  so,  while  his  work  has  the  substantial  merits  of  a 
scientific  description  of  the  Holy  Land,  it  has  the  charms  of  a  personal  narra- 
tive admirably  told.  The  following  specimen  alone  will  suflice  to  show  what 
varied  powers  and  acquisitions  the  author  brings  to  his  task: — 

"  Eastern  brooks  in  general  flow  with  water  duriao;  the  rainy  season  ;  but,  after 
that,  are  liable  to  be  soon  dried  up,  or.  if  they  contain  watci",  contain  it  only  for 
a  longer  or  shorter  time,  according  to  tlicir  situation  and  the  severity  of  the  heat 
of  particular  years.  Hence  the  traveller  in  (-(uest  of  water  must  often  be  disap- 
pointed when  he  comes  to  such  streams.  He  may  find  them  entirely  dry ;  or, 
he  may  find  the  water  gone  at  the  place  where  he  approaches  them,  though  it 
may  still  linger  in  other  places  which  elude  his  observation  ;  he  may  perceive, 
from  the  moisture  of  the  ground,  that  the  last  drops  have  just  disappeared,  and 
that  he  has  arrived  but  a  few  hours  too  late  for  the  attainment  of  his  object. 

"The  chances  of  obtaining  water  in  the  desert  are  equally  precarious.  The 
winter  torrents  there,  owing  to  the  rapi<lity  with  which  the  s'and  absorbs  them, 
are  still  more  transient.  The  spring  which  supplied  a  well  yesterday,  may  fiiil 
to-day ;  or  the  drifting  sand  may  choke  it  up  and  obliterate  every  trace  of  it." 
On  the  ninth  day  of  niyjourney  after  leaving  ('airo,  we  heard  of  a  well  at  some 
distance  from  the  regular  course,  and  as  the  animals  (except  the  camels)  needed 
to  be  watered,  we  turned  aside  to  visit  the  place.  "We  travelled  for  some  miles 
over  immense  sand-hoaps  and  under  a  burning  sun,  with  the  thermometer  at 
ninety  degrees  of  Fahrenheit.  It  was  our  lot  to'bc  disappointed.  We  found  the 
well,  indeed,  but  without  a  drop  of  water  in  it  that  could  be  reached  by  us.    The 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Boohs.  161 

wind  had  blown  the  sand  into  it,  and  buried  it  up  to  such  a  depth  that  all  hope 
of  relief  from  that  source  was  cut  off. 

"The  liability  of  a  person  in  the  East  to  be  deceived  in  his  expectation 
of  findinfr  water  is  the  subject  of  repeated  allusion  in  the  Scriptures.  In  Job  vi, 
15,  sq.,  it  furnishes  an  expressive  image  for  representing  the  fickleness  of  false- 
hearted friends : — 

"  '  My  brethren  have  dealt  deceitfully  like  a  brook, 
As  the  channel  of  brooks  which  pass  away  ; 
Which  are  turbid  by  reason  of  the  ice. 
In  which  is  hidden  ttie  molted  snow. 
As  soon  as  the  waters  flow  oft' they  are  ^'--aa; 
AVhcn  the  heat  comes,  they  vauisli  from  their  place. 
The  caravans  on  their  way  turn  aside  ; 
They  go  up  into  the  desert,  and  perish. 
The  caravans  of  Tema  search  anxiously, 
The  wayfarers  of  Shuba  look  to  them  with  hope. 
They  are  ashamed  because  tliey  trusted  in  them; 
They  come  to  them  and  are  confounded.' 

"  Our  English  version  of  the  above  passage  fails  to  bring  out  the  image  distinct- 
ly. The  foregoing  translation,  ■which  I  have  brought  nearer  to  the  original,  may 
be  made  clearer,  perhaps,  by  a  word  of  explanation.  The  idea  is,  that  in  the 
spring  the  streams  are  full ;  they  rush  along  swollen  from  the  effect  of  the  melt- 
ing snow  and  ice.  Suinn^cr  comes,  and  they  can  no  longer  be  trusted.  Those 
journeying  in  the  region  of  such  streams,  fainting  with  thirit,  travel  many  a 
■weary  step  out  of  the  way  in  quest  of  them,  in  the  hope  that  water  may  still"  be 
found  in  them.  They  arrive  at  the  place,  but  only  to  be  disappointed.  The 
deceitful  brook  has  fled.  They  were  in  the  last  extremity — it  was  their  last  hope, 
and  they  die."— P.  17. 

The  -work  is  filled  with  passages  of  similar  beauty  and  aptness. 


(.50.)  "  S<iUu.^t's  Jugurtha  and  Catiline,  with  Xoles  and  a  T'ocaiu/jry,  by  Xocle 
Butler  and  Mixard  Sturgus."  (New-York :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1S55; 
i2mo.,  pp.  307.)  In  this  edition  we  have  the  text  printed  in  clear  and  large 
type,  a  copious  and  carefully  prepared  vocabulary,  and  a  suftlcient  body  of 
notes.  The  vocabulary  was  prepared  by  the  late  W.  II.  G.  Butler,  who,  it 
■will  be  remembered,  fell  by  the  hand  of  Ward,  In  Louisville.  It  bears  the 
marks  of  a  faithful  and  scholarly  mind,  and  deserves  the  encomiums  of  tho 
editors  of  the  book,  namely,  "  that  few  school  vocabularies  so  thorough  and 
accurate  have  ever  been  published."  The  notes  are  mainly  grammatical  and 
illustrative,  not,  as  Is  too  often  the  case,  filled  out  with  needless  and  pedantic 
references,  or  v.Ith  ■worse  than  useless  translations  of  the  text.  "We  cordially 
commend  the  book  as  an  excellent  school  edition.  "\\"c  hope  that  In  the  next 
edition  the  vocabulary  ■will  be  placed  where  it  should  be,  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 

(31.)  Among  the  latest  issues  of^Mr.  Boirs's  "Libraries,"  we  have  "  7^« 
Works  of  PhUo-Judcr us,  translated  by  C.  D.  Yoxgk,B.  A."  (12mo.,  pp.  490.) 
This  volume  completes  the  work,  so  that  tlic  entire  works  of  Philo,  which  have 
heretofore  been  Inaccessible  to  the  English  reader,  are  now  put  within  the  reach 
of  very  narrow  purses.  We  find,  also,  the  second  volume  of  "  Plin'j's  Xatu- 
rat History"'  In  the  "  Classical  Library."  The  most  acceptable  book  to  meta- 
physical readers  in  all  the  scries  thus  far  published,  is  the  "  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason,  translated  from  the  German  o/Immanuf.l  Kant."  (12nio.,  pp.  517.) 
The  translation  is  by  ^Ir.  Mciklcjohn,  who  has  succeeded  far  better  than  ail 


162  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.         [January, 

who  have  preceded  him  in  attempting  to  introduce  Kant  to  English  readers. 
Whatever  dithcultvthc  reader  may  find  hero  will  be  due  to  the  abstrusenessof 
the  matter,  and  not,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  to  the  incapacity  of  the  translator. 

(32.)  OcR  Sunday-School  Union  has  been  very  prolific  in  its  Issues  of  late, 
and  the  quality  is  equal  to  the  (quantity.  The  "  Child's  Preacher"  (18mo., 
pp.  451)  contains  a  series  of  addresses  to  the  young,  founded  on  Scripture  texts, 
a  volume  which  'will  be  very  useful  in  showing  Iioir  the  young  ought  to  be 
preached  to.  "  Chililhood,  or  Little  Alice,"  (square  l'2mo.,)  is  a  very  pretty 
and  simple  story  for  cliildrcn,  well  written  and  beautifully  illustrated.  To  say 
that  "  Stories  for  Village  Lads  "  (ISmo.,  pp.  17G)  is  by  the  author  of  •'  Frank 
Harrison,"  will  be  enough  to  commend  It  to  young  readers.  '•  The  Contrast" 
(pp.  15G)  gives  an  account  of  two  young  men  who  were  convinced  of  sin  at 
the  same  time,  one  of  whom  denied  his  ^Master  and  died  without  hope,  -while 
the  other  became  a  faithful  minister  of  the  GospeL  "  7'he  Herbert  Family/" 
is  an  epistolatory  narrative,  contrasting  religion  with  infidehty  from  the  effects 
of  each.  All  our  readers  are  familiar  with  the  writings  of"  Old  Humphrey'' — 
a  name  dear  to  little  folks.  He  has  ceased  to  write,  and  we  now  have  a 
'''•  3Iemoir  of  Old  Hamjihrei/,  with  Glcanimjs  frovi  his  PortfrJin,  (ISmo.,  pp. 
29S.)  This  memoir  of  tlio.  excellent  Mr.  ZMogridge  will  be  acceptable  not  only  to 
the  children,  but  to  all  older  readers  who  value  Christian  devotion.  "  Blooming 
Hopes  and  Withered  Joys"  Is  a  collection  of  narratives  and  stories  by  the  Rev. 
J.  T.  Barr,  the  well-known  author  of  the  "  Merchant's  Daughter."  "  Four 
Days  in  July  "  is  a  sketch  of  a  pleasant  excursion  to  the  country,  by  one  of 
the  best  writers  employed  for  the  Sunday-School  Union.  Perhaps  the  best  of 
all  the  story-books  recently  Issued  is  "  Juhnny  ^^Kay ;  or,  the  Sovereign,"  the 
story  of  an  honest  boy :  wc  have  read  It  through  at  a  sitting.  The  fourth 
volume  of  the  '"  Early  Dead  "  contains  brief  memoirs  of  deceased  Sunday- 
school  children,  on  the  same  plan  as  thoic  givoi  In  the  previous  voliunes. 


(33.)  "^1  String  of  Pearls"  (New- York  :  Carlton  &  Phillips,  1855;  square 
12mo.)  contains  a  verse  of  Scripture  and  a  pious  reflection  for  every  day  in 
the  year.  Such  books,  when  well  prepared,  are  useful  to  Christians  of  all 
ages,  and  the  present  one  contains  selections  made  with  admirable  taste  and 
skill. 


(34.)  Mkssrs.  H.\rper  &  Brothkrs  propose  to  reprint  "  Bohn's  Classical 
Library"  entire,  and  to  t'urnish  it  at  even  lower  prices  than  the  London  edi- 
tion has  been  heretotbrc  sold.  We  have  already  received  "  Smart's  Transla- 
tion of  Horace,  rcrised  by  T.  A.  Buckli'.y,"  (TJma,  pp.  3-25,)  wliieh  is  too 
well  known  to  need  any  notice  at  our  hands,  except  the  expression  of  a  wish 
that  a  now  and  better  translation  had  been  prepared,  instead  of  this  reprint  of 
a  comparatively  bad  one.  The  no,xt  issue  is  "  Casar's  Commentaries  on  the 
Gallic  and  Civd  Wars,"  (r2mo.,  pp.  572,)  a  translation  of  far  higher  character 
than  the  preceding,  and  accompanied  by  notes  and  a  cai-eful  index.  "  Sallust, 
Florus,  and  Velleius  Patcrculus,  translated  by  the  Rev.  j;  S.  Watson,  M.  A." 
(12mo.,  pp.  538.)     The    translations  are,  in  the    main,  easy    and    reada- 


1656.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  163 

ble;  pains  have  been  taken  with  the  text,  and  a  careful  index  is  added. 
"  A'eno/)^o/»'*-  Anabasis  and  Memorabilia,"  hy  the  same  translator,  is  an  im- 
provement upon  the  previous  versions  of  Spelman  &  Fielding.  A  Geographi- 
cal Commentary  by  Mr.  Ainsworth,  author  of"  Travel  in  the  Track  of  the  Ten 
Thousand  Oreeks,"  is  added  to  the  book,  and  is  of  great  value  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  Anabasis.  ''  Daviihon's  Virgil"  (li'mo.,  pp.  404)  has  been  care- 
fully revised  for  this  edition,  by  ]\[r.  Buckley,  who  has  added  notes  for  tlie 
use  of  more  advanced  scholars.  One  of  the  most  acceptable  volumes  in  the 
scries  is  "  Cicero's  Offices,  Cato  Major,  Dxlius,  Paradoxes,  and  Scij.'iu'i 
Dream,  hy  C.  R.  Edwards."  (12mo.,  pp.  343.)  In  the  notes,  the  editor 
adduces,  very  copiously,  the  opinions  of  modern  moralisti,  to  aid  the  reader  in 
comparing  them  with  Cicero's.  The  enterprise  of  placing  these  versions  of 
the  great  classic  writers  within  the  reach  of  all  readers  of  English  at  such 
unprecedentedly  low  prices  is  a  very  laudable  one.  and  nothing  but  a  mo.>t 
extensive  sale  can  bear  the  publishers  out  in  it.  We  trust  that  their  largest 
expectations  will  be  realized. 


(35.)  We  are  glad  to  see  that  a  second  edition  of  '•  Selert  Popxdar  Orations 
of  Demosthenes,  with  A'otes  and  a  Chronological  Table,  by  J.  T.  CiiAMri.iN, 
Professor  In  Waterville  College,"  (Boston:  James  ^lunroe  &  Co.,  ISCi.j  ;  I'Jmo., 
pp.  237.)  has  been  published.  We  have  before  given  an  unquahfied  commen- 
dation of  this  work,  and  now  need  only  say  that  this  new  edition  has  been 
carefully  revised  by  the  accomplished  editor. 

(36.)  "  The  Priest,  the  Puritan,  and  the  Preacher,  by  the  Rev.  J.  C.  Ryle." 
(New- York  :  R.  Carter  &  Brothers;  18mo.,  pp.  3G0.)  The  "Priest"  h 
Bishop  Latimer  ;  the  'Puritan  "Is  Richard  Baxter;  and  the  "  Preacher  "  is 
George  "Whiteficld.  ]Mr.  Ryle's  delineations  of  these  eminent  men  arc  spirit- 
ed and  discriminating;  and  a  practical  aim  is,  as  usual  in  his  writings,  every- 
where predominant. 

(37.)  "  The  Escaped  Nun"  (New- York:  Dewitt  &  Davenport,  1855:  12rao., 
pp.  344)  is  a  fair  specimen  of  a  very  worthless  class  of  books. 


(38.)  <■' Neic  Church  Miscellanies:  or.  Essays  Ecclesiastical,  Doctrinal,  and 
Ethical,  hy  Geouge  Busu,"  (New- York :  W.  M'George,  1855;  12mo.,  pp. 
372.)  Dr.  Bush's  style  is  always  clear,  straightforward,  and  vigorous ;  and 
these  essays,  republished  from  the  "  New  Church  llopository,"  are  in  his  very  best 
manner.  There  are  fevv-  of  the  papers  that  have  Interest  except  tor  Sweden- 
borgians;  but  there  Is  one  on  "  Slavery  and  Abolition,"  abounding  in  practi- 
cal wisdom  and  charitv. 


(39.)  We  briefly  noticed  In  our  last  number  the  Essay  on  Theism,  by  Mr.  TuUoch, 
which  received  the  second  prize  In  the  Burmt  competition  at  Aberdeen.  "We 
have  now  received  thaf  rsi  prize  essay,  ^'.Christian  TheL<m:  the  Testimony  of 
Reason  and  Revelation  to  the  Existence  and  Character  of  the  Supreme  Bei^^g, 
by  Robert  Arnold  TiiOMrsox,  M.  A."     (New- York  :  Harper  &  Brothers, 


164  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.        [January, 

18.55;  12[iio.,  pp.  -477,)  Mr.  Thompson  seems  to  have  got  the  Burnet  prize 
almost  by  accident,  as  he  had  begun  his  preparations  for  the  volume  before  be 
hearrl  of  the  proposed  competition.  He  had  hardly  a  sufficient  stock  of  learn- 
ing for  so  great  a  task;  indeed,  he  states  in  his  preface  that  even  the  works  of 
Sir  "William  Hamilton  were  unknown  to  him  till  he  had  begun  to  write  ;  and 
that  his  acquaintance  with  Leibnitz,  Descartes,  and  Malebranche  was  at  that 
time  limited  to  second-hand  information.  As  a  writer,  he  lacks  the  freedom 
and  skill  which  nothing  but  long  practice  can  impart;  but,  with  all  these 
drawbacks,  he  has  made  a  book  of  great  value.  He  is  a  clear  and  profound 
thinker ;  he  sees  what  is  needed  as  a  book  for  the  times  ;  and,  instead  of  sim- 
ply reproducing  old  lines  of  argument,  he  sets  himself  to  find  the  limits  to 
which,  from  the  nature  of  the  human  mind,  the  argument  of  Theism  must 
necessarily  be  confined,  and  then  he  states  it  with  great  directness  and  force. 
Book  I  treats,  therefore,  of  the  first  principles  of  knowledge,  and  of  their 
misaf)plication  in  systems  of  Atheism  and  Pantheism ;  Book  H  exhibits  the 
direct  evidences  of  Natural  Theism ;  Book  HI  sets  forth  the  manifestation  of 
the  Divine  character  in  nature;  and  Book  IV  of  the  revelation  of  the  Divine 
character  in  Scripture.  There  is  also  a  valuable  appendix  on  the  doctrine  of 
causality.     The  work  should  be  found  in  every  theological  library. 


(40.)  Another  book  in  the  same  department  of  science  is,  "  God  Revealed 
in  the  Process  of  Creation,  and  h'j  the  Mani/estalion  of  Jesus  Christ,  by 
James  B.  Walker."  (Boston  :  Goald  &  Lincoln.)  The  former  work  of 
this  author,  "  The  Philosophy  of  the  Plan  of  Salvation,"  has  gained  a  world- 
wide celebrity  ;  nor  will  his  reputation  be  diminished  by  the  present  essay. 
It  embodies  a  thorough  exposure  of  the  fallacies  of  "  The  Vestiges  of  Creation," 
and  of  the  whole  system  of  thought  on  which  that  somewhat  famous  book  pro- 
ceeds. We  regret  that  we  have  not  space  for  a  complete  analysis  of  the 
work. 

(41.)  The  Rev.  Parsons  Cooke,  of  Lynn,  has  written  a  book  vilifying  Method- 
ism in  unsparing  language.  We  have  received  a  justly  severe  review  of  this 
tirade,  under  the  name  of  "  A  Defence  of  Methodism,  by  the  Ilev.  D.\niel 
AViSE."  (Boston:  J.  P.  Magee ;  12mo.,  pp.  84.)  Mr.  Wise  shows  most 
thoroughly  that  Mr.  Cooke's  "Estimate  of  Methodi-^ra  is  pragmatical,  falla- 
cious, and  false."  A  Congregational  minister  in  Xew-England,  in  the  year 
of  grace  1855,  might  find  better  business,  one  would  think,  than  abusing  his 
fellow-ChvIstians. 


(42.)  Harper's  "  Story  Books"  continue  to  appear  promptly,  and  abundant- 
ly maintain  their  reputation.  No.  XH  is  "  The  Studio  ;"  ov,  illustrations  of  the 
theory-  and  practice  of  drawing,  for  the  use  ''of  young  artists  at  home." 


(43.)  ^-Conversation,  its  Faults  and  its  Graces,"  compiled  by  Andrew  P.  Pea- 
BODV,"  (Boston:  ISmo.,  pp.  130,)  is  a  very  useful  lltdc  book,  pointing  out 
the  true  ends  of  conversation,  and  exposing  a  number  of  current  improprieties 
in  writing  and  speaking. 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  165 

(44.)  Messrs.  CAni.TON  &  Phillips  have  just  issued  their  new  and  mag- 
nificent edition  of  "  The  Holy  Bible"  (royal  4to.)  which,  in  point  of  the  neatness 
of  the  typography,  and  the  excellence  of  the  binding,  will  bear  comparison  with 
any  edition  of  the  sacred  word  yet  issued  in  America.  Indeed,  the  Turkey  mo- 
rocco and  velvet  copies  rival,  in  solidity  of  execution  and  exquisite  finish,  the 
finest  English  Bibles. 

(45.)  Few  stor)--books  for  children  come  under  our  notice  that  are  not  dis- 
figured by  provincialisms  and  inaccuracies  of  expression — a  fault  more  hurt- 
ful to  young  readers  by  far  than  to  older  ones.  It  is  a  great  sati'jfactioii, 
then,  to  fall  on  such  a  book  as  "  Harry  Budd"  (New- York :  Carlton  &  Phil- 
lips; square  r2mo.,)  which  is  not  only  a  captivating  story,  with  an  excellent 
religious  tone  throughout,  but  a  specimen  of  pure  and  chaste  English  writing. 
Our  agents  have  chanced  upon  a  rich  mine  if  they  can  induce  the  writer  of 
this  book  to  write  more. 


(46.)  ''Hill-Side  Flowers"  (New-York:  Carlton  &  Phillips,  1356;  12mo., 
pp.  240)  is  a  volume  of  poetical  selections,  made  with  rare  taste  and  judgment. 
It  does  not  include  the  standard  "  specimens  of  the  best  poets,"  of  which  such 
collections  are  conunonly  made  up;  but,  to  use  Bishop  Simpson's  language  in 
the  beautiful  Introduction  which  he  has  furnished  to  the  volume,  •'  it  seeks 
rather  to  present  in  a  permanent  form,  either  original  contributions,  or  soIoq- 
tions  from  the  graceful  poetry  tliat  so  often  adorns  the  perio<riral  literature  of 
the  day."  The  profits  of  the  work  are  devoted  to  a  new  church  just  liuilt  on 
the  Hudson.  With  this  additional  merit  added  to  its  intrinsic  ones,  we  conlially 
recommend  "  IllU-Side  Flowers"  as  a  gift-book  of  the  best  and  purest  class. 


(47.)  Of  the  following  we  regret  that  we  can  give  only  the  titles  :— 

"  Holding  forth  the  "Word  of  Life ;"  a  Discourse  before  the  American 
Baptist  Publication  Society  at  Chicago.    May,  1S55.     By  IloUin  II.  Xeale,  D.D. 

Annual  Register  of  the  Baltimore  Conference  of  the  ]\Iethodist  Episcopal 
Church  for  1855. 

The  Relation  of  Science  to  the  Useful  Arts ;  a  Lecture  delivered  to  the 
American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences.    By  Daniel  Treadwell. 

Our  Country's  Mission  in  History  ;  an  Address  before  the  PhilonKathean 
Society  of  Pennsylvania  College,  September  19,  1855. 

A  Description  of  five  new  ^Meteoric  Irons;  with  some  Theoretical  Consider- 
ations on  the  Origin  of  Meteorites.     By  J.  L.  Leavitt,  M.  D. 

The  Regard  due  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  with  an  Examination  of  the  New 
Roman  Dogma.  By  the  Rev.  Mason  Gallagher,  Rector  of  the  Church  of  the 
Evangelists,  Oswego,  N.  Y. 

The  Revolt  of  Tartarus ;  a  Poem.     Montreal,  1855.     Pp.81. 

Homer;  an  Address  delivered  before  the  Belles  Lettrcs  and  Piiilological 
Societies  of  Dickinson  College.     By  the  Rev.  D.  D.  AVhedon,  D.  D. 

Slavery  IndisjK-nsable  to  the  Civilisation  of  Africa.     Baltiuion- :  .1.  D.  Toy. 

The  True  and  the  False  in  the  Prevalent  Theories  of  the  Divine  Dispen- 
sations; a  Discourse  delivered  in  the  Unitarian  Church,  Washington,  D.  C. 
By  the  Rev.  M.  D.  Conway. 


lOG  Religious  and  Litera7-y  Intelligence.         [January, 

Report  of  tliC  Board  of  Trustees  of  Oneida  Conference  Seminary,  1855. 

Baccalaureate  Sermon,  delivered  before  the  Graduating  Cla<s  of  theWesley- 
an  Univcrsit}-,  by  the  Rev.  C.  K.  True,  D.  D. 

The  Testimony  of  Jesus.    Parti.     Philadelphia:  E.  Jones. 

The  Young  Communicant's  Catechism.  By  the  Rev.  J.  Willison.  New- 
York :  Carters,  1855.     Pp.  48. 

General  Catalogue  of  the  Officers  and  Students  of  Rutger's  College,  from 
1770  to  1855. 

Letters  on  College  Government,  and  the  Evils  inscparalilc  from  the  Ameri- 
can College  System  in  its  present  form:  originally  addressed  to  the  Hon.  A- 
B.  Meek,  one  of  the  Editors  ot  the  Mobile  Register.  By  Frederick  A.  P. 
Barnard,  ^i.  A. 

The  Old  and  the  New.  A  Sermon  containing  the  Ilistorv'  of  the  First 
UniLirian  Church  in  Washington  City.     By  iloncure  D.  Conway. 

A  Sermon  preached  in  St  Andrew's  Church,  Philadelphia,  before  the 
Convention  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  Diocese  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, ou  Wednesday,  May  IGth,  1855.     By  the  Rev.  Samuel  Bowman,  D.  D. 

Christ's  Kingdom  on  Earth  :  a  Self-Expanding  ^lissionary  Society.  A  Dis- 
course for  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Missions  :  preached  in  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church,  N.Y.,  May  Gth,  1855.     By  the  Rev.  Stuart  Robinson. 

Lecture  on  the  Cultivation  of  the  Christian  Elements  of  Republicanism. 
By  Rev.  O.  H.  Tiffany,  A.  M. 


Art.  IX.— RELIGIOUS  AND  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE. 

(From  our  German  CoiTC5i>ondent) 

r  in  Germany.    They  look  at  tlie  prevailing 

Halle,  Iboo.  thi-olog-y  of  Germany  as  aiuiquatej  ;    N^ 

The   quarrel  of  the  Theological  Faculty  ander  and  his  disci])les  are  considered  as 

of  Gottingen  with  a  number  of  Lutheran  not   more   than   half-orthodox  ;    aud  the 

clergymen  in  the  kinijdom  of  Hanover  and  orthodoxy  of  llcngstenlerg  is,    at  most, 

other  parts  of  Germany  is  one  of  the  most  estimati'd    at   three-quarters.     Thus    this 

important   recent  events   in  tlie  German  Gottingen  controversy  is  a  new  stage  in 

Protestant  Church.    These  strictly  denom-  the  contest  of  denominational  orthodoxy 

inational  Lutherans   have  found  that  the  against  the  I'nion  and  against  theological 

professors  arc  not  quite  sound  in  Liithrran  science,  which,  in  tliis  cuiitest,  sides  with 

ortliod:^3;y  ;   hence  they  demimd   that  the  the  I'lii'^n.      These  I.ullivrans  go  lick  to 

faculty  be   wholly  or  partially  composed  .a  stand-point  souiewliat  like  that  of  the 

of  denominationalists  of   uiiimpeacliuble  Formula  Concordia,  and,  tlierefore,  do  not 

soundness.     .Among  the  opponents  of  the  much    ditfer  from   the   jtarty   of  Flacius, 

faculty  there  are  some  men  of  great  piety  which   persecuted    and,   for   a   time,  snp- 

and  merit.     The  controversial  writings  of  pressed     the    Melancthonians.      In    like 

Rev.  r>r.  Petri    and    the     superintendent  manner  ttic  old  Lutheran  party  of  the  pres- 

gencral    of    Mecklenburg,    Dr.    Kliefoth,  ent  day  think  that  they  ah>ne  are  entitled 

(Kirchliche    Zeitschrift    v  .n   Kliefoth    .i;  to  the  name  of  the  Lutheran  Church.     If 

Meier,  is.Vt,  Xo.  1,)  especially  tlic  latter,  you  ask  them  about  the  Inion,  they  will 

are  written  with  remarkable  talent,  and  tell  you  that  the  Lutheran  Church  i*  the 

exphiin,  in  a  manner   at   once   ci.-ar  ai;d  union,  being  tlie  right  mean  between  Ca- 

icteresting,  the  successive  steps  of  their  tholicism  aud  the  Reformed  Church.     Do 

progi-ess  from  a  more  liberal  stand-point  you  ask  about  the  Lutlieruu  Church,  they 

up    to    a    very    exclusive    Luthtranism.  tell    you,  "We,    and    wo    alone,    are   the 

They  have  many  foll'jwers  in  this  respect  Lutheran    Chtirch  ;"    or,    perhaps,    even. 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


167 


"We  alone  are  the  Church."  Neverthe- 
less they  vastly  disa;:;ree  among  them- 
selves, not  a  few  of  their  jirofcssors  and 
ministers  having  mingled  either  modern 
or  Romanizing  opinions  T\ith  old  Liither- 
anism.  In  particular  on  the  Church,  the 
ministry,  aud  the  Sacraments,  I'useyistic 
ideas  are  rather  widely  spread  among 
them.  They  are  far  from  realizing  a 
Church  according  to  their  notions.  Ad- 
hering to  the  Lutheran  tradition  more  in 
words,  than  in  deed,  they  permit  in  them- 
selves the  very  deviations  which  they 
blame  in  others.  There  is  no  little  con- 
fusion among  them  on  the  conception  and 
degree  of  the  liberty  to  be  allowed  in 
theological  investigations.  Also  a  remark- 
able aversion  to  Spener  and  Pietism  is  on 
the  increase  among  them.  They  say  that 
Spener  was  no  genuine  Lutheran,  and  that 
he  transplanted  reformed  elements  into 
the  Church  :  his  endeavours  to  bring  about 
a  revival  of  faith  and  Christian  life  in  in- 
dividuals and  smaller  communities  was  in 
their  judgnient  equivalent  to  a  dissolving 
of  the  Church  into  individuals,  and  to  an 
endangering  of  the  Church  ministry,  For 
the  same  reason  they  look  with  some  sus- 
picion at  the  activity  of  lawmen  in  the 
Home  ^lission,  the  object  of  which  is  to 
renew,  by  the  united  exertions  of  clergy 
and  laymen,  a  Christian  life  in  the  people 
now  pining  in  misery  and  infidelity.  This 
conduct  of  the  Lutherans  toward  Pietism 
manif-'sts  cle.irly  how  they  would  consider 
Methodisra,  f<.>r  there  is  nothing  in  the 
German  Church  more  resembling  Method- 
ism then  Pietism.  P>oth  proceeded  from 
the  same  want ;  both  aim  to  lead  the 
people,  that  had  been  neglected  by  pastors 
contented  with  a  cold  orthodoxy,  to  a 
living  Christianity  of  ir.ner  experience 
aud  active  love,  aud  similar  means  have 
been  used  for  this  purpose  by  both.  The 
faculty  of  Gottingen  has  issued,  in  this 
Lutheran  controversy,  first  a  Memoir  to 
the  State  Ministry  for  Education,  and  then 
a  Declaration  ("  Erklarung")  as  a  reply 
to  the  attacks  made  on  the  Memoir.  This 
Declaration  is  an  excellent  treatise,  and 
by  far  superior  to  anything  that  has  been 
■written  in  this  controversy.  It  examines 
the  task  of  theological  faculties  with  re- 
ference to  literary  culture  in  general,  with 
reference  to  the  symbolic  books  of  their 
denominations,  and  with  reference  to  eccle- 
siastical developments.  It  is  written  with 
a  liberal  mind,  stern  piety,  theological 
profoundness,  and  a  vsarm  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  Church.  It  preserves  at  the 
same  time  a  tone  of  moral  dignity  and 
"almncss   that   does  not  allow    itself   to 


follow  the  opponents  in  using  sarcastic 
and  mocking  language. 

We  have  great  pleasure  to  refer  on  this 
occasion  to  a  work  of  one  of  our  tirst  the- 
ologians, Professor  Dr.  Julius  MuUer,  of 
Halle,  on  "  The  Evnnrjdival  Union,  its  A«- 
snire  and  Divine  Right.''  ("  Die  evantreli- 
sche  Union,  ihr  Wtsen  und  gottliches 
Recht,  Halle,  185-1.")  It  treats  of  the 
Union  according  to  its  biblical  right,  its 
history  in  Prussia;  tries  with  great  skill 
to  exhibit  the  cvnsuuna  of  the  Lutiieran 
and  Reformed  symbols,  retaining  their 
formulas  as  much  as  possible  unchanged ; 
and  accotnpanies  this  exposition  \4ith 
profound  and  important  iuvestigatiuus  on 
the  particular  dogmas  of  the  symbols. 
AVe  are  of  opinion  that  this  keen  and 
thorough  comparison  will  considerably 
promote  the  understanding  of  what  is  com- 
mon and  different  in  the  denoniinatious. 
The  style  of  the  authors  shows  the  anima- 
tion which  springs  from  a  love  of  the 
Gospel,  not  denying  itself  even  to  adver- 
saries, and  that  clearness  and  eloganci; 
which  distinguish  the  former  works  of  the 
author,  especially  his  celebrated -treatise 
on  "  The  Doctrine  of  Sin." 

"  Hand/nich  dcs  3f<thodii<miis,  von  Luhri'j 
S.  Jncohj,  Pnditjer  dcr  hischdjiichcn  Mttho- 
dixtadirche.  Bremen,  1S53.""  [H'lnd-hook 
of  Methodism,  by  Juccbij.)  The  author  of 
this  work  is  right  in  quoting  the  words 
of  a  German  Evangelical  minister,  the 
rise  of  that  "  ^Methodism  is  one  of  the 
most  important  events  of  modern  times, 
and  that  few  events  have  becu  more  ef- 
fective in  a  regeneration  of  the  Evangel- 
ical Church."  We  think  that  hardly  any 
German  theologian  of  thorough  knowled::re 
will  deny  this,  even  if  he  is  not  favourable 
to  the  progress  of  ^lethodism.  Since  it 
has  found  its  way  into  Germany  the  inter- 
est for  and  against  it  has  become  more 
lively,  but  still  the  number  of  those  who 
are  v.cll  acquainted  with  its  history  and 
peculiarities  is  limited.  The  author  de- 
serves thanks,  therefore,  for  having  given 
in  his  work  a  characteristic  of  Methodism 
in  a  plain,  popular,  and  yet  captivating 
manner.  He  describes  the  life  of  John 
Wesley,  and  knows  how  to  fascinate  his 
readers  by  the  recital'  of  his  conversh-n, 
of  his  struggles,  and  successes.  He  theu 
developes  the  gradual  organization  of  tlu- 
community,  touches  briefly  upon  the 
achievements  of  Fletcher,  .and  proceeds 
to  the  "origin  of  tlie  .Metliodi5t  .Mis- 
sions" in  the' activity  of  Dr.  Coke,  \\\\o 
for  the  sake  of  the  Mission  crossed  the  At- 
lantic eighteen  times,  and  who,  even  in 
the  CSth  year  of  his  life,  set  out  for  tlie 


168 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligaice.        [January, 


East  Indies.  The  second  division  of  the 
first  part  contains  the  liistory  of  iletlioJ- 
isni  in  America.  Here  German  readers 
take  a  particular  interest  in  the,  split 
caused  in  the  Church  by  the  slavery 
question.  The  author  increases  the 
vivacity  of  the  narration  frequently  by 
introducing  the  leading  persons  as  speak- 
ing. There  is  many  a  striking,  ingenious, 
edifying  word  in  these  speeches.  The 
second  part  treats  of  the  docfi-ine ;  which, 
mostly,  is  explained  Ly  extracts  from  the" 
works  of  Wesley.  The  vigour,  the  inner 
experience  and  impressive  language  of 
this  eminent  man  are  admirable ;  and 
it  is  plain  that  iu  the  principal  doc- 
trines, as  in  justification  by  faith,  there 
is  no  deviation  of  importance  from  the 
teachings  of  the  Evangelical  Church  of 
Germany.  The  third  part  discusses,  in 
the  same  clear  and  intelligible  way,  the 
Church  government  of  Methodism.  The 
fourth  part  treats  iu  particular  of  the 
peculiar  institutions  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  defends  them  against  objec- 
tions. .Mthough^we  must  abide  by  our 
opinion  that  some  of  those  institutions, 
ej;  (p-.,  the  class-meeting,  cannot  be  intro- 
duced in  the  Evangelical  Church  of  Ger- 
many, yet  we  willingly  concede  to  the 
warm,  calm,  and  skilful  apology  of  the 
author  that  they  have  been  very  useful  for 
the  Methodist  Church,  and  that  something 
similar  is  needed  in  the  German  Church.  I 
believe  also  that  this  is  felt  universally,  and 
that  active  ministers  know  where  to  fii'd 
remedies.  After  what  has  been  said,  we 
think  this  work  a  valuablo  contribution  to 
the  knowledge  of  Methodism,  the  essence 
and  import  of  which  are  made  intelligible 
also  to  non-theologians. 

15efore  concluding,  I  w  ould  here  mention 
that  in  1S53  a  professor  of  theology  in  a 
German  university  made  a  voyage  to  Lon- 
don, where  he  stepped  into  an  open  church, 
not  knowing  that  it  was  a  Methodist 
church.  H?  was  shi>wu  into  :\u  adjoining 
room,  where  he  fouud  a  number  of  devout 
people  assembled,  and  an  old  venerable- 
looking  man  was  leading  the  religious 
exercises.  Each  one  in  the  society  spoke 
some  words  from  the  heart,  and  at  the 
close  all  others  uttered  their  absent.  The 
earnestness  and  cordiality  prevailing 
throughout  the  assembly,  and  the  piety  of 
tlie  words  spoken,  editicd  the  stranger  to 
a  higli  <lcgree.  .^fter  all  had  spoken,  the 
leader  of  tlie  assembly  called,  ii»  a  friend- 
ly manner,  also  on  the  stranger  to  utter 
his  sentiments  in  a  similar  way.  He  com- 
plied with  this  request  willingly,  and  the 


assembly  spoke  their  Amen  with  visible 
interest.  The  stranger,  as  he  told  me 
himself,  parted  greatly  satisfied  with 
those  with  whom  he  had  so  soon  become 
one  in  the  Lord. 

"  Gencliichte  drr  pi-oUstantUcTien  Dorpna- 
tiL  111  ihrcm  Zusawmvnhange  tnit  der  Theo— 
loijie  uberhniipt,  von  Dr.  W.  Gass,  Professor 
der  Theologie  zu  Greifswald."  1S54. 
(History  of  I'rotcstant  Dogmatics,  by  Dr. 
AV".  Gass.  Berlin,  LS54.  Svo.)  Among 
the  works  published  recently  on  the  the- 
ology of  the  IGth  or  17th  century  the  one 
mentioned  takes  a  prominent  place.  Al- 
though dogmatics  is  now  the  principal  sci- 
ence of  theology,  yet  a  history  of  it  w  as  still 
wanting.  In  this  work  it  is  carried  through 
the  most  productive  j.eriod,  to  the  end  of 
the  17th  century.  The  author  distin- 
guishes the  founding  of  dogmatics  by 
5lelancthon,  Zwingli,  and  Calvin,  and 
their  successors  in  the  Lutheran  and  PwC- 
formed  Churches.  Eirst  he  gives  a  geji- 
eral  description :  the  politico-ecclesias- 
tical condition,  the  progress  of  the  other 
theological  disciplines,  and  the  study  of 
philosophy  and  its  relation  to  theology,  a 
very  interesting  and  instructive  section, 
the  object  of  which  has  been  but  little 
examined  as  yet.  Then  the  author  shows 
the  character  of  the  theology  of  that  lime 
iu  the  prescriptions  given  for  the  regula- 
tion of  studies  ;  how  the  inner  and  practi- 
cal side  is  not  entirely  wanting,  but  how 
there  is  yet  too  much  of  drilling  and  po- 
lemics. Then  follows  a  history  of  the 
fundamental  notions  on  inspiration,  holy 
writ,  authority  of  symbols,  distinction  of 
fundamental  and  non-fundamental  articles 
of  faith.  After  this,  the  group  of  Luther- 
an dogmatic  writers  :  Hutter  and  Ger- 
hard, Calixt  and  his  adherents  ;  the  com- 
pletion of  the  system  by  Konig,  Calov, 
Quenstedt,  and  others.  Thereupon,  the 
works  of  the  Reformed  Churches  of  Switz- 
erland, Germany,  and  the  Low  Countries. 
This  will  suffice  to  set  the  copiousness  of 
material  contained  in  this  work  in  clear 
light.  The  author  does  not  expatiate 
upon  particulars;  but  it  is  one  of  the  ex- 
cellences of  the  book  that  he  always  keeps 
the  general  points  of  view  before  his  eyes. 
Hence  he  has  well  succeeded  in  giving 
characteristics,  his  summaries  clearly 
comprise  the  result,  the  order  is  well- 
membcrcd,  a'.ul  the  reader,  notwithstand- 
ing the  intricacy  of  the  matter,  sets  him- 
stlf  easily  right.  The  style  is  plain,  but 
not  without  dignity;  tlic  expressions  arc 
choice,  and  the  judgment  passed  with  a 
thoroughly  educated  and  liberal  mind. 


THE 

METHODIST  aUAETEELY  EEYIEW. 

APRIL,    1856. 


Art.  I— JULIUS  CHAPvLES   HAEE. 

I,  Guesses  fit  Truth.  By  Ttvo  Brothers.  First  Series.  Fifth  Edition.  Eevised. 
LonJoa:  1S55. 

^.  Guesses  at  Truth.    By  lY»-o  Brothers.    Second  Series.     Tliird  Edition.  18.35. 

3.  Sermons  prcacht  in  Herstmonceux  Church.  By  JuLics  Charles  Hare,  M.  A., 
Rector  of  Herstmonceux,  Archdeacon  of  Le-wes,  and  late  Fellow  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege.    Cambridge:  2  vols.   ISll  and  1S47.* 

4.  The  Victory  of  Faith,  ard  other  Sermons.  By  Jcucs  Chaeij:s  Hare,  ii:c. 
Second  Edition.     1847. 

5.  ITie  Mission  of  the  Comforter,  and  other  Sermons,  with  Notes.  By  JuLirs  Charles 
Hare.     Second  Edition.     Eevised.     1850. 

C.  Essays  anl  Tales.  By  .John'  Sterlixo.  Collected  and  edited,  with  a  Memoir  of 
his  Life.     By  J.  C.  Haee,  .iiC.     2  vols.     16-iS. 

7.  2'he  Means  of  Unity  :  a  Charge.  With  Notes  on  the  Jerusalem  Bishopric,  cjii 
the  Need  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Synod.     By  J.  C.  Hare,  &c. 

8.  Letter  to  the  Dean  of  Chichester  on  the  Appointment  of  Dr.  Hampden.  Second 
Edition.     ^Vith  Postscript.     By  J.  C.  H-vre,  cVc. 

9.  The  Better  Prospects  of  the  Church :  a  Charge.     By  J.  C.  Hare,  i:c. 

10.  The  Contest  icith  Rome:  a  Charge  delivered  in  1851,  with  Notes;  especially  in 
ansu'er  to  Dr.  Ncvman's  Lectures.     By  J.  C.  Hare,  licc. 

II.  jirchdeacon  Hare's  Last  Charge.     1855. 

12.  Two  Sermons,  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Funeral  of  ..Archdeacon  Hare.  By  the 
Rev.  H.  0.  Elliott,  M.  A.,  and  the  Rev.  J-  N.  Simpklssox,  M.  A.     1855. 

The  aliove  list  includes  tlic  principal  vrricings  of  the  late  Julius 
Charles  Hare,  ^-ith  the  exception  of  the  translation  of  Miebuhr, 
"which  he  executed  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  Connop  Thirlwall,  and 
by  which  he  first  gained  a  wide  reputation  as  a  scholar.  We 
have  not  put  on  our  list  his  famous  "  Vindication  of  Luther  again.?t 
his  recent  English  Assailants,"  because  it  was  originally  published 
as  a  huge  note  in  the  second  volume  of  the  "  Mission  of  the  Com- 
forter," and  appears  as  such  both  in  tlie  first  and  in  the  second 
edition  of  that  work.     It  is  now  published,  as  on  every  account  it 

"  Prcacht,  not  preached.    Hare  had  his  ovrn  system  of  spelling,  somewhat  resem- 
bling that  of  W.  S.  Landor.     There  is  principle  and  consistency  in  it,  and  often  it 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 11 


170  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

deserved  to  be,  in  a  separate  form.  A  volume  of  "Notes  to  the 
Victory  of  Faitli"  has  been  promised  ever  since  the  publication 
of  the  text  in  1S47,  and  has  been  announced  for  three  years  past 
as  "preparing  for  publication."  We  believe,  ho^-ever,  that  tlus 
is  still  reserved  for  Mr.  Hare's  executors  to  publish,  owing,  as  we 
presume,  to  the  repeated  attacks  of  severe  indisposition  which, 
during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  too  often  compelled  the  inteiTup- 
tion  of  his  literary,  and  the  suspension  or  postponement  of  his 
official  labours. 

JuLiu.s  Charles  Hare  had  an  elder  brother,  Au(5ustus  "William, 
a  gra'ijuAte  of  Oxford,  and  fellow  of  jS"e\y  College,  who  became,  after 
leaving  the  University,  rector  of  Alton  Barnes,  a  retired  village  in 
Wiltshire.*  Between  these  two  brothers  there  existed  a  tender 
affection,  and  there  appears  to  have  been  considerable  similarity  in 
their  tastes  and  opinions.  They  were  the  joint  authors  of  the  "  Guesses 
at  Truth;"  a  work  of  v.hich  the  rare  merits  were  generally  recognised 
long  before  the  authorship  had  ceased  to  be  a  secret.  4_ugustu3 
William  was  also  the  author  of  a  posthumous  volume  of  "  Sermons 
to  a  Country  Congregation,"  which  had  the  singular  good  fortune  to 
attract  the  attention  and  gain  the  high  praise  both  of  the  Edinburgh 
and  Quarterly  Bevievrs,  at  that  time  in  the  height  of  their  unrivalled 
eminence  as  the  arbiters  of  taste,  the  Minos  and  Bliadamanthus  of 
literary  destinies.  Their  gifted  author  died  in  l!<o4,  while  still  in 
the  prime  of  his  life,  and  left  his  brother,  but  for  the  "good  hope" 
which  religion  afforded,  inconsolable  on  account  of  his  loss. 

Some  of  our  readers  may  remember  the  brief  but  emphatic 
notice  of  Archdeacon  Hare  as  "the  corypluTcus"  of  the  Broad 
Church  school  of  Church  of  England  divines,  which  we  gave  toward 
the  commencement  of  our  article  on  "  Mr.  Maurice  and  his  Writ- 
ings" in  a  former  number  of  this  Review.f  Little  did  we  think, 
when  writing  those  remarks  on  "the  genial,  accomplished,  and  eru- 
dite archdeacon,"  that  within  not  many  days  from  the  publication 

is  apt  and  convenient,  tliou;,-h  sometimes  the  results  look  funny  enoug-li,  c.  s.,forst 
for  forced.  In  addition  to  liis  arcl^doaconry,  Hare  held  the  preferment  of  prebend- 
ary of  Chichester,  and  was  one  of  tiie  chaplains  iu  ordinary  to  the  queen.  Let  us 
add,  in  this  miscellaneous  note,  that  the  "Guesses  at  Truth"  were  originally  pub- 
lished in  two  volumes.  Of  these  the  first  volume,  with  large  additions,  has  been 
republished  in  two  volumes,  issued  at  a  considerable  interval  from  one  another, 
and  designated  first  and  second  series.  The  original  volume,  with  additions,  has 
been  announced  for  publication  as  the  third  series ;  but  it  was  still  unpublished 
at  the  time  of  Hare's  death. 

°  There  were  two  other  brothers,  one  older  and  the  other  younger.  But  of 
them  nothing  of  importance  is  related. 

t  January,  lSo5,  p.  29. 


185G.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  171 

of  our  article  that  distinguished  man  -would  be  no  more.  But  so 
it  is.  Broken  down,  not  by  weight  of  years,  but  by  repeated 
attacks  of  severe  illness,  Julius  Charles  Hare  has  passed  to  his 
place  above.  A  prince  in  intellectual  wealth,  an  oracle  for  saga- 
city, a  poet  in  genius,  a  master  in  criticism  and  in  polemics,  a 
champion  of  Protestantism,  a  brave  and  truthful,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  gentle  and  loving  spirit,  a  devout  and  humble  Christian,  has 
left  the  V,  orld  to  fmd  out  its  loss,  and  not  a  few  devoted  friends  and 
warm  admirers  to  mourn  his  departure.  It  is  with  such  an  estimate 
of  his  character  that  we  undertake  the  office  of  reviewing  his  writings. 
In  some  important  respects  we  are  compelled  to  deem  his  \iews  and 
teachings  defective;  but  he  was,  notwithstanding,  a  noble  and  a 
lovely  spirit  among  men. 

The  position  of  Archdeacon  Hare  was  peculiar,  and  is  not  easily  to 
be  defined.  His  antecedents  and  connexions,  so  far  as  we  know  them, 
would  have  led  us  to  e.xpect  that  his  place  would  be  found  at  that 
pole  of  the  Coleridgean  Broad  Church  school,  where  pseudo- philo- 
sophic anti- evangelism  meets  infidelity  half  way.  He  was  th.o  friend 
and  biographer  of  Sterling,  who  for  a  short  time  was  his  cui"ate,  and 
•whose  dangerous  errors  ho  has  not  concealed,  and  yet,  in  too  many 
instances,  has  not  attempted  to  reprove  and  confute.  He  married 
a  sister  of  Mr.  Maurice's,  whose  wife,  again,  was  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Sterling,  and,  by  Hare's  will,  Mr.  Maurice  is  appointed  his  executor, 
and  inherits  the  bulk  of  his  library.  In  more  than  one  place  of  his 
Amtings,  Hare  seems  to  identify  his  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
inspiration  with  those  contained  in  Coleridge's  "  Confessions  of  an 
Inquiring  Spirit ;"  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  his  own  writings 
breathe  more  of  the  evangelical  spirit  than  any  other  of  the  school 
to  which  we  have  referred.  Often,  indeed,  he  all  but  comes  up  to 
the  full  standard  of  explicit  evangelical  orthodoxy ;  though  it  is  not 
to  be  concealed  that  in  other  places  his  statements  are  seriously 
defective.  He  has,  besides,  in  one  of  his  latent  works  so  referred 
to  the  "  evangelicals  "  by  name,  as  to  seem  to  make  their  cause  his 
own ;  though,  again,  it  must  be  admitted  that  sometimes  elsewhere 
his  remarks  have  implied  some  disparagement  of  them  and  their 
doctrine.  He  often  refers,  in  terms  which  imply  high  approbation, 
to  the  writings  of  i\Ir.  Maurice;  yet  we  can  find  no  trace  in  all  his 
works  of  any  approximation  to  Mr.  Maurice's  specific  views,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  we  think  there  is  proof  positive  that,  as  to  most  of 
these  views,  he  is  altogether  at  variance  with  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  appears  as  the  courteous  and  discriminating,  but  decided 
opponent,  of  the  doctrinal  and  ceremonial  High  Churchism  of  Bishop 
Wilborforce  (of  Oxford),  toward  which  we  may  presume  that  the 


172  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

views  of  Professor  Trench,*  his  examining;. chaplain,  incline,  espe- 
cially as  in  his  exegetical  writings  there  is  nothing  to  disfavor  this 
presumption,  while  there  is  evidence  to  support  it.  lie  is  the  de- 
clared enemy  and  i\\Q  able  and  intrepid  assailant  of  Tractarianism. 
With  easy  and  brilliant  mastery  of  learning  and  of  logic,  he  has  met 
and  refuted  Dr.  Kewman  at  every  essential  point  in  his  attacks  upon 
Protestantism,  and  has  broken  at  every  point  the  line  of  defences 
wherewith,  in  his  '^  Povelopment  Theory,"  he  attempted  to  sur- 
round Popery.  Moreover,  he  published  the  most  complete  vindi- 
cation of  Luther  from  the  calumnies  of  Bossuet  and  others,  that 
Protestantism  has  yet  produced.  So  that,  while  indisputably  a 
writer  of  the  Broad  Church  school,  and  too  often  showing  a  tend- 
ency toward  considerable  laxity  of  doctrine,  while,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  scarcety  sound  and  heart-whole  as  to  the  grand  central 
and  vital  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  in  the  vicarious  and 
expiatory  sacrifice  of  Christ,  yet  it  appears  that  Archdeacon 
Hare  sympathized  more  strongly,  and  was  disposed  to  frater- 
nize more  closely,  than  any  other  member  of  that  school,  with 
orthodox  evangelical  teachers  of  the  old-fashioned  Lutheran  and 
Methodist  doctrines,  and  that  he  held  an  independent  position 
equally  remote  from  the  new  Platouizing  semi-infidel  and  from  the 
High  Church  poles  of  the  Broad  Church  schools.  In  Church  poli- 
tics he  was  a  liberal,  and  a  conservative  reformer.  He  had  long 
pleaded  for  the  restoration  of  Convocation,  but  would  have  its  form 
amended,  and  the  rights  of  the  laity  (who,  except  in  so  far  as 
churchwardenship  may  go,  are  ignored  in  the  English  Episcopal 
Church)  recognised,  defined,  and  conceded.  By  seminal  reforms 
he  would  prevent  the  incoming  of  "  radical  reforms  "  [so  called]  or 
of  revolution.-!-     Dwelling  thus  alone  in  the  Church  field,  being  a 

"  The  Eev.  R.  Chenevir,  Trench,  an  cnrly  and  intimate  friend  of  Hare,  ^Maurice, 
and  Sterling,  has  succeeded  Maurice  iu  the  divinity  chair  at  King's  College. 

t  Hare's  f:?clinjs  as  to  reform  are  indicated  in  the  followinc  pregnant  extract. 
lie  id  linding  fault  with  the  phrase  radical  reform  as  "involving  au  absurdity," 
and  thus  concludes  his  remarks  : 

"The  -n-ord  may  perhaps  he  borrowed  from  rardiciiie,  in  which  we  speak  of  a  rodical 
cure.  This,  however,  is  a  metaphor  implyiuj  the  extirpation  or  comjilete  ujirootiiig  of 
the  disease,  after  which  the  sanative  powers  of  nature  will  rtsture  the  constitution  to 
health.  But  there  is  no  such  sanative  power  in  a  state;  where  the  mere  removal  of 
abuses  dotrs  not  avail  to  set  any  vital  faculties  iu  action.  Li  truth,  this  is  ouly  another 
fjrm  of  the  errour,  by  which'nian,  ever  'quicker  at  destroy!n^:  than  at  iiroilucing,  has 
confounded  repentance  with  reformation,  fifraiii?.eia  vith  /lerdvoia-  Whereas  the 
true  reformer  is  he  who  creates  new  institutions,  and  gives  tliera  life  .and  energy,  and 
trusts  t-i  them  for  thrmvimr  o'.f  such  e^il  hunf^urs  as  m;iy  be  lyi'-i,'  in  the  body  poliric. 
The  true  revrmer  is  the  seminal  rii'irnier.  uut  the  radical.  A:id  this  is  the'way  the 
Sower,  who  went  forth  to  sov.  His  seed,  did  really  niovm  the  world,  vithoiit^making  any 
open  assault  to  uproot  what  was  already  existing' —  Guesses  at  Truth.    Fint  Scricg,  p.  "JSO. 

Let  our  readers  take  notice  that  in  this  extract  and  elsewhere  we  leave  Hare's 
peculiar  spcUins  as  we  find  it. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  173 

mau  of  no  party,  and  belonging  to  a  school  the  adherents  of  which  are 
too  eclectic  and  too  minutely  independent  to  have  a  common  organ, 
even  if  they  were  numerous  enough  among  the  people  at  large  to  be 
able  to  sustain  one,  Archdeacon  Hare  ^ya3  never  able,  if  he  had  been 
disposed,  to  identify  himself  with  any  public  journal.*  He  exercised 
no  influence  through  the  columns  of  a  newspaper;  he  contrib- 
uted to  no  review  or  magazine.  Perhaps  this  may  be  one  reason 
why  his  decease  has  received  so  little  notice  in  English  periodicals. 
Three  or  four  lines  sulliced  for  it  in  the  AthencEuvi,  and  the  short 
notices  which  have  appeared  in  the  Cliristian  Observer  and  Church 
of  England  Quarterly  Review,  though  highly  laudatory,  are  most 
meagre  and  inadequate.  An  extended  article  on  Hare  has,  how- 
ever, appeared  in  the  Quarterly  Review. 

Julius  Charles  Hare  was  born  September  13th,  1795,  at  Herst- 
monceux,  a  rural  village  and  parish  in  Sussex,  situated  near  the 
southern  coast  of  England.  His  father  was  a  gentleman  of  good 
estate,  lord  of  the  manor,  and  having  in  his  gift  the  rectory  of 
Hcrstmouccux.  His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Bishop  Shipley,  of 
St.  Asaph,  and  is  said  to  have  possessed  a  fine  and  noble  character. 
Lady  Jones,  the  widow  of  the  celebrated  Sir  William,  was  remem- 
bered by  him  as  his  aunt,  and  as  one  of  the  guides  of  his  childhood. 
On  the  father's  side,  also,  a  bishop  was  among  his  ancestors,  Francis 
Hare,  a  churchman  of  learning  and  reputation,  well  known  as  chaplain 
to  the  great  Marlborough,  having  been  Bishop  of  Chichester.  This 
bishop  became  the  lord  of  Herstmonceux  Castle,  and  his  descendants 
remained  in  the  property  till  after  the  birth  of  Julius  Hare.  Young 
Hare,  as  might  be  expected  from  such  connexions,  was  sent  to  one  of 
the  great  schools  of  England.  At  the  Charter- House  he  was  prepared 
for  the  University ;  and  it  is  very  remarkable  that,  among  his  school- 
fellows, there  were  "W'addington,  the  Church  historian,  now  Dean  of 
Durham,  and  Grote  and  Thirlwall,  the  future  historians  of  Greece. 
Manning,  too,  as  we  gather  from  sunrlry  hints  in  Hare's  v,Titing3, 
was  another  of  his  school-fellows.  After  a  brilliant  career  at  school, 
he  went  to  Cambridge  in  1812.  Before  this  period  he  had  spent 
much  time,  in  boyhood  and  in  youth,  on  the  continent.     We  are 

"*  lu  the  indcpenJence  and  isolation  of  his  position  Hare  resembled  Lis  frienJ 
Di\  Arnold,  between  whose  Tiews  and  his  o-wn  there  were  many  points  of  acrrocment 
or  sympathy.  l>i'.  Aniuld  somewhere  says,  iu  reference  to  his  own  relations  at 
the  same  time  with  Oxford  and  with  the  London  t'nivcrsity,  that  he  was  considered 
a  "latitudinariau  at  Oxford  and  a  bigot  at  London."  Dr.  Arnold,  however,  waa 
a  more  modern  man  than  Hare.  lie  had  nut  the  same  veneration  for  by-gone 
learning  and  wisdom.  He  was  less  reverent  and  conservative,  and  the  fre- 
quency and  profusoness  of  his  contributions  to  newspapers  and  periodicals 
contrast  strongly  with  Hare's  tastes  and  habits. 


174  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

informed  that  lie  playfull}^  said  that  "in  ISll  he  saw  the  mark  of 
Luther's  ink  on  the  walls  of  the  Castle  of  \Vartburg :  and  there  fii-st 
learned  to  throw  inkstands  at  the  devil."*  The  period  when  Hare 
went  to  Cambridge  was  one  of  renovated  activity  and  of  high 
promise  for  both  the  English  Universities.  Among  Hare's  com- 
panions and  friends  dmnr.g  his  residence  at  Cambridge  were  num- 
bered such  spirits  as  \Vhev.-ell,  Sedgwick,  and  'j'hirlwall,  the  last  of 
Avhom  was  associated  with  him  as  fellow  of  Trinity  College,  and 
was  afterward  his  partner  in  the  work  of  translating  Isiebuhr. 
About  the  same  time  there  were  at  O.xford,  iVmold,  J.  T.  Coleridge, 
(now  Justice  Coleridge,)  Whatcle}^  Pusey,  Newman,  Manning,  the 
AVilberforces,  &c.,  with  several  of  whom,  Aniold  in  particular,  Hare 
became  afterward  acquainted  through  the  medium  of  his  brother 
Augustus,  who  was  at  this  time  at  Oxford,  and  who  formed  one 
among  this  brilliant  gala.w.  Manning  had  been  Hare's  school- 
fellow, and  many  years  later  was  his  neighbour,  friend,  and  official 
colleague,  as  a  beneficed  clergyman  and  as  archdeacon  in  the  diocese 
of  Chichester.  Few  tilings  seem  to  have  occasioned  Hare  more 
astonishment  and  grief  than  the  secession,  a  few  years  ago,  of  this 
amiable  man  and  beautiful  ■\\Titcr — a  brother-in-law,  we  believe,  of 
the  AVilherforces— to  the  Church  of  Rome. 

Jt  appears,  from  his  own  account,  to  have  been  diu'ing  this  period  of 
his  residence  at  Cambridge,  that  Hare  and  some  of  his  friends  came, 
as  he  e.vjKCSses  it,  on  their  "  entrance  into  intellectual  life,"  under  the 
influence  of  the  writings  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  his  obliga- 
tions to  both  of  Vv-hom,  particularly  to  the  latter,  he  never  loses  an 
opportunity  of  stating ;  whom  he  acknowledges  as  the  "  stimulators 
and  trainers  of  his  thought,"  and  "  by  whom,"  he  says,  "  the  better 
part"  of  his  contemporaries,  as  well  as  himself,  "were  preserved 
from  the  noxious  taint  of  Byron,"  from  his  "  antagonism  to  establisht 
opinions  and  sentimental,  self-ogling  misanthropy,"  Asc.f  It  must 
not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  there  were  at  this  time  other  influ- 
ences at  Cambridge  besides  those  either  of  J3yron-on  the  one  hand, 
or  of  \yordsworth  and  Coleridge  on  the  otiier.  Charles  Simeon 
was  in  tlic  zenith  of  his  usefulness,  and  from  the  reverent  mention 
made  by  Hare,  both  of  him  and  his  distinguished  follower  and  friend, 
Henry  Martyn,  in  the  last  pages  of  his  last  sermon  on  the  "  Victory 
of  Faith,"  we  cannot  but  hope  and  believe  that  the  faith  and  piety  of 
Simeon  had  its  share  in  moulding  the  character  of  Hare,  notwith- 
standing the  divergency  on  some  points  of  no  small  importance 
between  the  devoted  Calvinistic  clerg3^man  and  the  grave,  accom- 
plished gownsmen  Avho  attended  his  ministry.     Hare's  success  at 

"  Quarterly  llcvicw,  June,  Iboa.  f  Mission  of  the  Comforter.    Note  Sa. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  175 

college  fully  equalled  tlio  promise  of  his  earlier  academical  career. 
He  was  esteemed  one  of  the  finest  classical  scliolars  even  in  classic 
Trinity.  For  a  short  time  he  left  college  to  stud}^  the  law,  but  dis- 
relishing the  change,  and  advised  by  Whcvrell,  he  soon  returned 
to  Trinity,  where  he  had  a  fellowship,  and  became  assistant  tutor 
and  classic  lecturer.  From  his  Life  of  Sterling,  it  appears  that  he 
held  this  ofiice  in  1824,  at  which  time  there  were  attending  his  lec- 
tures, John  Sterling,  Richard  Trench,  and  Frederic  ^Slaurice,  all  of 
•whom  not  only  looked  up  to  him  as  a  teacher,  but  clave  to  him  as  a 
friend.  It  will  not  be  deemed  a  violent  conjecture  if  we  suppose 
that  it  was,  in  part,  through  the  influence  and  advice  of  Hare  that 
these  three  remarkable  men,  two  of  whom  were,  in  after  days,  to 
depart  so  widely  and  lamentably  from  the  faith  of  Christians,  were 
led  to  the  study  and  admiration  of  the  writings  of  Coleridge,  whose 
personal  friends  and  hearers  they  afterward  became,  and  of  whom 
Hare  says,  in  allusion  to  the  influence  of  his  writings  on  the  mind 
of  these  men,  that  "  at  the  time  it  was  beginning  to  be  acknowledged 
by  more  than  a  few  that  Coleridge  is  the  tme  sovereign  of  modem 
English  thought."  "  The  A  ids  to  Refection''  he  adds,  "  had  recently 
been  published,  and  were  doing  the  work  for  which  they  are  so 
admirably  fitted  ;  that  book  to  which  many,  as  has  been  said  by  one 
of  Sterling's  chief  friends,  o^Ye  even  their  own  selves."  (Life  of 
Sterling,  pp.  14,  15.)  In  1S2S,  Hare  and  Thirlwall  pubhshcd  the 
first  volume  of  their  translation  of  !Xiebuhr,  the  second  volume  of 
which  was  published  in  1S32.  ISiebuhrs  third  volume  was  left  to  be 
translated  by  other  hands.  In  1S2S,  also,  appeared  in  two  small 
volumes,  the  "  Guesses  at  Tiaith ;  by  Two  Brothers." 

In  1S32,  Hare  left  Cambridge  to  enter  upon  the  living  of  Herst- 
monceux,  to  which  he  had  been  presented  by  his  brother.  Before 
entering  upon  his  pastoral  work,  he  took  an  extensive  tour,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  visited  Rome  for  the  first  time.  Here,  at  the 
English  chapel,  he  preached  a  sermon,  which  is  published  at  llie  end 
of  the  same  volume  with  the  "Victory  of  Faith,"  and  is  dedicated 
to  Chevalier  Bunsen,  whose  acquaintance  Hare  made  for  the  first 
time  on  this  visit  to  Rome,  where  Bunsen  was  then  minister  from 
the  court  of  Berlin.     In  the  dedication.  Hare  says  of  this  sermon : 

"  In  my  own  eves  Its  chief  value  is,  tbat  it  formed  a  new  link  in  our  fricnJ- 
ship.  From  the  Ver}-  first,  indeed,  vou  had  received  me  with  that  Irank  and 
gracious  cordiality  which  I  have  so  frequently  found  in  your  countrymen: 
from  the  vcn-  first,  we  both  found  that  wo  wore  bound  tOL't-ther  by  our  com- 
mon admiration  and  love  for  Niohuhr.  lint  thi.s  termoii_.  you  saidat  the  tuuc, 
convinced  you  that  there  was  a  still  more  intimate  principle  of  union  between 

U3."* 

*  Such  a  notice  as  that  quoted  above  reveals  in  a  very  pleasing  light  the 


176  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

What  the  value  of  this  friendship  was  to  Hare,  -^vill  be  partly  un- 
derstood by  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  published  letters  of  the 
late  Dr.  Arnold,  some  of  which  are  addressed  to  Eunsen,  while  in 
others  he  frequently  speaks  of  hirn.  Ko  higher  compliment  could 
be  paid  to  Bunsen  than  tliat  wliicli  is  paid  by  Hare,  when  he  says, 
in  this  dedication,  that  his  "  friendship  was  the  most  precious  part 
of  the  treasure  he  brought  away"  from  Rome.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered by  some  of  our  readers,  that  some  of  Bunsen's  most  valuable 
recent  contributions  to  the  knowledge  of  Christian  antiquity,  have 
been  affectionately  dedicated  to  Archdeacon  Hare. 

Returning  from  the  continent  in  the  latter  end  of  1833,  Hare 
proceeded  to  take  up  his  residence  at  the  rectory  of  Herstmonceux. 
Doubtless,  to  such  a  genial  lover  of  nature  and  of  all  homely  pleas- 
ures and  virtues,  there  must  have  been  much  to  please  and  to  sat- 
isfy in  thus  returning  to  spend  his  days,  as  a  country  clergy- 
man, near  his  patrimonial  home,  and  to  preach  in  the  village  church 
to  which  he  had  been  taken  in  his  childhood,  and  which  stood  in  the 
graveyard  where  the  dust  of  his  fathers  reposed.  Yet  it  is  not 
easy  to  imagine  a  more  seemingly  unlikely  training  for  the  office 
of  teaching  his  congi-egation  of  country-folk,  poor  and  unlettered 
tillers  of  the  soil,  than  to  have  been  engaged  so  many  years 
as  classical  lecturer  at  Cambridge,  and  select  preacher  before  the 
choicest  audiences  of  the  University.  Nevertheless,  he  appears  to 
have  been  both  a  happy  and  a  useful  man  at  what  he  loved  to  call 
his  "  dear  Herstmonceux."  This  retirement,  with  its  quiet  duties, 
and  tender,  holy  memories,  seems  to  have  satisfied  his  heart's  desire, 
so  that,  when  other  and  richer  preferment  was  offered  to  him,  he 
declined  it.  And  how  well  he  followed  in  his  brother's  steps — how 
successfully  he  endeavoured  to  accommodate  himself,  in  his  style  of 
preaching,  to  the  simplest  of  his  village  congregation,  without  fall- 
ing below  the  edification  of  the  few  families  of  the  gentry  or  squire- 
Christian  character  of  Bunsen,  and  reminds  us  of  a  passage  in  Hare's  "Guesses 
at  Truth,"  which  might  have  expressed  the  experience  of  a  Wesleyan  Methodist: 
"In  a  regenerate  world,  the  bars  and  bolts  -ft-hich  sever  and  estrange  man  from 
mau,  -vvould  hurst  like  the  doors  of  St.  Taul's  prison  atPhilippi,  r;nd  every  man's 
bonds  would  be  loost.  Something  of  the  kind  may  be  seen  even  now,  in  the 
open-hearted  confidence  and  affection  which  prevail  almost  at  sight  among 
Buch  as  find  themselves  united  to  each  other  by  the  love  of  a  common  Saviour — 
a  confidence  and  affection  foreshowing  the  blessed  communion  of  saints." 
{Guesses,  fj-c,  First  Series,  pp.  lSl-2.)  It  is  easy  to  understand  how  readily  and 
how  firmly  Hare  and  Euusen  would  beconie  united  to  each  other  in  friendship, 
if  it  is  true,  as  Arnold  says  more  than  once  in  his  correspondence,  that  there 
was  a  very  singular  resemblance,  in  character  and  disposition,  between  Bunsen 
and  Hare'a  brother  Augustus  William. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  ITl 

archy  who  might  attend  his  ministry,  is  attested  by  the  two  volumes 
which  he  published  of  his  parish-sermons.  There  is  internal  evi- 
dence, moreover,  in  these  sermons,  that  as  pastor  no  less  than  as 
preacher,  in  his  ministrations  to  sick,  and  poor,  and  dying,  he  ful- 
filled the  calling  of  his  office. 

In  1840,  he  was  appointed  Archdeacon  of  Lewes,  such  being  the 
title  ofthe  archidiaconal  district  in  which  llerstmonceux  is  situated, 
one  of  the  two  into  which  the  diocese  of  Chichester  is  divided.  This 
is  a  High- Church  diocese,  on  the  whole,  and  Mr.  Manning,  a  very 
High- Churchman,  who  has  since,  alas !  become  a  pervert  to  Rome,  was 
the  other  archdeacon.  The  principles  of  the  new  archdeacon  must 
have  been  unacceptable  to  not  a  few  of  the  clergy  of  the  district. 
At  the  archdeacon's  visitation  in  1835,  Avhen  but  recently  come  into 
the  diocese,  having  been  appointed  to  preach  at  Hastings,  he  ad- 
dressed the  assembled  clergy  on  the  subject  of  the  weakness  and 
strength  of  their  Church,  probing  its  faults  and  exposing  its  infirmi- 
ties with  no  faltering  band.  While  he  maintained  that  episcopacy 
is  indispensable  to  the  perfect  development  of  the  idea  of  the 
Church,  and  is  of  apostolical  institution,  he  denied  absolutely  that 
it  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  a  Christian  Church.  "  I  cannot," 
he  says,  "  discover  the  shadow  of  a  word  in  the  gospels  to  counte- 
nance "  this  idea.  "  Feeble  and  flimsy,"  he  proceeds,  "  as  are  the 
Scriptural  arguments  on  which  the  Romanists  maintain  the  inalien- 
able primacy  of  St.  Peter,  they  are  far  more  specious  and  plausible 
than  those  derived  from  the  same  source,  on  the  strength  of  which 
it  has  been  attempted  to  establish  the  absolute  necessity  of  episco- 
pacy to  the  existence  of  a  Christian  Church."  "  Let  us  rejoice," 
he  says  a  little  afterward,  "  that  the  salvation  which  Christ  wrought 
for  his  people,  is  not  tied  to  any  one  form  of  Church  government 
or  other — to  anything  that  mati  can  set  up,  or  that  man  can  pull 
down.  Let  us  rejoice  that  in  Christ  Jesus  neither  episcopacy  avail- 
eth  anything,  nor  anti-episcopacy,  but  a  new  creature."  Subse- 
quently, he  attributes  the  estrangement  of  so  many  of  i\\Q,  people 
of  England  from  the  Episcopal  clergy  and  the  established  Church, 
among  other  principal  causes,  to  the  dry,  unspiritual,  unedifying 
character  of  the  preachuag  of  the  clergy  in  former  days.  He  speaks 
of  these  as  having  been  "  too  often  nothing  but  the  dry  husks  of  di- 
dactic morality — often  nothing  but  the  parings  and  scrapings  of 
controversial  theology,  delivered  in  a  language,  three-fourths  of 
which  the  people  could  not  understand,  made  up  of  long-tailed  words 
of  Latin  origin,  which  would  have  been  almost  as  intelligible  to 
them  in  their  original  as  in  their  derivative  form — and  in  involved 
logical  sentences,  which  they  were  utterly  unable  to  disentangle." 


178  -  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

The  archdeacon,  further  on,  refers  to  the  condition  of  the  great  towns 
of  England,  for  the  benefit  of  which  he  aflirms  that,  "  for  scores  of 
years,  next  to  nothing  was  done  by  the  Church  or  the  state  of  En- 
gland; that  which  was  done,  being  done  almost  entirely  by  members 
of  the  dissenting  communions." 

Having  thus  pointed  out  the  practical  errors  and  shortcomings  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  he  then  proceeded  to  indicate  some  of  the 
causes — the  "  hindrances  and  disadvantages"  connected  with  the 
actual  condition  of  the  Church — v>-hich  had  contributed  to  produce 
such  results.  Of  these  he  mentions  three — the  want  of  "  a  regular 
governing  and  representative  council,"  a  rightly  constituted  and 
regulated  "  convocation,"  "  the  manner  in  which  the  highest  clerical 
dignities  were  filled  up  during  the  last  century,  sometimes  with  po- 
litical partisans,  sometimes  with  persons  whose  sole  claims  lay  in 
certain  accidents  of  personal  connexion,  sometimes — and  this  was 
almost  the  best  case — with  men  distinguished  [merely]  for  theologi- 
cal, or,  it  may  be,  classical  learning;"  and  "the  broad  and  almost 
impassable  line  of  demarcation  drawn  between  the  clergy  and  the 
laity,  as  if  they  were  two  distinct  castes,  with  totally  different 
offices,  each  of  them  to  be  carefully  barred  out  from  encroaching  on 
the  other."* 

AVe  have  given  so  full  an  outline  of  the  principal  portions  of  this 
sermon,  not  merely  as  characteristic  of  the  candour  and  liberality 
of  Archdeacon  Hare,  and  of  the  plain-spoken  fidelity  with  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  admonish  his  brother-clergymen,  but  as  indic- 
ative of  the  position  held  by  himself,  and  by  Broad  Churchmen 
generally,  in  reference  to  Church  policy  and  polity.  The  "  dis- 
tinctive character "  of  this  party,  ^Ir.  Conybeare  says,  "  is  the  de- 
sire of  comprehension,"  and  their  "  watchwords  are  charity  and 
toleration."  Assuredly,  within  certain  necessary  limits,  this  is  the 
only  character  which  can  be  wisely  or  safely  sustained  by  the  mem- 
bers of  a  national  Church  establishment.  The  aim  of  the  strict 
High- Church  party,  those  who  believe  in  apostolical  succession  and 
exclusive  salvation,  and  who  deliver  over  dissenters  to  "uncove- 
nanted  mercies,"  must  be  to  secure  uniformity  of  creed,  ritual,  and 
all  external  Church  action,  as  their  only  means  and  index  of  unity. 
But  the  motto  of  the  Broad  Churchman  is  rather  unity  in  variety, 
and  variety  in  order  to  unity.  This  is  the  position  which  Arch- 
deacon Hare  maintained  with  increasing  earnestness  to  the  last,  and 
which  he  has  especially  contended  for  in  a  sermon  on  the  "  Unity  of 

•  Victory  of  Faith  and  other  Sermons,  p.  322,  ami  pp.  333-342.  Erastianism, 
patronage,  and  the  dogma  of  the  priesthood  are,  briefly,  the  hindrances  and 
evils  indicated  above. 


1856.3  Julius  Charles  Hare.  179 

the  Church,"  and  its  introductory  dedication  to  Archdeacon  Man- 
ning, (who  had  advocated  the  opposite  view,)  and  in  the  notes  on 
this  sermon  and  dedication,  which  will  be  found  (both  sermon  and 
notes)  in  the  two  volumes  of  the  "ilission  of  the  Comforter."  The 
same  view  is  also  maintained  in  his  •"  Contest  with  Rome."  While, 
however,  on  this  point,  and  on  the  associated  questions  of  the  sacra- 
ments and  the  priesthood,  differing  from  the  Homeward  section  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  the  Broad  Church  agrees  with  the  High 
Church  of  all  grades,  from  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  and  Dr.  Pusey 
downward,  in  desiring  to  see  Convocation  revived,  and  the  Church 
enabled  to  take  independent  action.  On  this  point  Hare  long  anti- 
cipated the  recent  movement,  and  he  continued  steadfastly  to  advo- 
cate the  same  view.  Only  it  was  his  desire — as  it  is  that  of  every 
Broad  Churchman — to  see  the  laity  conjoined  with  the  clergy  in 
Convocation,  and  the  clergy  themselves  much  more  fairly  and  ade- 
quately represented  than  according  to  the  actual  model.  The  evan- 
gelical section  of  the  English  clergy  generally  differ  both  from  the 
High  Church  and  the  Broad  Church,  in  regard  to  this  question, 
deprecating  the  restoration  of  the  Convocation  to  functional  life. 
The  reason  of  this  is,  that  Avhile,  on  the  one  hand,  they  lack  breadth 
and  boldness  of  view,  such  as  would  lead  them  to  contend  for  a  re- 
modelled Convocation  adequately  representative  of  both  the  laity 
and  the  gi-cat  body  of  the  clergy ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  feel  a 
shrewd  fear  and  strong  foreboding  lest,  as  the  Convocation  is  ac- 
tually constituted,  the  learning,  eloquence,  and  general  ability  of 
the  predominating  High-Chm'ch  element  should  prove  utterly  de- 
structive to  the  prospects  of  evangelical  religion  in  the  Church  of 
England. 

Hare's  twenty  years  of  life,  after  his  settlement  at  Herstmon- 
ceux,  were  years  of  quiet  retirement,  but  yet  of  great  mental  ac- 
tivity. His  attention  was  wakcfully  alive  to  all  the  important  ques- 
tions of  the  day,  affecting  the  religion  and  social  condition  of  the 
nation,  and  especially  the  interests  of  the  Church  of  England.  He 
evidently  felt  it  to  be  his  particular  duty  to  do  battle  against  the 
progress  of  Tractarianism  and  of  Bomanizing  errors.  While  a 
recluse  student  at  Cambridge,  and  conversant  with  the  great  IVipish 
writers  more  than  with  Popery  itself,  he  showed  that  indulgence  to 
Popery  which  is  sho^vn  by  so  many  scholars.  He  under.=tooil  its 
heresies  and  rightly  estimated  its  usurpations ;  but  he  admired  the 
glory  and  power  of  its  earlier  history;  he  symi»utlilzed,  to  a  certain 
extent,  with  its  love  of  ritual  beauty  and  irplendour ;  and  could  not 
be  insensible  to  the  musical  power  and  pomp  of  its  services.  Indeed, 
to  admire  music  and  painting,  sculpture  and  architecture  was  (liter- 


180  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

ally)  a  part  of  Hare's  religion,  as  it  was  a  part  of  his  creed,  a  favourite 
tenet  of  Lis  "  broad"  churchisra,  that  music,  painting,  and  all  the  arts 
not  only  may,  but  should,  be  made  tributary  to  religion.  To  culti- 
vate his  taste  was  a  dictate  of  his  piety.  And  with  what  a  keen  and 
exquisite  relish  he  had  studied  the  works  of  the  masters  of  ai-t  of  all 
schools,  but  especially  of  those  Italian  masters  whose  genius  was 
employed  upon  sacred  subjects,  will  be  remembered  by  all  who  have 
read  the  "  Guesses  at  Truth."  It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  his  jesthet- 
ical  tastes,  as  well  as  his  catholic  sympathies  as  to  all  things  human 
and  humanizing,  should  have  disposed  him  to  regard  with  as  much 
leniency  as  was  possible  in  a  good  Protestant,  the  errors  and  sins  of  the 
Church  of  Home,  more  particularly  in  the  ages  preceding  the  Refor- 
mation. For  like  reasons,  he  would  be  disposed  to  regard  with  indul- 
gence the  earlier  movements  of  the  Oxford  High- Church  party.  But 
he  never  seems  to  have  vacillated  in  his  principles  on  these  subjects. 
His  acquaintance  with  mediaeval  and  modern  history,  his  love  of 
liberty  and  abhorrence  of  despotism,  his  iiidependent  spirit  of  inves- 
tigation, which  led  him  as  strongly  to  require,  as  he  freely  conceded, 
the  right  of  private  judgment,  and  his  profound  admiration  of  the 
character  of  the  German  and  English  reformers,  especially  of  Luther, 
all  these  things  constituted  for  him  a  seven-fold  shield  against  the 
influence  of  Romish  principles  and  Romeward  tendencies.  His 
visit  to  Rome  in  1S3:),  of  tlie  effect  of  which  upon  his  mind  he 
speaks  in  his  later  editions  of  the  "  Guesses  at  Truth,  First  Series," 
seems  to  have  added  depth  and  vividness  to  his  convictions  of  the 
essential  evil  and  necessary  curse  of  Romanism ;  and  it  may  be 
justly  aflirmed,  that  during  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life  Hare  was 
the  most  independent,  fearless,  effective,  and  in  every  way  accom- 
plished opponent  of  Tractariau  sophistry  and  bigotry,  and  of  Roman 
audacity  and  assumption,  to  be  ioxmd  in  the  ranks  of  the  English 
clergy.  His  "  Mission  of  the  Comforter,"  and  his  "  Contest  with 
Rome,"  are  mainly  controversial.  He  was  cut  off  in  the  miilst  of 
this  work ;  his  last  charge,  delivered  nut  long  before  his  death,  having 
been  a  powerful  and  energetic  admonition,  suited  to  the  needs  of  his 
Church.  "What  his  feelings  were  with  reference  to  this  work,  and 
how  his  aspect  toward  Romanism  had  become  changed  in  the  course 
of  years,  is  partly  indicated  in  his  Guesses  at  Truth,  First  Series, 
pp.  •230-237,  pp.  2S-30,  and  pp.  51,  52. 

Mr.  Elliott,  in  his  funeral  seiinon  on  Archdeacon  Hare,  justly 
says,  in  reference  to  his  archidiaconal  charges : 

"  In  thorn,  very  conspicuous,  was  the  genuine  and  outspoken  love  of  what  he 
held  to  be  truth  and  ric^htoousnoss.  acrompauicd  by  a  largeness  of  heart  in 
seeking  and  disceniinij  all  the  good  that  could  be  found  in  all.     Some  of  us 


]856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  181 

•were  of  opinion  that  his  generosity  of  praise  precluded  him  from  the  equal 
discernment  of  evil ;  and  that  his  love  of  peace,  which  liad  its  roots  in  his 
heart,  attempted  unions  which  too  great  dillerence  of  principles  rendered 
impossible." 

This  is  a  feature  of  his  character  which  must  be  borne  in  mind  in 
estimating  his  conduct;  and  it  may  assist  us  to  understand  his  grief 
and  surprise  at  the  ultimate  secession  of  Archdeacon  Manning,  (which 
yet  was  in  itself  the  natural  termination  of  his  previous  course,)  his 
unqualified  praise  of  Maurice,  and  his  undiscriminating  venera- 
tion for  Coleridge,  in  whom  he  seems  only  to  have  regarded  the 
goodness  and  wisdom  which  were  apparent,  and  to  some  extent  pre- 
dominant, in  his  writings,  without  caring  to  notice  the  error  and  evil 
which  were  sometimes  intermingled,  and  oftener  still,  thickly  set  in 
tangled  depths  behind  or  underneath,  in  the  shape  of  notes,  appen- 
dices, (fcc.  Acute  as  Hare  was,  and  energetically  as  he  opposed  what 
he  regarded  as  pernicious  and  threatening  error  or  heresy,  he  had  no 
delight  in  hunting  for  error  through  abstrusities  of  thought  and  lan- 
guage, or  in  beating  the  bush  of  m3'sticism  to  drive  it  into  open  day ; 
and  sometimes,  like  John  Wesley,  he  suffered  his  charity  to  blindfold 
his  acuteness. 

Hare  had,  for  some  years  before  his  death,  been  subject  to  a  very 
painful  internal  disease.  Its  returns  had  latterly  become  increas- 
ingly frequent  and  severe,  and  one  of  these  carried  him  off  on  the 
2od  of  January,  1S55,  at  Herstmonceux.  He  died  in  the  faith  and 
consolation  of  the  Gospel.  His  last  clear  w"ords  were  remarkable.  In 
answer  to  the  question  how  he  would  be  moved,  he  said,  in  a  voice 
more  distinct  and  strong  than  he  had  reached  for  several  past  days, 
with  his  eyes  raised  toward  heaven,  and  a  look  of  indescribable 
brightness,  "  Upwards  !  Upwards  !  "  His  age  was  fifty-nine.  We 
have  already,  in  the  foregoing  sketch,  afforded  our  reader  the  means 
of  forming  some  estimate  of  the  position,  character,  and  accomplish- 
ments of  Archdeacon  Hare,  whom,  so  long  as  he  lived,  the  pub- 
lic rightly  regarded  as  the  principal  and  ablest  representative  of  the 
loose  and  somewhat  nebulous  party  known  as  the  Broad  Chm-ch. 
We  should  very  insufficiently  perform  our  task,  however,  if  we  dil 
not  add  some  more  specific  remarks  upon  his  character  and  quali- 
fications as  philosopher,  critic,  controversialist,  and  religious  teacher. 

We  begin  with  Hare's  philosophy,  for  philosophy  should  lie  at  the 
basis  of  criticism,  and  the  truths  which  it  is  in  search  of,  or  which  it 
professes  to  have  found,  are,  fur  the  most  part,  such  as  religiou 
rather  assumes  than  e.xpressly  reveals,  although  consistency  with 
the  plain  teachings  and  implications  of  Hivine  revelation  is  the 
highest  test,   so  far  as   it  can  be  applied,  of  the  correctness  of 


182  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

philosophical  conclusions.  We  have  already  seen  how  emphatic- 
ally Hare  acknowledges  his  obligations  to  the  teaching  and  influence 
of  Coleridge.  Such  acknoAvledgmcnts  are  very  thickly  scattered 
over  his  tvritings.  Indeed,  he  quotes  Coleridge  expressly,  and  in  a 
vray  of  full  and  exact  citation,  not  only  more  frequently  than  any 
other  uninspired  Avriter,  but  in  his  notes  to  the  "Mission  of  the  Com- 
forter," more  frequently  than  the  Scriptures  themselves,  and  he 
yields  to  him  an  authority  and  reverence,  after  the  sacred  writers, 
only  inferior,  if  inferior,  to  that  which  he  pays  to  Luther.  From 
this,  and  from  Hare's  eulogies  of  his  brother-in-law,  31aurice,  it  has 
been  very  naturally  inferred  by  many,  that  Hare  had  fully  embraced 
Coleridge's  peculiar  philosophical  and  metaphysical  views.  Hence, 
not  only  by  the  writers  in  the  "  English  llcview,''  but  by  others,  he  has 
been  involved  along  with  Coleridge,  Maurice,  Sterling,  Francis 
Newman,  and  even  Blanco  White,  in  one  common  sentence  of  undis- 
criminating  condemnation.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  philoso- 
phy of  Coleridge  and  of  ^Maurice  has  shaped  their  theology,  and  been 
at  the  root  of  their  religious  heresies.  Hence  it  would  be  very 
natural  to  expect,  that  if  Hare  agreed  with  them  in  philosophy,  he 
■vrould  at  any  rate  approximate  toward  them  in  his  theological  views. 
If,  therefore,  justice  is  to  be  done  to  him,  it  is  a  vital  inquiry  to 
what  extent  his  philosophical  views  coincided  with  those  of  Cole- 
ridge. It  is  true,  indeed,  that  what  is  expressly  philosophical  does 
not  take  up  much  of  Hare's  writings  ;  but  the  inquiry  may  not  be  the 
less  vital  and  important  on  that  account.  It  is  plain  that  he  had 
a  settled  philosophy,  and  that  his  philosophy  imbued  his  criticism, 
and  gave  a  hue  and  tone  to  his  theology.  Nor  can  his  relation  to 
Coleridge  and  to  English  theology  bo  understood,  or  a  complete  view  of 
his  character  and  genius  be  gained,  unless  this  inquiry  be  determined. 
Hare  calls  himself  one  of  Coleridge's  "  pupils ;"  yet  we  doubt  if 
he  was  one  of  his  disci})Ie3.  It  is  probable  that  Coleridge  had  not 
finally  settled  his  philosophico-thoological  views  until  Hare  had  for 
some  time  been  an  inde{)cndent  student  of  German  literature  and 
philosophy.  It  is  certain  that  the  "  Aids  to  Reflection  "  were  not 
published  until  Hare's  principles  were  determined,  and  his  position 
as  a  thinker  and  scholar  fixed.  In  ISIG,  Coleridge,  shattered  in 
body,  all  but  wrecked  in  mind,  and  palsied  in  moral  power  through 
his  terriijle  vice  of  opium-eating,  found  refuge  and  guardianship 
under  the  vigilant,  though  tender  and  reverent  care  of  the  Gill- 
mans,  at  Highgate.  Hare  was  then  a  man  of  established  reputation  at 
Cambridge.  We  gather  from  the  "  Guesses  at  Truth,"  and  the 
"Notes  to  the  Mission  of  the  Comforter,"  that  Hare,  in  middle  age, 
had  been  for  many  years  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  philosophical 


185G.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  183 

writings  of  Kant,  Fichte,  Hegel,  and  Schclling,  and  that  ho  had 
exercised  upon  them  his  independent  powers  of  criticism.  Probably 
he  had  a  much  more  extensive  and  profound  acquaintance  for  many 
years  of  his  life,  with  not  only  German  theology,  but  German  phi- 
losophy, than  Coleridge  ever  had.*  It  is  scarcely  to  be  supposed, 
therefore,  that  in  the  maturity  of  his  own  powers  and  learning,  he 
would  adopt  at  second  hand  from  Coleridge  that  philosopher's  render- 
ing and  adaptation  of  Kant's  philosophy  of  Pm-e  Keason  and  Schcl- 
ling's  Dynamic  Philosophy. 

What  was  i]iQ  amount  of  Hare's  personal  intercourse  with  Cole- 
ridge, or  when  it  commenced,  we  know  not ;  but  it  is  not  difficult  to 
understand  the  general  reason  which  led  him  to  hail  with  gratitude 
Coleridge's  appearance  and  influence  as  a  moral  teacher  and  philo- 
sophical reformer.  Let  it  be  remembered  that,  during  the  latter  part 
of  the  last  century,  and  the  early  years  of  the  present,  the  received 
philosophy  in  England  was  sensationalism  in  intelligence  and 
thought,  and  utilitarianism  in  morals ;  and  that  the  received  theology 
contented  itself  with  dealing  forth,  when  didactic,  the  dry  husks  of 
a  powerless  moralism,  and  when  argumentative,  with  insisting  upon 
the  external  evidences  of  Christianity.  Grotius  and  Paley  (whose 
Moral  Philosophy  was  a  text-book  at  Cambridge)  were  the  oracles 
on  the  subject  of  the  Christian  evidences.  The  sermons  of  r>lair 
were  the  favourite  model  of  preaching.  True,  even  then  there 
were  such  men  as  Venn,  Simeon,  Newton,  and  Scott  in  the  pulpits 
of  the  Establishment,  but  these  were  stigmatized  as  enthusiasts  and 
Methodists.  There  was,  indeed,  also  the  learning,  logic,  orthodoxy, 
and  eloquence  of  Horsley.  But  his  eloquence  was  academic,  not 
popular;  his  orthodoxy  was  wholly  wanting  in  evangelical  feehng 
and  fervour  ;  his  preaching  utterly  lacked  the  spirit  of  holiness  and 
love.  It  was  a  heartless,  pithless,  powerless,  Christless  ago. 
Arianisra  and  Unitarianism,  always  found  alongside  of  sensational- 
ism and  materialism,  had  crept  like  a  fog-blight  over  half  the 
face  of  British  Christianity.  From  such  a  condition  of  things,  and 
from  all  its  causes  and  accessories,  the  spirit  of  such  men  as  Hare 
revolted.  AYe  can  scarcely  wonder  that  they  were  ready  to  fly  for 
refuge  from  Condillac  and  Priestley  to  Kant;  from  the  cold,  agucy 
flat  of  British  thought  and  feeling  to  the  transcendental  heights  of 

**  Writing  in  February,  1S49,  Hare  says,  in  bis  "  letter  to  the  editor  of  tho 
Kn-lisL  Review,"  "That  tlicre  i.s  such  a  thing  as  Gorman  faith,  that  there  aro 
precious  masses  of  German  thought,  I  Icnow,  from  an  experience  of  more  than 
thirty  years,  for  which  I  shall  ever  bo  thankful."  It  follows  from  this  that  his 
aifect  ami  independent  acquaintance  with  German  philosophy  and  theology  must 
have  commenced  at  least  as  early  as  181b'. 


184  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

Germanism,  with  all  their  mistiness.  Nay,  even  the  idealistic 
egotism  of  the  He;::;elian3  would  seem  less  repelling  than  a  fatalistic 
materialism.  Under  such  feelings,  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  the 
appearance  of  a  teacher  like  Coleridge  would  be  welcomed.  He  was 
the  declared  enemy  of  the  sensational  and  utilitarian  philosophers. 
He  was  reputed  to  have  mastered  the  German  philosophy,  to  have 
abstracted  from  it  what  was  sound  and  true,  and  to  have  attained  to 
a  clear  vision,  from  the  utmost  height  of  human  thought,  of  the  ulti- 
mate unity,  the  perfect  and  vital  harmony,  of  philosophy  and  theol- 
ogy, of  the  revelation  of  reason  and  the  revelation  of  God.  He  pro- 
fessed himself  a  devout  and  orthodox  Christian  believer.  He  spoke 
on  Christian  subjects  in  a  corresponding  tone  of  reverence.  He  read 
and  loved  the  works  of  Leighton,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  others  of  the 
old  divines  of  the  English  Church.  He  decried  dry  orthodoxy,  and 
taught  that  a  mere  dogmatic  faith  was  dead.  He  spoke  of  spiritual 
influences,  and  magnified  the  internal  and  spiritual  work  of  Christi- 
anity. Thus  opposing  himself  equally  to  dry,  dogmatic  orthodoxy, 
and  to  shallow,  flippant  infidelity,  he  appeared  as  a  new  star  in  the 
heavens,  and  soon  was  surrounded  by  others,  enough  to  form  a  con- 
stellation. These  rejoiced  to  bo  found  at  the  opposite  pole  to  the 
luminaries  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  who  were  unhappily  distinguish- 
ed at  that  time  for  a  sceptical  and  irreverent  spirit. 

We  believe  that  the  foregoing  remarks  fairly  account  for  the 
position  which  Coleridge  gained  at  the  head  of  a  school,  and  for  the 
fact  that  Hare  early  enrolled  liimself  among  the  number  of  his  admir- 
ers. This  he  would  do  witliout  pledging  himself  beforehand  to  his 
peculiar  views  in  philosophy  and  thcologj.  What  those  views  were 
it  is  not  our  present  business  minutely  to  inquire.  They  were  not 
given  to  the  world  in  anything  like  a  fair  outline  until  many  years 
bad  passed  away;  and  though  the  world  was  eagerly  and  wonder- 
ingly  expectant,  they  were  never  given  but  in  outline  or  in  frag- 
ments. Whore  they  arc  most  peculiar — where  they  profess  to  solve 
the  perilous  and  profound  difllculties  which  surround  the  estate  of 
man — they  become  particularly  and  impenetrably  abstruse.  That 
Hare,  in  his  repeated  commendations  of  Coleridge,  means  to  commit 
himself  to  this  incomprehensible  philosophy,  we  cannot  believe.  His 
o^vn  perspicuous  intellect  and  pure  transparency  of  style  must  be 
taken  as  evidence  that  this  could  never  be.  It  is  remarkable,  too, 
that  he  never  quotes  or  refers  to  these  abstruse  passages.  Nor  can 
we  imagine  anything  likely  to  be  more  abhorrent  to  his  taste  than  to 
be  com])clled  to  seek  a  path  through  such  dark  and  tangled,  thorny 
and  fruitless  thickets  and  wildernesses  of  thought  as  some  of  Cole- 
ridge's notes   and  appendices.     But  what  Hare  chiefly  valued  in 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  185 

Coleridge,  was  his  noble  ideal  of  thought  and  purpose,  his  reverent 
spirit,  his  far-seeing,  practical  wisdom,  his  critical  ond  intuitive 
sagacity,  his  union  of  deep  learning,  fine  taste,  and  recluse  habits, 
■with  philosophic  breadth  of  view  and  vridc  human  sympathies. 

One  main  point,  perhaps  tJie  main  point,  of  Coleridge's  Intel- 
lectual Philosophy  was  the  Kantian  distinction  between  the  Reason 
and  the  Understanding.  Upon  this  distinction  Coleridge  grafted 
his  peculiar,  and.  as  we  think,  unchristian  doctrine  of  the  Logos. 
Many  Avho  have  not  followed  Coleridge  in  the  theological  doctrine, 
have  agi-eed  with  him  in  reference  to  the  ractajjhysical  distinction. 
The  understanding  is  the  logical  faculty  in  man,  the  reason  is  the 
intuitive  faculty,  which  stands  face  to  face  with  spiritual  and  essen- 
tial truth ;  and  the  immediate  object  of  which  is,  as  Mr.  Morell 
says,  "  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true."  The  intuitive  faculty 
in  man  has  thus  assigned  to  it  an  entirely  separate  sphere,  and  that 
the  very  highest.  It  dwells  in  a  region  apart,  elevated  above  that 
of  the  logical  understanding,  and  is  ([uite  independent  of  it.  Being 
thus  independent  of  the  understanding,  it  is  independent,  so  far  as 
the  morally  good  and  right  is  concerned,  of  revelation  also,  (which 
must  be  presented  to  it  through  the  understanding,)  except  in  so 
fiJr  as  it  may,  by  its  own  light  and  authority,  approve  and  warrant 
that  which  revelation  brings  before  it.  For  reason,  understood  as 
above  defined,  must,  v,-hether  in  matters  of  taste,  criticism,  or  morals, 
be  the  supreme  judge,  and  be  a  law  unto  itself  Thus  the  scintilla- 
ations  of  genius  and  the  light  of  piety  are  but  diflerent  manifesta- 
tions of  the  same  faculty.  How  well  this  accords  with  Coleridge's 
supplementary  doctrine,  that  reason  is  the  light  in  man  of  the  divine 
Logos,  and  how  naturally  it  is  developed  into  ]\Iauricc's  doctrine  of 
the  identification  of  the  \\'"ord  or  Son  of  God,  with  all  men,  vrill  be 
readily  seen.  How  nearly  related  it  is  to  the  theories  of  the  modern 
Pantheists  is  no  less  obvious. 

How  far  Hare  agreed  with  Coleridge  as  to  the  distinction  in  ques- 
tion it  is  hard  to  say,  though  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  did  so  to 
a  certain  extent.  Coleridge  himself  distinguishes  all  men  into  two 
classes,  "besides  which,"  he  says,  ''it  is  next  to  impossible  to  con- 
ceive a  third.  The  one  considers  reason  a  quality  or  attribute ;  the 
other  considers  it  a  power." — (^Sec  Literary  Remains,  vol.  iii,  p.  33.) 
Hare  evidently  belonged  to  the  latter  class,  and  so  far  he  agreed 
with  Coleridge.  It  is  a  main  feature  in  his  philosophy  to  take 
knowledge  in  man  of  instinctive  or  '•intuitive"'  principles,  which 
constitute  his  laws  of  spiritual  activity  and  feeling,  v,-hich  operate 
before  they  are  recognised,  which  may  be  in  continual  operation, 
and  yet  never  bo  recognised,  which  can  never  be  adequately  under- 

FouRTii  Sliue?,  Vol.  VUL— 12 


186  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

stood,  and  in  attempting:;  to  apprehend  and  define  which  the  under- 
standing is  extremely  liable  to  positive  and  serious  error;  but 
which,  nevertheless,  imply  the  deepest  truths  and  most  vital  myste- 
ries of  our  being.  These  intuitive  principles  Hare  follows  Coleridge 
in  calling  ideas,  and  in  referring  to  reason  as  the  source  or  "  power" 
from  which  they  proceed.  The  abstractions  of  the  understanding,  as 
distinguished  from  these  ideas  of  the  reason,  are  termed  conceptions ; 
the  doctrine  being  that  no  conception  can  ever  be  an  adequate  or 
perfectly  true  exponent  of  an  idea.  These  ideas,  indeed,  though 
they  correspond  to  certain  profound  and  mysterious  truths — truths 
too  deep  to  be  sounded  by  the  plummet  of  the  human  understand- 
ing, are  not  themselves  so  properly  truths,  as,  to  use  Coleridge's 
words,  "truth-powers" — operative  or  productive  laws,  "monifesting 
themselves  and  their  reality  in  their  products."  Further,  Hare 
follows  Coleridge  in  maintaining  that  these  instincts,  intuitive  prin- 
ciples, or  laws  of  the  human  spirit,  arc  directly  from  God,  and  im- 
ply, if  we  could  but  learn  their  lesson  and  read  their  meaning,  divine 
and  essential  truths.  Such  a  "  truth-power,"  to_  give  one  striking 
instance,  is,  according  to  this  philosophy,  manV' sense  of  free-will, 
which  operates  from  the  beginning,  which  implies  a  mystery  not  to 
be  explained,  which,  though  it  be  denied,  is  not  the  less  operative, 
and  in  attempting  to  conceive  and  explain  which  men's  understand- 
ings have  fallen  into  grievous  error. 

That  such  were  Hare's  views  might  be  proved  by  many  citations 
from  his  "  Guesses  at  Truth,"  which,  indeed,  arc  pervasively  col- 
oured by  this  philosophy  of  iileas.  But  one  citation  vail  be  sufE- 
cient,  which  will  at  the  same  time  illustrate  Hare's  sentiments  as  to 
the  philosophy  of  Locke,  (whom  we  think  he  misunderstood,)  and  of 
his  successors. 

"  The  purport  of  the  E^say  on  the  Human  Understandin/j,  like  that  of  its 
unacknowlcilgecl  parent,  and  that  of  the  niunerous  fry  which  sprang  from  it, 
was  to  maintain  that  wc  have  noi'lf'a'*,  or,  what  amounts  to  the  «aiue  thinir, 
that  our  i-Icas  civc  nothing  more  iliau  abstractions,  defecated  by  divers  pro- 
cesses of  the  understanding. 

"  There  is  no  hope  of  arriving  at  truth,  until  we  have  leanit  to  acknow- 
ledge that  the  creatures  of  space  and  time,  are,  as  it  were,  so  manv  cliambers 
of  the  prison-house,  in  which  tlie  timeless,  spaceless  ideas  of  the  Eternal  Mind 
are  shut  up,  and  tliat  the  utmost  reach  of  abstraction  is,  not  to  create,  but  to 
liberate,  to  give  freedom  and  consciousness  to  that  which  existed  potentially 
and  in  embryo  before." — Gues.^cs,  &c.,  Second  Scries,  p.  219. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  indeed,  that  in  general  Hare  must  be 
described  as  a  transccndentalist  in  philosophy  ;  and  that  he  not  only 
agi-eed  thus  far  with  Coleridge,  but  admired  greatly  Coleridge's 
German  masters,  who  were  also  Ids  own.     He  speaks  in  the  highest 


1S56.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  187 

terms  not  only  of  Kant,  but  of  Fichte,  Hegel,  and  Schelling;  and 
one  object  of  his  "  Guesses  at  Truth"  is  manifestly  to  reproduce 
and  interpret  to  the  English  mind  some  of  the  profound  and  true 
ideas  (for  there  are  such)  brought  to  light  by  their  philosophical 
studies.  Still  it  is  plain  that  he  had  read  these  vrriters  discrimi- 
natively.  He  does  not  speak  as  if  he  had  adopted  the  pecuhar 
system  of  any  one  of  them ;  and  it  is  impossible  that  he  could  have 
agreed  •n'ith  them  all.  He  seems  to  have  abstracted  from  each  of 
them,  and  to  have  adapted  to  his  own  philosophy  that  which  ap- 
peared to  him  to  be  true.  How  far  he  acted  in  a  similar  way  with 
Coleridge  is  the  question.  "We  have  seen  to  what  extent  he  certainly 
agrees  with  him.  We  cannot,  however,  believe,  much  as  he  admired 
and  commended  him,  that  he  went  all  lengths  with  him.  For  ex- 
ample, Coleridge,  in  a  passage  of  his  Table- Talk,  with  which  many 
passages  in  his  writings  fully  accord,  speaks  of  "  that  higher  state,  to 
which  Aristotle  could  never  raise  himself,  but  which  was  natural  to 
Plato,  and  has  been  to  others,"  [himself,  for  instance,]  "  in  which  the 
understanding  is  distinctly  contemplated,  and,  as  it  were,  looked  dovm. 
upon  from  the  throne  of  actual  ideas,  or  li\Ting,  inborn,  essential  truchs." 
He  speaks  of  the  spirit's  ascending  into  "  the  empjTean  of  ideas."  He 
identifies  the  reason  with  the  divine  Logos,  making  Him,  in  this 
sense,  to  be  the  "  light  which  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into 
the  world."  He  denies,  as  many  have  learned  from  him  to  deny, 
the  possibility  of  a  revelation  ab  extra.  He  dares  even  to  speak  of 
the  Trinity  as  an  "idea,"  and  to  analyze  this  "idea"  in  such  a 
way  as  to  resolve  the  Tri-unity  into  what  is  really  no  better  than  a 
refined,  Platonized  Sabellianism — only  not  Sabellianism,  because 
not  allowed  to  be  conceived  under  any  conditions  of  time  and  space. 
Such  were  some  of  the  results  of  Coleridge's  peculiar  philosophy 
as  applied  to  solve,  or  as  used  to  measure  and  define,  the  mysteries 
of  being,  human  and  divine.*  To  these  results  we  cannot  believe, 
and  Avc  find  no  evidence  to  prove,  that  Hare  gave  in  his  aJI;esion. 
Nowhere  does  he  seem  to  make  reason  a  supreme,  intuitive  power, 
whose  sphere  is  above  and  aloof  from  that  of  the  understanding. 
Nor  does  his  nomenclature  uniformly  agree  with  that  of  the  Cole- 
ridgeans.  Sometimes,  indeed,  especially  in  his  "  Victory  of  Faith," 
he  appears  to  use  the  words  reason  and  understanding  in  senses 
almost  the  inverse  of  Coleridge's,  and  we  can  scarcely  avoid  con- 
cluding that  one  object  which  he  had  in  view  in  writing  that  series  of 
discourses  was  to  oppose  those  German  philosophers  who  identify 

"  Sec  the  disquisition  on  the  Reason  and  Understandinjr  in  the  "Aids  to  Ile- 
flcction,"  and  the  "  Notes  upon  English  Divines." — Literary  Remains,  vols,  iii  and 
iv,  pastim.  '  , 


188  Jtdius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

faith  and  reason,  and  to  show  that  the  highest  objects  of  faith  are 
Biich  as  reason,  whether  called  speculative  or  practical,  could  never 
by  itself,  or  Avilh  the  understanding  as  its  minister,  have  discov- 
ered, or  enahled  men  to  conceive. 

■  In  his '' Guesses  at  Truth,  First  Series,"  p.  113,  occur  the  fol- 
lowing connected  apothegmatic  passages : 

"  'Wlieii  the  pit  scats  itself  in  the  boxes,  the  gallery  v.ill  soon  drive  out  both, 
and  occupy  the  whole  of  the  house. 

"In  like  manner,  when  the  calculating,  expcdiential  understanding  Las 
.  superseded  the  consciencc'and  the  reason,  the  souses  soon  rush  out  from  their 
dens,  and  sweep  away  everything  before  them.  If  there  be  nothing  brighter 
than  the  retlected  light  of  the  moo!i,  the  wild  beasts  will  not  keep  in  their  lair. 
And  when  tliat  moon,  having  rcacht  a  moment  of  apparent  glory,  by  looking 
full  at  the  sun,  fancies  it  may  turn  away  trom  the  sun,  and  siill  have  light  in 
itself,  it  straightway  begins  to  wane,  and  ere  long  goes  out  altogether,  leaving 
its  worsbippers  in  the  darkness  which  they  had  vainly  dreamt  it  would  en- 
lighten. This  was  seen  in  the  Koman  empire.  It  was  seen  in  the  last  century 
all  over  Europe,  above  ail  in  France." 

In  this  latter  true  and  beautiful  passage  it  will  bo  observed  that 
the  conscience  is  adjoined  to  reason,  and  both  are  supposed  to  be 
enlightened  b}'  revelation,  directly  or  indirectly,  through  the  written 
word  or  through  tradition ;  reason  is  not  made  a  primary  light,  or 
independent  authority. 

Such  passages  ns  the  follovring  seem  to  be  explicit  in  their  oppo- 
sition to  the  dogma  of  the  separate  supremacy  of  the  reason,  and  are 
couched  in  phraseology  very  different  from  that  of  either  Kant  or 
Coleridge : 

"The  v,-ord  reason  is  o^ten  us.'d  to  signify  the  v.liole  complex  of  our  reflect- 
ive faculties;  while  at  other  times  it  is  restricted  to  the  logical  faculty,  or  the 
power  of  drawing  inferences.  In  the  former  sen^c  reason  is  much  less  likely 
to  err;  though  even  then  it  needs  to  be  continually  refrcshtand  replenish!  by 

influxes  from  the  imagination  and  the  heart In  the  latter  sense, 

reason  has  often  been  a  fruitful  parent  of  errour  and  mischief,  especially  since 
the  middle  of  the  last  century :  and  in  tliis  sense  I  have  used  th(^  word  when 
speaking  against  it.  When  nothing  more  than  tlie  mere  faculty  of  rcasoninjr, 
reason  i-  uiu.-t  faluMi' :  as  is  proved  by  the  myiiails  of  aliortions  and  :ni  -rowtlis 
in  the  history  of  philosophy  and  science.  This,  its  fallibility,  does  not  arise 
merely,  or  mainly,  from  slips  of  inaccuracy,  but  still  more  from  its  neglect  of 
those  corrections  and  adjustments  which  must  be  introduced  at  every  step, 
before  logical  inferences  can  become  scientitic  inductions." — Preface  to  Ser- 
mon entitled  "The  Children  of  Light,"  in  '■^Viclorij  of  Faith,"  p.  205. 
*♦**»*♦*» 

"  He  who  is  the  worthy,  satisfying  object  of  faith,  must  be  a  living  personal 
being,  a  boing  to  whom  we  stand  in  a  living  personal  relation,  who  acts  upon 
ns,  and  will  continue  so  to  <lo.  Nay,  in  its  higher  manitestations,  as  trust  in 
Him  in  wliom  we  believe,  Jaith  reipiires  not  merely  a  living  personal  god,  but 
a  pod  on  whose  love  we  can  rely,  ^ow  the  god  of  what  has  erroneously  been 
called  natural  religion,  is  not  such  a  c;o<l,  as  has  been  observed  already.  Ho 
is  a  bare  notional  abstraction,  devised  to  supply  a  ground  and  consistency  for 
the  truths  of  reason,    .     .     ,     but  standing  in  no  direct  personal  relation  to 


1856.3  Julius  Charles  Hare.  189 

man.  He  is  necessary,  indeed,  to  our  existence ;  but,  so  far  as  regards  our  after- 
life, it  is  the  same  thing  v.-hcthcr  there  be  such  a  god  or  no.  Hence  he  is  not 
an  object  of  faith,  but  solely  of  belief.  The  rcoson  may  be  brought  to  acknow- 
ledge him  ;  but  he  will  exercise  no  more  power  over  the  heart  and  will  than 
any  truth  of  geometry  or  ontology.  If  the  heart  is  to  be  stirred,  if  the  will  is 
to  be  roLisful  and  renewed,  faith  must  have  a  god  to  believe  in  who  is  not  like 
the  god  of  philosophy — a  shadowy  complex  of  negations  to  the  conditions  of 
time  and  space,  shrouded  in  the  abyss  of  eternity ;  but  a  god  who  cares  for 
his  creatures,  and  watches  over  them,  and  has  given  proof  that  he  does  so." — 
Victory  of  Faith,  pp.  140,  141.     Cf.  pp.  122,  123,  130. 

There  is  in  such  teaching  as  this  no  approximaiion  to  any  form  or 
modification  of  that  philosophy  of  Schelling  ^Yhich  Coleridge  vainly 
attempted  to  transform  and  transfigure  into  a  conformity  v,-ith  the 
spirit  and  doctrines  of  Christianity,  and  which  substitutes  for  faith 
in  a  personal  and  living  God,  the  "  intuition  by  reason  of  the  abso- 
lute.") No,  the  warm  pulses  of  Hare's  living  faith  would  have  ceased 
to  beat  in  the  chill  and  rarefied  atmosphere  of  that  transcendental 
peak  of  the  intuitional  philosophy  on  which  Schelling  and  his  fol- 
lowers had  chosen  their  abode. 

AVe  fear  some  of  our  readers  may  be  disposed  to  think  this  discus- 
sion more  curious  than  useful,  and  scarcely  necessary  in  order  io  form 
a  sufficiently  accurate  estimate  of  Hare  as  a  writer  and  teacher.  But 
we  confess  that,  in  our  judgment,  the  point  into  which  we  have  been 
inquiring  is  fundamental.  The  most  vital  errors  of  Coleridge,  and 
of  a  considerable  number  of  those  who  profess  to  belong  to  his  school, 
are  connected  with  the  distinction  they  make  between  reason  and 
understanding.  This  distinction,  itself  nearly  resembling  one  of  the 
peculiar  tenets  of  the  Alexandrian  neo-Platonism,  serves  them  as  a 
stock  on  which  they  graft,  if  we  might  not  more  properly  say  a  root 
from  which  they  develop  a  system  of  neo-Platonic  doctrine,  more 
or  less  complete  and  defined,  and  which  may  now  take  the  shape  of 
such  a  "  philosophy  of  religion"  as  that  which  has  been  taught  by 
Mr.  J.  D.  Morell,  or  again  may  be  logically  carried  out  into  such  a 
scheme  of  doctrine  as  that  taught  by  ^Ir.  Maurice  in  his  "  Theologi- 
cal Essays,"  which  are  only  a  fair  and  thorough-going  rcductio  ad 
absurdum,  as  evangelical  and  orthodox  Christians  may  be  pardoned 
for  considering  them,  of  germinal  principles  very  distinctly  to  be 
recognised  in  Coleridge's  writings.  It  could  not,  therefore,  but 
be  a  pertinent  and  an  important  inquiry  how  far  Hare  agreed 
with  Coleridge  on  this  point.  Hare  could  not  have  come  so  near 
as  he  does  to  the  evangelical  school,  if  he  had  believed  in  the  inde- 
pendent supremacy  of  reason,  apart  from  the  understanding,  as  the 
power  or  sense  whereby  we  ascertain  and  authenticate  beauty,  truth, 
and  goodness. 

Plato  might,  by  his  dialectic  science,  seek  after  to  KaXbv  Kayaddv, 


190  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

and  no  doubt  was  often  able  by  his  "  intuitions,"  common  to  him- 
self and  to  otiicrs,  to  expose  fulse  and  evil  notions,  and  to  bring  to 
light  that  which  was  good,  and  beautiful,  and  true.  But  surely  this 
is  no  reason  why  the  admirers  of  Plato  should,  at  this  time  of  day, 
strive  to  establish  a  system  which  makes  the  mind,  in  its  sense  of 
goodness,  truth,  and  beauty,  iiidupcndent  of  the  teachings  and  cor- 
rections of  the  reflective  and  logical  understanding.  iS^o  doubt  those 
have  en-edwho  have  recognised,  or  seemed  by  their  customary  lan- 
guages to  recognise,  nothing  in  man  but  the  powers  of  sensation  and 
of  reflection,  no  intuitive  activities  and  judgments,  no  primary  be- 
liefs, no  moral  sense  ;  some  of  whom  have  reasoned  about  the  soul 
as  if  it  were  merely  passive,  or  at  most  possessed  but  a  mechanical 
activity,  sustained  wholly  and  solely  by  influences  and  impulses 
from  without ;  while  others  have  seemed  to  suppose  that  logic  and 
reasoning  were  the  only  powers  by  which  it  is  to  bo  moulded  and 
formed,  to  be  swayed  and  controlled.  And  Coleridge,  no  doubt,  .so 
far  did  good  service  as  he  opposed  himself  to  such  ideas  as  these, 
although  he  seems  to  us  to  have  erred  in  the  estimate  which  he 
formed  of  Locke's  philosophy  as  related  to  these  ideas,  and  to  have 
greatly  exaggerated  the  danger  on  that  side  of  the  question,  while 
he  rushed,  in  the  other  direction,  into  equally  extreme  and  yet  more 
dangerous  error.  Hare  welcomed  Coleridge  as  taking  the  lead  in  a 
controversy  that  needed  to  bo  fought,  but  he  did  not  go  all  lengths  with 
him.  What  his  views  were  may  be  partly  gathered  from  the  quota- 
tions recently  given.  We  add  a  few  illustrative  extracts  here.  Of  the 
two  first,  taken  from  the  first  scries  of  "  Guesses  at  Truth,"  the 
former  is  an  apophthegm  not  from  the  pen  of  Ilare,  but  of  his  brother ; 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  he  fully  adopts  it  as  his  own. 

"  Tte  feeling  is  often  the  deeper  truth;  the  opinion  the  more  superficial 
one."— P.  257. 

"  On  the  other  hnnd,  historians  are  apt  to  vrrite  mainly  from  the  under- 
standing, and  therefore  presuuiptuoiuly  and  narrow-miiTdedl'v.  Dwellinij  amid 
abstractions,  the  umlcrstantling  has  no  cvi^  for  the  ricli  -i-arielics  of  real  life, 
but  only  sees  its  own  tbrnis  and  fiotion-;.  Hence  no  faculty  is  more  monoto- 
nous ;  a  Jew's  harp  itself  is  scarcely  more  so ;  wliile  the  imaainatiou  embraces 
and  comprehends  the  fidl,  perfect,  and  magnificent  diapason  of  nature." — 
P.  399. 

The  passages  Avhich  immediately  follow  are  from  the  "  Contest 
with  Rome,"  and  refer  to  Dr.  Kcwman:  ' 

"  Logic  is  ever  his  fiivorite  weapon,  his  harlequin's  sword,  with  which  he 
■works  whatever  transformations  he  ])leascs.  Now  lotric,  it  is  well  known,  or, 
rather,  the  abuse  and  per\ersion  of  logic,  has  ever  l)een  a  fniittul  source  of 
all  manner  of  errors.  P>y  logical  deductions  from  an  abstract  conception, 
■which  can  never  at  the  utmost  be  more  than  a  shadowy  ghost  or  a  skeleton 
of  a  living  idea,  the   physical  philosophy  of  antiquity  and  of  the  schoolmen 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  .  191 

was  led  into  those  extravagances  from  -whifih  Bacon  delivered  it  Bv  lojrical 
di'tluctions  from  premises  imperfectly  apprehended,  all  the  heresies  by  which 

the  Church  has  been  troubled  sprang  up Thus,  even  in  speculative 

matters,  logic  is  a  mere  Cyclops,  one-eyed,  looking  straight  before  it.  But 
gtill  more  delusive  is  its  guidance  in  practical  life.  .  .  .  The  great  use  of  our 
dialectic  faculty  is  to  serve  as  a  corrective  for  tlie  logical,  as  we  continually 
Boe  in  the  Platonic  dialogues,"  &c. — Pp.  107,8. 

"The  shallowness  of  this  passage  might  be  deemed  marvellous,  as  proceed- 
ing from  so  acute  a  logician,  were  it  not  continually  found  that  the  logical 
faculty  is  totally  distinct  from  the  apprehensive  and  the  intuitive,  and  ottcn 
Bubverslve,  or  at  least  perversive,  of  them." — P.  127. 

These  passages  are  not  only  characteristic  of  Hare,  but  express 
a  feeling,  or  rather  a  principle,  common  to  the  -whole  Coleridgean 
school.  It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  Hare  carried  his 
feeling  on  this  point  to  anything  like  the  absurd  lengths  to  v>-hich 
Maurice  goes,  M"ho  is  perpetually  pouring  contempt  on  logic,  and 
really  seems  to  consider  neither  the  faculty  nor  the  science  as  good 
for  anything.  On  the  contrary,  Hare  is  not  only  himself  a  master 
in  logic,  but  his  -writings  abound  with  allusions  which  show  how 
highly  he  valued  its  right  use,  and  how  much  he  enjoyed  its  skilful 
and  legitimate  display. 

We  have  been  considering  Hare  as  a  philosopher.  He  has  com- 
posed no  philosophical  treatise;  but  a  truly  philosophical  spirit 
pervades  all  his  writings.  He  is  not,  indeed,  abstruse  or  abstract: 
he  does  not  deal  in  metaphysical  terms  or  transcendental  jargon; 
but  apophthegms,  maxims,  reflections,  the  fruit  of  wide  reading, 
deep  thinking,  keen  observation,  and  intuitive  sagacity,  aided  by  a 
rich  fancy,  and  quickened  by  a  warm  and  genial  heart,  attest  him 
to  be  a  true  and  profound  philosopher.  His  "  Guesses  at  Truth  " 
are  a  repository  of  critical  essays  upon  many  subjects  both  of 
philosophy  and  literature,  intermingled  with  crystals  and  gems  of 
philosophic  thought  or  moral  sentiment. 

What  our  readers  have  already  learned  of  Hare  will  have  pre- 
pared them  to  expect  that  he  was  one  of  the  finest  and  most  genial 
of  critics.  Scarcely  anything,  except  the  pm-e  sciences,  seems  to  be 
omt  of  his  range.  He  appears  to  be  equally  famiUar  with  the  most 
various  themes,  and  alike  graceful,  wise,  and  witty  in  handling  them 
all.  His  versatile  genius  is  equally  prepared  to  discuss  poetry  and 
philosophy,  or  painting  and  sculpture,  or  the  drama  and  the  his- 
trionic art,  or  oratorios  and  even  operas;  (1)  while,  at  another  time. 
his  exact  erudition  is  as  remarkable  as  the  searching  keenness  of 
his  criticism,  when  he  is  exposing  the  ignorant  errors  in  a  reprint 
or  translation  of  some  old  divine  or  father,  printed  at  the  Oxford 
press !     . 

It  will  be  remembered  that,  although  Uare  would  certainly  have 


192  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

refused  to  be  called  an  Armiuian,  he  was  certainly  no  Calvinist. 
But  his  admiration  of  excellence,  ^vhcrcve^  found  and  of  every  kind, 
was  most  large-hearted  and  catholic: 

"  Calvin's  Commentaries:,  altuoufrh  they  are  almost  entirely  doctrinal  and 
practical,  taking  little  note  of  critical  and  pLilological  questions,  keep  much 
closer  to  the  text,  and  make  it  their  one  business  to  bring  out  the  meaning  of 
the  words  of  Scripture  with  fulne?^:  and  precision.  This  they  do  with  the  ex- 
cellence of  a  master  richly  endowed  with  the  word  of  wisdom  and  with  the 
word  of  knov/ledge  :  and  from  the  exemplary  union  of  a  severe  masculine  un- 
derstanding Y.ith  a  profound  insight  into  the  spiritual  depths  of  the  Scriptures, 
they  are  especially  calculated  to  be  useful  in  counteracting  the  en-oneous  ten- 
dencies of  an  age  when  we  seem  about  to  be  inundatetl  isith  ail  that  is  most 
fantastic  and  irrational  in  the  exegctical  mysticism  of  the  flithers,  and  arc  bid 
to  see  divine  powt'r  in  allegorical  cobwebs,  and  heavenly  lite  in  artificial  flow- 
ers."— Mi'ision  of  the  Comforter,  Note  II,  p.  4-19. 

[Luther's  words]  "  As  he  himself  has  somewhere  said  of  St.  Paul's  words, 
*  are  not  dead  words,  but  living  creatures,  and  have  hands  and  feet.'  It  no 
longer  surprises  us  that  the  man  who  wrote  and  spoke  thus,  although  no  more 
than  a  poor  monk,  should  have  been  mightier  than  the  Pope  and  the  Emper- 
or to  boot,  with  all  their  ho^ts  ecclesiastical  and  civil — that  the  rivers  of  living 
water  which  issued  from  him  shoidd  have  swept  half  Germany,  and  in  course 
of  time  tlie  chief  part  of  northern  Europe,  out  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness  into 
the  region  of  evangelical  light.*  No  day  in  spring,  when  life  seems  bursting 
from  every  bud,  and  gushing  from  every  pore,  is  fuller  of  lite  than  his  pages ; 
and  if  they  are  not  ■i\ithout  the  strong  breezes  of  spring,  these  too  have  to 
bear  their  part  in  the  work  of  purification." — Iliicl. 

"  Luther,  if  we  take  the  two  masses  of  his  writings,"  [German  and  Latin,] 
'•which  display  diil'erent  characters  of  style,  according  to  the  persons  and 
objects  they  are  designed  for — in  the  highest  qualities  of  eloquence,  in  the 
fiiculty  of  presenting  grand  truths,  moral  and  spiritual  ideas,  clearly,  vividly, 
in  words  which  elevate  and  enlighten  men's  minds,  and  stir  their  hearts,  and 
control  their  wills,  seems  to  be  incomparably  superior  to  Eos.<uet,  almost  as 
superior  as  Shakspeare  to  llacinc.  ur  as  Ulswatcr  to  the  Serpentine.  In  fact, 
when  turning  from  one  to  the  other,  1  ha\  e  felt  at  times  as  if  I  were  passing  out 
of  a  gorgeous,  crowded  drawing-room,  with  its  artificial  lights  and  dizzying 

sounds,  to  nm  uj)  a  hill  at  sunrise Possuet's  mind  was  so  uncongenial 

to  Luther's,  so  artif  cial,  so  narrow,  sharing  in  the  national  incapacity  for  see- 
ing anything  except  through  a  French  eye-glass — his  conception  of  t'aith,  as  I 
have  had  occasion  to  remark  in  previous  notes,  was  so  meagre,  so  alien  from 
Luther's — and  the  shackles  imposed  upon  him  by  his  Church  so  disqualified 
him  for  judging  fairly  of  its  gre;'.t  cm^my,  tint  v.c  need  not  be  surprised  at 
any  amount  of  misunderstanding  in  him,  v.hen  he  came  forward  as  an  advo- 
cate in  such  a  cause.  Still,  however  fiercely  '  the  eagle  of  ]Meaux '  may  have 
desired  to  use  his  beak  and  claws,  he  might  as  well  have  pockt  and  clawed  at 
Mount  Ararat,  as  at  him  whom  (JckI  was  pleased  to  endow  with  a  mountain  of 
strength,  when  he  ordained  that  he  should  rise  for  the  support  of  the  Church 
oat  of  the  flood  of  darkness  and  corruption." — IbicL,  note  W,  pp.  GOO,  661. 

"  Hare  had  bocn  quoting  an  exposition  of  Luther's  on  John  vii,  U7-39,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  says,  "That  same  word  which  is  prcacht  has  such  a  hidden 
power,  that,  in  tlse  devil's  kin._;doin,  where  he  rales  nuglitily,  it  will  sweep  devils 
by  heaps  out  of  the  heart,  as  the  Elbe  sweeps  down  chaff.  He  knows  well  why 
ho  calls  God's  word  a  river ;  for  it  docs  great  things  and  many ;  it  rushes 
along,"  &c. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  193 

These  latter  quotations  have  introduced  us  to  Luther,  Hare's 
great  hero.  The  last,  indeed,  though  given  as  a  sample  of  Hare's 
critical  fiicultj,  is,  it  Avill  be  seen,  taken  from  the  famous  Note  W., 
now  published  separately  under  the  title  of  "  A  Vindication  of 
Luther  against  his  recent  English  Assailants."  Here,  then,  vrc  pass 
on,  by  a  natural  transition,  to  consider  the  claims  and  merits  of 
Hare  as  a  controversial  writer.  Of  course,  his  critical  faculty  is 
called  into  play  continually  when  he  is  WTiting  controversially; 
nevertheless,  as  a  controversialist  he  shows  powers  for  which  in  his 
criticisms  there  was  little  scope.  Hare's  com-se  as  a  critic  ended 
with  his  residence  at  Cambridge.  He  became  a  controversialist 
almost  from  the  beginning  of  his  residence  at  Herstmonceux,  and 
continued  such  to  the  end  of  his  life.  More  especially,  after  the 
year  1840,  when  he  was  appointed  archdeacon,  he  felt  it  to  be  his 
duty  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  ecclesiastical  and  theological  con- 
troversy. Most,  if  not  all,  of  his  charges,  however  generous  in 
spirit  and  catholic  in  their  Christian  feeling,  partook  more  or  less 
of  this  character ;  and  of  these  a  considerable  number  have  been 
published  with  notes.  We  believe  tliat  those  not  published  in  his 
lifetime,  are  likely  to  be  issued  by  his  executors,  with  the  notes 
he  had  prepared.  The  notes  to  the  "Victory  of  Faith"  will  probably 
be  largely  controversial.  The  "  Contest  with  Rome,"  and  the 
"Vindication,"  just  referred  to,  are  his  most  important  writings  of 
this  character,  already  published.  In  the  former  of  these  he  sifts 
Newman's  writings,  and  brings  forward  weighty  and  convincing  tes- 
timony and  argument  against  the  doctrines  and  assumptions  of 
Popery ;  in  the  latter  he  triumphantly  vindicates  the  memory  of 
Luther  from  the  calumnies  first  published  by  Bossuet,  and  recently 
revived  and  endorsed,  with  divers  additions  and  aggravation,  by  cer- 
tain English  writers.  He  seizes  the  assailants  of  Luther  one  after 
another,  with  a  strong,  unyielding  grip,  and  holds  them  fast  till  he 
has  fairly  plucked  them  bare.  In  this  way  he  deals  with  TJossuet, 
Ilallam,  Newman,  \Vard,  and  Sir  W .  Hamilton.'  The  last  is,  of 
living  men,  the  most  formidable  assailant  Luther  has  had,  from  his 
position  and  reputation.  Upon  him,  accordingly,  Hare  bestows  the 
largest  share  of  attention ;  and  most  complete  and  ten-iblo  is  the 
castigation  he  inflicts.  Hare  possessed  the  capital  advantage  over 
all  his  opponents,  that  he  was  far  more  completely  and  intimately 
acquainted  with  Luther's  history  and  writings  than  any  of  them. 
Indeed,  it  is  amazing  how  slight  and  second-hand  was  the  knowledge 
vrhich  even  such  men  as  Ilallam  and  Hamilton  possessed  of  the 
matters  on  which  they  presumed  to  pronounce,  as  Hare  abundantly 
demonstrates.     Then,  he  was  defending  the  cause  of  the  highest 


194  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

human  liberty,  and  of  truth  and  heroism,  against  the  cause  and 
kingdom  of  darkness  and  bondage,  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  slavery 
and  death.  Such  a  theme  was  worthy  of  Hare's  powers,  and,  which 
is  more  to  say,  his  powers  are  equal  to  his  theme.  There  is  a  life 
and  energy  about  his  writing  on  this  theme  scarcely  to  be  equalled 
elsewhere.  The  pulse  and  currents  of  Luther's  life  seem  to  beat 
within  his  heart,  and  now  warm  him  to  an  eloquence  of  the  highest 
strain,  and  then  jet  forth  in  outbreaks  of  wit,  sometimes  of  classic 
beauty  and  vividness,  at  others  of  the  homeliest  and  raciest  style, 
but  always  apt  and  forcible.  His  mastery  of  logic  is  no  less  re- 
markable than  his  other  gifts,  though  he  does  not  affect  logical 
forms  and  phrases.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
logicians  of  Britain,  as  Hare  takes  care  his  readers  shall  not  forget; 
but  he  found  himself  fuiled  at  his  proper  weapon  by  one  of  a  very 
different  school  and  training  from  his  own.  He  was  supposed,  also, 
to  be  a  master  of  all  erudition ;  but  this  imagination  Hare  effectu- 
ally dispelled.  As  a  critic  Hare  may  remhid  us  of  the  accomplish- 
ed anatomist :  but  as  a  controversialist  he  seems  rather  like  the 
brilliant  swordsman.  And  Sir  W.  Hamilton  must  often  have  been 
confounded  at  the  swift  and  sudden  scimitar-play  by  which  all  his 
fences  and  guards  were  foiled,  and  his  weapon  so  often  struck  from 
his  hand.  Or,  again,  we  may  admire  the  taste,  iho,  subtiltv,  the 
truth,  the  profundity  of  Hare's  critical  analysis  and  judgments  ;  but, 
in  addition  to  the  same  qualities  displayed  in  his  controversial 
writings,  we  admire  tlie  conversational  rapidity  of  retort,  the  frequent 
flash  of  icit  arising  from  the  encounter  of  u-its,  and  the  colloquial 
but  appropriate  and  effective  raciness  and  homeliness  of  style.  We 
are  reminded  by  these  qualities  not  only  of  Luther,  but  of  quaint 
Latimer.  Only  Hare  is  always,  however  severe  or  even  personal, 
the  gentleman  and  the  scholar ;  his  homeliness  is  never  gross,  his 
quaintness  is  never  violent  or  eccentric.  Almost  every  kind  of 
sparkling  and  of  eloquent  writing  may  be  found  in  his  wonderful  "  Vin- 
dication," except  that  appropriate  to  the  pulpit,  in  which,  indeed,  Hare 
never  seems  to  have  excelled.*  And  what  is  quite  as  remarkable  as 
any  other  characteristic  of  this  performance  is,  that,  whatever  may  be 
the  subject  and  whatever  the  variety  of  style  which  Hare  employs,  he 
generally  makes  very  plain  English — the  most  simple  words  and  the 
most  idiomatic  phrases,  do  his  work.  Indeed,  till  we  read  him,  we 
bad  no  conception  what  a  man  of  pith  and  heart,  and  of  real  genius 
and   scholarly  accomplishment,  could  achieve  with   Anglo-Saxon 

"  The  King  of  Prussia  sent  ITare  his  portrait  in  a  gold  medallion,  as  an 
acknowledgment  for  this  "  Vindication,"  •which,  our  readers  are  no  doubt  aware, 
has  acquired  a  European  reputation.  • 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  195 

English.  "We  recommend  his  writings,  and  especially  this  "  Vindica- 
tion," to  all  those  among  our  readers  who  wish  to  study  the  genuine 
character  and  proper  capabilities  of  the  English  tongue.  Our  space 
will  only  allow  of  our  giving  a  very  few  samples  of  what  we  have 
been  attempting  to  describe.  And  yet  why  do  we  talk  of  samples  ? 
As  well  talk  of  giving  a  sample  of  springs  glories,  or  of  the  treas- 
ures which  the  "  dark,  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear."  ^Yhat  we 
have  to  offer  are  but  a  very  few  trifling  specimens  out  of  hundreds 
scattered  thickly  over  the  pages  of  tJ are's  controversial  writings. 
And,  of  course,  these,  brief  as  they  must  of  necessity  be,  can  convey 
no  idea  of  the  various  and  exact  learning,  and  the  argumentative 
power,  which  distinguish  these  writings.  Before  we  present  the 
specimens  we  have  selected  from  the  "  Vindication,"  we  are  tempted 
to  quote  one — but  one — paragraph  from  the  "  Contest  with  Rome,"  a 
work  the  merit  of  which  is  only  inferior  to  that  of  the  "  Vindication," 
in  so  far  as  the  argument  is  less  continuous,  and  as  the  personal 
and  living  interest  possesses  less  grandeur  and  unity. 

From  the  "  Contest  with  Rome,"  then,  we  merely  quote  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  Dr.  Newman,  in  his  Lectures  on  Anglicanism,  p.  8,  asserts  tliat  our  Church 
'  13  a  thing  v.-ithout  a  soul,  does  not  contemplate  itself,  define  its  intrinsic  con- 
stitution, or  ascertain  its  position;'  that,  'it  has  no  traditions:  it  cannot  be  said 
to  think;  it  does  not  know  what  it  holds,  and  what  it  does  not;  it  is  not  even 
conscious  of  its  own  existence.'  As  though  it  were  essential  to  the  existence 
of  a  soul,  that  it  should  be  busied  in  defining  its  intrinsic  constitution,  and 
ascertaining  and  circumscribing  its  position.  As  though  it  were  not  the  con- 
stant characteristic  of  an  energetic  genial  soul,  that  it  pours  itself  out  in  action 
upon  the  world  without,  without  wasting  its  time  in  defining  its  intrinsic  con- 
stitution, or  ascertaining  its  position.  As  though  this  itself  were  not  indicative 
of  a  clieckt,  represt  action.  Is  it  not  the  grand  and  blessed  peculiarity  of  our 
political  constitution,  that  all  our  institutions,  all  our  liberties,  have  grown  out 
of  particular  emergencies — that  we  have  never  set  ourselves  down,  like  our 
neighbors  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel,  to  define  our  intrinsic  constitution, 
and  ascertain  otir  position?  Yet  for  this  very  reason  do  we  tmderstand  our 
position  better,  because  we  know  it  practically,  from  acting  in  it — not  specida- 
tivoly,  tVom  thcori;cIng  about  it.  Xay,  was  not  this  the  spirit  and  principle  of 
the  whole  CathoUc  Church  in  its  best  ages?  as  it  continued  more  or  less  until 
the  anti-Catholic  Council  of  Trent  set  about  dejining  its  intrinsic  constitution, 
and  ascertaining  i^  position,  and  building  circumvallations  about  it,  wall  beyond 
wall,  and  bastion  beside  bastion,  icith  batteries  of  anathemas  mounted  upon  them 
desolating  the  country  round." — Contest,  &c.,  pp.  14-1,  145. 

The  following  sentences  from  the  "  Vindication  "  refer  to  Sir  W. 
Hamilton : 

"  Still  in  one  sense  the  reviewer  is  not  so  guilty  a.s  ho  appears.  For  strange 
though  it  noav  be  deemed,  it  unijuestlonably  is  the  fact,  as  I  liave  already  hir.ted 
more  than  once,  that  he  had  never  set  eyes  on  the  original  Latin  ot'anv  of 
these  tour  sentences.  The  garbling,  the  misrepresentation,  the  mistranslation, 
are  not  tlie  reviewer's  sin,  but  Bossuet's,  in  the  second  book  of  whose  Hlstoire 


196  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [April, 

des  Variations  tlie  four  sentences  stand,  almost  consecutively,  though  not  in  the 
same  order,  in  one  page.  §  XVII.  ^'l.s  a  thief  is  sometimes  delected  througlt 
some  faw  in  hi^  shoe  or  boot,  which  happens  to  coincide  tviih  the  footprints 
about  the  spot  xchere  the  rohhcrij  iceis  committed,  so  here  u-e  may  feel  confident 
that  the  recieicer,  xcho  verily  needs  an  expert  policeman  to  track  him,  took  his 
quotations  from  Dossuct,  because,  after  the  Chinese  fashion,  they  copy  Bossuel's 
faults." — ^Iission,  S)-c.,  second  edition,  p.  811. 

The  two  next  passages  refer  to  the  frequent  vehemence  of 
Lnth.cr's  language  : 

"Moreover,  I  would  contend  that  conmioii  jtistlcc  requires  %ve  should  make 
the  amplest  allowance  tor  occasional  ovor-velieuK'nce  or  llastine^;s  of  expression, 
■when  we  consider,  not  merely  the  peculiarly  energetical  tone  of  his  mind,  but  all 
the  circumstances  of  his  condition — the  darkness  out  of  which  he  hud  to  work 
his  way,  with  scarcely  any  help  save  that  of  God's  word  and  Spirit — themifrht 
of  the  errour  he  had  to  fight  against,  its  dcailening  influence,  the  abominations 
it  had  given  birth  to,  the  number  of  enemies  he  had  to  encounter,  and  the 
almost  superhuman  rapidity  and  vigour  with  which  he  carried  on  his  sincjle- 

handed  warfare When  we  remember,  too,  that  durin"- 

this  whole  time  his  mind  was  continually  expanding,  and  that  manv  of  these 
writings  were  epochal  acts  in  the  history  of  the  world,  utterances'  of  truths 
which  history  has  signed,  and  scaled,  and  attested  witli  the  witness  of  ten  .ven- 
erations— what  can  we  tliink  of  the  spirit  that  would  carp,  and  cavil,  and  sneer 
at  a  fev;  inconsiderate  expressions?  When  the  world's  doom-bell  tolls,  it  7)iu^t 
shake  the  belfry.  When  the  rcalers  burst  forth  from  their  frost-bound  prison, 
the  ice  will  crack,  not  icithout  a  noise  ;  and  they  irill  probably  splash  over  the 
banks."— Ibid.,  pp.  688,  CS9. 

"  These  instances  arc  notorious;  a  multitude  of  similar  ones  might  be  cited 
from  Luther's  writings,  especially  from  those  belonging  to  this  critical  period 
of  his  lite,  when  all  his  powers  were  stretched  beyond  themselves  by  the  stress 
of  the  conflict.  To  our  nicer  ears  such  exprcs.-ions  may  seem  in  bad  taste. 
Be  it  so.  Whcji  a  7'itan  is  tralking  about  amony  the  pigmies,  the  earth  seems  to 
rock  beneath  his  tread.  Mont  Blanc  iconld  be  out  of  keeping  in  the  Regent's 
Park  :  and  what  would  he  the  outcry  if  it  were  to  toss  its  head  and  shake  off  an 
avalanche  or  two!" — Ibid.,  p.  797. 

How  finely  drawn  is  the  following  picture  of  Dr.  Newman : 

"When  we  look  back  on  the  author's  career,  when  we  reflect  how  he  has 
gone  on  year  after  year  sharpening  the  edge  of  his  already  over-keen  under- 
standing, rasting  one  truth  aft(>r  another  into  his  logical  crucilile,  and  persuad- 
ing himself  that  he  has  di.^-nlved  it  to  atoms,  a::d  then  exhibiting:  a  like  inge- 
nuity in  comjKjunding  the  semblance  of  truths  out  of  fictions — wlicn  we  reflect 
how  in  this  way  he  appeared  to  be  gradually  losincr  the  faculty  of  distinguish- 
ing between  truth  and  fal>e]iood,  and  the  very  belief  in  tht  existence  of  any 
power  for  discerning  truth,  nay,  as  it  seemed  at  times,  in  the  existence  of  any 
positive  truth  to  be  discerned,  and  how,  taking  refuge,  as  it  were,  from  the 
encroachments  of  a  universal  scepticism,  he  has  at  length  bowed  his  neek  under 
a  yoke  which  a  man,  gifted  with  such  fine  qualities  of  mind  and  character, 
could  liardly  assume  till  lie  hail  put  out  the  eyes  of  his  heart  and  conscience, 
as  well  as  his  understanding — it  is  not  in  scorn  and  triumph,  but  in  deep  sad- 
ness and  awe,  that  we  repeat.  Who  is  this  tliat  darkenelk  counsel  by  words  with- 
out knowledge?"*— Ibid.,  I).  725. 


Tl^is  i3  the  motto  to  Newman's  first  "Lecture  on  Justification." 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  197 

We- must  find  space  for  the  following  noble  passage,  ^Yith  which 
we  bring  our  quotations  to  a  close.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  contrast 
is  between  the  Fathers  and  the  Reformers : 

"  Although  Clirlstianlty,  Lcinc;  iu  her  essence  above  the  relations  of  time 
and  space,  renders  her  devout  votaries  in  a  certain  sen.so  iiidcpendcnt  of  them 
■with  regard  to  their  own  personal  spiritual  lite,  yet,  when  tliey  set  themselves 
to  teach  or  to  act  upon  others,  the  varial>le  elements  of  their  nature,  those 
■which  arc  necessarily  moulded  and  modified  by  the  moral  and  inlelloctnal 
T>owers  and  aiieucie;  th^y  are  l.ro-aght  into  contact  with,  conic  into  ploy,  llrn-o 
It  is  next  to  a  moral  impossibility,  that  men  living  in  the  decrepii'ide  of  the 
ancient  ■R-orld — under  the  relaxino;  and  palsying  inllucnces  of  the  Roman  and 
Byzantine  empires,  v/hen  all  intellectual  and  moral  life  was  fast  waning  away, 
and  the  grand  and  stirring  i'leas  and  aims  which  had  drawn  forth  the  ener- 
gies of  the  classical  nations  in  their  prime,  had  been  superseded  by  rhetorical 
tumour  and  allegorical  and  grammatical  tritling— should  have  mounted  to  such 
a  pitch  of  intellectual  power' as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  the  noblest  ininds 
in  the  a^e  when  all  the  faculties  of  the  new  world  were  bursting  into  lile,  and 
when  om3  reirion  of  power  after  another  ■vwas  laid  open  to  man,  and  called  him 
to  start  up  and  take' possession  of  it — the  whole  circuit  of  the_  earth  he  lived 
in,  the  infinitude  and  the  sublimities  of  the  universe  in  wljich  it  is  comprised, 
the  world  of  night  surpassing  that  of  day,  and  swallovring  it  up  _ln  its  iu;f '.t!i- 
omable  dcptlis  ;  the  classical  nations  rising  out  of  their  millennial  sleep,  witli 
the  beautv  of  their  art  and  of  their  poetry,  and  their  heroic  glory ;  while  the 
incipient  knowledge  of  the  newly  discovered  races  tended  along  therewith  to 
brintj  out  self-consciousness,  and  to  make  self-knowledge  more  distinct, — and 
the  Book  of  God,  speaking  in  each  man's  native  tongue,  became  indeed  a  liv- 
ing book,  the  Book  of  Man,  revealing  the  inmost  tlioughts  and  purposes  of  bis 
heart." — Ibid.,  p.  TOG. 

Here  we  must  stay  our  hand.  It  yet  remains  for  us  to  do  what 
we  may  be  able  toward  ascertaining  the  position  which  Have  held 
as  a  religious  teacher,  and  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  his  theology. 
To  this  task  we  shall  devote  a  second  paper,  for  which  tlie  pre.-cut 
has  cleared  the  Avay.  AVc  wish  it  were  likely  that  in  Hare  as  a 
theologian  we  might  find  as  much  to  admire  and  as  little  to  regret 
as  in  Hare  the  philosopher,  critic,  and  controversialist.  But  we  fear 
this  is  not  likely  to  be  the  case.  Yet  we  rejoice  to  believe  that,  with 
all  genuine  and  Scriptural  Chvir-tians,  he  did.  notwithstanding  his 
theological  defect.s,  ''hold  the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of 
peace,  and  in  righteousness  of  life." 


198  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 


Ar.T.  n.— ROMANISM  FALSE  AND  PERSECUTING.-'    \j  : 

The  Complete  Notes  of  the  Doitay  Bible  and  Rhcmisk  Tcstaynent.  Extracted  from 
the  Qtiarto  Editions  of  1816  and  181S,  published  tmdcr  the  Patronage  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Bishops  and  Priests  of  Ireland,  as  the  authorized  Interpretation  of  the 
Church,  and  the  infallible  Guide  to  Everlasting  Life.  With  a  Preface,  embodying 
the  Facts  and  Documents  connected  u-ith  the  Publication  of  both  Editions;  Dr. 
Troy's  and  Dr.  Murray's  Denial  of  them;  the  List  of  the  Subscribers  throughout 
Ireland:  the  List  of  certain  Notes  suppressed  in  some  Copies  of  the  Second  Edition. 
With  a  copious  Index,  referring  to  all  the  Principles  of  the  Church  of  Rome  u-orthy 
of  revxarh  in  the  Notes,  which  appear  bitterly  subversive  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
and  of  all  Christian  Charity  nmong  Mc?i.  By  the  Eev.  Robeht  J.  M'Ghee,  A.  B. 
DuWin:  Ilicbard  Moore  Tims.     London  :  ^impkin  and  Marshall.     1S37. 

Roman  Catholicism,  at  the  present  time,  is  undergoing  a  severe 
scrutiny.  "What  it  is,  and  -what  its  tendencies,  are  questions  which 
are  discussed  with  as  much  interest  as  if  it  had  but  just  obtruded 
itself  upon  the  notice  of  the  world.  It  would  seem  that  many  have 
either  not  read  histor}',  or  have  read  it  to  little  purpose.  They  seem 
just  now  to  have  waked  up  to  the  real  importance  of  a  system  which 
winds  itself  through  all  the  various  ramiCcations  of  society.  A  certain 
class  of  persons  not  Romanists,  nor  3'et  Protestants,  but,  on  questions 
of  religion,  free  and  easy  souls,  often  ask,  \Vhy  is  not  Romanism  as 
good  as  any  other  religion?  and  why  are  not  Roman  Catholics  as 
good  as  any  other  Christians  ?  These  Simon  Pure  patriots  talk 
much  and  earnestly  of  rehgious  freedom  and  equal  rights ;  they  rep- 
robate intolerance,  bigotry,  and  narrow  sectarianism.  The  constitu- 
tion, say  they,  guarantees  to  every  citizen  the  liberty  of  worship, 
and  if  you  refuse  to  favour  the  elevation  of  a  Roman  Catholic  to  any 
position  of  honour  or  of  profit,  on  account  of  his  religious  faith,  you 
make  war  upon  the  constitution  of  the  country,  and,' besides,  you 
make  yourself  an  intolerable  bigot.  This  reasoning  has  had  a  run 
for  t^venty  or  thirty  years.  The  vast  influx  of  Roman  Catholics  into 
this  country  within  the  last  few  years,  and  the  evident  catering  of 
politicians  for  Roman  Catholic  favour,  have  inspired  leading 
spirits  in  the  Romish  communion  with  confidence,  and  they  have 
thought  it  expedient  to  busy  themselves  with  the  politics  of  the 
country.  The  rapidity  with  which  they  have  acquired  power  to 
mould  legislation,  by  managing  political  leaders,  and  balancing  par- 
ties, has  at  length  startled  some  who  had  long  been  disposed  to 
regard  them  as  an  oppressed  class,  subjected  to  proscription  and 
persecution  even  in  this  land  of  freedom.  They  now  see  that  Ro- 
manism is  not  a  mere  abstraction,  nor  a  mere  negation  in  the  social 


1856.]  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  199 

system,  but  is  a  virus  making  its  way  rapidly  toward  the  heart  of 
the  body  politic. 

With  many  this  is  a  discovery  of  modern  times — one  of  the  nov- 
elties  of  a  fast  age.  Until  recently,  those  who  have  discussed  the 
claims  of  Romanism  in  tbe  light  of  history  have  been  charged  with 
dealing  in  antiquated  lore,  and  with  being  decidedly  behind  the  times. 
They  live  in  the  feudal  ages — they  riot  among  old  dusty  "tomes — 
they  are  foolish  enough  to  judge  of  Roman  Catholics  of  this  age  by 
Tetzel,  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  Richelieu.  They  judge  of  Romanism 
in  our  republic  by  Romanism  under  the  monarchies.  In  certain 
quarters  this  is  still  thought  to  be  quite  conclusive  reasoning.  Some, 
however,  are  beginning  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  Romanism  never 
changes.  That  which  made  it  dangerous  to  governments  in  olden 
time  makes  it  equally  dangerous  to  governments  in  these  modern 
times ;  and  that  which  made  it  dangerou.s  to  monarchies  makes  it 
dangerous  to  republics.  It  always  was,  and  still  is,  the  creature  and 
tool  of  one  mind,  and  that  mind  the  embodiment  of  a  grasping  and 
changeless  despotism.  The  study  of  history,  in  connexion  with  the 
subject,  has  revived,  and  men  think  more  profoundly  and  philo- 
sophically, and  it  will  probably  be  long  before  the  public  mind  Avill 
be  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  syren  song  of  shallow-brained  politicians. 

There  are  two  leading  questions  in  the  Romish  controversy, 
namely:  Is  Romanism  addicted  to  falsehood?  and.  Is  she  addict- 
ed to  persecution?  To  these  questions,  the  book  whose  title- 
page  is  placed  at  the  head  of  this  article,  speaks.  The  preface  of 
the  book — containing  127  pages — most  conclusively  proves,  that, 
when  they  meet  their  opponents,  Romanists  will  practise  evasion, 
double-dealing,  and  downright  falsehood.  The  body  of  the  volume, 
consisting  of  the  notes  on  the  Douay  Bible,  fully  evinces  that  Ro- 
manism is  essentially  prescriptive  and  persecuting.  It  is  the  moral 
and  political  aspects  of  the  system  of  Romanism  to  which  we  shall 
direct  attention  in  this  review,  and  we  shall  confine  ourselves  strictly 
to  our  te.xt. 

The  notes,  especially  those  upon  the  ISIew  Testament,  generally 
breathe  a  spirit  of  bitter  hatred  toward  Protestants ;  but  there  are 
several  of  them  so  atrocious,  that  they  have  been,  in  some  cases 
omitted,  and  in  others  repudiated.  As  these  notes  will  frequently 
be  referred  to  in  this  part  of  the  discussion,  we  shall  insert  several 
of  them  in  this  place. 

"  Matt,  xiii,  29,  30.  Lc^t  perhaps.  The  c^ood  must  tolerate  the  evil  when 
it  is  so  strong'  that  it  cannot  be  redressed  withnut  daii.:ior  and  (l!-^tiirban':c  of 
the  whole  Church,  and  commit  the  matter  to  God's  jud-.Mnent  in  the  latter  day; 
otherwise,  where  evil  men,  be  they  heretics  or  other  malefactors,  may  be  pun- 


200  JiOmanism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 

ishcd  or  suppressed  without  disturbance  and  hazard  of  the  good,  they  may  and 
oii^ht,  by  public  autliority,  either  spiritual  or  temporal,  to  be  chastised  or 

KXKCUTEI). 

'•  Luke  xiv,  23.  Compel  ihcm.  The  vehement  persuasion  that  God  used, 
both  externally,  by  force  of  his  -word  and  miracles,  and  internally  by  his 
grace,  to  bring  us  unto  liim,  is  called  compelling;  ....  proving  that  they  ■who 
are,  by  their  former  profession  in  baptism,  subject  to  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
are  departed  from  the  same,  after  sects,  may  and  ought  to  be  compelled  into 

the   unity  and  society  of  the  universal  Ciuirch  again They  arc  to  be 

reached  not  only  ]>.y  gicnti.e  mkans,  but  bv  just  punishment  also. 

"  2  Tim.  iii,  r>.  FdUij.  All  hcrelics  in  tli3  beginning  seem  to  Lave  some 
show  of  truth,  God  for  just  punishment  of  men's  sins  permitting  them  for 
some  time  in  some  persons  and  places  to  prevail ;  but  in  a  short  time  God 
detecteth  them,  and  ojjcnoth  the  eyes  of  men  to  see  their  deceits,  insomuch 
that  after  the  first  brunt  they  are  maintained  by  force  only,  all  M'ise  men  in  a 
manner  seeing  tlieir  t'Jsehood,  tliough,  for  fear  of  troubling  the  state  of  such 
commonwealths  where  unluckily  they  have  been  received,  they  cannot  be  so 
suddenly  extirpated. 

"  Rev.  ii,  20.  He  warneth  bishops  io  be  zealous  and  stand  against  false 
prophets  and  heretics,  of  what  sort  soever,  by  alluding  covertly  to  the  exam- 
ple of  holy  Elias,  that  in  zeal  killed  four  hundred  and  fifty  false  p)rophets  of 
Jezebel,  and  spared  not  Achab  nor  Jezebel  themselves,  but  told  them  to  their 
faces  that  they  troubled  Israel,  that  is,  the  fiiithful  peo{)le  of  God. 

"Kev.  xvii,  G.  Dnink  ruitk  the  hlouil.  It  is  plain  that  this  woman  signifieth 
the  whole  body  of  all  the  persecutors  that  have,  and  shall,  shed  so  much  blood 
of  the  just,  of  the  prophets,  apostles,  and  otiier  martyrs,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world  to  the  end.  The  Protestants  fooli.-^hly  expound  it  of  Home,  for 
that  there  they  put  heretics  to  death,  and  allow  of  their  punishment  in  other 
countries:  but  their  blood  i.;  not  called  the  blond  of  saints,  no  more  tlian  the 
blood  of  thieves,  man-killers,  and  other  malefactors,  for  the  shedding  of  which, 
by  order  of  justice,  no  commonwealth  shall  answer." 

Here  Avc  have  tlic  genuine  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Home,  on 
the  subject  of  forcin^:;  conformity  to  its  principles  and  modes  of 
Avorship,  and  of  pcrsccutim:;;  and  e.xterminatinLr  heretics.  And  to  show 
that  they  consider  these  views  not  mere  speculations,  l)ut  practical 
rules,  they  have  put  them  into  their  Lible.  Some  account  shall 
now  bo  given  of  the  Douay  Bible  and  its  notes. 

It  is  not  the  policy  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  to  give  the 
Scriptures  to  the  people.  But  when  "  tlie  faithful"  happen  to  live 
in  Protestant  countries,  where  the  Bible  is  freely  circulated  among 
the  people  "  in  the  vulgar  tongue,"  they  are  furnished  with  a  Roman 
Catholic  version,  accompanied  with  learned  notes,  which  are  under- 
stood to  be  the  authorized  commentary  of  the  Church  upon  the 
sacred  text.  It  was  in  consequence  of  the  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures into  English  from  the  original  Hebrew  and  Greek,  that  the 
Roman  Catholic  version  from  the  Latin  Vulgate  was  brought  out. 

AVhcntlic  Protestant  Reformation  had  become  firmly  established, 
under  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  learned  Romnnist  doctors  Avho  had 
fled  from  wliat  they  considered  the  unjust  persecutions  of  the  Prot- 
estant Queen  of  England,  established  a  college  at  Rheims  in  France, 


1856.]  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  201 

and  in  1582  issued  a  translation  of  the  New  Testament,  -vrith  notes: 
this  is  called  "  The  Rhemish  Testament."  This  college  was  sub- 
sequently removed  to  Douaj,  in  the  Netherlands,  where  the  Old 
Testament  was  also  translated  and  published,  with  notes,  in  1609. 
■\Vhat  is  called  the  Douay  Bible  is  composed  of  these  translations, 
and  the  notes  which  originally  accompanied  them,  or  so  many  of 
these  notes  as  it  may  be  thought  expedient,  under  the  circumstances, 
to  publish. 

The  Roman  Catholic  theory  is,  that  the  se7ise  of  holy  Scripture 
is  to  be  found  in  'the  authorized  expositions  of  the  Church.  The 
written  Bible  is  not  the  word  of  God,  but  the  sense  of  the  writing 
is  the  true  revelation,  and  the  Churcli  communicates  that  sense  to 
the  faithful,  guided  by  the  light  of  her  infallible  traditions.  The 
Church  is  the  divinely-authorized  teacher;  she  teaches  through  her 
lawfully  constituted  ministry;  and  her  ministers  bear  her  teachings 
to  the  people  either  viva  voce  or  in  written  commentaries. 
What  they  teach  by  the  word  of  mouth,  is  fugitive,  and  not  always 
capable  of  review,  but  is  presumed  to  be  in  accordance  with  the 
will  of  the  Church.  What  they  write  and  the  Church  approves, 
has  the  sanction  of  her  infallible  authority.  As  it  is  important  for 
the  faithful  to  know  what  writings  have  the  sanction  of  "  Holy 
Mother,"  and  what  have  not,  she  has  constituted  the  "  Holy  Office 
of  the  Inquisition,"  to  examine  all  the  publications  which  are  likely 
in  any  country  to  flill  into  Romanist  hands.  Those  books  which  arc 
forbidden  are  entered  in  the  "  Index  Prohibitorius" — such  as  need 
correction,  are  corrected  in  the  "  Index  Expurgatorias" — and  such 
works  of  Papal  doctors  as  have  long  passed  without  censure  or 
correction  are  deemed  orthodox.  While  some  books  are  prohibited 
and  others  corrected  by  the  Holy  Office,  others  are  explicitly  sanc- 
tioned, and  still  others  are  passed  in  silence.  The  last  class  have  a 
quasi  sanction,  but  Romish  controversialists  either  acknowledge  or 
deny  their  authority  just  as  they  fmd  occasion. 

How  far  the  notes  of  the  Douay  Bible  have  the  sanction  of  the 
Roman  Church,  it  would  seem,  is  a  disputed  question,  it  prob- 
ably having  been  considered  a  matter  of  policy  to  leave  it  open. 
It  cannot,  however,  be  complained  of  as  a  matter  of  injustice,  if  that 
Church  should  be  held  responsible  for  both  the  translation  and 
notes,  although  they  may  never  have  been  explicitly  sanctioned  by 
the  learned  inquisitors.  It  has  never  been  the  fault  of  the  Romish 
Church  to  leave  heretical  books  uncondcmnod.  Nor  is  it  to  be  sup- 
posed that  so  important  a  step  as  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures 
into  English,  accompanied  by  notes,  which  profess  to  be  a  collection 
of  the  traditionary  interpretations  of  the  Church,  would  bo  undcr- 

FouRTiL  Secies.— Vol.  YUI.— 13 


202  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting,  [April. 

taken  at  a  Roman  Catholic  college,  Avithout  sanction  from  head- 
quarters. This  would  be  the  reasoning  of  an  outsider  upon  the 
subject,  and  the  most  natural  conclusion  is,  that  a  lloman  Catholic, 
who  should  be  permitted  by  his  priest  to  read  the  '•  Catholic  Bible," 
would  take  the  notes  as  the  authorized  interpretations  of  the  Church 
— the  true  and  infallible  sense  of  holy  Scripture.  So  far,  then,  as 
the  notes  attached  to  the  said  Catholic  Bible  shall  be  read  by 
Catholics,  they  will  bo  likely  to  be  regarded  as  the  voice  of  God, 
and,  of  course,  will  do  much  toward  forming  their  religious  belief 
and  moulding  their  character.  * 

Is  there  any  reason  why  the  persecuting  notes  of  the  Douay 
Bible  should  not  be  sanctioned  by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  ? 
They  are  but  the  echo  of  the  popes'  bulls,  and  the  utterance  of 
principles  upon  Avhich  the  Romish  Church  has  ever  acted.  There 
would  be  some  reason  in  the  squeamishncss  of  some  of  our  liberal 
Catholics,  in  relation  to  these  notes,  if  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
liad  never  sanctioned  anything  of  the  kind  in  her  teachings  or  her 
examples,  but,  as  the  matter  stands,  it  is  mere  nonsense  to  question 
their  authority.  The  whole  spirit,  tone,  and  language  of  the  Rhera- 
ish  notes  are  in  exact  conformity  with  the  spirit  and  practice  of 
Romanism — the  worst  sentiments  they  contain  have  exact  parallels 
in  the  decrees  of  the  popes. 

We  next  come  to  the  history,  given  by  our  author,  of  the  publi- 
cation of  the  Douay  Bible  in  Ireland,  in  l&lo  and  1818.  Li  tracing 
this  history,  we  see  fully  carried  out  that  principle  of  the  Jesuits, 
that  "  to  speak  with  equivocation  is  not  always  a  lie,  therefore  not 
intrinsically  bad." 

Up  to  the  year  178S,  there  had  been  six  different  editions  of  the 
Rhemish  Testament  printed  and  circulated.  During  this  year  an 
edition  was  published  in  Liverpool,  which,  it  seems  most  probable, 
was  circulated  in  Ireland.  In  or  before  the  year  1810,  steps  were 
taken  to  bring  out  an  edition  of  the  ]>)uay  Bible  in  Ireland.  In 
1813  this  project  was  under  way.  Thu  work  was  issued  in  numbers, 
under  the  sanction  of  the  high  functionaries  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  in  Ireland,  and  was  circulated  not  by  open  sale,  through  the 
trade,  but  was  delivered  to  subscribers  by  agents  trained  for  the 
purpose.     The  advertisement  upon  the  cover  is  as  follows  : 

"The  Holy  Catholic  New  Ti:sT.\Mr.\T — patronizotl  by  His  Grace 
the  Jlost  Itov.  Dr.  O'Reilly,  Roman  Catliolio  Lord  rrimare  of  all  Ireland, 
and  Archbi'^hop  of  ArmaL'h  ;  His  (rracc  tlie  ^\oit  Rev.  Dr.  Trov.  Roman 
Catbolic  Aivhbi=hop  of  Dublin;  Ilis  Grace  the  Mo^t  Rev.  Dr.'  Murray, 
Roman  Catholic  Coadjutor,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  and  Trcsident  of  tlie 
Royal  Catholic  Colle:.;e  of  St,  Patrick's,  :Mayn(>jtli;  the  Rirrht  Rev.  Dr. 
Maylan,  Roman  Catholic  Bibhop  of  Cork ;  the  Rieht  Rev.  Dr.  rower,  Roman 


1856.]  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  203 

Catholic  Bishop  of  Watertbrd ;  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  Ryan,  Roman  Catholic 
Coadjutor,  Bishop  of  Ferns;  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  Delany,  Romau  Catholic 
Bishop  of  Kildare  and  Leighton  ;  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  O'Reily,  Roman  Catho- 
lic Bishop  of  Kihnore  ;  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  Mansfield,  V.  C.  of  Ossary ;  the 
Most  Rev.  Dr.  Bodkin,  Roman  Catliolie  Warden  of  Galway;  the  Rev.  Dr. 
John  Murphy,  Archdeacon  of  Cork;  the  Rev._Dr.  M'Carthy,"  Dean  of  Cork; 
and  near  three  hundred  Roman  Catholic  clergymen  in  ditlerout  part^s  of 
Ireland. 

"  Noio  puhlishing  in  numbers  and  parts,  by  J.  A.  M'Xamara,  Cork,  a  new, 
superb,  and  elegant  edition  of  tiik  Catholic  Bible  ;  containing  the  whole 
of  the  books  in  the  sacred  Scriptures;  explained  or  illi-r^trated  with  valuable 
notes  or  annotations,  according  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
which  is  our  iniallible  and  unerring  guide  in  reading  the  Holy  Scriptnits,  and 
leading  us  unto  salvation.  Translated  from  the  Latin  A'ulgate,  and  diligently 
compared  with  the  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  other  editions  in  divers  languaizes. 
These  genuine  translations  of  tlie  Holy  Scriptures  into  the  Endish  lan<nj.a«-e 
were  first  finished  and  published  by  the  English  Catholic  College  at  Rheims, 
A.  D.  1582,  and  the  English  CathoUc  College  at  Douay,  A.  D.  1G09." 

After  a  description  of  the  plan  of  the  work  we  have  the  following : 

"By  permission  of  His  Grace,  Dr.  T.  Troy,  Catholic  Lord  Primate  of 
Ireland,  this  work  is  carefully  re^•Ising  by  the  Rev.  P.  A.  Walsh,  Denmark- 
street,  Dublin.  Duljlin  :  printed  for  the  proprietor,  by  James  Cumming  & 
Co.,  at  the  Hibernian  Press  Office,  No.  1  Temple  Lane,  1813." 

Next  follows  the  "  prospectus ''  and  "  address,"  after  which  it  is 
added  that,  "  Proper  people  will  be  employed  in  each  town  through- 
out Ireland  to  leave  the  numbers  and  parts,  as  soon  as  published,  at 
the  respective  house  of  each  subscriber." 

Three  thousand  copies  of  the  work  were  in  process  of  being 
printed,  and  were  all  delivered  to  subscribers  in  numbers,  e.xcept 
five  hundred  copies,  which  Mr.  Cumming,  the  printer,  retained  as 
security  for  his  pay  for  bringing  the  work  through  the  press.  In 
the  latter  part  of  the  year  1814,  M'Namara  failed  in  business — the 
work  being  completed  to  the  book  of  Romans — and  Gumming  was 
left  with  nothing  to  rely  upon,  to  remunerate  him  for  his  labour,  but 
the  five  hundred  copies  of  the  work  which  were  in  his  hand.^.  Gum- 
ming being  a  I'rotestaut,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  procure  the 
use  of  the  name  of  a  Catholic  bookseller  to  give  the  book  currency 
with  Catholics,  and  he  accordingly  made  an  arrangement  with  a 
Mr.  Coyne  to  become  sponsor  for  the  work :  it  was  accordingly 
published  in  his  name.  Mr.  Gumming,  instead  of  confining  the  cir- 
culation to  subscribers,  through  the  agency  of  '=  proper  people,"  put 
the  work  into  the  market  in  Dublin  and  London.  By  this  means 
it  fell  into  the  hands  of  Protestants,  and  became  matter  of  public 
animadversion,  in  connexion  with  the  question  of  Romau  Catholic 
emancipation,  which  was  being  agitated  by  O'Connell  and  others. 
The  character  of  the  notes  was  brought  out  in  a  review  by  the 


204  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  '     [April, 

Courier,  in  October,  1817.     The  following  extracts  will  show  the 
point  and  spirit  of  this  review  : 

"Thus  tliough  the  Ptoman  Catholic  Church  commands  her  members  to 
avoid  all  communication  in  spin'lunfs  -with  Protestants,  as  a  great  and  damna- 
ble sin  ;  yet,  where  th;:  community  is  iutonted  with  Protestantism,  she  permits 
them  to  converse  with  their  Protestant  t'ellow-subjects  in  worldly  affairs,  i/?jZe^'.? 
the!/  shall  b^  hy  name  declared  to  Id  hrrelirs  ;.  hut  even  such  conversation  must 
be  avoided  as  much  as  possible,  boin?  rontigions  and  noisome  to  good  Roman 
Catholics,  and  is  permitted  by  their  C'hurch,  oidy  because  necessity  forces  it ! 
Such  is  the  tolerant  spirit  of  that  C'hurch,  vvLose  members  now  clamour  for  ad- 
mission to  the  political  power  of  the  state,  on  the  alleged  ground  of  the  duty 
of  toleration  ! 

"  But  how  long  would  Dr.  Troy,  and  his  brethren  the  Romish  priests,  con- 
sider even  such  toleration  justified  by  necessity  ?  We  are  informed  in  the 
follov,-ing  annotations  :  '  The  yond  (i.  e.  the  Poman  Catholics)  must  tolerate 
the  evil  (i.  e.  the  Protestants,  &c.)  when  it  is  so  strong  that  it  cannot  be  re- 
dressed without  danger  or  disturbance  of  the  whole  Church,  and  commit  the 
matter  to  God's  judgment  in  the  latter  day;  otherwise,  where  evil  men,  be 
they  heretics  or  other  inalrfaclors,  may  be  punished  and  suppressed,  without 
disturbance  and  hazard  of  iT?L'  good,  they  may  and  ovghf,  by  ])ublic  authority, 
either  spiritual  or  temporal,  to  be  clinstised  or  kxkcuted,'  (Matt,  xiii,  29) ; 
and  again,  'AH  heretics,'  though  in  the  beginning  they  may  appear  '  to  have 
some  show  of  truth,'  yet  in  duo  time  their  deceits  and  falsehoods  shall  be 
known  by  all  wise  men,  though  for  troubling  the  state  of  such  commonwealths 
where  unluckily  they  have  been  received,  they  cannot  be  so  suddenly  extir- 
PATKD,  (2  Tim.  iii,  9.)     So  suddenly  extihpated  ! 

"In  another  part  of  this  newly  published  and  sanctioned  Roman  Catholic 
Bible,  the  words  of  Ilier'.iu  arc  perverted,  in  order  to  convince  the  Romanists 
•that  their  'zeal  ought  to  Ix^  so  great  towards'  all  Protestants  and  'their  doc- 
trines, that  they  should  give  them  the  anathcuia,  though  they  were  never  so 
dear  to  them,'  and  '  not  spare  tvfn  their  oxen  parents,'  (Gal.  i,  8.)  And  at  the 
same  time,  the  Roman  Catholics  are  Informed  that  '  the  Church  and  holy 
Councils  use  the  word  analh.enia  fnr  a  curse  against  heretics,''  &c. :  and,  that  to 
say, '  Be  he  anathema,'  moans, '  l>eware  you  accomi)any  not  with  h.im — accursed 
be  he,  away  with  hi/n!'  Su(.h  arc  the  exhortations  now  addressed  to  the 
Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  and  addressed  to  them  in  their  Bible,  as  the 
authorized  exposition  of  the  word  of  God." 

Thus  much  from  the  Courier.  The  British  Critic  also  noticed 
the  persecuting  notes  of  this  '*  Catholic  Bible  "  in  a  similar  strain. 
The  articles  in  tlic  Courier  and  the  Ciitic  spread  alarm  through  the 
ranks  of  the  Roman  Catholic  legions  in  England  and  Ireland.  Dr. 
Troy,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  hastened  to  make  a  disclaimer,  in 
•R'hich  he  declares  liimself  entirely  innocent  of  the  publication, 
which  he  describes  as  "a  new  edition  of  the  Rhemish  Testament, 
•with  annotations,  published  by  Coyne,  Dublin;  and  Keating  6c  Co., 
London,  1S16,  said  to  be  revised  by  me." 

Now  let  it  be  observed  that  the  writers  in  the  Courier  and  the 
Critic  had  only  seen  copies  of  that  part  of  the  edition  of  the  Douay 
Bible  which  Mr.  Cumming  had  put  into  the  market,  and  in  his 
advertisement  he  docs  not  give  the  whole  catalogue  of  authori- 
ties published  upon  the  cover  by  M'Namara,  but   simply   says; 


1856.3  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  205 

"Approved  by  the  Most  Rev.  Dr.  Troy,  Roman  Catholic  Arch- 
bishop of  Dublin."  Of  course  the  revicAvers  paid  their  special 
respects  to  Dr.  Troy,  and  Dr.  Troy  comes  forward  and  denies  all 
connexion  ^'ith  this  new  edition  of  the  Rhemish  Testament — pub- 
lished by  Coyne— 1S16.  The  Courier  and  the  Critic  had  said 
nothing  about  M'Namara's  edition  dated  1813,  sanctioned  by  a  host 
of  dignitaries  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland,  and  deliv- 
ered to  subscribers  by  "  proper  people,"  and  Dr.  Troy  felt  himself 
at  liberty  to  answer  according  to  the  information  of  his  assailants. 
lie  had  not  sanctioned — he  had  not  even  seen  this  ''■  new  edition  of  the 
Rhemish  Testament,"  and  to  act  out  the  farce  he  proceeds  to  say : 
"  But  having  read,  and  now  for  the  first  time  considered  these  notes, 
I  not  only  do  not  sanction  them,  but  solemnly  declare  that  I  reject 
them  generally,  as  harsh  and  irritating  in  expression,  some  of  them  as 
false  and  absurd  in  reasoning,  and  many  of  them  as  uncharitable  in 
Bentiment.  They  further  appear  to  countenance  opinions  and  doc- 
trines which,  in  common  with  the  other  Roman  Catholics  of  the 
empire,  I  have  solemnly  disclaimed  upon  oath." 

Monstrous  notes  these,  which  Dr.  Troy  had  never  sanctioned  nor 
ever  seen,  until  they  were  assailed  by  Protestant  editors ;  but 
whether  they  differ  in  a  single  iota  from  those  which  he  had  seen 
and  sanctioned  in  the  edition  published,  in  part,  by  M'lS^amara,  and 
dated  1813,  the  most  reverend  archbishop  does  not  say. 

Dr.  Troy  had  an  interview  with  Coyne,  and  informed  him  that 
the  publication  had  done  great  mischief.  "Finding  its  way  into 
England,"  said  he,  "it  has  armed  our  enemies  against  us,  and  this  at 
a  time  when  we  were  seeking  emancipation."  Upon  this  the  fol- 
lowing dialogue  ensued  :  Coyne.  "  Did  not  your  grace  approve  and 
sanction  the  publication  of  a  Bible  by  a  Mr.  M'2Samara,  of  Cork?" 
Dr.  Troy.  "  I  did."  Coyne.  "  Did  not  your  grace  depute  the  Rev. 
P.  A.  Walsh,  of  Denmark-street  -Chapel,  to  revise,  correct,  and 
approve  for  publication,  in  your  gi-acc's  name,  the  said  Bible  of 
M'JSlamara':"  Dr.  Troy.  "I  did."  Coyne.  "  Then,  my  lord,  that 
is  the  Bible  now  in  your  hands."  Dr.  Troy.  "I  never  authorized 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Walsh  to  approve  a  Bible  with  the  Rhemish  notes." 

This  conversation  is  detailed  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Troy,  which 
Coyne  published  for  his  own  vindication.  The  interview  referred  to 
took  place  on  the  13th  of  October,  1S17.  Dr.  Troy's  disclaimer  is 
dated  the  24th  of  the  same  month,  and  Coyne's  letter  the  I'Gth,  and 
Coyne  says  his  letter  was  called  forth  by  Dr.  Troy's  disclaimer. 
Coyne  also  asserts  in  his  letter,  that  after  the  interview  on  the  13th 
of  October,  he  had  sent  to  Dr.  Troy  "the  numbers  of  this  said 
Rhemish  Testament,"  on  the  covers   of  which  are  printed  these 


/" 


206  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 

words  :  "  Now  publishing,  by  jM'Namara,  the  Catholic  Bible.  To 
render  it  the  more  complete,  the  elegant,  copious,  and  instructive 
notes  or  annotations  of  the  Rhemish  Testament  will  be  inserted.  By 
permission  of  His  Grace,  Dr.  Troy,  Catholic  Lord  Primate  of  Ire- 
land, this  work  is  carefully  revising  by  the  Rev.  P.  A.  Walsh,  Den- 
mark-street, Dublin.  Printing  by  Cumming."  Accompanying  the 
"numbers  of  the  Rhemish  Testament"  sent  to  Dr.  Troy,  by  Coyne, 
was  a  letter  calling  the  special  attention  of  his  grace  to  the  adver- 
tisement, which,  '•  from  motives  of  delicacy "  he  thinks  it  best  to 
"  suppress." 

Now  here  is  a  curious  state  of  facts.  Dr.  Troy — according  to  his 
own  acknowledgment  to  Coyne — stands  sponsor  for  M'Namara's 
edition  of  the  Douay  Bible,  and  is  one  of  the  subscribers ;  the  pub- 
lication proceeds  to  the  book  of  Romans,  and  his  grace  never 
finds  out  that  the  Rev.  P.  A.  Walsh,  whom  he  had  employed  to 
prepare  it  for  the  press,  had  been  guilty  of  publishing  the  exception- 
able notes  in  question,  on  his  authority,  until  the  naughty  Protestant 
scribblers  aroused  him  from  his  strange  ignorance  of  a  fact  of  so 
much  importance  to  him  personally,  and  to  the  Church  under  his  pas- 
toral oversight.  The  numbers  had  been  delivered  at  his  palace  by 
some  one  of  the  "  proper  people,"  employed  as  distributers,  at  in- 
tervals, for  the  space  of  some  four  years,  and  his  name  paraded  in 
capitals  on  the  cover  of  each  number,  as  sanctioning  and  patroniz- 
ing the  work ;  his  friend  Coyne  sends  him  "  the  numbers  of  the  said 
Rhemish  Testament,"  with  the  endorsement  of  "Dr.  Troy,  the 
Catholic  Lord  Primate  of  Ireland,"  upon  the  covers,  and  a  letter 
calling  his  special  attention  to  the  contents  of  these  covers  ;  and  a 
few  days  afterward  his  grace  ignores  the  whole  matter  of  M'Na- 
mara's  publication,  with  his  own  endorsement,  solemnly  declaring 
that  he  had  just  then,  "for  the  first  time,  read  and  considered  these 
notes."  Now,  if  any  one  in  his  senses  can  persuade  himself  that 
"His  Grace,  Dr.  Troy,  Catholic  Lord  Primate  of  Ireland,"  honestly 
tells  the  truth  in  this  matter,  we  must  say  that  we  sincerely  pity  his 
simplicity. 

But  who  could  suppose  that,  at  the  very  moment  when  these  trans- 
actions were  passing.  Dr.  Troy  was  lending  his  authority  to  the 
publication  of  a  new  edition  of  the  same  Bible,  notes  and  all,  at 
Cork,  by  the  famous  bankrupt,  M'Namara.  Strange  as  it  may 
Beem,  this  was  the  fact.  This  fact  is  proved  by  new  advertise- 
ments, precisely  like  the  one  already  given,  with  the  exception  of 
Buch  alterations  as  changes  in  the  position  of  some  of  the  eminent 
endorsers  required,  with  a  few  verbal  changes  -svholly  unimportant. 
J  here  is  an  addition  to  the  form  of  the  first  advertisement  which  is 


1856.]  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  207 

especially  noticeable :  "  By  permission  of  His  Grace,  Dr.  Troy, 
Catholic  Lord  Primate  of  Ireland,  this  work  is  carefully  revising  by 
Ilev.  P.  A.  Walsh,  Denmark-street,  Dublin."  In  his  disclaimer 
Dr.  Troy  says  :  "  I  not  only  do  not  sanction  them" — the  Rhemish 
notes — "  but  solemnly  declare  that  I  utterly  reject  them,  generally 
as  harsh  and  irritating  in  expression,  some  of  them  as  false  and 
absurd  in  reasoning,  and  many  of  them  as  uncharitable  in  sen- 
timent :"  and  he,  together  with  eleven  dignitaries  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  patronize  the  new  edition  of  these  very  notes — pub- 
lished at  Cork — as  being  "  according  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  which  is  our  infallible  and  unerring  guide  in  read- 
ing the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  leading  us  unto  salvation."  This 
disclaimer,  however,  was  for  the  public;  the  notes  were  for  "the 
faithful." 

The  next  character  who  figures  in  this  grand  farce  is  the  celebrated 
Daniel  O'Connell.  The  Dublin  Evening  Post  of  Dec.  6,  1S17,  gives 
the  following  notice  of  the  proceedings  of  the  '■  Catholic  Board :" 
"Mr.  O'Connell  moved  for  a  committee  to  disclaim  the  Rhemish 
notes.  *  *  *  They  should  not  let  tlic  present  opportunity  pass  of 
recording  their  abhorrence  of  the  bigoted  and  intolerant  doctrines 
promulgated  in  that  work.  '  There  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.'  He 
would  not  remain  a  Catholic  an  hour  longer,  if  he  thought  it  essential 
to  the  Catholic  faith  to  believe  that  it  was  lawful  to  murder  Prot- 
estants, or  that  faith  might  be  innocently  broken  with  heretics. 
Yet  such  were  the  doctrines  to  be  deduced  from  the  notes  to  the 
Rhemish  Testament."  The  movement  met  with  opposition  in  the 
"  Catholic  Board,"  and,  after  a  variety  of  muua'uvrings,  was  suflered 
to  die.  O'Connell  could  not  have  been  ignorant  of  the  oiEcial  pa- 
tronage which  was  at  that  moment  being  extended  to  "  the  bigoted  and 
intolerant  doctrines"  of  the  said  notes  ;  and  whether  or  not  he  was 
serious  in  his  efforts  to  proctire  their  condemnation  by  the  "  Catholic 
Board,"  the  bishops  found  means  to  stave  off  the  action  sought  to 
be  obtained.  They  preferred  to  handle  the  subject  themselves 
rather  than  to  trust  it  with  the  impetuous  O'Connell,  whose  language 
upon  the  subject  had  not  been  characterized  by  that  Jesuitical  dupli- 
city and  reserve  in  which  they  were  so  eminently  skilled,  and  which 
better  befitted  the  occasion. 

The  Irish  edition  of  the  Douay  Bible  assumed  so  much  importance 
that  the  House  of  Commons  appointed  a  committee  to  examine  the 
subject,  and,  if  possible,  ascertain  whether  the  Rhemish  notes  had 
been  officially  patronized.  This  committee  was  appointed  in  1825, 
and  Rev.  Dr.  Murray,  Coadjutor  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  appeared 
before  them  and  submitted   to  an  examination.     The  reader  will 


208  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  CApril, 

observe  that  the  committee  knew  nothing  of  the  editions  of  M'Na- 
xnara's  Bible,  published  in  the  years  1813  and  1818,  with  the  sanc- 
tion of  all  the  dignitaries  of  the  lloman  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland, 
and  that  Dr.  Murray's  answers  only  refer  to  five  hundred  copies  of 
the  work  published  by  Cumming  in  1816.  Hence  the  learned 
coadjutor  follows  the  example  of  his  primate  in  his  disclaimer,  and 
answers  according  to  the  information  of  his  interrogators.  We  here 
give  so  much  of  the  examination  as  is  necessary  to  our  purpose : 

" '  Are  you  avrare  that  an  edition  of  the  Testament  with  notes  was  published 
in  Dublin  in  about  181C,  by  Dr.  Troy?'  '  I  am.  That  edition  was  published 
under  a  misconception.  Dr.  Troy  had  jriven  his  sanction  to  an  edition  of  the 
Bible,  supposing  ic  to  be  the  same  that  he  had  before  sanctioned ;  but  as  soou 
as  he  found  his  mistake  he  withdrew  his  approbation,  and  I  do  not  find  that 
the  edition  is  in  use  among  Koman  Catholics.' 

•"  Were  not  those  notes  the  nsual  notes  in  use  among  Roman  Catholics? 
Were  they  not  extracted  literally  from  those  of  the  Douay  version  ?'  []\Iark 
the  answer.]  '  They  were  not  used  in  Ireland  before ;  for  there  had  not  been 
in  that  country  any  previous  edition  of  them.' " 

The  learned  coadjutor  dodges  the  point  as  to  the  identity  of  the 
notes,  and  falsifies  the  fact,  as  to  the  use  of  the  Rhemish  Testament, 
and  a  previous  edition.  The  Rhemish  Testament  had  long  been 
in  use,  in  England  and  Ireland,  among  Catholics,  and  as  Dr.  Murray 
speaks  now  of  Cummings's  edition  of  five  hundred  copies,  he  knew 
very  well  that  M'Kamara\i  edition  had  been  circulated  and  "used 
in  Ireland  before,"  and  that  it  v.-as  a  "  previous  edition."' 

"'Do  you  believe  the  edition  of  tlie  Scriptures,  with  those  objectionable 
notes,  is  at  the  present  moment  circulated  under  the  authority  of  any  one  in- 
dividual of  the  Koman  Catholic  clergy  of  Ireland?'  '  ^ly  belief  is,  that  it  is 
not;  I  do  not  know  of  a  sino;lc  instance  of  it,  nor  did  I  ever  happen  to  meet 
with  a  copy  of  it  in  circulation.'" 

Now  there  is  not  only  evasion,  but  downright  falsehood  in  these 
answers.  The  distinguished  gentleman  speaks,  indeed,  of  "  an  edi- 
tion of  the  Testament,  v;ith  notes,  published  in  Dublin  in  about 
181G,"  and  of  "the  edition  of  the  Scriptures  with  these  objec- 
tionable notes;"  and  of  this  "  edition,"  he  says,  it  had  been  published 
under  Dr.  Troy's  authority  by  "  mistake,"  and  that  he  does  not  find 
it  "in  use  among  Roman  Catholics,"  and  his  "belief  is,  that  it  is 
not,  at  the  present  moment,  circulated  under  the  authority  of  any 
one  of  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  of  Ireland."  At  the  same  time, 
another  "  edition  of  the  Scriptures  with  these  objectionable  notes" 
was  being  circulated  among  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  "  under 
the  authority"  of  twelve  archbishops  and  bishops,  and  Drs.  Troy 
and  Murray  were  among  them  !  And  over  and  above  all  this,  the 
prospectus  of  M'Namara's  edition  of  ISIS  boasts  of  the  patronage 


1856.]  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  209 

of  "three  hundred  Roman  Catholic  clergymen  in  different  parts  of 
Ireland." 

Now  what  is  to  be  thought  of  reverend  bishops,  archbishops,  and 
,lord  primates,  who  will  practise  such  monstrous  duplicity  merely 
to  serve  a  turn  ?  They  were,  indeed,  struggling  for  freedom  from 
the  disabilities  which  had  been  imposed  upon  them  by  the  English 
Protestant  government,  and  of  this  no  one  ought  to  complain ;  but 
why  do  they  practise  lying  and  fraud  in  order  to  accomplish  their 
object  ■?  In  this,  however,  they  only  carry  out  the  principles  of  their 
great  authority,  Suarez.     He  says : 

"  To  speak  Tvith  equivocation  5s  not  always  a  lin,  tlierotoro  not  intrinsically 
bad;  therefore  neither  is  to  confirm  it -with  an  oath  perjury,  or  intrinsically- 
bad;  and  the  reason  is,  because  a  lie  is  a  thing  contrary  to  the  mind  of  him 
"who  speaks,  because  he  is  bound  to  use  words  conforuiable  to  his  own  inten- 
tion, and  is  not  always  bound  to  conform  theui  to  the  intention  of  his  hearers. 
But  he  who  uses  equivocal  words  in  a  sense  conformable  to  his  own  intention, 
cannot  be  said  to  speak  contrary  to  his  intention  ;  therelbre,  he  neither  lies, 
nor  puts  forth  a  lie ;  therefore  to  speak  thus  is  not  intrinsically  evil ;  for  it  is 
only  on  account  of  its  being  a  lie  that  it  could  be  evil.  Whence  we  conclude, 
that  to  confirm  such  a  form  of  speaking  by  an  oath  is  not  perjury,  because  by 
such  an  oath  God  is  not  called  as  a  witness  to  a  lie  ;  for  that  is  not  a  lie,  and 
there  can  be  no  perjury  without  the  charge  of  a  lie.  Wo  &pcak  stricdv  and 
properly  of  perjury.  Whence  we  conclude  that  .such  an  oath  is  not  intrinsi- 
cally bad,  because  it  has  truth,  and  can  easily  have  the  other  concomitants  of 
an  oath,  as  is 'evident." — Suarez,  lib.  Hi,  de  jur.pritccpi.  eL  peccat.  eicorUrar.,  ch. 
9,  assert.  1,  no.  2, p.  475. 

Now  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray  being  only  "  bound  to  use  words 
conformable  to  their  own  intention,"  and  not  "bound  to  conform 
them  to  the  intention  of  their  hearers,"  what  tlicy  said  was  not  "  a 
lie"  nor  "  intrinsically  bad."  According  to  the  rules  of  law,  relig- 
ion, and  common  sense,  these  learned  doctors  did  perpetrate  gross 
falsehoods,  and  were  fearfully  Avicked  in  the  whole  transaction ;  but 
they  practised  upon  another  code  of  morals. 

The  ne.xt  scene  of  the  drama  is  laid  in  the  city  of  Glasgow. 
The  Rev.  R.  J.  M'Ghee  had  possessed  himself  of  the  numbers  of 
the  Douay  Bible  printed  in  Ireland  between  1813  and  ISIS,  and 
in  the  advertisements  upon  the  covers  he  found  the  clearest  evidence 
of  the  complicity  of  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray  in  the  publication  of 
the  notes  which  they  had  so  explicitly  repudiated.  The  disclaimers 
of  these  gentlemen  had  produced  their  desired  effect.  The  House 
of  Commons  had  been  completely  gulled,  and  the  British  nation  had 
rested  upon  the  truth  of  the  denials  of  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray  for 
the  space  of  eleven  years. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Protestarit  Association  in  Glasgow,  on  the 
26th  of  January,  1836,  Mr.  M'Ghee  brought  forth  his  documents, 
and  produced  so  clear  a  conviction  of  the  grossest  deception  and 


210  .  Rojnanism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 

falsehood  on  the  part  of  the  Roman  Catholic  officials,  that  the  asso- 
ciation took  deciJed  action  upon  the  subject.  A  series  of  resolu- 
tions was  passed  which  embodied  the  principal  facts,  and  consti- 
tuted an  overwhelming  argument  against  Romanism  in  Ireland. 
Dr.  Troy  had  gone  to  his  account,  and  Dr.  Murray  had  succeeded 
him  in  the  office  of  Archbishop  of  Dublin-,  When  the  proceedings 
of  the  Protestant  Association  met  the  public  eye.  Dr.  Murray's 
friends  became  alarmed.  Dr.  Murdoch,  Archbishop  of  Glasgow, 
wrote  to  Dr.  3Iurray,  "  expressing  a  wish  to  know  the  history  of  the 
insertion  of  the  obnoxious  notes  into  the  edition  of  the  Rible  pub- 
lished in  1818  at  Cork  by  Mr.  M'Namara."  To  this  inquiry  his 
grace  replies :  "  I  beg  to  assure  you,  in  reply,  that  I  am  wholly  un- 
acquainted with  the  history  to  which  you  allude.  I  had  no  connex- 
ion whatever  with  that  edition,  and  I  never  once  saw  it  until  your 
letter  induced  me  to  send  in  search  of  a  copy  of  it,  which,  after 
some  difficulty,  I  procured." 

Dr.  Murray's  letter  was  published  in  the  Glasgoio  Argus,  and 
Mr.  M'Gheo  replied  in  a  telling  review  of  all  the  facts,  which  go  to 
show  the  moral  impossibility  of  the  truth  of  Dr.  Murray's  profes- 
sions of  ignorance  of  the  said  edition  of  the  Douay  Bible.  This 
Bible  was  circulated  everywhere  throughout  Ireland,  and  the  names 
of  the  Most  Rev.  Dr.  O'lleilly,  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  and  Primate 
of  all  Ireland ;  the  .Most  Rev.  Dr.  Troy,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  and 
Primate  of  Ireland :  and  the  Most  Rev.  Dr.  Murray,  Coadjutor 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  stand  at  the  head  of  a  list  of  three  hundred 
and  sixty  subscribers  for  the  city  of  Dublin  alone. 

There  had  been  a  great  excitement  in  relation  to  the  publication 
of  the  Rhemish  notes  in  1817.  Dr.  Troy  had  publicly  abjured 
them,  and  denied  any  connexion  with  their  publication.  Dr.  Mur- 
ray had  confirmed  Dr.  Troy's  statements  before  the  committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons  in  IS'25.  And  yet  these  notes  came  out, 
■with  a  list  of  sutjscribers,  among  whom  were  these  very  men,  Drs. 
Troy  and  Murray,  with  a  profession  of  enjoying  the  official  patron- 
age of  these  learned  archbishops,  and  these  argus-eyed  gentlemen 
knew  nothing  of  the  matter !  Is  it  not  really  marvellous  how  easy 
it  was  for  Roman  Catholic  archbishops  to  find  out  some  things  and 
to  be  in  the  most  profound  ignorance  of  others  equally  accessible, 
and  of  far  greater  importance  to  them  and  their  Church.  Here  is  a 
Roman  Catholic  publisher  circulating  "harsh,"  "false,"  "absurd," 
and  "uncharitable"  notes,  professedly  in  the  name  and  under  the 
sanction  of  the  chief  shepherds  of  the  fiock,  and  yet  they  have  no 
means  of  finding  out  the  facts.  The  scandalous  matter  comes  into 
their  palaces    and  is   circulated  largely  in  their   own    immediate 


J  856.3  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  211 

neighbourhood — in  connexion  with  "  The  Catholic  Bible,"  and  that, 
too,  being  "  the  most  superb  and  elegant  edition  of  the  Catholic  Bible 
ever  published  in  the  English  language" — and  yet  they  have  no 
eyes  to  see  the  mischief,  nor  have  they  a  friend  to  give  them  the 
information,  during  the  lapse  of  tiventy-thrce  years  !  In  relation 
to  the  publication  of  the  llhemish  notes,  a  strange  ignorance  per- 
vades the  mind  of  the  learned  archbishop,  but  how  soon  he  becomes 
acquainted  Avith  the  proceedings  of  the  Protestant  Association  in 
Glasgow!  The  meeting  oT  that  association  took  place  on  ihe*iJoth 
of  January,  1836,  and  Dr.  Murray  had  knovrlcdgo  of  the  matter  of 
its  proceedings  sufBciently  early  to  write  his  explanations  to  Dr. 
Murdock  on  the  6th  of  February  following.  Men  who  keep  up  a 
perfect  system  of  espionage  over  the  press,  can  stand  in  a  false  and 
an  injurious  position  for  a  score  of  years,  in  their  own  Bible,  and 
that  Bible  lying  upon  their  shelves — and  circulated  among  their 
people — and  yet  they  know  nothing  of  the  matter.  Those  who  can 
persuade  themselves  to  believe  all  this  may  well  believe  that  St. 
George  sailed  across  the  British  Channel  on  his  cloak,  and  took 
along  with  him  a  dozen  lusty  monks  for  ballast. 

This  whole  affair  was  shown  up  in  E.xcter  Hall,  in  London,  in 
July,  1S36,  and  ]Mr.  O'Connell  was  invited  to  attend  the  meeting, 
but  declined.  He,  however,  published  a  long  letter  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Page,  Secretary  to  the  Protestant  Association,  in  which  he  employs 
all  the  arts  of  sophistry  which  he  could  command  to  mystify  the 
subject,  and  deals  out  unmeasured  abuse  to  Mr.  M'Ghee.  The 
reverend  gentleman  answers  the  charges  and  meets  the  evasions  of 
the  great  Irish  agitator  seriatim,  and  most  effectually  uses  him  up. 
To  all  this  Mr.  O'Connell  makes  no  reply. 

The  last  chapter  in  this  curious  piece  of  history  is  a  discussion 
of  the  Rhemish  notes  in  the  Dublin  Review,  and  the  Dublin  and 
London  Orthodox  Journal — both  Roman  Catholic  organs.  In  an 
article  in  the  Review,  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  O'Connell, 
these  notes  are  treated  in  much  the  same  style  as  that  in  which  they 
had  been  treated  on  a  former  occasion  by  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray. 
Here  is  the  story,  as  told  for  effect,  and,  of  course,  it  is  the  most 
favourable  version  that  can  be  given  of  these  Rhemish  notes,  in  a 
controversy  with  Protestants.     The  reviewer  proceeds : 

"  An  Enprlish  version  of  the  Now  Testament,  containinfr  son^e  of  the  notes 
in  question,  was  published  at  Kheims,  in  the  year  l-iS2,  throu^ih  the  asoncy 
chietly  of  Drs.  Allen,  Bristow,  Siudors,  and  K'>ynold5,  all  dUtinfjuuhed  for 
animo.iili/  to  Elizabeth.  The  re.>ider.ts  of  the  Ilheuiish  college  -were  recalled 
by  the  magistrates  to  Douay  in  the  year  l'A)'S,  and  in  1G09-10  appeared 
there,  in  two  volumes  4to,  an  English  translation  of  the  Old  Testament,  in 
•which  also  several  notes  -were  inserted,  hrcalhinrj  the  same  spirit  of  haired  to 
the  rclicrion  and  izovernment  then  established  in  England. 


212  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 

"  The  notes  of  the  2\cw  Testament  -were  undoubtedly  intended  to  prepare 
the  public  mind  for  the  invasion  meditated  by  Philip  II.,  v.hen  he  projected 
the  sfhemc  of  the  Armada.  They  were  in  unison  with  the  celebrated  sen- 
tence and  declaration  of  Pope  Sixius  Quintus,  which  designated  Elizabeth  as 
an  illegitimate  daughter  of  Henry  ^'JII. ;  as  a  usurper  and  unjust  ruler,  who 
ought  to  be  dejjosed ;  and  as  a  heretic  and  schismatic,  whom  it  was  not  only 
lawful,  but  commendable,  to  dcsiroy.  This  document  was  circulated  iu 
England,  accompanied  h;i  an  admonition  from  Cardinal  Allen  to  the  same 
effect,  addressed  to  the  nobility  and  gentry.  It  is  perfecfbj  clear,  therefore, 
that  the  notes  had  their  origin  in  the  jiolitical  hatreds  of  those  unhappy  times, 
of  wh^ch  religion  v.as  made  tlic  degraded  instrument  of  both  sides.  If  v.e  are 
to  blush  for  the  fuf.xzy  of  prtksts,  who  contaminated  the  word  of  God 
by  their  atrocious  interpretations,  must  not  the  Protestants  of  our  day 
blush  also  for  the  infamous  laws  which  punished  with  torture  and  wi:h  death 
men  whose  only  guilt,  orirjinnlbj,  was,  that,  they  pursued  the  ancient  religion  of 
their  country  ?  Terrible  cnwes  were  perpetrated,  unchristian  doctrives  ii-ere 
promulgated,  by  both  the  contending  parties.     This  is  A  fact  which  Ar>- 

MITS  OF   NO  DISPUTK." 

This  is  precisclv,  and  in  terms,  the  explanation  given  of  the 
origin  of  the  llhemish  notes  by  Bishop — now  Archbishop — Hughes 
before  the  Common  Council  of  the  city  of  New- York,  when  the 
school  question  was  before  that  body  in  1S41.  The  history  of  that 
debate  is  in  perfect  accordance  with  that  which  we  have  been 
reviewing.  When  Bishop  Hughes  made  his  earliest  efforts  to  pro- 
cure an  appropriation  of  the  public  money  for  his  sectarian  schools, 
the  JNew-York  Preachers'  Meeting  appointed  Dr.  Bond,  Dr.  Bangs, 
and  the  writer,  to  confront  his  gi-ace  before  the  Common  Council — 
the  body  to  whom  he  made  his  application.  Dr.  Bond  drew  up  a 
respectful  but  pointed  address  to  that  body,  which  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  committee  joined  him  in  signing,  remonstrating  against 
the  measure,  and  asking  for  a  hearing.  The  hearing  was  granted, 
and  the  parties  were  fairly  pitted  for  the  combat.  The  address 
made  allusion  to  the  e.xcluaive  and  persecuting  character  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church ;  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and 
the  murders  of  St.  Bartholomew's ;  and  urged  that  Roman  Catho- 
lics were  the  last  to  be  allowed  an  appropriation  from  the  state 
funds  for  the  support  of  their  schools;  which  was  but  another 
form  of  supporting  their  religion.  On  the  second  evening  Dr. 
Bond  produced  a  copy  of  the  Bhcmish  Testament,  and  commenced 
reading  some  of  its  persecuting  notes.  The  bishop  was  not  to  be 
caught  napping.  He  lifted  up  his  cloak,  which  was  folded  on  his 
seat,  and  took  from  under  it  a  copy  of  the  same  edition  of  the  work, 
and  requested  Dr.  Bond  to  give  the  page.  The  request  was  complied 
"with,  and  the  bishop  followed  Dr.  Bond  to  see  if  he  read  correctly. 

When  Bishop  Hughes  proceeded  to  reply,  he  called  the  attention 
of  the  board  and  the  spectators  to  the  fact,  that  the  book  out  of 
which   Dr.    Bond    had    read    to    them  was  printed   by  Lord   and 


1856.3  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  213 

Leavitt,  of  New- York,  a  Protestant  house,  and,  of  course,  -was  not 
an  authorized  publication.  After  thus  affectinr;  to  bring  into  ques- 
tion the  authority  of  the  publication,  he  proceeded  to  an  explanation 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  Ilhemish  notes  came  into  being.  His 
explanation  was  copied  from  the  Dublin  Review,  pretty  much 
verbatim.  We  particularly  recollect  the  impressions  made  upon 
our  mind  by  the  statement,  that  "  the  notes  of  the  New  Testament 
were  undoubtedly  intended  to  prepare  the  public  mind  for  the 
invasion  [of  England]  meditated  by  riiilip  11.,  when  he  projected 
the  scheme  of  the  Armada."  The  whole  secret  was  here  let  out. 
These  notes  on  the  New  Testament  were  designed  to  prepare  the 
Catholics  in  England  to  cut  the  throats  of  their  Proteszant  fellow- 
subjects,  so  soon  as  the  opportunity  should  occur  by  the  landing 
of  the  Spanish  troops !  According  to  the  Dublin  Review  and 
Bishop  Hughes,  the  plan  was  to  make  the  New  Testament  contrib- 
ute to  the  destruction  and  extermination  of  the  Protestants  of  the 
British  Isles  by  such  a  construction  of  its  doctrines  as  would  make 
rebellion  and  murder  a  religious  duty!  Is  this  the  best  account 
which  can  be  given  of  the  labours  of  a  class  of  pious  confessors, 
who  had  been  banished  from  their  homes  for  conscience'  sake,  and 
were  almost  suffering  daily  martyrdom  for  the  love  of  Christ  and 
the  sake  of  his  Gospel ! 

The  construction  given  of  these  celebrated  notes  by  the  Dublin 
reviewer,  and  also  by  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray,  is  most  severely 
arraigned  by  the  London  and  Dublin  Orthodox  Journal.  The 
Journal  copies  the  paragraphs  above  ("jiiutcd  from  the  Review,  and 
proceeds  to  controvert  the  positions  tlicre  taken,  so  far  as  they  re- 
flect upon  the  authors  of  the  notes,  or  call  in  question  their  ortho- 
doxy. The  sturdy  Romanise  of  the  Journal  faces  the  music  without 
fear  or  favour,  and  justifies  the  authors  of  the  "  atrocious  notes," 
and  the  notes  themselves.  There  is  honesty  in  this,  and  that 
quality  in  a  Roman  Catholic  is  always  worthy  of  note.  We  should 
like  to  give  our  readers  the  whole  article,  but  our  limits  will  only 
admit  of  a  few  lines  which  present  the  point  of  the  argument: 

"  But  who  are  the  '■frenzied  priests'  and  -what  are  the  '  atrocious  interpret- 
ations'  by  which  the  -word  of  God  lias  been  thus  contaminated?  As  to 
the  latter,  they  were  designated  by  the  niudfru  publisher,  and  truly  so,  too, 
'  the  eloquent,  copious,  and  instructim  note-;  or  annotations ;'  they  have  been 
the  text-book  of  Catholics  tor  two  centuries  and  a  half;  and  is  it  to  be  for 
one  moment  supposed  that  this  learned  and  elaborate  work  v.ould  have  been 
alloweil  to  circulate,  without  condemnation  by  the  jiroper  authorities,  if  the 
expositions  of  the  sacred  and  mysterious  word  had  been  other  than  .-^ou.VD 
and  ORTHODOX,  and  neither  "■  a'trocioiia'  nor  ^  dctmyiublc,'  as  they  are  termed 
in  another  place  in  this  Ke\iew." 


214  Romaiiism  False  and  Persecuting.  [April, 

Here  is  a  bold,  unvarnished  defence  of  the  'atrocious'  notes — just 
Buch  a  defence  as  we  should  be  likely  to  have  from  Browuson  and 
M'Master,  should  they  speak  upon  the  subject.  The  miserable 
boggling  of  O'Oonnell  and  Bishop  Hughes  -vvould  not  suit  them. 
They  -would  meet  the  question  boldly.  Their  language  to  the 
timid  trucklers  of  these  times  would  be :  "Gentlemen,  stand  up  to 
the  mark !  no  dodging  now  I  It  is  no  time  to  repudiate  a  work 
which  'has  been  the  te.xt-book  of  Catholics  for  two  centuries  and 
a  half.'  It  is  cowardly  now  to  condemn  those  glorious  old  refu- 
gees who  endured  so  much  for  the  truth,  and  fought  the  great  bat- 
tles of  the  sixteenth  contuiy.  Let  justice  be  done,  though  the 
heavens  fall." 

"What  now  are  the  conclusions  to  which  we  are  brought  from  the 
history  which  we  have  here  sketched  ?  It  is  evident  beyond  a  doubt, 
that  the  Douay  Bible  was  published  in  Ireland,  with  the  original 
notes,  under  the  sanction  and  patronage  of  the  primates,  archbishops, 
bishops,  and  priests  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  When  it  is  con- 
sidered that  this  fact  was  paraded  upon  the  cover  of  every  number 
of  the  work,  and  that  the  names  of  these  gentlemen  st^nd  upon  the 
list  of  subscribers,  with  their  appropriate  titles,  in  one  edition  of  three 
thousand  copies  in  1813,  and  another  of  about  the  same  number  in 
1818,  and  that  the  latter  edition  was  being  delivered  to  subscribers 
at  the  time  of  the  excitement  upon  the  subject  occasioned  by  the 
publications  of  the  Courier  and  the  British  Critic,  and  Dr.  Troy's 
disclaimer;  that  so  many  copies  of  these  advertisements  could  be 
afloat  among  the  Irish  Catholics,  both  clergy  and  laifcy,  for  so 
many  years,  and  they  be  false  in  the  most  important  part  of  their 
showing,  and  the  scandalous  and  injurious  falsehood  concerning  the 
high  functionaries  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  yet  the  false- 
hood remain  undiscovered  by  those  interested,  tintil  it  ivas  made 
known  by  Protestants,  is  something  that  the  utmost  stretch  of  human 
credulity  can  scarcely  credit. 

If,  then,  it  was  a  fact,  that  the  said  Jiible,  with  its  notes,  was  pub- 
lished under  the  sanction  of  the  dignitaries  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  in  Ireland,  the  solemn  public  denial  of  the  fixct  on  the  part 
of  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray,,  and  the  total  silence  of  all  the  other 
ecclesiastics  of  the  Church,  both  high  and  low,  knowing,  as  they  all 
did,  that  these  distinguished  archbishops  had  designed  to  deceive  that 
portion  of  the  public  not  attached  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
makes  them  all  guilty  parties  to  the  wicked  transaction,  and  shows 
an  awful  state  of  depravity  among  Irish  Roman  Catholics. 

Again:  it  is  but  too  evident  that  the  whole  business  of  repudiating 
the  notes  of  the  Douay  Bible,  on  the  part  of  Drs.  Troy  and  Murray, 


1856.1  Romanism  False  and  Persecuting.  215 

Daniel  O'Connell,  and  the  Dublin  Review,  was  a  mere  matter  of 
policy,  to  turn  away  the  odium  of  those  flagitious  notes  from  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  to  secure  the  act  of  Roman  Catholic 
emancipation.  If  this  were  not  the  case,  why  were  these  "  atrocious  " 
notes  not  suppressed  when  the  first  Irish  edition  of  the  Bible  was 
issued,  under  authority,  and  revised  by  an  appointee  of  the  Archbish- 
op of  Dublin?  and  when  they  made  their  appearance,  why  were 
they  not  promptly  criticised  and  condemned  ?  Why  vras  O'Connell 
so  late  in  manifesting  his  horror  of  these  notes  ?  W'hy  did  no  pious 
Roman  Catholic  in  Ireb.nd  or  England  see  the  wickedness  of  these 
notes  until  Protestant  editors  dragged  them  out  into  the  light,  and  it 
was  obvious  that  they  were  about  to  prejudice  the  cause  of  Catholic 
emancipation?  We  could  wish  there  was  some  evidence  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  apparently  frank  and  explicit  disapproval  of  the  lan- 
guage and  sentiments  of  the  said  notes  made  by  the  archbishops  and 
by  the  great  self-styled  Irish  patriot — or  "  Ireland's  paid  friend." 

Finally,  after  all,  it  is  obvious  that  the  said  notes  in  the  Douay 
Bible  are  regarded  as  •'  orthodox,"  and  are  supported  by  the  lead- 
ing influences  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland,  and  proba- 
bly elsevt-here. 

The  worst  of  the  original  notes  of  the  Rhcmish  JS'ew  Testament, 
and  the  Douay  Old  Testament,  have  been  published  in  numerous 
editions,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  tliey  ever  have  been  omitted 
except  in  editions  which  were  flung  into  the  market,  and  were  liable 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Protestants.  The  character  of  the 
notes  in  question  was  vindicated  in  the  London  and  Dublin  Ortho- 
dox Journal,  and  it  is  there  asserted  that  "  they  have  been  the  text- 
book of  Catholics  for  two  centuries  and  a  half,"  and  that  they  "have 
been  allowed  to  circulate  without  condemnation  by  the  proper  author- 
ities." This  being  the  case,  Roman  Catholics  in  all  countries  are 
responsible  for  them.  The  Douay  Bible,  with  its  original  notes,  is 
an  authorized  publication  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  And 
why  should  it  not  bo?  It  breathes  the  spirit  and  speaks  the 
language  of  that  Church.  The  policy  supported  in  the  notes  has 
been  the  policy  of  Romanism  from  its  beginning.  It  has  always 
invested  the  priesthood  with  the  civil  power  to  enforce  conformity 
and  submission  to  their  ghostly  rule,  when  it  could  do  so.  It  has 
always  perscaUed,  cursed,  and  murdered  heretics  when  it  has  had 
the  power.  It  has  always  borne  u-ith  firretics,  as  a  more  matter 
of  necessity,  when  it  could  not  drsfro/  them  "without  disturbance 
and  ha7;ard  of  the  good."  and  under  no  other  circumstances.  And 
why  should  the  notes  in  this  Bible,  which  teach  these  things,  be  re- 
pudiated by  Romanists  in  any  country  or  under  any  circumstances? 


216  De  Maistre  and  French.  TJltramontanism.  [April, 

Such  is  Koman  Catholicism  here,  in  free  America.  It  tolerates 
Protestantism  simply  because  it  must,  anxiously  -waiting  for  the  time 
when,  by  fire  and  sword,  it  can  convert  the  -weak  republican  Prot- 
estants of  this  land,  and  save  them  from  perdition,  and  put  obstinate 
heretics  along  -with  "  other  malefactors,"  -where  they  "will  do  no 
further  harm  to  "  the  faithful." 


A   ART.   UL— COUNT   JOSEPH    DE    iMAISTRE   AND   FRENCH 
ULTR  A.Al  ON  TANI SM. 

CEuvres  compVdcs  du  Comte  Joseph  de  ^faisire,  1  vol.  8vo.  Paris  :  Mione. 

Under  the  piquant  title,  "  Prophets  of  the  Past,"  a  young  French 
■writer  published,  a  few  years  ago,  several  sketches  which  forro,  taken 
together,  a  gallery  of  portraits  of  no  slight  interest.  These  sketches, 
however,  all  belonged  to  the  same  school ;  and  there  vv-as  about  them 
a  family  likeness,  only  slightly  modified  at  intervals  by  a  few  pecu- 
liar idiosyncracics.  ^1.  Jules  Lavbicr  d'Aurevilly,  introducing  us  to 
the  "  Prophets  of  the  Past,"  reminded  us  of  Don  Ruy  Gomez,  in 
Victor  Hugo's  play,  describing  to  the  King  of  Spain,  with  true  an- 
cestral pride,  all  the  worthies  of  tlie  Silva  family.  The  sole  differ- 
ence is  this  :  the  Spanish  hidalgo,  stopping  merely  at  the  most  illus- 
trious of  his  race,  could  say  with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  "Ten 
passe,  et  des  rncillcurs ;"  our  friend,  D'Aurevilly,  on  the  contrary, 
has  given  us  all  the  •'  7nciUcurs,"  the  best;  and  somewhat  thin  as  is 
his  gallery  of  ultramontanist  lions,  he  would  certainly  have  dete- 
riorated from  its  worth  had  he  attempted  to  put  in,  by  way  of  mak- 
ing it  complete,  the  small  fry  of  litterateurs  and  publicists,  such 
as  the  Deuillots,  the  Nicoles,  and  the  Cretincau-Jolys  of  modern 
times,  who  have  attempted  to  make  us  believe,  that  were  it  not  for 
the  Pope,  the  Avhole  social  edifice  must  fill  to  the  firound. 

Our  purpose,  on  the  present  occasion,  is  to  select  from  among 
the  "Prophets  of  the  Past"  one  portrait  for  close  inspection,  and  we 
shall  endeavour,  while  devoting  a  few  pages  to  an  account  of  the  life 
and  writings  of  Count  Joseph  de  Maistre,  to  explain  as  accurately 
as  we  can,  the  nature  of  the  reactionary  movement  against  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  French  Picvolution  which  began  fiftv  years  ago,  and 
which,  after  the  lapse  of  half  a  century,  has  been  bursting  forth  once 
more  with  fresh  energy,  though  under  the  sanction  of  far  inferior 
talent. 

The  career  cf  Joseph  de  Maistre  is  already  familiar  to  most  En- 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Uhramontanism.  217 

glish  readers.  He  Avas  born  at  Chambery,  the  capital  of  Savoy,  in 
1753,  and  belonged  to  that  aristocracy  -which,  by  its  excesses,  its 
frivolities,  its  gross  profligacy,  had  been,  even  previous  to  the  death 
of  Louis  XIV.,  preparing  the  elements  of  that  fearful  storm  -which 
ultimately  s-n-ept  a-^-ay  at  one  stroke  all  the  landmarks  of  society: 
for  it  is  a  singular  thing,  that  in  speaking  of  J)e  Maistre  we  cannot 
help  identifying  him  -with  France.  Exemplary  in  the  performance 
of  all  his  duties,  distinguished  for  his  uprightness,  his  sense  of 
honour,  his  disinterestedness  under  the  most  trying  circumstances, 
he  had,  no  doubt,  few  features  in  common  witli  the  degraded  noblesse, 
who  had  learned  morality  in  the  pastimes  of  the  ceil  de  hceuf,  and 
high  principle  at  the  feet  of  Madame  Du  ]xirry;  and  yet,  M.  de 
Maistre  was  essentially  French ;  French  by  that  mixture  of  hvmeur 
Gauloisc,  so  happily  blended  together  with  accurate  learning,  and 
an  elegance  which  always  springs  from  the  heart ;  French,  by  the 
very  garb  under  which  he  clothed  his  thoughts ;  French,  by  the 
extreme  versatility  of  his  talent,  and  a  certain  "  quantum  sitf."  of 
what  our  Galilean  friends  call  fatuite,  but  which,  when  carried  to 
extremes,  we  properly  call  impertinence;  we  may  almost  say  that  he 
-was  French  in  spite  of  himself.  As  a  critic  very  aptly  remarks, 
despite  of  his  affected  contempt  for  the  Parisian  qu'en-dira-t-on, 
he  always  felt  anxious  for  the  opinion  they  entertained  about  him ; 
he  would  put  in  a  work  some  passage  carefully  polished  up,  with  a 
view  to  the  Aristarchi  of  the  Jownal  dc  V  Empire  ;  or  on  another 
occasion,  hesitating  as  to  the  propriety  of  allowing  some  startling 
assertion  or  seeming  paradox,  he  would  chuckle  and  say,  "ISIever 
mind  !  let  us  leave  them  that  bone  to  pick  1" 

Count  de  Maistre  received  *a  very  good  education  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Turin ;  he  entered  the  magistracy,  as  it  seems,  a  little 
against  his  own  inclination,  and  was  occupying  a  post  of  distinction 
-when  the  llevolution  broke  out.  In  the  "  age  of  print,"  where  was 
the  young  man  who,  even  under  the  ermine  of  the  law,  amid 
red  tape,  precedents,  and  sittings  in  banco,  had  not  found  time  to 
fire  off  his  pamphlet,  nay,  his  battery  of  pamphlets,  against  shams 
of  every  sort?  In  setting  up  as  a  reformer  of  abuses  and 
an  avenger  of  wrongs,  the  young  barrister  would  only  have  been 
imitating  what  was  everywhere  going  on  around  him ;  but  we 
must  confess  that  the  extraordinary  scenes  he  was  called  upon  to 
witness,  the  unceremonious  manner  in  which  French  republicans 
understood  and  applied  their  favourite  doctrine,  "the  rights  of 
man,"  were  quite  sufficient  to  startle  any  person  possessing  a  toler- 
able perception  of  the  grand  principles  of  justice.  An  army  had 
invaded  Savoy,  the  republic  of  the  Allobroges  was  constituted,  and 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VIIL— 14 


218  De  Maislre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  [April, 

all  the  inhabitants  were  obliged  to  present  themselves  at  the  muni- 
cipality of  their  various  residences  to  take  an  oath  to  the  new  order 
of  things.  This  M.  do  Maistre  never  would  do,  and  when  the  com- 
missaries of  the  ncAV  government  demanded  of  him  a  voluntary  con- 
tribution toward  the  defraying  of  the  war  expenses,  he  unhesitat- 
ingly said,  "  1  will  not  give  money  for  slaying  my  brothers  who 
serve  the  King  of  Sardinia."  This  scene  took  place  at  Chambery. 
Madame  de  Maistre  (the  count  was  married,  since  1TS6,  to  Made- 
moiselle de  ^lorand)  had  travelled  from  Aoste,  in  order  to  share 
the  dangers  of  her  husband,  and  she  was  in  such  a  condition  that 
the  slightest  excitement  might  bring  about  the  most  dangerous  re- 
sults. Under  these  circumstances,  let  our  readers  imagine  what 
must  have  been  a  domiciliaiy  visit,  that  is  to  say,  the  presence  of  a 
band  of  soldiers  invading  the  house,  making  the  walls  ring  again 
with  curses,  threats,  and  choice  sentences  from  the  vocabulary  of 
sans-culottism.  Terror,  before  which  Madame  de  Maistre  had 
never  yielded,  at  last  overcame  her  when  she  saw  her  husband  at  the 
mercy  of  fifteen  ruffians,  whom  his  uncompromising  firmness  only 
stirred  up  to  the  paroxysm  of  rage ;  alarm  brought  ou  the  pains  of 
travail,  and  her  youngest  daughter,  Constance,  was  thus  ushered 
into  the  world  amid  the  din  of  civil  war  and  the  strains  of  La  Mar- 
seillaise. Count  de  Maistre  saw  that  resistance  would  be  in  vain ; 
he  provided  accordingly,  as  best  he  could,  for  the  safety  of  his 
family,  abandoned  his  estates,  and  repaired  to  Lausanne,  where  a 
mission  from  the  King  of  Sardinia  soon  gave  him  an  oflicial  posi- 
tion and  a  responsible  situation.  He  had  to  solicit  the  protection 
of  the  Swiss  Cantons  on  behalf  of  the  unfortunate  emigrants  who, 
driven  from  Savoy  by  the  violence  of  *thc  revolutionary  movement, 
wished  either  to  stay  in  Switzerland,  or  merely  to  pass  on  for  the 
purpose  of  enlisting  in  the  royal  army  in  Piedmont. 

The  youngest  child  of  the  Countess  de  Maistre  not  being  strong 
enough  to  bear  the  fatigue  of  a  tedious  journey,  was  left  behind  under 
the  care  of  her  grandmother  ;  tlic  other  members  of  the  family  joined 
the  count  at  Lausanne,  and  they  were  all  once  more  safe,  but  re- 
duced to  absolute  want.  Amid  all  the  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
French  republicans,  there  was  a  sad  deficiency  of  cash  in  those  days ; 
the  road  to  glory  was  trodden  by  shoeless  vagabonds ;  and  few  in  num- 
ber were  the  "  regulation-jackets  "  which  could  muster  together  on 
a  review  or  an  inspection.  Lut  the  "  sovereign  people  "  were  by 
no  means  contented  enough  to  thrust  patient  hands  into  empty 
pockets,  while  broad  acres  of  pasture-land,  ripe  corn-fields^ 
"Woods,  and  meadows  were  bringing  in  to  monsieur  le  comte  or 
madame  la  marquise  comfortable  incomes  out  of  which  they  could 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  219 

" eat,  driuk,  and  be  merry."  The  denomination  "  liens  nationaux" 
"national  property,"  was  coined,  accordiucrly,  for  all  such  estates,  and 
they  Avere  summarily  confiscated,  to  be  sold  on  behalf  of  the  afore- 
said shoeless  vagabonds.  Thus  it  fared  with  the  De  Maistres ;  but 
it  is  a  pleasant  fact  to  be  able  to  say,  that,  let  corn-fields,  woods, 
meadows,  and  acres  of  pasture-land  go  as  and  Avhen  God  wills  it, 
peace  of  mind  is  not  necessarily  included  in  the  bargain.  You  may 
be  obliged  to  do  without  a  rent-roll ;  but  you  need  never  have  to  en- 
grave a  "  hie  jacet "  on  the  monument  of  your  defunct  conscience. 
Count  de  Maistre  bore  up  with  great  courage  under  the  pressure  of 
adversity.  '■'  My  property  is  all  sold,"  says  he  in  one  of  his  letters ; 
"  I  have  nothing  more."  In  another :  "  All  my  estates  arc  confis- 
cated; but  I  do  not  sleep  the  less  for  that."  The  Lausanne  resi- 
dence is  connected  in  the  biography  of  our  author  v/ith  some  of  his 
best  works :  "  Letters  of  a  Savoyard  Royalist ;"  "  Address  of  the 
Emigrants  to  the  National  Convention;"'  "Jean  Claude  Tieu  ;'' 
and  last,  though  not  least,  the  "  Considerations  siir  la  France.''  De 
Maistre,  as  a  pamphlet  writer,  may  be  compared  in  some  respects  to 
Paul  Louis  Courier ;  he  has  the  same  point,  the  same  finesse,  the 
same  elegance  of  style,  and  an  apparent  simplicity,  which  only  sets 
off  with  greater  effect  the  home- truths  he  addressed  to  his  readers  ; 
but  finished  as  these  minor  works  decidedly  were,  trae  both  as  to 
sentiment  and  language,  they  were  merely  sug,gestcd  by  the  events 
of  the  times,  and,  as  such,  were  likely  to  lose  most  of  their  point  as 
the  course  of  things  moved  in  a  new  direction.  The  "  Considera- 
tions" on  the  contrary,  will  ever  retain  their  interest,  for  they  discuss 
principles  ;  they  belong  to  the  philosophy  of  history.  Whatever 
view  Vr'e  may  take  of  the  conclusions  adopted  by  De  Maistre,  we 
cannot  but  admire  both  the  extent  of  his  learning  and  the  depth  of 
his  thoughts ;  the  work  we  are  now  noticing  fully  deserves  to  be 
placed  by  the  student  on  the  same  shelf  as  Lossuet's  Discourse  on 
Universal  History. 

When  alluding  to  the  "  Considerations,"  we  are  naturally  re- 
minded of  two  other  works  which  appeared  about  the  same  time, 
and  which  were  likewise  vrrittcn  under  the  impression  of  the  provi- 
dential catastrophe  which  marked  the  exit  of  the  last  century.  We 
allude  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  "  Essai  sur  Ics  Revolutio7is,''  and 
to  Madame  de  Stael's  "  De  V Influence  dcs  Passions  sur  le  Bon- 
heur  f  but  neither  of  these  productions  is  written  AS'ith  that  earn- 
estness of  purpose,  that  reference  to  religious  principles,  that  logic, 
that  dogmatism  which  so  essentially  and  invariably  stamps  allM.  de 
Maistre's  works.  ^Vhen  Madame  de  Staol  sat  down  to  describe 
how  far  passions  are  conducive  to  human  happiness,  she  was  still  a 


220  De  Maistre  and  French  UUramontanism.  [April, 

staunch  admirer  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  nor  is  it  difficult  to  see 
in  every  page  of  her  brilliant  essay,  that  she  had  derived  her  notions 
of  happiness  and  peace  from  the  deists  of  the  Encyclopedia.  M.  de 
Maistre,  at  least,  discards  these  sophisms ;  he  does  not  direct  indi- 
viduals and  communities  to  seek  a  guarantee  for  repose  and  pros- 
perity in  their  intercourse  -with  a  god  -whose  impersonality  is  a 
sure  proof  that  he  cannot  sympathize  with  us ;  his  god  is  a  reality, 
and  the  error  into  ^vhich  he  falls  arises — a  common  feature  in  all 
reactionary  movements — from  the  fear  of  allowing  anything  like 
vagueness  to  exist  in  the  minds  of  men  respecting  their  connexion 
vrith  the  Almighty.  He  is  not  satisfied  by  anything  short  of  vrhat 
is  really  tangible,  visible,  perceptible  to  the  senses,  thus  forgetting 
the  character  of  the  true  ^lediator.  Failing  to  understand  that  both 
divinity  and  humanity  have  met  together  only  in  the  man  Christ 
Jesus,  he  would  fain  make  us  believe  that  the  Pope  is  "  God  made 
manifest  in  the  flesh." 

If  wo  turn  now  to  Chateaubriand's  essay,  we  shall  meet  it  with 
objections  of  another  kind,  though  equally  strong.  It  is  a  work 
that  carries  us  far  from  Madame  de  Stael's  noble  enthusiasm  and 
generous  feelings.  Written  with  great  power,  and  displaj^ing  an 
amount  of  learning,  a  justness  of  views  truly  remarkable  in  so 
young  a  man,  the  ''Essai  svr  Irs  Revolutions  "  may  be  considered 
as  a  manifesto  of  religious  ami  political  scepticism.  "  It  matters 
little,"  says  the  author,  "  who  governs  us."=''  And  a  little  further 
on  he  exclaims,  "  The  world  i.s  like  a  large  forest  where  men  lie  in 
wait  to  rob  one  another  ....  The  greatest  misfortune  for  men  is, 
to  have  laws  and  a  government."  Principles  such  as  these  were 
not  calculated  to  form  a  very  solid  substratum  to  any  plan  of  admin- 
istration carried  on  in  opposition  to  the  French  Revolution.  The 
fact  is  that  M.  do  Chateaubriand,  in  spite  of  what  has  been  said  to  the 
contrary,  was  not  a  man  of  faith ;  as  a  writer  he  is  brilliant,  fasci- 
nating, instructive ;  and  he  describes  the  pomps  of  Catholicism  with 
a  fervour  of  imagination  which  gives  almost  a  reality  to  the  objects 
and  the  scenes  he  brings  before  us  ;  but  when  we  hear  Romanists 
speaking  of  Chateaubriand  as  of  a  man  raised  by  Providence  to  de- 
fend the  cause  of  persecuted  religion  and  outraged  order,  we  are  im- 
pressed first  with  a  feeling  of  surprise,  which,  hoAvever,  soon  vanishes 
when  we  reflect  that  for  Roman  Catholics,  a  poet  who  can  paint  in 
glowing  colours  the  "  touching  and  august  ceremonies  "  of  Vatican 
polytheism  almost  deserves  to  bo  canonized,  however  loose  his  mor- 
als and  unsound  his  doctrines.  From  M.  do  Chateaubriand's  ill- 
defined  system  we  turn  with  a  feeling  of  comfort  and  relief  to 
o  Part  U,  chap.  ix. 


1856.]  Be  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  221 

authors  such  as  M.  de  Bonald,  Mallet,  du  Pan,  and  Count  do  Maistre. 
"With  comfort,  -sve  say,  and  yet  no  cue  will  accuse  us  of  adopting, 
either  in  politics  or  in  religion,  the  views  entertained  by  these  emi- 
nent men.  But  they  are  plain-spoken,  at  all  events ;  instead  of 
endeavouring  to  excite  your  imagination  and  your  feelings,  they 
appeal  to  your  reason ;  and  in  matters  connected  with  government, 
either  political  or  religious,  this  is,  after  all,  the  safest  course.  We 
want  to  know  v.'hat  we  are  driving  at,  and  the  programme  of  the 
administration  of  this  sublunary  world  is  better  developed  in 
a  pamphlet  than  in  a  didactic  poem.  As  to  whether  the 
principles  adduced  are  right  or  wrong,  that  is  quite  another  sort  of 
thing. 

M.  de  Maistre  represents  men  as  connected  with  God  by  a  chain 
which  binds  them  to  his  throne,  and  holds  them  without  enslaving 
them.  To  the  full  extent  of  this  chain  we  arc  at  liberty  to  move ; 
we  are  slaves  indeed,  but  avc  are  freely  slaves,  {Ubrcmcnt  esclaves ;) 
we  must  necessarily  work  out  the  purposes  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
and  yet  the  actions  by  which  we  do  work  out  these  pui-poses  arc 
always  free.  So  far,  so  good;  but  here  come  the  peculiarities  of  our 
author's  system.  He  docs  not  consider  men  as  individually  responsi- 
ble before  God;  he  takes  them  as  nations,  and  the  nation,  for  M.  de 
Maistre,  is  made  up  of  the  king  and  the  aristocracy.  Even  considering 
each  order  separately — he  asserts  that  all  the  members  of  the  same 
order  are  indissolubly  bound  together,  each  bearing  a  share  of  the 
mutual  and  joint  responsibility  which  weighs  on  the  whole  order. 
Now,  let  us  suppose  the  case  of  a  revolution.  In  those  terrible 
events  which  follow  the  disregard  of  all  the  laws  of  right  and 
wrong,  although  the  persons  who  fall  victims  to  the  fury  of  the  mul- 
titude may  sometimes  be  those  whose  very  crimes  have  called  down 
the  divine  vengeance,  yet  very  often,  nay,  in  most  cases,  the  indi- 
vidually innocent  suffer  most.  But,  then,  although  individually  in- 
nocent, they  must  come  in  for  the  share  of  the  solidarity  vrhich 
belongs  to  the  whole  order.  This  results  from  the  fact  that  the  doc- 
trine of  atonement  is  the  principle  on  which  rests  the  constitution 
of  society ;  the  sins  of  the  guilty  arc  visited  on  the  innocent,  and 
the  blood  of  the  innocent,  in  its  turn,  atones  for  the  guilty.  Here 
is  to  be  found  the  key- stone  of  Count  do  Maistre's  theory;  the 
Savoyard  publicist  develops  it  with  all  the  resources  of  logic  and 
erudition,  and  it  is  rather  amusing  to  see  how  he  presses  even  ety- 
mology into  his  service.  The  following  passage  must  be  left  un- 
translated, not  to  lose  its  point;  it  is  taken  from  one  of  his  later  works, 
the  Soi'rees  de  Saint  Petershourg,  but  it  refers  immediately  to  the 
subject  we  are  now  considering :  "On  pent  ajoutcr  que  tout  supplies 


222  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.         [April, 

est  supplice  dans  les  deux  sens  du  mot  Latin  supplicium  d'oii 
vient  le  notre :  car  tout  sujiplice  siipplie.  Malheur  done  a  la  na- 
tion qui  abolirait  les  supplices  ;  car  la  dette  de  chaque  coupable 
ne  cessant  de  rctomber  sur  la  nation,  celle-ci  serait  force  de  payer 
sans  misericordc,  et  pourrait  mcme  a  la  fin  se  voir  traiter  comme 
insolvublc  scion  toute  la  ri^ueur  des  lois." 

It  has  been  veil  remarked  that  a  system  such  as  this  is  fatalism 
of  the  very  T\-orst  description.  Not  only  does  it  take  a-vva}-  the  ^ree 
agency  of  men  considered  as  individuals,  but  it  effectually  proclaims 
the  validity  of  the  maxim  which  many  critics  blame  M.  Thiers  for 
enforcing,  namely,  that  might  is  right.  How  can  it  be  asserted  that 
the  Almight}'',  at  the  last  day,  will  call  to  account  for  their  "  deeds 
done  in  the  flesh,"  beings  of  whom  it  is  quietly  said  that  they  acted 
thus  and  thus.  "  for  the  same  reason  that  Yaucanson's  mechanical 
flute-player  made  no  false  notes !"  Even  Bossuet  did  not  resort  to  ex- 
travagances so  wild"  as  this  when,  in  his  discourse  on  Universal  His- 
tory, he  described  God  as  overruling  all  things,  the  progress  of 
events,  and  the  rise  and  downfall  of  nations,  on  behalf  of  his  own 
elect.  The  fact  is,  that  the  historians  and  publicists  of  the  Encyclo- 
pedist school,  those  who  supported  with  the  greatest  energy  the 
principles  of  the  French  Revolution,  had  aimed  at  dethroning  the 
Almighty,  and  M.  de  ]Maistro,  hurried  along  by  the  praiseworthy 
desire  of  exposing  their  absurdities,  transformed  the  whole  of  the 
human  race  into  a  set  of  puppets. 

There  is  much  of  ]\Ir.  Carlylc's  trenchant  manner  in  Count  de 
J.Iaistre,  and  the  sometimes  rabid  denunciations  to  be  met  with  in 
"  The  French  Ftovolution,  a  History,"  find  a  parallel  in  the  "  Con- 
siderations sur  la  France."  The  following  remarkable  letter,  from 
M.  de  Maistre's  lately  published  correspondence,  will  help  to  illus- 
trate the  political  tendencies  of  the  book  we  are  now  reviewing : 

"to  the  r.Ar.ox  de  vigxht. 

"  Lausan-ne,  Octohf.r  2Sih,  1794. 
"  Nothing  prooceds  at  random,  my  doar  friend  ;  all  has  its  rule,  and  all  is 
determined  by  a  I'ower  wlii.h  seldom  tolls  us  its  secret.  The  political  -world 
is  as  much  roL'ulated  as  the  phy.^ical ;  hut  as  the  freedom  of  man  there  plays  a 
certain  part,  -ive  end  by  bclievin;:  that  the  latter  is  all-powerful.  The  idea  of 
do?troyln>r,  or  of  pnrtitionliijr  a  <rr>.'at  onijiire,  is  often  as  absurd  as  that  of 
taking  away  a  planet  from  tlie  ])lan.'tary  system,  though  we  know  not  why.  I 
have  saiil  it  to  you  liLtore ;  iu  a  society  of  nations,  as  of  individuals,  there 
must  be  high  and  lew.  Frau'-c  has  always  held,  and,  to  all  appearances,  \vill 
long  hold  a  foremost  rank  in  the  sm-icty  of  nations.  Other  nations,  or,  to 
speak  more  properly,  their  sovereiirns,  have,  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  mo- 
rality, wished  to  avail  themselves  of  a  burning  fever,  under  which  the  French 
laboured,  in  order  to  fall  upon  their  country  and  divide  it  among  themselves. 
Providence  hath  said,  No.    Always  it  docs  right,  but  never,  in  my  opinion, 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  223 

more  evidently  so  than  at  the  present  moment ;  our  feelings,  for  or  against  the 
French,  ought  not  to  bo  listened  to.  Policy  listens  to  rea.-in  only.  Your  me- 
morial by  no  means  shakes  my  opinion,  -which  is  solely  this :  '  that  the  empire 
of  the  coalition  over  France,  and  the  partition  of  that  kingdom,  would  be  one 
of  the  greatest  evils  that  could  befall  humanity.'  I  have  ili-awn  out  so  perfect 
a  demonstration  of  that  proposition,  that  I  should  not  despair  of  converting 
you ;  but  not  by  v.-ritiuLS  lor  that  -n-ould  be  a  fonnal  treatise. 

"  I  thank  you,  hoAvever,  for  your  memorial,  -which  is  a  very  good  historical 
piece.  Observe,  in  the  mcaawhlle,  that  you  draw  all  your  examples  from  a 
single  reign,  Avhich  is  not  fair.  What  nation,  besides,  has  not  abused  its  power 
■when  it  could  do  so?  If  you  listened  to  the  uativn  .Mcxieaus  and  Poruviaus, 
they  would  prove  to  you  that  the  Spaniards  are  the  most  execrable  of  men. 
What  had  not  Europe  to  suffer  from  Charles  V.,  who,  but  for  the  French, 
•would  have  entirely  conquered  it  ?  All  you  bring  up  against  Louis  XIV. 
cannot  be  set  in  comparison  with  the  three  hundrcil  vessels  captured  bv  the 
English  in  175<j  without  any  declaration  of  war  ;  ^tlll  less  with  tlie  execrable 
partition  of  Poland.  Lastly,  my  dear  friend,  I  repeat  to  you,  we  are  asreed 
•without  knowing  it.  It  is  necessary  that  you  should  desire  the  success  of  the 
coalition  against  France,  because  you  think  it  conducive  to  the  public  wel- 
fare. But  it  is  natural  that  I,  for  my  part,  should  desire  such  success  against 
Jacobinism  only,  because  I  see  in  the  destruction  of  France  the  germ  of  two 
centuries  of  massacres,  a  sanction  given  to  tlie  uia\inis  of  the  most  odious 
MachIavclis.Ti,  the  irrevocable  degradation  of  tl.e  human  species,  and,  what 
will  most  surprise  you,  an  incurable  wound  inflicted  on  religion.  But  all 
this  would  require  a  book. 

"There  is  another  point  on  which,  to  my  regret,  I  find  we  are  not  perfectly 
agreed.  I  mean  that  a  revolution  of  son.o  kind  or  other  appears  inevitable 
in  all  governments.  You  tell  me  on  this  subject,  that  nations  will  have 
need  of  strong  governments  ;  and  I  beg  to  ask  you,  wh.it  do  you  understand 
by  that  expression  ?  If  monarchy  appears  to  you  slronr;  in  proportion  as  it 
is  most  ahxolute,  then  in  that  case  Naples,  2*ladrid.  Lisbon,  etc.,  must  appear 
to  you  vigorous  governments.  Yet  }'ou  know,  and  evcryljody  knows,  that 
those  prodigies  of  weakness  exist  but  by  their  ris  iucrtirc.  Be  assured,  that  to 
strengthen  monarchy  we  must  base  it  upon  laws,  avoid  arbitrary  measures, 
frequent  commissions,  continual  changes  ol'  tunctlonaries,  and  ministerial 
combinations.  See,  I  beg  you,  to  what  a  condition  we  had  come,  and  how 
your  ideas  of  good  government,  though  very  moderate,  and  by  no  means 
affecting  the  prerogatives  of  the  crown,  had  yet  been  rejected." 

This  letter  may  be  taken  as  a  familiar  statement  of  M.  de  Mais- 
tre's  doctrines :  it  is  the  book  of  the  "  Considerations "  made 
easy;  it  develops,  in  a  popular  -^vay,  tho  i^reat  publicist's  views  on 
despotic  governments,  and  vie  discover  in  it  the  true  explanation  of 
the  loading  principles  of  Ultramontanist  policy.  Our  Roman 
Catholic  friends,  chuckling  over  the  letter  to  Baron  do  Yignot,  exclaim 
against  the  error  of  those  who  accu.<e  M.  de  Maistre  of  being  an 
advocate  of  absolute  po-vrer.  His  keen,  penetrating  eye,  they  say, 
did  not  confound  the  vis  inerticc  wbich  in  the  last  century  charac- 
terized the  declining  monarchies  of  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Naples, 
with  that  repose  and  stability  which  are  the  concomitants  of  strength. 
The  Catholic  Church,  in  former  times,  had  infused  into  the  inhab- 
itants of  those  countries  the  spirit  of  discipline  and  of  proper  sub- 


224  De  Maisire  arid  French  Ultramontanism.  [April, 

ordination;  but  this  happy  state  of  things  subsequently  gave  -^ay 
to  political  feebleness  and  inaction,  when  an  absolute  monarch,  after 
having  so  sadly  abridged  the  liberties  of  the  nobles  and  commons, 
made  violent  encroachments  on  the  rights  of  the  Church. 

This  is  the  great  objection  constantly  made  to  us  Protestants  by 
Roman  Catholics,  -when  the  charge  of  absolutism  happens  to  be 
brought  forward  against  the  tenets  of  Ultramontane  policy.  It  is 
easily  answered.  M.  de  Maistre,  no  doubt,  saw  the  folly  of  allow- 
ing supreme  power  to  remain  unchecked  and  unrestrained  in  the 
hands  of  temporal  princes ;  he  knew  too  deeply  the  corruption  of 
the  human  heart  not  to  feel  assured,  that  in  seasons  of  temptation 
the  most  kindly  disposed  tijrant  (we  take  the  word  in  its  original 
meaning)  might  very  easily  be  led  astray  by  evil  suggestions  to 
commit  actions  fraught  with  the  direst  consequences  to  after  gene- 
rations ;  he  had  studied  the  exclamation  of  the  poet, 

<  Ilelas  !  ils  out  des  rois  (.''garo  le  plus  sage. 

So  far,  Comte  de  Maistrc  was  a  decided  opponent  of  absolutism. 
His  error  was,  that  in  wishing  to  transform  all  earthly  governments 
into  one  homogeneous  theocracy,  he  proposed  as  a  control  over 
absolutism,  an  absolutism  of  a  much  more  dangerous  character.  M. 
de  Maistre's  leading  idea  is  a  good  one ;  he  wishes  to  appeal  from 
the  passions  and  depraved  will  of  man  to  the  Deity  itself  as  to  the 
eternal  source  of  right  and  good;  but  not  being,  of  course,  able  to 
receive  immediately  from  God  the  counsel  and  the  laws  he  wishes 
to  reduce  into  practice  for  the  good  of  society,  he  traces  them  to  the 
Pope,  as  the  vicegerent  of  Heaven !  It  is  not  our  purpose  here  to 
expose  the  fallacy  of  the  Papal  system,  nor  to  discuss  once  more  a 
question  wliich  has  already  been  so  often  and  so  satisfactorily  dis- 
posed of  We  wish  only  to  show  that,  by  planning  a  vast  theo- 
cratic system  as  the  real  form  of  government  fit  for  this  world,  M. 
de  Maistre  introduces  the  worst  features  of  absolutism.  We  now 
maintain,  moreover,  that  it  is  this  vrry  spirit,  and  not  the  undue 
development  of  the  governing  power,  which  has  degraded  the  Latin 
nations  to  the  lowest  stage  of  political  v,eakncss  and  moral  decay. 
If  we  review  impartially  the  state  of  the  world  at  the  present  day, 
and  inquire  into  the  actual  condition  of  Protestant  and  Catholic 
nations  comparatively,  we  shall  find  that  the  former  are  in  an  iribreas- 
ing  state  of  prosperity,  while  the  latter  bear  the  unmistakable 
signs  of  a  sure  and  rapid  dissolution.  Will  it  be  credited  that 
some  writers — although  they  are  met  on  every  side  by  facts  beyond 
all  denial — are  found  maintaining  that  Catholic  states  are  possess- 
ed of  a  principle  of  vitality  and  an  element  of  fecundation  superior 


1856.3  De  Maistre  and  French  TJltramontanism.  225 

to  all  other  civil  communities ;  and  that,  as  long  as  it  retains  the 
Catholic  faith,  a  people  possesses  in  its  own  bosom  the  most  potent 
source  of  regeneration  ?  How,  then,  Avill  such  writers  account  for  the 
prostration  of  Italy,  the  upheavings  of  a  whole  peninsula  in  Spain, 
the  contrast  between  Austria  and  Prussia,  between  the  political 
development  of  iN^orth  America  and  the  lawless  brutality  which  pre- 
vails southward  in  the  same  continent  'I  It  cannot  be  too  frequent- 
ly repeated,  that  in  proportion  as  a  nation  has  retained  the  blighting 
tenets  and  corrupt  practices  of  Komanism,  in  the  same  proportion 
it  loses  its  independence,  its  civil  liberty,  its  political  greatness,  and 
even  its  commercial  prosperity. 

Before  dismissing  this  part  of  our  subject,  we  would  notice  one 
or  two  peculiarities  in  the  method  of  Count  do  Maistre,  and  which 
mark  out  his  originality  amid  all  the  writers  of  his  age.  The  first 
is,  that  continual  reference  to  God  and  to  the  providential  superin- 
tendence of  man's  life  here  below,  of  which  we  have  before  spoken. 
From  this  point  of  view  he  is  admirably  placed  to  discuss  the  most 
serious  questions,  and  he  does  so  with  a  power  and  an  eloquence 
to  which  everything  must  yield.  Persons  who  know  Count  de  JMais- 
tre's  writings  only  from  hearsay,  generally  regard  him  in  the  light 
of  some  stern  minister  of  God's  vengeance,  threatening  with  fire 
and  sword,  speaking  to  men  through  the  trumpet  of  the  last  day, 
and  moving  along,  clad  in  the  terrors  of  judicial  power.  One  pas- 
sage from  the  "  Considerations  "  will  prove,  however,  that  the  dread 
philosopher  could  occasionally  unbend  and  use  soothing  language 
instead  of  his  habitual,  unflinching  dogmatism  : 

"  There  is  no  chastisement  which  does  not  purify  ;  there  is  no  disorder  which 
the  principle  of  eternal  love  docs  not  turn  <ni:ain<t  the  spirit  of  evil.  Amid 
the  general  disorganization,  it  is  delightful  to  foresee  the  plans  of  the  Almighty-. 
We  shall  never  be  able  to  understand  everything  dunng  the  course  of  our 
pilgrimage  ;  often  we  shall  fall  into  mistakes  ;  but  are  we  not  reduced  to  surmises 
in  every  possible  branch  of  knowledge,  with  the  excepiion  of  the  exact 
sciences?  And  if  our  surmises  are  plau>il>!p;  if  thoy  arc  in  accordance  with 
the  laws  of  analogy;  if  they  are  sujiiiortcd  by  universal  ideas;  if,  above  all, 
they  are  soothing  and  calculated  to  render  us  better,  what  is  there  wanting 
to  them  ?  Even  if  they  should  not  be  true,  they  are  good  ;  or,  rather,  if  they 
are  good,  is  not  this  a  proof  that  they  are  ti-uc  V" — Considerations,  etc.,  chap.  iii. 

Another  remarkable  point  which  should  not  be  forgotten  in  an 
appreciation  of  M.  de  Maistre's  works,  is  the  soundness  of  his  judg- 
ment and  the  sagacity  with  which  he  assigns,  both  to  events  and  to 
men,  their  proper  influence  over  tiie  whole  course  of  contemporary 
history.  Many  views,  many  principles  now  generally  admitted, 
may  be  traced  back  to  the  "  Considerations,"  and  have  been  borrow- 
ed from  that  extraordinary  book,  often  without  any  acknowledgment. 


226  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism  [April, 

M.  de  Maistre  saw,  for  instance,  that  the  reign  of  terror  was  a  nec- 
essary transition  to  the  re-estabhshmeut  of  monarchical  principles, 
and  that  a  nation  could  not  lonp;  remain  governed  by  the  theories  of 
the  Girondists,  and  by  the  vague  speculations  and  abstract  ideas 
embodied  in  the  "  declaration  of  the  rights  ofman."  M.  de  Maistre, 
we  have  already  said,  was  very  frequently  right  in  his  conclusions. 
This  led  him,  on  the  other  hand,  to  fancy  that  the  future  was  open 
before  his  eyes,  and  he  would  evci-y  now  and  then,  with  the  confi- 
dence of  a  seer,  utter  prophecies  and  sketch  out  events  to  come,  just 
as  if  he  had  been  initiated  into  the  counsels  of  the  Almighty.  From 
the  consideration  of  the  laws  which  preside  over  the  development 
and  progress  of  society,  it  is  sometimes  easy  to  conclude  that  a 
certain  series  of  facts  being  given,  such  and  such  consequences  are 
sure  to  follow ;  but  it  is  equally  rash  and  unsafe  to  apply  univer- 
sally this  way  of  arguing ;  it  shows,  at  all  events,  a  furore  of  dog- 
matism which  often,  when  examined  by  the  sober  eye  of  the  dispas- 
sionate observer,  seems  to  border  upon  downright  madness. 

We  resume,  however,  the  thread  of  our  biographical  narrative. 
M.  de  Maistre,  whom  we  left  in  Switzerland,  went  on  in  1797  to 
Turin  with  his  family.  Like  a  torrent,  the  French  Pv evolution  was 
still  following  its  course,  and  the  tri-coloured  flag  soon  waved  in  the 
territories  of  the  King  of  Sardinia.  This  'monarch,  aided  by  his 
allies,  might  have  resisted,  but  the  whole  of  continental  Europe 
was  yielding  before  the  impetuous  career  of  the  republican 
armies.  The  king  was  obliged  to  seek  refuge  in  the  island  which 
gives  the  name  to  bis  dominion ;  included  among  the  emigrants, 
Count  de  Maistre  had  to  take  up  once  more  the  pilgrim's  staff  and 
to  wander  further  still.  Furnished  with  a  Prussian  passport  as  a 
citizen  of  Neutchatel,  he  embarked  on  the  2Sth  of  December,  1798, 
and,  sailing  down  the  Po,  he  reached  Venice,  amid  dangers  and  anxie- 
ties of  every  description.  On  one  occasion,  a  detachment  of  French 
soldiers  at  a  particular  station  of  the  river  entered  the  vessel,  and 
summoned  the  pas.-;engers  to  e.Klubit  their  passports.  One  of  them 
addressed  the  Count  de  Maistre:  "Citizen,"  exclaimed  he,  "you 
say  you  are  a  subject  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  yet  you  have  an  accurs- 
ed accent.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  send  a  ball  through  that  carriage 
of  aristocrats."  "  You  would  have  done  a  fine  feat,"  replied  the 
count ;  "  you  would  have  wounded  or  killed  two  young  children,  and 
I  am  sure  that  would  have  given  you  pain."  "You  are  right," 
returned  the  soldier;  "I  should  have  been  more  sorry  for  it  than 
the  mother." 

The  biographies  of  M.  de  Maistre  are  full  of  interesting  particu- 
lars respecting  his  sojourn  in  Venice.     Reduced  to  poverty  by  the 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultra jnontanism.  227 

events  of  tlie  French  Revolution,  and  the  laws  against  the  emigres,  he 
had  been  compelled  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  Austrian  ambas- 
sador, who  could  not  prevail  upon  him  to  occupy,  in  his  private  hotel, 
more  than  one  single  room  on  the  ground  floor.  There  he  lived  with  his 
wife  and  two  children,  studying,  writing,  and  giving  to  the  world 
a  noble  example  of  courage,  perseverance,  and  faith,  under  the  most 
trying  circumstances.  To  the  friends  vfho  delighted  to  crowd  around 
him,  and  who  were  wont  to  express  tlicir  kind  .-ym]vathy  for  his  dis- 
tress, he  made  this  really  Christian  answer :  "  All  this  is  but  the 
movement  of  the  wave ;  the  current  may  lift  us  up  much  higher 
to-morrow,  and  then  it  will  be  difficult  for  us  to  steer  our  course." 

From  Venice  we  find  M.  de  Maistre  going  to  Cagliari,  where  for 
two  years  he  filled  a  high  political  post,  which  took  up  almost  all 
his  time,  and  interrupted  his  literary  occupations ;  at  last,  in  1S02, 
he  was  named  minister  plenipotentiary  to  the  court  of  Russia,  and 
started  for  that  country,  where  he  was  destined  to  spend  fourteen 
years,  the  most  laborious,  the  most  distinguished,  the  most  important 
of  his  whole  life.  ]May  13,  1803,  was  the  date  of  his  first  entree  at 
St.  Petersburg;  he  remained  there  until  ISIT.  Count  de  Mais- 
tre, despite  his  high-sounding  title  of  ambassador  and  minister 
plenipotentiary,  had  the  greatest  difficulty  to  make,  as  it  is  vulgarly 
said,  both  ends  meet.  For  the  sake  of  maintaining,  as  Caleb  Bal- 
derstone  did,  "the  honour  of  the  house,"  he  was  compelled  to  certain 
outward  displays  of  grandeur  and  pomp  on  state  occasions,  and  to 
fall  in  with  the  "  clothes-philosophy  "  of  the  day ;  but  he  dined  off 
dry  bread  six  days  out  of  seven,  and  when  admiring  friends  gave  him 
a  lift  with  gratuities  and  indemnifications  of  a  hundred  thousand 
crowns,  ho  sent  off  the  whole  to  his  sovereign,  Charles  Emmanuel, 
who,  he  said,  stood  more  in  need  of  gratuities  than  himself  As  a 
diplomatist,  M.  de  Maistre  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  Talley- 
rand school  of  politicians.  He  did  not  think  that  "language  is  a 
cloak  given  to  man  to  conceal  his  thoughts;"  ho  would  not  have 
asserted,  with  ^I.  Leon  Gozlan,  that  "  when  a  diplomatist  cannot  tell  a 
lie,  he  is  obliged  to  remain  silent."  "}il.  de  Maistre,"  said  one  of 
his  colleagues,  "  is  the  only  man  who  speaks  out  what  he  thinks, 
without,  for  all  that,  being  guilty  of  the  slightest  imprudence."  His 
character,  in  this  respect,  is  one  which  commands  our  most  unquali- 
fied admira*tion. 

After  having  devoted  his  morning  hours  to  the  duties  of  his  post,  and 
to  the  correspondence  they  cntuilrd,  (?ouut  de  Maistre  would  shut 
himself  up  amid  his  books,  and  spend  the  evening  in  reading  and 
composition.  There,  seeking  everpvhere  fresh  arguments  for  that 
Ultramontanism  which  he  thought  destined  to  be  the  safeguard  of 


228  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  [April, 

society,  he  kept  up  a  sharp  fire  against  Gallicanism,  Protestantism, 
sensationalism,  and  sans-culottism.  His  index  expurgatorius  includ- 
ed Locke,  Bacon,  Bossuet,  Pascal,  and  the  -whole  of  the  Protestant 
'"communities  in  fflobo ;  he  fancied  he  had  a  special  call  to  annihilate 
all  those  who  refused  to  kiss  the  Pope's  toe.  The  list  of  the  hooks 
written  by  M.  de  Maistre  during  his  sojourn  at  St.  Petersburg  \\\\\ 
sufficiently  prove  the  activity  of  his  mind,  and  the  inexhaustible 
fertility  of  his  pen.  It  comprises  the  Du  Pape,  the  Eglise  Galli- 
cane,  the  Soirees  de  St.  Petcrsbourg,  and  the  Examen  de  la  PJiilo- 
sopJiic  de  Bacon.  We  find,  also,  a  translation,  enriched  with  notes,  of 
Plutarch's  essay  on  the  "Delays  of  Divine  Justice,"  and  another 
political  brochure  entitled,  Esprit  Gcnerateur  des  Constitutions 
inoderncs.  The  last  t^vo  were  the  only  works  which  M.  de  ^laistre 
published  during  his  sojourn  in  Bussia ;  the  othei-s  remained  con- 
cealed in  the  author's  portfolio,  to  be  printed  only  after  his  return 
to  Piedmont,  and  they  were  given  to  the  world  at  various  intervals. 
Du  Pape  was  published  at  Lyons  in  1819  ;  UEglisc  Gallicane  in 
1820,  and  the  Exarncn  de  la  Philosophic  de  Bacon  as  late  as  1836, 
fifteen  years  after  the  author's  decease.  Count  de  Maistre  was 
revising  the  Soirees  de  St.  Petersbourg  at  the  time  of  his  death; 
they  were  first  published  in  1821. 

We  have  already,  in  reviewing  the  Considerations  sur  la  France, 
sketched  the  political  views  of  M.  de  Maistre;  they  form,  also,  a 
large  part  of  the  book  on  the  Pope,  because  the  author  endeavours 
to  define  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  proper  place  of  the  Bishop  of 
Home  as  the  head  of  the  social  body.  The  motto  of  the  work  is 
Homer's  line,  P^I^  KOIPAXO:^  EiT!i7,  and  in  expounding  this  text 
he  turns  old  Nestor  into  a  prophet  of  Ultramontanism. 

The  Savoyard  publicist's  beau  iJca/ of  government  is  the  consti- 
tution of  the  middle  ages.  He  desa'ibes  it  in  exulting  language,  and 
crowds  his  margins  with  quotations  from  Bellarmine,  Baronius,  and 
the  Tridentine  fathers,  never  suspecting  that,  after  all,  he  has  only  been 
painting  a  tableau  de  fantaisic,  a  piece  of  historical  inaccuracy  which 
will  match  the  dreamy  theories  of  Boulainvilliers  and  Dubos.  We 
are  invited,  seriously,  to  return  to  those  happy  times  when  royalty, 
while  it  retained  its  full  volition,  and  was  endowed  Avith  an  inde- 
pendent patrimony,  was  restrained  in  the  exercise  of  legislative 
power  by  the  clergy,  the  nobility,  and  the  commons,  each  resting  on  its 
own  foundation,  and  acting  within  its  allotted  sphere,  v.hile  above  was 
the  Papacy,  which,  by  its  sublime  umpirage,  maintained,  in  cases  of 
collision,  the  harmonious  cooperation  of  the  members  of  all  the  body 
politic.  We  are  told  to  admire  the  noble,  temperate  monarchy  which 
had  grown  up  under  the  shelter  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  which, 


1856.3  De  Maistre  and  French  UltramoTitamsm.  229 

though  never  brought  to  perfection,  ^(this  is,  at  least,  a  candid 
acknowledgment,)  had  yet  secured  to  the  mcdiaival  nations  so  long ' 
a  career  of  happiness  and  freedom,  prosperity  and  glory.  It  would 
be  a  task  both  useless  and  unprofitable  to  point  out  all  the  misstate- 
ments which  occur  in  the  description  just  given. 

In  spite  of  anything  which  M.  de  Maistrc's  panegyrists  may  say 
about  constitutions  and  well-balanced  monarchies,  he  was  really  a 
downright  absolutist.  His  book  on  the  Gallican  Church  supplies  a 
further  proof  to  this  eifecr,  and  we  must  confess  ihat,  as  far  as  this 
particular  subject  is  concerned,  we  go  along  with  the  noble  count. 
We  cannot  conceive  a  genuine  Roman  Catholic  standing  or  settling 
down  half-way  between  light  and  darkness  at  either  Jansenism  or 
Gallicanism.  If  the  pope  is  God's  vicegerent  on  earth,  the  verita- 
ble delegate  of  the  Almighty,  he  is  above  all  control,  and  we  cannot 
see  how  his  power  can  justly  be  limited  by  councils,  synods,  or  con- 
cordats. "With  their  ohsequium  rationahile,  the  Galileans  have  run 
into  inconsistencies  of  the  most  extraordinary  description,  and 
their  creed  must  be  a  very  vague  one  indeed,  since  it  enables 
them  to  place  together,  in  the  some  category,  L'llopital,  Bossuct, 
and  Fenelon.  An  admirable  critic  has  remarked,  that  Ultra- 
montanism  is  the  only  logical  form  of  Roman  Catholicism  :  "  For," 
says  he,  "  if  the  e.xtreme  Ultramontane  theory  be  not  true,  if 
the  popes  have  not  that  universal  sovereignty,  direct  or  indirect, 
which  many  of  them  have  claimed,  and  for  ages  exercised,  and  of 
which  such  vast  numbers  of  their  adherents  h.ave  been  the  advocates, 
then  the  errors  into  which  the  Church  of  Rome  has  fallen  are  so 
enormous,  and  her  usurpations  so  cou^.prehensive,  that  her  indefecti- 
bility  dcfidc  will  hardly  be  a  counterpoise  for  her  errors  in  practice. 
On  the  supposition,  therefore,  of  its  so  happening,  that  our  Roman 
Catholic  friends  should  be  able  to  effect  our  conversion  to  their 
religion,  we  shall,  for  our  own  part,  hardly  stop  short  of  the  theory 
of  l)e  Maistre."  * 

Between  the  Gallican  theory,  such  as  it  is  stil!  maintained,  and 
the  Anglican  scheme,  which  we  have  seen  brought  forward  about 
twenty  years  ago,  we  see  much  in  common.  There  is  a  tradition 
among  the  Mohammedans,  that  in  some  corner  of  the  globe,  where, 
■we  suppose,  the  laws  of  gravitation  are  not  known,  the  tomb  of  their 
favourite  prophet  may  be  seen  hanging  between  two  load- stones 
perfectly  identical  in  every  respect.  This  fact  is  undoubtedly  a 
startling  one  for  the  philosopher,  but  not  more  .so  than  is  to  the 
Christian  the  problem  which  Gallicanism  and  Anglicanism  have 
ttttemptcd  to  solve.  These  schools  likewise  acknowledge  two  load- 
*  Henry  Kogcrs's  Essays,  fi-om  the  Edinburgh  Review,  en  Ultramontane  doubts. 


230  De  MaUtre  and  French  Ultramontanism.         [April,  • 

stones ;  they  place  luun's  reason  and  God's  law  on  an  equal  footing, 
and  they  endeavour  to  shape  their  course  so  as  to  counteract  the 
influence  of  the  one  by  the  power  of  the  other.  Ohsequiina  rationa- 
hile,  say  the  Galileans ;  that  is,  I  shall  obey  the  pope  and  render  due 
homage  to  the  Holy  See ;  hut  I  claim  the  right  of  examining  what 
is  proposed  to  my  acceptance,  and  of  rejecting  what  I  think  contrary 
to  the  standard  of  truth.  Ohscquinui  rationahile,  repeat  the  Angli- 
cans ;  that  is  to  say,  I  shall  obey  God's  word,  and  reverence  the 
oracles  of  revelation;  out  I  claim  the  right  of  e.\i)laining  these  ora- 
cles by  the  voice  of  the  Church,  and  of  using  them  as  countenancing 
the  emptiest  vagaries  of  man's  fancy.  The  two  cases,  Ave  see,  are 
parallel.  The  celebrated  middle  icay  so  often  chalked  out,  hedged 
in,  and  smoothed  over,  both  by  Gallicans  and  Anglicans,  is  a  mere 
creation  of  the  brain.  The  Jansenists  were  inclining  toward  the 
magnet  of  evangelical  Christianity.  The  Tractarians  are  hurrying 
fast  within  the  influence  of  Tridentine  popery — the  devil's  load- 
stone. 

As  members  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  the  Gallicans  owe 
unqualified  obedience  to  a  law  which  they  have  accepted,  and  which 
they  know  is  absolutely  binding.  Now  with  what  grace  can  they 
come  and  explain  away  their  oath  of  allegiance,  and  interpret  their 
submission  as  obscqui.uju  ratinnnbile  ?  And  what  do  they  put 
instead  of  the  Tridentine  canons  and  the  Bullarium  magnum? 
Kothing.  We  do  not  admit  the  infainbiHty  of  the  Pope,  says  one; 
we  do  not  believe  in  transubstantiation,  declares  a  second ;  we  do 
not  think  that  the  laity  ought  to  be  prohibited  from  reading  the 
Scriptures,  adds  a  third.  It  is  a  series  of  denials.  Some  reject 
more,  some  less.  "What,  then,  constituted  the  life-giving  principle 
of  Gallicanism  ?  Gallicanism  was  not  a  system,  it  was  an  amalga- 
mation of  heterogeneous  elements  which  soon  dispersed.  One  idea 
only  remained,  namely,  the  abstract  idea  of  opposition  to  the  pope. 
A  mighty  king,  Louis  XIV.,  seized  upon  that,  worked  it  out,  framed 
it  into  a  code  of  laws,  and  niacle  the  Gallic:m  clergy  a  political 
machine,  a  body  of  court  prelates,  whose  business  was  to  counteract 
the  intrigues  of  the  papal  see.  At  his  death  Gallicanism  sunk  into 
insignificance,  and  it  is  now  among  the  things  that  were. 

If  Count  de  Maistre  was  justified  in  the  attacks  he  directed 
against  Gallicanism,  we  cannot  say  the  same  for  his  onslaught  on 
Locke  (Soirees  de  St  Pctcrsbour^)  and  Bacon  (Examen  dc  la 
Philosaphie  de  Bacon.)  It  is  not  difficult,  however,  to  see  on  what 
grounds  he  endeavoured  to  justify  his  hatred.  When  he  wrote, 
the  prevailing  school  of  moral  philosophy  in  France  was  the 
sensational ;  Garat,  Destutt  de  Tracy,  and  the  other  metaphysicians 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  231 

who  "were  then  considered  as  the  gi-cat  authorities  in  such  matters, 
traced  their  pedigree  back  through  Condillac,  Ilelvetius,  and  Vol- 
nej  to  Locke  and  Bacon.  oM.  do  Maistre  did  not  stop  to  cavil  and 
carp  at  the  disciples  ;  he  professed  to  go  back  to  the  fountain  head  ; 
he  made  the  two  greatest  of  English  philosophers  responsible  for 
the  follies  of  that  materialism  which  vras  contemporaneous  with  the 
events  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  the  sort  of  Quixotic  heroism 
which  led  him  constantly  on,  made  him  imagine  that  he  saw  the  germs 
of  infidelity  in  the  Novum  Organum  and  the  l\?.i:\j  on  the  Human 
Understanding.  We  do  not  intend  to  enter  here  upon  an  examination 
of  the  respective  merits  of  induction  and  deduction  as  methods  of 
philosophy,  but  we  shall  say,  that  if  we  wore  to  act  according  to  Count 
de  Maistre's  system  of  criticism,  wo  might,  with  equal  reason, 
ascribe  to  Descartes  the  transcendentalism  of  SchcUing,  nay,  even 
the  recent  vagaries  of  Feuerbach  and  Bruno  Bauer.  Will  any  of  M. 
de  Maistre's  ardent  admirers  point  out  to  us  the  passage  in  which 
Bacon  denies  the  existence  of  final  causes  ?  Far  from  doing  so,  he 
acknowledges  them  most  distinctly,  but  he  maintains  that  they 
should  not  be  substituted,  in  a  philosophical  discussion,  for  efficient 
causes  and  for  physical  facts.  Bacon  was  certainly  an  empiricist  in 
metaphysics ;  but  within  the  limits  to  which  he  confined  himself,  he 
was  quite  right,  and  there  was  nothing  exclusive  about  his  views. 
The  fact  is,  thatM.  de  Maistro  was  a  strong  Platonist,  like  his  con- 
temporary St.  Martin,  and  deeply  plunged,  as  he  always  was,  in  the 
contemplation  of  first  principles,  constantly  seeking  a  direct  com- 
mmiication,  a  direct  intercourse  with  the  Almigijty,  he  could  not 
bear  to  hear  that  knowledge  is  in  anywise  accessible  to  us  except  as 
immediately  coming  from  God. 

The  Soirees  de  St.  Petershourf^-w'iW  ever  hold  a  conspicuous  rank 
in»  literature.  This  is  the  best  known,  and  certainly  the  most  read- 
able work  of  the  author.  It  contains  a  lucid  exposition  of  his  doc- 
trines, and  we  have  his  own  authority  to  say  that  it  was  his  favourite 
production.  In  a  letter  to  M.  P"pla,  .hitfd  December  11,  1S20,  he 
Bays,  "  The  Soirees  is  my  favourite  work ;  I  have  poured  into  it 
my  whole  head;  thus,  sir,  you  will  find  there  very  little,  perhaps, 
but  certainly  everything  that  I  know."  The  book  was  never  finished ; 
it  breaks  oflf  in  the  middle  of  the  last  conversation,  and  was  to  have 
been  completed,  according  to  M.  dc  Maistre's  plan,  by  a  chapter  exclu- 
sively devoted  to  the  subject  of  Russia,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
hospitality  which  the  author  had  onjoyod  in  that  country.  For  the 
generality  of  readers— those  who  like  the  graces  of  the  chaste  and 
elegant  style,  even  when  the  priges  of  the  volume  bristle  with  eru- 
dite quotations,  the  Soirees  do  St.  Petcrsbourg  is  a  fascinating  book. 


232  Dc  Maistre  and  French.  Ultramontanism.  [April, 

The  origin  of  evil,  the  beginning  of  languages,  war,  vrhy  the  inno- 
cent suffer  for  the  guilty,  the  question  of  sacrifices,  the  power  of 
prayer,  such  are  the  various  points  examined,  with  a  power  of  reason- 
ing, a  vigour  of  argumentation  v.hich  excludes  neither  the  flights  of 
imagination  nor  the  ornaments  of  language.  The  author  has  adopt- 
ed in  his  work  the  form  of  dialogues  or  conversations ;  thus  he 
dramatises  (so  to  say)  the  subject,  throws  variety  into  it,  and  is 
enabled  to  introduce  irony  and  sarcasm  more  freely  than  he  could 
have  done  if  he  had  clothed  his  ideas  in  a  didactic  shape,  and  pub- 
lished merely  a  metaph3'sical  treatise.  The  interlocutors  are 
three,  a  chevalier,  a  senator, .  and  a  count.  The  chevalier  is  a 
Frenchman,  and  a  man  of  the  world;  he  has  given  very  little 
time,  as  yet,  to  religious  or  philosophic  subjects,  and  the  little  he 
knows  on  those  questions  has  been  supplied  by  education  and  common 
sense.  Science,  pnilosophy.  learning,  purified  by  religion,  are  person- 
ified in  the  senator,  a  Russian  nobleman,  belonging,  of  course,  to  the 
Greek  faith,  and  who  sustains  with  the  count  the  part  of  chief  argu- 
mentator.  The  counf  is  intended  to  be  the  hero,  the  sage,  the 
authority  in  the  book ;  he  is  a  sort  of  Christian  Plato,  ready  to  solve 
the  most  arduous  problems  and  to  explain  the  greatest  difficulties. 
Between  these  three  persons  the  conversation  is  pleasantly  carried 
on  from  one  subject  to  the  other,  and  the  reader  finds  his  way,  not 
vrithout  profit,  amid  discussions  bearing  upon  the  topics  most 
important  to  man.  AVe  should  not  forget  to  add  that  the  first 
soiree— ^di.  species  of  preliminary  and  purely  descriptive  chapter — is 
from  the  pen  of  Count  Xavier  de  ]\Iaistrc,  whoso  exquisite  works 
(  Voijagc  aiifonr  dc  via  Chcmbre,  Ic  Lepreux  de  la  Cite  d'Aoste,  etc.) 
have  secured  for  him  the  very  first  rank  in  the  walks  of  a  lighter  sort 
of  literature. 

We  have  now  noticed  the  principal  works  of  Count  de  Maist];e, 
and  we  have  taken  the  opportunity  of  stating  the  leading  points  in 
his  scheme.  It  embraces,  as  the  reader  will  perceive,  two  distinct 
sets  of  idcn.s.  AA'c  linve.  first,  a  system  of  theodicy  grounded  upon 
the  doctrines  of  the  Church,  and  in  connexion  with  this  system, 
we  have,  secondly,  a  plan  of  theocraqy  or  hierodicy,  which  is  nothing 
else  but  logical  Ultramontanism,  and  the  objections  to  which  are 
those  old  charges  forming  the  bone  of  contention  between  the 
spiritual  and  the  civil  power.  In  a  Avorld  disfigured  and  corrupted 
by  the  fall,  man  has  no  right  to  happiness  taken  in  a  general  sense; 
for  the  same  reason,  he  is  not  justified  in  claiming  social  happiness 
as  his  due,  and  human  rulers,  by  applying  punisliment  where  a 
f:iult  has  been  committed,  only  imitate  the  he.WENLY  King, 
their  model    and   their  type.      While  exercising  their  authority 


1856.]  De  Maistre  and  French  Ultramontanism.  233 

earthly  governors  may  fall  into  mistake,  consequently  the  people 
may  have  just  reason  to  complain ;  but  of  the  two  only  ways  of 
redress  open  to  them,  neither  is  justifiable.  The  intervention  of 
the  multitude  in  the  discussion  of  the  laws,  ends  in  naught  but 
confusion ;  the  attempt  to  obtain  redress  by  main  force,  the  intro- 
duction of  the  revolutionary  principle,  is  still  -worse.  In  such  an 
extremity,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  "  Why,"  replies  De  Maistre,  "  appeal 
to  the  pope  as  the  representative  of  God,  and  clothed  with  the 
absolute  power  of  the  Almighty."  This  is,  certainly,  a  compendious 
way  of  settling  difficulties,  and  would,  no  doubt,  have  a  happy 
issue,  if  only  the  nations  of  the  earth  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
accept  the  pontiffs  arbitrage;  and  if,  besides,  some  means  were 
devised  of  settling  the  difficulties  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome  himself, 
when,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  he  happens  to  fall  out  with  his  own 
temporal  subjects. 

But  we  must  now  bring  our  biogi-aphical  narrative  to  a  conclusion. 
It  will  be  easily  imagined  that  Count  de  Maistre,  by  his  character, 
his  genius,  and  the  nature  of  his  political  views,  became  an  oracle 
of  political  w-isdora  both  at  St.  Petersburg  and  among  the  debris 
of  the  French  nobility  scattered  throughout  Europe.  Questions  on 
internal  policy,  on  public  education,  on  fmanccs,  were  sent  to  him 
from  all  parts,  and  there  exists  still,  in  manuscript,  an  important 
memorial  connected  with  the  administration  of  Russia,  which  the 
count  drew  up  at  the  request  of  government.  Louis  XVIII. 
returned  him  formal  thanks  in  a  letter  dated  1S04,  for  his  work  on 
the  French  Revolution;  Napoleon  struck  off  his  name  from  the  list 
of  French  emigi'ants,  and  alloAved  him  full  liberty  to  return  to  France, 
and  remain  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Sardinia,  retaining  all  the 
employments  and  decorations  he  might  have  received  from  his  sov- 
ereign.    These  marks  of  favour,  however,  were  respectfully  declined. 

The  events  of  1S14,  by  destroying  the  colossal  power  of  Bonaparte, 
brought  about  the  realization  of  Count  de  Maistre's  wishes  :  they 
also  added  much  to  his  domestic  hniiitini'^s.  lie  had  no^s■  the  com- 
fort of  meeting  his  wife  and  children,  from  whom  ho  had  been  so 
long  separated ;  one  of  his  daughters,  Constance,  he  had  left,  as  we 
have  seen,  at  Chambcry,  an  infant  in  her  cnulle,  twenty  years  before, 
under  the  care  of  her  grandmother,  lie  found  her  now  grown  up 
to  womanhood,  and  this  reunion  repaid  him  amply  for  all  the  pri- 
vations and  hardships  he  had,  in  comjiany  with  so  many  others, 
been  compelled  to  endure. 

M.  de  Maistre  was  strongly  attached  to  Russia;  he  prolonged 
his  residence  there  even  after  political  circumstances  had  occurred 
^vhich  facilitated  his  return  to  his  native  country;  but  when  the 

Fourth  Serie.s,  Vol.  VJIL— 15 


234  De  Maistre  and  French  JJltramontanism.  [April, 

Emperor  Alexander  determined  upon  outlawing  the  Jesuits,  the 
great  champion  of  Ultramontanism  protested,  by  his  departure, 
against  what  lie  believed  to  bo  an  act  of  unwarrantable  authority ; 
he  solicited  from  his  own  sovereign,  and  obtained  his  recall.  As  an 
acknowledgment  for  his  valuable  services,  the  King  of  Sardinia 
named  him,  at  the  same  time,  minister  of  state,  and  first  president 
in  the  Supreme  Court  of  Chancery. 

On  the  27th  of  ]Ma,y,  1?17.  Count  de  Maistre  bade  a  final  adieu 
to  Russia,  and  after  a  few  weeks'  stay  in  Paris  he  arrived  at  Turin, 
August  22.  His  strong  constitution  was  already  breaking  down, 
and  he  was  beginning  to  pay  the  penalty  of  the  unremitting  work, 
both  of  mind  and  of  body,  which  had  marked  the  gi-eater  part  of  his 
life.  It  is  very  probable,  besides,  that  his  death  was  hastened  by 
the  intense  disappointment  he  felt  at  seeing  the  destinies  of  the 
counter-revolution  entrusted  to  those  who.  according  to  the  strong 
but  just  expression  of  an  acute  observer.  rCont  rien  oublie  ni  rien 
appris.  This  disappointment  is  evident  in  his  correspondence;  the 
following  quotations  will  make  it  quite  clear ;  to  Isl.  de  Marcellus 
he  writes  :  "  Other  thorns  Kre  rending  my  heart;  my  mind  feels  the 
effects  of  them  ;  from  being  small  it  has  become  null ;  kic  jacet ;  but 
I  die  with  Europe ;  1  am  going  to  the  grave  in  good  company."  A 
letter  written  in  ISIS,  and  which  has  not  been  published,  gives  us 
this  curious  sentence : 

"  Several  poryons  liavo  done  mc  tlie  honotir  to  make  the  same  question  that 
I  read  in  your  ktu  r.  '  \V!iy  do  you  not  -ftrlte  on  the  pri.'sent  state  of  thinTs  ?' 
I  always  return  tli'j  same  answer.  In  the  days  of  the  canaillocracy,  I  could, 
at  my  own  risk  aad  jicril,  toll  those  incouceivablc  sovereigns  the  truth,  but 
now  those  who  arc  in  error  are  too  highly  born  for  it  to  be  possible  to  speak 
the  truth  to  them.  The  Kevolution  is  far  more  terrible  nov.-  than  in  Robes- 
pierre's time:  as  it  has  risen,  it  luus  become  more  refined.  The  difference  is 
the  same  as  between  mercury  and  corrosive  sublimate."  » 

We  shall  borrow  our  account  of  ]S1.  de  Maistre's  last  days  upon 
earth  from  the  biograjihical  sketch  which  his  son  Rodolph  has  pre- 
fixed to  the  posthumous  works  of  our  Ultramontane  publicist : 

"  Ilis  intellectual  lalx)urs,  his  mental  fatigues  and  afHictions  of  heart  had,  by 
degrees,  worn  out  a  most  robust  constitution.  The  death  of  his  brother  Andrew, 
Bishop  of  Aoste,  a  prelate  as  much  distinguished  by  his  virtues  as  by  his  talents, 
and  which  took  pl.ve  in  ISJH.  was  a  most  severe  blow  to  the  count.  From 
that  period  his  health,  which  had  resisted  the  climate  of  St.  Petersburg  aa  well 
as  that  of  Sardinia,  became  precarious ;  liis  gait,  too,  was  unsteady;  his  head 
alone  retained  all  its  vigour  and  fnslniess;  and  he  continued  to  despatch  busi- 
ness with  his  wonted  diligence.  At  the  beginning  of  1821,  when  secret 
Tumours  prognosticated  the  revolutionary  ferment  of  that  year  in  Piedmont, 
Count  de  Malstre  assisted  at  a  coun<-il  of  ministers,  when  important  chanf^es 
in  the  legislation  were  discussed.     His  opinion  was,  that  the  alterations  mooted 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  235 

•were  useful,  perhaps  even  necessary ;  but  tliat  the  moment  was  unseasonable 
for  their  introduction.  He  ivarmed  by  dogrees,  and  pronounced  a  lengthened 
speech.  His  last  wordb  were :  '  Gentlemen,  the  ground  is  trembling  under 
our  feet,  and  you  -would  fain  build.' 

"  On  February  2C.th,  1821,  Count  de  Maistre  expired,  and  the  9th  of  March 
following  thj  revolution  ^rokc  out  in  Piedmont.  He  was  carried  off  by  a 
slow  paralysis,  after  a  life  of  sixty-seven  years  of  labour,  sutleriui:,  and  self- 
devotion.  .  .  .  His  body  rests  in  the  church  of  the  Jesuits  at  Turin."  His  wife 
and  his  grandson  have  already  rejoined  him  in  the  cold  tomb,  or  rather  in 
the  abode  of  the  blessed." 

We  do  not  pretend,  of  course,  to  have  given  iu  the  above  sketch 
a  complete  analysis  of  jNI.  de  Maistre's  works  ;  but  cnou;^h  has  been 
Baid  to  enable  our  readers  to  form  some  estimate  of  his  influence 
and  character.  Widely  as  we  differ  from  the  view  he  took 
both  of  the  Church  and  of  its  connexion  with  politics  of  a  temporal 
nature,  we  admire  him  as  an  intellectual  giant  in  his  generation. 
Among  the  Ultramontanist  writers  of  our  own  days,  there  is  not 
one  that  has  caught  the  smallest  spark  of  the  fire  which  glows 
throughout  the  pages  of  the  Eglisc  GaUicone  and  the  Soirees 
de  Saint  Pctcrshourg.  Count  do  Maistre,  as  we  have  seen,  com- 
pared the  revolutionists  of  181S  to  "corrosive  sublimate;"  this 
expression  is  perfectly  applicable  to  our  Yeuillots,  our  Cullens, 
our  Nicolardots— those  frantic  journalists  who,  although  claiming  a 
parentage  with  the  Savoyard  writer,  have  naught  in  common  with 
him  ;  for  "  gall  and  wormwood  "  are  only  poor  resources  to  make  up 
for  want  of  faith ;  and  a  cause  must  be  very  desperate  indeed  when 
it  can  be  propped  up  only  by  calumny  and  falsehood. 


Art  IV.— the  MONUMEKTS  OF  ATHENS. 


/li'^"-  ^^ 


V.laro-poh  d'J'Mnes.  Par  E.  Beule,  ancien  .Membrc  de  I'Ecolc  d'Athenes.  2 
volumes.  Paris :  Firmin  Didot  Freres.  New  York :  Hector  Bossange  et 
Fi'ls.     1854. 

The  occasion  of  these  volumes — the  late  recovery  of  the  ancient 
entrance  to  the  memorable  citadel  of  Athens — has  fixed  the  eyes  of 
Europe  anew  upon  this  focus  of  antique  glories.  The  contents  of 
the  publication  embrace,  however,  a  good  deal  more.  Besides  the 
narrative  of  his  discovery  and  a  succinct  sketch  of  the  Acropolis,  his- 
torical as  well  as  topographical,  the  author  enters  into  an  artistic 
interpretation  of  the  chief  monuments  that  were  deposited  in  this 
grand  sanctuary  of  Grecian  statuary  and  architecture. 


236  The  Monwnents  of  Athens.  [April, 

We  propose  to  present  the  public  of  the  New  World  with  a  select 
survey  of  these  revelations,  both  antiquarian  and  resthetical ;  com- 
mencing, however,  with  what  may  possibly  be  no  less  useful  than 
it  seems  relevant,  a  slight  account  of  the  foundation  of  the  "  French 
School  of  Art  at  Athens." 

This  undertaking  had  its  origin  in  the  year  ISiG,  and  should  be, 
consequently,  credited  to  Louis  Philippe  or  his  government.  To 
the  same  government  is  also  due,  we  think,  a  like  foundation  in  the 
eternal  city,  existing  earlier,  and  entitled  the  "  French  School  of 
Art  at  Rome."  The  common  object  of  both  establishments  was  the 
exploration,  archrcological  and  fcsthetical,  of  the  antiquities  of  those 
two  capitals  of  ancient  civilisation.  But  although  this  was  the  true 
import  of  the  measure  in  itself,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  it  was  the. 
motive  of  the  dynasty  of  professors  that  composed  Louis  Philippe's 
cabinet :  a  reminiscence  of  their  former  trade,  a  means  of  purchas- 
ing rebellious  students,  a  mode  of  flattering  the  national  vanity,  may 
have  been  elements  in  the  design.  Be  that,  however,  as  it  may,  it 
seems  quite  certain  that  the  noble  project  did  not  receive  its  philo- 
sophic form  until  1850,  when  the  President  of  the  Republic  organized 
the  two  schools,  enjoining  each  to  present  annually  to  the  Academy 
at  Paris,  a  careful  report  of  their  local  studies,  explorations,  or  dis- 
coveries. As  crowning  complement  to  the  whole  scheme,  a  publica- 
tion to  receive  those  documents,  and  all  such  others,  has  been  insti- 
tuted, called  The  Archives  of  Scientific  iMissions.  Few  things 
more  creditable  have  been  done,  thus  far,  by  the  government  of 
Louis  Napoleon. 

The  discovery  of  M.  Beule,  who  was  a  member  of  the  School  of 
Athens,  was  presented  as  the  startling  subject  of  one  of  the  afore- 
said reports.  The  author  instantly  received  the  rewards  which 
every  Frenchman  may  now  be  sure  of,  who  contributes  somewhat 
to  the  mental  glory  of  France.  Not  to  speak  of  "decorations,"  his 
book  was  issued  at  the  expense,  or,  as  expressed  with  proper  deli- 
cacy, "  under  the  auspices,"  of  the  government,  and  he  himself  was 
placed  in  the  professional  chair  of  Archceology,  left  vacant  by  the 
recent  death  of  the  celebrated  Raoul  Rochette.  He  has,  moreover, 
received  signal  honours  from  King  Otho  of  Greece,  who  had  the 
recovered  monument  inscribed  in  gold',  with  a  memorial  contributed 
by  the  discoverer,  with  French  hpmpos,  as  follows.  We  trans- 
late the  archaic  Greek  into  common  English. 

rR.\.NCK 

Hai  discovered  the  gate  of  the  Acropolis, 
The  walls,  the  towers,  aiid  the  staircase. 
1853,  Beulk. 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  237 

The  Acropolis,  -which  -was  the  nucleus  of  the  ancient  city  of 
Minerva,  arose  upon  a  rock  of  apparently  volcanic  origin,  protruding 
in  isolation  from  the  plain.  The  summit  of  this  elevation  presents 
a  table  land  of  oval  figure,  extending  in  its  longest  axis  to  nine 
hundred  feet,  while  the  greatest  breadth  is  not  over  four  hundi*ed. 
The  sides  are  of  inaccessible  steepness  all  round,  with  the  exception 
of  the  west,  which  presents  a  gentler  acclivity,  preparing  a  natural 
entrance,  which  was  improved  by  art  in  after  ages. 

The  firsi  inhabitants  were  Cecrops  and  his  Egyptian  colony,  who 
chose  quite  naturally,  in  a  foreign  and  a  savage  country,  this  place 
of  refuge.  The  infant  city  bore,  in  fact,  the  proper  name  of  the 
alleged  founder.  It  took,  moreover,  from  an  Egyptian  denomina- 
tion, the  name  of  Astu,  which,  while  applied  to  Athens  only  in  an 
individual  sense,  became  a  common  appellation  for  cities  generally 
in  the  Greek  language;  a  curious  proof  of  the  priority  of  the 
former  city  in  Grecian  annals,  as  the  procession  in  all  naming  is 
from  the  proper  to  the  common.  This  foreign  origin  is  also  seen, 
in  fine,  in  its  more  familiar  and  actual  name ;  for  the  word  Athens 
is  an  inversion  of  the  Egyptian  Neitli  or  Ne'tlia,  who  was  the  god- 
dess adored  at  Sa'i's,  the  native  district  of  the  founder,  Cecrops. 

Athens,  then,  derived  its  religion,  as  well  as  Greece  its  civilisation 
— its  rudimental  civilisation — from  the  Delta  of  the  Nile.  The 
Greeks,  however,  with  the  habitual  pretension  of  colonial  countries, 
denied  all  this,  and  even  turned  the  indebtedness  the  other  way.  It 
is  insisted  by  some  of  their  writers,  such  as  Callisthenes  and  Apol- 
lonius,  that  it  is  Sai's  that  was  a  Greek  colony,  and  its  goddess  Neith 
the  Athenian  Pallas.  Even  Plato  relates  that  Solon,  in  his  voyage 
along  the  Nile,  constrained  the  priests  themselves  of  Sais  to  own 
that  this  was  the  procession,  and  that  Athens  was  the  older  cf  the 
two  cities  by  a  thousand  years.  But  other  authors  (who,  though 
Greek  by  origin,  had  the  advantage  of  being  brought  up,  or  of  long 
sojourn,  outside  the  pale  of  the  thicker  national  delusion,  such  as 
Herodotus,  Diodorus,  and  Pausanias,  long  an  exile)  proclaim  the 
course  of  the  migration  to  be  to  Athens  from  the  Nile.  These 
attestations  are  more  than  sufiicient  to  dissipate  the  misty  doubt 
■which  has  been  cast  upon  this  point  of  history  by  the  puerilities 
alluded  to,  and  which  would  oifer,  if  well  founded,  an  objection  of 
perplexing  gi'avity  to  certain  principles  of  the  philosophy  of  history. 

Minerva,  who  was  a  symbol  of  this  imported  civilisation,  was,  how- 
ever, not  enthroned  on  the  Acropolis  without  resistance.  Neptune 
was  a  rival  candidate  for  popular  adoration.  The  contest  was 
decided  by  the  suffrage  of  the  people,  including  even  the  women,  as 
was  usual  in  those  primitive  times.    So  wisely  has  Dc  Stacl  observed, 


238  The  Mmumsnts  of  Athens.  [April, 

that  "  it  is  liberty  that  is  ancient,"  and  so  justly  do  American  women 
assert  their  claim  to  this  primeval  charter  I  The  ladies,  then,  too, 
being  more  numerous,  as  is  the  rule  in  modem  countries,  decided  the 
election  by  a  majority  of  one.  But  how  they  voted  in  a  body  for 
a  candidate  of  their  own  sex  is  less  conformable  to  their  reputed 
disposition.  Could  it  have  been  because  ■Nlincrva  represented 
innovation  ?  or  because  she  was  the  special  patron  of  the  first  of 
female  arts,  the  loom  ?  Interpreters  of  mythic  story  do  not  inform 
us  on  these  grave  questions.  Respecting  Neptune,  they  say,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  the  type  of  a  Plioenician  colony,  which  had  pre- 
ceded, and  was  expelled  by  the  Egyptian.  But  he  might  better 
have  been  the  typo  of  the  aboriginal  fishermen,  as  being  the  god  of 
the  sea  simply,  not  of  the  art  of  navigation.  Thus  the  contest 
between  the  two  divinities  would  be  symbolical  of  a  transition  from 
the  ichthyophagous  to  the  agi-icultural  condition  of  the  primitive  Atti- 
cans — from  the  catching  of  fish  to  the  culture  of  the  olive.  Be  that, 
however,  as  it  may,  the  strange  conception  of  the  great  Minerva, 
combining  the  attributes  of  man  witli  the  sex  and  form  of  woman — 
as  her  prototype  Isis  also,  that  ripest  offspring  of  Egyptian  theogony, 
was  represented  partly  woman  and  partly  lion,  in  the  famous  sphyrrx 
— this  confusion,  which  has  confounded  all  the  authorities  of  our 
author,  contains  an  import  of  deep  consistency,  but  not  essential  to 
the  present  purpose.  Suffice  it  that  Minerva,  having  planted  on  the 
Acropolis  an  olive-tree  in  full  bearing,  (committed  to  Cecrops  and 
his  followers,)  the  savage  nations  of  the  coast  of  Attica  soon  settled 
on  and  around  the  hill. 

The  situation  ut  this  epoch  is  described  by  Plato  [Critias)  as 
follows : 

"  The  artisans  and  labourers  composed  the  outer  range,  on  the  declivity 
which  faces  the  Ilyssns.  The  warrior  caste  alone  were  in  possession  of  the 
summit,  within  the  M-all  which  enclosed  the  temples  of  Minerva  and  of  Neptune, 
[for  the  latter  of  these  deities  was  admitted  into  part  protectorship,  with  the 
accession  of  the  native  population  to  the  new  society  :  a  lart  that  justifies  the 
foregoing  comment  as  to  the  import  of  the  myth  of  Neptune.]  They  [the  war- 
riors] resided  on  the  north  side  of  the  hill-top.  in  houses  which  they  occupied  in 
common,  exposed  to  the  violence  of  the  winds  and  watching  over  their  fellow- 
citizens About  the  centre  of  the  table-land  of  the  AcropoHs  there 

was  a  spring,  which  was  afterward,  in  consequence  of  earthquakes,  almost 
destroyed,  but  which  at  that  time  aftbrded  plenty  of  wholesome  water  both 
summer  and  winter." 

We  note  these  details  as  presenting,  on  a  succinct  scale,  a  faithful 
picture  of  the  primitive  form.ation  of  the  communities  of  mankind,. 
in  both  their  social  and  topographical  characteristics.  A  fountain, 
a  fortified  stronghold  upon  an  insulated  elevation,  the  artisans  on 
the  hill- sides,  the  serfs  or  labourers  in  the  plain  below,  the  T>arriors 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  239 

on  the  summit  looking  out  for  the  enemy,  at  whose  appearance  all 
took  refuge,  flocks  and  men.  within  the  fortress.  Such,  in  brief,  was  the 
economy  of  the  first  societies  of  the  early  world,  an  economy  which 
has  been,  in  part,  repeated  by  the  barbarism  of  the  middle  ages. 

With  some  advances  in  civilisation,  however,  the  citizens  of  the 
city  ventured  down  into  the  circumjacent  plain.  In  the  history  of 
the  Acropolis,  this  epoch  is  represented  as  the  foundation  of  Athens 
by  Theseus.  And  a  foundation  it  strictly  was,  in  the  ancient  sense 
of  the  term  city,  as  denoting  the  initial  form  oi  poldicul  uigamza- 
tion  ;  for  Theseus,  besides  leading  down  from  the  sides  and  summit 
of  the  Acropolis  the  merely  military  and  colonial  conglomeration  of 
the  inhabitants,  collected,  also,  from  the  entire  territory  of  Attica, 
the  leading  families  of  all  the  tribes,  till  then  hostile  and  independ- 
ent, round  the  sacred  hill.  Around  it,  literally  in  a  circle,  were 
grou^€4  the  edifices  of  this  new  city.  This  gave  occasion  to  a  rheto- 
rician to  say,  that  "  Attica  was  the  centre  of  Greece,  Athens  the 
centre  of  Attica,  and  the  Acropolis  the  centre  of  Athens."  The 
Acropolis,  though  thus  abandoned,  was,  however,  ahvays  called  the 
city,  the  Astu  of  Gecrops,  by  the  Athenians  ;  just  as  the  Londoners 
60  distinguish  the  central  nucleus  of  their  boundless  Babylon,  and  so 
the  Parisians  style  the  sand-bank,  a  little  island  of  the  Seine,  which 
was  the  cradle  of  their  metropolis  and  the  asylum  of  their  ances- 
tors, the  ieeble  Gallic  tribe  of  the  Parisii ;  for  river  islands  were 
sought,  like  hills,  as  a  sort  of  natural  fortification. 

Another  observation,  no  less  pregnant  of  analogies,  will  bring 
us  to  the  special  subject  of  the  book.  The  Acropolis  of  Athens, 
when  forsaken  by  its  human  citizens,  became  -the  sanctuary 
of  religion,  a  sort  of  city  of  the  gods.  This  quite  spontaneous  sub- 
stitution presents  the  correct  explanation  of  a  tradition  which  seems 
universally  misunderstood  in  ancient  religions.  Why  the  divinities 
of  all  countries  should  have  been  supposed  to  reside  on  hills,  or 
should  bo  worshipped  on  what  even  the  Bible  so  often  mentions  as 
the  "  high  places,''  has  been  accounted  for  by  the  design  of  gettiog 
nearer  the  celestial  throne.  *Sut  this  solution,  in  the  first  place, 
involves  a  manifest  anachronism  with  regard  to  all  religions  except 
the  worship  of  the  sun ;  for  in  all  the  other  primitive  and  heathen 
superstitions,  there  exi.^ted  no  connexion  between  the  firmament  and 
heaven.  On  the  contrary,  their  heaven  itself,  the  abode  of  their 
divinities,  was  placed  upon  the  very  hill-tops,  a  fact  that  shows  the 
explanation,  in  the  second  place,  to  be  absurd.  In  truth,  the  wor- 
ship, or  the  supposed  residence  of  the  divinities  upon  "high  places," 
was  but  a  simple  reminiscence  of  their  former  occupancy  by  the 
worshippers,  a  dim  tradition  of  the  religion  which  then  and  there  was 


240  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

exercised  by  their  progenitors,  of  whom  all  traces  save  the  supersti- 
tion have  been  forgotten. 

The  Acropolis,  the  primitive  fortification  of  which  was  a  wooden 
fence,  received,  soon  after  the  great  epoch  of  the  Thcsean  centrali- 
zation, its  first  defences  of  any  architectm\al  solidity.  These  were 
due  to  the  Pelasgi,  the  famous  builders  of  those  antique  walls  which, 
from  the  bulk  of  the  materials,  were  afterward,  by  a  description  of 
induction  still  in  vogue  in  other  matters,  deemed  the  Avork  of  giants. 
An  exiled  colony  of  these  mystic  people  having  been  received  by  the 
Athenians,  would  reciprocate  the  hospitality  by  the  protection  of  their 
skill.  Their  art  was  applied  principally  to  the  western  side,  the  only 
accessible  one.  They  further  levelled  the  declivity  so  as  to  grade  it 
into  an  entrance,  which  was  protected  by  a  succession  of  nine  fortified 
gates,  and  gave  occasion  to  the  well-known  term  of  Erineapylos. 
Such,  then,  was  the  entrance  which  has  been  recently  recovered  from 
the  mist  of  doubt  wherein  the  devastations  of  after  ages  had  left  its 
position. 

The  first  of  these  disasters  was  the  burning  of  entire  Athens,  both 
the  old  and  the  new  city,  by  Xerxes  and  Mardonius.  The  latter,  not 
content  with  what  his  master  had  done  by  fire,  afterward  razed  walls, 
temples,  and  private  edifices,  to  the  earth.  M.  Beule  has  found  repeat- 
edly, in  his  excavations  of  the  Acropolis,  the  smoke-stained  frag- 
ments of  marble  ornaments  and  shattered  pottery  that  attest  this  ruin. 
This  devastation  was  soon  repaired,  however,  and,  as  usual,  much 
improvement  was  made  upon  the  primitive  structure  by  a  succession 
of  those  men  of  genius  Avho  always  rise  in  great  emergencies,  or  rather 
who,  on  these  occasions,  can  achieve,  by  works,  that  public  influence 
which  the  mediocrities,  by  mere  effrontery,  obtain  habitually  from 
public  ignorance.  The  first  in  order,  nor  the  last  in  merit,  was 
the  noble  tyranny  of  the  Pisistratida},  who  were  succeeded  by 
Themistocles,  by  Cimon,  and  by  Pericles.  Themistocles  was  the 
rebuilder  of  the  walls  of  the  Acropolis,  which  is  what  we  are  here 
concerned  with  especially.  A  portion  had  remained,  however,  on 
the  south  side,  for  the  hand  of  Cimoli,  who  was  also  the  generous 
builder  of  the  Long  Walls,  of  the  Poecile,  of  the  temple  of  Theseus, 
of  the  Gymnasium,  of  the  Gardens  of  the  Academy,  i.^c.,  «fcc.  Thus 
the  aristocratic  son  of  the  tyrant  Miltiades  had.  been  the  founder, 
at  his  own  expense,  of  that  great  age  of  Grecian  art  which  the 
democrat  Pericles  did  but  continue  with  the  plunder  of  the  allies. 

The  Acropolis,  thus  refortified,  and  filled  with  temples  and 
with  statues,  was  next  invaded  by  the  impious  taste  of  Nero,  who 
sent  to  rifle  it  for  works  of  art  with  which  to  beautify  his  gold- 
en palace.     All  the  previous  Roman  masters  had  treated  Athens. 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  241 

vritli  veneration,  as  the  mother  of  their  native  arts  and  civilisation. 
Even  the  impetuous  Sylla,  in  the  heat  of  victory  and  exasperation, 
directed  that  "the  living  should  be  pardoned  for  the  sake  of  the 
dead:"  but  Nero  was  not  lioman  in  even  his  vices.  After  2^ero 
came  the  Christians,  who,  in  their  iconoclastic  zeal,  •were  even  more 
destructive;  they  not  only  destroyed  the  statues,  but  demolished 
all  the  temples  except  the  Erecthclon  and  Parthenon,  converted  sub- 
sequently into  churches,  the  latter  dedicated,  by  an  easy  transition, 
to  the  Virgin  Mar3^  To  the  Christians  succeeded  Alaric  and  his 
less  barbarous  barbarians ;  for  the  latter  did,  according  to  the  best 
authorities,  but  little  damage,  and  had  the  grace  to  get  affrighted 
by  a  vision  of  Minerva.  The  fortifications,  also,  of  the  Acropolis, 
like  the  temples,  underwent  a  transformation  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, by  the  direction  of  its  feudal  masters,  the  Frank  and  Floren- 
tine "  Dukes  of  Athens."  Finally  came  the  Turks  under  Moham- 
med II.,  who  converted  the  famous  entrance  of  the  Fropylffia  into  a 
fortress,  as  they  did  the  Parthenon,  that  shrine  successively  of  both 
the  heathen  and  the  Christian  virgins,  into  a  mosque,  and  the  Erec- 
theion  into  a  harem  ! 

It  is  beneath  these  devastations  upon  devastations  of  thirty  cen- 
turies, that  M.  Beule  has  discovered  the  principal  entrance  to  the 
Acropolis.  His  excavations  had  laid  open,  in  May,  1852,  at  the 
distance  of  sixty  feet  in  direct  front  of  the  Propylrea,  the  remnant 
of  some  Pelasgic  constructions.  This  piece  of  wall  seemed  to  be  a 
parapet  intended  to  support  a  staircase.  The  stones  were  cut  polyg- 
onally,  and  flattened  on  the  sides,  so  as  to  fit  on  to  each  other, 
uncemented,  with  much  exactness.  On  this  account  the  work  was 
doubted  to  be  Pelasgic,  and  was  thought  even  Koman.  But  the  author, 
who  held  the  opposite  opinion,  soon  found  the  proof.  Pursuing  the 
winding  which  was  indicated  by  a  turn  in  the  supposed  parapet,  the 
excavations  were  pushed  below  the  soil  of  Cimon  and  of  Peri- 
cles, where  appeared,  in  fact,  the  track-indented  pathway  of  three 
.thousand  years  ago,  along  the  living  rock  of  the  Acropolis.  The 
indentations  had  been  cut,  originally,  in  the  simple  shape  of  foot- 
holds, but  were  afterward  worn  into  round  holes  by  the  hoofs  of 
animals  ascending  for  security  or  for  sacrifice.  The  way  itself, 
about  a  yard  wide,  meandered  round  the  interfering  obstacles,  which 
is  another  characteristic  of  its  antiquity.  Thus,  even  in  cities,  the 
oldest  streets  present  this  serpentine  irregularity;  it  maybe  wit- 
nessed in  our  own  upstart  IS  ew- York,  in  Pearl- street  for  instance, 
of  which  the  only  engineer  was  probably  a  cow-path  through  the 
thicket.  M.  Beule  proves,  by  multiplied  and  much  more  dignified 
considerations,  the  strict  identity  of  his  discovery  with  the  old  ave- 


2i2  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

nue  of  the  Acropolis.  But  the  discussion  is  too  long,  as  well  as  too 
intricate  and  erudite,  to  be  delineated  in  a  summary  appi-eciable  by 
our  readers.  We  can  but  recommend  the  studious  to  the  pages  of 
the  work,  and  to  the  set  of  fine  engravings  that  elucidate  them  topo- 
graphically. 

Coming  now  to  what  will  probably  be  more  agreeable,  our  third 
division,  vrhich  regards  the  explanation  and  aesthetics  of  the  monu- 
ments, we  are  encountered  on  the  threshold  by  the  problem  of  the 
Propykiia.  The  destination  of  this  famous  structure  is  known  to  be 
a  modern  mystery.  M.  Beule,  in  enumerating  the  conjectures,  puts 
these  queries :  "  Is  it  simply  a  monument  of  ornamentation  ?  Does 
it  involve  a  religious  idea?  Is  it  but  a  work  of  fortification  and 
defence  ?  Docs  it,  in  a  v;ord,  belong  to  the  civil,  to  the  religious,  or 
to  the  military  architecture  of  the  Greeks?"  (Vol.  i,  p.  1S4.) 

"  To  the  religious,"  says  Spon,  a  French  writer  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  who  cried,  on  seeing  the  Propyla?a,  "  There,  undoubtedly, 
is  a  Greek  ternple."  Col.  Lcal-ie,  the  English  traveller,  a  high  author- 
ity, at  least  in  London,  is,  on  the  conti-ary,  of  the  opinion  that  it 
was  a  work  of  fortification.  The  learned  Eurnouf  maintained,  it 
seems,  the  same  construction,  but  for  reasons  of  philosophy,  which, 
says  our  author,  do  not  hold  of  art.  We  must  remark,  that  if  they 
do  not,  the  fault  is  not  in  their  philosophy,  but,  on  the  contrary,  in 
the  want  of  it,  as  will  be  indicated  in  this  instance.  M.  Beule,  in 
fact,  refutes  them,  as  he  does  also  those  of  Leake,  vdiich,  by  a  natural 
illusion,  are  drawn  from  military  strategy.  A  gallant  colonel  could 
have  scarce  done  otherwise  than,  like  the  mirror  of  knight-errantry, 
behold  in  every  dubious  edifice  a  giant  enemy  or  a  fortress.  But  M. 
Beule  pronounces  equally  against  the  second  of  the  suppositions, 
assigning  to  the  PropykTa  a  religious  object,  at  least  in  idea;  and 
here  he  will,  we  think,  be  found  in  error.  His  own  hypothesis  is, 
that  the  structure  was  one  of  simple  "  decoration,"  and  he  quite 
properly  proceeds  to  justify  it  first  by  reference  to  history. 

Egypt,  he  reminds  us.  built  proj.i/hra  long  before ,Grccoc,  and  was 
in  this,  as  in  so  many  other  things,  most  probably  the  Greek  model. 
The  most  remarkable  had  been  erected,  as  Herodotus  informs  us, 
to  Minerva  (alias  Isis)  at  Sais  :  'Ev  Idi  -Tj  WO/jvauj  TLgo-rrvXaia,  «fcc. 
Now  this  expression  must  import  the  structure  to  front  the  temple 
of  the  goddess ;  for,  on  the  one  hand,  this  famous  edifice  was  too 
notorious  to  need  special  mention ;  and,  on  the  other,  it  was  implied 
suflBciently  in  the  term  '•  propyhTa  ;"  for  to  dedicate  a  door-front  or 
an  entrance  to  Minerva  or  Isis,  could  surely  refer  only  to  the  temple 
of  the  divinity.  But  the  importance  of  this  remark,  which  M.  Beule 
overlooks,  perhaps,  as  hostile  to  his  hypothesis,  will  be  apparent  by- 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athe7is.  243 

and-by.  There  -vvere  also,  he  tell  us,  propyla;a  at  Persepolis  ;  and 
here,  he  owns,  they  -were  attached  to  palaces,  immediately,  or  at  a 
small  distance.  In  fine,  there  was  in  Greece,  besides  the  specimen 
in  question,  a  propylceum  before  the  temple  of  Ceres  at  Eleusis,  and 
built,  it  is  to  be  observed,  by  the  same  author,  namely,  Pericles ; 
from  which  might  be  inferred  a  certain  kinship  of  destination; 
and  there  was  another  before  the  temple  of  ^lincrva  at  Sunium,  &c. 
It  is  also  true,  that  there  were  propylxa  in  Greece  and  elsewhere, 
attached  to  secular  localities  or  edifices,  as  at  Athens  to  the  Agoras, 
and  at  Pompeii  to  the  Forum.  But,  aside  from  the  consideration 
that  these  were  primitively  sacred  places,  the  latter  class  of  propyhea 
were  all  posterior  and  merely  imitative.  This  is  owned,  indeed, 
expressly  by  M.  Beule  himself,  who  even  touches  on  the  reason  in 
the  following  maladroit  remarks : 

"  The  character  of  a  monuinent  is  decided  in  tlic  popular  fancy  by  tradition, 
and  especially  by  habit.  So  true  is  this,  that  it  is  often  an  aflair  of  mere  con- 
vention, that  "the  Greek  temple,  -which  used  to  speak  to  the  devotion  of  the 
ancients,  is  sometimes  destined  by  the  moJorns,  Avhen  they  construct  the  like, 
for  proiiine  u.'^es.  How  is  it  possible  to  throw  a  rclii^nous  respect  around  a 
monument,  seen  to  precede  indifferently  a  temple,  a  fortification,  a  place  of 
public  assemblage,  and  even  a  market'/" — P.  190. 

And  yet,  despite  this  recognition  of  anachronistic  interpretations, 
and  the  facts  he  cites,  which  ovni  the  earlier  propyla:a  aW  to  !>e  a^c!i- 
edto  temples,  M.  Beule  h?s  the  courage  to  procl.iim  that  that  of  the 
Acropolis  "  has  nothing  of  a  religious  intention,  although  serving  as 
an  entrance  to  the  grand  sanctuary  of  Athenian  religion."  We  need 
no  more  to  prove  the  contrary  than  his  own  facts  and  his  own 
reflexions,  placed  in  order  by  the  true  ])hilo3ophy  of  architecture ; 
for  we  are  also  engaged  to  show,  in  opposition  to  his  judgment  and  to 
the  example  of  Burnouf,  that  the  fine  arts  do  not  escape  philosophy. 

This  supreme  arbiter,  in  fact,  informs  us,  that  the  first  structures 
of  a  religious  character  must  have  been  tombs,  as  is  implied  in  the 
generic  import  of  the  term  monument ;  their  earliest  form,  as  being 
the  easiest,  was  the  pyramidal.  PKnng,  of  course,  consecrated  only 
to  patriarchs,  to  princes,  or  to  heroes,  they  would  become,  in  course 
of  time,  a  place  of  concourse  and  of  worship,  by  the  same  process  of 
superstition  which  raised  the  inmate  into  a  god.  The  ceremonial 
of  this  public  worship  would  suggest  the  requisite  of  a  new  struc- 
ture for  the  oblation  of  the  sacrifices  and  reception  of  the  idol ! 
Hence  the  temple,  which  was  first  a  chamber  superadded  to  the 
tomb,  a  combination  which  returned  duly  with  the  barbarism  of 
the  middle  a^es,  in  the  steeple-fronted  churches  of  the  Gothic  order. 
But  as  the  primitive  barbarians  had  not  the  art  or  the  example 
whereby  to  make  the  temple  large  enough  for  the  admission  of  the 


244  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

worshippers,  they  -were  obliged  to  push  it  back,  and  leave  between 
it  and  tlic  monument  an  enclosed  court,  for  the  reception  of  the 
faithful. 

The  same  necessity,  produced  by  inability  to  make  a  doorway 
through  the  monument  which  would  be  wide  enough  for  the  conven- 
ience of  such  a  crowd,  suggested  also  the  expedient  of  a  second  pyramid 
at  such  a  distance  as  to  shape  a  gateway  of  the  requisite  dimensions. 
How,  then,  to  fill  up  the  void  above  would  be  a  problem  for  after 
ages.  The  first  condition,  it  was  obvious,  must  be  to  truncate  the 
two  pyramids,  which  thus  assumed,  according  to  diameter,  the 
guise  of  towers  or  of  rude  columns,  the  latter  being,  in  fiict,  the 
origin  of  the  most  primitive  (the  Doric)  shaft;  the  former,  that,  per- 
haps, of  the  two  towers  which  flank  the  old  Pelasgic  entrauce  or 
propylaa,  and  which  are  the  witnesses  of  M.  Beule's  own  discovery. 
The  difficulty  still  remaining  would  be  twofold :  first,  to  place  a 
stone  lintel  of  length  and  strength  enough  on  these  abutments  ;  and, 
secondly,  to  ease  the  pressure  which  would  thus  be  aggravated  ruin- 
ously in  falling  at  an  acute  angle  upon  their  conical  inclinations.  A 
remedy  that  might  present  itself  to  the  most  simple  observation 
would  servo  to  obviate  the  two  obstacles  at  once :  it  was  but  to  fancy 
the  mere  inversion  of  the  obliquity  of  the  abutments ;  or,  in  other 
words,  to  conceive  an  intermediate  pyramid  in  vacuo.  This  dispo- 
sition of  the  jambs  w^ould  at  the  same  time  abridge  the  lintc-l,  and 
bring  its  pressure,  on  the  contrary,  within  the  perpendicular.  Eut 
how  to  e.-^ecute  the  fancy  would,  in  those  times,  bo  the  rub. 

For  this,  however,  there  was  also  quite  at  hand  an  obvious  model. 
The  inclination  of  the  p3-ramids,  which  was  to  be  reversed,  was 
wrought  itself  by  the  retreat  of  each  successive  layer  of  stones,  as 
may  be  witnessed  even  in  the  acme  of  this  mode  of  structure  on  the 
Nile.  In  order,  therefore,  to  slope  inicai-d,  instead  of  sloping 
outward,  it  was  only  necessary  to  convert  the  retrocessions  into 
projectio7is.  But  this  again,  when  carried  too  far,  shows  its  ^\eak- 
ness  and  its  inconveniences  in  throwing  the  pressure  on  the  mere 
projection,  and  narrowing  too  much  the  door  above;  inconvenien- 
ces exactly  equal,  though  exactly  opposite  to  the  preceding.  And 
we  may  add,  that  it  was  only  through  a  long  succession  of 
such  oscillations  that  men  attained  the  perpendicular  in  masonry. 
In  the  meantime,  however,  and  subsidiarily,  the  lintel  too  was 
changing.  The  contrivance  which  at  last  allowed  it  to  extend  to 
jambs  completely  vertical,  was  the  surmounting  it  with  two  long 
stones,  that,  resting  endwise  on  its  two  extremities,  were  laid 
together  at  the  top,  so  as  to  form  with  it  a  triangle,  which,  like  a 
wedge,  would  split  the  pressure,  and  slide  it  off  on  the  abutments. 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  '   .     245 

But  this  triangle  was  again,  we  see,  a  repetition  of  the  pyramid,  a 
bare  accuraulatiou  of  the  same  inevitable  type.  And  even  to  the 
present  day,  what  thus  was  born  of  a  rude  necessity,  is  made  the 
ornament  and  ensign  of  the  Doric  order  of  architecture,  and  some- 
times copied  by  the  later  styles,  in  the  triangnlation  of  the  front- 
ispiece ! 

We  might  go  on  to  show  how  nature  aided  human  imbecility  in 
passing  also  from  this  stage  to  the  conception  of  the  arch ;  how  the 
two  sides  of  the  triangle  were  broken  gradually  into  higher  poly- 
gons, until  they  finally  evanished  into  a  curve.  But  avo  are  afraid 
of  bein^  already  half  suspected  by  our  shrewder  readers  of  merely 
weaving  them  an  idle  phantasy  in  stone.  They  can,  however,  rest 
assured  that  facts  on  record  in  the  same  material,  attest  each  stop 
of  this  deduction  to  the  letter.  Existing  relics  of  the  ancient  Doric 
in  Egypt,  Europe,  and  Asia  Minor,  which  }.I.  Beule  computes  at 
thirty,  and  conceives  to  represent  its  whole  progression,  exhibit 
still  the  various  forms  above  assigned,  hryond  the  pyramids,  which, 
in  their  junction  with  the  temple,  survive  in  India  alone.  "We 
have,  however,  sketched  their  genesis  only  for  the  purpose  of  sub- 
mitting to  the  test  of  history,  the  principles  wherewith  to  solve 
this  last  relation,  whereby  to  show  the  Propyla?a  to  be  essentially, 
although  detached,  not  only  part,  but  even  the  progenitor  of  the 
temple. 

The  separation  of  the  Athenian  specimen  i.-;,  then,  an  argument 
of  no  avail,  although  it  was  the  chief  among  the  "  philosophical "  con- 
siderations of  Burnouf  '■  AYhat  constitutes  tlie  Greek  temple,"  says 
this  eminent  philologist,  "  is,  above  all,  the  vane,  that  is  to  say,  the  en- 
closed hall,  often  inaccessible  to  the  vulgar,  and  containing  the  statue 
of  the  god.  In  the  Propylwa  there  is  nothing  that  resembles  a  vaog'^ 
&c.  Now,  the  answer  is,  that  there  is  notliing  which  resembles  a  vao^ 
in  the  towers  or  pyramids  that  formed  the  entrance  to  certain  ancient 
Indian  temples,  since  the  temple  proper,  the  shrine,  or  vaoq,  was  placed 
aloof  across  a  long  court-yard ;  but  yet  we  know,  from  other  speci- 
mens of  the  same  country  still  more  ancient,  that  the  two  struc- 
tures had  been  originally  one.  To  recognise,  in  fact,  the  full  analogy 
of  the  Propylrea  with  the  former  instance,  we  need  but  fancy  the 
intermediate  part  of  the  Acropolis  to  be  a  court-yard  to  the  Parthe- 
non and  Erectbeion,  placed  at  the  opposite  extremity.  Nor  will 
this  eifort  strain  the  fancy  bcyoml  the  limits  of  frequent  fact,  the  en- 
tire summit  being,  as  we  have  seen,  but  nine  hundred  by  four  hundred 
feet.  The  utmost  distance  that  thus  could  separate  the  temples 
from  the  entrance  would  not  be  greater  than  is  observed,  if  we  mis- 
take not,  in  some  Indian  cases.     It  would,  at  all  events,  be  but  pro- 


246  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

portionate  to  the  plurality  of  the  divinities,  tlic  multitude  of  the 
■worshippers,  and  thus  the  number  of  the  doorways,  of  -which,  in  fact, 
no  fewer  than  five  have  been  laid  open  in  the  Propylaja.  In  fine,  if, 
going  a  little  further,  we  conceive  this  intermediate  space  as  very 
naturally  covered  in,  for  the  mere  shelter  of  the  votaries,  the  propy- 
lacuta  would  be  then  admitted  to  be  not  merely  a  religious  edifice,  but 
part  and  parcel  of  the  corresponding  temple.  Now  this  precisely  is 
what  is  done  in  the  following  epoch  of  architecture,  as  represented 
by  the  churches  of  Christiauity.  Here  the  elements  progressively 
developed  are  synthetized  by  simply  filling  up  the  middle  term  of 
the  series.  For  the  porch  or  vestibule  is  but  the  propylaium  ;  the 
nave  or  body  but  the  covered  court-yard  ;  the  sanctuary,  inaccessi- 
ble to  the  vulgar,  at  the  other  end,  and  where  the  host,  or  (with  the 
Hebrews)  the  ark  of  the  covenant  was  deposited,  but  the  shrine  or 
vaog  that  contained  the  idol  of  heathenism.  Accordingly,  the  Prot- 
estants, in  their  rejection  of  all  idolatry,  have  disused  also  this  third 
section  of  the  edifice. 

We  now  submit,  then,  with  all  reasonable  deference  to  M.  Beule, 
that  true  philosophy  is  strictly  applicable  to  the  arts  and  to  their  arch- 
aeology, and  that  it  alone  can  explain  consistently  the  facts  which 
he  himself  adduces.  One,  however,  of  these  facts  has,  we  perceive, 
escaped  our  survey,  and  from  its  character  might  be  suspected  to  be 
overlooked  through  sly  design.  It  is  the  instance  of  the  propyl^a 
fronting  palaces  in  Perfcpolis.  Here,  assuredly,  (it  will  be  urged 
against  our  explanation.)  there  was  no  temple  connected  vrith  them, 
either  mediately  or  immediately.  The  answer  is,  that  there  icas  a 
temple,  not,  indeed,  in  name,  but  in  effect  and  nature.  The  palace 
of  the  Persian  monarchs,  those  divine  "  children  of  the  sun,"  and 
living  idols  of  their  slavish  subjects,  was  a  structure  awfully  relig- 
ious. Accordingly,  in  Egypt,  where  the  Pharaohs  were  regarded 
similarly,  it  is  shown  that  the  royal  palaces  were  often  blended  with 
the  temple ;  that  is  to  say,  were  an  expansion  of  the  sanctuary  or 
vaog.  Antiquarians  have  aptly-  termed  these  mongrel  edifices 
"  temple  palaces."  Thus  the  porch,  or  propylnea,  both  derivatively 
and  directly,  would  be  still  in  character  before  the  palaces  of  Persep- 
oUs,  and  what  appeared  a  real  objection  becomes  a  curious  con- 
firmation. 

Nor  would  this  character  be  less  established  with  regard  to  the 
Athenian  structure,  though  it  were  certain  that  the  purposes  of  the 
builder  had  been  something  else.  A  monument  derives  its  charac- 
ter, not  from  the  motives  of  the  founder,  but  from  the  nature  and  the 
history  of  its  kind.  Men  build,  besides,  by  imitation,  without  any 
distinct  destination.    But,  moreover,  as  far  as  Pericles  had  any  such 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Alliens.  247 

in  the  work  in  question,  all  probabilities  combine  to  sho-R"  it  to  have 
been  religious.  In  the  first  place,  the  Propylrea  v.-as  expressly  dedi- 
cated to  Minerva,  which  would  be  decisive,  if  that  virile  goddess  did 
not  ofier  also  a  phase  of  war.  But  the  same  statesman  built  an  almost 
equally  magnificent  one  to  Ceres,  with  regard  to  whom  there  is  no 
place  for  ambiguity.  Then,  again,  we  need  ,not  mention  as  being 
due  to  him  the  Parthenon,  that  metropolitan  fane  of  Athens  and  of 
art.  In  short,  the  better  portion  (if  our  memory  does  not  deceive 
us)  of  the  monuments  that  glorify  liis  splendid  government,  were 
religious.  Not  that  Pericles,  in  probability,  had  much  more  faith 
in  the  Virgin  Pallas  than  Louis  Napoleon  in  the  Virgin  Mary  when  he 
Bent  her  portraits  to  his  Black  Sea  fleet;  but  in  his  quality  of  adroit 
demagogue,  he  ^ould  combine  in  his  expenditures  the  two-fold  object 
of  providing  for  the  support  and  gratifying  the  superstition  of  the 
Demos. 

Thus  the  personal  intentions  of  the  founder,  though  not  essential, 
contribute  also  their  attestation  to  the  religious  nature  of  the  Propy- 
Iffia.  Having  now,  we  trust,  established  what  the  meaning  of  the 
structure  icas,  we  need  not  provciiiat  it  was  not  what  M.  Beule  has 
imagined.  A  learned  error  is,  however,  always  worth  the  trouble 
of  refuting.  M.  Beulo's  mistake  consists  in  holding  that  ihc  monu- 
ment in  question  was  a  work  of  "c/ccorr/^/o??,  and  nothing  more." 
Now  this  (we  say  it  with  no  incivlTity )  is  a  plain  absurdity,  and 
nothing  less.  There  never  yet  has  been  erected  an  integral  edifice 
for  such  a  purpose.  The  very  notion  of  "  decoration  "  is  purely 
accessory  and  adventitious,  and  implies  essentially  a  groundwork 
of  utility.  So  time  is  this,  that  tiio  very  ornaments  themselves 
have  sprung  from  coarse  utilities.  To  keep  within  the  art  before  us, 
and  even  within  the  instances  above  suggested,  have  Vr-e  not  seen  the 
main  ornament,  that  decks  especially  the  Doric  frontispiece,  to  have 
proceeded  from  the  rude  triangular  apposition  of  three  long  stones, 
which  formed  the  old  Pelasgic  lintel,  and  was  the  germ  of  the 
arch?  Also,  that  the  Doric  column  had  its  ideal  origin  in  the  tu- 
mular  pyramid,  of  which  the  angles,  duly  multiplied  with  its  pro- 
gression to  rotundity,  as  were  the  sides  of  the  triangle  in  advancing 
toward  the  arch,  are  still  repeated  in  the  fluting,  which  is  a  further 
decoration  ?  It  might  be  added,  that  the  grooves  of  the  triglyph, 
another  ornament  of  the  same  style,  began  with  being  but  simple 
channels  to  let  off  the  rain- water  from  the  eaves,  &c.,  (fcc. 

Nay,  not  alone  the  "  decorations ''  of  tliis  and  all  the  arts  called  fine, 
but,  we  insist,  those  arts  themselves,  repose  upon  extraneous  grounds, 
are  but  the  blossoms  of  some  useful  art,  which  gives  them  origin  and 
im.port.     For  instance,  poetry  was  originally,  in  reality,  a  mnemo- 


248  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

techny;  music,  an  integral  portion  of  the  art  of  war,  and  perhaps  of 
medicine ;  painting  had  its  single  prototype  in  hieroglyphic  writing, 
and  sculpture  was  an  offshoot  of  the  same  commemorative  artifice. 
In  architecture,  we  have  seen  that  the  requisite  of  sheltering  the  wor- 
shippers, whose  introduction  in  the  early  temple  would  have  been 
regai-ded  as  a  profanation,  produced  the  intermediate  structure  that 
joined  the  portal  and  the  sanctuary,  and  brought  the  religious  depart- 
ment of  the  art  to  its  highest  magnificence.  But  we  must  stop ;  for 
examples  would  be  endless  as  they  arc  needless.  The  conclusion  is, 
that  "decoration"  cannot  be  the  object  of  any  edifice,  nor  even  the 
intrinsic  end  of  the  decorations  themselves.  That  M.  Beule  should 
have  come  to  think  so,  must  be  the  result  of  his  avowed  system  of  in- 
terpreting the  arts  by  "  imagination  "  instead  of  philosophy.  But  with 
his  youth  and  his  sagacity,  he  may  work  off  this  vulgar  error.  Even 
already,  his  mistake.  Ave  are  inclined  to  think,  is  partly  verbal ;  he  half 
confounds  imagination  with  the  philosophy  of  imagination.  It  is 
true,  the  multitude,  both  rude  and  learned,  take  these  terms  to  be 
incompatible.  Philosophy  to  such  is  but  a  starch  and  stately 
pedantry,  that  must  not  stoop  from  cloudy  questions  and  traditional 
procedures ;  the  foregoing  use  of  it  they  would  consider  but  a  mere 
effort  of  imagination.  In  reality,  however,  that  philosophy  is  the 
profoundest  which  explains  alike  the  first  puerilities  and  the  highest 
perfections  of  the  human  mind ;  and  in  the  former  task,  philosophy 
attains  the  truth,  only  by  a  power  of  reassuming  the  mental  childhood 
of  the  species.  But  !M.  Bcule  will  be  found  less  faulty  in  his 
cesthctical  e.xercitations,  Avhich  compose  our  last  division  of  remark. 
The  well-known  preference  of  the  Athenians-for  tfe^'^Piropylsea  h^ 
explains  as  follows : 

"  In  fact,  the  structure  bad  been  piiijjiilarly  fitted  to  affect  the  Greeks  by 
the  novelty,  tlie  originality  of  the  style.  The  Parthenou  was  at  lea.-t  equal 
to  it  in  beauty,  in  [lerfection.  But,  constructed  in  accordance  with  tlie  ordin- 
ary rules,  it  did  not  differ  from  the  Doric  temples  which  were  so  oonnnon 
throughout  Greece,save  in  the  choice  of  the  materials,  in  the  finish  of  the  details, 
in  ccrlaiu  ideal  projiortion?,  in  those  shadinps  v.hich  are  [irized  by  artists,  but 
do  not  equally  inijjress  the  public.  The  Greeks,  though  so  devoted  to  tradi- 
tion in  the  matter  of  art,  were  of  necessity,  like  all  men,  sensible  to  novelty. 
Whereas,  in  the  Propykea,  this  novelty  was  of  a  nature  to  satisfy,  moreover,  all 
the  exigene<>s  of  right  reason,  all  tlie  delicacies  of  the  love  of  tlie  beautiful.  The 
fine  disposition  of  the  edifice,  full  of  movement  and  as  if  theatrical;  a  simplicity 
which  did  not  even  af^k  the  ornainentti  o/sciiljitiire,  and  left  tlie  whole  effect 
to  the  mere  lines  and  the  proportions  ;  tiic  blending  and  the  happy  harmony 
ofa  diversity  of  orders ;  the  dilHculries  not  only  vanquished,  but  Cinivt-rted  into 
brilliant  merits,  here  are  ■v\'hat  commanded  adniiration  ;  and  when  to  these 
wa.'^  added  the  inysterious  charm  of  orifxiuality,  the  admiration  attained  the 
higliest  degree  of  intensity." — Vol.  i,  p.  1C8. 

This  explanation  of  the  Greek  preference  may  be  accepted  as  just 
in  general,  though  certain  incidents  of  the  exposition  recall  the  errors 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  249 

above  refuted.  The  "  Greek  attachment  to  tradition  in  the  matter 
of  the  arts"  T\-as,  in  reality,  but  Greek  impotency  of  invention;  or, 
to  speak  more  justly,  the  common  impotency  of  the  primitive  intel- 
ligence, from  ^\hich  the  faculty  of  real  invention  ^vas  but  just  emerging 
in  even  the  Greeks.  And  this,  accordingly,  is  -uiiat  explains  their 
admiration  of  originality.  For  innovations  against  people's  preju- 
dices or  attachments  are  not  apt  to  ravish  them ;  the}^,  on  the  con- 
trary, provoke  displeasure  and  persecution.  But  it  is  otherwise 
■with  innovations  on  their  passive  ignorance  and  conscious  impotency, 
innovations  -which  they  would  desire,  but  feel  incompetent  to  make 
themselves;  and  hence  the  rapture  of  the  savage  at  all  artificial  novelty. 
Hence,  also,  the  admiration  of  the  still  primitive,  though  polished 
Greeks,  for  this  initial  intermi.xture  of  the  Ionic  with  the  Doric 
order,  the  latter,  purely,  being  the  sacramental  style  of  sacerdotal 
building. 

Does  not  this  circumstance,  again,  evince,  in  opposition  to  M. 
Beulc,  the  destination  which  wo  have  assigned  to  the  Fropyh'ea  ?  For 
in  this  edifice  the  sacerdotal  or  Doric  order  is  the  ruling  element ; 
whereas,  if  ornament  had  been  the  object,  the  Ionic  graces  must  at 
least  predominate.  JSay,  even  to  the  small  c.vtent  in  which  the  lat- 
ter have  been  blended,  M.  Bcule  owns  their  presence  to  be  due  to 
a  masonic  exigence :  the  central  door,  which  vras  supported  by  the  only 
Ionic  columns  employed  in  the  building,'  was  too  lofty  for  the  squat 
proportions  of  the  Doric  shaft  that  served  the  side-doors.  The 
"  happy  harmony  of  orders"  was  not,  then,  invention,  but  the  want 
of  it ;  the  deviation  from  the  sacred  style  was  not  innovation,  but 
resistance  to  it,  and  thus  affords  another  argument  for  the  religious 
destination  of  the  Propylrea;  in  fine,  the  mixture  was  not  for 
"decoration,"  but  from  necessity!  Might  not,  however,  this  latter 
circumstance  receive  a  plausible  extenuation  from  the  theory  above 
propounded  of  the  Propylssa  ?  Viewing  this  structure  as  a  general 
entrance  to  the  entire  sanctuary  of  the  Acropolis,  an  ideal  portion 
of  the  two  great  temples  of  the  guardian  d'.'ities  of  Athens,  was  it 
not  natural  that  the  two  orders,  adopted  severally  in  shrines— to  wit, 
the  Doric  in  the  Parthenon  and  the  Ionic  in  the  Erectheion — should 
be  proportionally  represented  in  the  common  vestibule  or  porch? 
For,  accidentally  or  otherwise,  the  relative  magnitude  of  the  two 
temples  was  about  the  measure  of  the  mixture  of  the  two  orders 
in  the  Propyla;a.  This  explanation  would  tell  equally,  of  course, 
with  that  advanced  by  M.  Bcuh;,  against  the  merits  of  his  own 
hypothesis  of  simple  decoration.  And,  in  conclusion,  the  passage 
cited  presents  another  self-conviction,  where  the  monum.ent  is 
recognised  as  "without  ornaments  or  sculpture."     What!  a  struc- 

FouRTii  Series.  Vol.  VIII.— 1G 


250  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

ture  erected  "  solely  for  decoration,"  left  ■without  ornaments !  But 
yfQ  have  dealt  at  undue  lenL!;th  upon  this  problem  of  the  Propyla?a. 

The  Parthenon  presents  another  problem,  -which  is  no  less  interest- 
ing and  disputed.  "  It  is  a  curious  fact,"  says  M.  Beule,  "  that  for  nu- 
merous generations,  and  more  especially  during  the  past  half  century, 
the  Parthenon  sliould  have  been  visited  by  so  many  travellers, 
should  have  been  sketched,  measured,  and  analysed  by  so  many  artists, 
■without  any  of  them  perceiving  the  most  surprising  of  its  beauties." 
We  think,  for  our  part,  it  is  not  curious,  but  very  common,  at  least 
with  travellers,  ■svho  look  at  such  things,  not  with  their  o-\vn  eyes,  but 
through  those  of  canting  connoisseurship.  As  to  the  undetected 
beauty,  it  is  "  the  curve  or  inclination  given  to  all  the  great  lines 
considered  usually  to  be  quite  straight,  from  the  steps  on  ■".vhich  the 
temple  rests  to  the  entablature  that  crowns  it,  from  the  columns  of 
the  peristyle  to  the  \yalls  of  the  shell."  This,  ■which  is  a  truly 
•curious  fact,  ■was  first  discovered  in  1837,  by  Mr.  Peuthorne,  an 
English  architect. 

But  the  discoverer  ascribed  it,  not  to  principle,  but  to  accident;  he 
thought  it  caused  by  the  explosion  of  the  Turkish  po^wdcr  magazine, 
that  ruined  the  body  of  the  temple  in  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
following  year  two  German  architects  took  up  the  study  of  the 
question  with  the  speculative  confidence  of  their  country,  and  insist- 
ed that  the  thing  was  far  too  systematic  for  a  violent  accident.  A 
short  time  after  came  a  Frenchman,  with  his  precise  and  pictorial 
powers,  and  sketched,  in  all  its  antique  curvatures,  a  Restoration 
of  the  Parthenon.  About  this  time  another  Frenchman,  the  late 
Burnouf,  already  cited,  essayed  a  philosophic  explanation  in  the 
Deux  i\Tondes.*  "  To  the  eye,"  says  he,  "  as  to  science,  the  stabili- 
ty of  bodies  is  augmented  with  the  extension  of  the  base  .  .  .  Phidias 
[he  should  have  said  Ictinus,  the  true  architect]  gave,  therefore,  to 
his  temple  the  form,  of  a  truncated  pyramid.  He  inclined  toward 
one  another  the  walls  of  the  shell ;  the  columns  of  the  peristyle  were 
swerved  toward  the  interior,  :nid  especially  the  corner  cohmms,  on 
which  the  edifice  seemed  to  repose."  The  object  of  the  singularity 
was,  then,  according  to  this  theorist,  to  simply  insure  strength  or  its 
appearance. 

Subsequently,  Mr.  Penrose,  another  British  architect,  was  sent 
officially,  to  make  a  thorough  exploration  of  the  subject.  The  result 
was  published  in  1851,  in  a  book  which,  we  remember,  made  no 
small  sensation  in  London,  and  is  called  "Principles  of  Athenian 
Architecture."  A  juster  title  would  be,  however,  "  Statistics  of 
the  Parthenon,"  if  we  may  judge  from  the  indulgent  indications  of 
«  For  December,  18t7, 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  251 

M.  Beulc.  The  entire  building,  says  the  latter,  with  perhaps  a  touch 
of  sneer,  is  measured,  analyzed,  and  cyphered  to  the  ten- thousandth 
of  a  fraction.  Thus  we  know  what  is  the  exact  quantity  of  the  con- 
vexity of  the  plinth,  of  the  steps,  of  the  friezes,  and  the  frontispieces ; 
also  of'  the  diminution  in  the  diameter  of  the  column  from  the 
clumsier  archetype  of  the  previous  ages  of  the  Doric ;  further,  of 
the  inclination  of  the  entire  colonnade  toward  the  imaginary  centre  of 
the  monument ;  finally,  we  know  how,  on  the  contrary,  the  upper 
portions,  the  abaci,  the  capitals,  the  corruccs,  lean  outward.  All 
this,  says  our  roguish  Frenchman,  will  be  found  totalled  up  and  noted 
"like  a  musical  composition,''  in  the  book  of  Mr.  Penrose. 

But  Mr.  Penrose  throws  no  light,  it  seems,  upon  i\yQ  principles  of 
all  these  details,  although  such  was  the  promise  of  his  title,  and  the 
purpose  of  his  mission  :  a  circumstance  quite  as  characteristic  of  his 
English  nationality  as  the  accuracy  of  his  measurements.  He  even 
renounces  the  attempt  in  express  terms.  "  1  shall  content  myself," 
Bays  he,  "  with  suggesting  an  explanation  in  each  particular  case, 
without  attempting  anj^thing  so  diflicult,  and  probably  so  vain,  as  to 
search  for  a  theory  embracing  all  the  cases."  A  general  theory  he 
does,  however,  (M.  Beule  says,)  sometimes  attempt,  and  one  which  is, 
it  must  be  owned,  commodiously  comprehensive.  The  whole  thing 
is,  he  supposes,  an  affair  of  sentiment  or  taste,  diversifiable  with  the 
difierent  architects  and  advances  of  the  art,  and  drawn  iu  no  wise 
from  methodical  theory  or  from  tradition.  Here  is  certainly,  we  see,  a 
summary  and  sovereign  expedient  for  the  solution  of  "  each  particu- 
lar case ;"  that  is,  if  particular  cases  cunld  be  explained  except  by 
general  principles.  But  if  Mr.  Penrose  can  give  us  nothing  but  real 
negation  of  all  principle,  in  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the  disposi- 
tion, he  goes  more  learnedly  to  work  in  theorizing  upon  its  object. 

The  speculation  of  Burnouf  above  recited  had  been  published 
some  three  or  four  years  before  the  work  of  Mr.  Penrose,  and  so 
the  latter  could  not  overlook  or  well  evade  a  trial  in  turn.  He 
seems,  however,  too  rl])c  an  architect,  and  too  indiirerent  an  archce- 
ologist,  not  to  reject  both  the  conception  and  the  explanation  of  the 
French  writer.  The  mere  notion  of  comparing  the  Parthenon  to  a 
"truncated  pyramid"  must  shock  the  plumb-line  pragmatism  of 
the  artist  and  the  Englishman ;  and  it  must  do  so  the  more  violently, 
seeing  that  Burnouf  as.signed  no  better  reason  than  the  untenable 
consideration  of  strength.  Strength  was  manifestly  not  the  object 
in  an  edifice  of  that  description,  and  the  more  c.~pccially  since  its  ap- 
pearance involves  a  sacrifice  of  grace  and  elegance.  Mr.  Penrose 
vras  therefore  justified  in  looking  elsewhere  for  tlie  motive;  though 
not  exactly,  we  think,  in  finding  it  in  the  discoveries  of  modern  phys- 


252  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

ics.  After  going  into  a  disquisition  on  the  meclianism  of  the  eye, 
on  its  distortion,  (a  point  still  doubtful,)  of  the  real  relations  of  the 
objects  seen,  and  the  correction  thereto  administered  by  the  judg- 
ment, he  concludes  that  the  employment  of  the  sloping  lines  in  the 
Greek  monuments  must  have  been  meant  to  spare  this  trouble  to 
the  judgment  of  the  gazers  !  "  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  other 
reason  for  those  deviations  than  that  they  v.-ero  intended  as  optical 
corrections,  or  as  corrections  of  certain  influences  about  to  be  con- 
sidered, -which  tend  to  make  the  apparent  differ  from  the  real,"  p.  77. 
Talk  of  Manchester  machinery  and  its  labour-saving  exploits,  and 
of  the  optical  discoveries  of  Newton  and  his  successors,  ■^•hich  leave 
the  judgment  at  its  old  task- work  of  correcting  our  perverse  eyes  ; 
while  mere  artists,  and  even  mechanics  of  sense,  two  and  a  half 
thousand  years  ago,  knew  how  to  give  it  quite  a  holiday  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  public  monuments.  And  this  is,  seriously,  the 
emissary  sent  from  London  to  the  Acropolis,  to  solve  a  difficulty  of 
philosophical  archnoology  ! 

Mr.  Penrose  has,  however,  made  a  species  of  discovery  no  less 
characteristic  of  his  countrymen  than  the  statistics  ;  for  English- 
men, if  not  philosophers,  arc  well-crammed  "classical  scholars." 
He  was  the  first,  it  seems,  to  cite  from  Cicero  a  really  curious 
passage,  which  attests  the  curvature  in  question  to  have  been  general 
among  the  ancients.  The  great  ad.vocate,  in  one  of  his  orations 
agamst  Verres,  recites  an  anecdote  to  bring  contempt  as  well  as 
criminality  upon  the  plundering  praetor.  "  He  (Verres)  arrives  in 
the  temple  of  Castor.  He  casts  his  eyes  around  it ;  he  sees  the 
ceiling  richly  decorated,  and  the  whole  complete  and  new.  He 
turns  round,  and  asks  what  he  is  to  do  ?  Whereupon  one  of  the  gang 
of  vagabonds  whom  he  has  boasted  of  keeping  round  him,  says  to 
him:  'You,  Yerres,  have  nothing  to  get  done  here,  unless,  perhaps, 
you  wish  to  make  the  columns  perpendicular.^  This  man,  entirely 
destitute  of  every  sort  of  knowlcilge,  asks  what  it  is  '  to  make  a  per- 
pendicular?' He  is  told  that  in  a  temple  there  is  usually  rial  one 
column  ichich  does  not  deviate fj-om  the  vertical  line.  'A  capital 
idea,'  he  cries ;  Met  the  columns  be  made  perpendicular.'  "  Is  it  not 
singular  that  the  extension  of  the  practice  of  inclination,  attested  so 
authentically,  because  Incidentally,  in  this  witty  story,  should  not 
have  hinted  to  Mr.  Penrose  some  more  uniform  cause  than  taste? 

We  now  proceed  to  M.  Beulc  himself,  and  his  solution,  which 
the  reader  is  requested  to  peruse  attentively,  in  the  following  pas- 
sage: "The  vertical  curves  in  question,"  says  he,  •'are  of  a  foreign 
origin,  and  traceable  historically  to  the  temples  of  high  antiquitij. 
The  swelling  of  the  columns,  and  the  ailectution  of  the  pyra?nidal 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens  233 

form,  are  the  secret  of  all  the  deviations  frorn  the  perpendicular. 
These  traditions  were  brought  from  Egypt  into  Greece  with  the 
Doric  order,  as  the  Ionic,  with  its  elegant  richness,  was  brought 
from  Asia.  The  most  ancient  of  the  temples  of  Greece,  of  Sicily, 
and  of  Italy,  are  those  whose  columns  have  the  broadest  oonicality. 
Even  the  base  of  the  doors  is  widened  in  obedience  to  the  Doric 
rule,  at  Mycenre,  a  Homeric  city.  As  the  shells  of  the  temples  of 
these  remote  ages  are  all  fallen,  we  are  unable  to  judge  directly  of 
their  inclination.  But  had  it  not  existed — which  1  do  not  believe — 
it  would  be  natural  that  a  more  delicate  degree  of  art  should  create  - 
it,  in  order  that  the  lines  should  all  have  a  common  tendency  to- 
ward the  pyramid.  It  is  to  be  remarked  that,  in  the  progress  of  its 
refinement,  the  Doric  architecture  diminished  gradually  its  clumsy 
columns ;  which  is  a  proof  that  the  age  of  Pericles,  so  far  from. being 
the  first  inventor,  reduced  the  measure  of  this  pyraniidal  protuber- 
ance to  just  proportions.  It  was  a  tradition  that  was  respected, 
because  it  gave  the  edifice  a  character  o?  strength  and  stability,  but 
only  by  modifying  the  proportions  so  as  to  substitute  a  virile  grace 
for  heaviness.  As  to  the  contrary  inclination  of  the  cornices,  the 
pediments,  &c.,  which,  instead  of  leaning  inward  upon  the  centre, 
incline  outward,  it  would  be  difficult  to  bring  it  under  the  theory  of 
'optical  corrections.'  I  see  a  reason  for  it  quite  simple,  too  simple, 
perhaps,  to  be  admitted :  it  is,  that  those  upper  portions  bore  the 
ornaments  and  painting.  Instead,  then,  of  receding  from  the  eye  by 
following  the  pyramidal  slope,  it  would  bo  natural  that  they  should 
counteract  it,  and,  by  advancing  toward  the  spectator,  present  him 
all  the  details  of  their  decoration." 

This  is  certainly  a  great  advance  on  the  refinements  of  Mr.  Pen- 
rose, and  even  some  enlargement  of  the  conception  of  Burnouf  It 
recognises,  like  the  latter,  the  resemblance  of  the  Parthenon,  in  the 
particulars  in  question,  to  a  truncated  pyramid.  It  docs  much  bet- 
ter, in  observing  the  resemblanco  to  be  gL-ncral  in  all  the  archaic 
temples  of  Greece  proper,  and  of  ]\lagna  Grajcia ;  and,  above  all,  in 
pointing  out  the  derivation  of  the  usage,  as  well  as  of  the  Doric 
order  itself,  from  Egypt.  These  are  all  progressive  steps  in  the 
right  road  to  explanation,  in  the  road  of  an  historical  analysis. 
But  it  must  be  owned  the  author  docs  not  reach  the  explanation ; 
he  even  offers,  we  see,  nothing  but  a  bare  statement  of  facts,  that 
merely  shifts  the  position  of  the  question.  The  inquirj'  still  re- 
turns: What  was  the  reason  of  the  thing  in  Egypt?  in  whose  case  the 
explanation  is  no  whit  more  easy  than  in  that  of  A  thens.  It  might  be 
even  asked,  additionally,  whence  the  constancy  of  connexion  between 


254  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  [April, 

the  forms  of  tlie  pyramid  and  this  Egyptian  or  Doric  order?  And 
further,  why  this  special  form  of  architecture  should  arise  in  Egypt, 
or  the  Ionic  be  of  Asiatic  origin  ?  So  that,  instead  of  affording  a 
solution,  the  additions  of  M.  ]>cule  vrould  appear  to  have  only  mul- 
tiplied the  difficulties  of  the  problem;  for,  in  recognising  the  exist- 
ence of  a  uniformity  of  tradition,  he  has  excluded  the  sophistical 
expedient  of  capricious  "  taste." 

Yet  who  -would  think  that,  after  all,  he  still  resorts  to  it  himself 
at  last?  The  Greek  architects  must  have  been  actuated  more  by 
"  sentiment,"  he  thinks,  than  by  science.  "  They  curved  their  edi- 
fices even  as  nature  curves  the  lulls  and  the  horizon.  These  curvi- 
linear imitations  of  the  works  of  nature  give  to  the  Parthenon  some- 
thing life-like  and  harmonious  that  impresses  us  unconsciously. 
The  architect  has  been  so  far  from  aiming  to  correct  our  percep- 
tions, that,  on  the  contrary,  he  must  have  reckoned  on  their  unso- 
phisticated faithfulness."  Here  the  question  is  referred,  in  fuct,  to 
the  arbitrament  of  taste,  both  in  relation  to  the  architects  and^^to 
the  spectators.  I^or  is  it  rescued  from  this  mj'sticism  by  the  ob- 
servation, even  were  it  true,  that  "the  straight  lino  is  a  geometrical 
abstraction,  never  found  in  nature;"  for  true  art  does  not  consist  in 
reproducing  what  is  found  in  nature,  but  in  producing  Avhat  might 
be  found  there,  but  never  is;  iu  fact,  it  is  another  species  of  G//5/rac- 
tion.  But,  moreover,  it  is  not  true  that  the  straight  line  is  as  de- 
scribed. For  bodies  fall,  light  moves,  crystals  form  in  straight  lines  : 
in  short,  the  forces  of  entire  nature,  perhaps,  tend  to  realize  this 
line;  and  if  it  does  not  prevail  practically,  the  failure  is  due  but 
to  disturbance.  In  fact,  the  first  and  fundamental  law  of  mo- 
tion describes  this  line.  We  make  this  response  to  the  standing 
argument  for  Hogarth's  waving  "  line  of  beauty,"  to  which  M. 
Beulc  gives  no  new  validity  by  repetition.  As  to  himself,  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  refer  him  to  the  passage  cited,  where  he  says,  and  very 
justly,  that  "  the  Doric  order  of  architecture,  in  strict  proportion 
as  it  grew  marc  perfect,  passed  from  the  curve  toward  the  straight 
line."  To  extenuate  this  contradiction  it  is,  however,  to  be  noted, 
that  be  appears  to  allude,  in  this  virtual  refuge  to  the  test  of  taste, 
less  to  the  vertical  than  to  the  horizontal  class  of  curvatures.  But 
he  has  also  declared  the  latter  to  be  a  consequence  of  the  former:  a 
connexion  which  we  invito  him  to  unfold  the  links  of  in  his  next 
edition.  Moreover,  while  recognising,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  fore- 
going extract,  that  the  pyramidal  doilections  had  been  transmitted 
by  tradition,  he  asserts,  instead  of  canvassing  the  cause  and  origin 
of  the  tradition,  that  the  motive  of  its  application  to  the  Parthenon 
vras  strength  and  stability  :  a  notion  of  which  even  Penrose  saw  the 


1856.]  The  Monuments  of  Athens.  255 

incompatibility.  In  fine,  then,  M.  Beul^  has  left  the  difficulty  -where 
he  found  it. 

What  says  the  theory  above  presented,  in  elucidation  of  the  propy- 
Isea,  upon  this  other  curious  question  of  philosophical  archeology  ? 

It  has  been  submitted  that  the  pyramid  -which  marked  the  tomb  of 
the  departed  demi-god,  ^vas  the  first  monumental  hlructure  and  the 
earliest  edifice  assigned  to  religion  ;  that  it  gave  formal  and  material 
origin,  no  less  than  moral,  to  the  temple  proper,  Avhich,  in  fact,  pro- 
ceeds from  it  originally  in  the  character  of  adjunct ;  that  afterwards 
a  second  pyramid  vras  placed  at  proper  distance  from  the  primitive, 
to  constitute  an  ampler  gateway  to  the  euclosurc,  destined  to  receive 
the  votaries  and  the  victims ;  that  the  obvious  exigences  of  this  pur- 
pose, as  the  suspension  of  the  gate  and  the  support  of  the  roofings^ 
-would  force  a  change  in  the  receding  jambs,  such  as  detruncating 
both  the  pyramids,  and  first  inverting  the  divergence  into  conver-. 
gence,  to  aftenvards  oscillate,  as  above  indicated,  toward  the  vertical ; 
that  then  the  gate-posts,  thus  metamorphosed,  from  their  points  and 
•angles,  to  a  sort  of  cylinders,  became  the  column  of  the  Doric  order 
of  architecture ;  that,  in  fine,  the  propyht;um  is  but  a  cumulative 
repetition,  on  the  one  hand,  of  the  square  p3Tamids,  to  constitute  its 
five  door-ways,  and,  on  the  other,  of  the  cyhndrical,  to  add  its  double 
colonnades.  Though  every  step  of  this  procession  be  authenticated 
by  surviving  samples,  -which  the  demurrer  would  be  held  in  argu- 
ment to  explain  otherwise,  before  being  listened  to,  yet  pertinacity 
against  a  theory  so  paradoxical  migiit  still  find  refuge  in  the  ruined 
condition  of  those  serial  documents,  and  their  obscurity  in  time  and 
place.  But  when  the  Parthenon,  that  last  perfection  of  the  archi- 
tecture of  all  antiquity,  is  demonstrated  mathematically  to  describe  a 
"truncated  pyramid,"  and  is  thus  shown  not  to  have  been  able, 
though  the  refined  result  of  all  previous  progresses,  to  quite  ehmi- 
nate  this  all-pervading  and  universal  type  of  structure,  we  have  an 
undeniable  fact,  more  paradoxical  than  the  theory,  and  which  evinces 
as  -R-ell  as  involves  it,  and  that  by  the  most  crucial  of  attestations. 

There  remains,  then,  only  to  give  in  turn  the  explanation  of  this 
general  fact,  or,  in  other  terms,  the  plalusophij  of  the  theory,  a  point 
left  utterly  untouched  by  both  the  authors  mentioned,  and,  we  think, 
by  all  others. 

It  is  found  jointly  in  the  natures  of  tlie  type  in  question  and  of  the 
human  mind.  The  pyramid  is  known  to  school-boys  to  be  the  sim- 
plest of  all  figures,  and  so  the  easiest  for  construction  a.s  for  concep- 
tion. It  must,  by  consequence,  have  been  spontaneously  the  carhest 
mode  of  architecture  to  be  developed  by  the  mental  infancy  of 
heathen  primitive  humanity.     Both  these  factors  of  the  result  are 


256  The  Monumc?its  of  Athens.  [April, 

too  self-evident  to  be  insisted  on.  As  to  the  subsequent  progression, 
it  is  demonstrable  likewise,  that  it  could  have  been  effected  only  by 
repetition  of  the  type  form,  uncle?-  the  mechanical  modifications 
which  the  complication  rendered  necessary ;  just  as  in  geometry,  the 
abstract  figures  are  all  complications  of,  and  thus  resolvable  into, 
the  sole  element  of  the  triangle.  M.  Beule  admires  the  absti- 
nence, as  he  regards  it,  of  the  Greek  architects  in  keeping,  in  their 
grandest  structures,  to  the  combination  of  a  few  elements  ;  he  even 
attributes  the  supposed  supremacy  of  Greek  art  to  this  reserve. 
The  real  elements,  we  now  perceive,  -were  still  more  few  than  he 
imagines,  and  the  reserve,  not  taste  or  choice,  but  narrow  necessary 
impotence.  As  to  the  raptures  about  ancient  art,  we  will  content 
ourselves  with  asking  if  such  a  criticism — still  the  exclusive  one — as 
that  enforced  throughout  the  foregoing  pages,  can  be  of  authority 
upon  the -arts  or  the  ideas  of  antiquity? 

In  fine,  the  principles  unfolded  will  explain  also,  quite  spontane- 
ously, the  secondary  questions  raised  by  M.  Beule"s  indications; 
such  as  the  union  of  the  pyramidal  inclination  with  the  Doric  order 
the  emigraHon  of  this  order  inlu  ITcllas  from  the  Ts  ile,  and  the  deriva- 
tion, on  the  other  hand,  of  the  Ionic  from  i^.sia  Minor.  The  Doric 
order  was  the  first  cesthetical  transformation  of  the  pyramid.  Both 
originated  on  the  Nile,  because  Egyptian  architecture  is  the  most 
indigenous,  if  not  the  earliest  on  the  globe.  The  Ionic,  which  is 
simply  a  refinement  of  the  Doric  order,  was  the  product  of  Assyri- 
an and  of  Ionian  civilisation,  just  as,  afterward,  the  Corinthian  was 
the  contribution  of  Greece  herself,  because  the  circuit  describes  the 
sequence  of  social  influence  and  mental  progress.  With  the  Corin- 
thian order  closed  the  simple,  angular,  and  inclined  epoch,  to  which 
succeeded  the  Roman  composite,  and  circularitT/  of  the  dome  and 
arch.  And  if  the  Gothic  followed  this,  it  was  only  when  the  mind 
of  Europe  had  fxUen  back  into  its  primitive  condition,  and  thus 
expressed  itself  again  in  the  pyramidal  architecture.  This  phenom- 
enon is,  then,  an  aJmiiuble  testimony  to  our  theory.  And  the  theory 
also  affords  an  explanation  somewhat  more  rational  than  the  habit- 
ual and  profound  one,  that  the  Gothic  spires  are  meant  to  point  to 
heaven. 

M.  Beule  discusses  at  length,  and  no  doubt  learnedly,  the  famous 
sculptures  both  of  the  Parthenon  and  other  monumental  relics  of  the 
Acropolis.  But  for  this  interesting  survey  we  refer  the  curious  to 
the  work  itself  Our  special  purpose  was  to  offer  them  what  they 
would  probably  not  have  encountered  in  the  books  of  travels,  or  of 
technicalities  upon  the  subject. 


1856.3      Princeton  Rcvietv  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.  257 


AET  v.— THE  PRINCETON  REVIEW   ON  ARMINIANISM  AND 
GRACE. 

The  Princeton  Review  has  for  many  years  held  a  high  place 
among  theological  journals.  It  has  numbered  among  its  -^vriters 
several  men  of  liberal  culture  and  of  varied  knowledge.  Its  tone 
has  generally  been  scholarly,  and  its  discussions  of  controverted 
points  have,  in  the  main,  been  marked  by  decorum,  as  ^vell  as  by 
ability.  It  is,  certainly,  one  of  the  last  journals  in  which  we  should 
have  expected  an  article  such  as  the  second  in  the  January  number 
of  the  Repertory,  (for  1856,)  entitled  "  Arminianism  and  Grace." 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  of  this  article,  that  no  man,  with  even 
a  tolerable  knowledge  of  the  history  of  theology,  could  have  hon- 
estly written  it.  It  is  such  an  article  as  no  educated  Calvinist, 
endowed  with  the  sympathies  of  a  Christian,  nay,  even  with  the 
instincts  of  a  gentleman,  can  read  without  shame.  We  say  these 
things  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger.  A  few  extracts  from  the 
article  will  suffice  to  show  that  we  have  good  ground  for  saying 
them. 

The  writer  in  the  Princeton  Review  professes  to  "  have  no  desire 
to  wound  the  feelings  of  his  Arminian  brethren."  But  it  is  his 
"settled  conviction,  that  the  principles  on  which  Arminians  object 
to  Calvinism  are  utterly  subversive  of  the  true  doctrines  of  grace ;" 
and  so,  he  reluctantly  undertakes  the  task  of  "  defending  the  truth 
and  guarding  the  people  from  deception."  In  this  gentle  and 
friendly  spirit,  he  declares  that  "  the  publications  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  the  palladium  of  Arminianism  in  this  country, 
abound  with  bold  and  unscriptural  assertions  on  this  subject ;  and 
that  Arminianism,  in  its  essential  and  avowed  principles,  is  sub- 
versive of  grace."  He  says  of  the  Methodist  preachers*  that  they 
come — '•with  their  pulpit  performances  a.-,  well  as  their  publications" 
— "  stealthily  into  quiet  and  peaceful  neighbourhoods,  or  enter  heartily 
into  divided  congregations,  and  glory  in  the  work  of  making  prose- 
lytes." lie  is  forced  to  the  "  painful  conviction  that  Arminianism 
is  a  delusion ;"  and  finds  it  "  mournful  to  think  of  so  many  persons 
deceived,  and  deceiving  others."  lie  asks,  (again  with  "painful 
interest,")  "  Can  those  who  hold  the  Arminian  principles,  presented 
above,  preach  the  Gospel  fully  ?     Can  they  fully  present  to  their 

*  The  writer  puts  this  accusation  upon  the  "  Doctrinal  Tracts,"  but  it  is  plain 
that  "Doctrinal  Tracts"  can  exhibit  no  "pulpit  performances."  The  grammar 
of  the  Princeton  writer  is  equal  to  his  logic  and  his  Christian  charity. 


258  Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace,     [April, 

hearers  the  God  of  the  Bible,  or  the  Saviour  there  revealed?  .  .  . 
Is  it  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  whom 
they  set  forth  ?  Or  is  it  not  their  own  mistaken  idea  of  ^Yhat  that 
God  ought  to  be,  and  to  do,  which  is  proclaimed?"  Finally,  at  the 
end  of  his  article  and  of  his  charity,  he  states  the  "great  practical 
evil  of  Methodism  to  be,"  as  he  believes,  "the  fiilse  conversions  and 
the  false  form  of  religion  which  it  fosters." 

But  perhaps  the  most  siprnificant  and  the  most  shameful  feature 
of  the  whole  article  is  the  fact  that  it  refers  its  readers,  for  informa- 
tion as  to  the  pi-actical  working  of  Methodism,  to  "  Cooke's  Centu- 
ries," a  book  so  vile  and  so  vulgar,  so  destitute  at  once  of  the  spirit 
of  religion  and  of  the  dignity  of  scholarship,  that  we  cannot  imagine 
the  possibility  of  its  finding  shelter  and  protection  among  the  theo- 
logians of  the  Princeton  Seminary,  who  have,  heretofore,  maintain- 
ed before  the  world  the  bearing  of  scholars  and  of  gentlemen. 

That  our  readers  may  see  the  character  of  the  book  which  the 
writer  in  the  Princeton  Ileview  endorses,  we  give  a  few  specimens 
from  "  Cooke's  Centuries ;"  not,  indeed,  the  worst  that  might  be 
selected,  but  quite  bad  enough  to  show  the  evil  animus  of  the  unhap- 
py author.  We  have  not  space  for  his  ipsissima  verba,  (except 
where  we  use  quotation  marks,)  but  our  readers  may  be  sure  that 
we  cannot  state  his  slanders  of  Methodism  more  strongly  than  ho 
states  them  himself.  According,  then,  to  this  vei'acious  "  centurion," 
about  "  nine-tenths  "  of  Methodist  conversions  "  are  found  to  be  spu- 
rious after  a  longer  or  shorter  trial."  (Vol.  i,  p.  2GG.)  The  Method- 
ist "  system  brings  the  matter  of  conversion  to  God  into  contempt," 
and  offers  "  to  every  one  invited  to  conversion  a  chance  of  ten  to  one 
that  he  will  be  cheated  into  a  disastrous  delusion."  (Vol.  i,  p.  269.) 
It  is  "  a  contest  to  spread  over  the  greatest  number  of  people  the  pesti- 
lence of  a  spurious  conversion,  which  conducts  its  victims  to  irrelig- 
ion  and  infidelity."  (Vol.  ii,  p.  132.)  It  "  glories  in  proselytisra  as  its 
main  accomplishment."  (Vol.  i,  p.  2S3.)  Though  "  the  largest  relig- 
ious denomination  in  the  United  States,"  the  "Methodise  Church  is 
working  more  evil  than  good."  (Vol.  i,  p.  314.)  Its  "  so-called  revival 
operations"  are  "  comic  actings ;"  (vol.  i,  p.  319 ;)  and  its  camp-meet- 
ings exhibit  "hocus-pocus  comedies."  (A^ol.  i,  p.  330.)  It  is  a 
"  common  enemy  of  Christianity,  a  great  corrupting  cause."  (Vol.  ii, 
p.  57.)  It  is  "  a  com'.pt  and  corrvptini^  corporation,  and  the  best 
interests  of  religion  require  that  it  should  cease"  (Vol.  ii,  p.  61.) 
Its  "  bishops  claim  to  rule  by  the  grace  of  God,  as  really  as  do  the 
despotic  monarchs  of  Europe;"  (vol.  ii,  p.  63;)  "every  mother's  son 
of  the  conference  is  ecclesiastically  their  bond  slave  ;"  each  bishop  is 
"  an  absolute  despot  in  the  affairs  of  the  Church ;"  (vol.  ii,  p.  75  ;)  and 


1856.]      Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.  259 

if  "he  have  any  special  ends  to  carry  in  the  conference,  his  ivill 
is  irresistible."  (Vol.  ii,  p.  79.)  Promotions  are  reached  in  the 
Methodist  Chui-ch,  "  by  all  the  arts  best  known  to  those  who  are 
mere  wrigglers  into  place;"  (vol.  ii,  p.  84;)  indeed,  "the  desimble 
places  are  made  the  stake  of  a  game,  in  which  tlie  most  expert 
players  are  sm-e  to  win,  and  some  of  the  players  improve  such  oppor- 
tunities as  offer,  to  play  for  money."  (Vol.  ii,  p.  01.)  "  Finesse  and 
deceit  are  prominent  characteristics  of  Methodist  ministers ;"  (vol 
ii,  p.  100;)  the  body  is  "schooled  in  all  the  arts  of  deception,  and 
made  fertile  in  tricks  and  inventions  ;  it  is  so  inured  to  these  as 
to  lose  all  sense  of  wrong  in  them  ;"  (vol.  ii,  p.  113 ;)  nay,  Method- 
ism itself  "  is  only  another  name  for  duplicity  and  deceit."  (Vol.  ii, 
p.  120.)  It  "  lives  and  thrives  by  a  falsehood."  (Vol.  ii,  p.  144.)  It 
turns  out  "  infidels  by  millions."  (Vol.  ii,  p.  14G.)  Or,  to  sum  up  all 
in  one  sentence,  as  this  "  accuser  of  the  brethren"  does  upon  his 
title  page,  "Methodism  is  not  a  branch  of  the  Clmrcli  of  Christ." 

Our  Christian  charity  leads  us  to  hope  that  the  author  of  these  hor- 
rible inventions  is  insane.  If  not,  he  is  a  man  of  filthy  mind  and 
corrupt  heart.  On  him  we  have  no  words  to  spend.  But  with  the 
Princeton  Review  the  case  is  different.  That  journal  bears  upon  its 
title-page  the  name  of  the  "  Rev.  CiiARLE.s  IIouge,  D.  D.,"  as  editor ; 
but  he  did  not  write — he  could  not  have  written — the  article  in  wliich 
the  readers  of  his  Review  are  recommended  to  read  Parsons  Cooke. 
In  the  name  of  our  common  Christianity  we  ask — and  believe  that 
all  good  men  will  justify  us  in  asking — at  the  hands  of  Dr.  Hodge,  a 
disclaimer  of  the  mass  of  slander  and  falsehood  which  the  Review 
has,  by  implication  at  least,  taken  upon  it  to  endorse. 

Let  us  now  examine  briefly,  and  in  order,  Avhat  the  Princeton 
"writer  calls  "proofs"  that  Arminianism  subverts  gi-ace.  1.  His 
first  proof  is  taken  from  the  volume  of  "  Doctrinal  Tracts,  issued 
in  their  present  form  by  order  of  the  General  Conference :  " 

"On  pacre  2o  of  this  volume,  a  Calvini^t  is  rc-iuvsinitod  as  savincr,  'God 
might  justly  have  passed  by  all  men;'  i.  e.,  miplic  ju-iiy  have  left  the  ^vhoIe 
race  to  perish,  without  providing  salvation  for  any.  To  this  the  ■writer,  John 
Wesley  himself,  we  believe,  replies:  '  Are  you  sure  he  might?  Where  is  it 
written?  I  cannot  find  it  in  the  word  of  (!od.  Therefore  I  reject  it  as  a 
bold  precaiious  assertion,  utterly  unsupported  by  holy  Scripture.'  But,  says 
the  Calvinist,  '  You  know  in  your  own  conscience,  that  God  might  justlv  have 
passed  by  you.'  '  I  deny  it,' says  "Wesley.  'That  (iod  might  justly,  for  my 
unfaithfulness  to  his  grace,  have  given  me  up  long  ago,  I  grant;  but  this  con- 
cession supposes  me  to  have  had  grace.'  This  is  plain  and  unmistakable  lan- 
guage. '  I  deny  that  God  might  justly  have  p.a-cd  by  me  and  all  men.  I 
reject  it  as  a  bold  precarious  assertion,  utterly  unsupported  by  holv  Si-rip- 
turc.'  The  oppo.^ito  aflirmatlon  necessarily  follows.  There  is  no  mi-l'JJe 
j.^und  between  them.  God  could  not  justly  have  left  me  and  all  men  to 
perish  in  our  fallen  stato.     He  was  bound  in  justice  to  provide,  salvation  ;  and, 


260  Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.      [April, 

of  course,  to  make  it  known  and  sjive  prace  to  accept  it,  inasmuch  as  the  pro- 
vision, -witliout  these,  would  avail  nothing!  It  -would  have  been  unjust  to 
have  left  \jic\  us  without  them !  lUit  where,  then,  is  the  grace  in  doing  what 
he  could  not  justly  have  omitted  to  do  ?  Is  it  an  act  of  grace  for  the  Most 
High  to  do  justice  ?  Certainly  not.  There  is  no  grace  in  such  a  transaction. 
The  Gospel  provision  is  only  what  lie  was  bound  to  make ;  and  to  call  that  a 
dispensation  of  grace  v/hich  ju-tice  required  at  his  hand,  is  but  to  stultify  our- 
eelves  and  deceive  mankind.  This  is  our  first  prcK:)f  that  Arminianism  subverts 
grace.  It  is  sufficient  and  unanswerable  were  there  no  other.  We  have  never 
seen  a  more  bold  or  dangerous  error  couched  in  so  few  words  by  anv  writer 
who  pretended  to  be  ovanirelical.  '  It  Is  aiiul!u-r  (losj)ul,  v.hlch  indeed  is  not 
another' — it  overthrows  all.  And  yet  we  shall  see  that  this  error,  here  so 
boldly  set  forth,  runs  through  Arminianism." 

Had  the  writer  meant  to  bo  decidedly  fair,  he  -would  have  quoted 
a  little  more  from  p.  25.  Let  us  supply  his  omissions.  Mr.  "Wesley 
had  cited  (p.  8.)  the  Confession  of  Faith  in  these  -words  :  "  By  the' 
decree  of  God,  for  the  manifestation  of  his  glory,  some  men  and 
angels  are  predestinated  unto  everlasting  life,  and  others  foreor- 
dained to  everlasting  death  ;"  and  had  also  quoted  Calvin's  language 
as  follows :  "  All  men  are  not  created  for  the  same  end ;  but  some  are 
foreordained  to  eternal  life,  others  to  eternal  damnation.  So,  accord- 
ing as  every  man  was  created  for  the  one  end  or  the  other,  we  say 
he  was  elected,  that  is,  predestinated  to  life,  or  reprobated,  that  is, 
predestinated  to  damnation."  The  discussion  that  follows  is  on 
reprobation.  On  p.  24,  he  asks  the  question,  "  How  can  you  pos- 
sibly reconcile  reprobation  with  those  Scriptures  that  declare  the 
justice  of  God  ?"'  and  cites  (one  passage  for  all)  Ezek.  xviii,  2.  etc., 
remarking  that  ''  through  Uiis  whole  passage,  God  is  pleased  to 
appeal  to  man  himself,  touchinir  the  justice  of  his  proceedings. 
And  well  might  he  appeal  to  our  own  conscience,  according  to  the 
account  of  them  [i.  e.,  of  God's  proceedings]  which  is  here  given. 
But  it  is  an  account  which  all  the  art  of  man  will  never  reconcile 
"with,  unconditional  reprobation."  It  is  in  immediate  connexion 
Tfith  this  appeal  to  the  Divine  justice,  that  the  passage  occurs 
"which  our  reviewer  mutilates.  It  reads  as  follows:  '"Do  you  think 
it  will  cut  the  knot  to  say.  '  Wliy,  if  God  might  justly  have  passed 
by  all  men,  (speak  out  if  God  m'lg^ht  just  1 1/  ho.ye  reprobated  all  men, 
for  it  comes  to  the  same  point,)  then  he  may  justly  pass  by  some. 
But  God  might  justly  have  passed  by  all  men.'  Are  you  sure  he 
might?  Where  is  it  written'.'  I  cannot  find  it  in  the  word  of  God. 
Therefore  I  reject  it  as  a  bold  precarious  assertion,  utterly  unsup- 
ported by  holy  Scripture.  If  you  say,  '  But  you  know  in  your  own 
conscience  God  might  justly  have  passed  by  you:'  I  deny  it. 
That  God  might  jtistlij,  for  my  unfaithfulness  to  his  grace,  have 
given  me  up  long  ago,  I  grant:  but  this  concession  supposes 
me  to  have  had  that  grace  which  you  say  a  reprobate  never  had. 


1856.]      Princeton  Review  on  Arminiamsm  and  Grace.  261 

But  besides,  in  making  tLis  supposition  of  what  God  might  have 
justly  done,  you  suppose  his  justice  might  have  been  separated  from 
his  other  attributes,  from  his  mercy  in  particular.  But  this  never 
was,  nor  ever  will  be :  nor,  indeed,  is  it  possible  it  should.  All  his 
attributes  are  inseparably  joined  :  they  cannot  be  divided,  not  for  a 
moment.  Therefore  this  whole  argument  stands  not  only  on  an 
unscriptural,  but  on  an  absurd,  impossible  supposition." 

Mr.  Wesley  here  asserts,  (1)  that  a  universal  reprobation  of  the 
human  race  would  have  been  unjust  in  Goi»  according  to  God's 
own  account  of  his  justice  as  given  in  the  Scriptures ;  (2)  that  such 
a  reprobation  is  unsupported  by  Scripture;  and  (3)  that  it  would 
imply  that  the  Divine  attributes  operate  singly  and  sepcrately,  which 
is  impossible. 

And  this,  according  to  the  Review,  "subverts  grace!"  How? 
Because  "  it  is  not  an  act  of  grace  for  the  Most  High  to  do  justice !" 
Does  the  reviewer  mean  to  assert  that  God  cannot  be  at  once  gi-a- 
cious  and  just  ?  Or  is  he  yet  so  ignorant  of  theological  distinctions 
as  not  to  know  that  "  grace,"  in  this  discu:^sion,  is  not  opposed  to 
God's  justice,  but  to  man's  desert?  If,  indeed,  human  merit  alone 
had  entered  into  the  question,  the  race  would  have  ended  Avith 
Adam  ;  and  it  was  only  in  virtue  of  the  covenant  of  grace  that 
descendants  were  born  to  him.  Under  that  covenant  God  is  bound, 
not,  indeed,  by  any  desert  of  man,  (ibr  tliat  would  preclude  grace,) 
but  by  his  o\vn  faithfulness,  to  offer  salvation  in  Christ  to  all  who 
fell  in  Adam.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  Arminians;  this,  too,  is  the 
doctrine  of  Scripture.  The  Gospel  system  is  called  by  St.  Paul 
the  "  gi'ace  of  God,  given  to  us  in  Ciu-ist  Jesus."  And  he  tells  us 
that  "the  grace  of  God,  which  bringeth  salvation  to  all  men,  (// 
auTi^pio^  ndoiv  dvOpoj-rrocc;,)  hath  appeared ;"  (Tit.  ii,  11;)  that  "the 
living  God  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  especially  those  that  believe;" 
(1  Tim.  iv,  10;)  that  he  "will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and  to 
come  unto  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  "  (1  Tim.  ii,  4.)  According 
to  the  Gospel  scheme,  "As  in  Adam  all  die,  so  in  Christ  shall  all 
be  made  alive."^  This  OeXrjfia  Gtoi)  is  his.  determinate  counsel — a 
decree  "  of  his  good  pleasure."  "Not,  however,  that  it  would  have 
been  consistent  for  God  to  desert  the  human  race  and  leave  it  to 
perish  ;  the  divine  goodness  forbids  such  a  supposition.  The  simple 
meaning  is,  that  no  external  necessity  compelled  him  to  it,  and 
that  it  was  his  free  grace,  v»Ithout  desert  or  worthiness  on  the  part 
of  man."* 

Had  our  reviewer  read  in  the  "  Doctrinal  Tracts,"  for  the  first 
time,  the  assertion,  that  "  if  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faithful  and 

■  *»  Knapp,  Thcol.,  §  Sa 


262  Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.      [April, 

just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,"  he  would  doubtless  have  turned  upon 
the  writer  with,  "How?  Do  you  involve  GoiS^s  justice  in  the  for- 
giveness of  sins  ■?  Your  doctrine  subverts  grace."'  And  his  logic 
bears  against  St.  John  quite  as  forcibly  as  against  Mr.  Wesley. 

So  much  for  the  first  so-called  "  proof;"  let  us  glance  now  at  the 
next. 

"  Tlie  next  proof  is  from  the  same  volume  of  Tracts,  p.  154.  'We  believe 
that  in  the  moment  Adam  fell,  lie  had  no  freedom  of  vAW  left.'  If  tliis  be  true, 
Adam  was  no  longer  a  free  agent.  A  I'r.jc  agent  Mithout  freedom  of  v.-il!  is  of 
course  an  absurdity  which  no  one  will  maintain.  Into  the  same  state  also  M-as 
his  posterity  brought.  We  have,  by  nature,  no  more  freedom  of  v.ill  than  he 
had  after  the  fall.  Then  either  we  are  unaccountable  beings,  or,  in  order  that 
-we  might  be  held  responsible,  God  v,a5  bound  to  restore  our  freedom  through 
the  disfiensation  of  Christ.  lie  certainly  could  not  have  held  us  accountable 
without  freedom  of  will.  lie  must  then,  on  Arminian  principles,  either  treat 
us  as  irrational  beings,  or  restore  our  llbertv' ;  i.  e.,  he  must  provide  a  Saviour, 
through  whom  this  freedom  of  will  comes,  or  he  could  not  hold  any  man  re- 
sponsible for  his  conduct.  The  iMoiliodist  Church  holds  that  he  has  done  the 
latter;  i.  <?.,  restored  this  liberty.  ]'>ut  where,  we  ask  again,  is  the  grace — the 
unmerited  favor  of  God  in  this  transaction — in  doing  what  he  was  bound  to 
do  before  we  could  be  held  accotnitabk; '.-'  This  principle  of  Methodism,  pub- 
h'shed  '  by  order  of  the  General  Conference,*  aside  from  some  monstrous 
absurdities  connected  with  it,  which  will  be  noticed  hereafter,  either  subverts 
all  true  notions  of  grace,  or  leaves  man  an  unaccountable  being.  If  God 
was  bound  to  give  us  a  Saviour,  and  through  him  our  liberty  of  will,  there 
was  no  room  for  grace  in  his  fullilling  that  obligation." 

The  same  fallacy  pervades  this  statement  that  we  have  pointed 
out  in  the  former.  Were  God  bound,  by  any  merit  in  man,  to 
restore  freedom  of  will  and  moral  power  to  man,  there  would  be  no 
grace  in  the  act.  But  God  may  be  bound  by  the  perfections  of  his 
own  character,  and  in  accordance  with  the  scheme  of  human  salva- 
tion which  he,  in  his  infinite  goodness,  has  devised  and  announced,  to 
do  many  things  for  man,  which,  so  far  as  the  recipient  is  concerned, 
are  pure  acts  of  grace.  For  the  sense  in  which  Mr.  Wesley  declares 
that  Adam  lost  his  free  will  by  the  fall,  let  us  look  at  the  context, 
which  our  reviewer  again,  with  his  usual  adroitness,  fails  to  cite. 
On  page  lO'j  Mr.  ^Vc5ky  L-ays,  "  1  do  not  hold  that  any  nun  ha.-i 
any  tvill  or  poivcr  of  himself  to  do  anything  that  is  good.''  This 
passage  indicates  the  true  sense  of  the  one  cited  (in  part)  by  the 
reviewer,  and  which  we  now  give  at  length  :  "  We  believe  that  in  the 
moment  Adam  fell,  he  had  no  freedom  of  will  left ;  but  that  God, 
when  of  his  own  free  grace  he  gave  the  promise  of  a  Saviour  to 
him  and  his  posterity,  graciously  restored  to  mankind  a  liberty 
and  power  to  accept  of  profl^rcd  salvation.  And  in  all  this,  man's 
boasting  is  excluded  ;  the  whole  of  that  which  is  good  in  him.  even 
from  the  first  moment  of  his  fall,  being  of  grace  and  not  of  nature." 

Here  Mr.  Wesley's  meaning  is  plain.     The  free  will  which  is 


1856.]     Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.  263 

restored  to  man  by  grace,  includes  "  a  liberty  and  power  to  accept 
of  proffered  sulvatiou" — "  a  will  and  power  to  good."  If  the  Prince- 
ton writer  means  anything,  iu  opposition  to  ]\Ir.  Wesley,  he  means 
that  man  "  has  this  power  by  nature ;"  and  that  man  has  the  will 
and  power  of  himself,  a'nJ  apart  from  the  grace  of  God.  to  do  good. 
This  new  Princeton  writer  may  consider  this  Calvinism;  the  old 
books  would  call  it  Pelagianism.  But  with  what  a  wretched  grace 
does  all  this  talk  about  free  will  come  from  a  man  who  professes  to  be 
a  Calvinist,  and  who,  therefore,  rcall//  holds  to  no  free  will  at  all,  with 
or  without  Divine  assistance  !  V/c  subjoin,  in  the  note,  a  number  of 
citations,  showing  that  divines  of  every  school,  and  of  every  age, 
teach  precisely  the  doctrine  as  to  the  power  of  Adam's  will  to  do 
good  after  the  fall,  which  the  re\'iewer  calls,  when  taught  by  jMr. 
Wesley,  a  doctrine  "subversive  of  grace."* 

Had  the  reviewer  really  desired  to  show  his  readers  Mr.  Wesley's 
doctrine  of  divine  grace,  he  might  have  gone  just  ten  pages  further 
in  the  "Doctrinal  Tracts,"  and  found  the  following:  "It  [grace]  is 
free  in  all  to  whom  it  is  given.  It  does  not  depend  on  any  power  or 
merit  in  man:  no,  not  in  any  degree;  neither  iu  whole  nor  in  part. 
It  does  not  in  any  wise  depend  either  on  the  good  works  or  right- 
eousness of  the  receiver :  not  on  anything  he  has  done,  nor  anything 
he  is.  It  does  not  depend  on  his  endeavours.  It  docs  not  depend 
on  his  good  tempers,  or  good  desires,  or  good  purposes  and  inten- 
tions. For  all  these  flow  from  the  free  grace  of  God :  they  are 
the  streams  only,  not  the  fountain.  Tiicy  are  the  fruits  of  the  free 
grace,  and  not  the  root.  They  arc  not  the  cause,  but  the  effects  of 
it.     Whatsoever  good  is  in  man,  or  done  by  man,  God  is  the  author 

°  Auginiine :  Pcccato  Adcc  libcrum  arbitrlutu  dc  hominum  natura  periissc  non 
dicifhus,  sed  ad  pcccandum  valere,  in  hominibus  diabolo  subditis,  ad  bene  autcra 
pieque  vivcndum  non  valere  .  .  .  Arbitrium  lib.  ad  malum  sufficit,  ad  bonum 
autem  nihil  est,  nisi  adjuvatur.  Peter  Lombard:  Ipsa  gratia  voluntatera  pras- 
venit  pneparando.  ut  velit  bonuui,  ct  pnep.aratam  adjuvat,  ut  perficiat .  .  .  . 
Corrupta  est  libcrtas  arbitrii  per  poccatuin,  el  c.\  pane  perdita  .  .  Gratia  sanat 
et  liberal  voluntatem.  Aquinas :  Libcrum  arbitrium  ad  Dcum  converti  non 
potest,  nisi  Deo  ipsum  ad  se  convcrtcnto.  Con/.  Au:;s. :  De  lib.  arbit.  decent 
quod  humana  voluntas  .  .  .  non  habct  viin  sine  ."^piritu  Sancto  efliciendit!  justi- 
tiaeDei  seu  spirituali.^.  Form.  Concord.  :  In  rebus  spiritualibus  homo  est  instar 
etatuae  sails,  &c.  Conf.  Heluet.  :  IntcUcctus  obscuratus  est ;  voluntas,  ex  libera, 
facta  est  serva.  Calvin:  "Surrounded  on  every  side  with  the  mo.^^t  miserable 
necessity,  he  [man]  should  nevertheless  be  in.structed  to  aspire  to  the  good  of 
which  he  is  destitute,  and  to  the  Hbcrty  of  which  lie  is  deprived  .  .  .  Man  has 
not  an  equally  free  election  of  ;;ood  and  evil,  and  can  only  be  said  to  have 
free  will,  because  he  does  evil  voluntarily  and  not  by  constraint."  We  are  not 
concerned  to  show  that  these  writers  and  creeds  are  consistent  with  thcmselvea 
throughout  n 


264  Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.      [April, 

and  doer  of  it.  Thus  is  his  grace  free  in  all,  that  is,  no  -way  depend- 
ing on  any  po^ver  or  merit  in  man;  but  on  God  alone,  ^vho  freely 
gave  U3  his  own  Son,  and  icitli  him  frcchj  givelh  vs  all  things.'^ 

Or  had  he  chosen  to  go  to  Arminius  himself  to  find  out  the  Ar- 
minian  doctrine  of  grace,  he  might  have  cited  the  following : 
"  Conceniing  grace  and  free  will,  this  is  what  I  teach,  according  to 
the  Scriptures  and  orthodox  consent :  Free  will  is  unable  to  begin 
or  to  perfect  any  true  and  spiritual  good  without  grace.  That  I  may 
not  be  said,  like  Telagius,  to  practise  delusion  with  regard  to  the 
•word  '  grace,'  1  mean  by  it  that  which  is  the  grace  of  Christ  and 
which  belongs  to  regeneration.  I  affirm,  therefore,  that  this  grace 
is  simply  and  absolutely  necessary  for  the  illumination  of  the  mind, 
the  due  ordering  of  the  affections,  and  the  inclination  of  the  will  to 
that  which  is  good.  It  is  this  grace  which  operates  on  the  mind,  the 
affections,  and  the  will;  which  infuses  good  thoughts  into  the  mind, 
inspires  good  desires  into  the  affections,  and  bends  the  will  to  carry 
into  execution  good  thoughts  and  good  desires.  This  grace 
[prceve?u(']  goes  before,  accompanies,  and  follows ;  it  excites,  assists, 
operates  that  we  will,  and  cooperates  lest  we  will  in  vain.  It  averts 
temptations,  assists  and  grants  succour  in  the  midst  of  temptations, 
Bustains  man  against  the  flesh,  the  world,  and  Satan,  and  in  this 
great  contest  grants  to  man  the  enjoyment  of  the  victory.  It  raises 
up  again  those  who  are  conquered  and  have  fallen,  establishes  and 
supplies  them  W"ith  new  strength,  and  renders  them  more  cautious. 
Tills  grace  commences  salvation,  promotes  it,  and  perfects  and 
consummates  it.  1  confess  that  the  mind  of  [onrm«//s]  a  natural 
and  carnal  man  is  obscure  and  dark,  that  his  affections  are  corrupt  and 
inordinate,  that  his  will  is  stubborn  and  disobedient,  and  that  the  man 
himself  is  dead  in  sins.  And  I  add  to  this — that  teacher  obtains 
my  highest  approbation  who  ascribes  as  much  as  possible  to  Divine 
grace,  provided  he  so  pleads  the  cause  of  grace  as  not  to  inflict  an 
injury  on  the  justice  of  God,  and  not  to  take  away  the  free  ivill  to 
that  whichis  rril." — Writings  ofAnninius  (Bagnall)  vol.  ii,  p.  47'2. 

The  "  third  proof  that  Arminianism  subverts  grace,  is  taken  from 
Watson's  Theological  Institutes." 

"  He  tcaclics  very  distinctly  (and  correctly,  we  may  add)  that  in  tlie  fall  of 
Adam,  all  men  bocamc  liable  to  bodily,  spiritual,  and  eternal  death.  But 
mark  the  ground  on  which  he  defends  this  transaction  against  the  charge  of 
injustice.  "  '  In  all  this  it  is  impossible  to  im])cach  the  equity  of  the  Divine  pro- 
cedure, since  no  man  suffers  any  loss  or  injury  ultimately  by  the  sin  of  Adam, 
but  by  his  own  wilful  obstina''y ;  the  abounding  of  grace  having  placed  betbre 
all  men,  upon  their  believing,  not  merely  compensation  for  the  loss  and  injury 
sustained  by  Adam,  but  infinitely  higher  blessings  both  in  kind  and  degree, 
than  were  i'orftjitcd  in  him.  .  .  .  A.s  to  adults,  then,  the  objection  from  Divine 
justice  is  unsupported.'      But  why  is  it  unsupported  ?      Tjecause  there  is  a 


1856.]     Princeton  Revieio  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.  265 

chance  to  escape  these  dreadful  consequences.  It  vrould  have  been  unjust  if 
there  were  not  this  chance,  but  since  they  liave  it,  therefore  it  was  just  in  God 
to  visit  them  with  death  temporal  and  spiritual,  and  witli  exposure  to  death 
eternal  for  the  sin  of  Adam  ! 

"  P)Ut  if  this  be  the  ground  on  which  the  justice  of  that  transaction  is  to  be 
defended,  where,  we  a.-k,  is  the  grace  of  s-.Ivation  ?  Is  it  an  act  of  crrace  in 
God  to  do  what  justice  demanded  ?  Can  there  be  any  favor  in  providing  sal- 
vation, if  the  provision  of  it  was  necessary  t.j  vindicate'  (ami,  according  to  this 
writer, Js  the  only  thing  which  does  vindicate)  divine  justice  ?  Surelv^it  is  not 
grace  for  God  to  vindicate  his  own  honour.  Here,  a^ain,  is  evidence  that 
Arminianism  subverts  grace.  God  w;is  bouml  to  make  tlio  provision,  or  ho. 
would  have  been  liable  to  the  charge  of  injustice  in  pcrmittln-T  us  to  be  ruined 
by  the  fall."  ^ 

It  ^vill  be  sufficient  reply  to  this  to  cite  the  entire  passage  from 
Mr.  Watson,  {Institutes,  vol.  ii,  pp.  50,  57  :)  "  The  objections  ^vhich 
have  been  raised  against  the  imputation  of  Adam's  offence,  in  the 
extent  ■vre  have  stated  it,  on  the  ground  of  the  justice  of  the  proceed- 
ing, are  of  two  kinds.  The  former  are  levelled,  not  against  that 
Scriptural  view  of  the  case  which  has  just  been  exhibited,  but 
against  that  repulsive  and  shocking  perversion  of  it  which  is  found 
in  the  high  Calvinistic  creed,  which  consigns  infants,  not  elect,  to 
a  conscious  and  endless  punishment,  and  that  not  of  loss  onlv,  but  of 
pain,  for  this  first  offence  of  another.  The  latter  springs  from  rc'-^ard- 
ing  the  legal  part  of  the  whole  transaction  which  affected  our  first 
parents  and  their  posterity  separately  from  the  evangelical  provision 
of  mercy  which  was  concurrent  with  it,  and  which  included,  in  like 
manner,  both  them  and  their  whole  race.  With  the  high  Calvinistic 
view  we  have  noticing  to  do.  It  will  stand  or  fill  with  the  doctrines 
of  election  and  reprobation,  as  held  by  that  school,  and  these  will  be 
examined  in  their  place.  The  latter  class  of  objections  now  claim 
our  attention  ;  and  as  to  them  we  observe,  that,  us  the  question  relates 
to  the  moral  government  of  God,  if  one  jiart  of  the  transaction  before 
us  is  intimately  and  inseparably  connected  with  another  and  collat- 
eral procedure,  it  cannot  certainly  be  viewed  in  its  true  light  but  in 
that  connexion.  The  redemption  of  man  by  Christ  was  not  certainly 
an  afterthought  brought  in  upon  man's  ap.jita.sy ;  it  was  s.  provision, 
and  when  man  fell,  he  found  justice  hand  in  hand  with  mercy 
What  are  then  the  facts  of  the  irhulc  case?  For  greater  clearness, 
let  us  take  Adam  and  the  case  of  his  adult  descendants  first.  All 
become  liable  to  bodily  death;  here  was  justice,  the  end  of  which  is 
to  support  law,  as  that  supports  government.  I3y  means  of  the 
anticipated  sacrifice  of  the  Redeemer's  atonement,  which,  as  we 
shall  in  its  place  show,  is  an  effectual  means  of  declaring  the  justice 
of  God,  the  sentence  is  reversed,  not  by  exemption  from  bodily  death, 
but  by  a  happy  and  glorious  resurrection.  For,  as  this  was  an  act 
of  grace,  Almighty  God  was  free  to  choose,  speaking  humanly,  the 

FouRTu  Series.  Vol.  YIII.— 17 


266  Princeton  Review  on  Arminicudsyn  and  Grace.      [April, 

circumstances  under  T\-liich  it  should  bo  administered,  in  ordering 
which  the  unerrin;^  wisdom  of  God  had  its  natural  influence.  The 
evil  of  sin  Avas  still  to  be  kept  visible  before  the  universe,  for  its 
admonition,  by  the  actual  infliction  of  death  upon  all  men ;  the  grace 
■was  to  be  manifested  in  reparation  of  the  loss  by  restoration  to 
immortality.  Again,  God,  the  fountain  of  spiritual  life,  forsook  the 
soul  of  A-dam,  now  polluted  by  sin,  and  unfit  for  his  residence.  He 
became  morally  dead  and  corrupt,  and,  as  '  that  which  is  born  of  the 
flesh  is  flesh,"  this  is  the  natural  state  of  his  descendants.  Here  was 
justice,  a  display  of  the  evil  of  sin,  and  of  the  penalty  which  it  ever 
immediately  induces — man  forsaken  by  God,  and  thus  forsaken,  a 
picture  to  the  whole  universe  of  corruption  and  misery,  resulting 
from  that  departure  from  him  which  is  implied  in  one  sinful  act. 
But  that  spiritual,  quickening  influence  visits  him  from  another 
quarter  and  through  other  means.  The  second  Adam  '  is  a  quicken- 
ing spirit.'  The  Holy  Spirit  is  the  purchase  of  his  redemption,  to 
be  given  to  man,  that  he  may  again  infuse  into  his  corrupted  nature  the 
heavenly  life,  and  sanctify  and  regenerate  it.  Here  is  the  mercy. 
As  to  a  future  state,  eternal  life  is  promised  to  all  men  believing  in 
Christ,  which  reverses  the  sentence  of  eternal  death.  Here,  again,  is 
the  manifestation  of  mere}'.  Should  this  be  rejected,  he  stands 
liable  to  the  whole  penalty:  to  the  punishment  of  loss  as  the  natural 
consequence  of  his  corrupted  nature  which  renders  him  unfit  for 
heaven  ;  to  the  punishment  of  even  pain  for  the  original  offence,  we 
may  also,  without  injustice,  say,  as  to  an  adult,  whose  actual  trans- 
gression, when  the  means  of  deliverance  has  been  afforded  him  by 
Christ,  is  a  consenting  to  all  rebellion  against  God,  and  to  that  of 
Adam  himself;  and  to  the  penalty  of  his  own  actual  transgressions, 
aggravated  by  his  having  made  light  of  the  Gospel.  Here  is  the 
collateral  display  of  justice.  In  all  this  it  is  impossible  to  impeach 
the  equity  of  the  Divine  procedui-e,  since  no  man  suffers  any  loss  or 
injury  ultimately  by  the  sin  of  Adam,  but  by  his  own  wilful  obstinacy ; 
the  'abounding  of  grace.'  by  Christ,  having  placed  before  all  men, 
upon  their  believing,  not  merely  compensation  for  the  loss  and  injury 
sustained  by  Adam,  but  infinitely  higher  blessings,  both  in  kind  and 
degree,  than  were  forfeited  in  him.  As  to  adults,  then,  the  objection 
taken  from  Divine  justice  is  unsupported." 

The  "fourth  proof"  is  found  by  collating  the  eighth  Article  of 
Religion  of  the  ■NI.  E.  Church  with  a  passage  from  Watson's  Insti- 
tutes (vol.  ii.  p.  3 11 :) 

"  Now  put  these  declarations  toirether,  and  -what  do  they  tcaob  ?  The  first 
affirms,  'he  cannot  turn  and  prepare  himsflt"  to  faith  and  calling  upon  God 
...  we  Lave  no  power  to  do  good  works.'      It  Mould  be  utterly  iinj)05sible  for 


1856.]    •  Princeton  Review  oji  Arminianism.  and  Grace.  267 

as  then  to  perform  them,  '  under  any  circumstances  that  we  could  possibly 
avail  ourselves  of,'  without  the  Gospel.  But  the  second  says,  'it  would  be 
most  contrary  to  justice  and  right"  to  punish  men  for  deeds  committed  in  such 
circumstances.  Then  it  follows,  that  without  the  provision  and  help  of  the 
Gospel  we  would  have  been  unacL-ountable  beings — it  would  have  been  most 
contrary  to  justice  and  right  for  the  Almighty  to  have  jiunished  us  for  our 
improper  conduct — in  order  to  hold  us  aceountalile  justlv,  he  mu^t  provide 
and  otfer  salvation,  and  give  strength  to  accept  it.  Tliis  is  the  position  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  of  Arminians  generally.  AVhere  then,  we 
ask  again,  is  the  grace  of  the  Gospel  ?  According  to  these'  statements,  it  would 
have  been  unjust  In  God  to  have  held  men  rcs])0!!sib!e  withdut  it.  It  is, 
therefore,  simply  an  arrangement  of  justice  and  necessity  without  which  the 
Lord  could  have  exercised  no  moral  government  over  men.  Thus,  acrain.  is 
grace  overthrown  just  as  certainly  as  by  "Wesley's  bold  assertion,  that  God 
could  not  justly  have  passed  by  all  men." 

Let  our  readers  remember  that  Mr.  Watson  is  treating  of  the 
"  absolute  and  unconditional  reprobation"  of  all  but  a  select  portion 
of  mankind,  and  showing  its  incompatibility  with  the  divine  justice. 
We  enlarge  the  reviewer's  citation  somewhat :  "  Plere,  indeed,  we 
would  not  assume  to  measure  this  attribute  of  God  by  unauthorized 
human  conceptions ;  but  when  God  himself  has  appealed  to  those 
established  notions  of  justice  and  equit}-  which  have  been  received 
among  all  enlightened  persons,  in  all  ages,  as  the  measure  and  rule 
of  his  oAvn,  we  cannot  be  charged  Avith  this  presumption.  '  Shall 
not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  ri'^lit  7'  '  Arc  not  ray  ways  equal? 
saith  the  Lord.'  We  may  then  be  bold  to  ailirm,  that  justice  and 
equity  in  God  are  what  they  are  taken  to  bo  among  reasonable  men ; 
and  if  all  men  everywhere  would  condemn  it.  as  most  contrary  to 
justice  and  right,  that  a  sovereign  should  condemn  to  death  one  or 
more  of  his  subjects,  for  not  obeying  laws  Avhich  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  for  them,  under  any  circumstances  which  they  can  possi- 
bly avail  themselves  of,  to  obey,  and  much  more  the  greater  part  of 
his  subjects ;  and  to  require  them,  on  pain  of  aggravated  punish- 
ment, to  do  something  in  order  to  the  pardon  and  remission  of  their 
offences,  which  he  knows  they  cannot  do,  say  to  stop  the  tide  or  to 
remove  a  mountain  ;  it  implie,-  a  charge  as  awfully  and  obviously 
unjust  against  God,  who  is  so  '  holy  and  just  in  all  his  doings,'  so 
exactly  'just  in  the  judgments  which  ho  executeth,'  as  to  silence 
all  his  creatures,  to  suppose  him  to  act  precisely  in  the  same  manner 
as  to  those  whom  he  has  passed  by  and  rejected,  without  any  avoid- 
able fault  of  their  own ;  to  destroy  them  by  the  simple  rule  of  his 
own  sovereignty,  or,  in  other  words,  to  show  that  he  has  power  to  do 
it.  In  whatever  light  the  sul^jcct  be  viewed,  no  fault,  in  any  right 
construction,  can  be  chargeable  upon  the  persons  so  punisiied,  or,  as 
"we  may  rather  say,  dcstroijeJ,  since  punishment  supposes  a  judicial 
proceeding,  which  this  act  shuts  out.     For  either  the  reprobates  are 


268  Pnnceton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.     [April, 

destroyed  for  a  pure  reason  of  sotercignty,  without  any  reference  to 
their  sinfulness,  and  thus  all  criminality  is  left  out  of  the  consider- 
ation ;  or  they  are  destroyed  for  the  sin  of  x\dam,  to  which  they 
were  not  consenting ;  or  for  personal  faults  resulting  from  a  cor- 
ruption of  nature  which  they  brought  into  the  world  with  them,  and 
which  God  wills  not  to  correct,  and  they  have  no  power  to  correct 
themselves.  Every  received  notion  of  justice  is  thus  violated." — 
{Watson,  vol.  ii,  pp.  341,  34i!.) 

Put  the  Princeton  v.rituv's  doctrine  beside  Mr.  ^Vatson's,  and  see 
which  more  magnifies  the  grace  of  God.  The  former  holds,  in  effect, 
that  God  displays  his  mercy  in  saving  a  portion  of  mankind  by  irre- 
sistible grace,  and  in  "  destroying  the  rest  by  the  simple  rule  of  his 
own  sovereignty."  The  doctrine  of  the  latter  is  that  God,  of  his 
boundless  philanthropy,  {<■/)/ Aai'Opforrm,  Tit.  iii,  4,)  provides  means  for 
the  salvation  of  the  whole  human  race,  gives  grace  to  enable  each 
man  to  appropriate  that  salvation  to  himself,  and  destroys  none 
but  those  who  wilfully  refuse  that  gi-ace.  The  former,  in  its  fatal- 
istic elements,  is  as  much  the  doctrine  of  Mohammed  as  of  Christ ;  the 
latter  is  the  very  "  grace  of  the  Gospel." 

Our  space  will  not  allow  us  to  quote  the  remaining  so-called 
"proofs"  at  length;  nor,  indeed,  is  it  necessarj',  qs  the  same  fallacy 
(viz.,  that  of  opposing  grace  to  God's  justice,  not  to  man's  desert,) 
runs  through  them  all.  The  fifth  "proof"  is,  in  substance,  that 
Arminians  "subvert  grace"  by  asserting  that  "election"  makes  God 
unjust.  No  Arminlan  has  ever  asserted  that  election  makes  God 
unjust;  but  both  Arminianism  and  Scripture  assert  that  for  God  to 
bring  the  human  race  into  the  v.orld  incapable  of  doing  his  Avill, 
and  then  to  save  some  unconditionally,  and  to  damn  the  rest  for 
failing  to  do  what  they  never  can  do,  Avould  have  been  utterly  in- 
consistent with  his  character  as  revealed  by  himself  And,  in  the 
economy  of  the  Gospel,  Arminians  contend,  the  justice  of  God  and 
his  grace  go  hand  in  hand. 

The  last  "proof"  is,  in  brit'f,  that  "Arminianism  subverts  grace 
by  making  man  able  either  to  dispense  with  it  altogether,  or  supe- 
rior to  its  most  potent  influences."  The  amount  of  this  is,  that  the 
reviewer  can  conceive  of  no  divine  grace,  or  "  favour,"  that  is  not 
irresistible.  What  lamentable  confusions  of  ideas  is  here!  It  is 
no  "grace"  to  bestow  upon  man  the  power  to  obey  God,  simply 
because  it  is  "just"  in  God  to  bestow  it ;  it  is  no  "grace"  to  "  work  in 
man  to  will  and  to  do,"  simply  because  man  can,  if  he  chooses, 
refuse  to  "  work  out  his  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."* 

**  "To  jump  into  fatalism  lest  we  shoulil  bo  proud  of  our  free  will,  is  not  less 
absurd  thau  to  prostrate  ourselves  before  a  traitor  lest  we  should  uot  honour  the 


1856.]      Princeton  Review  on  Arminianism  and  Grace.  269 

Had  the  apostle  any  meaning  when  he  besought  the  Corinthians 
not  to  "receive  the  grace  of  God  in  vain?"  Was  there  ever  (to 
quote  the  language  of  the  Princeton  lleview)  a  more  "remarkable 
instance  of  persons  self-deceived  and  full  of  self-complacency  in 
their  delusion  ?'' 

But  "  the  mind  tires  and  grows  sick"  in  dwelling  upon  the  won- 
derful theology  and  baseless  metaphysics  of  the  writer,  who,  by  some 
strango  accident,  has  been  permitted  to  dis[)lay  his  want  of  knowl- 
edge and  of  charity  in  the  pages  of  the  Princeton  Review.  With 
our  friends  of  the  Calvinistic  Churches  we  wish  to  have  no  quarrel. 
We  gladly  and  joyfully  recognize  them  as  fellow  Christians.  lu 
the  language  of  Mr.  Watson,  "  the  fact  of  conversions  from  sin  to 
holiness  being  wrought,  by  God's  blessing  upon  the  labours  of 
divines  and  preachers  of  each  class,  (Calvinistic  and  Arminian,) 
shows  that  he  employs  that  truth  in  which  they  agree,  rather  than 
the  pomts  in  which  they  differ,  as  the  instrument  of  conveying  salva- 
tion to  man."*  At  the  same  time,  we  believe  that  Calvinism,  in  its 
distinguishins:  features,  is  a  very  mischievous  corruption  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  that  it  is  quite  easy  to  prove  it  such.  We  believe  that 
it  originated,  not  in  the  Apostolic  age,  not  in  the  Church  of  the  first 
three  centuries,  but  in  "the  sophistries  of  that  corrupt  pagan  philos- 
ophy which  imbued  the  early  thoughts  of  Augustine,  and  ^vhich  he 
brought  into  the  Christian  Church."  It  teaches  that  "  God  imposed 
upon  Adam  a  necessity  of  falling ;  and  made  it  the  very  end  of 
the  creation  of  the  human  race,  that  God  might  show  his  mercy,  or 
rather  his  mere  will,  in  electing  some  of  them,  without  respect  to 
their  faith  and  obedience,  unto  eternal  life;  and  his  justice,  in  reject- 
ing all  the  rest,  and  punishing  them"  for  transgressions,  not  only 
unavoidable,  but  committed  under  the  pressure  of  a  moral  and 
invincible  necessity.  And  in  teaching  this,  it  destroys  at  once  the 
moral  attributes  of  God  and  the  free  agency  of  man.  The  writer 
in  the  Princeton  Review  says  that  ho  has  hardly  in  his  whole  life 
heard  from  Presbyterians  "  more  than  half  a  dozen  formal  discourses 
on  any  distinguishing  doctrine  of  Calvinism,"  and  we  can  well 
believe  him.  It  is  not  by  such  preaching  that  men  are  converted, 
and  our  contemporary  knows  it. 

king,  and  to  run  into  a  house  of  ill   fame  lest    tvc   should  bo  proud  of   our 
cihR.s\.Mj."— Fletcher,  Works,  i,  oOl. 
°  Watson's  Works,  (London,)  vii,  478. 


270       English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.    [April, 


Art.  \a— ENGLISH  UNIVERSITY  LIFE  AND  UNIVERSITY 
REFORM.  -^  ,    :        ^-, 

In  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half  the  express  train  -whirled  us  over  a 
distance  of  sixty-three  miles  from  London  to  Oxford.  As  -we  v,alked 
through  the  streets,  and  looked  at  the  withered  college  avails  and  silent 
cloisters,  the  black  gowns  and  square  caps  of  the  passing  students, 
the  strange  mixture  of  scholastic,  clerical,  and  monastic  life,  it 
appeared  to  us  that  we  had  made  a  still  greater  backward  journey 
over  the  road  of  time  from  the  nineteenth  century  to  the  midd'e 
ages.  The  change  is  almost  as  great  as  that  betw'een  Naples  and 
Pompeii.  And  yet,  though  some  hundred  years  older,  we  felt 
renewed  and  refreshed  by  the  green  meadows  and  the  literary 
atmosphere.  On  our  first  visit  to  the  celebrated  university,  some 
ten  years  before,  we  had  to  make  a  part  of  the  journey  by  coach. 
The  completion  of  the  railroad,  although  it  passes  some  distance 
from  the  town,  seems  to  be  almost  a  desecration  of  the  Pluses. 
But  it  makes  the  contrast  between  the  noise  of  the  monster  city  of 
commerce  and  the  quiet  of  the  peaceful  retreat  of  learning,  between 
the  prose  of  business  and  the  poetry  of  study,  between  the  stir  of 
the  present  and  the  charm  of  the  past,  only  more  striking.  In  the 
teeming  life  of  the  metropolis  you  feel  lost  like  a  drop  in  the  ocean; 
in  the  University  town  you  regain  your  self-possession,  the  conscious- 
ness of  your  individuality  and  freedom. 

Oxford  is  emphatically  one  of  the  old  things  of  England;  a  ven- 
erable relic  of  the  past,  and  a  strong  conservative  power  of  the 
present  age ;  the  green-house  of  High  Churchism  in  religion  and  High 
Toryism  in  politics  ;  the  nursery  of  the  episcopacy  and  aristocracy 
of  Great  Britain.  The  very  lions  at  its  gates  bristle  at  the  approach 
of  a  liberal  and  a  dissenter.  And  yet  we  doubt  whether  even  a  Puri- 
tan from  New-England  can  visit  its  ancient  halls  and  chapels,  the 
treasures  of  the  Bodleian  and  Badcliff  libraries,  the  noble  monuments 
of  the  martji-  reformers,  the  verdant  fields  and  stately  trees  on  tlie 
banks  of  the  youthful  Thames,  and  mingle  with  the  literary  society, 
which  rules  there  supreme,  without  the  deepest  interest  and  the 
most  agreeable  impressions.  We  have  enjoyed  the  full  benefit  of 
English  hospitality  from  heads  of  houses,  professors,  fellows,  and  stu- 
dents, and  arc  free  to  confess,  that  memory  shall  ever  number  the  few 
weeks  spent  in  this  ancient  scat  of  k-arning,  among  the  most  pleasant 
as  well  as  the  most  profitable  recollections  of  good  old  England. 

Oxford  is  the  birthplace  of  Puseyism,  which  since  1^33  has  exerted 
such  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  whole  Church  of  England.     So 


1856.]    English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.        271 

closely  is  the  place  identified  with  this  movement,  that  Puseyism  and 
Oxfordism,  or  the  Oxford  school,  have  almost  become  synonymous 
terms.  Dr.  Pusey,  Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Canon  of  Christ  Church 
College,  although  destitute  of  popular  talents,  a  retired  student,  of 
austere,  almost  monkish  habits,  is  generally  respected  and  even 
popular  there,  as  the  principal  originator  of  a  theolugical  and  eccle- 
siastical movement  which  gave  new  importance  and  celebrity  to  the 
University,  and  seems  to  have  grown  out  naturally  of  its  medireval 
and  Anglican  traditions,  and  to  be  well  adapted  to  su]»port  the  ancient 
institutions  and  established  order  of  the  country.  But  it  is  far 
more  the  Anglican  than  the  Romanizing  feature  of  that  system 
which  has  taken  root  in  Oxford.  The  majority  sympathize  with, 
or  acquiesce  in,  High  Church  views  on  episcopacy,  apostolical 
succession,  liturgical  worship,  the  sacraments,  etc.,  but,  with  all  this. 
they  hate  Romanism  as  heartily  as  dissent,  and  have  not  the  most 
distant  idea  of  ever  leaving  the  Church  of  England.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  Pusey  himself  will  die  a  son  of  the  Establishment. 
He  is  satisfied  with  the  system  of  Anglicanism,  and  has  very  little 
interest  in  anything  that  goes  beyond  it.  ^Ve  made  some  inquiry 
as  to  the  effect  which  the  apostasy  of  so  many  distinguished  Oxford 
men  had  upon  their  former  associates  and  co-labourers.  Some,  no 
dcubt,  must  feel  very  uneasy  at  results  which  they  neither  foresaw 
nor  desired.  Others  regard  them  as  a  transitory  crisis,  which  is 
nearly  over,  and  attribute  the  conversions,  or  "  perversions,"  as  they 
call  them,  more  to  the  restless  spirit  and  peculiar  temperament  of 
the  individuals  in  question,  than  to  the  consequences  of  their  prin- 
ciples. They  are  ^Nilling  to  admit  the  defects  of  Anglicanism  and 
the  force  of  some  of  the  arguments  urged  against  them  by  their 
former  friends ;  but  they  console  themselves  by  the  fact,  that 
there  is  no  perfection  in  the  Church  militant,  and  that  Romanism 
is  burdened  with  still  greater  difficulties  and  grievances.  They 
regard  especially  the  veneration  of  the  Virgin  ^lary  and  the  sad 
moral  condition  of  Roman  Catholic  cuuutiies,  as  Italy,  Spain,  Por- 
tugal, Ireland,  as  insuperable  objections  to  Popery. 

Besides  the  Puseyites,  and  the  numerous  old-fashioned  High 
Churchmen,  (the  high  and  dry,)  there  are  in  Oxford  a  few  disciples 
and  admirers  of  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold,  who  share  more  or  less  the 
liberal  opinions  of  the  Broad  Church  school.  They  make  up  for 
their  numerical  weakness  by  talent  and  learning.  At  first  they 
stood  in  strong  opposition  to  Puseyism,  but  the  heat  of  the  contro- 
versy has  long  passed  its  climax.  J  lad  Dr.  Arnold  laboured  longer 
in  Oxford,  as  Professor  of  History,  he  would  perhaps  have  exerted 
an  influence  not  so  strictly  theological,  but  as  strong  and  far-reaching 


272        English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.    [April, 

upon  the  rising  clcr5:y,  nobility,  and  gentry,  as  Dr.  Pusey.  His 
spirit  still  lives  tUere,  and  is  not  likely  to  die  so  soon.  The  reforms 
already  accomplished  iu  the  administration  of  the  University,  and 
others  still  in  contemplation,  will,  in  all  probability,  affect  in  the 
end  also  the  theology  Avhich  gives  the  leading  tone  to  that  great 
institution. 

The  University  of  Cambridge  represents  generally  the  other 
wing  of  the  State  and  Church  of  Phigland,  and  is  thus  a  necessary 
complement  to  its  older  and  more  powerful  sister.  There  Low 
Church  tendencies  have  had  the  ascendency  from  Cranmer  and 
Bucer  down  to  Goodc,  although  the  classics  and  mathematics  are 
far  more  studied  than  theology.  There  the  poet  Milton,  and  many 
of  the  leading  statesmen  and  orators  of  the  ^Vhig  party,  as  Babing- 
ton  Macaulay,  have  received  their  training. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  give  our  readers  an  idea  of  an  English 
imiversity  as  distinct  from  a  continental  university  and  from  our 
American  colleges,  and  of  the  reforms  which  have  for  years  been 
agitated,  and  which  were  partly  carried  by  the  Parliament  of  1854. 
We  shall  speak  with  special  reference  to  Oxford,  with  which  we  are 
more  familiar  than  with  Cambridge. 

The  English  Universities  present  a  singular  combination  of  the 
monastic  life  of  the  Catholic  middle  ages,  in  vfhich  they  originated, 
and  the  Protestant  habits  and  studies  of  modern  times;  and  in  point 
of  literary  organization,  they  exhibit  a  curious  mixture  of  the  tutorial 
or  college  system,  with  the  professorial  or  university  plan.  They 
occupy  thus  a  medium  position  between  a  continental  university 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  German 
gymnasium  or  American  college,  on  the  other.  They  attempt  to  be 
both  college  and  university,  but  without  doing  justice  to  the  lecture 
system  and  the  professorial  studies. 

As  Ptome  Avas  not  built  in  a  day,  so  the  English  Universities  are 
the  growth  of  ages.  They  go  back  to  the  thirteenth  century ;  a  few 
colleges  date  their  first  existence  even  from  the  times  of  Alfred  the 
Great.  The  number  of  colleges,  professorships,  fellowships,  scholar- 
ships, libraries,  prizes,  and  various  endowments,  gradually  increased, 
and  is  still  increasing  by  the  liberality  of  kings,  bishops,  noblemen, 
scholars,  and  other  friends  of  literature  and  the  Church.  Most  of 
the  older  endowments  were  more  prompted  by  religious  than  by 
literary  zeal,  and  were  intended  to  secure  the  benefit  of  prayers  for 
thedcpartcd  founders.  The  State,  at  the  Reformation,  took  them  away, 
abolished  masses  for  the  dead,  and  gave  them  to  Protestants,  on  the 
principle  that  man  is  only  the  life-tenant  of  his  property,  and  has  no 
right  to  legislate  for  future  generations,  except  for  their  benefit. 


1856.]    English  University  Life  and  Ujiiversiiy  Reform.        273 

Oxford  numbers  now  not  less  than  twenty-four  complete  literary 
institutions,  nineteen  colleges  and  five  halls,  each  possessing  its  sepa- 
rate buildings,  library,  corps  of  teachers,  and  students.  The  only  dif- 
ference between  them  is,  that  the  halls  are  not  incorporated;  conse- 
quently, whatever  estates  or  other  property  they  possess,  are  held  in 
trust  by  the  University^.  In  early  times,  when  there  were  but  few- 
colleges,  the  number  of  the  halls  Avas  very  large,  amounting  even  to 
over  two  hundred  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  We  will  here  enumer- 
ate these  institutions  of  Oxford  according  to  their  age,  as  given  by 
the  "University  Calendar."  From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
colleges  of  the  middle  ages  were  mostly  founded  and  endowed  by 
bishops,  those  after  the  Reformation  by  laymen,  a  fact  which  is  not 
very  creditable  to  the  liberality  of  Protestant  bishops  as  compared 
with  their  Catholic  predecessors. 

1.  Universitj  College,  founded  by  William,  Arclidtacon  of  Dxirham,  A.  D.  1249." 

2.  Balliol  College,  founded  by  John  Balliol,  of  Ikruard  Castle,  A.  D.  1263. 

3.  Merton  College,  founded  by  Walter  Mertou,  Bi::.hop  of  Rochester,  A.  D.  1274. 

4.  Exeter  College,  founded  by  Walter  do  Stapk-Jon,  Eiiliop  of  Exeter,  A.  D.  13U. 

5.  Oriel  College,  founded  by  Edward  11.,  A.  D.  132C. 

6.  Queen's  College,  founded  by  Robert  Egglcsficld,  confessor  to  the  queen  of 
Edward  IIL,  A.  D.  1340. 

7.  New  College,  founded  by  William  of  Wykehnm,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  A.  J). 
1386. 

8.  Lincoln  College,  founded  by  KichardFlemniing,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  A.  D.  1427. 

9.  All  Souls'  College,  founded  by  Henry  Chiohele,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
A.  D.  1437. 

10.  Magdalen  College,  founded  by  William  of  V,'aynfleet,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
A.  D.  1456. 

11.  Brascnose  College,  foxinded  by  William  Smith,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  and  Sir 
Eichard  Sutton,  A.  D.  1509. 

12.  Corpus  Christi  College,  founded  by  Bichard  Fox,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  A.  D. 
1616. 

13.  Christ  Church,  founded  by  Cardinal  AVolsey  and  Henry  VIIL,  A.  D.  1526, 

14.  Trinity  College,  founded  by  Sir  Thomas  Pope.  A.  D.  I.oo4. 

15.  St.  John's  College,  founded  by  Sir  Tliom;'.-  \Vhito.  A.  D.  15.55. 

16.  Jesus  College,  founded  by  Queen  Elizabeth.  A.  D.  1571. 

17.  Wadham  College,  founded  by  Nicholas  Wadham,  of  Merifield,  and  his  wife, 
A.  D.  1613. 

18.  Pembroke  College,  founded  by  Thomas  Tcsdale,  of  Glympton,  and  Richard 
Wightwick,  Rector  of  Ilsley,  A.  D.  1624. 

19.  Worcester  College,  founded  by  Sir  Thomas  Cookcs,  of  Bentley,  A.  D.  1714. 

20.  St.  Mary's  Hall.  21.  Magdalen  Hall.  22.  New  Inn  Hall.  23.  St.  Alban 
Hall.  24.  St.  Edmund  Hall,  (the  oldest  of  the  halls,  dating  iti  existence  from  the 
year  12G9.) 

»  It  is  said  to  have  been  founded  by  Alfre'l  the  Great,  in  the  year  872.  Bat 
the  Danish  invasion  destroyed  nearly  all  such  institutions. 


274       English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.     [April, 

Cambridge  LTuivcrsity  numbers  now  thirteen  colleges  and  four 
halls.  The  oldest  is  St.  Peter's  College,  1256;  the  youngest, 
Downing  College,  1S21. 

The  edifices  for  the  accommodation  of  the  masters,  fellows,  and 
students,  who  constitute  these  various  colleges,  are  of  diflerent  size 
and  architectural  design;  but  they  mostly  consist  of  several  large 
square  courts,  surrounded  with  uniform  ranges  of  building.  A  large 
gate  leads  to  the  outer  court,  and  is  watched  by  a  porter,  who  closes 
it  at  teu.  Each  student  has  two  small  rooms  and  a  pantry,  with  his 
name  affixed  on  the  door.  They  take  breakfast  in  their  apartment, 
but  dine  in  a  common  hall.  The  hall  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  is 
especially  interesting  for  its  size,  its  pictures  of  Cardinal  Wolsey 
and  of  various  benefactors  and  distinguished  graduates  of  the  col- 
lege, and  for  many  historical  recollections ;  for  instance,  the  feast 
given  there  by  George  IV.,  as  Prince  Regent,  to  Prince  Metternich 
and  iNIarshal  Blucherin  1814.  The  fellows  have,  besides,  a  "com- 
mon room,"  to  which  they  retire  with  their  guests  after  dinner  to 
partake  of  the  desert.  This  we  found  to  be  by  far  the  most  pleas- 
ant part  of  the  entertainment,  as  the  conversation  then  becomes 
more  animated,  rising  occasionally  to  a  "  feast  of  reason  and  flow  of 
soul."  Most  of  the  college  buildings  now  look  gray,  old,  and  ven- 
erable. They  are  scatterc'd  through  the  town,  several  of  them  con- 
tiguous to  each  other.  They  have  generally  a  large  library,  a  Gothic 
chapel,  and  gardens  and  walks  attached  to  them.  These  walks, 
or  picturesque  avenues  of  lofty  trees  amid  verdant  fields,  are 
admirably  calculated  to  promote  the  health  and  invite  the  medita- 
tion of  the  students,  especially  the  meadows  of  Christ  Church  and 
the  gardens  of  Magdalen  College.  "  There  is  something  bewitch- 
ing in  the  idea  of  dwelling  in  one  of  those  massive  piles  of  building, 
and  gliding  in  classic  costume  through  the  silent  courts  or  cloisters, 
strolling  along  the  magnificent  paths,  frequenting  the  splendid 
library,  and  being  suiTounded  with  all  possible  helps  and  stimulants 
to  ransack  the  arcana  of  science,  and  become  aa|uainted  with  man's 
and  nature's  deepest  mysteries." 

The  members  of  the  college  are  the  masters,  fellows,  and  students. 

The  masters,  also  called  heads  of  houses,  wardens,  rectors,  pro- 
vosts, principals,  presidents,  deans,  attend  to  the  government  and 
discipline,  and  reside  in  the  building  with  their  families. 

The  fellows  are  graduates  who  have  distinguished  themselves 
more  or  less,  or  who  owe  their  preferment  to  favouritism.  From 
these  are  chosen  the  tutors,  Avho  do  most  of  the  active  teaching.  But 
a  great  many  fellows  are  literary  idlers,  who  enjoy  the  benefits, 
amounting  in  some  cases  to  one  or  two  thousand  dollars  per  annum, 


1856.]     English  Universitij  Life  and  University  Reform.       275 

without  returning  any  service  whatever  to  the  college  or  the  com- 
munity at  large.  They  must  be  unmarried ;  some  retain  this  post 
for  life,  others  vacate  it  by  taking  a  wife,  and  succeeding  to  some 
clerical  benefice  or  mastership.  The  fellowships  were  originally 
founded  for  the  promotion  of  literary  and  scientific  researches,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  greatest  evils  complained  of,  that  so  many  have  be- 
come mere  sinecures. 

The  students  are  from  si.xteen  to  thirty  ycai-s  old.  Tliey  receive 
.most  of  the  instruction  from  the  fellows  of  their  college,  and  some 
from  the  public  lectures  of  the  University  professors.  Many  employ 
the  help  of  a  private  tutor,  or  "  coach."  They  are  required  to 
attend  recitations,  the  daily  service  in  the  chapel,  (on  Sunday 
twice,)  and  to  be  at  dinner.  At  ten  o'clock  they  must  be  in  their 
rooms.  For  every  hour  after  ten  they  arc  fined ;  and  if  they  are 
out  till  after  midnight,  they  are  called  up  to  give  an  account;  and 
in  cases  of  repeated  offence,  they  subject  themselves  to  a  severe 
reprimand  by  the  dean.  Besides  attendance  at  lecture,  prayer,  and 
dinner,  they  are  masters  of  their  time.  Tlie  earnest  students,  of 
"course,  employ  it  well,  and  strive  after  literary  honours  and  distinc- 
tions. He  -who  stands  the  best  examination  is  called  the  "  Senior 
Wrangler,"  the  first  man  of  his  year,  and  has  easy  access  to  all  aca- 
demical places  and  emoluments.  IStext  to  wranglers  come  the  "  Se- 
nior Optimes,"  and  then  the  "Junior  Optimt'S."  A  competitor  for 
honours  who  falls  short  of  these  is  "  gulfed,"  or  declared  unfit  for 
honours  :  but  he  may  try  for  the  common  degree  of  I>.  A.,  along 
with  the  multitude,  called  "poll,"  (from  the  Greek  ;vo//o/.)  If  they 
fail  to  come  up  to  these  requirements,  ihoy  are  "plucked;"  but  if 
they  "read  hard,"  with  the  aid  of  their  "coach,"  they  may  come 
up  for  a  post  mortori  examination,  held  a  few  weeks  afterward 
There  are  not  a  few  who  care  nothing  about  an  education,  but  waste 
their  time  in  day  sports  and  night  revelries,  and  ruin  their  health 
and  fortune  before  they  manage  to  get  the  first  degree,  if  they  get 
it  at  all.  The  "fellow-commoners"  are  students  of  wealth  and 
rank,  able  to  pay  more  for  their  education  than  the  rest,  furnished 
with  superior  accommodations,  and  entitled  to  wear  gold  or  silver 
trimmings  on  their  gowns  and  caps.  The  expenses  generally,  how- 
ever, are  much  higher  than  in  America.  Several  Oxford  students 
told  us,  that  board  and  tuition  alone  cost  .I'lOO,  and  the  additional 
expenses  vary  from  £50  to  £100,  which  would  make  nearly  $1,000 
per  annum  I 

These  different  colleges  and  halls  together  constitute  the  University, 
a  literary  commonwealth,  governed  by  its  own  laws.  The  highest 
officers  are  the  chancellor,  (now  the  l-url  of  Derby  for  Oxford,  and 


276       English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.     [April, 

Prince  Albert  for  Cambridge,)  the  high  steward,  the  vice-chancellor, 
the  pro-vice-chancellors,  the  burgesses,  the  deputy  steward,  the  proc- 
tors, the  pro-proctors,  and  the  heads  of  colleges  and  halls.  The  whole 
business  of  the  University,  in  its  corporate  capacit}-,  is  transacted  in 
two  distinct  assemblies,  the  House  of  Congregation,  which  consists 
wholly  of  regents,  that  is,  all  doctors  of  every  faculty  resident  in  the 
University,  rectors,  professors,  public  lecturers,  and  examiners ;  and 
the  House  of  Convocation,  or  the  Great  Congregation,  which 
includes  regents  and  non-regents,  and  masters  of  arts.  For  the  bet- 
ter government  of  the  University  there  is  also  a  hebdomadal  meeting 
of  the  heads  of  houses,  (colleges  and  halls,)  who  meet  every  Monday, 
•with  the  vice-chancellor  and  the  proctors,  and  are  empowered  to 
deliberate  upon  all  matters  relating  to  the  observance  of  the  statutes 
and  the  preservation  of  the  privileges  and  liberties  of  the  University. 
The  professorial  lectures  can  be,  and  in  part  must  be  attended  by  the 
students  of  all  colleges.  The  University  professorships  have  been 
gradually  founded,  without  any  order  or  system.  The  incumbents  are, 
at  tlic  same  time,  attached  to  a  particular  college.  There  are  now,  in 
Oxford,  only  twenty-three  professorships  for  the  following  branches 
of  study:  Divinity,  Hebrew,  Exegesis,  Ecclesiastical  History,  Moral 
Philosophy,  Poetry,  Political  Economy,  Logic,  Arabic,  Sanscrit, 
Anglo-Saxon,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  Natural  Philosophy,  Anatomy, 
Physiology,  Medicine,  Chemistry,  I'ractical  Chemistry,  Experiment- 
al Philosophy,  Mineralogy,  and  Geology. 

The  academical  year  is  divided  into  four  terms,  Michaelmas 
Term,  Hilary  Term,  Easter  Term,  and  Trinity  Term.  The  vacations 
cover  nearly  six  months.  Sixteen  terms  are  required  for  the  degree 
of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  twelve  terms  more  must  elapse  before  the 
admission  to  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  The  higher  degrees, 
especially  that  of  Bachelor  and  of  Doctor  of  Divinity,  require,  of 
course,  a  longer  preparation. 

The  most  interesting  time  in  the  English  Universities  is  the  annual 
"Commemoration,"  (viz.,  of  the  founder  and  benefactor  of  the  Uni- 
versity,) a  literary  festival  corresponding  to  our  "  commencements," 
though  far  surpassing  them  in  splendour  and  the  crowd  of  visitors.  It 
is  held  at  Oxford,  in  the  month  of  June,  in  the  Sheldonian  theatre,  a 
plain,  round  building,  called  after  its  founder.  Archbishop  Sheldon, 
of  Canterbury,  and  erected  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  in  IGOO,  at  an 
expense  of  £15.000.  It  will  hold  at  least  three  thousand  people. 
The  upper  gallery  is  occupied  by  the  under-graduates,  the  lower  by 
ladies,  and  the  area  or  pit  by  masters,  and  friends  introduced  by 
them.  The  ofEcers  and  students  appear  in  their  picturesque  medi- 
aeval costumes.     The  exercises  consist  in  the  conferrin":  of  the  liter- 


1856.]     English  University  Life  and  Universittj  Reform.       277 

ary  degrees  by  the  chancellor,  or,  in  his  absence,  by  the  vice-chancel- 
lor, with  the  consent  of  the  convocation ;  a  Latin  address  by  the 
public  orator  in  commemoration  of  the  founders  and  benefactors  of  the 
University ;  and  several  prize  essays  or  poems  by  the  successful  com- 
petitors, in  Latin  and  English.     Before  and  after  the  exercises,  and 
even  during  them,  as  the  names  of  the  different  candidates  for  the 
academic  honours  are  called  out,  the  under-graduatcs  in  the  gallery 
make  full  use  of  the  license  granted  them  on  that  day,  of  expressing 
by  cheers  and  groans,  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  their  approval  or 
disapproval  of  public  men  and  measures.     It  is  a  most  animated  and 
uproarious  occasion,  full  of  interest  and  instruction  as  to  the  real 
sentiments  of  the  rising  generation.     Loud  and  hearty  cheers  for  the 
Queen  and  Prince  Albert,  lustily  responded  to,  make  the  beginning. 
Then  the  senior  T^•rangler,  the  different  masters  and  professors,  her 
majesty's  ministers,  bishops,  and  other  public  men,  are  greeted  ^rith 
one,  two,  or  three  cheers,  or  as  many  groans,  according  to  the  meas- 
ure'of  their  popularity  or  disfavour.      The  proctors   are    nearly 
always  crroaned.     At  Cambridge,  when  the  men  of  Catharine's  Hall 
(abbrevTated  Cat's  Plall)  are  presented,  they  are  greeted  with  the 
mewing  of  a  cat.     The  ladies,  of  course,  receive  always  their  full 
share  of  attention.     There  are  shouts  for  "  the  ladles  in  white,"  the 
"ladies  in  black,"  "in  blue,"  "in  green,"  "  in  buff"  and  every  other 
colour;- for  "the  ladies  in  bonnets,"  and  "the  ladies  in  hats;"  for 
"the  ladies  coming  in,"  "the  ladles  who  have  got  in,"  "the  ladies 
who  can't  get  in  ;"^for  "the  ladies  with  blue  eyes,"  "the  ladies  with 
black  eyes  ;"  for  those  "  who  wear  glasses ;"  for  "  the  ladies  engag- 
ed," for  "  the  ladles  disengaged,"  and  for  "the  old  maids."     These 
demonstrations  are  good-natured  throughout,  full  of  genuine  English 
humour,  and  when  the  boisterousness  exceeds  the  limits,  a  httle 
waving  of  the  chancellor's  hand  is  always  suQicient  to  check  it.    At 
the  last  commemoration  in  Oxford  (lSo5)  the  heroes  of  the  Crimea, 
the  Emperor  and  Empress  of  the  French,  and  the  Allies  in  general, 
were  received  with  deafening  vociferations  of  applause,  interspersed 
with  intense  groans  for  Russia.     Tlie  name  of  .Miss  ISightingale, 
the   heroine  of  charity,  was  called  out  with  a  perfect  tempest  of 
praise.     Gladstone,  who  so  long  and  ably  represented  tiie  L  niversity 
in  Parliament,  but  has  made  himself  unpopular  lately  by  his  oppo- 
sition to  the  continuance  of  the  war  with  Paissia.  and  Lord  Palmcr- 
ston  the  present  prime  minister,  were  received  with  mingled  cheers 
and  'hisses.     A  similar  mixture  of  praise  and  censure,  but  a  greater 
portion  of  the  latter,  was  bestowed  upon  the  name  of  Layard,  the 
member  of  Parliament  for  Nineveh  and  Assyria,  and  the  reformers 
Bri-ht  and  Cobden  were  groaned.      When  the  name  of  James 


278      English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.      [April, 

Buchanan,  our  minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  was  presented 
for  the  honorary  Jcgi'ec  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  some  wag  in  the  gal- 
lery stiTick  up  Yankee  Doodle.  Sir  T.  Eurgoyne,  Sir  De  Lacy 
Evans,  and  Sir  Charles  Lycll  received  the  same  degree  under  great 
applause.  But  when  Alfred  Tennyson  walked  calmly  and  modestly 
up  the  aisle  to  receive  his  well-merited  honours,  he  was  still  more 
overwhelmed  with  thundering  cheers  than  the  heroes  of  the  Crimea, 
in  proof  that  the  sons  and  daughters  of  England,  after  all,  prize  the 
arts  of  peace  above  the  glories  of  war,  and  the  laurels  of  poetry 
above  the  blood-stained  triumphs  of  the  battle-field. 

The  L^niversity  of  Oxford  has  recently  undergone  some  changes, 
in  consequence  of  the  Reform  Bill  passed  in  1S54.  In  such  large 
and  complicated  institutions  there  must  necessarily  grow  up,  in  the 
course  of  time,  a  number  of  abuses  and  defects,  such  as  favouritism, 
monopolies,  arbitrary  and  capricious  rules,  want  of  discipline,  dead 
formalities,  &c.  For  two  hundred  years  the  English  Universities 
had  not  been  touched,  and  their  short-comings  were  overlooked  in 
view  of  the  eminent  services  which  they  still  continued  to  render  to 
the  country.  But  for  about  twenty  years  past  the  question  of  re- 
form has  been  seriously  agitated.  A  better  administration  of  funds, 
a  stricter  discipline,  an  increase  of  the  duties  of  fellows,  a  more 
general  distribution  of  the  fellowships  among  the  most  worthy,  and 
of  the  stipends  among  the  poor  students,  a  reduction  of  the  enor- 
mous expenses  of  education,  a  restriction  of  the  aristocratic  privi- 
leges, an  extension  of  the  proper  university  studies,  on  the  professo- 
rial system  in  distinction  from  tutorial  instruction,  and.  finally,  the 
admission  of  Dissenters  to  the  privileges  and  honours  of  these  na- 
tional establishments  of  liberal  education,  were  loudly  called  for. 
There  is  hardly  a  sensible  man  in  Oxford  or  Cambridge  who  does 
not  admit  the  necessity  or  desirableness  of  some  changes,  although 
they  differ  very  widely  as  to  the  nature  and  extent  of  them.  Many 
of  the  best  friends  of  these  Universities  have  been  the  most  zealous 
defenders  of  reform.  For  the  last  few  years  the  excitement  has  run 
very  high  on  the  subject,  and  a  number  of  pamphlets  and  articles 
were  Avritten  on  both  sides  of  the  question.  The  college  authorities 
have  often  been  asked  to  reform  themselves.  But  this  was,  per- 
haps, asking  more  humility  and  self-denial  than  poor  human  nature 
is  generally  capable  of  It  is  always  much  easier  to  see  the  mote 
in  a  brother's  eye,  than  to  pull  out  the  beam  from  our  own  eye. 

So  Parliament,  at  last,  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and  passed  the 
Oxford  University  Reform  Bill,  in  1S54.  It  is  the  joint  product  of 
Lord  John  Bussell  and  the  Honourable  W.  Gladstone,  both  mem- 
bers of  the  late  Aberdeen  ministry,  but  of  very  different  views  in 


1856.}     English  University  Life  and  University  Reform.      279 

politics  and  religion;  for  the  former  ^vas  educated  in  Scotland,  is 
the  leader  of  the  Whig  party,  and  an  enemy  of  Fuseyism ;  the  lat- 
ter is  one  of  the  most  dutiful  sons  of  Oxford,  a  conservative  Peelite, 
and  a  High  Churchman  of  the  Anglo- Catholic  school.  So  the  Re- 
form Bill  resulted  in  a  compromise,  and  was  reduced  to  an  improve- 
ment simply  of  the  present  system.  Here  it  satisfies  neither  of  the 
extreme  parties ;  but  it  was,  perhaps,  after  all,  the  best  measure 
which  could  be  wisely  carried  at  present.  It  removes  the  most 
glaring  abuses ;  throws  the  headships,  fellowships,  and  scholarships 
open  to  merit ;  forbids  the  non-residence  of  fellows  for  more  than  a 
year;  abolishes  the  legislative  and  administrative  supremacy  of  the 
hebdomadal  board,  and  establishes  a  new  hebdomadal  council,  com- 
posed of  the  vice-chancellor,  the  proctor,  six  heads  of  houses,  six  pro- 
fessors, and  six  members  of  the  convocation,  (the  last  eighteen  to  be 
all  elected  by  the  congregation,)  thus  combining  the  energy  of  youn^-' 
men  with  the  wisdom  of  experience.  This  council  hag  the  exclusive 
right  of  proposing  and  framing  laws  for  the  sanction  of  the  convo- 
cation, or  the  legislative  body  of  the  University. 

But  the  tutorial  system — that  is,  the  monopoly  of  public  instruc- 
tion by  the  fellows  of  each  college  separately — is  still  dominant  in 
Oxford.  We  do  not  agree  with  those  who  advocate  its  entire  abo- 
lition in  favour  of  the  professorial  system,  after  the  model  of  Ger- 
man universities.  On  the  contrary,  we  believe  that  the  catechetical 
method  of  instruction,  in  connexion  with  a  constant  supervision  of 
the  student?,  has  invaluable  advantages,  especially  in  a  moral  and 
religious  point  of  view.  The  unbounded  freedom  of  the  German 
universities  involves  a  fearful  risk  for  incxjiericnced  youth.  But  I 
do  not  see  why  both  systems  should  not  be  combined.  An  exten- 
sion of  professorial  teaching,  and  a  more  complete  organization  of 
the  faculty  studies,  arc  certainly,  as  already  remarked,  important 
desiderata  for  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  It  cannot  be  denied,  that 
the  independent  contributions  of  these  establishments  to  the  cause 
of  literature  and  science  are  in  no  jT^j-ortiim  whatever  to  their  im- 
mense pecuniary  resources.  The  German  universities,  although 
much  poorer,  accomplish  far  more  in  this  respect,  as  is  evident  from 
the  fact,  that  nearly  all  the  distinguished  philological  authorities 
known  and  used  in  Oxford  and  Cambridge  are  Germans,  or  old 
Dutch;  as  Buhnken,  Valckenaer,  Ernesti,  lloyne,  Orelli,  Hermann, 
Lachmann,  Bekker,  Dindorf,  Baehr,  Bassow,  Poppo,  Buttmann, 
Kuehner,  Zumpt,  Host,  Gcseaius,  Ev.ald.  This  literary  fertility  is. 
to  a  very  great  extent  owing  to  the  competition  or  rivalry  connected 
with  the  professorial  system.  Wc  have  no  doubt  that  the  English 
Universities  would  produce  far  more  elaborate  works  on  the  various 


280       English  University  Life  mid  University  Reform.    [April, 

branches  of  science,  if  the  professorial  studies  were  better  provided 
for;  and  if  the  tutorial  career  ^^•ere  the  regular  preparation  for  the 
professorship.  Dr.  Pusey  raised  the  objection  against  the  Geiinan 
universities,  that  they  are  the  nurseries  of  Rationalism.  But  this  is 
not  necessarily  the  result  of  the  professorial  system,  but  of  a  par- 
ticular age,  which  dates  only  from  the  end  of  the  last  century,  and 
has  already  in  a  great  measure  passed  away  to  make  room  for  evan- 
gelical orthodoxy.  The  Scotch  universities,  which  are  similarly 
constituted,  have  never  reared  yet  an  infidel  clergy.  AVith  just  as 
much  reason  we  might  derive  Puseyism  and  the  Anglican  secessions 
to  Romanism,  which  grew  out  of  it,  from  the  half-monastic  system 
of  tutorial  instruction  and  supervision. 

But  in  one  important  respect  the  Oxford  University  Reform  Bill,  as 
finally  passed  by  Parliament,  v.ent  beyond  the  original  draft  as  laid 
before  the  house  by  the  Aberdeen  ministry  on  the  17th  of  March,  1S5-4. 
The  religious  test  or  oath  at  matriculation  and  at  the  taking  of  the 
bachelor's  degree  has  been  abolished,  so  that  collegee  ducation,  and 
the  first  degree  in  the  liberal  arts,  are  now  open  to  every  English- 
man without  subscribing  the  Thirty-nine  Articles.  The  Uigh  Church 
party  is,  of  course,  very  much  opposed  to  this  concession  to  the 
Dissenters,  and  considers  it  an  infringement  on  the  rights  of  the 
Established  Church.  But  this  is,  in  fact,  no  more  the  national 
Church;  and  if  the  Universities  are  to  retain  a  national  character, 
they  ought  to  be  liberalized,  and  to  throw  their  doors  open  to  every 
subject  of  the  crown.  Most  of  the  colleges  and  their  endowments 
are  of  medireval  and  Roman  Catholic  origin,  and  were  inherited  by 
the  Episcopal  Church  on  the  ground  that  England  belongs  not  to 
the  dead,  but  to  the  living.  On  the  same  principle  the  Dissenters, 
who  have  since  grown  to  be  almost  as  numerous  as  the  Anglicans, 
may  justly  claim  some  share  in  the  educational  advantages  of  these 
national  institutions.  There  is  no  danger  that  the  Dissenters,  who 
may  avail  themselves  of  the  privileges  now  opened  to  them,  will 
bring  abr.ut  a  radical  change  in  these  institutions.  On  the  con- 
trary', they  will  be  as  much,  and  more  influenced  by  them  as  Oxford 
and  Cambriilge  by  the  Dissenters. 

It  is  to  be  expected  that  the  English  Universities  will  henceforth 
follow  in  the  general  train  of  all  English  institutions.  It  is  only 
by  timely  adaptations  to  the  real  wants  of  this  age  of  progress,  that 
they  can  be  saved  against  stagnation  as  well  as  radical  revolution. 
The  citadel  of  Conservatism  has  at  last  been  stormed  by  the  spirit 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  no  power  can  set  limits  to  future  ac- 
tions of  Parliament,  and  arrest  the  law  of  constitutional  progress. 


1856.]  V.i<3,  Sheol.  281 


Art.  \ai._^-j^:i^^  SIEEOL. 

This  word  occurs  sLxty-fivc  times  in  the  original  Hebrew  of  the 
Bible,  and  is  rendered,  in  the  common  En!:;lish  translation,  thirty- 
one  times  "hell,"  thirty  times  "the  grave,"  three  times  "the  pit," 
and  once  "  gi-ave." 

As  use,  and  not  derivation,  is  the  true  standard  by  which  the 
meaning  of  a  word  is  most  properly  ascertained,  so,  whether  b'xd 
Sheol  is  supposed  to  be  derived  from  one  Avord  or  from  another, 
either  derivation  is  founded  on  only  a  supposition,  and  can  prove 
comparatively  nothing.  For  an  illustration  of  this  remark,  let  it  be 
supposed  that  '::-i<d  Sheol  etymologically  means  a  cavity;  then,  as 
it  cannot  be  proved  that  the  soul  of  man,  though  immaterial,  is 
capable  of  existing  in  all  places  at  one  and  the  same  time,  so,  on  its 
departure  from  his  body,  it  may  really  occupy  a  general  cavity  of 
a  particular  nature ;  and  hence,  ^-x'^'  Sheol  may  be  in  this  respect 
as  applicable  to  the  soul  as  to  the  body;  and  if  the  word  is  derived, 
as  usually  supposed,  from  a  worf^ signifying  "to  ask,"  it  is,  in  this 
case  also,  as  applicable  to  a  receptacle  for  the  soul  as  to  one  for 
the  body,  since  the  former  receptacle,  at  least  as  truly  as  the  latter, 
may  be  regarded  as  claiming  what  it  receives.  As  derivation,  then, 
affords  no  means  of  ascertaining  the  meaning  of  the  word  defini- 
tively, its  use  must  be  examined  and  regarded  as  alone  decisive  in 
relation  to  its  signification. 

Several  grammatical  facts  connected  with  b-^sd  Sheol  are  very 
striking,  and  they  indicate  that  it  is  a  }Iehrew  proper  name  of  a 
particular  place.  If  this  be  true,  it  is  susceptible  of  the  clearest 
demonstration. 

1.  According  to  the  rule  of  Hebrew  grammar  which  requires  the 
Hobrew  article  to  be  ''omitted  in  proper  names  of "  "countries," 
y.u'd  Sheol  is  Jievcr  cormected  xuilh  that  article.  That  the  con- 
stant absence  of  the  Hebrew  definite  article  from  this  word  indi- 
cates that  it  is  a  proper,  and  not  simply  an  indefinite  or  common 
noun,  is  particularly  corroborated  by  two  special  facts :  first,  that, 
if  it  were  not  an  ordinary  proper  name,  such  of  its  omissions  of  that 
article  as  those  in  Numbers  xvi,  33,  and  Psalm  xli.x,  14,  would  be 
contrary  to  the  rule  of  Hebrew  grammar,  according  to  which  the 
article  is  prefixed  to  a  common  noun  "when"  it  "is  repeated" 
after  it  has  "just  been  introduced  ;"  secondly,  that,  if  it  were  not  a 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VHL— IS 


282  ii»^".  Sheol.  [April, 

proper  name,  its  omissions  of  the  article  in  Proverbs  i,  12,  Canticles 
viii,  G,  and  Ilabakkuk  ii,  5,  would  be  contrary  to  the  rule,  that  "the 
Hebrews  "  employed  the  article  in  "  comparisons  "  after  ^  ko  (as) 
■when  "the  noun  compared  is"  not  ''made  definite,"  either  by  a 
"genitive,"  as  is  the  word  similarly  compared  which  follows  y<i<d 
Sheol  in  Prov.  i,  12,  "  or  in  any  other  way,"  as  by  the  fact  that  it  is 
a  proper  name,  of  which  an  illustrative  example  occurs  in  Isaiah  i,  9, 
independent  of  these  three  instances  of  ;'x"i  Sheol.  In  Canticles 
and  Ilabakkuk,  the  original  word  rendered  "  death,"  similarly  com- 
pared, is  in  each  case  preceded  by  the  article,  showing;  that  i^b<C3 
Sheol,  not  otherwise  "  made  dejinite,"  is  made  such  by  the  fact  that 
it  is  a  proper  name. 

2.  As  Hebrew  collective  nouns,  or  nouns  of  multitude,  are  pre- 
ceded by  the  article,  "  when  the  entire  genus  is  designated,"  and  as 
Hebrew  nouns  which  desii^nate  plurality,  and  which  are  not  collect- 
ive nouns,  have  plural  endings,  or  are  repeated,  "  witJi  and  without 
the  copula,"  so  ^-^icd  Sheol,  which,  as  in  Job  xxvi,  6,  and  Proverbs 
XV,  11,  never  lias  any  of  tJicsc  characteristics  of  plurality,  is  not  a 
collective  noun,  and  is  always  in  the  singular  number,  which  shows 
that  there  is  only  one  thing  of  its  character.  It  therefore  cannot  mean 
deaths  or  earthly  distresses ;  and  though  it  designates  the  place  to 
"which  all  men  are  represented,  as  in  Ecclesiastes  ix,  10,  to  go  at 
death,  yet  it  cannot  designate  the  place  to  which  their  bodies  then 
go,  unless  such  jAacc  include  at  least  land  and  water  and  the  open 
air,  and  the  internal  parts  of  animals.  Its  meaning  then  would, 
from  even  this  alone,  appear  to  be  tlie  general  receptacle  of  de- 
parted human  spirits. 

3.  bij^d  Sheol  is  never  connected  with  personal  possessive  pro- 
nomis,  nor  with  demonstrative  pronouns,  and  it  never  occurs  in  the 
"  construct  state,"  nor  in  any  other  way  which  would  show  that  it 
belongs  or  appertains  to  only  one  individual,  or  to  only  a  part  of 
mankind;  and  hence  it  must  bo  regarded  as  a  general  receptacle, 
and  as  not  susceptible  ut  an  exclusive  appropriation  to  individuiils. 

4.  As  what  is  emphatically  termed  "He  local"  {rv^)  implies 
"place,"  so  ^'^x::  Sheol,  which  has  that  Hebrew  appendage  to 
designations  of  locality  annexed  to  itself  ten  times,  and  twice  to 
words  connected  with  it  in  meaning,  is  evidently  a  place,  and  not 
an  abstract  thing,  as  death,  unconsciousness,  or  earthly  distress, 
which  is  confirmed  by  the  flict,  that  p-it-:;  Sheol,  never  being  femi- 
nine in  form,  and  never  having  the  article  prefixed  to  it,  has  not 
the  marks  which  singly  or  jointly  are  generally  connected  with 
Hebrew  abstract  nouns. 


1856.]  ii.\d,  Sheol.  283 

To  the  grammatical  use  of  ':3-5<ri  Shcol,  Hebrew  common  nouns 
in  abundance,  especially  those  of  at  least  as  frequent  occurrence, 
.  present  striking  and  illustrative  contrasts.  For  an  illustration  of 
this  remark,  it  is  sufficient  to  refer  to  the  appropriate  Hebrew  words 
for  a  literal  grave  and  death,  with  which  ^"sd  Sheol  is  perhaps  most 
frequently  assumed  to  be  synonymous.  The  former  of  these,  ^;|5 
kever,  has  the  Hebrew  article  in  Psalm  Ixxxviii,  11 — "the  grave;" 
•plural  endings,  as  in  Exodus  xiv,  11— "graves  ;"  personal  possessive 
pronouns,  as  in  1  Kings  xiii,  30—"  his  own  grave ;"  and  it  is  also 
in  the  construct  state,  as  in  2  Samuel  iii,  32 — "  the  grave  of"  The 
latter  of  those  two  words,  r.i"?  mauveth,  has  that  article  also  in 
1  Samuel  xx,  3— "death;"  a  plural  ending  in  Ezra  xxviii,  10 — 
"deaths  ;"  personal  possessive  pronouns,  as  in  Deuteronomy  xxxi,  27 
— "my  death;"  a  demonstrative  pronoun  in  Exodus  x,  17 — "this 
death ;"  and  it  is  also  in  the  construct  state,  as  in  Joshua  i,  1 — "  the 
death  of." 

Though  it  is  true  that  exceptions  occur  to  most  rules,  yet  as  it  is 
UTTEKLY  ABSUED  to  supposc  that  this  word,  ivith  a  comparatively 
limited  frequency  of  occurrence,  is  an  exception,  not  to  owe  rule, 
but  to  several  different  rules,  and  in  so  many  instances,  so  it 
seems  to  be  philologically  proved  that  it  is  a  proper  name.  As 
such,  it  is  not  susceptible  of  a  multii>licity  of  meanings,  and  there- 
fore cannot  legitimately  signify  a  literal  grave,  a  literal  pit,  death, 
earthly  distress.  It  is  not  very  strange,  however,  that  when  it  is  rep- 
resented by  the  words  gi-ave  and  pit,  an  absurdity  does  not  always 
appear ;  since  the  arrival  of  a  human  soul  in  the  general  receptacle 
of  departed  spirits  is  usually  succeeded  by  a  consignment  of  its 
body  to  a  grave  or  pit ;  and  therefore  in  such  cases  two  events  are 
equally  true,  and  a  man  goes  as  really  to  a  grave  or  pit  as  to  the 
spirit- world.  But  as  such  an  interpretation  tends  to  produce  the 
impression  that  V^-J  Sheol  is  an  indefinite  noun,  susceptible  of  so 
various  meanings  as  to  exclude  any  ono  fixed  and  proper  si^nifica- 
tiou,  truth  would  unquestionably  be  promoted  by  rendering  it,  in  all 
cases,  the  general  receptacle  of  departed  human  spirits,  or  the 
spirit-icorld ;  or  still  more  by  transferring  it  without  a  translation, 
as  a  proper  name.  In  Robinson's  Gesvnius's  Hebrew  Lexicon,  it  is 
so  treated,  and  therefore  expresseil  by  the  English  Sheol. 

That  the  inhabitants  of  rx-'  Sheol  have  consciousness  is  obvious 
from  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is  represented.  As  Sheol 
designates  a  place  separate  and  distinct  from  that  to  which  the  body 
is  consigned  at  death,  the  conclusion  follows  almost  irresistibly  that 
the  part  of  man  which  goes  to  it,  and  which  must  be  the  soul,  possesses 


284  i\^^:p;  Sheol.  [April, 

consciousness,  since  no  other  good  reason  can  be  assigned  why  that 
distinguished  part  occupies  not  at  death  the  same  place  -with  the 
body. 

Clear  and  striking  as  is  the  preceding  evidence  that  ii'^j^d  Sheol 
represents  the  general  receptacle  of  departed  human  spirits,  an 
exposition  of  every  passage  in  which  this  unique  and  important  word 
occurs,  will  clearly  show  that  it  represents  a  place  in  which  the  soul 
of  man  dwells  after  death,  and  into  which  all  enter  with  their  re- 
spective characters  of  obedience  or  disobedience,  according  as  they 
are  obedient  or  disobedient  to  Heaven's  requirements  at  their  de- 
parture from  this  life;  from  which  seems  necessarily  to  follow  a 
distinction  there  of  pleasure  and  pain. 

1.  Genesis  xxxvii,  35:  "And  all  his  sons,  and  all  his  daughters, 
rose  up  to  comfort  him,  but  he  refused  to  be  comforted ;  and  he 
said,  For  I  will  go  down,"  n^"^>«;V  Sheolah,."into  the  grave  unto  my 
son  mourning.  Thus  his  father  wept  for  him."  This  is  the  first 
instance  of  i"nd  Sheol  that  occurs  in  the  Bible,  employed  by  the 
patriarch  Jac«b  after  he  had  exclaimed,  "An  evil  beast  hath 
devoured  him.  Joseph  is  without  doubt  rent  in  pieces."  iVi  Sheol 
is  here  proved  not  to  be  a  grave,  nor  any  opening  in  the  earth, 
by  the  fact  that  Jacob  believed  his  "son"  Joseph  to  be  in  it, 
while  he  equnll}-  believed  him  to  be,  not  in  the  earth,  but  either  in 
the  "  evil  beast,"  or  scattered  upon  the  earth's  surface.  As  the 
fither  thought  that  his  "son"  had  been  "devoured,"  he  could  not 
have  expected  to  "  go  "  "  unto  "  his  son's  body,  either  in  that  "  evil 
beast,"  or  anyvrhcre  else,  at  least  prior  to  the  general  resurrection. 
!Nor  could  the  venerable  father  have  meant  that  at  that  resurrection 
he  would  "go"  "unto"  his  "son,"  since  he  said  he  would  "•''■o" 
"unto"  him  ''mourning,"  which  implies  that  he  expected  to  con- 
tinue to  be  sad,  till  he  should  reach  him;  but  this  he  could  not 
have  expected,  had  he  known  that  after  the  death  of  his  o^vn  body 
he  would  for  thousands  of  years  bo  unconscious,  and  that,  accord- 
ingly, instead  of  going  "  unto"  him  while  "  7nourning,"  he  would 
"go"  "unto"  him  in  simple  unconsciouness,  or  in  that  joy  with 
which  his  body  will  doubtless  meet  Joseph's  at  the  resurrection. 
He  must  therefore  have  expected  to  reach  him  as  soon  as  he  himself 
should  die.  IS  or  could  he  have  meant  merely  that  he  would  die, 
since  his  words,  "  unto  my  son,"  imply  place  and  nearness  of  posi- 
tion; and  as  his  body  could  not  experience  such  a  position  relative 
to  that  of  his  "  son,"  while  he  himself  was  "  niournmg,"'  he  must  have 
expected  that  his  conscious  soul  would  in  iiiitd  Sheol  be  associated 
vnth  the  undevoured  soul  of  Joseph.     The  words  "  unto  my  son," 


1856.]  M.r^p,   Shcol.  285 

then,  condemn  the  assumption  that  after  death  nothing  remains  of 
man  besides  his  body.  If  at  death  there  is  not  immediately  a  meet- 
ing of  departed  human  spirits  in  the  spirit-world,  then  to  sa}'  that 
one  person  who  is  about  to  die  will  "  go  "  "  unto  "  another  who  is 
already  dead,  and  from  whose  dead  body  he  will  continue  to  %e  far 
separated,  would  indicate  at  least  as  much  absurdity  as  to  say  that 
one  person  who  is  about  to  live,  will  come  "unto"  another  who  is 
already  alive,  and  from  whose  living  body  he  will  continue  to  be  far 
separated.  Besides  this,  if  Jacob  did  not  expect  to  "go"  "unto" 
Joseph  except  in  the  sense  that  he  would  soon  be  dead,  as  he 
■  thought  his  "  son  "  already  was — if  he  had  no  reference  in  his  ex- 
pectation to  a  meeting  with  him  in  the  spirit- world,  then  he  might 
as  well  have  said  that  he  was  going  to  all  the  animals,  and  even  nil 
the  vegetables  that  were  then  dead,  and  from  the  remains  of  which 
he  would  continue  to  be  for  separated!  And  if  the  soul  of  Jacob 
did  not  at  death  "go"  "unto"  that  of  Joseph,  then  it  would  be  as 
absurd  in  him  to  say  he  would  "  go  "  unto  his  "  son,"  as  to  say  that 
one  person  who  is  about  to  sleep,  will  "go"  "unto"  another  who  is 
already  asleep,  and  from  whom  he  will  during  sleep  continue  to  be 
far  separated.  It  seems  also  to  be  absurd  to  suppose  that  Jacob 
expected  to  come  "unto"  Joseph,  without  knowing  it;  and  therefore 
he  must  have  expected  to  continue  conscious  beyond  death.  As, 
according  to  2  Cor.  xii,  2,  3,  "  a  man"  may  be  "a  man,"  "whether 
in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,"  so  it  is  not  strange  that  Jacob  did 
not  mention  the  soul  as  the  part  Avhich  he  expected  to  "  go  "  "'  unto  " 
Joseph.  Such  circumlocution  would  have  been  alike  inconsistent 
with  the  directness  of  deep  emotion,  and  with  the  elliptical  sim- 
plicity of  similar  statements  on  the  part  of  tiiose  who  arc  positively 
known  to  believe  that  man's  soul  has  a  conscious  existence  after 
death.  As  Jacob  could  not  have  thought  that  Joseph,  whom  he 
regarded  as  "devoured,"  was  in  earthly  distress,  so  j-kv:  Sheol,  in 
which  he  believed  him  to  be,  is  proved  not  to  mean  earthly  distress. 
This  is  also  obvious  from  the  fact,  thai  in  such 'distress  the  '■  raourn- 
i?ig"  Jacob  already  was  when  he  said,  "I  will  go  down  into" 
i^sd  Sheol,  "  unto  my  son  mourning."  Should  it  be  said  that, 
because  he  was  "  T7ioi/niing,'"  he  could  not  expect  to  meet  Joseph  in 
the  spirit-world,  then,  for  the  same  reasgn,  he  could  not  expect  to 
meet  him  in  heaven  at  death.  From  the  fact  that  he  is  represented 
as  a  good  man  when  the  words  here  discussed  were  uttered,  it  is 
reasonably  inferred  that  he  expccLcd  to  enjoy  happiness  in  the  spirit- 
world.  The  word  "  down,"  in  connexion  with  bij^r  Sheol,  no  more 
proves  that  y^md  Sheol  is  a  place  for  man's  unconscious  dead  body 


286  iixa,  Shcol  [April, 

than  the  ■vrord  '•"up,"  in  connexion  •^ith  heaven,  in  2  Kings  ii,  1, 11, 
and  in  Luke  xxiv,  51,  and  also  in  Acts  i,  9-11,  proves  that  heaven  is 
not  the  place  where  God  more  immediately  dwells.  That  word 
"down"  indicates,  if  anything,  that  j-^r  Sheol  is  a  place,  and  not 
a  state.  And  to  say  that  the  soul  or  spirit  of  a  man  occupies  after 
death  a  place,  is  not  inconsistent  with  its  dwelling  before  death  in 
a  place,  nor  with  Solomon's  prayer  to  God,  who  is  emphatically  "a 
Spirit,"  in  2  Chronicles  vi,  30  :  "Then  hear  thou  from  heaven  thy 
dwelling-place."  Place,  then,  is  not  repugnant  to  the  Scriptural 
idea  of  a  spirit.  "Whatever  may  bo  the  nature  of  a  human  spirit,  it 
possesses  not  the  attribute  of  Omnipresence,  and  must  necessarily 
occupy  some  particular  portion  of  space.  The  word  "  do-\ni,"  then, 
impl3-ing  locality,  harmonizes  with  the  idea  of  a  spirit-world,  as  does 
also  "He  local,"  which  is  here  annexed  to  ^-5<r  Sheol.  The  as- 
sumption that  b'i^'i  Sheol  means  merely  death,  or  a  state  of  death, 
supposes  that  the  patriarch  Jacob  expected  to  meet  his  "  son " 
Joseph,  not  in  the  spirit-world,  nor  even  where  he  supposed  the 
body  of  that  "  son"  to  be,  but  in  the  abstract  state  of  death,  which, 
aside  from  its  subjects,  like  other  abstractions,  has  no  existence! 
Where  j-sr  Sheol  may  be  located,  cannot  be  positively  inferred 
from  the  word  "down,"  which  may  be  used  relatively,  not  to  the 
earth,  but  to  heaven,  which  is  represented  to  be  "  up."  An  igno- 
rance of  the  precise  location  of  ^-xd  Sheol  is,  however,  no  more 
strange  or  significant  than  that  of  the  precise  location  of  heaven. 

From  the  preceding  remarks  relative  to  p^Ku:  Sheol,  as  first  used, 
it  follows  that  it  was  regarded,  in  the  times  and  among  the  people 
of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  as  designating  a  place  in  which  the  soul  of 
man  dwells  after  its  departure  from  the  body. 

2.  Genesis  xlii,  38  :  "  And  he  said,  My  son  shall  not  go  down 
with  you ;  for  his  brother  is  dead,  and  he  is  left  alone  :  if  mischief 
befall  him  by  the  way  in  the  which  ye  go,  then  shall  ye  bring  down 
my  gray  hair.?  with  sorrow  to  the  grave,"  b-i<r  Sheol.  From  the  use 
of  the  words  "  gray  hairs,"  it  might  at  first  seem  that  Vs^d  Sheol 
represented  a  place  designed  for  the  reception  of  man's  body.  But 
this  meaning  of  ;-i<d  Sheol  would  be  in  direct  opposition  to  that 
given  to  it  by  the  same  patriarch  in  the  passage  just  discussed. 
Besides  this,  he  could  not  have  meant  that  his  "  gray  hairs  "  would 
alone  be  brought  to  some  place  or  thing,  and  this  proves  that  these 
Vords  are  figuratively  employed.  As  such,  then,  the  question  arises, 
what  do  they  represent?  The  answer  must  be  that,  in  connexion 
with  the  word  "my,"  they  represent  me — "then  shall  ye  bring"  me 
"down"  "with  sorrow  to  the  gi-ave,"  rxt;  Sheol.     This  is  accord- 


1856.]  5i»»,  Sheol  287 

ing  to  the  rule  of  Hebrew  grammar,  that  "  The  place  of  the  personal 
pronouns,  especially  in  a  rcjlcxive  sense,  is  often  supplied  by  the 
most  distinguished  and  essential  parts  of  either  the  external  or 
internal  man."  The  sense  of  Sheol  in  this  passage  is  thus  seen  not 
to  differ  from  that  just  discussed,  since  the  represented  me  of  this 
is  the  same  as  the  '7"  of  that — "  I  will  go  down  into  the  grave,"  ':.-^'6 
Sheol,  "unto  my  son  mourning."  Besides,  he  could  not  here  have 
meant  by  Vj<t;  Sheol  any  other  place  than  that  in  vdiich  he  supposed 
Joseph's  undevoured  soul  to  be,  into  which  his  own  ''  gray  hairs,"  or 
even  body,  could  no  more  be  brought  now  than  before.  That  b-K*J 
Sheol  here  means  the  spirit-world,  and  not  a  literal  grave,  is  also 
confirmed  by  the  fact  that  the  instrument  by  which  he  said  that  his 
sons  would  "bring"  him  "down"  "to  the  grave,"  bi^^'  Sheol,  was 
"  sorroiv."  The  influence  which  "  sorrow  "  has  upon  the  body  ceases 
at  death,  and  not  at  a  subsequent  burial;  and  as  Jacob  did  not 
expect  to  escape  "  sorrow  "  before  his  arrival  in  j^s:^'  Sheol,  nor  to 
be  buried  at,  but  after  death,  Vi^'i  Sheol  is  proved  not  to  mean  a 
literal  grave,  but  tlic  spirit-world.  That  i'l^r"  Sheol  does  not  here 
mean  death,  is  obvious  from  the  fact  that  "He  local "  is  here  con- 
nected with  it,  and  from  the  fact  \aiich  Matthew  x,  28,  emphatically 
teaches,  that  the  soul  is  so  indestructible  that  neither  the  sons  of 
Jacob,  nor  those  of  any  one  else,  can  kill  it;  and  that  though  the 
body  is  killed,  the  soul  remains  alive—"  fear  not  them  which  kill  the 
body,  but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul."  And  that  i;-,i^'i  Sheol  does 
not  here  mean  earthly  distress  is  evident  from  the  fact  that,  if  it 
did,  then  Jacob  represented  that  as  going  to  such  distress  or  sorrow 
■which  was  already  affected  "with  sorrow!" 


288  Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.  [April, 


akt.  vm— practical  hints  for  students  of  biblical 

LITERATURE,    f    .  ■ .:  c:  .  L- 

Biblical  helps  may   be   divided  into    Geographical,    Historical, 
Archaeological,  Introductory,  Philological,  and  Hermeneutical. 

1.  Geograpliical.  Of  Geographies  of  the  Holy  Land,  there  are 
three  of  nearly  equal  value:  Coleman's  Historical  Text-Book  and 
Atlas  of  Biblical  Geography ;  a  Biblical  Geography  and  History 
by  Charles  A.  Goodrich,  and  a  Gazetteer  by  the  Sabbath- School 
Union.  The  maps  and  chronological  tables  of  the  first  are 
extensive  and  correct,  and  it  incorporates  into  its  pages  the  recent 
discoveries  of  Bawlinson,  Layard,  Lynch,  and  De  Saulcy.  For  a 
map  of  Palestine,  Bobinson's  is  one  of  the  best,  and  can  easily  be 
procured. 

2.  Historical.  Smith's  three  volumes  of  Sacred  Annals,  and 
Kurtz's  Sacred  History,  are  the  best  references  on  this  subject. 
The  latter  is  valuable  as  a  text-book.  The  author  was  a  pupil  of 
Tholuck,  and  Professor  of  Church  History  in  the  University  of 
Dorpat,  and  though  the  work  is  merely  a  compendium,  it  exhibits  the 
hand  of  a  scholar. 

3.  Archreological.  In  this  department,  which  treats  of  every- 
thing of  interest  relating  to  the  outicard  life  of  the  Jews, 
Jahn's  Archaeology,  and  Kevin's  Biblical  Antiquities,  are  well 
known.  . 

4.  Introductory.  Of  General  Introductions,  Home's  is  the  most 
extensively  known ;  but,  though  it  exhibits  vast  industry,  it  is  not,  in 
our  opinion,  a  well  compacted,  or  closely  critical  and  scholarlike 
performance.  For  the  Old  Testament,  there  are  no  entirely  relia- 
ble introductions,  since  De  Wette's  and  Jahn's  are  both  chargeable 
with  errors,  yet,  on  the  whole,  arc  worthy  uf  being  consulted.  David- 
son's and  Hug's  Introductions  to  the  New  Testament  are  each  of 
them  extensive  and  critical,  and  the  former,  though  expensive, 
deserves  to  be  more  generally  circulated  in  this  country. 

The  subject  of  the  correctness  of  the  sacred  text,  which  is 
generally  treated  of  in  Introductions,  is  ably  handled  in  some 
separate  works,  such  as  Davidson's  Biblical  Criticism,  Havcrnick's 
Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament,  and  llengstenberg  on  the 
Genuineness  of  the  Pentateuch  and  Daniel.  As  a  general  reference 
book  in  the  four  departments  above  mentioned,  Kitto's  Cyclopaedia 


1856.]    Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.    2S9 

is  invaluable.     Strickland  on  Biblical  Literature  is  a  good  com- 
pendium. 

5.  .Philological.  The  best  helps  to  the  understanding  of  the 
languages  of  the  Bible  are  Gcsenius's  Hebrew  Grammar,  Ge- 
senius's  Hebrew  Dictionary,  and  ]?obinson's  Greek  Dictionary  of 
the  jS'ew  Testament.  The  last  more  than  serves  the  purpose  of  a 
commentary  ;  it  not  only  gives  translations  of  the  Greek  words,  but 
systematizes  their  meanings  as  found  in  different  places,  and  thus 
gives  clearness  and  accuracy  to  our  knowledge  of  the  IMew  Testa- 
ment. Conant's  Revised  Edition  of  the  Hebrew  Grammar  contains 
a  valuable  chrestomathy  of  several  parts  of  the  Old  Testament. 
,  Winer's  Greek  Idioms  of  the  New  Testament,  or  Trollope's,  i 
should  be  a  constant  companion  in  the  study  of  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment. Trench's  small  work  on  the  Greek  Synonyms  of  the  New 
,  Testament  is  suggestive.  No  student  shduld  be  without  Stier 
!  and  Theile's  Biblia  Polyglotta.  which  contains  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  in  four  languages.  It  can  be  had,  bound  in  five  volumes, 
for  6;1G. 

6.  Hei-meneutical.  On  the  general  subject  o^nterpretation.  a  very 
valuable  work  has  been  published  by  Dr.  Davidson,  in  England.  It 
includes  a  History  of  Interpretation,  Principles  and  Kinds  of  Inter- 
pretation, Quotatio}is  from  the  Old  Tc.sfa.'ncnt  in  the  New,  alleged 
Contradictions  of  Scriptures,  »fcc.  ]McClelland's  and  Ernesti's  small 
volumes  on  Interpretation  contain  some  valuable  hints.  Hermeneu- 
tics,  or  Interpretation,  includes  two  things,  translations  and  notes. 
A  translation  or  paraphrase,  v/hich  give?  the  full  meaning  of  the  origi- 
nal, and  is  well  divided  into  paragraphs  and  sentences,  is  even  more 
useful  for  study  than  notes.  Consult,  for  example,  Alexander's 
versions  of  the  Psalms  and  Isaiah,  and  Stuart's  of  Proverbs  and 
Ecclesiastes,  Bomans  and  Hebrews,  as  contained  in  their  commen- 
taries on  those  books.  The  short  parajilirase  of  the  Epistles  of  St. 
Paul  in  the  work  of  Conybeare  and  Howson  is  extremely  valuable 
for  private  study;  and  the  paraphrase  of  the  Gospels  contained  in 
Strong's  Harmony  may  be  used  for  the  same  purpose.  The  version 
of  the  Baptist  Bible  Society  is  likewise  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
scholars.  In  this  connection  we  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  the 
advantages  of  a  familiar  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  in  the  original, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  read  them  with  readiness.  Like  the  study  of  a 
translation  or  paraphrase,  they  give  freshness  and  continuity,  and  in 
addition,  command  a  closer  attention  to  the  nicer  shades  of  thought 
and  expression. 

The  Herraeneutics  of  the  Bible  may  be  divided  into  several  parts  : 


290     Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.  [April, 

the  interpretation  of  Bible  History,  Bible  Poetry,  Bible  Prophecy, 
and  Bible  Theology. 

1.  Bible  History.  1.  Old  Testament.  Professor'Bush  has  pub- 
lished the  best,  and  almost  the  only  works  in  English,  on  the  Pen- 
tateuch and  the  book  of  Judges.  These  are  throughout  character- 
ized by  a  deep  reverence  for  the  authority  of  Scripture,  and  the 
most  extensive  and  discriminating  scholarship.  The  reconciliation 
of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  with  the  foots  of  geology  is  ably 
handled,  though  most  ^yould  not  agree  with  him  in  the  exposition  of 
the  first  verse.  Ur.  Turner's  Companion  to  Genesis,  though  not  a 
continuous  commentary,  gives  an  excellent  analysis  of  the  several 
chapters,  and  an  exposition  of  the  most  difiicult  passages.  Heng- 
stenbcrg  on  Egypt  and  the  books  of  Moses  is  of  an  argumentative 
character,  designed  to  confirm  the  truth  of  the  Scripture  narrative 
The  best  view  of  the  other  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testament, 
besides  that  contained  in  Clarke's  Commentary,  is  found  in  the 
more  extended  sacred  histories  of  the  Jews. 

2.  New  Testament.  For  the  study  of  the  Gospels  there  are 
!Neanders  Life  of  Christ,  Strong's  Harmony  and  Exposition,  Eob- 
inson's  and  Strong's  Greek  Harmonies.  Olshausen  on  the  Gospels, 
Kitto's  Life  of  om-  Lord,  Alford's  Greek  Testament,  Barnes,  Clarke, 
Trench  on  Miracles,  Trench  on  Parables,  Tholuck  on  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  Tholuck  on  John,  Lucke  on  John,  Tittman  on  John, 
Trollope's  Analecta  Theologica.  The  number  of  commentaries  is 
an  advantage,  as  it  enables  the  inquirer  to  examine  several  on  any 
difficult  passage.  The  Life  of  Christ  by  Neander  is  of  great  value, 
and  the  translators  have  done  excellent  service  to  the  public  by  in- 
troducing it  into  this  country.  It  is  full  of  learned  and  thoroughly 
original  investigations,  and  does  not  fall  into  the  common  error  of 
commentators,  of  dwelling  on  the  easy,  while  it  evades  the  difficult 
points.  Strong's  Harmony  and  E.xposition  supplies  a  want  which 
has  long  been  felt.  In  consequence  of  endeavouring  to  obtain  the 
fullest  possible  eflect  and  impressiveness,  the  paraphrase  is  some- 
times too  free,  and  exhibits  want  of  dignity  in  its  mode  of  expres- 
sion; yet  in  most  respects,  in  beautiful  arrangement,  in  the  com- 
prehensiveness of  its  notes,  in  seizing  accurately  the  true  meaning, 
and  in  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  geography  and  chronology, 
it  ranks  among  the  best  works  of  its  kind.  Robinson's  Greek 
Harmony  has  some  valuable  notes  on  the  location  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  events  of  the  Gospels.  Alford's  Greek  Testament, 
with  notes,  is  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  modern  commentary. 
Trench  on  Miracles  is  a  sterling  work,  entitled  to  rank  among  the 


1856.]    Practical  Hints  far  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.    291 

best  works  of  English  literature.  It  combines  great  eloquence  of 
style  -ffith  a  clear  and  admirable  exposition  of  the  text  and  context. 
Many  passages  are  highly  eloquent.  We  extract  one  from  the 
chapter  on  the  Miracle  of  Water  made  into  Wine:  "  We  need  not 
wonder  to  find  the  Lord  of  life  at  that  festival,  for  he  came  to  sanc- 
tify all  life,  its  times  of  joy  as  its  times  of  sorrow ;  and  all  expe- 
rience tells  us,  that  it  is  times  of  gladness,  such  as  this  was  now, 
which  especially  need  such  a  sanctifying  power,  such  a  presence  of 
the  Lord.  In  times  of  sorrow,  the  sense  of  God's  presence  comes 
more  naturally  out :  in  these,  it  is  in  danger  of  being  forgotten.  He 
was  there,  and  by  his  presence  there,  struck  the  key-note  to  the 
whole  future  tenor  of  his  ministry.  lie  should  not  be  as  another 
Baptist,  to  withdraw  himself  from  the  common  paths  of  men,  a 
preacher  in  the  wilderness ;  but  his  should  be  at  once  a  harder  and  a 
higher  task,  to  mingle  with  and  purify  the  common  life  of  men ;  to 
witness  for  and  bring  out  the  glory  which  was  hidden  in  its  every 
relation.  And  it  is  not,  perhaps,  without  its  significance,  that  this 
should  have  been  especially  a  marriage  whicli  he  '  adorned  and 
beautified  with  his  first  presence  and  miracle  that  he  wrought.' 
He  foresaw  that  some  hereafter  should  arise  in  his  Church  who 
should  despise  marriage,  or,  if  not  despise,  yet  fail  to  give  the 
Christian  family  all  its  honour.  They  should  find  no  countenance 
from  him."  Trench's  work  on  Parables  is  less  valuable,  having  a 
less  difficult  subject ;  that  on  the  Study  of  Words  will  be  useful  to 
the  philologist.  Kitto's  Life  of  our  Lord  is  one  of  the  best  of  his 
publications. 

Liicke  and  Tittmann  are  extensive  and  critical;  Olshausen  and 
Tholuck  will  be  noticed  hereafter.  Ikick  on  the  24th  of  Matthew, 
while  creditable,  as  showing  zeal  in  Biblical  study,  is  greatly  defec- 
tive from  exhibiting  a  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  Avritings  of  the 
most  recent  Biblical  scholars. 

On  Acts,  Hackett  is  so  able  and  full  as  to  leave  scarcely  anytliing 

to  be  supplied.     There  are  some  historical  works,  however,  which 

traverse  the  same  ground,  and  are  invaluable,  viz. :  Couybeare  and 

Howson's  Life   and  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  Schaff's  History  of  the 

.  Apostolic  Church,   and   Neander's  Planting   and  Training  of  the 

\  Church.     The  first  of  these  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  layman 

'  and  every  minister.     As  regards  the  second,  notwithstanding  the 

author's  lenient  views  of  the  Koman  Catholic  Church,  it  is  a  very 

Bcholar-like  performance:  it  covers  a  larger  field  than  the  work  of 

Conybeare  and  Howson,  including,  for  example,  an  account  of  the 

lives  and  writings  of  Peter  and  James,  as  well  as  Paul;  it  is  also 


292  Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.  [April, 

more  full  on  the  moral  and  religious  life,  government,  worship,  and 
doctrines  of  the  Apostolic  Church.  The  merits  of  iSeander  are  gen- 
erally known ;  his  method  is  less  clear  than  Schaffs.  Baumgar- 
ten's  Apostolic  History  is  perhaps  the  best  extant  commentary  on 
the  Acts. 

II,  Bible  Poetry.  On  Hebrew  poetry,  Lowth  is  in  error  from 
his  too  great  fondness  for  the  classical  models ;  Herder's  Spirit  of 
Hebrew  Poetry,  though  not  intended  to  be  a  learned  treatise,  ex- 
hibits a  fine  appreciation  of  the  spirit  of  the  Hebrew  bards. 

On  Job,  the  work  of  Barnes  is  the  only  English  commentary  of 
any  value,  and  this  is  imperfect  in  many  respects.  In  his  Introduc- 
tion, he  aims  to  establish  the  following  points  :  That  Job  was  a  real 
person ;  that  he  lived  in  a  part  of  Arabia  Deserta,  and  not  far  from 
the  age  of  Abraham ;  and  that  the  book  was  written  by  Job  himself. 
His  commentaries  do  not,  on  the  whole,  exhibit  that  compressed  and 
discriminating  method  which  is  tlie  characteristic  of  the  true  inter- 
preter. 

On  the  Psahiis  there  are  two  standard  commentaries,  Hengsten- 
berg's  and  Alexander's.  It  is  incidental  to  the  first  critical  works 
on  any  book  that  there  should  bo  much  space  devoted  to  clearing 
away  the  errors  and  misconceptions  of  former  writers ;  and  such 
discussions  are  not  always  interesting  to  the  general  reader.  This 
fault  is  observable  in  Hcngstenberg's  volumes  on  the  Psalms,  yet 
they  exhibit  good  scholarship,  and  great  fervour  and  originality. 
The  plan  of  l)r.  Alexander  is  to  '•  translate  and  explain,"  with  but 
few  additional  remarks ;  his  plan  in  this  respect  is  excellent,  thus 
excluding  unnecessary  discussions.  Another  task  that  remains  to 
be  accomplished,  with  reference  both  to  the  Psalms  and  the  Old 
Testament  prophecies,  is  to  invest  them  with  the  interest  derived 
from  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  composed.  This  has ' 
been  done  for  the  letters  of  St.  Paul,  by  Messrs.  Conybeare  and 
Howson,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  the  same  may  be  accomplished  for 
the  writings  of  the  Old  Testament.  Hcngstenberg's  well-known 
work,  called  the  Christology,  treats  extensively  of  the  Messianic 
Psalms.  The  Introduction  to  the  Psalms,  by  De  Wette,  in  the 
Biblical  ilepository,  vol.  iii,  may  be  consulted  Avith  advantage. 

Professor  Stuart's  works  on  Proverbs  and  Ecclcsiastes  are  models 
of  commentary  for  the  critical  student,  and  his  carefulness  in  mak- 
ing an  accurate  translation  makes  them  useful  to  all.  They  were 
among  tiie  last  that  he  wrote,  and  exhibit  greater  condensation  than 
his  former  volumes. 

III.  Bible  Prophecy.     The  subject  of  prophecy  is  constantly  be- 


1856.]    Practical  Hiiits  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.    293 

coming  less  involteJ,  as  the  nature  of  symbols  is  receiving  a  fuller 
development,  and  facts  of  history  are  being  brought  to  light  to  illus- 
trate it.  A  complete  work  on  symbology  is  much  needed.  If  the 
nature  and  application  of  the  symbols  in  Daniel  and  Ezekiel,  "which 
have  already  been  fulfilled,  and  concerning  ■which  there  is  but  little 
dispute,  vrere  clearly  understood,  it  -would  scarcely  be  possible  to 
misinterpret  those*that  are  yet  unfulfilled.  Dr.  Turner's  Discourses 
on  Scripture  Prophecy  are  inimitable  as  a  manual  on  the  subject. 
Upon  the  three  subjects  that  are  treated  of  in  Stuarts  Hints  on 
Prophecy,  viz.,  the  Double  Sense,  Intelligibility  of  the  Prophecies, 
and  Designations  of  Time,  it  seems  to  us  he  has  thrown  but  little 
light. 

As  inseparable  parts  of  prophecy  arc  the  two  subjects  of  Typology 
and  Quotations  from  the  Old  Testament  in  the  ISew.  In  the  former 
of  these,  Fairbairn's  Typology  (new  edition)  is  a  rich  mine  of  in- 
formation for  the  Biblical  student.  Though  it  makes  many  things 
to  be  types,  which  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  such,  yet  the  field 
which  it  traverses  is  one  of  unfailing  interest,  and  is  destined  to  yield 
abundant  fruits.  In  this  work,  the  intricate  subject  of  the  double 
sense  is  fully  investigated.  It  is  shown,  for  e.\ample,  that  since 
David  was  a  type  of  Christ,  there  may  be  a  prediction  which  shall 
refer  to  them  both,  to  the  former  primarily,  and  to  the  latter  in  its 
full  accomplishment.  Thus  it  may  be  said  tliat  there  are  not  two 
fulfilments,  but  one,  which  reaches  to  two  persons ;  one  the  type  and 
the  other  the  antitype.  The  subject  of  Quotations  is  of  great  inter- 
est; it  includes  such  questions  as  these:  Which  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment writers  quote  most  from  the  OldV  In  which  instances  do  they 
quote  for  argument,  and  in  which  simply  for  illustration?  Do  they 
quote  more  commonly  from  the  Septuagint  or  from  the  Plebrew 
Bible?  Do  they  more  frequently  give  the  words  of  the  original,  or 
merely  the  sense  ?  Do  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament  accommo- 
date the  words  of  the  Old  Testament  to  their  own  circumstances, 
and  term  it  a  fulfilment?  These  questions  are  investigated  in 
Davidson's  Hermeneutics,  Fairbairn's  Typology-,  Turner  on  Hebrews, 
"chap,  i,  verse  5,  and  Wood's  Lectures,  vol.  i. 

Old  Testataent  Propliecy.  On  Isaiah  the  chief  work  is  Alex- 
ander's, the  plan  of  which  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  one  on  the 
Psalms,  namely,  "to  translate  and  c.\-]»lain."  It  is  a  defect  in  the 
larger  edition,  that  he  dwells  too  nnich  upon  the  false  opinions  of 
others,  and  in  both,  that  there  is  a  want  of  IVcedora  in  expressing 
his  own  views  on  contested  points,  so  th.at  it  is  sometimes  difficult 
to  ascertain  them.     He  considers  that  there  is  ground  in  Isaiah  for 


294  Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.  [April, 

the  belief  in  the  future  conversion  of  the  Jews,  but  none  for  that  of 
their  literal  restoration  to  Palestine.  With  this  agrees  Fairbairn  in 
his  Typology.  The  parts  of  Hengstenberg's  Christology  -which 
comment  on  Isaiah  are  worthy  of  consultation.  Some  valuable 
hints  may  be  drawn  from  Kitto's  Daily  Illustrations  on  Isaiah  and 
the  other  prophets,  and  also  from  the  previous  volumes  on  Saul  and 
David,  and  on  Solomon  and  the  Kings.  Barnes  on  Isaiah  may  be 
used  with  advantage,  though  characterized  by  diffusenes^,  and 
sometimes  commenting  on  phrases  which  were  already  sufficiently 
clear.  The  abridged  edition  is  preferable.  Fairbairn  on  Ezekiel  is 
a  recent  publicaiion  of  much  value ;  it  is  both  popular  and  critical 
in  its  plan.  •' 

The  prophecies  o^  Daniel  are  one  of  the  battle-grounds  of  Biblical 
exegesis.  The  varieties  of  views  held  upon  Daniel  and  Revelation 
are  almost  innumerable,  and  yet  the  student  of  the  Bible  will  not 
rest  satisfied  till  he  has  ascertained  what  the  prominent  opinions  are, 
and  where  the  difficulties  lie.  Stuart's  is  deservedly  a  standard 
work  on  Daniel.  On  the  question  of  the  seventy  weeks,  and  the  three 
periods,  seven,  si.xty-two,  and  one  (which  make  up  the  seventy),  he 
confesses  himself  at  a  stand ;  unnecessarily,  we  think.  The  seventy 
weeks  (Dan  ix.  24),  all  acknowledge  to  be  four  hundred  and  ninety 
years,  and  most  hold  that  the  seven  weeks  (or  forty-nine  years) 
commience  with  the  return  of  Ezra  from  Bab3-lon,  and  continue  to  the 
full  completion  of  the  city  of  Jerusalem  ;  the  sixty-two  Aveeks  (or 
four  hundred  and  thirty-four  years)  to  the  commencement  of  Christ's 
ministry;  and  the  one  week,  to  three  and  a  half  years  after  his 
death.  A  very  able  and  satisfactory  article  on  some  of  the  difficult 
points  in  Daniel  may  be  found  in  the  seventh  volume  of  the  Chris- 
tian Review.  This,  in  agreement  with  Professor  Stuart,  holds  the 
fourth  kingdom  to  be  that  of  the  successors  of  Alexander,  while 
Barnes,  Havernick  and  Hengstenberg  (see  their  works  on  Daniel) 
refer  it  to  Rome;  there  are  many  strong  arguments  in  favour  of  the 
former.  The  designations  of  time  contained  in  Dan.  viii.  14,  and 
Dan.  xii,  11,  12,  viz. :  two  thousand  three  hundred  morning-evening 
sacrifices,  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  ninety  days,  and  one  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  thirty-five  days,  are  referred  best  to  the  last 
days  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes. 

The  want  of  English  commentaries  is  nowhere  felt  so  much  as 
on  the  Minor  Prophets.  The  recent  labours  of  scholars  have  been 
expended  upon  the  larger  books  of  Scripture,  and  the  others  have 
been  neglected.  Hengstenberg's  late  revision  of  his  Christology  gives 
the  best  comments  upon  these  prophecies  yet  made ;  still  they  are 


1856.]    Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.    295 

incomplete,  as  they  elucidate  chiefly  the  Messianic  passages.  Much 
information  upon  them  may  be  gathered  from  the  histories  of  that 
period,  from  introductions  to  the  Old  Testament,  and  from  articles 
in  Kitto's  Cyclopaedia,  and  the  Reviews.  Maurcr's  and  Rosenmucl- 
ler's  Commentaries  on  the  Old  Testament,  in  easy  Latin,  though 
rationalistic,  are  always  valuable,  but  especially  so  here.  Moore 
on  the  Prophets  of  the  Reformation,  just  issued,  is  an  admirable 
specimen  of  commentary.  •         ■      .    ■.      ^  . 

New  Testament  Frophec^j.  On  this  book  (Reveb.tion)  the  most 
diverse  views  are  held.  Professor  fStuart  thinks  that  most  of  the 
symbols  find  their  fulfdment  in  the  first  three  or  four  centuries. 
Hengstenberg  spiritualizes  the  whole;  P>arnes,  Lord,  and  Elliot,  hold 
that  almost  every  great  event  that  has  occurred  since  the  time  of 
the  apostles,  belongs  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  Book  of  Revelation. 
Stuart  seems  to  us  entirely  at  fault ;  his  theory  stands  or  falls  with 
the  question  of  the  early  or  late  writing  of  the  Book  of  Revelation.; 
but  the  best  and  largest  number  of  niodefn  critics  are  strongly  op- 
posed to  the  theory  of  its  late  composition.  Again,  it  would  seem 
impossible  that  all  the  events  symbolized  in  Revelation  could  be 
accomplished  in  so  short  a  period  as  the  first  three  or  four  cen- 
turies. The  arguments  in  Beecher's  Review  of  Stuart  in  the  Bibli- 
cal Repository,  and  in  an  article  by  Cheever  on  the  same  subject, 
seem  to  us  conclusive  against  his  view.  Ilengstcnbcrg's  inter|)reta- 
tion  (in  which  he  is  followed  by  Davidson  of  England)  is  equally 
untenable;  it  is  incredible,  and  contrary  to  the  analogy  of  the 
prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament,  that  so  vast  a  body  of  symbols 
should  be  employed  to  designate  merely  spiritual  states  and  gen- 
eral principles.  Lord,  in  his  work  on  the  Apocalypse,  and  in  his 
Theological  Journal,  is  admirable  in  claiming  that  the  symbols 
should  be  explained  in  a  system  and  according  to  well-defined 
rules,  though  we  tliink  his  own  system  is  greatly  defective.  The 
school  to  which  Banies,  Lord,  and  Elliot  belong,  errs  in  making  the 
Book  of  Ptevelation  too  close  an  opiCunie  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
history.  Barnes  has  done  much  to  clear  up  the  subject ;  his  views 
are  not  as  extreme  as  tliose  of  most  of  his  school  of  interpretation, 
and  there  seems  to  us  more  originality  and  discrimination  than  in 
any  commentary  that  he  has  published.  It  would  be  difiicult  for 
one  to  read  his  exposition  of  the  seven  trumpets,  and  not  believe  that 
the  fifth  refers  to  Mohammed.  On  the  subject  of  the  Millennium,  the 
commentators  are  divided;  Lord  and  ^Vinthrop  holding  to  a  per- 
sonal reign  of  Christ  and  the  saints  on  the  earth,  and  Stuart,  Barnes, 
and  Olshausen  to  a  reign  of  the  risen  saints  with  Christ  in  heaven 


296    Practical  Hints  for  Students  of  Biblical  Literature.   [April, 

during  tlie  Millcnniuin,  and  the  universal  prevalence  of  holiness  dur- 
ing that  time  on  the  earth;  the  latter  view  is  preferable. 

IV.  Eible  Theology,  as  contained  in  the  letters  of  the  apostles. 
The  best  preparation  for  the  understanding  of  the  Epistles  of  St. 
Paul  is  the  study  of  Conybcarc  and  Ho^vson*s  work  nn  Paul, 
Schaffs  Apostolic  History,  and  Neander's  Planting  and  Training 
of  the  Church.  On  Romaics,  Dr.  Clarke  and  ^Vesleyraay  be  studied 
vrith  peculiar  advantage,  especially  on  the  7th  and  9th  chapters. 
;  Taken  as  a  whole,  for  the  general  reader,  the  work  of  Dr.  Turner  of 
the  Episcopalian  Senninary,  ^'cw- York,  is  the  best  on  this  book.  ,  His 
general  treatment  of  the  epistle  is  scientific  and  masterly,  and  in  his 
doctrinal  statements  he  is  for  the  most  part  Arminian.  Professor 
Hodge  advocates  the  views  of  the  old-school  Calvinists,  and  Albert 
Barnes  those  of  the  new  school.  The  critical  discussions  of  Pro- 
fessor Stuart  on  Komans  are  able,  but  cumbersome  and  diffuse'; 
his  views  are  liberal  and  openly  avowed  ;  his  general  summaries  are 
exact  and  comprehensive.  On  Tholuck  and  Olsliausen  v.-e  quote 
from  another.  '•  Tholuck.  Thecommcntariesof  this  eminent  writer 
on  various  books  of  the  xsew  Testament,  especially  those  on  the 
Epistles  to  the  Romans  and  Hebrews,  exhibit  the  highest  exegetical 
excellences.  While  be  critically  investigates  phrases  and  idioms, 
he  ascends  into  the  pure  regions  of  the  ideas,  unfolding  the  sense 
with  much  skill  and  discernment.  His  commentary  on  John  is  of 
a  more  popular  cast.  His  iiiterpretation  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  is  very  valuable.  Olshaiise)!.  The  best  example  of  com- 
mentary on  the  xNew  Testament,  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  has 
teen  given  by  this  writer.  It  is  a  model  of  exposition  unrivalled  in 
any  language.  Verbal  criticism  is  but  sparingly  introduced,  although 
even  here  the  hand  of  a  master  is  apparent.  He  is  intent,  however, 
on  higher  things.  He  investigates  the  thought,  traces  the  connec- 
tion, puts  himself  in  the  same  position  as  the  writers,  and  views 
with  philosophic  ability  the  holy  revelations  of  Christ  in  their  com- 
prehensive tendencies.  The  critical  and  the  popular  are  adiairably 
mingled.  Greatly  do  we  lament  that  the  writer  was  cut  off  before 
he  completed  so  excellent  a  performance."  (His  Commentary  ex- 
tends through  Hebrews,  making  9  vols.)  The  commentaries  which 
have  come  from  authors  in  England,  such  as  Bloomfield's  Greek 
Testament,  Al ford's  Greek  Testament,  Whitby's  Commentary,  and 
Trollope's  Analecta  Theologica,  are  highly  scholar-like,  and,  as 
regards  doctrinal  views,  are  generally  Arminian.  The  comment- 
ary of  Mr.  Livermore,  a  Unitarian,  though  not  critical,  nor  cor- 
rect as  to  doctrine,  is  spiritedly  and  eloquently  written :    the  four 


1S56.]    Practical  Hints  to  Students  in  Biblical  Literature.    297 

Introductory  Essays  are  able  pieces  of  composition  ;  be  is  anti-Cal- 
vinistic  in  sentiment.  On  Hebrews,  Turner's  is  again  the  clearest  I 
exposition,  and  after  liim,  Stuart,  Olshauscn,  Tlioluck,  Alford,  ' 
Uarnes,  Trollope,  and  Bloomfield.  For  the  shorter  epistles,  the 
chief  dependence  is  upon  Olshausen,  Barnes,  Alford,  and  Trollope. 
To  Thorn  on  Corinthians,  nearly  the  same  remarks  are  applicable 
as  to  Livermore  on  Romans.  Eadie  of  Scotland  is  the  author  of 
critical  commentaries  on  Colossiansand  Ephesians  ^Yhich  have  been 
reprinted  in  this  country.  Neander's  three  commentaries  on  Thiiip- 
piaus,  General  Epistle  of  James,  and  First  Epistle  of  John,  trans- 
lated by  }*Ir3.  H.  C.  Conant,  are  of  a  popular  character,  but  yet 
deeply  philosophical  and  discriminating.* 

"  As  many  of  the  books  mentioned  aboYO  arc  rare,  and  their  value  not  easily 
ascertained,  we  annex  a  list  of  prices,  at  -which  they  can  be  procured  by  minis- 
ters: they  may  be  had  at  about  these  rates  of  Gould  and  Lincoln,  Boston  : 

Bibliotheca  Sacra,  10  vols.,  S2o  50 ;  Alexander  on  Psalms,  3  vols.,  $2  75 ; 
Altxandcr  on  Isaiah,  2  vols.,  $1  SO;  Hcngstonhcrg  on  Kevdations,  2  vols.,  §2  67; 
do.  Christol&gy,  1  vol.,  new  edition,  $1  G7  ;  do.  on  r.-r-alms,  3  vols.,  85  00;  Stuart 
on  Romans,  .^2  00 ;  do.  on  Hebrews,  s2  2,") ;  do.  on  Proverbs,  .$0  91 ;  do.  on  Ec- 
cleiiastes,  $0  7-3 ;  do.  on  Daniel,  ?1  87  ;  do.  on  Apocalypse,  2  vols.,  ^3  25  ;  Bush 
on  Genesis,  2  vols.,  SI  31  ;  do.  on  Exodus,  2  vols.,  si  12 ;  do.  on  Leviticus,  §0  56 ; 
do.  on  Joshua  and  .Judges,  each,  80  50;  HaclvT-tt  on  Acts.  .?]  87  ;  ^McClelland  on 
Interpretation,  -^0  CO;  Winer's  Idioms  of  the  Greek  Testament,  S2  00;  Nevin's 
Biblical  Antitiuities,  ^■O  75 ;  Jahn's  Aroh.vology,  .si  75 ;  Trench  on  Miracles, 
SI  25;  do.  on  Parables,  $1  25;  do.  ou  Greek  Synonyms  of  New  Testament, 
$0  oG ;  Barnes  on  the  New  Testament,  .^0  CO  per  volume ;  do.  on  Job,  ^1  80 ; 
do.  on  Daniel,  $0  90;  do.  on  Isaiah,  2  vol.-.,  si  .^0;  Hug's  Introduction  to  New 
Testament,  >-2  25 ;  Neauder  on  John,  James,  and  PhHii>piaus,  $1  25  ;  Tholuck 
on  John,  SI  75;  do.  on  PtomaJis,  $1  75;  do.  on  ILbrows  ;  $1  75;  Turner  ou 
Romans,  .^1  20;  do.  on  Hebrews,  -sl  00;  Do  AVettc's  Introduction  to  Old  Test- 
ament, J2  81;  Kitto's  CyclopcoJia,  2  vols.,  ?5  50;  Fairbairn's  Typology,  new- 
edition,  82  25 ;  do.  on  Ezekiel,  SI  65 ;  Strong's  Harmony,  S2  10 ;  Olshausen's 
Commentaries,  9  vols.,  $1  65  each ;  Conybeare  and  Howson's  Life  and  Epistles 
of  Paul,  2  vols.,  Si  .50;  Kcviscd  version  of  IVtcr,  P^evelation,  &€.,  §0  75;  Lord 
on  Apocalj^pse, -sl  CO;  Davidson's  Introduction  to  New  Testament,  3  vols.,  S9  50; 
Ncand.jr's  Life  of  Chriit,  si  CO;  Livcrm-Mri.'  en  ItMiuans.  >■()  d');  Troll ^iie's  Ana- 
lecta  Theologica,  2  vols.,  S2  25  ;  Robinson's  Greek  Lexicon  of  the  New  Testament, 
cloth  binding,  $3  80  ;  Hahn's  Greek  Testament,  j;l  00 ;  Gesenius'  Hebrew  Gram- 
mar, ,>2  00;  do.  Hebrew  Lexicon,  §1  i>'^ ;  Hahn's  Hebrew  Bible,  .^2  25;  'Win- 
thvop's  Essay  on  Symbols,  80  CO;  Turner  on  Prophecy,  sO  CO;  Kurtz's  Sacred 
History,  $1  00;  Coleman's  Biblical  Geography  and  History,  -81  3":  Schaff's 
History  of  the  Apostolic  Church,  S2  50;  Davidson's  Ilermcneutics,  ^i  00. 

Fourth  Series,  Vul.  A^IIL— 10 


298  Correspondence.  [April, 


Akt.  IX.— correspondence. 

I.    RFX^ENT  FRENCH  LITERATURE.    .      .-■•-'> 

Paris,  February,  1856. 

To  THE  EuiTon, — TiiK  legei^  silent  inter  anna  applies  to  books,  it  seems, 
as 'well  as  laws.  Even  intellectual  Paris  owns  the  dominion  of  the  Crimea 
fever,  and  is  turned  from  the  libraries  to  the  newspapers;  or,  perhaps 
rather,  it  is  looking,  and  only  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  getting  back  the 
eyes  or  purses  of  the  public.  At  all  events,  no  publications  of  any  consequence 
have  appeared  of  late,  and  the  publishers  are  chiefly  occupied  with  new  edi- 
tions of  the  "  French  Classics."  - 

From  the  few  original  things  issued,  I  select,  however,  three  or  four  of  such 
as  may  be  of  most  interest  to  your  readers.  The  first  in  rank  is  a  small  volume 
of  some  350  pages,  entitled  "  The  Future  Life  :  History  and  Apology  of  the 
Christian  Doctrine  in  a  Future  State."  {La  Vie  Future.  Histoire  et  Apologie 
de  la  Doctrine  Chrc'liennc  sur  I' Autre  Vie,  par  Th.  Henri  Martin.)  You  infei; 
immediately  that  a  production  of  such  a  title  can,  in  profane  France,  be  but 
the  threadbare  lucubration  of  a  lazy  monk  or  a  country  cure'.  But  you  are 
mistaken ;  the  author  is  a  lay  professor  in  a  college  of  provincial  distinction, 
and  a  historian  of  the  "  Physical  Sciences  in  Antiquity" — that  is,  historian  in 
futuro,  as  he  has  not  yet  published.  You  may  form  some  opinion  of  his  pro- 
fessions from  the  tone  and  terms  of  the  following  opening : 

"  For  three  years  back,  -svithout  interrupting  ruy  history  of  the  Physical  Sci- 
ences in  .Antiquity,  I  have  felt  tlie  need  of  recurring  occasionally  to  the  reading 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  in  quest  of  the  consolation  become  necessary  to  my  heart. 
This  perusal  has  prcsontod  me  some  sublime  hopes  of  a  future  life,  not  only  in  the 
New  Testament,  in  which  they  so  abound,  but  also  in  the  Old,  wherein  they 
occupy  a  lesser  place,  and  especially  the  books  of  Closes,  whereto  they  have  often 
been  traced.  Upon  this  creat  question  of  the  destiny  of  man  beyond  the  grave, 
I  have  seen  in  the  Bible  throughout,  in  the  fathers,  in  the  councils,  in  the  Catho- 
lic theology,  one  and  the  same  doctrine,  at  once  terrible  and  consoling,  a  doc- 
trine founded  upon  supernatural  revelation,  transcending  the  data  of  reason 
■without  contradicting  them,  and,  ou  the  contrary,  supplying  their  insufficiency." 
—Preface. 

Now,  if  I  have  any  skill  In  seeing  a  wolf  through  a  sheep's  covering,  the 
writer  of  this  introduction  is  a  dubious  convert  to  the  Roman  Catholic  fold.  A 
convert  is  not  usually  so  moderate,  so  measured,  so  cosmopolitan  in  his  spirit, 
so  universal  in  his  approbation.  Like  Shakspeare's  Jacques,  this  writer  en- 
counters orthodo.xy  everywhere,  in  the  Bible,  in  the  Gospel,  In  the  fathers,  in 
the  councils.  Neither  Protestants,  nor  Catholics,  nor  Jansenists,  nor  Galilean 
Churchmen,  then,  can  complain  of  his  exclusiveness,  or  will  decline  to  buy 
his  book.  And,  then,  the  seemingly  casual  mention  of  his  being  a  wTlter  on 
the  plnji^ical  sciences  is  a  stroke  quite  worthy  of  a  countryman  of  Beaumarchals 
and  Le  Sage. 

But  these  conjectures,  from  the  manner  of  the  author  to  his  motives,  are, 
even  if  well-founded,  meant  to  give  you  a  characteristic  illustration  of  the  situ- 


1856. J  Recent  French  Literature.  299 

atton  of  things  in  Fi-ance  with  respect  to  the  so-called  religious  revival.  The 
book  is  none  the  less  worthy  of  perusal.  It  seems  written  with  much  sacred 
and  scientific  erudition.  The  author  shows  himself  largely  conversant  with 
even  British  controversial  writings,  if  I  may  judge  frou)  the  citations  in  the 
notes.  Nay,  American  theologians  are  not  entirely  overlooked.  A  list  of  the 
main  topics  will  give  the  best  idea  both  of  tlie  turn  and  the  tenor  of  the  work. 

He  maintains  that  the  Hebrew  writers — despite  our  notion  of  the  Saddu- 
cces — cannot  have  been  in  ignorance  of  the  doctrine  of  immortality,  and  un- 
dertakes to  evince  the  reasons  for  the  esoteric  sort  of  my.-tery  where^\-itli  the 
dogma  was  enveloped  in  the  most  ancient  of  the  sacred  writings.  In  pursu- 
ance of  this  undertaking,  he  examines  the  conception  of  a  future  life  accord- 
ing to  the  Pentateuch.  He  passes  next  to  the  Book  of  Job ;  then  to  the 
books  anterior  to  the  Babylonish  captivity.  The  ensuing  chapter  pursues 
the  thesis  along  to  the  birth  of  Christ.  The  result  of  all  this  is  shown  to  be 
invariable  unity  and  originality  in  the  Biblical  doctrine  on  the  subject ;  the 
originalitij  alluding  to  comparison  with  the  heathen  doctrine.  Then  follows  a 
comparison  of  the  two  doctrines  of  immortality,  the  Biblical  and  evau'^eHcal 
t-ersus  the  pagan,  and  a  conclusion  of  the  general  superiority  of  the  former. 
He  closes  Part  First  with  a  description  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  adjusted  to 
the  hypothesis  of  a  plurality  of  worlds. 

In  Part  Second  M.  Martin  resumes  his  theme  of  a  future  world,  and  the 
immortality  of  the  human  soul  as  propounded  in  the  Gospel.  With  this  doc- 
trine as  expounded  in  the  Gospel,  and  by  the  Catholic  Church,  he  then  com- 
pares the  pagan  metempsychosis  The  comparison  is  traced  in  order  through 
the  councils  and  the  fatliers.  The  writer  passes  aficrwards  to  the  dogma  of 
original  sin,  and  to  the  successive  creation  of  souls,  fur  both  of  which  he  offer? 
an  explanation  and  an  "  npology,"  giving,  doubtlo-s.  to  the  word  apology  the 
special  import  of  the  ancient  fathers.  He  does  a  similar  double  service  for  the 
dogma,  much  less  knotty,  of  the  eternity  of  rewards  and  punishments.  Then, 
returning  to  metempsychosis,  he  rejudges  by  it  philosophy,  after  having  before 
condemned  it  at  the  theological  tribunals.  After  this  new  trial,  it  is  co- 
ordinated with  Catholic  doctrine  and  Cliristian  morality,  in  a  closing  com- 
parison with  science  and  social  progress. 

Here,  again,  we  see  the  Frenchman  peer  out  soclalhj  at  the  end,  and  bring 
within  his  ductile  charity  not  only  all  the  sects  of  religion,  nor  even  the  scep- 
tics of  science,  but  the  very  Socialists  tl,cni-c!vcs.  lUit.  after  all,  the  bcok 
must  merit  the  attention  of  religious  readers.  From  its  size,  I  should  judge 
the  price  to  be  not  more  than  some  four  francs.  It  may  be  had,  with  the 
others  following,  through  Hector  B-'ssnnge  ct  /-V/s,  ."^tG  Pearl-street,  New  York. 

I  may  inform  you,  by  way  of  interlude,  that  the  twelfth  and  last  volume 
of  Thiers'  "  History  of  the  Consulate  and  Empire  "  has  just  appeared,  and 
seems  to  be  what  in  America  you  call  the  "  book  of  the  ser.son  ;"  I  say,  by  way 
of  interlude,  for  Thiers  is  a  real  harlequin  in  history,  as  in  politics  and  in  person. 
This  by  no  rae:\ns  excludes  talent,  but  defines  it  in  degree  and  nature,  and 
characterizes  it  as  aping  with  a  burlesque  r!cverncs5  the  loftiest  parK  M. 
Thiers  prefaces  this  volume  with  a  prolerjomenous  dissertation  to  teach  the  world 
the  art  and  mystery  of  writing  history.    This  is  not,  it  seems,  as  wc  were  taught 


300  Co7respondefice.  [April, 

it  by  tbe  patrician  disdain  and  the  subtle  pbilosopliy  of  Bolingbroke  ;  nor 
as  it  had  been  exemplified  in  the  terse  and  truculent  style  of  Tacitus,  that 
magic  lantern  of  the  human  heart,  -whose  every  syllable  reflects  an  image  ;  nor 
as  set  off  in  the  flowing  costume  of  the  "  pictured  page  "  of  the  graceful  Livy. 
No  ;  ^I.  Thiers'  receipt  for  ^Tiung  it  is,  bare  facts,  and  no  style ;  for  tliis 
L'  clearly  the  simple  meaning  of  his  description  to  this  ciVect,  that  it  should  be 
such  as  to  never  call  to  it  the  notice  of  the  reader.  In  other  words,  that  its 
(character  should  be  to  have  no  character  at  all.  But  these  are  the  stylo  and 
i:.r.tter,  not  of  history,  but  of  newspapers.  They  are  exactly  those  of  'M.  Thiers 
himself,  as  might  have  been  expected,  since  he  never  drew  a  precept  or  a 
portrait  from  any  other,  and  miglit,  accordingly,  be  defined  a  journalist  historian. 
It  is  this  instinct  of  self-portraiture  that  may  have  led  him  to  an  observation, 
the  only  one  tltat  has  a  tincture  of  freshness  in  his  long  preamble,  il.  Thiers, 
like  all  men  without  principles,  has  a  vast  opinion  of  his  own  practical  good 
sense.  This  assumption  consoles  his  class  for  their  theoretic  imbecility,  and 
serves,  besides,  as  a  readier  counterfeit  to  pass  upon  the  multitude.  Well,  M. 
Thiers,  no  doubt  intending  to  adorn  the  genius  of  Napoleon  by  the  insertion 
in  it  of  an  attribute  belonging  to  his  own,  has  fallen  on  the  profound  truth, 
that  the  great  distinction  of  the  great  emperor  was  to  be  Vt.'^prit  le  plus  .«knse 
of  the  human  race.  This  single  stroke,  as  a  dijj'crentia  of  the  -genius  of  Na- 
poleon, is  worth  the  libraries  that  have  been  writte.n  on  his  character.  But 
ill  Tliiei-s  it  was  accidental,  or  but  inspired  by  self-conceit. 

Accordingly,  the  instant  after,  and  under  shelter  of  the  concession,  he 
turns  to  blame  the  same  Napoleon,  "  the  most  sensible  of  mankind,"  for  the 
impolicy  and  despotism  of  his  government !  Is  not  this  charming  logic  ?  But 
it  is  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the  mental  character  of  M.  Thiers,  which,  like 
liis  own  ideal  of  writing  history,  consists  in  having  none  at  alL  And  yet  such 
is  the  man  to  rise,  and  keep  afloat  amid  conliicting  billows,  in  certain  goveru- 
raoutal  forms  of  society. 

A  work  that  may  be  reconuncnded  for  its  subject  as  well  as  its  sohdity  is  a 
lile  of  the  once-celebrated  Rimus.  (Ramus,  sa  Vie,  ses  Ecrits  et  ses  Oj.inions, 
par  Charles  WadcUngton,  1  vol.,  Svo.)  Ramus,  as  you  know,  was  the  predecessor 
of  Lord  Bacon  in  the  crusade  against  the  syllogistic  logic  of  Aristotle,  or  rather, 
iu  reality,  against  its  travesty  by  the  schoolmen.  For  this  attack  he  suffered 
t'.ie  proscription  of  the  French  governmc'Ut,  which,  to  its  honour  h<^  it  said, 
Las  always  sustained  the  sounder  of  the  two  great  ancients,  who  disputed  for 
twenty  centuries  the  education  of  the  mind  of  Europe.  The  restless  Ba- 
mus  next  incurred  a  persecution  much  more  serious,  by  his  religious  seces- 
sion to  the  Huguenots.  Exiled  on  this  account,  he  returned  secretly  to 
France,  and  perished  in  the  netarious  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

AVith  after  generations  it  has,  however,  remained  a  question,  what  was  the 
motive,  and  who  the  instigator  of  his  murder  ?  Some  would  have  it,  that  the 
king  ordered  It  directly;  others,  diat  it  was  accomplished  by  a  revolt  of  the 
students,  in  resentment  of  the  attacks  of  their  professor  upon  Aristotle.  But 
another  version  gained  more  credit  with  the  progress  of  time  and  light.  Tliis 
attributed  the  murder,  or,  more  strictl}',  its  instigation,  to  a  rival  prc'fessor, 


1856.]  Recent  French  Literature.  301 

named  Charpentier,  who,  jealous  of  the  brilliancy  and  the  popularity  of  Ra- 
mus, took  occaiion  of  the  confusion  to  remove  an  object  that  overshadowed 
him,  and  then  diffused  the  other  storie:=  to  mislead  opinion  on  the  subject. 
This  is  the  view  adopted  by  the  biographer  before  'tis  ;  and  he  maintains  it 
Tvith  a  fair  amount  of  docmnentary  evidence  to  back  the  moral  or  intrinsic 
probability. 

M.  Waddfngton  does  none  the  less,  however,  persevere  in  the  old  refrain. 
of  making  llamus  the  hero  and  martyr  of  j)hilosophical  and  religious  liberty. 
But  to  explain  the  inconsistericy,  and.  if  possible,  to  excuse  it,  it  will  he  requi- 
site to  note  the  origin  and  spirit  of  the  undertaking.  M.  Waddington  confesses. 
or  rather  announces  with  ostentation,  that  his  project  had  proceeded  from 
the  famous  Victor  Cousin,  and  was  conceived  in  those  palmy  days  when  the 
great  high-priest  of  Eclecticism  overrode  the  tricky  weakness  and  the  pedan- 
tic ministrj'  of  Louis  Philippe.  Cousin,  who  is  ouvwardly  an  awkward  and 
insidious  jumble  of  simplicity  and  shrewdness,  which  is  the  habitual  reflex- 
ion of  a  cracked  and  crooked  intellect — Cousin,  I  say,  congregated  around 
the  altar  of  his  vanity  the  college  witlings,  aspiring  to  fame,  the  litterateurs 
looking  to  the  Academy,  the  profcssoi-s  in  need  of  chairs,  and  the  politicians 
out  of  place,  and  fed  their  hopes  as  well  as  minds  with  a  philosophy  no  leso 
motley.  Part  of  the  tactics,  as  well  as  instinct,  of  the  so-called  philosophy 
consisted  in  republishing  the  insurrectionary  writings  of  certain  French- 
men who  were  reputed  to  have  revolted,  in  the  past,  against  the  authority 
of  religion,  or  philosophy,  or  reason.  Not  that  the  new  editions,  left  in  their 
Latin  original,  could  be  reputed  to  be  read  more  generally  than  before. 
The  inlluence  of  the  sect  insured  a  sale  to  pay  tlic  printing.  The  proSt 
to  Cousin  was  a  fresh  occasion  of  laudation  from  tlio  thousand  chairs  of  the 
University,  the  myriad  organs  of  the  {tre^s,  and  the  shc-.faran<s  of  the  saloons 
of  the  capital.  The  share  devolved  to  the  retainers  was  the  text  supplied 
them  by  the  "new  work"  for  declamation,  in  all  imri'jinable  modes  of  pen  and 
tongue,  upon  the  blessings  of  radical  liberty,  the  infallibility  of  the  Ego,  (that 
is  to  say,  of  each  one's  own  Ego,  all  dissenting  ones  being  absurd,)  the  saci-ed 
duty  of  resistance  to  all  authority  whatever,  tfcc,  \c.;  and  the  result  of  which 
•was,  to  bi-ing  up  the  government  to  "  settle  "  with  the  most  formidable,  that  is, 
flippant  of  the  declaimers. 

Such  was  the  political  economy  of  Eclecticism.  As  a  phase  of  the  human 
mind,  it  would  be  perhaps  best  defined  to  be  a  .«ort  of  Pietism  in  impiety.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  famous  founder,  in  the  decline  of  his  years  and  system,  has 
turned  to  inditing  sentimental  biogra[)hies  of  the  most  notable  or  noble  ]Mag- 
dalenes  of  the  said  sect  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

But  in  the  palmy  days  alluded  to.  Cousin  betrayed  less  feebly  the  merely 
literarj-  calibre  of  his  talent.  After  making  a  translation  of  Plato,  (from 
Schleiermacher.)  a  selection  whl^di  again  disphys  the  sympathy  in  question, 
he  republished  an  edition,  in  the  ilrst  place,  of  Abelard,  then  a  like  collection 
of  the  works  of  Descartes,  and  was  finally  engaged,  when  Louis  Philippe  broke 
down  under  him,  in  collecting  for  the  same  object  the  prLvluctions  of  llamus. 
Here,  abandoning  the  undertaking — though  one  could  scarcely  imagine  why, 
•without  the  hints  of  the  preceding  e.-^planation — M.  Cousin  has,  it  seems,  en- 


302  Correspondejice.  [April, 

couraged  M.  WadJington,  a  disciple,  to  the  present  publication  as  a  sort  of 
substitute.  It  is  no  -nondcr,  then,  if  the  impulsion  given  by  the  master  should 
fall  Into  odds -with  the  historical  veracity  of  the  pupil.  Lut  j\I.  Cousin  has  con- 
tributed something  better  to  the  volume,  in  a  complete  catalogue  of  the  vast 
and  various  protluctions  of  Ramus.  And  this  great  service  he  has  also  ren- 
dered by  the  oth-jr  similar  compilations.  For,  if  men  iviil  only  labour  la-\vfully, 
the  product  will  be  always  useful,  despite  the  motives  of  the  author,  or  even 
the  errors  of  his  system,  the  economy  of  providence  and  nature  making  this 
necessary.  The  distinction  to  be  observed  is,  to  assign  the  credit  or  extenua- 
tion to  this  great  principle  which  transmutes  vanity  and  quackery  to  things  of 
value,  and  to  strip  the  person  of  the  borrowed  plumage  with  which  he  has 
been  decked  by  the  public  ignorance.  A  mass  of  rags  upon  a  pole,  though 
without  much  intrinsic  value,  becomes  by  position  of  real  utility  as  a  scare-crow. 

As  to  llamus  himself,  I  conceive  his  merit  also  to  be  much  exacucrated. 
His  fam.e,  which,  like  most  others  of  the  kind,  is  but  traditional,  arose,  I  think, 
from  the  occurrences  of  his  life  just  alluded  to.  In  the  first  place,  the  suspension 
of  his  lectures  by  the  government;  then  his  change  of  religion,  and  expulsion 
from  the  kingdom ;  and  finally,  and  above  all,  the  catastrophe  of  his  death. 
It  was  his  death,  more  than  his  life,  that  made  Socrates,  too,  immortal.  Not 
only  is  the  French  sufTorer  esteemed  a  martyr  to  the  same  cause ;  he  was, 
moreover,  intertwisted  v.-ith  two  other  parties  of  the  country,  who  retained, 
for  a  long  time  after,  a  factious  motive  of  commemoration.  Add  to  these 
things  an  eruditiou  that  was  eminent  lor  that  age,  and  an  eloquence  that  v.-ould 
be  honoured  in  our  own,  and  you  have  the  halo  that  w;is  ditJ'used  around  liis 
weaknesses  and  his  nnsfortunes  t^om  the  popular  imagination,  by  the  spurious 
name  of  genius. 

I  can  speak  in  this  respect  with  entire  confidence  of  Ramus.  I  have 
recently  had  an  occasion  to  examine  liis  works;  a  predicament  not  perhaps 
common  to  all  the  critics  who  talk  of  Ramus.  I  am  astonished  at  his 
utter  destitution,  not  of  all  theory,  which,  I  presume,  he  could  not  have  pos- 
sessed of  his  own  ;  but  of  bold,  empirical  innovation,  for  which  I  always  had 
seen  him  celebrated.  His  objections  to  Aristotle  arc  for  the  most  part  })e- 
dantic  carping?,  which  he  steals  the  means  of  making  from  other  writings 
of  the  author  nil^blcd  at ;  a  mode  of  warfare  also  followed  by  another  sound- 
ing name,  which,  though  less  empty  than  that  of  Ramus,  is  due  a  good  deal  to 
the  like  intlation.  The  only  novelty  of  the  J'ronch  reiormer  lies  in  his  prin- 
ciples of  division.  As  Aristode  preterred  the  triad,  for  which  the  Frenchman 
perceived  no  reason,  the  latter  deemed  it  a  safe  distinction  to  take  the  blvary 
distribution,  which  he  has  pushed  through  all  the  sciences,  arts,  mysteries, 
and  even  some  languages,  with  an  extravagant  distortion  of  all  nature,  truth, 
and  history.  This  tortuosity  is  best  detected  in  the  application  to  geometry, 
of  which  the  nature  is  more  palpable  and  the  conception  more  precise,  and 
wherein  the  trinary  division  had  prevailed  spontaneously  throughout.  But 
though  this  unmasked  him  and  his  system  to  the  more  intelligent  of  his  day, 
yet  the  gaudy  display  of  his  whole  Ibunt  of  "genealogical  trees"  of  science 
"was  well  adapted  to  impose  upon  such  savants  as  ^f.  Cousin. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  has  astonished  me  no  less  in  Ramus  than  his  in- 


1856,],  Recent  French  Literature.  303 

anity,  is  the  strange  elegance  of  his  Latinity  and  the  graceful  freedom  of  hii 
style.  There  is  no  doubt  that  these  accomplishments,  wherein,  in  fact,  he 
scarcely  yielded  to  the  Italian  "  Ciceroiiians  "  of  Leo  X.,  went  also  largely  to 
the  construction  of  his  temporary  reputation.  But  what  surjtrised  me  above 
all  was  to  find  the  iromj  of  the  Frenchman  in  full  maturity  an  entire  century 
before  Pascal;  not,  to  be  sure,  that  intense  irony  which  seems  to  mitigate  bv 
self-amusement  the  ebullition  of  the  fierce  intellect  and  indiijfnation  of  the 
great  ascetic.  The  irony  of  Ramus  is  much  more  national,  without  resent- 
ment, without  conviction,  and  intended  mainly,  it  would  seem,  for  show. 
For  instance,  his  objections  to  Aristotle  are  never  open.  They  are  regularly 
made  -svith  an  accompanying  apology.  At  one  time  it  is  the  schoolmen  that 
have  mistaken  the  great  master;  anon,  it  is  the  old  scholiasts  that  must  have 
tampered  with  the  text.  Again,  it  is  some  careless  copyist  that  doubtless  muti- 
lated an  expression  which  had  been  perfect  in  sense  and  science  in  the  original ; 
another  time,  it  is  a  whole  treatise  that  must  infaUlbly  be  supposititious,  as  the 
prince  of  all  philoso^^hers  could  not  have  written  such  downright  nonsense,  &c. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  necessity  of  this  manoeuvring  has  been  attested  by 
the  rebuke  received  by  Ramus,  notwithstanding  ;  and  I  should  say  so  too, 
were  there  a  specious  cfibrt  to  disguise.  But  the  pretended  extenuations  are 
so  puerilely  transparent  that  they  could  not  jtossibly  have  been  expected  to 
deceive.  Indeed,  their  great  defect  of  art  is  to  seek  too  little  to  conceal  it; 
and,  on  the  contrary,  to  be  pedantically  anxious  to  parade  wit.  And  yet  you 
cannot  call  the  thing  pedantic,  for  your  lite.  The  irony  of  a  pedant  has  alwavs 
bile  as  well  as  ponderosity ;  and  that  of  Ramus  is  all  millc  and  mansuetude  ; 
a  sort  of  lemonade  of  the  confectionary  of  criticism.  It  is  strikinijly  charac- 
teristic of  his  nation  and  his  race.  So  are  equally  the  combined  petulance, 
presumption,  and  superciliousness  that  stimulated  his  attacks  upon  Aristotle, 
as  well  as  also  the  redeeming  qualities  of  grace,  eloquence,  and  method. 

I  have  now  to  enlertiln  at  once  the  lay  and  medical  of  your  readers,  who 
may  be  interested  in  the  popular  subject  of  Homoeopathy.  A  consistory  of 
these  new  lights  met  last  summer  at  Bordeaux,  paraded  reports,  declaimed 
speeches,  (which  is  no  more  than  you  can  do  in  America,)  but  vround  up  with 
the  French  addition  of  a  sumptuous  ban(juet,  "  in  honour  of  Hahnemann." 
This  was  done  with  so  much  eclat  that  it  roused  the  ire  of  the  old  practition- 
ers. A  champion  of  the  latter,  ]\I.  I'.  A.  Manec,  ancien  profrsseur,  &c.,  an- 
cien  chintrr/icn,  &r.,  comes  forth  in  consoijuonce  with  a  {vlAi  onslaught  of 
some  three  hundred  furious  pages,  entitled  Lcllre.^  sur  VHoiuccopalhie,  ou  Ref- 
utation complete  de  cette  methodc  curative.  (Letters  on  Homoeopathy,  or  a 
complete  Refutation  of  that  curative  mtlhixl.) 

I  have  called  the  onslaught  fresli,  alluding  chiefly  to  the  publication,  for  the 
arguments,  as  far  as  I  had  time  to  read,  appeared  scarcely  new.  The  abusive- 
ness  appeared  to  me  more  novel  in  a  1  ronch  writer.  It  is  prefaced  by  the 
following  motto  from  an  eminent  French  physician :  "  Homoeopathy  is  a 
medical  system,  which  proceeds  on  the  unknown,  which  proposes  to  itself  the 
impossible,  and  v/hich  produces  but  mi-chiet'."  This,  you  see,  is  an  ominous 
prelude.  I  pass  at  once  to  the  conclusion,  to  convey  as  succinctly  as  possible 
some  general  conception  of  the  strain  and  value  of  the  work. 


\ 

304  Correspondence.  [April, 

The  author,  before  proceeding  to  the  task  of  sununing  up,  takes  the  precau- 
tion to  protest  that  he  doijs  not  intend  to  deny  absolutely  all  truth  to  the  sect 
■who  follow  the  maxim  siinilia  simillbus  ;  he  only  claims  more  truth  for  the  con- 
flicting rule  of  contraries ;  which  is  not,  perhaps,  very  logical  at  bottom.  But  all 
the  practical  applications  of  the  JIonuEopathist  j  he  finds  absurd.  He  concludes 
then  against  them  in  substance  as  follows :  That  maladies  are  not,  as  Hahn- 
emann will  have  it,  inmiaterial  essences ;  for  if  so,  material  medicines  could 
have  no  action  upon  them.  (This,  I  think,  is  a  decided  non  sequif.ur.)  That 
maladits  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  consisting  of  the  mere  external  group  of 
symptoms,  but  as  the  result  of  a  deeper  cause ;  -which  lurking  cause,  and  not 
the  symptoms,  is  what  the  physician  should  aim  to  extirpate.  That  to  make 
each  case  a  different  malady,  requiring  special  treatment,  would  be  to  do  away 
"  with  all  experience  " —  (a  proposition  which,  though  partly  true,  is  generally 
awkward  as  an  argument,  since,  on  the  coutrary,  it  is  experience  that  thus  in- 
clines to  individualizing.)  That  the  division  of  chronic  maladies  by  the  Homce- 
opaths  Is  arbitrary;  consequently,  that  the  curative  system  thence  deduced 
must  be  defective  practically.  That  the  alleged  similarity  between  the  pathog- 
enetic and  the  pathologic  systems  can  never  be  complete ;  consequently,  that 
the  principle  of  <<im'ilia  simillbus  can  never  be  anything  but  words — (the 
simpler  rea<ler  mav  require  to  know,  that  th.e  pathogenetic  system  means  the 
process  whereby  Homoeopathists  produce  or  generate  malady;  or  a  set  of 
symptoms  resembling  those  presented  by  the  illness  to  be  cured,  and  that 
the  putLologic  system  is  the  learned  term  for  the  latter.)  Our  author  pro- 
ceeds to  sum  up,  that  tlio  dilutions  of  the  HomcTiopathists  must  in  the  last 
degree  transcend  the  lowc.-t  atomic  divisibility  ;  consequently,  that  the  medi- 
cal efuclcacy  must  be  null.  That  Honv-Kopathlsts  arc  inconsistent,  seeing 
that  tlieir  principle  demands  a  specific  for  every  distinct  case  of  illness  to 
which  the  human  Uesh  is  heir,  whereas  they  have  but  twenty  or  thirty  in 
their  vrholc  materia  medica.  That  the  method  which  pretends  to  cure  a  cer- 
tain order  of  diseases  by  inoculation  with  the  same  virus,  or  the  tape-worm 
by  the  tape-worm,  and  which  is  termed  Isopathy,  is  "  Homojopathy  run 
mad ;"  (and  yet  a  treatise  of  two  large  volumes  appeared  some  time  ago  in 
this  city,  filled  with  cases  of  alleged  cures  upon  the  former  of  these  '"insane" 
princq)lcs.)  That,  in  a  word,  "  the  Ilahnemannic  doctrine  reposes  upon  false 
assertions,  and  upon  principles  that  are  absurd,  ridiculous,  and  contradictory." 

This  literal  version  will  give  a  taste  of  the  Fronch  aiycnity  of  the  writer. 
He  admits,  however,  that  there  may  be  "  some  honest  persons  in  the  practice 
of  this  molecular  and  cloudy  issue  from  the  dream-land  of  Teutonism ;  but 
that,  in  general,  it  is  the  refuge  of  mountebanks  and  scoundrels."  I  must 
protest  against  the  truth  as  well  iis  form  of  this  invective,  in  the  name  of 
our  own  republic,  where  Homoeopathy  is  in  large  repute.  Besides  the  tcii- 
timony  of  this  experience,  T  think  the  author  is  scarcely  competent  to  sit  in 
philosophic  judgment  upon  either  Allopathy  or  Homoeopathy.  But  this  is  not 
the  place  to  discuss  a  question  of  that  nature.  I  conclude  with  notifying  the 
reader  that  the  foregoing  scries  of  assertions  arc  attempted  to  be  duly  proved 
throuiihout  the  bodv  of  the  work. 


1856.]  Higher  Education  in  Germany.  305 


n.   HIGHER  EDUCATION  IN  GERM  AXT.         r*"  '        ■'^- 

Bepo-ix,  November  27th,  1855. 
Mr.  Editor, — The  UniTersities  of  Germany  have  probably  a  more  ex- 
tended influence  than  those  of  any  other  country.  Unlike  the  renowned 
institutions  at  Cambridge  and  Oxford,  they  arc  closed  to  no  class  of  the  com- 
munity; and  they  are  freely  open,  also,  to  citizens  of  all  other  countries.  But 
not  only  are  they  thus  accessible  to  all,  as  arc  the  colloges  of  our  own  land, 
but  a  much  larger  proportion  of  the  iiopuhition  avail  themselves  of  the  advan- 
tages they  oiler.  Every  profesaional  man  must  pass  his  examination  upon  the 
studies  of  the  University;  and  no  theologian  would  be  permitted  to  preach,  no 
lawyer  to  plead,  no  physician  to  practise,  no  engineer  to  build  roads,  unless  he 
had  his  certificate  in  his  pocket  that  it  had  been  passed  sati-factorily.  It  is  the 
only  way  in  which  to  become  a  teacher  in  the  gymnasia,  (or  state  schools.)  or 
to  reach  a  professorship  in  the  Univer.-^ity.  Thus  the  whole  educated  commu- 
nity are  broucrht  under  the  inlluence  of  the  Universities,  and  the  "  gebildete" 
(that  is,  educated)  are  spoken  of  and  referred  to  as  a  distinct  class  in  the 
community.  The  arrangements  of  the  universities  are,  for  the  most  part, 
admirable,  tending  to  produce  thoroughness  in  the  student,  and  to  secure  for 
him  tlie  best  jx)ssible  instruction. 

The  Gymnasia  may  be  considered  component  parts  of  the  University ;  they 
are,  in  fact,  its  necessary  presupposition.  No  student  (that  Is,  German  student) 
can  attend  University  lectures  until  he  has  pas.-ed  the  examiuatlcn  of  the 
gymnasia ;  this  is  his  ticket  of  admission.  The  coui-se  in  the  gymnasium  is 
nine  years,  though  this  period  may  be  sliortened  by  entering  an  advanced 
class.  It  is  not  usual,  however,  to  do  this.  No  boy  is  admitted  younger  than 
nine  years  of  age,  and  he  is  expected  at  the  first  to  possess  the  common  rudi- 
ments of  German  education,  and  a  little  knowledge  of  Latin.  During  the 
nine  years'  course  he  is  carefully  instructed  in  Latin,  Greek,  the  elements  of 
mathematics,  and  history ;  usually,  also,  in  the  French  and  English  lan- 
guages; and,  besides,  if  he  is  to  study  theology,  in  Hebrew.  During  so  long 
a  course,  he  learns  thorougU'j  what  he  Is  taught.  When  he  euter>  the  Uni- 
versity he  can  write  and  speak  Latin  with  tolerable  correctness  and  facility. 
Indeed,  nnnv  of  the  recitations  of  the  hijh'T  classc-s  In  the  gymnajla  are  con- 
ducted entirely  In  Latin.  Greek  is  read  with  ca<e;  and,  in  fact,  with  all -the 
languages,  the  difficulty  of  translation  is  past  They  are  tools  ready  to  be 
used  in  theology,  for  the  purposes  of  exegesis,  and  in  philology  for  the  higher 
criticism  of  the  text,  style,  &c.,  of  the  classic  authors.  In  fact,  the  universities 
correspond  more  to  our  professional  scho<jls  tlian  to  our  colleges,  though  they 
embrace  departments  which  scarcely  cxi.'t  as  yet  among  u.s. 

"Wlien  the  student  matriculates  at  tlie  University,  his  school  days  are  past ; 
he  is  now  cn':racrcd  In  prcjiarlng  ilirectly  for  his  I'uturc  oniplovmcnt  In  lite.  lie 
is  under  no  system  of  espionage  ;  he  can  study  or  not,  as  suits  him;  can  attend 
the  lectures  he  pays  for  or  not ;  and  so,  at  first,  he  is  apt  to  be  lazy,  and  the 
first  semester  (lialf  year)  is  usually  a  reaction  against  the  strict  discipline  of  the 


306  Correspondence.  [April, 

gj-mnasium.  But  this  state  is  only  transitory.  The  fact  stares  the  student  in 
the  face  that  so  many  courses  of  lectures  arc  to  be  heard ;  and  that,  unless  he 
passes  a  good  examination  upon  them,  all  chances  for  success  in  life  are  lost. 
So  the  fox  (as  the  freshmen  are  called  here)  stops  frisking  his  tail  by  the  end 
of  the  first  semester,  and  turns  with  alacrity  to  his  work. 

Most  of  his  instruction  consists  in  lectures  delivered  on  the  various  subjects 
in  his  department.  Besides  these,  there  is  in  most  departments  what  is  called 
a  '■'■seminar"  a  meeting  of  a  certain  number  of  students  with  the  professors 
once  or  twice  a  week,  for  the  discu?sion  of  particular  topics.  In  the  philologi- 
cal department  these  are  always  conducted  in  Latin,  and  consist  of  the  discus- 
sion of  the  purity  of  text  of  a  writer,  or  a  disquisition  on  a  tragedy,  or  some- 
thing of  thekind.  An  essay  is  usually  read  by  one  member ;  the  others  then 
discuss  what  he  has  said,  and  the  professor  sums  up  the  argument,  and  gives 
his  own  opinion.  Every  one  speaks  in  Latin,  and  is  immediately  corrected  if 
he  make  a  mistake.  In  l'hilosoj)hy  and  Theology  there  is  the  same  routine ; 
save  that  in  discussions  on  homiletics  or  dogmatics,  German  is  spoken.  The 
exegetlcal  seminar  is  held  in  Latin.  The  student  must  spend  three  years  in 
this  manner,  and  must  hear  lectures  in  all  the  branches  of  his  profession.  He 
may  prolong  his  course,  if  he  chooses;  but  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  semester  he 
may  pass  his  examination.  A  theological  student,  if  he  wish  to  become  a  pas- 
tor, is  not  examined  at  the  University,  but  by  a  council  appointed  by  the  king 
for  the  purpose,  consisting  of  theological  professors  and  pastors.  If  he  wishes 
to  teach,  however,  he  must  also  be  examined  at  the  University.  In  most 
cases  the  students  try  to  take  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy,  which  term 
comprehends  all  departments.  You  are  to  be  examined  on  a  certain  list  of 
subjects;  but  you  can  make  any  one  of  them  the  c/M"e/one,on  which  you  are 
expected  to  be  very  thorough,  and  on  which  your  success  principally  depends. 

If,  in  addition  to  this,  one  wishes  to  teach  in  the  University,  with  the  prospect 
of  becoming  a  professor,  he  writes  a  treatise  in  Latin  upon  some  subject  in  his 
department,  and  holds  a  public  discussion  also  in  Latin  upon  it,  with  three 
opponents  appointed  by  the  faculty.  The  professors  attend  in  their  robes  of 
oflice,  and  the  candidate  argues  in  white  gloves  and  cravat,  for  it  is  quite  a 
state  affair.  After  it  is  over  he  receives  the  clasp  of  the  hand,  the  open  and 
shut  books,  the  ring  of  oflice,  and  the  oflicial  kiss;  and  is,  moreover,  smothered 
with  Latin  praises  from  the  dean  of  the  faculty.  He  then  has  permission  to 
read  lectures,  but  receives  no  compensation  from  the  institution,  depending 
on  the  number  of  students  who  hear  him  for  his  support.  At  first  this  is 
small,  but  if  he  is  a  man  of  ability  and  learning  his  students  increase  in  num- 
ber, and  when  he  has  published  a  good  book  on  some  subject  he  is  promoted 
to  be  Professor  Extraordinary,  with  a  suiall  salary  from  the  government.  In 
consideration  of  this  he  has  to  read  a  'public  (or  free)  lecture  once  or  twice  a 
week.  If  he  comes  to  be  at  all  distinguished,  he  is,  after  some  years,  made 
Proffssor  Ordinary,  with  a  larger  salary.  His  chief  support,  however,  at  all 
times  comes  from  the  students  who  hear  him;  each  of  whom  pays  about  four 
dollars  for  each  course  of  lectures,  except,  of  course,  two /juWic  lectures,  which 
are  free  to  all.  Neither  the  Privat  Docent  (the  licensed  lecturer)  nor  any 
of  the  professors  have  the  subjects  assigned  in  which  they  shall  read.     Of 


1856.]  Higher  Education  in  Germany.  S07 

course  they  must  read  in  their  department ;  but  they  may  choose  any  branch 
of  it  they  may  see  fit  This,  one  mviht  at  first  think,  would  cause  confusion ; 
but  it  is  soon  seen  to  be  an  admirable  arrangement.  If  two  or  more  professors 
read  on  the  same  subject,  the  students  are  not  slow  in  finding  out  which  is  the 
ablest,  and  the  inferior  ones  are  soon  left  to  read  to  empty  benches.  A  pro- 
fessor thus  deserted  will  then  take  up  another  subject ;  and,  if  he  is  an  able 
man,  will  soon  have  a  full  lecture-room  to  hear  his  ethics  or  exegesis,  though 
his  dogmatics  had  emptied  it.  Thus  the  students  arc  sure  to  have  every  man's 
best  offered  to  them  in  his  lectures ;  and  the  professor  is  not  obliged  to  read  on 
one  subject  while  his  heart  is  fixed  on  another.  The  number  of  subjects  is 
thus  very  much  varied.  In  Churcli  History,  for  instance,  one  lecturer  may 
read  on  the  History  of  Doctrines  ;  another  on  External  Church  History ; 
another  on  tlie  Gnostics ;  or  on  the  history  of  a  particular  doctrine,  such  as 
the  Trinity,  the  sacraments,  &c.  In  the  cxcgctical  department  one  may  read 
on  prophecy ;  another  on  the  ^Mosaic  record ;  another  may  expound  the 
Psalms:  all  subjects  requiring  men  of  a  somewhat  ditl'erent  character.  To 
have  such  a  system,  a  great  number  of  professors  is  required,  and  a  great 
number  of  students  too  to  support  them.  The  instruction  by  lectures,  more- 
over, presupposes  a  thorough  discipline  of  mind,  and  habits  of  study  already 
formed  in  the  student :  it  requires,  also,  to  make  it  effective,  the  prospect  ahead 
of  a  severe  examination  in  the  lectures.  But  where  these  conditions  exist,  it 
must  result  in  giving  a  fullness  of  inlbrmation,  and  a  thoroughness  of  culture, 
that  could  not  be  attained  in  any  other  way. 

Of  all  the  Prussian  universities,  the  one  at  Berlin  is  the  chief.  The  number 
of  its  profesiors  and  students  is  by  far  tlie  largest,  and  it  excels  also  iu  the  si^e 
of  its  library,  and  the  richne.-s  of  its  collections  and  museums.  A  somewhat 
special  account  of  the  University  itself  may  not  bo  without  interest  to  your 
readers. 

The  University  building  is  a  large  and  finely-proportioned  pile  ;  forming 
three  sides  of  a  hollow  square.  The  court-yard  thus  formed  opens  upon  the 
street  called  "  Unter  den  Linden."  One  wing  of  the  building  faces  the  opera- 
house  ;  the  other  faces  the  Prince  of  Prussia's  palace,  and  the  magnificent 
bronze  monument  to  Frederic  the  Great.  This  building  is  entirely  used  for 
■lecture-rooms,  and  the  various  scientitic  collections  of  the  institution.  The 
students  room  where  they  please  in  the  town,  the  University  exercising  no 
oversight  over  thoui  save  thron.di  the  Univer.-ity  police.  These  lecture- rooms, 
•which  are  of  all  sizes,  to  suit  the  distinguished  or  undistinguished  protessors, 
are  very  plain,  having  unpaintcd  seats  and  desks,  and  a  desk  in  similar  style 
for  the  lecturer.  The  aula,  where  the  public  e,\ercises  of  conferring  degrees, 
awarding  premiums,  &c.,  take  place,  is  very  handsome  and  spacious. 

The  number  of  students  is  ordinarily  absut  fifteen  hundred ;  but  many  hear 
lectures  who  are  not  matriculated,  and  the  number  of  these  attending  lectures 
is  about  two  thousar.d.  This  is  about  the  number  at  Munich  and  Vienna.  As 
the  catalogue  for  this  year  has  not  yet  appeared,  I  cannot  give  the  number  of 
students  in  each  department  Tlio  students  of  theolo^zy,  however,  are  the 
least  numerous,  the  theological  faculty  not  being  so  distinguished  here  as  in 
Halle  and  other  places. 


308  Correspondence.  [April, 

There  are  iq  all  departments  ninety  professors  and  sixty-four  privat  do- 
cents.  Of  these  there  ai-e  in  theology,  Jive  ordinary  and  Jive  extraordinary 
professors,  and/bur  privat  docents;  in  laic,  eight  ordinary  and /o!(r  extraordi- 
nary professors,  and  three  privat  docents  ;  in  medicine,  eleven  ordinary  and  seven 
extraordinary  professors,  and  twenty-two  privat  docents  ;  and  in  the  compre- 
hensive department  o( phil.usophg,twentg-Jiue  ordinary  and  ticenty-fice  extraor- 
dinary prot'essors,  and  tlurtij-fve  privat  docents.  Besides  these  tliere  are  tiro 
lecturers,  -whose  title  is  "Acadcmias  Regia;  Litter.  Sodalis,"  five  lecturers  on 
tlie  modem  languages  and  literature,  not  included  in  the  philosophical  fac- 
ulty, and  instructoi-s  in  fencing,  gymnastics,  leaping,  and  riding.  So,  taken 
together,  there  arc  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  instructors  in  the  various  de- 
partments. 

The  subjects  treated  arc.  of  course,  very  various.  As  an  illustration  of  the 
variety  and  number  of  topics  rot  usually  considered  with  us,  let  me  quote  a  few 
of  the  lectures  in  the  theological  department:  Thus,  Professor  Hengstenberg 
reads  a  public  lecture  on  "  the  History  of  the  Jews  from  the  Time  of  tlie  Exile ;" 
Professor  Xitzsch  reads  on  "  CatechetiL;"  or  ihc  mode  and  uses  of  teachin"- 
the  Catechism.  Then  there  are  lectures  on  the  "Ancient  Semitic  Geography;" 
"  The  Method  and  Encyclopedia  of  Theological  Study ;"  "  TJie  Syriac  and 
Semitic  Languages ;"  "  The  Intluence  of  Philosophy,  since  tlie  Time  of  Spi- 
noza, upon  the  Chi-istian  Keligion  and  Theology."  Dr.  Erdmann  reads  on 
'■'Patristic,"  or  the  lives,  works,  and  doctrines  of  the  Church  fathers; 
Licentiate  Schneider  on  the  "  History  of  Ecclesiastical  Poetry ;"  others  on 
"  Symbolik,"  or  the  history  of  confessions  and  creeds,  while  the  "  History  of 
Doctrines,"  beginning  now  (o  be  somewhat  considered  by  us  at  home,  is  a 
branch  very  widely  cultivated. 

But  it  would  be  tedious  to  go  thus  through  the  various  departments.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  almost  all  branches  are  carefully  treated  even  in  their  mi- 
nutiaj.  Indeed,  the  division  of  labour  is  as  remarkable  here  as  it  is  in  our  fac- 
tories where  machinery  has  been  extensively  introduced.  I  will,  however, 
give  some  explanation  of  the  philosophical  faculty;  for, from  its  name,  it  would 
not  be  generally  understood  among  us. 

The  philosophical  department,  then,  includes  all  those  subjects  which  can- 
not come  under  the  other  departments,  and  which  can  be  philosophically  treat- 
ed. Thus,  history,  philology,  and  the  natural  sciences  are  comprehended  in 
it,  as  well  as  philosophy  proper.  This  faculty  in  Berlin  includes  a  great  many 
of  the  most  distinguished  men  belonging  to  the  University.  For  instance, 
Bekker  and  Boeckh,  the  distinguished  Greek  editors ;  Lepsius,  who  may  be  said 
to  be  to  Egvpt  what  Niebuhr  Avas  to  Rome;  llanke  and  Yon  llaumer,  the 
celebrated  historians;  Carl  Ritlcr,  the  gi-eat  geographer;  Haupt,  the  Latin 
professor;  Trendelenherg,  so  distinguished  for  his  philosophical  writings:  Kie- 
pert,  the  author  of  the  historical  maps ;  ^Lichclet,  the  Hegelian  philosopher, 
and  others. 

It  is  quite  bewildering,  and  positively  amusing,  at  times,  to  sec  the  topics 
which  are  treated  of.  Not  only  are  there  lectures  on  the  various  works  of  the 
classic  authors  of  Greece  and  Home,  but  numerous  individuals  hold  thcniselves 
ready  (mind,  I  do  not  say  read)  to  read  in  Chaldce,  Sanscrit,  Persian,  and  the 


1856.]  Foreign  Correspondence.  309 

Zend.  One  adventurous  doctor  has  a  "  Privatissime  "  on  Arabic,  Kabbinical 
Hebrew,  S\Tlac,  and  Etliiopic ;  -wliilc  another  has  the  same  on  the  Polish, 
Bohemian,  Russian,  and  Servian  tongues.  Tlie  Coptic  is,  of  course,  not 
neglected ;  and  even  Turkish  and  Chinese  have  tlieir  devotees.  Not  only 
does  Dr.  Boettichcr  describe  the  Atlienian  Acropolis  at  the  period  of  its  glorv, 
but  his  companion  in  arms  is  equally  learned  on  the  "  geography  of  Egypt  at 
the  time  of  the  Pharaohs." 

But  if  some  of  this  erudition  is  calculated  to  excite  a  smile,  there  is  much 
•n-hich  awakens  a  deep  interest,  and  a  longing  that  similar  branches  might  ba 
establLshed  among  us.  Thus,  lectures  on  the  *'  lli.-jtory  of  Philosophy,"'  so 
numerous  here,  do  not  exist  in  our  colleges,  important  and  interesting  as  the 
subject  is.  In  fact,  the  v;hole  historical  spirit  here  is  something  we  ought  to 
import  as  soon  as  possible.  The  idea,  started  by  the  modern  Gei-man  philoso- 
phy, of  viewing  history  as  a  development,  which,  too,  has  happily  davrncd  oa 
some  minds  in  our  own  land,  has  given  a  now  spirit  to  all  branches  of  learn- 
ing. It  has  extended  not  only  to  political  and  moral  history,  but  to  the  history 
of  art,  of  languages,  and  of  mannei-s.  It  has  awakened  a  deep  interest  in  these 
subjects,  and  breathed  a  new  life  into  the  method  of  treating  them ;  and,  conse- 
quently, we  find  that  almost  eveiy  subject  is  treated  by  some  one  historically. 
Thus  there  are  lectures  on  the  history  of  art,  of  modern  and  ancient  literature, 
and  Professor  Bitter  reads  on  the  history  of  geography.  It  is  imnecessary  to 
remark,  that  to  rightly  understand  a  subject,  we  must  view  it  in  its  connex- 
ions ;  and  if  it  be  so,  how  important  is  this  historical  training  ?  There  are 
other  lectures  more  closely  related  to  these  historical  oucs,  which  are  of  the 
gi'catest  service :  I  refer  to  those  on  I'ncyclopcdia.  These  are  the  fu-st 
lecturer  which  a  student  takes  in  his  department,  and  they  are  intended  to 
give  him  a  general  view  of  the  province  he  is  entering.  Thus  there  are  lec- 
tures on  Theological  Encyclopedia,  Philosojihical  Encyclopedia,  &c.,  &c.,  in 
which  the  departments  are  mapped  out  befoi'c  the  student  ii\to  their  appro- 
priate divisions  and  subdivisions,  and  the  best  books  in  each  department  men- 
tioned and  criticised.  In  foct,  no  word  is  more  common  among  German  stu- 
dents than  "  orlentircn."  It  is  owing  to  this  systematic  training  as  much  as 
to  any  other  one  thinir,  that  the  G  erman  scholars  arc  enabled  to  accomplish  so 
much.  AMien  a  young  man  commences  to  make  investigations  for  hunself,  he 
knows  what  has  already  been  accomplished  in  his  dejjartment,  and  so  he  can 
start  from  the  point  wliirh  has  boon  atiahiod,  and  may  n-.ake  use  of  previous 
labours  instead  of  groping  in  the  dark,  uncertain  as  to  what  has  been  done, 
and,  consequently  as  to  what  needs  doing.  C.  C.  T. 


310      .  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  [April, 


Art.  X.— SPIOKT  RE\^EWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS. 

It  is  of  greatest  concernment  in  the  Church  and  Commonwealth  to  have  a  vigilant 
eye  how  books  demean  themselves  as  ■well  as  men,  anj  thereafter  to  confine, 
imprison,  and  do  sharpest  justice  on  them  as  malefactors  ;  for  books  are  net  abso- 
lutely dead  things,  but  do  contain  a  potency  of  life  in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that 
soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are. — Milton. 

(1.)  "  Tlie  Tesilmonij  of  an  Escaped  Novico  from  th.c  Sisterhood  of  St.  Jo~eph, 
by  JosKi-HrxE  M.  Bun'klf.y."  (New- York :  IlarfKir  &  Brother?,  1855 :  1 2mo., 
pp.  338.)  This  book,  unlike  many  of  similar  character,  carries  conviction  of 
its  truth  along  with  it  to  the  mind  of  the  reader.  It  gives  a  fair  account  of  the 
convent  at  Emmetsburgh,  of  its  discipline,  and  of  the  results  of  the  system 
upon  the  physical  and  moral  health  of  the  inmates  of  the  institution.  The 
instruments  of  Rome  arc  the  same,  in  substance,  everywhere — appeals  to  the 
senses  and  to  the  imagination,  to  the  fears  and  the  desires  of  our  poor 
human  nature;  and  Miss  Bunkley  shows  that  these  means  are  used  with  as 
much  strictness  and  severity  in  American  convents  now,  as  in  European  clois- 
ters centuries  ago,  making  allowance  for  the  differences  of  time  and  country. 


(2.)  ^'■Modern  Pilgrims:  ahowing  the  Improvements  in  Travel  and  the  netrest 
Methods  of  reaching  the  Celedial  Cihj,  by  Georgk  'Wood."  (Boston:  Phil- 
lips, Sampson,  &  Co.,  1855;  2  vols.  12mo.)  The  title  reveals  in  this  book  an 
imitation  of  Dunyan ;  but,  after  all  possible  allowance  on  the  score  of  the  dif- 
ference of  times  and  of  topics,  it  is  a  very  poor  imitation.  There  are  thrusts 
at  every  form  of  Christianity  now  extant  among  men  ;  not  the  sharp  sabre-cuts 
of  genuine  wit,  but  rough,  butchering  blows,  which  often  do  execution,  but  in 
a  very  rude  v.-ay.  The  author  seems  to  favour  the  Baptists  more  than  auv 
other  modern  sect ;  the  rest,  especially  the  Methodists,  are  generally  caricatured. 


(3.)  Messus.  Carlton  &  Phillips  have  reprinted  •'  The  Preacher's  Manual: 
including  Clnrl:e''s  Clavis  Biblica,  and  Letter  to  a  Preacher,  tcith  Cole's  Four 
Dbcourses  on  the  Duties  of  a  Minister  of  the  Gospel."  (New-York:  1855; 
12mo.,  pp.  235.)  The  separate  treatises  contained  in  this  volume  have  had  a 
long  career  of  ti-ofulncss;  and.  In  their  collected  furni,  they  are  wortbv  to  be- 
come a  "  manual"  for  candidates  for  the  ministry. 


(4.)  JIessks.  Harper  &  BROTnER3  have  republished  "  The  Worlcs  of  Charles 
TMmb,  tcith  a  Sketch  of  hl-i  Life,  by  T.  N.  Talkourd."  New- York:  1S55; 
2  vols.  12mo.)  The  editing  of  Lamb's  letters  and  the  preparation  of  his 
biography  could  have  fallen  into  no  more  worthy  hands  than  those  of  Mr. 
Sergeant  Talfourd,  himself  so  soon  (alas!)  to  need  the  same  kind  ser\iccs  and 
not  hkely  to  find  so  apt  and  so  genial  a  biographer.  In  the  present  reprint 
the  life,  the  letters,  and  the  "Final  Memorials"  of  Lamb  occupy  the  first 
volume  ;  the  second  contains  the  essays,  talcs,  and  poems  cf  "  the  frolic  and  the 
gentle"  Ella. 


185G.]  Short  Revieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.  311 

(5.)  "  TTie  LiDcs  of  the  British  Hictorians,  by  Ettgexe  Lawrence."  (New- 
York  :  C.  Scribner,  1855;  2  vols.  12dio.)  Thi-^  book  contains  biographies 
of  many  men  whose  only  bond  of  connexion  is  tlie  common  fact  of  their 
writing  history.  Yet  this  one  bond  is  enough  to  afford  ample  opportunity  for 
useful  comparison  and  discrimination  on  the  part  of  a  capable  writer.  Mr. 
Lawrence  has  conceived  the  plan  of  his  book  well,  and  has  executed  it,  on  the 
■whole,  in  a  very  satistactory  manner.  The  sketches  of  Burnet  and  Gibbon 
strike  us  as  particularly  well  done. 


(6.)  ^'An  Outline  of  the  General  Principles  of  Graininar,  edited  by  the  Rev. 
J.  G.  Barton."  (New- York:  Harper  and  IJrothcrs,  lbo5^  ISmo.,  pp.  155.) 
This  is  a  reprint  of  a  very  excellent  little  En2li--h  treatise  on  Grammar,  and  is 
of  far  more  value  than  most  of  the  larger  books  of  the  kind  now  in  the  hands 
of  school-boys.  The  American  cJitor  has  added  a  set  of  questions,  adapting 
the  book  more  perfectly  to  use  in  the  class-nx)m. 


(7.)  ^'Napoleon  at  St.  Helena;  or,  interesting  Anecdotes  and  remarkalle  Con- 
versations of  the  Emperor  duri7ig  the  five  and  a  half  years  of  his  Captivity, 
collected  hj  John  S.  C.  Abbott."  (New- York:  Harper  &  Brothers,  1855; 
8vo.,  pp.  C62.)  We  regard  this  book  as  a  far  more  truthful  and  useful  one 
thanlMr.  Abbott's  recent  "Life  of  Napoleon."  !Mr.  Abbott  has  here  compiled, 
with  much  skill  and  judgment,  the  most  interesting  and  characteristic  portions 
of  the  St.  Helena  memorials  of  Las  Casas,  O'Meara,  ^lontholon,  and  others, 
and  arranged  the  whole  under  the  form  of  a  ckiily  journal.  The  book  thus 
affords  a  record  of  the  coiicluding  pjrtion  of  Napoleon's  life,  which  approxi- 
mates BosweU's  Johnson  in  minuteness  of  detail.  As  the  books  of  which  the 
present  work  Is  made  up  are  mostly  out  of  print,  it  will  be  very  acceptable  to 
a  large  class  of  readers. 


(8.)  iVli;5sn>.  Haiipet:  &  I^uotiikrs  have  issued  a  new  and  revised  edition 
of  "  The  English  Language  in  its  Elements  and  Eorins,  by  "W.  L.  Fowlkr,  late 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  Amherst  College."  (New- York  :  1855  ;  Svo.,  pp.  754.) 
In  this  revised  edition  there  is  a  large  amount  of  new  matter,  and  exercises  in 
Analysis  and  Synthesis  are  given,  which  adapt  the  book  still  better  for  use 
in  teaching.  In  its  present  shape  the  book  contains  a  larger  amount  of  valuable 
information  with  regard  to  the  origin  and  structtire  of  the  English  language 
than  anv  single  book  now  accessible  to  American  students. 


(9.)  Jacou  Abt.ott's  popularity  with  tlio  children  of  this  generation  is  un- 
limited. Accordingly,  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  success  of  a  republication  of  his 
"Rollo  Books,"  of  which  scries  we  have  received  '■'Hollo  in  Scotland."  Bos- 
ton: W.  J.  Reynolds  &  Co.,  1S5C;  r2mo.,  pp.  218.)  Additional  volumes  are 
preparing  in  continuation  of"  Hollo's  Tour  in  Europe." 


(10.)  We  have  received  the  ;i!>i,'^  vohmie  of  "  The  Works  of  Shckspcare, 
edited  bij  the  Rev.  11.  N.  Ilunsox,  A.  M."  (Boston:  James  !Munroe  &  Co., 
185G;  12mo.,  pp.  579.)  Two  more  volumes  will  complete  the  issue  of  this 
best  and  most  convenient  edition  of  Shakspeare  yet  published  in  this  country. 


312  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  [April, 

(11.)  ".4  Child's  History  of  the  United  Stales,  by  JoHX  Bonxeu,"  (New- 
York:  Harper  &  Brotbers.  1855;  2  vols.  18mo.,)  is  not  unwortby  to  be  com- 
pared, in  some  respect,  with  Dickens's  "  Cliikl's  History  of  Engkmd."  We 
should  rei.-ouuuend  it  more  cordially  but  for  its  free-trade  doctrines,  and  its  low 
tone  on  the  subject  of  slavery  extension. 


(12.)  ''The  World's  Jubilee,  by  .IxxA  Silliman,"  (Xew-York:  M.W.Dodd, 
1856;  13mo.,  pp.  343,)  belongs  to  a  class  of  bo<>ks  (on  the  Advent)  that  we 
have  given  over  reading.  "We  have  only  glanced  at  the  book  sufficiently  to 
see  that  its  main  object  appears  to  be  to  show  that  the  earth  will  be  the  lunire 
abode  of  the  glorified  saints. 


(13.)  "A  Jiew  Flower  for  Children,"  by  L.  Makia  Chili>,"  (New- York: 
C.  S.  Francis  &;  Co.,  185G  ;  ISmo.,  pp.  311,)  contains  a  series  of  \eiy  beautiful 
and  instructive  stories.  Mrs.  Child  has  a  peculiar  gift  in  this  line  of  writing; 
and  this  little  book  is  one  of  her  best. 


(14.)  ''Cm-roll  Ashton ;  or,  the  Reward  of  Truthfulness,"  (Philadelphia: 
American  Baptist  Publication  Society.)  is  an  excellent  little  story,  showing 
how  a  good  boy,  who  suffered  for  a  long  time  on  a  flilse  imputation  of  theft, 
was  finally  and  completely  vindicated.  It  may  be  put  without  fear  into  the 
hands  of  children. 


(15.)  The  publication  of  '-Harper's  Classical  Library"  has  gone  on,  since 
ourlast,  with  rapidity  and  promptitude.  "  Tkucydides,  translated  by  the 
Kov.  Uexky  Dale,  ]M.  A.,  (12mo.,  pp.  594,)  is  from  the  text  of  Arnold,  col- 
lated with  Bekker  and  others.  The  version  is  more  literal  than  readable. 
"Sophocles"  (12mo.,  pp.  339)  is  given  in  the  standard  Oxford  translation, 
revised  by  Mr.  Buckley.  "■  Herodotus,  edited  by  Hexry  Carv,  M.  A.," 
(12mo.,  pp.  613,)  is  a  literal  version  from  the  text  of  Baehr,  and  is  furnished 
with  geographical  and  general  Index. 

(16.)  "  The  Wonderful  Phiah,  and  other  Stories,"  (New-York:  M.  W.  Dodd; 
18mo.,  pp.  323,)  is  a  collection  of  beautiful  talcs  from  the  French.  Some  of 
them  are  tender  and  touchlnir  to  a  rare  dec;rce. 


(17.)  "  The  Skeptical  Era  in  Modern  History,  by  T.  M.  Post."    (New- York: 

C.  Scrlbuer,  1856  ;  12mo.,  pp.  2C4.)  The  author  of  this  book  is,  we  believe,  a 
Congregatlonalist  minister  at  St.  Louis.  In  the  present  treatise  he  aim?,  first, 
to  show  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  "  defection  of  faith  that  marked  the 
eighteenth  century ;"  and,  secondly,  to  consider  its  causes.  The  result  of  his 
investigation  is,  that  the /b/i*-  tt  orirjo  malorum — the  cause  of  causes  for  ni>>lern 
infidelity — 1?  to  be  found  in  despotism,  secular  and  spiritual,  but  cpocially  the 
latter.  His  cxi)osItIoa  of  tlie  subject  is  throughout  clear  and  comprehensive; 
and  the  argument,  or  rather  cumulation  of  arguments,  by  which  he  presses  all 
the  enormous  evils  of  the  eclipse  of  faith  back  upon  the  Church  of  Rome,  is 


1856.3  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  313 

powerful,  as  well  from  its  method  as  from  its  truthfulness.  The  work  affords 
a  much-needed  rebuke  to  the  absurd  Humanist  charge — in  which  many  silly 
Protestants  have  acquiesced — that  the  freedom  of  thought  brought  in  by  the 
Keformation  has  given  rise  to  modern  scepticism.  ^Ir.  Post  writes  with 
uncommon  vigour  and  Ibrce ;  and  his  present  work  is  an  admirable  contribu- 
tion to  the  culture  of  the  voung  men  of  this  ceneration. 


(18.)  "One  Word  more :  an  Appeal  lo  the  reasoning  and  thourjhlfiU  nviong  Un- 
hdicvcr^,  by  Joiix  Xeal."  (New-York  :  M.  W.  Dodd,  IS.jO  :  r2mo.,  pp.  220.) 
The  peculiar  characteristics  of  John  Xeal's  mind  are  displayed  here  in  a  new 
field — the  enforcement  of  practical  religious  truth.  The  book  consists  of  brief 
essays — argmnentative,  didactic,  and  hortatory — upon  I\liracles,  Faith,  Prayer, 
Conversion,  and  other  topics.  The  most  striking  j'apci-s  in  the  collection  are 
those  on  ''Faith"  and  on  "  Univcrsalism;"  and  in  this  last,  the  author,  who 
was  himself  a  Universalist,  shows  how  his  views  came  to  be  rectified,  and  piolnts 
out  a  line  of  conduct  and  of  argument  in  dealing  with  Universalists  which 
orthodox  teachers  would  do  well  to  adopt. 


(19.)  '■'■Essays,  Educational  and  Relujions,  by  E.  Thompson,  LL.  D.,  Presi- 
dent of  Ohio  Weslcyan  University."  (Cincinnati:  Methodist  Book  Concern, 
1855;  12mo.,  pp.  392.)  This  series  of  essjiys  forms  the  first  volume  of  a  col- 
lection of  Dr.  Thompson's  "  '\^''ork?,"  made  by  the  Kw.  E.  D.  Koo,  i\I.  D.,  with 
the  author's  consent.  The  "  Educational  Essays"  include  topics  in  the  various 
branches  of  triiining — mental,  moral,  and  i>hysical-rrall  of  v.diich  are  treated 
with  the  acute  discrimination  that  marks  Dr.  Thompson's  thinking,  and  with 
the  clearness  and  method  which  arc  characteristic  of  his  writings.  The 
"Keligious  Essays"  contain  several  disrotirsos  of  great  merit — especially  two 
on  "Missions,"  which  we  should  be  glad  to  see  puljlishcd  as  tracts  and  widely 
scattered.  "We  shall  await,  with  great  interest,  the  additional  volumes  promised 
by  Dr.  Roe. 

(20.)  "  Systematic  Beneficence :  three  prize  Essays."  (New-York  :  Carlton  & 
Phillips,  1856;  ISmo.)  Some  time  since  the  Tract  Society  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  oflercd  a  prize  of  six  hundred  dollars,  to  be  given,  "at  the 
discretion  of  the  adjuilicators,  in  one  sum.  or,  -lir.iild  three  essays  be  selected,  in 
sums  of  three  hundred,  two  hundred,  and  one  hundred  dollars  respectively." 
The  present  volume  contains  the  essays  to  which  the  prizes  have  been  awarded. 
The  first  is  entitled  '-The  Great  Reform,  by  Ahkf.  Stevens."  (ISmo.,  pp. 
126.)  The  title  very  well  indicates  the  jx;intof  view  from  which  ZMr.  Stevens 
regards  the  subject.  lie  divides  his  o-^sjiv  into  four  parts :  I.  The  importance 
of  the  subject;  IT.  The  present  standard  y>i  beneficence  in  the  Church; 
III.  The  true  standard  of  Cliristian  beneficence;  IV.  The  results  that  would 
follow  the  adoption  of  the  true  standard.  Each  of  these  hoatls  is  well  wrought 
out;  but  we  consider  the  third  as  by  far  the  most  important  and  valuable.  Its 
points  are,  (1)  that  Christian  beneficence  is  a  duly,  and  should  be  a  habit; 
(2)  that  the  Scriptures  set  forth  the  duty,  xli  limits  and  its  methods;  and  (S) 

fouRTH  Seriks,  Vol.  Vrn.— 20 


314  SJwrt  Rcvietus  and  Notices  of  Books.  [April, 

that  tlic  Church  can  and  7nust  come  up  to  the  standard.  It  hardly  appears  to 
us  possible  tluit  any  Christian  nian  can  read  this  essay  ■with  thought  and 
prayer,  and  not  at  once  dctennine  to  take  his  part  in  the  "great  reform"  of 
which  the  Church  is  so  signally  in  need. 

The  title  of  the  second  essay,  again,  clearly  indicates  another  point  of  view — 
"  T/ie  Great  Question  ;  or,  how  ahall  I  iiK'.Lt  the  Clauiis  of  God  upon  my  PropCTty^ 
by  the  Rev.  L.  Wuitk."  (ISmo.,  pp.  234.)  i\Ir.  White  grasps  his  subject 
strongly,  and  presses  the  duty  of  proportional  and  periodical  giving  upon  the 
consciences  of  his  readers  with  great  force.  Ilis  appeals  rest  upon  a  Scriptural 
basis  throughout;  though  we  must  disagree  with  his  entbrcement  of  the  rule  in 
1  Cor.  xvi,  2.  llis  chaj)ter  on  the  duty  of  the  ministry  has  some  passages 
which  sti-ike  us  as  very  strange :  e.  ff.,  that  the  "  idea  is  now  extensively  enter- 
tained in  the  Churches  that  ministers  are,  ex  officio,  excused  from  ginng." 
Certainly,  in  all  our  expfricnce  we  have  never  heard  of  this  before;  and  in 
the  central  region  of  American  Methodism  it  has  long  been  the  habit,  we 
think,  of  the  ministers  to  lead  their  people  in  Christian  beneficence.  AVe  con- 
sider tlie  entire  essay,  however,  to  be  eminently  adapted  to  stir  up  the  con- 
sciences both  of  ministers  and  jK'opIe,  and  hope  it  will  be  widely  circulated — 
a  result  which  would  be  surer  if  it  were  cut  down  to  half  its  present  dimensions. 

The  third  essay  is  also  distinct  from  the  others  in  its  point  of  view :  '■'■Prop- 
erty Consecrated ;  or,  Honouriny  Go<l  with  our  Substance,  by  the  Rev.  B.  St.  J. 
Fky."  (18mo.,  pp.  127.)  The  points  in  this  essay  are,  (1)  the  will  of  God  In  rela- 
tion to  property,  and  (2)  the  temporal  and  spiritual  advantages  arising  from  a 
right  use  of  property.  These  points  are  developed  in  ten  chapters,  each  of 
which  treats  on  subdlvliions  of  one  or  the  other  of  the  general  topics.  ]\Ir. 
Frj-'s  style  is  good  and  concise,  his  argument  is  clear  and  cogent,  and  his  appli- 
cation full  of  force  and  pungency.  From  the  circulation  of  this  and  the  other 
essays,  we  hope  for  a  nev:  thfory  and  practice  of  benevolence  in  the  Church. 
And  may  God  speed  the  day. 


(21.)  "  17iC  Ecclesiastical  Princijil'S  arid  Polity  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodhts, 
by  William  Peiiice."  (L<)n<lon:  Hamilton.  Adams,  &  Co.;  royal  8vo.,  pp. 
668.)  This  work  professes  to  give  a  full  and  "impartial"  account  of  all  the 
ordinances,  institutions,  lav.s,  regulations,  and  general  economy  of  the  AYes- 
leyan  Methodists  in  England,  carefully  compiled  '•  from  jMr.  Wesley's  Journal, 
the  Minutes,  and  otlier  scarce  and  authi  otic  records,  from  the  earliest  period 
to  the  present  time."  The  compiler  aiuis,  he  tells  us,  not  to  sit  in  iud'^ment  on 
the  laws  of  Jlethodism,  but  to  give  them  in  their  integrity.  He  has  certainly 
produced  a  book  of  great  value  to  all  who  are  interested  in  the  study  of 
Methodism,  whether  as  friends  or  foes.  The  information  sathered  into  this  lar^e 
volume  would  have  to  be  searched  for  through  a  multitude  of  publications, 
many  of  them  difilcult  of  access;  so  that,  as  a  rej)ositor)' of  Methodist  facts,  the 
work  must  be  acceptable  to  all  who  wish  to  learn  what  ilethodlsm  is,  and  how 
she  has  come  to  be  what  she  is.  But  we  arc  inclined  to  think  that  the  com- 
piler, with  all  his  gcwd  intentions,  has  deceived  himself  a  little  v,uh  reizard  to 
the  absolut4i  "impart'udlty "  of  bis  labours,  l^ven  from  his  preface  we  can 
gather  that  it  must  have  cost  him  an  elFort  even  to  attempt  the  holding  of  an 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  315 

even  balance.  He  speaks — in  somewhat  clumsy  phrase — of  "  the  opposite 
adjudications  of  the  pastorate,  which  so  ominously  disfigure  the  commencement 
of  the  second  cenuiry  of  the  Wesleyan  chronology ;"  of  the  '•  mystery  of  expul- 
sion from  the  pasture  grounds  of  [Methodism,  which  has,  of  late  years,  so  power- 
fully obtained,"  &c. — passages  which  rather  forebode  the  partisan  than  the 
impartial  historian.  Xor  arc  there  wanting  similar  indications  in  the  body  of 
the  book.  For  instance,  he  gives  an  account  (]>.  12)  of  the  dispute  respectintr 
Mr.  AVesley's  manuscripts,  in  which  he  cites  ^Whitehead's  account,  and  no 
other ;  but  Coke  and  Moore's  statements  arc  equally  worthy  of  citation,  if  not  of 
credit.  Again,  Whitehead's  aecount  of  the  "  Deed  of  Declaration  "  might  fairly 
have  been  compared  with  Dr.  Coke's  manly  statement  of  his  own  share  in  that 
transaction,  (Drew's  Life  of  Coke,  Am.  ed.,  1818,  pp.  37,  38.)  On  page  63 
we  are  told  that  "  no  rule  whatever,  made  during  ]Mr.  Wesley's  lifetime,  on 
this  subject  [of  the  exclusion  of  members]  is  to  be  iound  in  the  Minutes  of 
Conference ;"  and  yet,  on  the  very  next  page  we  find  one  quoted  from  the 
Alinutes  of  1744!  and,  to  add  to  the  confusion,  this  is  classed  anions  the 
'•  rules  made  since  ]ilr.  AVesley's  deatli  I"  And  certainly  ]\Ir.  Peirce  might 
have  referred  to  Mr.  Wesley's  paper  read  to  the  leadei-s  of  Dubhn  in  17  71,  in 
which  may  be  found  the  following:  "  Q- (j-  Have  they  [the  leaders]  not 
authority  to  expel  a  particular  member  of  society?  Anx.  No:  the  assistant 
only  can  do  this."  Mr.  Peirce  states  (p.  223)  that  the  "  excellent  plan  "  of 
giving  statements  of  the  accounts  of  Kingswood  School  has  been  "  discontinued 
since  1818;"  but  he  is  either  ill-informed  on  tlie  matter,  or  disingenuous,  for 
the  simple  fact  ii,  that  these  Keports  have  been  as  fully  published  since  1818 
a3  before,  but  in  the  "  Report  of  Kingswood  School,"  instead  of  in  the  "  Minutes." 

INIany  passages  like  these,  clearly  indicating  at  least  a  want  of  care  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Peirce.  might  easily  be  cited ;  but  there  is  one  which  must  be  characterized 
in  sti-ongcr  language.  In  his  account  of  the  "  Theological  Institution,"  (pp.  235, 
23G,)  Mr.  Peirce  cites  llichard  Watson  as  giving  ceruiln  tiucstions  and  answers 
from  the  '-Minutes,"  and  in  a  note  (p.  236)  he  siiys,  "  These  q**estions  and 
answei-s  are  not  recorded  in  the  ilinutes  of  Conference  for  the  years  above 
named,  nor  is  reference  there  made  to  tlie  subject  of  such  an  Institution." 
This  gives  Mr.  Watson  the  lie  direct ;  nor  does  Mr.  Peirce  give  his  readers  any 
fair  opportimity  of  understanding  him  otherwise.  Let  our  readers  now  examine 
the  very  passage  in  Mr.  Watson  (Life  of  Wesley,  Am.  cd.,  p.  173)  which  Mr. 
Peirce  took  his  reference  from,  and  tlun  (ki'ide  u])ou  his  claim  to  impartiality, 
or  even  to  common  honesty.     It  is  as  follows : 

"  As  the  subject  of  a  seminary  or  college  has  been  of  late  brought  under  dis- 
cussion, it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  those  who  have  not  access  to  the  manu- 
script copies  of  the  first  ^linutes,  extract^j  t'rom  which  only  are  in  print,  to  give 
the  passages  which  relate  to  this  subject  t>om  the  complete  [Minutes  of  1^744 
and  1745.  In  the  former  year  it  is  asked,  'Can  we  have  a  seminary  for 
labourers  ?'  and  the  answer  is,  '  If  Cod  spare  us  until  another  conference.' 
The  next  year  the  subject  was  resumed,  '  Can  we  have  a  seminary  for  lal)ourers 
yet?'  Answer,  *  Not  till  Cod  gives  us  a  projier  tutor.'  So  that  the  institution 
was  actually  resolved  upon,  and  delayed  only  by  circumstances." 

What  we  have  said,  and  proved,  is  enough  to  show  that  Mr.  Peirce's  book, 
thongh  commendable  on  the  score  of  industry  and  research,  is  vitiated  through- 


316  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.-  [April, 

out  by  a  bad  animus,  whicli  causes  us  to  distrust  him  on  every  occasion  of 
critical  iuterest. 


(22.)  "  Tonga  and  the  Friendly  Islands,  unth  a  sketch  of  their  Mission  History, 
by  Sarah  S.  Fakmer."  (London:  Hamilton,  Adaui5,  &  Co.,  1855;  12mo., 
pp.  427.)  Miss  Farmer  has  shown  great  judgment  aud  taste  in  the  prepara- 
tiou  of  this  vokmie,  which,  though  professedly  "  writteu  for  young  people," 
contains  a  large  amount  of  informatiun,  set  forth  in  a  way  to  please  and  profit 
people  of  all  ages;.  The  discovery  of  tlie  islands,  their  physical  characteristics, 
the  condition  of  the  pi.'0j)le,  the  introduction  and  history  of  Christianity  among 
them — all  these  topics  are  treated  witli  metliod,  clearness,  and  simplicity.  The 
missionary  spirit  animates  IMiss  Farni'jr's  pages  throughout;  indeed,  we  know 
no  single  volume  of  missionary  history  so  likely  to  be  useful  in  Inspiring  young 
Christians  with  missionary  zeal  as  this.    The  illustrations  are  in  excellent  taste. 


(23.)  '■'•  History  of  the  Reign  of  Philip  the  Second,  King  of  Spoin,hy  Wita.iam 
H.  Frescott."  (Boston  :  Phillips,  Samson,  &  Co. ;  2  vols.  Svo.)  No  period 
in  the  history  of  humanity  oilers  more  important  and  interesting  material  for 
the  historian  than  that  chosen  by  Mr.  Frescott  lor  the  subject  of  his  new  work. 
It  lias  been  often  treated,  but  never  satisfactorily.  Watson's  "  History  of 
Philip  II.  and  HI."  is,  indeed,  a  olcar  and  sober  narration  ;  but  when  he 
wrote,  it  was  dllficult,  nay,  impossible,  to  get  access  to  the  best  sources  of  in- 
formation; nor,  indeed,  were  eitlier  writers  or  readers  at  that  time  very 
fastidious  about  such  matters.  Nor  has  there  ever  been  a  time  so  favourable 
as  the  present  for  getting  at  the  truth  of  history  with  regard  to  this  eventful 
period.  Many  aneient  repositories,  to  whicli  access  was  formerly  denied,  are 
now  open  to  scrutiny;  and,  in  partieular,  "the  Archives  of  Simancas,  Avhich 
have  held  the  secrets  of  the  Si)aiiish  monarcliy  hermetically  sealed  for  a^es," 
have  of  late  been  thoroughly  explored.  New  light  has  thus  been  thrown  upon 
the  motives  of  great  movements  that  were  before  inexplicable;  the  clue  to 
J  many  a  labyrinth  has  been  discovered ;  and  it  is  possible  for  us  to  understand 
the  private  policy  of  Philip  II.  bettor  than  even  the  statesmen  of  his  own 
cabinet  could  do. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  ilr.  Frcseott  has  made  diligent  use  of  all  accessible 
authorities.  His  reputation  for  a  thorough  and  honest  employment  of  original 
sources  of  informafidn  wa<  enahlish.  d  ),y  former  great  works:  the  present  ^411 
do  nothing  to  diminish  it.  To  use  his  own  modest  language,  the  present  work 
"cannot  fail  to  present  the  reader  with  such  new  and  authentic  statements 
of  facts  as  may  aflbrd  him  a  bett^-r  point  of  view  than  that  which  he  has 
hitherto  possessed  for  surveying  the  history  of  Philip  the  Second."  The  two 
volumes  now  published  carry  the  history  down  to  the  death  of  Queen  Isabella, 
1568.  They  therefore  cover  one  of  the  most  eventful  periods  in  the  history 
of  Protestantism;  and  it  is  hero  that  the  great  interest  of  the  hi-story  centres. 
The  key  to  I'hilip's  whole  policy  is  to  be  found  in  his  determination  to  crush 
Protestantism.  All  other  ambitions,  in  his  narrow  mind,  were  made  subor- 
dmate  to  this ;  and  on  tliis  issue  he  sU\ked  and  lost  the  best  j)art  of  his  dominions. 
The  beginnings  of  the  Revolution  in  the  Netherlands  are  stated  with  great 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  BooJxS.  317 

clearness  by  ^Ir.  Prescott,  and  some  of  his  most  brilliant  pictures  belong  to 
this  part  of  the  history. 

When  the  work  is  cooipleted  we  hope  to  give  a  full  survey  of  the  field.  In 
the  mean  time,  we  cannot  forbear  to  say  that  there  are  more  instances  of  loose 
and  careless  \vritiug  in  these  volumes  than  ought  to  occur  in  a  work  destined 
to  a  permanent  place  in  literature. 


(24.)  "  T'Jte  History  of  England  from  the  Accession  of  Jamrs  II.,  by  Thomas 
Babingtox  ^[acatji.ay."  (New- York:  Harper  &  Brothers;  Vols.  Ill  ^nd 
IV,  12mo.)  These  two  volumes  only  bring  the  history  down  to  1697 ;  but  it 
would  be  foolish  to  argue  from  this  the  rate  of  progress  at  which  Mr.  ^lacaulay 
will  proceed  hereafter.  The  period  embraced  in  these  volumes  covers  the 
most  important  period  in  English  history;  the  settlement  of  ^A'illiam's  govern- 
ment, the  rise  of  the  great  parties,  the  subjugation  of  Ireland  and  Scotland, 
and  the  adjustment  (if  such  it  may  be  called)  of  tlie  greatest  and  most  per- 
plexing Church  questions.  Minute  as  Macaulay's  account  is,  we  could  not 
spare  a  page  of  it.  All  the  brilliant  qualities  of  his  former  volumes  are  dis- 
played in  these  ;  and  to  a  greater  extent,  if  that  be  possible.  "We  are  sorry  to 
say,  also,  that  his  rancour  against  William  Penn  remains  undiminished. 


(2.5.)  "■Addresses  delivered  in  Ncic-York  hij  the  Uev.  William  Arthur,  A.  Z\I., 
edited  by  AV.  P.  Strickl.vxd,  D.  D."  (New-York  :  Carlton  &  Philips,  1856  ; 
I2mo.,  pp.  188.)  !Mr.  Arthur's  reputation  as  a  speaker  will  not  suffer  from 
these  reports,  which  are  made  with  great  care  by  Di-.  Strickland.  The  Lecture 
on  S>/sl(nwtic  Benevolence  alone  is  enough  to  entitle  this  little  volume  to  a 
permanent  place  in  the  library  shelves;  it  contains,  in  short  compass,  the  clearest 
Ftatement  of  the  duty  of  proportional  giving,  and  the  most  pungent  exhorta- 
tion to  its  performance,  that  we  have  ever  seen  in  print. 

(26.)  "  Unitarian  Principles  confirmed  I//  Trinitarian  Testimonies,  by  JoHX 
WiLSOX."  (Boston:  American  Unitarian  Association,  185.5  ;  12mo.,  pp.  504.) 
This  book  is  made  up  of  excerpts  from  Trinitarian  authors,  collected  under 
various  heads,  and  accompanied  by  a  running  comment  by  the  compiler — the 
■whole  designed  to  favour  the  Unitarian  heresy.  The  very  statement  of  the 
plan  is  enough  to  show  its  inherent  and  fatal  fallacy. 


(27.)  "  Thirteen  Years  Experience  in  tie  Itinerancy,  by  the  Rev.  A2;drew 
Manship."  (Philadelphia:  Higglus  &;  I'erkinpino,  1S5G;  12mo.,  pp.  398.) 
The  author  of  this  book  is  well  known  in  the  Philadelphia  Conference  as  a 
laborious  and  self-sacrificing  minL-ter.  One  of  his  latest  labours  was  the 
erection  of  the  '•  IledJing  Church"  in  Philadelphia.  Tlie  subscriptions  to  this 
Church  were  not  all  paid  in ;  and  to  make  up  the  deficiency,  in  part  at  least, 
he  became  responsible  fur  a  large  sum  of  nioucy — largo,  that  is,  for  a  poor 
itinerant  minister.  This  bo<ik  grew  out  of  tliis  state  of  things.  But  if  its  object, 
In  one  sense,  is  to  get  money,  it  has  other  and  even  better  tendencies.  Bishop 
Scott  speaks  of  it,  in  the  Introduction,  as  follows:  "It  is  characteristic  of  iu 


318  Short  RevieiDs  and  Notices  of  Books.  [April, 

author :  sprightly,  earnest,  energetic  ;  full  of  allusions,  incidents,  anecdotes,  and 
biographical  sketches;  all  tending  to  lead  the  sinner  to  Christ  and  to  heaven." 
In  view  of  the  value  and  interest  of  the  book  itself,  as  well  as  of  the  benevolent 
end  its  sale  will  subserve,  we  commend  it  to  onr  readers.  Its  laudatory  phrases, 
with  regard  to  living  men,  arc  occasionally  somewhat  extravagant. 

("28.)  "  The  Slate  of  the  Soul  hcticeen  Death  and  the  Resitrrcction,  by  the 
Eev.  Fhin'eas  Blakeman."  (New-York:  M.  "\V.  Dodd,  1855;  18mo.,  pp. 
114.)  This  little  volume  treats  of  the  conscious  existence  of  the  soul  after 
death ;  of  tlie  mode  of  its  existence ;  of  its  employments,  and  of  the  length  of 
the  period  between  death  and  the  resurrection.  The  writer  sets  forth,  clearly 
and  simply,  what  the  Scriptures  teach  ou  these  topics,  and  does  not  venture 
beyond  the  record. 


(29.)  '•  The  Gospels,  tci'h  moral  Prjlrctions  on  each  Verse,  by  Pasqtjier 
QuESNKL."  (Philadelphia:  Parry  &  M'MIllan,  1855  ;  2  vols.  8vo.)  Quesnel'a 
"  Reflections  on  the  Kew  Testament"  have  been  known  to  all  theologians  as  a 
repertory  of  acute  as  well  as  pious  observations  on  the  New  Testament.  It 
gave  rise  to  the  celebrated  paj)al  bull  ''  Unigenitus,"  in  which  101  propositions, 
extracted  from  the  work,  were  condemned.  A  full  account  of  the  controversy 
which  followed  is  given  by  Bishop  Wilson,  in  an  "  Introductory  Essay"  prefixed 
to  the  present  edition.  Tiic  whole  work  was  translated  and  published  in 
London  by  Russell,  (1719-25,)  and  from  this  translation  Bishop  Wilson 
selected  the  part  containing  the  (!o.-pe!s,  carefully  revised  it,  and  published  it 
in  London,  1830.  The  present  edition  is  a  reprint  of  Wilson's,  edited  and 
revised  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Boardman  of  Philadelphia.  The  tone  of  Quesnel's 
observations,  throughout,  is  strongly  Calvinistic,  or  rather  Augustlnian ;  but 
for  this,  we  should  commend  it  for  general  readers,  as  well  as  for  theoloTlans. 


(30.)  SnouLD  we  ever  fall  In  with  a  book  on  "  Spiritualism,"  (so  called,) 
which  contains  a  gleam  of  common  sense,  we  shall  not  fail  to  report  it  to  our 
readers.  The  last  which  has  readied  our  table  is  '■'A  Record  of  Communi- 
cations from  the  Sjjirit  Spheres, by  J.  B. Fkkguson,"  (Nashville :  Svo.,  pp.  276  ;) 
but  it  has  notliing  in  it  professing  to  come  from  spirits,  but  unmitigated 
nonsense. 


(31.)  ^^  Notes  on  Central  Anicrirn,  particvlarhj  the  States  of  Honduras  and  San 
Salvador,  by  E.  G.  Squiku."  (New- York  :  Harper  &  Brothers ;  Svo.,  pp.  397.) 
This  volume  contains  a  large  amount  of  information  with  regard  to  a  region 
of  which  little  has  been  accurately  known  heretofore.  Even  the  general 
geography  of  Central  Amerlpa  has  been  so  mystified  that  we  could  make  nothing 
of  it;  and  as  for  minute  information  about  the  resources,  population,  &c.,  or 
even  about  state  lines,  it  was  nowhere  to  be  had.  The  maps  that  have  been 
published  (and  the^e  are  few)  have  abounded  in  blunders.  IMr.  Squier  has 
had  extensive  opportunities  of  gathering  accurate  data  upon  many  of  these 
points;  and  he  has  used  his  chances  with  great  industry  and  perseverance. 
This  book,  with  its  ample  map,  is  the  first  approach  to  a  "  Geography  of  Central 


1856.]  Shoi-t  Revieics  and  Notices  of  Books.  319 

America"  that  has  been  published  either  in  Europe  or  America,  and,  as  such, 
it  must  take  its  place  as  an  authority.  Several  valuable  papers  will  be  found 
in  the  Appendix;  and,  among  them,  an  account  of  the  "Bay  Islands,"  and  of 
their  recent  seizure  by  Great  Britain,  in  spite,  as  it  would  appear,  of  the  pro- 
visions of  the  Clayton-Bulwer  treaty.  "We  regret  that  Mr.  Squier  treats  this 
subject  with  a  bitterness  of  tone  that  will  be  apt  to  lessen  the  cfloct  his  argu- 
ment might  produce  if  stated  in  more  dispassionate  language. 


(32.)  '' Tltree  Questions  ansiceral :  What  is  Slarrn/?  Were  Slaveholders  Mem- 
bers of  the  Apostolic  Church  f  Shall  the  Church  adopt  the  Apostolic  Standard 
of  Discipline,  or  make  a  new  one?  by  the  llov.  G.  F.  Cox,  M.  A."  (Boston: 
J.  P.  Magee ;  pp.  40.)  Mr.  Cox  defines  slavery  to  be  "  power  ever  service," 
which  is  iru-idequatc.  But  the  definition  is  of  no  account  in  the  discussion. 
His  main  point  is,  that  both  slaveliolders  and  slaves  were  admitted  into  the 
AjMDstolic  Church — a  point  \Yhich  ho  makes  out  very  fully  ;  indeed,  the  wonder 
is  that  it  should  ever  have  been  disputed.  It  is  only  of  late  that  the  attempt 
has  been  made,  in  behalf  of  the  Anti-.-lavery  cause,  to  upset  the  settled  inter- 
pretation of  such  passages  as  1  Cor.  vii,  21  ;  Ei)li.  vi,  5-S :  1  Tim.  vi,  1 ;  Tit. 
ii,  9;  and  1  Pet.  ii,  18;  and,  in  our  judj^ment.  it  has  completely  failed.  But 
the  Anti-slavery  cause  docs  not  depend  upon  these  interpretations.  We  pity 
the  condition  of  that  man  who  can  read  the  Kcw  Testament,  and  not  feel  that 
it  13  penetrated,  through  and  through,  with  a  spirit  opj)oscd  to  all  oppression. 
Mr.  Cox's  conclusion  is,  that  the  IMethodist  Clmrch  ought  to  "  blot  out  of  her  Dis- 
cipline QXQry  word  upon  the  subjct  of  slavery" — a  conclusion  in  which  he 
will  stand  nearly  alone ;  indeed,  he  is  inconsistent  with  himself,  in  declaring 
that  the  Church  should  "  demand  good  treatment  for  the  slave,  food  and 
clothing,  religious  instruction,  and  command  obedience  to  the  master."  The 
questions  discussed  in  this  pamphlet  are  of  vast  importance ;  the  writer  treats 
them,  In  general,  calmly  and  temperately ;  and  wo  hope  that  his  essay  may  be 
vridely  circulated,  and  discussed  in  the  spirit  of  truth  and  in  the  love  of  it. 


(33.)  Carlton  &  Phillips  have  just  issued  a  new  edition  (the  sixth)  of 
*'-4  Theodicy;  or,  "[indication  of  (he  Dii-ine  Glory,  as  manifested  in  the  Consti- 
tution and  Government  of  the  Moral  World,  by  A.  T.  Bledsoe,  LL.  D." 
(8vo.,  pp.  3G8.)  Professor  Bledsoe  api>en(ls  to  this  edition  a  note,  in  which  he 
replies,  with  point  and  effect,  to  Dr.  M'Cosh's  notices  of  the  '•  Theodicy,"  in 
the  last  edition  of  his  treatise  on  the  "  Divine  Government." 


(34.)  "A  Commentary  on  the  Greek  Text  of  the  Epistle  of  Paul  to  the 
Colossians,  by  Joiln^  Eadie,  LL.  D."  (New-York :  K.  Carter  &  Brothers, 
1856;  8vo.,  pp.  308.)  Professor  Eadie's  labours  in  Biblical  literature  have 
been  altogether  creditable  to  him.  In  interpretation  he  has  not  been  quite  so 
6uccesst\d;  but  tliis  commentary  on  tlie  CoIo=<Ians  is  a  great  improvement 
upon  that  on  Ephesians ;  and,  indeed,  as  a  whole,  it  is  better  than  any  com- 
mentary produced  in  England  on  the  Epi.stle.  Dr.  Eadie  spares  no  pains  in 
studying  the  text,  and  evidently  seeks  to  give  it  its  meaning,  its  whole  meaning, 


320  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  ■  [April, 

and  nothing  but  its  meaning.  His  characteristic  fault  is  prolixity;  but  this 
book  is  freer  from  it  than  his  former  ones.  No  minister  of  the  Gospel,  who 
wishes  to  G;Ive  his  people  "  things  new  and  old,"  can  aflbrd  to  go  without  this 
commentary. 


(35.)  "A  Manual  of  Ancient  Ili.-tori/,  by  Dr.  Leonard  Schmitz."  (Phila- 
delphia: Blanchard  and  Lea;  12mo.,  pp.  466.)  This  manual  embraces,  be- 
sides the  histories  of  Greece  and  Rome,  an  outline  of  the  history  of  the  non- 
classical  nations,  down  to  the  overthrow  of  the  "Western  Empire,  A.  D.  476. 
The  Jewish  history  is  omitted,  for  reasons  stated  in  the  preface — reasons  by 
no  means  satisfactory.  The  general  arrangement  of  the  book  Is  good ;  but  itj 
execution,  in  detail,  is  not  such  as  to  adapt  it  for  use  in  schools. 


(36.)  ^^  Selections  from  the  British  Pod."!,  by  Eliza  WooDWORxn."  (New- 
York  :  Carlton  &  Phillips;  22mo.,  {>p.  3GJ.)  The  plan  of  this  book  of  Selec- 
tions is  Avell  conceived.  It  takes  in  the  whole  range  of  British  poets,  from 
Chaucer  down  to  Tennyson,  and  gives  brief  biographical  and  critical  notices  of 
each,  with  some  of  their  best  and  most  striking  passages  as  specimens 


(37.)  'T/^e  Attache'  in  Madrid,  translated  from  the  German"  (New- York: 
D.  Appleton  &  Co. ;  12mo.,  pp.  3C8.)  cont;iins  a  series  of  very  graphic  sketches 
of  the  Court  of  Spain,  and,  Indeed,  of  Spanish  society  in  general,  In  its 
modern  aspects.  The  Attache  was  a  very  bu;y  per.-:on — seeing  everything  and 
everybcH-ly — and  he  describes  what  he  saw  very  skilfully. 


(38.)  "  The  Day-Star  of  American  Freedom  ;  or^  the  Birth  and  early  Grotcth  of 
Toleration  in  the  Province  of  Maryland,  by  Gi:or.GE  Lyn-x-Laculan  Davis." 
(New- York  :  C.  Scribuer,  1855  ;  12mo.,  pp.  290.)  This  book  contains  a  good 
deal  of  information,  if  one  could  only  get  at  It ;  but  Mr.  Davis's  stjle  Is  so  in- 
flated, and  his  method  so  confused,  that  It  is  hard  work  even  to  read  his 
chapters.  He  has  evidently  been  industrious  In  collecting  materials,  bat  has 
failed  to  work  them  up  Into  a  clear  and  connected  history. 

(39.)  "  The  Prophets  of  the  Restoration  ;  or,  Ifaygai,  Zechariah,  and  Malachi; 
a  new  Translation,  n-ith  Notes,  by  the  Rev.  T.  A'.  Moore,  D.  D."  (New-York  : 
R.  Carter  &:  Brothers,  1856  ;  Svo.,  pp.  408.)  The  readers  of  this  journal  are 
familiar  with  Dr.  Moore's  contributions  to  our  own  pages,  and  therefore  need 
not  be  told  that  he  is  a  thinker,  a  student,  and  writer  of  very  rare  powers. 
The  commentary  on  Malachi,  which  forms  part  of  the  present  volume,  appeared 
originally  in  this  journal :  those  on  Hag^^ai  and  Zechariah  were  first  printed 
in  the  Quarterly  of  the  ^bnhodist  JCpiscopal  Church,  South.  All  who  have 
read  them  will  rejoice  to  see  them  collected  into  this  handsome  volume ;  to 
those  who  have  not,  we  commend  them  as  the  l>est  e.xposition  of"  the  Prophets 
of  the  Restoration  "  that  has  yet  appeared. 


1856.]  Short  Revieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.  321 

(40.)  In  no  field  has  the  rapid  development  of  this  countn-  been  more  marked 
than  in  that  of  literature.  How  rapid,  and  how  vast,  the  movement  has  been, 
however,  has  heretofore  been  only  matter  of  conjecture,  except  to  the  class  of 
literary  men  who  have  kept  watch  of  the  history  of  the  American  mind.  But 
the  means  of  appreciating  this  great  "  march  of  civilisation "  ought  to  be 
brought  within  the  reach  of  all  classes  of  reading  people  by  the  publication  of 
a  book  with  such  a  title  as  the  "  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature,  by  E.  A. 
DuYCKixCK  and  G.  L.  Duyckinck."  (New- York  :  C.  Scribncr,  18.'i5  ;  2  vols, 
imp.  Svo.)  This  work,  which  is  well  got  up,  so  far  as  the  mechanical  part  is 
concerned,  professes  to  embrace  "personal  and  critical  nollcos  of  American 
authors,  and  selections  from  their  writings,  from  the  earlic-;t  period  to  the 
present  day,  with  portraits,  autographs,  and  other  illustrations."  The  aim  of 
the  work  is  historical,  not  critical ;  to  show  what  books  have  been  produced  in 
America;  and  by  whom,  rather  than  "to  sit  in  judgment"  on  American 
authoi^ :  not,  however,  to  introduce  the  names  of  aU  who  have  written  books 
in  America :  that  would  be  to  make  a  complete  "  bibliography,"  not  a  historj' 
of  literature.  And  it  is  here,  precisely  whei-e  we  might  expect  it,  in  the 
province  o£ selection,  that  the  compilers  foil.  We  look  in  vain,  for  instance,  in 
their  index,  for  the  names  of  Asbnry,  Emory,  Durbin,  Fisk,  Bangs,  and 
others,  that  are  far  more  worthy  of  admittance  into  such  a  '•  Cyclopedia," 
than  many  that  have  found  entrance.  Th»j  comi)ilcrs  give  notices  of  most  of 
the  colleges  of  the  country,  including  sonic  of  the  least  important,  but  do  not 
seem  to  have  heard  of  the  "  Wcsleyan  University."  The  Messrs.  Duyckinck 
Lave  certainly  been  industrious ;  but  we  think  there  is  at  Iciist  one  field  of 
"  American  Literature  "  of  which  they  are  aliogether  ignorant.  "We  hope  they 
■will  enlarge  their  sphere  of  knowledge  before  issuing  a  new  edition  of  their 
book,  which,  in  spite  of  its  unaccountable  deOciencics,  has  great  merits. 


(41.)  "  The  Gospel  in  Ezehiel.  illustrated  in  a  S>rics  of  Di^-cotirses,  by  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Guthrie,  D.  D.,"  (New- York:  11.  Carter  &  Brothers,  185G  ;  12ma, 
pp.  395.)  is  a  volume  of  florid  lectures  on  a  passage  in  Ezekiel ;  well  enough 
adapted  to  a  popular  audience,  but  by  no  means  entitled  to  the  dignity  of  print, 
any  more  than  Dr.  Cummings's  effusions. 


(42.)  We  have  received  a  copy  of  the  "  PhjinoHth  Collection  of  Hymns  and 
Tunes,"  (New-Y"ork:  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co.,  ISJG;  8vo.,  pp.483,)  too  late,  how- 
ever, for  any  adequate  examination.  Our  impressions,  from  a  hasty  survey,  are 
altogether  favourable,  both  as  to  the  plan  of  the  work  and  its  execution.  We 
shall  endeavour  to  do  full  justice  to  it  hereafter. 


(43.)  "  Abaddon  and  Mahanaim  ;  or,  Demons  and  Guardian  Angels,  by  Joseph 
F.Berg,D.D."  (Philadelphia:  Iliggins  &  Fcrkinpinc,185G;  12mo.,  pp.  272.) 
The  design  of  this  book  is  to  "  ro.-torc  the  teacliinL^s  of  the  Scriptures  on  the 
subject  of  demoniacal  iulluence  to  their  proper  place  in  the  creed  of  Christian 
faith."  We  have  received  it  too  late  to  examine  it  in  time  for  adequate  notice 
in  this  number,  and  can  therefore  only  chronicle  its  appearance. 


322  Short  Revieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.  [April, 

.C'.'*  (44.)  "  The  Christian's  Great  Interest,  by  the  Eey.  'Wiixiam  GuTHRrE.** 
'  (New-York:  R.  Carter  &  Brothers,  1856  ;  12rao.,  pp.  252.)  Mr.  Guthrie  was 
a  very  eminent  Scotch  preacher  of  the  seventeenth  centur}-.  "  His  Great 
Interest"  has  been  often  reprinted  in  Scotland;  the  present  clition  was  issued 
by  Dr.  Chakuers,  who  funii^ilied  an  Introduction  to  it.  The  work  is  divided 
into  two  part^,  entitled  tlie  "  Trial  ot'  a  Saving  Interest  in  Christ,"  and  "  How 
to  attain  to  a  Sa'S'ing  Literest  in  Christ,"  and  both  arc  treated  with  discrimina- 
tion, and  applied  pointedly  to  the  conscience  of  the  reader. 


(45.)  "Evening  Incense,'"  (New-York:  Carter  &  Brothers,  1856;  ISmo., 
pp.  130,)  is  a  series  of  eveniiifr  prayers,  suitable  as  a  companion  to  the 
"  Morning  Watches,"  by  the  sanie  author. 


Of  the  following  pamphlets  we  regret  that  wo  can  only  give  the  titles : 

Report  of  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  for  1855.  By  T.  S. 
KiRKBRiDE.     Philadelphia,  1856. 

Jubilee  Sermon,  delivered  1)cforc  the  "Wesleyau  Canada  Conference,  at  Lon- 
don, C.  AV.,  June  6,  1855,  by  llev.  William  Ca.se.     Toronto,  1855. 

Fifteenth  Annual  Catalogue  of  the  New-Jersey  Conference  Seminary.  Free- 
bold/New-Jersey,  1855.  ' 

An  Address,  delivered  at  Pitt.-field,  Mass.,  before  the  Young  Ladies'  Institute, 
August  22,  1855,  by  J.\mks  11.  SrALDixo.     New- York,  1855. 

Science  and  the  Bible :  a  Review  of  Professor  Tayler  Lewis's  *'  Six  Days  of 
CVeatiou."     By  James  D.  Daxa.     Andovor,  1856. 

The  Jewelry  o^  God :  a  Sermon  preached  at  the  Funeral  of  Mrs.  IVIaiy  A. 
Burdick  Clark,  April  7,  1851,  by  llev.  Jos.  Cross,  D.  D.  Savannah, 
1855. 

The  Bible  in  its  Relations  to  Good  Citizenship:  a  Discourse  delivered  in 
PljTnouth  Chapel,  Adrian,  November  '20,  1855,  by  Rev.  T.  C.  Gardner, 
A.  M.     Adrian,  1855. 

Facts  against  Fancy;  or,  a  True  and  Jnst  View  of  Trinity  Church.  By  the 
Rev.  William  Berriax,  D.  1).     New- York,  1855. 

The  Faith  by  which  we  arc  Sanctified.  By  W.  P.  Strickxakd,  D.  D.,  of 
the  Cincinnati  Conference.     New- York,  1S5C. 

Religion  in  Common  Life  :  a  Sermon  prL^achcd  at  Crathic  Church,  October 
14,  1855,  before  Her  Majc-ty  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert,  by  the  Rev. 
Jonx  Caiud,  'M.  a.,  Mini.^ter  of  Errol,  Scotland.  Published  by  Her  Ma- 
jesty's command.     New-York:  Robert  Carter  &  Brothers,  1856. 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


323 


Art.  XI.— religious  AND  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE. 


KEUGI0U3  STATE  OF  KUROPE  AT  THE 

BEGINNING  OF  IsiS. 
Reugiocs  life  is  still  on  the  increase  in 
Europe,  as  it  hn  been  for  several  years; 
the  po-ner  of  indifferentism  begins  to  be 
broken  in  all  classes  of  society.  So  power- 
ful, indeed,  is  the  current  of  this  newly 
awakened  interest  iu  religion  that  all  the 
organs  of  public  opinion,  the  foremost 
representatives  of  the  anti-religious  pro=s 
not  excepted,  agree  in  bearing  witness 
to  it. 

PEOTESTA>*TIS}.r. 

Protestantism  in  particular  is  gaining 
evervvrhere  new  and  unwonted  strength. 
Atheism  and  nationalism  have  disappoint- 
ed the  European  nations  ;  and,  consequent- 
ly, the  masses  have  no  longer  any  con- 
fidence in  them,  and  are  longing  for  more 
substantial  reli.-ious  food.  This  revival 
of  European  Pr.;.to;tantisin,  it  must  be 
admitted,  shows  itself  almost  everywhere 
in  connexion  with  a  tendency  to  restore 
the  imperfect  forms  of  the  Reformation  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  But  there  is  also, 
on  the  other  hand,  in  every  Protestant 
country,  a  constantly  increasing  numl'Or 
of  men,  who  plead  the  cause  of  S'pora- 
tion  of  Church  and  State  as  an  indispeniiible 
condition  for  the  success  of  the  new  re- 
formation of  the  present  day. 

Many  events  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
last  yerj  contributed  to  strengthen  the 
Free  Church  party  of  Europe.  First  of 
all,  the  great  Ass-yrnUy  at  Paris.  This 
brotherly  meeting  of  so  many  different 
denominations,  this  frank  recognition  of 
the  Christian  character  of  other  denomi- 
nations than  our  owu,  is  new  to  tlio  Eu- 
ropeans ;  and  in  Europe,  therefore,  tho 
fact  itself  of  such  a  meeting  is  a  great 
victory.  Only  lot  th-f:  meetings  bo  re- 
peated at  regular  intervals,  and,  ere  long, 
the  principle  of  religious  liberty  will  bo 
triumphant  iu  Europe  as  it  is  in  America. 
Protestant  countries,  at  least,  will  not 
dare  any  longer  to  keep  up  the  intolerant 
statutes  of  centuries  past,  if  assemblies, 
like  that  of  Paris,  brand  the  intolerance 
of  Protestant  Sweden  and  Germany  in 
stronger  espresaions  than  that  of  Catho- 
lic Austria  and  M'jhammedan  Turkey, 
and  if  they  continue  to  adopt  the  lan;ruage 
of  Fredepjck  Mokod,  the  distinguished 
French  divine,  "  Shame  on  every  form  of 
intolerance,  but  three  times  shame  on  the 
intolerance  of  a  Protestant  country." 


Next  to  the  Assembly  of  Paris,  the  Freo 
Church  party  is  indebted  to  the  success- 
fill  labours  of  the  Free  Churches  already 
eriatinj  in  Exirupe.  Scotland  is  still  the 
only  country  where- the  majority  of  the 
Protestant  population  is,  in  its  religious 
aft'airs,  free  from  the  direct  influence  of 
the  secular  govornnicnt.  ]!ut  in  all  otl-'^r 
parts  of  Europe  free  organizations  are 
springing  up  and  flourishing.  The  Meth- 
odist and  Baptist  missions  are  prominent 
in  this  respect.  They  advance,  although 
slowly,  yet  steadily  in  Germany,  France, 
and  the  ScaiuUiiavia;i  world  ;  and  the  Baj)- 
tists  in  particular  have  had  important 
accessions  to  their  ranks  from  the  State 
Churches  of  these  countries.  Still  more 
important  than  the  progress  of  these 
Free  Churches  as  separate  bodies,  is  the 
intluenco  whieh  they  exert  by  calling  forth 
similar  moveui'.uts-  among  the  members 
of  the  European  State  Churches.  The 
number  and  importance  of  these  move- 
ments become  greater  every  year.  In 
Germany  the  v,  arning  of  a  man  like  Bt,"X- 
SES,  in  his  lately  published  work,  '^Zeichen 
der  Zait,"  (Signs  of  the  Times,)  -against 
the  Romanizing  idea  of  a  Christian  State 
and  Christian  State  Churches,  will  not  re- 
main unlicedcd.  The  old  Lutheran  Church, 
although  at  present,  unfortunately,  mis- 
guided by  the  Romanizing  teudencits  of 
some  of  her  leaders,  yet  helps,  on  her 
jiart,  to  undermine  the  sovereignty  of  the 
State  over  the  Church.  >^o  less  prom- 
ising is  the  mutual  pledge  taken  by  a 
vast  numWr  of  clcr;^ymen  in  the  Ecan.jd- 
ieaZ  StaU  Church  nf  Frunaia,  to  derive  their 
j.rinciples  on  tho  marriage  and  divorce 
law  no  lom^tT  from  the  civil  law  of  Prus- 
sia alone,  but  from  the  New  Testament 
and  the  teachings  of  the  Reformation  of  the 
siiteenth  century;  and,  consequently,  to 
remarry,  henceforth,  no  persons  except 
those  who,  themselves  innocent,  had  been 
divorced  in  consequence  of  adultery  or 
desertion  of  the  othe-r  party.  The  in- 
creasing number  of  religious  associations, 
such  as  the  '•  Kirchentag,"  "  Gustavus 
Adolphus  .Association,"  "  Home  Mission," 
etc.,  will  likewise  confirnj  masses  of  the 
people  in  the  conviction  that  the  atiairs 
of  the  Church  are  better  managed  by  the 
Church  liersclf  than  by  tho  State.  In 
France  the  eloquent  voice  of  Count  .\ge- 
nor  da  Gasjiarin,  one  of  the  leaders  of 
French  Protestantism,  has  lately  pleaded 
the  cause  of  religious  liberty  in  a  master- 


324 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[April, 


ly  article  in  the  Archicea  dit. Christ ianisme, 
(November  24.)  Thoughts  so  vigorous, 
noble,  and  pious,  cannot  remain  without 
result.  In  England  the  desire  for  having 
the  Convocation  resuscitated  is  by  no 
means  decreasing.  The  position  in  which 
the  Established  Church  finds  herself,  in 
comparison  with  other  Eurojican  Churches, 
is  too  anomalous,  and  the  number  ot"  pious 
nnd  learned  men  iu  it  is  still  too  great,  to 
let  us  believe  that  the  State  Government 
will  be  able  to  retain  much  bini-cr  the 
absolute  control  of  this  important  portion 
of  the  Christian  Church  of  Europe.  The 
Lutheran  State  Church  of  l.k'nmark  is 
shaken  to  its  deepest  foundation  by  the 
National  Free  Church  party,  which  en- 
deavours to  form  a  great  Free  Christian 
Church  of  the  Scandinavian  North.  I'.ut 
lately,  a  leader  of  the  Lutheran  jiarty, 
Eudelbach,  complained,  iu  a  conference 
of  German  Lutherans  at  Leipzig,  that 
the  Lutheran  Church  of  Denmark  was  in 
greater  danger  of  losing  its  privileges 
than  ever  before. 

ROMAXISM. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church  of  Europe 
is  Btill  rejoicing  at  the  Austrian  Co.v- 
CORBAT.  Romanists  are  not  mistaken  in 
considering  it  one  of  the  most  important 
events  in  the  history  of  their  Church  in 
the  present  century.  They  begin  to  feel 
that  the  influence  of  the  Church  on  the 
European  natious  has  become  extremely 
doubtful.  M  hy  does  the,  I'ope  not  dure 
to  dismiss  the  French  trooj)S  from  Rome? 
The  last  Parliament  cf  the  French  repub- 
lic showed  no  more  sympathits  with  the 
tendencies  of  the  Catholic  party  than  the 
present  rarliaments  of  Spain  and  Portu- 
gal do,  and  in  Austria  more  than  live- 
sixths  of  the  periodical  press  are,  as  a 
Catholic  paper  complains,  under  anti-Ro- 
man influence.  Thus  is  easily  explained 
the  great  importance  zealous  Romanists 
attach  to  the  friendly  disjiositior.s  toward 
their  Church  on  the  part  of  European 
monarchs.  Both  Church  and  princes 
have  a  common  interest  in  keeping  down 
civil  and  religious  liberty.  Thus  the  Ro- 
man Church  has  had  great  concessions 
made  to  her  by  Catholic  us  well  as  Protes- 
tant princes.  But  no  State  had  yielded  up 
to  her  so  much  as  Austria.  To  place  the 
vfhole  system  of  education  and  the  whole 
press  under  the  control  of  the  bishops, 
and  to  recognise  wiihout  reserve  tlie  va- 
lidity of  the  canon  law  to  its  full  ex- 
tent, is  more  than  jirobably  any  German 
Romanist  had  expected  to  see  granted. 
The  bishops  are  not  slow  to  avail  them- 


selves of  such  opportunities  ;  they  isane 
circulars  to  the  professors  cf  the  national 
Gymnasium,  instructing  them  how  to  teach 
history  ;  and  the  Archbishops  of  Milan  and 
Venice,  with  other  Lombardian  bishops, 
assume  already  the  right  to  tell  booksell- 
ers what  books  they  are  allowed  to  keep 
and  to  sell.  Austria  nc^ds  the  support 
of  the  Church ;  and  if  the  emperor  con- 
cluded the  Concordat,  as  the  Univers  as- 
serts, to  fulul  a  promise  made  to  his  dying 
teacher,  the  .\ustrian  ministers  Cone  of 
whom  is  a  Protestant)  were  in  favour  of  it, 
only  because  it  seemed  to  them  difEcult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  find  other  means  by 
which  to  form  out  of  difierent  and  some- 
times hostile  races  one  nationt.1  Austrian 
party.  The  revolution  of  ISIS  has  shown 
to  every  Austrian,  that  without  such  a  na- 
tional party  it  is  an  impossibility  to  pre- 
serve the  integrity  of  the  empire.  If  this 
union  of  the  Roman  Church  and  the  gov- 
ernment of  Austria  should  continue  long, 
the  favourable  consequences  of  the  C-oncor- 
dat  for  the  Roman  Church  can  hardly  be 
overrated,  "\^■hoever  is  acquainted  with 
German  literature  will  understand  what 
the  Roman  Church  may  hope  from  having 
under  her  control  some  twenty  universities, 
more  tlian  two  hundred  gymnasia,  almost 
all  the  common  schools,  and  the  whole  press 
of  a  popul.".tion  of  thirty-six  millions  of  in- 
habitants. Until  ISiS  the  Austrian  Cath- 
olics were  not  allowed  by  their  government 
to  join  those  associations  and  societies 
which  have  lately  had  so  great  a  part  in  re- 
suscitating mediaeval  Catholicism,  the  Fo- 
reign and  Home  Missionary  Societies,  the 
confraternities  and  monastic  orders.  All 
these  associations  had  in  Austria  a  na- 
tional, instead  of  a  Roman  character,  and 
were  not  allowed  to  communicate  with 
similar  organizations  in  Rome  and  other 
countries.  If  the  Roman  Church  should 
succeed  in  reawakening  in  a  considerable 
part  of  Austria  a  lively  interest  in  her 
c.iuse,  it  v.ill  be  felt  all  over  Euroue. 

Next  to  Austria,  the  internal  develop- 
ment of  France  is  of  the  greatest  con- 
sequence for  the  fate  of  the  Roman  Church. 
The  French  government  has  not  prostrat- 
ed herself  at  the  feet  of  Rome,  as  Austria ; 
she  has  made  a  compromise  without  giving 
up  entirely  the  supreme  control  of  Church 
allairs.  In  the  important  department  of 
education,  in  particular,  the  bishops  must 
condescend  to  share  the  government  and 
superintendence  of  the  state  scliools  with 
Protestants,  Jews,  and  Pantheists.  But 
they  are  satisfied  to  see  the  emperor  and 
almost  all  oilicers  of  the  state  eagerly 
endeavouring   to  appear  as   frieuds    and 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  hitcUi 


325 


obedient  members  of  the  Churcb;  to  find 
for  all  her  institutions  not  only  full  liberty 
of  development,  but  often  eucourajemfnt 
and  support.  The  priesthood  of  France  as  a 
body  is  more  zealous  and  moral  than  that 
of  any  other  Catholic  country  ;  if  the  laity 
of  a  nation,  so  far  advanced  in  modern  civ- 
ilisation as  Franco  is,  can  be  won  by  such  a 
priesthood,  they  may  be  expected  to  prove 
an  efficient  aid.  This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  most  of  those  societies  which  v.ork  so 
effectually  for  reviving  Romanism,  spriitor 
up  in  France;  for  foreign  missions,  l  ranee 
contributes  as  much  as  the  rest  of  the 
Catholic  world  tocrether.  As  to  the  rcli;::^- 
ions  views  of  the  emperor,  few  if  any 
believe  him  a  sincere  Catholic ;  Prince 
Napoleon  is  still  more  suspected,  and 
Prince  Murat,  the  emperor's  cousin,  is 
known  to  be  the  Grand  blaster  of  the  ex- 
communicated order  of  Freemasons.  The 
unfavourable  iuipressiou  of  facts  like  these 
is  somewhat  counterbalanced,  however, 
by  the  Catholic  zeal  of  another  cousin  of 
the  emperor.  Prince  Lucien  Bonaparte, 
■who  was  ordained  a  priest  about  two  years 
ago,  and  is  now  a  member  of  the  Benedic- 
tine Order,  and  exercises  all  his  influence 
to  obtain  from  the  government  favours  for 
the  French  Church. 

In  Italy  several  princes  (Tuscany,  Par- 
ma, Modeual  have  followed,  or  are  about 
to  follow,  the  example  of  Austria.  The 
King  of  Naples  is  still  at  variance  with 
the  pope  on  account  of  the  Jesuits,  but 
the  dissidence  will  probably  be  of  no 
long  duration.  The  Kin?  of  Sardinia 
appears  still  det-rmined  to  preserve  a  noble 
independence.  His  answer  to  the  address 
0^  the  Christian  Young  Men's  Society  of 
London  shows,  that  he  is  resolved  to  protect 
the  rights  of  his  Protestant  as  well  as  his 
Catholic  subjects.  No  country  of  Europe  is 
■watched  with  greater  anxiety  by  the  friends 
of  religious  liberty  than  Sardinia;  a  great 
part  of  the  population  is  almost  ready  to 
leave  the  Pioman  Church  ;  ministry  and  I'.ir- 
liamentvie  in  vigorously  opposing  lioniau 
pretensions  ;  the  press  almost  unanimous- 
ly considers  and  treats  Rome  as  the  im- 
placable enemy  of  the  free  institutions  of 
the  country  ;  the  budget  has  this  year 
for  the  first  time  a  sum  (G,42G  francs) 
for  Protestant  worship. 

In  Spain,  the  Roman  Catholic  party  in 
the  Parliament  counts  hardly  more  than 
twenty  reliable  members;  the  property  of 
the  Church  i-;  sellin,'  well;  the  pre>3  is 
free,  and  defends  its  freedom  against 
the  Church,  the  only  party  striving  to 
subvert  it ;  the  clergy  find  that  when 
their  salary  is  not  regularly  paid  by  the 


government,  they  cannot  rely  for  support 
on  their  congregations.  In  Portugal,  the 
Romanist  party  is  stronger,  counting  about 
one-third  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives; but  here,  as  in  Spain,  the  govern- 
ment is  decidedly  hostile  to  its  pretensions. 
Br.LoiLJi  has  at  present  a  ministry  be- 
longing to  the  Catholic  party  ;  the  clergy 
is  gaining  greater  influence  over  the  na- 
tional schools,  and  making  great  endeav- 
ours to  bring  them  entirely  under  its  con- 
trol. In  proportion  to  its  population,  Bel- 
gium ranks  n^-xt  to  France  in  activity  for 
Romanism. — The  Papists  of  Pi-.ussia  and 
the  other  tiv-rman  states  avail  thcDiselves 
to  some  extent  of  the  results  of  Protes- 
tant literature.  Less  active,  in  a  practi- 
cal point  of  view,  than  the  French  and 
Belgians,  they  are  the  prominent  cham- 
pions of  Romanism  in  the  province  of  lit- 
erature. The  French,  Italians,  English, 
and  Spanish  are  continuing  to  acknowledge 
the  merits  of  their  Catholic  brethren  of 
Germany  by  numerous  translations;  and 
not  a  few  of  the  German  text-books 
on  Church  history  (Dollingcr,  Alzog). 
canon  law  (Phillips,  M'alter),  exegesis 
(Jahn,  Hug),  &.C.,  are  introduced  into  in- 
stitutions of  almost  every  country  of  Eu- 
rope. Also  during  the  last  year  the 
Catholic  press  of  Germany  produced  a 
number  of  valuable  works.  (See  Jlethod. 
Quart.  Rev.,  (Jet.,  ISoJ,  pp.  G3J-C3S.) 
The  Catholics  of  Prussia  have  been  the  first 
to  organize  themselves  openly  as  a  polit- 
ical Cathoiie  party.  The  Caiholic  sec- 
tion of  the  present  Parliament  numbers 
some  sixty  members.  Last  year  they 
sueeeeded,  by  a  combination  with  the  lib- 
eral party,  in  having  their  leader,  Reich- 
ensperger,  elected  vice-president  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  At  the  organ- 
ization of  the  jiresent  house,  both  the 
liberals  and  Catholics  together  were  de- 
feated by  the  conservative  (Russian)  par- 
ty. In  Enolanp,  the  last  year  has  carried 
ovt  r  si^nie  more  of  the  Pnseyistic  clergy 
and  nobility  to  Rome,  iRevs.  Wheeler, 
Somers,  Woodward;  the  Duchess  of  Buc- 
cleugh,  Hon.  Mrs.  Henniker.)  These 
accessions  to  the  Roman  Church  are  by 
no  means  equal  in  number  to  what  Prot- 
estantism eains,  especially  in  Ireland; 
but  Catholic  literature  gains  by  them 
some  new  contributors,  and  Catholic  insti- 
tutions wealthy  j)atruns.  Ireland  is 
evidently  and  rapidly  losing  it.i  character 
of  a  stri'n.'liold  of  Romanism  ;  the  lea. ling 
organ  of  ISlframontanism  complains  oiteu 
that  they  have  not  much  over  half  a 
dozen  members  of  Parliament  who  are 
trustworthy  Catholics ;  the  pope  has  for- 


326 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[April, 


tiddcn  the  Irish  clergy  to  take  an  active 
part  in  political  avjiiatiou,  and  has  thereby 
created  a  great  dissatisfaction  iu  some 
of  the  Irish  bishops  and  the  majority  of 
clergy  and  people.  Frederic  Lucas,  than 
whom  British  Catholicism  has  not  had  a 
more  zealous  leader,  tried  in  vain  to  avert 
this  resolution  of  the  ]iopo,  and  died  of  a 
broken  heart.  The  dissatisfaction  with 
Rome  is  increased  iu  Ireland  still  more  by 
the  circunistaiioe,  that  liome  repeatedly 
refuses  to  r.itify  the  nominations  made  by 
the  Irish  cler^'y  for  vacant  Episcopal  sees, 
and  appoints  bishops  against  the  v.ish  of 
the  clergy  and  the  people.  In  Russia, 
the  FvOnian  Church  expects  better  times 
tinder  Emperor  Alexander  11. ;  several  va- 
cant sees  of  Poland  are  about  to  be  filled, 
and  other  promises  are  held  out  to  the 
pope  ;  but  the  Jesuits  have  been  forbidden 
to  hold  missions  iu  Poland,  and  secessions 
from  the  Greek  to  the  Roman  Church 
have  been  fined  as  before. 

OKIEXT.a.  CHUIKHE3. 
In  the  Gr.Er.K  and  other  Op.iEyTAL 
Churchos,  tiie  formerly  predominant  Rus- 
sian influence  has  been  broken  by  the  war. 
With  the  aid  of  France  and  .\ustri,  anew 
efforts  have  been  made  to  resuscitate  Ro- 
manizing tendencies  iu  the  midst  of  these 
bodies,  and  to  prepare  the  people  for  a 
union  with  Rome.  The  Greek  Church  has 
been  addressed  to  this  purpose  by  a  certain 
Pitfipios  in  his  work,  "  L'Eglise  Orientale," 


(1  vol.  Rome:  1855);  for  the  refutation 
of  vhich  the  Greek  synod  has  appointed 
a  committee,  consisting  of  the  ex-patriarch 
Costanzo  and  the  learned  Dr.  Karatheo- 
dory.  In  the  Armenian  Church,  the  di- 
rector general  of  the  Turkish  powder 
manufactory,  Boghos  Dadian,  has  direct- 
ed a  pamphlet  of  the  same  kind  to  the 
Armenian  patriarch  in  Constantinople, 
The  author,  it  is  said,  found,  during  his 
journey  through  Europe,  the  liveliest 
sympathy  and  great  encourai^enient  from 
the  Freuch  emperor.  Being  by  birth  and 
position  a  prominent  member  of  his 
Church,  his  work  calls  forth  some  excite- 
ment. The  Roman  missions  in  Turkey 
are  in  a  very  flourishing  state,  aud  their 
prospects  are  better  than  ever  before. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  noble  exertions 
of  American,  English,  and  German  mis- 
sionaries of  evangelical  Churches  are 
likewise  crowned  vsith  great  success. 
There  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  the 
next  years  will  have  to  record  great 
changes  in  the  religious  life  of  Turkey. 

In  the  Greek  Church  of  Russia,  the  old 
Greek  party,  which  is  ojiposcd  to  the  union 
of  State  aud  Church  aud  to  the  position 
of  the  Czar  in  the  Church,  has  given  some 
signs  of  life.  In  Greece,  the  flourishing 
University  of  Athens  and  the  new  ly  organ- 
ized system  of  public  instruction,  as  well 
as  the  successful  labours  of  American  mis- 
sionaries, will  probably  arouse  the  national 
Church  from  her  lethargy. 


Cljcological  axxb  Cilcrfirti. 


Dr.  CujLr.LF3  Elliott's  new  work  on 
slavery  is  nearly  ready  for  the  press.  It 
will  be  the  most  learned  and  thorough 
investigation  of  the  \\hole  subject  of  an- 
cient slavery  that  has  yet  appeared  in  the 
English,  or  perhaps  in  any  other  language. 
It  will  treat, 

I.  Of  Roman  slavery  in  general,  the 
facts  and  doctrines  being  drawn  almost 
wholly  from  the  original  sources  of  infor- 
mation, s'w.,  the  civil  law. 

II.  The  Paulo-post  Apostolic  discipline 
on  slavery,  collated  with  Roman  law. 

III.  The  discipline  of  the  Church  of 
Rome  on  .slavery.  The  sources  here  axe 
the  Canon  law,  collated  with  Scripture 
and  the  Roman  law. 

IV.  The  effects  of  Christian  principles 
and  practice  in  Roman  legislation.  Here 
the  learned  author  has  drawn  upon  the 
Roman  code,  comparing  and  collating  the 
contemporary  historians,  sacred  and  pro- 
fane. 


The  work  has  required  great  labour  and 
research,  and,  in  fact,  could  only  have 
been  executed  by  a  man  of  thorough 
scholarship  and  indomitable  industry, 
like  Dr.  Elliott.  We  hope  soon  to  see  it 
issue  from  the  press. 

MEssas.  Carlton  and  Phillips  are  pre- 
paring for  spesdy  publicaiion  a  volume  of 
great  interest  to  the  Methodist  public, 
under  the  title  of  "-The  Heroes  of  Meth- 
odisiA ;  containing  Skrtchen  of  Bminent 
Jf'thodist  Miniftcrt  and  Characterixtic  Aiieo- 
dotes  of  their  Personal  History,  by  the  Rev. 
J.  D.  WakdexjP  The  work  will  doubtless 
have  a  great  run. 

A  GLKAT  stir  has  been  caused  in  the 
Church  of  Eugland  by  tie  publication  of 
a  commentary  entitled,  "JA-;  Diiiiflci  of 
St.  Paul  to  the  Thfuiiloui'in^,  Galotians, 
Pomani :  vith  Critical  Xr.les  nnd  Pi^ser- 
tntiom,"  by  Bex.ja»iis  Jowett,  M.  A., 
Fellow  and'  Tutor  of  Ralliol  College,  Ox- 
ford.     (London :  Murray,   1855.    2  vols. 


1856.]  Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


327 


8to.)  The  following:  summary  of  Mr. 
Jowett's  views  is  taken  from  the  Loiicioa 
Quarterly  Review  :  "  '  Even  in  the  counsels 
of  perfection  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
there  is  probably  nothing  which  might 
not  be  found,  in  letter  or  spirit,  in  Philo 
or  some  other  Jewish  \vriter;'  and  the 
language  of  the  Xew  Testament,  though 
•the  language  of  the  Old  Testament'  in 
part,  '  is  still  more  the  language  of  tho 
Alexandrian  philosophy.'  lu  short,  ac- 
cording to  his  shoTviny,  Christianity  itself 
vould  appear  to  be  the  product  of  a  fu- 
sion of  Platonic,  Oriental,  and  Jewish 
philosophy  together,  -with  the  addition  of 
another  element  supplied  by  the  teaching 
of  Christ  and  his  apostles,  to  give  it  a 
consistency,  and,  above  all,  a  power, 
which,  in  the  other  three  elements,  were 
wanting.  The  following  are  specimens 
of  the  theology  to  be  found  in  the  Notes : 
'  We  cannot  say  that  all  men  are  regener- 
ate or  unregenerate.  All  things  may  be 
passing  out  of  one  state  into  the  other, 
and  may  therefore  belong  to  both  or 
neither.  J.Iaukind  are  not  divided  into 
regenerate  and  unregenerate,  but  arc  in 
a  state  of  transition  from  the  one  to  the 
other,  or  too  dead  and  unconscious  to  be 
iucluded  in  either.'  .\gain,  comparing 
Gal.  ii,  19,  20,  .Air.  Jowett  'traces  three 
stages  in  the  Christian  state:  1.  Deatli ; 
2.  Death  with  Christ ;  3.  Christ  living  in 
us.  First,  we  are  one  with  Christ,  and 
then  Christ  is  put  in  our  place.  So  far 
■we  are  using  the  same  language  with  the 
Apostle.  At  the  next  stage  a  ditference 
appears.  "We  begin  with  figures  of  speech 
— sacrifice,  ransom,  Lamb  of  God  ;  and 
go  on  with  logical  determinations — finite, 
infinite,  satisfaction,  necessity,  or  the  na- 
ture of  things.  St.  Paul  also  begins  with 
figures  of  speech — life,  death,  the  tlosh  ; 
but  passes  on  to  the  inward  experience  of 
the  life  of  faith,  and  the  consciousness  of 
Christ  dwelling  in  us.'  'When  it  is  said, 
that  "  Christ  g.ive  himself  for  our  sins,"  or 
as  a  sin-o tiering,  the  shadow  must  not  be 
put  in  the  place  of  the  substance,  or  the 
Jewish  image  for  the  truth  of  the  Gospel. 
Of  such  language,  it  may  be  remarked, 
(1.)  That  it  is  figurative,  natural,  and 
intelligible  to  that  age,  not  equally  so  to 
us  ;  (2.)  That  the  figures  themselves  are 
varied,  thereby  showing  that  they  are 
figures  only,  and  not  realities  or  matters 
of  fict;  (3.)  That  the  same  sacrifi.-.ial 
language  is  applied  alriio^t  eiiually  to  the 
beli'ever  and  his  Lord;  (4.)  That  the 
effect  and  meaning  of  this  language  must 
have  been  very  ditTereut,  while  the  sacri- 
fices were  bein^  daily    offered,   and   now 


that  they  have  passed  away;  (5.)  That 
such  expressions  seldom  occur  in  the 
writings  of  St.  Paul,  another  class  of 
figures,  in  which  the  believer  is  identitied 
with  the  various  stages  of  the  Life  of 
Christ,  being  far  more  common  ;  (6.)  That, 
in  general,  the  thing  meant  by  them  is, 
that  Christ  took  upon  him  human  flesh, 
that  he  was  put  to  death  by  sinful  men, 
and  raised  racn  out  of  the  !~tate  of  sin, 
in  thig  sense,  taking  their  sins  upon  him- 
self.' '  We  nowhere  find  in  the  Epistles 
the  expression  of  justification  by  Christ, 
exactly   in    the  sense  of  modern   theolo- 

AU  parlies  in  the  Church,  Tract^rians, 
Evang.-lioals,  even  liroad  Churchmen, 
seem  to  have  taken  the  alarm.  Dr.  Go- 
lightly  uud  Dr.  McBride,  both  of  Oxford 
(EviUigeiicals)  v.erc  the  llrst  to  interfere 
in  tho  matter,  and  called  on  the  vice 
chancellor  of  the  University  to  require 
Jlr.  Jowett  to  sign  the  articles  of  the 
Church  of  England.  Mr.  Jowett  signed 
them  ! 

A.vo.NG  the  new  works  recently  an- 
nounced on  the  continent  of  Europe  are 
the  following : 

Lie.  Dr.  Weiss,  Der  petrinische  Lehrbe- 
gritT.  P.eitr::go  zur  billischen  Theologie, 
sowio  zur  Kritik  und  Exegese  des  ersten 
P.rief.'s  Petri  uud  der  petrinischcn  Keden. 
Pp.   144,  Svo. 

Introduetio  in  dogmaticam  Christianam, 
scripsit  Dr.  Theodorus  Albertus  Liebner. 
Leipzig:  P.irts  L  II.,  Svo. 

Phih'sophische  Dogmatik,  oder  :  Philo- 
Rojihie  d.-s  Chriitenthums,  von  Ch.  H. 
■\\'iisse.    ^'ol.  i,  Svo. 

Dr.  Joh.  Carl  Ludw.  Gieseler's  Dogoien- 
gcschichte,  bis  auf  die  Reformation.  Aus 
seiiiem  Xachlasse  lierausgegeben  vou  Dr. 
E.  II.  lledL[ienning.   Svo. 

Die  IlekcnntniKsschriften  der  altprote- 
stantischeu  Kirche  Deutschlands.  Her- 
ausgegebcu  von  Dr.  Ikinrich  Heppe.   bvo. 

lir.  v..  P.cliiner,  Leb:;  Verfassor  u.  Ab- 
fassungs;:cit  d.  Johanneischeu  Apokalypse 
und  zur  bibl.  Typic.     Halle :  Svo. 

IV.  J.  H.  Friedlieb,  Geschichte  des  Le- 
bens  Jesu  Christi,  mit  chronologischen 
und  andcrn  historisehen  L'ntersuchungen, 
I'.reslau  :  pp  iliT,  Svo. 

Dr.  K.  11.  Hagenb.ach,  Die  christliche 
Kirche  vom  vicrtcn  bis  sechsten  Jahrhnn- 
dert.     Leiiizi-:  pp.  3^tS.  Svo. 

W.  F.  llinek,  Die  KulL'ion  der  llollenen 
aiis  d.'u  Mythen,  den  Lehren,  dor  Philo- 
sophic und  dem  Cultus  cntwickelt.  II. 
Band.  2.  Abth  :  ^lysterienfeier,  Orakel, 
Ewigkeit  u.  Heilignng,  nebst  dem  PwCgi- 
ster.     Zurich  :  pp.  331-58.1,  Svo. 


328 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[April, 


We  cont'mue  our  summaries  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  principal  theological  journals  : 

2%eolojicu(  and  Litrmri/  Jouniat,  for 
January  :  I.  Professor  Sanborn's  Kssay  on 
Millenarianism :  II.  Notes  on  Scripture, 
Critical  Conjectures :  III.  Th^?  Parables  of 
the  New  Testament :  IV.  Professor  Lewis's 
Response  in  the  New-York  tJl'scrver  in 
Reference  to  his  Sis  Days  of  Creation :  V. 
A  Designation  and  Esposition  of  the  Fig- 
ures of  Isai-ih,  chap,  xxxiv. 

Qunrtrrly  H^innr  of  thr  Mrth.-.di-t  r,n^n>. 
pal  Chin-ch,  South,  ior  Januo-ry:  I.  The  Dis- 
position of  Tiberius  Caesar  and  Marcus 
Aarelius  toward  the  Christians  :  II. 
Chastel  on  Charity  :  III.  Christ,  not  Peter, 
the  Rock :  IV.  Theodorc'.Vjrippa  D'Au- 
bijne  :  y.  Miiller  on  the  Christian  Doctrine 
of  .Sin  :  VI.  Philosophy  of  Methodist  Itin- 
erancy. 

Christian  Examiner,  and  Rrlijionf  Mij<o:l- 
lany,  fur  January  :  I.  The  Hebrew  Doctrine 
of  a  Future  Life:  II.  Religious  Prospects 
of  Germany:  HI.  The  .\morican  Church: 

IV.  Morning' :  V.  A  Half-Century  of  the 
Unitarian  Controversy  :  VI.  Mr.  'Ihacl;cray 
as  a  Novelist:  VII.  Romanism  in  the  Is- 
land of  Malta. 

Pretihrjicrian  Quaylerli/  Rcvirv,  for  Decem- 
ber :  1.  The  Foreign  Mission  Question: 
n.  Are  the  Plancis  Inhabited  ?  HI.  Tlie 
Life,  Character,  and  Services  of  I'.'-v.  Ilol.t. 
H.  Bishop,  I).  D. :  IV.  Dr.  llickok^s  Works : 

V.  Professor  Lewis's  View  of  the  "  Days" 
of  Creation:  VI.  Literary  and  Theoloijical 
Intelligence. 

Chriilian  Kn-iew.  for  July  :  1.  The  Critics 
on  Ju<Ias  Lcariot:  II.  The  I'.ov.  William 
Jay  :  III.  Classical  Studies  in  this  Count)  y  : 
IV.  The  Intermediate  State  :  V.  1h<-  Old 
Testament,  Jud^jed  by  the  New :  VI.  A 
Search  for  the  Church':  VIL  Geographical 
Accuracy  of  the  Bible. 

Chrihtirai  J'cvicic,  for  January  :  I.  -fls- 
thetic  Influence  of  Nature  :  II.  The  Uni- 
corn :  III.  Spencer  H.  Cone,  I).  D.  :  IV. 
General  View  uf  Theological  Science  :  V. 
Origeu:  VI.  Cuuucil  of  Trent:  VII.  Prog- 
ress of  Baptist  Principles. 

Jlfercernbunjh  Quarter/if  Jifvieir,  for  Jan- 
nary  :  I.  Boardman  on  the  Christian  Min- 
istry :  II.  Sketches  of  a  Traveller  from 
Greece,  Constantinople,  .\sia  Minor.  Syria, 
and  Palestine :  III.  Faith  and  Reason  : 
IV.  Chief  Justice  Gibson:  V.  Ab.'lard. 
Abraham,  and  .Vdatn  :  \\.  Liturgical  Con- 
tributions. 

i'luver^aHHt  Qw,rtcr!v  an^i  Oni'ral  Re- 
view, (Boston.)  for  January  :  I.  Newman's 
Hebrew  Monarchy:  II.  The  Chief  .\ppeal 
of  Religion:  IIL  Skepticism:  its  Causes; 
its  Cure  :  IV.  The  Condition  and  Prospects 


of  Freedom :  V.  Heathen  Views  of  the 
Punishment  of  Sin. 

Ecanjdical  Revictc,  (Getty sbiirgh.  Pa.,) 
for  January  :  I.  Commentary  on  the  Gos- 
pel of  John,  by  Tholuck  :  II.  The  Sisms 
of  the  Times  :  lU.  A  high  Standard'  of 
Piety  demanded  by  the  Times  :  IV.  Remi- 
niscences of  Lutheran  Clergymen  :  V. 
Bachman  on  the  Unity  of  the  Human 
Race  :  AT.  Our  General  Synod  :  VH.  Hym- 
nology. 

Wc^tr,iiniter  Rcn'ev.  (London.'!  for  Janu- 
ary: I.  German  Wit:  Ilcinrich  Heine: 
II.' The  Limited  Liability  Act  of  Ho5  ;  IIL 
History  of  the  House  of  Savoy  :  IV.  Rus- 
sia and  the  Allies :  V.  Military  Education 
for  t'tiicers  :  VI.  Athenian  Comedy  :  Vn. 
Lions  aiid  Lion  Hunting. 

Qiinrterly  Juiietc,  (London,)  for  Janu- 
ary :  I.  Table  Talk':  11.  Reformatory 
Schools :  III.  Menander  :  IV.  Henry  Field- 
iug :  V.  I^andscape  Gardening :  VI.  Neology 
of  the  Cloisters  :  VII.  Zoological  Girdens  : 
VIII.  Results  and  Prospects  of  the  War. 

London  Quarterly  Rnictc,  for  January: 
I.  Religious  History  of  Mankind,  Sriith's 
Sacred  .\nnals:  II.  The  Royal  Ladies  of 
England:  III.  Jesuitism:  its  Political  Re- 
lation: IV.  Professor  Wilson,  Noctes  Am- 
broiianaj :  V.  Present  Religious  Aspect  of 
the  World:  VI.  Thirty  Years  of  French 
Imaginative  Literature  :  VII.  Donaldson's 
P.ook  of  Jashar  :  VIII.  Popular  Authorship, 
Samuel  Warren :  IX.  The  Eampton  Lec- 
ture :  X.  The  War  in  Asia. 

XiUion^i!  Rericic,  (London,)  for  January  : 
L  Edward  Gibbon:  IL  The  Spanish  Con- 
quest in  America :  III.  The  Life  and  Writ- 
ings of  Dr.  Thomas  Young :  IV.  Atheism  : 
V.  The  State  of  France  :  VI.  Phoenicia  :  VII. 
W.  M.  Thackeray:  Artist  and  Moralist: 
VIII.  Foreign  Policy,  and  the  nexi  Cam- 
paign :  IX.  Books  of  the  Quarter. 

British  and  Foreign  Evanrjelical  Review, 
(Edinburgh,)  for  January :  I.  Sir  WTlliam 
Hamilton  and  his  Philosophy:  II.  Bible 
Princij>lcs  on  the  Subject  of  Terncerance  : 
IIL  Success  in  the  Ministry:  IV.  Jephthah's 
Vow :  V.  The  Geulogy  of  Words  :  VL  Es- 
sence .and  End  of  Infidelity:  VIL  The 
Roman  Cathulic  Press:  VIII.  Lyall  on  the 
Science  of  Mind  :  IX.  Jowett  on  the  Pauline 
Epistles:  X.  Buchanan's  Faith  in  G.>d  and 
Modern  .\thcism  Compared :  XI.  German 
Periodicals. 

Ckriflian  Remembrancer,  (London,)  for 
January  :  I.  Lee  on  the  Inspiration  of 
Scripture:  II.  The  Canons  cf  Historic 
Credibility:  HL  Dulwich  College:  IV. 
Mozby  on  St.  Augustine  :  V.  Cureton's 
Spicih  glum  Syriacum  :  VI.  Dr.  Lushing- 
ton's  Judgment. 


T  H  E 

METHODIST  QUAIITEIILY  EEYIEW. 

JUL  Y,    185G. 


Art.  L—JULIUS  CHARLES  IIAllE. 

[8TX:0XD  PAJEE.] 

1.  Guesses  at  Truth.  By  Tvr'O  Br-OTiirr.?.  First  Scrio".  Fifth  Edition.  Revised. 
London:  1855. 

2.  Guesses  at  Truth.     Bj  Two  Br.oTiiEr.s.     Secoml  Scries.     Third  Edition.     135J. 

3.  Sermons  prcacht  in  Hcrstmonceux  Church.  By  Ji  i.Ti.s  Chai;u:3  Hare,  A.  Af. 
Bcctor  of  Hcrstmonceux,  Archdeacon  of  I.cwcs,  and  late  Fellov  of  Trinity 
College.     Cambridge:  2  vols.  1811  and  1^17. 

4.  The  Victory  of  FailJi,  and  other  Sermons.  By  Jn,u;3  Ciiakles  Hare,  etc. 
Second  Edition!     ISi".  i 

a.  The  Jiission  of  the  Comforter,  and  other  S<rnicns,  n-ith  Xotes.  By  JrT.iUd 
CifAKLr.3  Hare.     Second  Edition.     ];cvi.<i.d.     l.'-'.i". 

6.  Essays  and  Tales.  By  John  Stkiilint.  Co!'  -ted  and  edited,  villi  a  Memoir  of 
his  Life.     By  J.  C.  Hake,  &c.     2  vols.     l-^l^. 

7.  The  Jfcnns  of  Unity  :  a  Charr/e.  With  Xo!s  o;:  the  .Jerusalem  Bishopric,  and 
the  Need  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Synod.     By  .7.  C.  IlAr.i:.  vtc. 

8.  Letter  to  the  Dean  of  Chichester  on  the  appointment  of  Dr.  JLivipden.  Second 
Edition.     With  Bostscript.     By  J.  C.  Hake,  vk:c. 

9.  The  Better  Prospects  of  the  Cinerch :  a   Char!;e.     By  .J.  C.  Hake,  Lc. 

10.  The  Cojitcst  xvith  Rome  :  a  Charge  drlivercd  in  IS^l.  with  Xotcs  ;  especially  in 
Jnswcr  to  Dr.  Keionan's  L.eeturcs.     By  .T.  C.  Haee,  fee. 

11.  Archdeacon  Hare's  Last  Charr/e.     185;"). 

12.  Tiro  Sermon.':  on  the  Oecrtsion  of  Ik''  J'un'-ritl  if  Jrclidrncon  Hare.  By  the 
Rev.  n.  0.  Elliott,  M.  A.,  and  iLe  llov.  J.  N.  Simpki.nson',  M.  A.     lSo-5. 

In  attempting  to  give  a  fair  estimate  of  Jllius  Charles  Haiie 
as  a  religious  teacher,  "we  have  two  functions  to  perform;  the 
former  of  minor  importance,  ami  ^vhich  need  not  detain  us  long; 
the  latter  of  main  moment.  First,  vrc  must  endeavour  to  charac- 
terize the  form  nnd  style  of  his  pulpit  addresses;  then  we  must 
consider  the  quality  of  the  theology  which  constitutes  the  substance 
of  his  teaching.  We  intimated  in  our  former  paper  that  we  do  not 
rate  Hare  among  the  most  eloquent  and  powerful  of  preachers,  though 
he  is,  unquestionably,  among  the  purest  and  most  giftCtUof  English 
Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 21 


330  Julius  Charles  Hare,  [July, 

■writers.  Many  men  have  failed  as  preachers,  because  they  were 
little  aware  of  the  necessary  distinction  between  the  style  proper 
for  the  essay  or  treatise,  which  is  to  be  read  in  private  by  the 
student,  and  that  which  is  appropriate  to  the  lecture  or  sermon, 
which  is  to  be  delivered  before  a  listcninp;  congregation.  It  appears 
to  us  that  Hare  failed  mainly  because  he  had  an  exaggerated  idea 
as  to  what  should  be  the  degree  of  this  distinction.  His  sermons 
lack  closeness  and  weight  of  tliouglit ;  they  are  too  difl'use  in  style, 
and  too  profuse  in  illustration.  The  rein  is  given  too  freely  to  all 
the  caprices  of  the  author's  fertile  fancy;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
there  is  a  want  of  the  dignity  and  solemnity  which,  whatever  may 
be  the  plainness  of  speech,  befit  the  theme  and  office  of  the  pulpit. 
Not  that  there  is  anything  frivolous:  not  that  the  writer  is  not 
earnest  and  serious ;  yet  there  is,  very  commonly,  a  loose  neglige 
style  of  too  palpably  ^condescending  speech,  which  must  have  much 
diminished  the  preacher's  weight  and  authority.  Of  course,  this 
will  be  seen  most  distinctly  and  frequently  in  the  "Parish  Sermons," 
prepared  for  simple  country  folk;  but  something  of  it  is  also  appa- 
rent in  his  sermons  preached  before  the  University,  which,  with  all 
their  learning  and  thoughtfuhicss,  are  very  diffuse,  rather  careless  in 
style,  and  somewhat  juvenile  in  tone.  The  sort  of  eulogy  which 
these  college  sermons  have  received,  certain]}'  docs  not  impress 
one  with  the  idea  that  profound  and  weighty  theological  thought 
is  extensively  in  circulation  in  the  English  Universities.  A  part  of 
Hare's  fault  in  this  matter  is,  no  doubt,  owing  to  that  principle  in 
his  philosophy  which  we  have  had  occasion  to  note — that  the 
imagination,  in  matters  of  religion,  is  to  teach  its  truths,  no  less  than 
the  understanding;  and  that  its  culture,  no  less  than  that  of  the 
heart  and  mind,  is  a  part  of  the  office  of  a  true,  deep,  and  universal 
religion.  We  have  no  disposition  to  deny  this  principle;  only  we 
think  that  Hare,  having  supposed  that  it  had  been  lost  sight  of,  was 
tempted  to  make  too  mucli  of  it.  The  freshness  and  fertility  of  his 
fancy,  and  the  poetic  impulses  of  his  nature,  too,  would  naturally 
incline  him  to  indulge  and  expatiate,  where  no  necessity  of  argu- 
ment, no  cogency  of  a  controUing  purpose,  or  idea,  compelled  him, 
as  in  bis  criticisms  and  in  his  controversy,  to  urge  on  his  forward 
course.  Had  Hare,  indeed,  been  an  orator— had  passion  ruled  his 
intellect,  and  filled  his  heart,  and  prompted  his  tongue,  or  had  the 
gi-and  solemnities  of  revelation  fully  mastered  and  inspired  his  soul 
— his  fancy  would  have  been  made  subordinate  and  subservient. 
But  Hare  was  not  an  orator,  or  a  man  of  passion.  The 
stream  of  his:  soul  was  not  a  strong  river,  but  a  fresh  current, 
flowing,  it  is  true,  in  a  distinct  channel,  and  toward  a  definite  and 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  331 

•well-perceived  issue,  but  loving,  nevertheless,  to  meander,  "  at  its 
own  sweet  Avill,"  among  flowery  meads  and  calm,  fruitful  prospects. 
We  might,  perhaps,  not  be  far  wrong  in  saying  that  Hare  was  too 
much  of  a  poet  to  be  an  orator.  He  himself  says,  (Guesses,  ttc, 
First  Series,  p.  137,)  or  rather  his  brother  said,  and  he  adopted  the 
sentiment :  "  Oratory  may  be  SA'-mbolizcd  by  a  warrior's  eye,  flashing 
from  under  a  philosopher's  broAV.  But  why  a  -warrior's  eye  rather 
than  a  poet's  ?  Because  in  oratory  the  will  must  predominate.'' 
Hare,  then,  vras  too  much  of  the  poet,  too  little  the  man  of  combined 
^vill  and  passion,  to  be  an  orator. 

It  will  not  be  supposed,  from  what  Ave  have  said,  that  there  is  not 
much  of  eloquence,  and  more  of  beauty,  in  Hare's  sermons. 
Passages  of  rare  beauty  abound  in  them ;  and  not  a  few  may  be 
found  of  real  power  and  eloquence.  Still  the  texture  of  his  dis- 
courses, however  brightly  coloured,  lacks  substance.  There  is  not 
a  little  also  of  sameness  in  the  pattern,  if  ue  may  so  speak,  of  his 
illustrations;  -while  sometimes  his  fancies  so  outrun  the  natural 
and  the  beautiful  as  to  become  grotesque. 

The  follov.-ing  passage  would,  we  should  think,  be  more  likely  to 
make  his  parishioners  admire  the  bright  f:incy  of  their  minister, 
than  feel  the  deadly  and  loathsome  nature  of  that  "evil  and  bitter" 
thing  against  which  he  was  wishing  to  warn  them  : 

"  Satan,  when  he  lures  people  into  lii?  pr!~on-hoiise  of  sin,  aUvavs  tries  to 
make  them  forget  tliat  they  are  there.  Il«^  trie?,  tor  a  while,  to  make  thera 
think  that  they  are  in  a  very  pleasant  ami  ixooilly  place.  He  dazzles  their 
eyes,  so  that  the  walls  seem  to  glitter  with  goM  and  precious  stones ;  the 
poisonous  plants,  which  are  cre'-ping  along  tlie  ground,  are  covered  -^vith 
bright  berries  and  gaudy  llowers ;  and  as  all  the  inmates  of  the  prison  arc 
beguiled,  more  or  less,  by  the  sann'  dehi-ion,  there  is  no  one  in  the  whole 
company  to  admonish  and  warn  them  where  they  are." — Ibid.,  p.  23. 

The  conceit  about  to  be  quoted  is  worthy  of  the  patristic  age,  or 
would,  perhaps,  suit  better  still  the  rhetoric  of  lloman  hagiologists : 

"  Surely,  if  we  will  not  even  do  thus  much,  we  cannot  bo  clusters  of  the 
true  Vine  ;  we  cannot  hope  that  our  faniilies  -will  ho  among  those  clusters,  with 
•which  the  Vine  will  adorn  itself,  when  it  spreads  out  its  branches  through  the 
firmament;  and  the  stars  shall  drop  from  their  spheres  to  crown  the  heads  of 
Christ's  saints."— 76/'./.,  p.  38 2. 

Not  a  few  sanjplcs  of  the  same  sort  of  fruit  might  have  been  gathered 
-with  the  least  possible  trouble,  from  the  second  volume  of  these 
"Parish  Sermons,''  Avhich,  as  a  whole,  indeed,  is  inferior  to  the 
first.  At  the  same  time,  these  volumes  contain  many  fine  speci- 
mens of  homely,  yet  often  beautiful  practical  preaching:  and  some 
of  the  more  contemplative  discourses,  which  treat  of  the  ways  of 
Providence,  and  the  blessings    and   duties   of  life,  have  a  quiet 


332  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

power  of  tliouglit,  and  a  rich  yet  chaste  beauty  of  ilkstration,  which, 
in  sermon- writing,  we  scarcely  know  where  else  to  match.  Among 
these  we  would  particularly  direct  attention  to  the  sermon  on 
"  Harvest  Parables,"  in  the  second  volume. 

\s  c  alluded  at  the  beginning  of  this  paper  to  the  form  as  well  as 
the  sfijle  of  Hare's  sermons.  Those  of  our  readers  who  are  at  all 
acquainted  with  the  modern  school  of  preachers  in  the  English 
Church,  will  expect  to  hear  that  these  sermons  have  no  formal 
divisions  or  obvious  plan.  This  is  not  so  insignificant  a  point  as 
might  be  supposed.  As,  in  the  ages  when  logical  forms  and 
methods  ruled  in  the  ascendant,  divisions  and  subdivisions  were 
multiplied,  every  truth  affirmed  was  traced  backward  to  its  cause, 
and  onward  to  its  eQ'ect,  and  every  kind  was  distinguished  as  ,to 
genus  and  species;  so  those  who  decry  or  slight  logic,  and  who. 
above  all,  dislike  its  application  to  the  science  of  theology,  shun 
every  appearance  of  division  or  formal  distinction  in  their  discourses. 
They  preach  the  Gospel  "  broadly"  and  generally.  They  present  its 
facts  in  a  somewhat  superficial  way;  they  explain  its  narratives  not 
too  minutely,  for  tliis  would  not  accord  either  with  their  doctrinal 
haziness  and  generality,  or  with  their  loose  notions  as  to  "  inspira- 
tion ;"  they  enforce  its  duties,  but  they  do  not  preach  its  doctrines  in 
their  strict,  mutual  harmony,  or  in  their  precise  adaptation  to  the 
condition  and  wants  of  man.  To  do  this  would  involve  the  need  of 
logical  distinctions  and  deductions,  and  would  bring  them,  before 
they  were  aware,  within  the  forbidden  circle  of  systematic  theology. 
An  outline  or  plan,  distinctly  stated,  would  suggest  to  their  hear- 
ers, as  one  principle  or  position  after  another  came  forth  to  view, 
or  as  fact  after  fact  was  named,  all  sorts  of  questions  as  to  the 
whence?  the  how?  the  why?  the  wherefore?  to  attempt  to  meet 
which  would  not  agree  with  the  views  of  those  who  belong  to  the 
"  Broad  Church,"  and  who  glory  in  a  vague,  unsystematized  the- 
ology. Now,  though  Hare  Avas  far  more  logical  und  doctrinal,  far 
less  vague,  and  more  evangelical,  than  most  others  of  this  school ; 
yet  to  this  school  he  did  belong,  as  we  are  aboht  to  show  forthM"ith. 
His  sermons,  accordingly,  though  they  have  generally  a  more  ob- 
vious plan,  and  are  more  concerned  in  the  statement  and  discussion 
of  the  great  ground-truths  of  theology,  and  the  gracious  provisions 
of  the  Gospel,  than  most  of  those  of  his  fellows,  are  yet,  on  the 
whole,  theologically  considered,  somewhat  superficial  and  unsatis- 
factory, and  systematically  avoid  everything  like  express  divisions 
and  logical  forms.  Had  this  not  been  the  case,  they  would,  proba- 
bly, have  been  less  difl'use,  and  much  more  cogent  and  effective. 
After  all,  there  is  more  in  a  method  than  is  commonly  supposed. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  333 

Had  the  preachers  of  the  seventeenth  century  been  less  minute  and 
multifarious  in  their  logical  distinctions  and  divisions,  the  ^vorld 
would  have  lost  a  vast  amount  of  >vorthIcss  quibbling,  wearisome 
repetition,  and  irreverent  conjecture  and  conclusion.  So  now,  the 
absence  of  logical  method  from  so  much  modern  preaching,  serves  to 
hide  the  vagueness  and  slightncss  of  its  theology,  and  its  deficiency  of 
faith  and  feeling  as  to  the  most  fundamental  truths  of  the  Gospel. 

What  was  Hare's  faith,  and  the  substance  of  his  teaching  as  to 
these  fundamental  truths,  we  now  pass  on  to  inquire.  A  priori, 
as  we  intimated  at  the  commencement  of  our  former  article,  we 
should  seem  to  be  warranted  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  tbat  he 
was  very  far  from  being  right  in  this  matter.  "We  are  willing  to 
leave  out  of  account  the  laudatory  way  in  Avhich  he  often  refers  to 
Maurice,  which  may  be  well  enough  accounted  for,  without  suppos- 
ing him  to  be  at  all  agreed  with  that  writer  on  the  points  on  which 
the  latter  is  so  widely  astray,  especially  when  we  remember  the 
relationship  between  the  two,  and  that  Maurice  had  not  at  all  dis-' 
tinctly  disclosed  his  heretical  views  at  the  time  when  Hare  made 
those  laudatory  references.  But,  apart  from  this.  Hare's  frequent, 
distinct,  emphatic  mention  of  Coleridge,  as  his  master,  in  regard  to 
the  highest  aspects  not  only  of  philosophy,  but  of  theology,  would 
lead  us  very  naturally  and  reasonably  to  iutVr  tiiat  he  was  nearly,  if  not 
altogether,  as  far  off  from  evangelical  orthodoxy  as  that  philosopher. 
We  have  seen,  indeed,  that,  in  reference  to  philosophy,  however  Hare 
might  agree  with  Coleridge  in  general  tone  of  feeling,  in  taste  and 
tendency;  however  much  he  might  admire  his  intuitive  sagacity, 
his  profound  penetration,  his  piercing  subtilty  of  distinction  and 
insight,  the  moral  dignity  and  purity  of  his  tone  as  a  teacher,  his 
wide  compass  of  inquiry,  and  his  catholic  sympathies ;  however 
heartily  he  might  welcome  his  leadership  against  the  materialist 
and  utilitarian  philosophies  which  had  been  in  vogue;  yet,  in  fact, 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  accepted,  to  thoir  full  _cxtent.  the  special 
dogmas  of  Coleridge's  metaphysics.  And  hence  we  might  be  dis- 
posed to  infer  beforehand,  that,  so  far  as  the  theological  tenets  of 
Coleridge  were  particukirly  dependent  upon  these  dogmas,  Hare  would, 
probably,  differ  from  him.  On  his  doctrine  of  the  Logos,  for  instance, 
as  in  some  way  identified  with  all  men.  and  as  being  the  light  of 
reason  in  every  man,  and  on  those  other  subtile,  abstruse,  mysti- 
cal, and  incomprehensible  doctrines,  which,  if  tiiey  appeared  at  all, 
only  just  peeped  out  in  his  "  Aids  to  Kcllection,"'  but  were  more 
fully  dwelt  upon — explained  we  can  scarcely  say — in  notes  and 
appendices  to  later  works,  we  should  have  no  right  to  assume  that 
Hare  agreed  with  Coleridge.     Most  men,  indeed,  if  they  differed 


334  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

from  Coleridge  on  these  points,  and  yet  expressed  their  high  admi- 
ration of  his  philosophy  and  theology,  -would  have  been  careful,  at 
the  same  time,  to  put  in  a  disclaimer,  so  far  as  these  points  were 
concerned;  but  this  does  not  seem  to  have  been  Hare's  way.  He 
was  on  the  look-out  for  points  of  agreement  with  others,  and  was 
eager  to  consent  and  applaud.  The  points  of  difierence  he  did  not 
care  to  discriminate,  unless  compelled ;  nor  would  he  allow  any 
man,  whose  views  on  essential  points  he  believed  to  be  right,  to  be 
condemned  because  of  logical  consequences  deducible  from  some  of 
the  tenets  which  he  held.  We  think  he  carried  this  much  too  far; 
but  our  present  purpose  is  only  to  note  the  thing  itself,  as  helping 
to  account  for  his  indiscrimiuating  eulogy  of  Coleridge.  Still,  after 
every  abatement  has  been  made,  we  cannot  but  believe  that,  in  some 
main  principles,  there  must  have  been  an  agreement  between  the 
theology  of  Hare  and  of  Coleridge ;  otherwise,  such  language  as  we 
are  about  to  quote  can  have  no  meaning.  In  his  "  Life  of  Sterling." 
Hare  tells  us,  that  when  Sterling  was  a  young  man,  the  influence  of 
Coleridge  was  the  principal  means  by  which  there  was  wrought  in 
his  mind  "a  temporary  reconciliation  with  that  which  is  best  and 
soundest  in  the  faith  and  institutions  of  his  countrymen." — P.  128. 
He  "  dedicated,  with  deep  reverence  and  thankfulness,"  his  "  Mission 
of  the  Comforter,"  to  the  "honoured  memory"  of  Coleridge,  "the 
Christian  philosopher;  Avho,  through  dark  and  winding  paths  of 
speculation,  was  led  to  the  light,  in  order  that  others  by  his  guid- 
ance might  reach  that  light,  without  passing  through  the  darkness ;" 
and  described  himself  as  "  one  of  the  many  pupils  whom  his  writings 
have  helpt  to  discern  the  sacred  concord  and  unity  of  human  and 
Divine  truth."  In  a  similar  strain  of  reverent  eulogy,  he  speaks, 
in  the  preface  to  this  work,  of  the  "great  religious  philosopher," 
"  the  main  work  of  whose  life  was  to  spiritualize  not  only  our  philos- 
ophy, but  our  theology ;  to  raise  them  both  above  the  empiricism  into 
which  they  had  been  dwindling,  and  to  set.  them  free  from  the  tech- 
nical trammels  of  logical  sijstcms."  This  last  clause  deserves  note. 
The  elementary  and  popular  (we  use  the  word,  of  course,  only 
comparatively)  teaching  of  Coleridge  on  theology  is  contained  in 
his  "Aids  to  Reflection."  ^o  one  can  be  said  to  agree  with  Cole- 
ridge at  all  on  theology,  who  does  not  accord  with  the  main  princi- 
ples laid  down  there ;  and  in  that  work,  it  is  well  known  that 
Coleridge  teaches  a  theology  differing  from  Avhat  is  ordinarily 
understood  to  bo  "evangelical  orthodoxy,"  in  regard  to  the  doc- 
trines of  the  atonement,  and  of  justification  by  fiith.  On  these 
momentous  points,  then,  we  must  expect  to  find  that  Hare  differed, 
more  or  less  widely,  from  the  evangelical  doctrine.     But  Coleridge's 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  335 

views  as  to  inspiration  are  also  intimated  in  that  work,  and  arc 
pretty  fully  explained  in  another,  (the  "  Confessions  of  an  enquiring 
Spirit,")  the  general  teaching  of  which  Hare  has  referred  to  in  his 
"Life  of  Sterling,"  in  a  manner  which  seems  to  imply  approval. 
This,  then,  will  be  another  main  point  to  which  we  must  direct  our 
attention. 

But,  before  we  proceed  to  examine  Hare's  views  on  these  very 
important  points,  let  us  draw  a  wide  distinction  between  his  teach- 
ing and  that  of  such  writers  as  Maurice.  Though  scai'cely  to  bo 
called,  in  the  full  sense,  an  evangelical  believer  and  teacher  of 
Christianity,  Hare  was  distinctively  a  Christian,  an  "orthodox" 
Christian,  in  the  broad  sense,  and  a  devout  and  earnest  one.  He 
believed  in  the  Christian  Trinity,  not  in  a  2s'eo-Platonic  triad;  his 
teaching  is  clear  and  decisive  as  to  man's  fallen  condition ;  and  Ids 
sense  of  the  sinful  taint  and  corruption  of  our  nature  seems  to  have 
been  exceedingly  deep  and  vivid;  it  meets  us  continually  in  his 
writings,  and  is  expressed  in  every  variety  of  emphatic  and  im- 
pressive statement  and  appeal.  He  neither  denies  nor  ignores, 
though  he  does  not  often  dwell  upon,  the  rectoral  character  of  God 
as  the  pure  and  holy  Judge;  he  teaches  that  there  will  be  a  day  of 
final  judgment,  and  that  there  will  be  a  separate  lot  and  blessing 
for  the  righteous  in  heaven,  while  the  wicked  will  be  punished  in 
hell.  There  is  no  glimpse  of  anything  bordering  upon  Universalism 
in  his  writings.  He  teaches  fully,  and  with  great  earnestness  and 
enlargement,  the  doctrine  of  sanctification  by  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  the  privilege  of  all  who  are  pardoned  through  faith  in  Christ, 
and  the  absolute  need  of  faith  in  Christ  in  order  to  sanctification. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  illustrate  all  these  particulars  by 
quotations  from  Hare's  writings;  but  we  feel  that  we  should  not 
do  justice  to  him,  if  we  neglected  to  give  our  readers  an  opportunity 
of  judging  for  themselves,  by  one  or  two  pregnant  quotations,  relat- 
ing to  the  grand,  fundamental  truth  of  nian"s  fallen  and  sinful  con- 
dition before  God,  and  need  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  quicken  him 
ancAv ;  how  widely  apart  was  Hare's  theological  position  from  that 
of  Maurice,  notwithstanding  that  both  avowed  themselves  disciples 
of  Coleridge,  that  each  praises  the  other's  writings,  particularly 
Hare  several  of  Maurice's,  and  that  they  were  intimate  friends 
and  nearly  related  by  marriage. 

Hare  tells  us  Cand  this  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  Maurice's 
teaching)  that  '•  the  condition  of  man  after  the  I'all  was  as  nothing 
in  comparison  with  his  llrst  glory;"  and  speaks  of  a  "living  com- 
munion with  God,  such  as  he  had  enjoyed  in  Paradise,  and  had  lost 
by  the  Fall."     He  says,  that  "  the  innocence  of  childhood  is  noth- 


33G  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

ing  more  than  a  bud  with  a  -worm  gnawing  at  its  heart,  and  which 
the  first  blast  of  temptation  is  sure  to  nip."  He  speaks  of  man's 
nature  as  "  shattered  by  the  fall,  and  rotted  by  selfishness,"  so  that 
"its  unity  and  harmony"  are  "utterly  destroyed."  He  says,  "there 
is  a  taint  of  sin  hi  our  hearts,  -which  runs  through  all  our  thoughts 
and  feelings,  through  all  our  words  and  deeds."*  More  at  large,  he 
thus  deals  with  the  fearful  mystery  of  sin  and  evil  in  the  world : 

"  Whether  vie  look  north  or  south,  cast  or  west,  without  or  within,  we  sec 
evil.  If  we  say,  as  some  have  foolishly  said,  that  it  is  the  growth  of  civili- 
sation, that  it  arises  from  the  perverse  institutions  of  society,  and  that  it  would 
not  be  found  in  man  if  he  were  but  in  a  state  of  nature;  if  we  resolve  to  fly 
from  civilized  society,  and  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  abide  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  tlie  savage  wilderness,  even  there,  whatever  and  whomever 
we  may  see  will  bear  the  scar  and  mark  of  evil,  like  the  mark  which  v.-as  set 
upon  Cain.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  fancy,  as  others  have  no  less  tlwlisHy 
fancied,  that  evil  sjirings  wholly  from  ignorance ;  and  that  the  laws  of  man, 
and  the  arts  of  man,  and  the  craft  of  man,  will  be  able  to  overcome  and  get 
the  better  of  it,  then  we  need  only  turn  our  eyes  toward  those  nations  wliieh  have 
made  the  greatest  advance  in  knowledge  ;  and  we  shall  find  that,  so  tar  as 
that  advance  has  bei-n  made  by  man,  and  by  human  means  only,  while  men 
have  advanced  in  knowlcdiie  they  have  ako  advanced  in  wickedness,  and  gone 
on  devising  new  vices  and  abominations  before  unheard  of.  How  evil  came 
into  the  world  we  know  not ;  but  that  it  is  there,  we  all  of  us  know  iar  too 
well,"  kc.—Ihld.,  pp.  139,  140. 

"  Why  should  I  refuse  to  tell  a  lie,  when  by  so  doing  I  should  save  the  life 
of  a  fuller  or  a  brother  'i  Because,  a  philo.^ophcr  replies,  /  am  huund  to  revere 
tJte  dii/iiiti/  of  the  human  aoid.  But  v.'hat  is  the  dignity  of  the  human  soul, 
except  as  the  soul  which  God  made,  and  Christ  has  redeemed?  It  is  the 
dignity  of  the  foundling,  which  knows  not  its  birthplace  or  its  parenta^'e  ;  of 
a  pauper,  clothed  in  rags,  the  faded  relics  of  bygone  glory ;  the  dignity  of  a 
lackey,  tliat  dogs  the  heels  of  custom  and  oj)inion;  the  dignity  of  a  cripple, 
bloated  and  maimed  by  the  consequences  of  its  own  intemperance,  and  only 
enabled  to  walk  by  the  crutch  of  some  lifeless  maxim.  What  is  such  dignity 
worth  ?  and  how  many  drops  of  blood  will  it  outweigh  ?  flight  it  not  be 
deemed  an  excess  of  vanity  to  prize  it  above  the  life  of  a  worm  ?" — Parish 
Sermons,  voL  ii,  p.  313. 

The  last  paragraph,  it  will  be  observed,  refers  to  man  as  con- 
ceived of  by  a  godless  philosophy  ;  man,  as  apart  from  the  grand 
truths  of  revelation  and  redemption.  And  these  extracts,  taken 
together,  may  give  a  fair,  though  scarcely  an  adequate,  idea  of 
Hare's  doctrine  and  manner  of  speech,  in  regard  to  the  fallen  and 
sinful  condition  of  man.  Surely  it  must  be  admitted,  however 
much  we  lament  his  deficiencies  as  to  some  points  of  evangelical 
doctrine,  that  he  who  wrote  in  such  a  style  was  an  earnest  Christian, 
as  far  removed  from  the  mere  philosopher,  as  from  the  formalist,  or 
the  dry  doctrine-monger.  Coleridge's  writings  show  nothing  like 
the  above;  and  Maurice's  teaching  is  fundamentally  diiferent.  As 
to  Hare's  teaching  on  the  other  points  recently  enumerated,  on  which 

•'  Pariih  Sermons,  vol.  ii,  pp.  113,  IIG ;  vol.  i,  pp.  28,  303 ;  and  vol.  ii,  p.  131. 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  337 

Jie  agrees  with  orthodox  and  evangcKcal  believers  iu  general,  we 
beg  to  refer  to  his  "  Mission  of  the  Comforter,"  passim,  to  the  last 
sermon  of  his  "  Victory  of  Faith,"  and  to  his  Parish  Ser?no7is, 
vol.  i,  pp.  1G4,  417;  and  vol.  ii,  pp.  210,  307. 

We  have  made  these  preliminary  admissions,  in  simple  justice  to 
the  distinguished  and  noble-hearted  man,  whose  writings  we  have 
undertaken  to  review.  It  is  our  earnest  wish  in  this  article  to  be 
strictly  impar cial.  \Vc  have  no  sympathy  whatever  with  that  princi- 
ple, which  has  so  extensively  obtained  in  all  controversial  writing,  and 
especially  in  theological  discussion,  that  it  is  wise  and  fair,  so  far  as 
this  can  be  discreetly  and  safely  done,  to  ignore,  in  a  writer  whose  errors 
you  undertake  to  expose,  whatever  is  good,  and  wise,  and  true  ;  and 
we  are  conscious  that  our  personal  bias  is  all  in  favour  of  Archdeacon 
Hare;  yet  we  should  not  perform  our  duty,  if  we  omitted  to  note, 
that  even  in  the  extracts  which  vre  have  given,  excellent  as  these  are, 
so  for  as  they  go,  there  is  yet  a  defect,  more  easily  to  be  felt,  per- 
haps, than  defined,  hjin  is  viewed  rather  as  a  disease  and  misfor- 
tune, than  as  a  transgression  of  the  Divine  law.  and  as  involvin^^ 
guilt.  The  preacher  mourns  over  it,  subjectively  considered,  as  a 
tendency  and  habit,  producing  discord  with  God  and  nature,  and 
bringing  with  it  wretchedness  ;  but  ho  does  not,  as  a  witness  for 
God,  denounce  it  in  its  o]>jective  character,  as  a  guilty  violation  of 
God's  holy  revealed  will.  He  speaks  of  it  rather  in  the  sentimental 
view  of  a  poet-philosopher,  than  as  a  preacher  of  righteousness. 
Nor  do  we  find  that  he  anywhere  brings  out  to  view  the  doctrine  of 
imputed  guilt ;  that  the  race  is  treated  as  guilty,  in  consequence  of 
Adam's  sin  and  fall,  without  the  admission  of  which,  in  some  form, 
we  fear  that  the  blessed  doctrine  of  atonement  for  sinners,  through 
the  Saviour  s  obedience  unto  death,  cannot  be  well  sustained. 

In  fact,  it  could  not  be  expected  that  Hare  should  be  full  and  ex- 
plicit in  his  doctrine  of  sin  and  guilt,  unless  he  had  been  thoroughly 
evangelical  as  to  the  grand,  coutr.il  doctrine  of  atonement.  This, 
however,  was  not  the  case.  Like  Maurice,  he  chooses  to  use  the 
verb  atone  frequently — indeed,  except  in  his  "Parish  Sermons," 
ordinarily,  if  not  only — in  the  obsolete  sense  of  to  make  at  one.  to 
reconcile.  Once,  in  the  New  Testament,  the  word  atonement  is 
unquestionabl}'  used  either  instca<l  of  reconciliation,  or,  at  any  rate, 
where  reconciliation  [as  a  consciiuence  of  atonement']  would  have 
been  a  more  correct  rendering.  J>ut  it  is  equally  certain,  that  as 
used  ordinarily  in  the  Bible,  and  in  reference  to  the  purpose  and 
effect  of  the  sacrifices  under  the  law,  expiation  and  not  reconcilintion 
is  intended  by  the  word.  Of  course,  the  recent  customary  use  of 
the  word  in  the  sense  of  reconcile,  by  Ilare,  Maurice,  and  perhaps  a 


338  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

few  more,  does  not,  of  itself,  affect  the  Scriptural  doctrine  of  atone- 
ment, or  even  go  any  way  toward  proving  tliat  those  v.-ho  thus  use 
it  differ  from  others  in  their  view  of  the  doctrine  in  question.  Still, 
supposing  they  do  differ,  it  is  clear  that  their  peculiar  use  of  the 
word  may  stand  in  relation  to  their  peculiar  doctrine ;  and  such  is, 
in  fact,  the  case.  iSot  admitting  that  the  Scriptural  doctrine  of 
atonement  involves  essentially  the  idea  of  expiation,  believing  that 
the  reconciliation  of  man  to  God  is  not  brought  about  in  virtue  of 
the  expiatory  character  and  merit  of  Christ's  vicarious  sufferings  and 
death,  they  wish  to  dissociate  the  idea  of  expiation  from  the  cus- 
tomary use  of  the  word  atonement ;  and,  to  this  end,  they  carefully 
and  continually  use  the  word  in  the  direct  and  simple  sense  of 
reconciliation.  If  their  view  is  correct,  we  do  not  know  that  we 
have  any  right  to  blame  their  device.  That  their  view,  however,  is 
not  correct,  we  have  heretofore,  particularly  in  our  articles  on 
Maurice,  given  our  reasons  for  believing ;  and  may  hereafter  show 
at  greater  length,  in  a  specific  article  on  the  subject  of  sacrifice. 
Our  present  business  is  to  show,  that  Hare  agrees  too  nearly  with 
his  master,  Coleridge,  on  this  point. 

His  avowed  relations  to  Coleridge,  and  the  use  of  the  word  atone, 
in  the  sense  we  have  just  adverted  to,  would,  of  themselves,  be  sufii- 
cient  to  convince  us  that  this  must  be  the  case.  Yet,  under  the 
influence  of  evangelical  feelings,  and,  perhaps,  when  rising  fresh, 
not  only  from  the  study  of  his  Greek  Testament,  but  from  the 
perusal  of  the  writings  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  or  of  the  holy  Leigh- 
ton,  so  nearly  does  11  arc  approach,  in  many  places,  to  the  language 
and  doctrine  of  the  Reformers,  and  the  best  evangelical  divines  of 
his  own  Church,  that  it  requires  a  careful  collation  of  passages,  and 
nice  and  narrow  examination,  to  see,  oftentimes,  how  and  wherein  he 
falls  short  of  the  full  standard  of  evangelical  orthodox}'.  Moreover, 
in  his  "I^otes  to  the  Mission  of  the  Comforter,"  he  not  only 
hojnolnrrates,  (to  borrow  a  convenient  word  from  Scotch  Presby- 
terianism,)  in  terms  of  warm  and  emphatic  approval,  the  spiritual 
and  self-abasing  doctrines  of  Augustine  and  the  Reformers,  but  he 
speaks  very  highly,  indeed,  of  Anselm,  as  the  first  who  brought  out 
into  distinct  view,  the  union  of  the  Divine  and  the  human  natures  in 
the  person  of  Christ ;  and  the  bearing  of  this  on  the  satisfaction 
which  he  made  for  sin.  It  will  be  found,  however,  that  he  does  not 
directl}'  cite,  or,  at  least,  that  he  never  cites  in  such  a  way  as  to 
appropriate  the  distinct  expositions  given  by  these  writers  of  their 
doctrine  of  satisfaction  and  atonement :  and  when  he  expressly  states 
his  own  views,  they  do  not  accurately  and  fully  accord  Avith  theirs. 
His  language  is  often  ambiguous,  and  might  well  bear  the  orthodox 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  339 

evangelical  sense;  his  teaching  sometimes  approximates  very  nearly 
to  the  full  standard  of  evangelical  truth ;  nevertheless,  he  never  does 
actual!}'  and  distinctly  enounce  the  doctrine  of  vicarious  and  ex- 
piatory suffering,  while,  in  a  number  of  passages,  he  either  teaches 
•vvhat  is  irreconcilable  with  this  doctrine,  or  what  is  so  essentially 
and  critically  defective  as  to  furnish  convincing,  though  negative 
evidence  that  he  did  not  hold  it. 

The  following  passage  might  easily  be  supposed  to  be  truly 
evangelical  in  its  sense  ;  yet  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
modem  schools  of  theology,  know  that  even  some  Unitarians  would 
find  little  difficulty  in  adopting  its  language.  Maurice,  too,  con- 
trives to  use  language  little  dissimilar: 

"We  must  be  buried  by  bapti.-m  into  tlie  death  of  Christ,  before  we  can 
rise  again  in  newness  of  life.  We  must  be  justified  tlirougb  faiih  in  the 
death  of  Christ,  before  we  can  be  sanctified  by  tl;e  indwelling  of  his  Spirit. 
The  spirit  of  sanctification  is  only  given  to  tho-e  who  have  already  been 
washed  from  their  sins  in  the  all-puritying  bl.iod  of  the  Lamb." — ilis.<io7\, 
^•c,  p.  25. 

We  shall  see  reason  presently  to  conclude  that,  in  using  this  lan- 
guage. Hare  meant  no  more  than  that  "  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,"  as 
declaring  the  mercy  and  good- will  of  God  toward  sinners,  and  as 
thus  operating  morally,  through  the  power  of  the  convincing  and 
sanctifying  Spirit,  upon  the  conscience  and  afteetions  of  the  sinner, 
•washes  and  purifies  from  sin,  not  as  directly,  and  in  the  first  place, 
as  a  foundation  for  all  the  rest  expiating  tlio  guilt  of  sin,  and  satis- 
fying the  justice  of  God. 

There  is  another  passage,  however,  so  i-trongly  evangelical  in  its 
language,  that  wc  find  it  difficult  to  understand  how  Hare  could 
have  explained  away  its  meaning : 

"  In  that  all  sinned,  all  became  subject  to  death  ;  to  immediate,  sure,  ever- 
lasting death.  ,  Only  because  the  eternal  Son  of  God  vouchsafed  to  suffer 
death  in  the  stead  of  all  mankind — he  whose  doatli  far  outweighed  the  deaths 
of  millions  of  millions — was  the  sentence  \Nhi<h  condemned  all  mankind  to 
death  cancelled  and  recalled."— Ai/(\<A  S.riaou.s,  \ul.  ii,  p.  21 G. 

There  are  truly  evangelical  teachers  who  would,  probably,  have 
hesitated  to  employ  phraseology  such  as  this,  so  easily  to  be  inter- 
preted as  sanctioning  the  view  which  regards  the  death  of  Christ 
as  an  arithmetical  or  commercial  equivalent  for  the  eternal  suffer- 
ings of  all  mankind.  Certain  it  is  that,  in  its  ordinary  and  obvious 
acceptation,  it  contradicts  the  general  tenor,  as  well  as  all  the  exact 
and  specific  statements  of  Hare's  doctrinal  teachings.  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  passage  occurs  iu  his  Parish  Sermons,  in  which 
he  naturally  endeavoured  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  ideas  and 
feelings  of  the  common  people.     Wc  presume  that  he  meant  to  say, 


340  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

that  Christ  died  to  deliver  sinners  from  their  spiritual  death;  and 
that  his  death,  in  its  moral  po\ver  and  spiritual  efficacy,  far  out- 
weighed the  curse  and  evil  attending  upon  the  inward  soul-death  of 
the  millions  of  mankind. 

Let  us  hear  Hare  on  the  "  Cross  of  Christ,''  a  testing  subject ; 
and  let  our  readers  judge  whether  he  could  have  believed  in  the  ex- 
piatory character  of  the  death  of  Christ,  who,  on  such  a  theme,  could 
express  himself  as  follows  : 

"  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  that  we.  uiost  deeply  and  thoroughly  feel  the 
sin  of  not  believing  in  Him,  -who  came  do%vn  from  he-jven  to  die  upon  that 
cross  for  us.  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  that  -we  feel  all  the-hatcfu'.ness  of 
sill,  which  could  not  be  removed  from  the  souls  of  men,  except  by  the  death 
of  the  Son  of  God.  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  when  tlie  consummating  trial 
of  death  is  past — when  he  wliose  every  word  has  manifested  the  Divine  power 
of  love  to  overcome  sin's  fiercest  and  subtlest  temptations,  has  given  up  the 
"host — that,  with  the  centurion,  we  recognise  the  perfect  righteousness  of 
Christ;  and  as  the  purpose  for  which  lie  v,-as  lifted  up  was  that  he  might  be- 
come our  righteousness,  and  draw  us  to  partake  in  the  righteousness  which 
he  liad  obtained  lor  us :  so  it  is  at  tlie  foot  of  tlic  cross  that  we  feel  how  we 
are  admitted  to  a  share  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ.  Thus,  too,  it',  standing 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  we  raise  our  eyes  to  him  who  was  nailed  thereon ;  if, 
in  the  light  of  the  Spirit,  we  behold  him  there  lifted  up  as  our  righteousness; 
if  we  call  to  remembrance  what  he  left,  and  what  he  embraced  for  our  sakes; 
if  we  thus  fix  the  earnest  gaze  of  our  hearts,  and  souls,  and  minds  on  the  glory 
of  God,  as  manifested  on  the  cross  of  Christ;  then,  v>-ht_n  our  eyes  drop  from 
thence  on  the  things  of  this  world,  we  cannot  fail  to  discern  how  the  prim.e  of 
this  world  has  been  judged." — Ibid.,  pp.  13G,  137. 

The  doctrine  of  substitution  has,  no  doubt,  been  miserably  dis- 
torted and  perverted  by  vulgar  fanatics  and  high  Antinomians.  It 
has  been  too  often  degraded,  also,  by  good  and  useful  men,  who  have 
represented  the  holy  Judge  as  acting  on  mere  personal  and  (as  it 
were,  let  the  word  be  forgiven  us)  selfish  grounds :  and  as  exacting 
from  the  Saviour,  as  the  condition  of  man's  redemption,  a  rigid  quid 
pro  quo,  a  commercial  equivalent.  Such  views,  however,  have  never 
been  sanctioned  by  the  great  and  profound  divines,  from  whom  evan- 
gelical theology  has  derived  its  strength,  and  by  whom  its  principles 
have  been  expounded  and  sustained.  Of  late  years  they  have  been 
held  by  a  continually  decreasing  number;  nor  are  they  to  be  met 
with  in  those  modern  works,  such  as  the  well-known  English 
standards  of  Magee  and  Pye  Smith,  in  which  the  doctrine  of 
vicarious  and  expiatory  sacrihcc  has  been  so  learnedly  and  ably 
sustained.  Yet,  to  the  whole  school  of  Coleridge  there  is  no 
greater  bugbear  than  this  doctrine  of  substitution,  however  taught: 
though  it  is  so  inwoven  into  Scripture  phraseology,  and  so  craved 
for  by  the  guilty  conscience  of  men,  that  they  themselves  find  it  next 
to  impossible  to  teach  any  of  the  most  vital  and  characteristic  truths 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  341 

of  theology,  without  continually  cxpressincc  themselves  in  language 
which  seems  to  imply  it.  Sterling  was  a  disciple  of  Coleridge,  and 
a  friend  of  Hare's.  He  had  left  his  curacy  under  Hare,  in  lSo4, 
on  account  of  his  health;  being  at  that  time,  according  to  Hare's 
standard,  a  sound  and  orthodox  Christian  believer.  In  the  follow- 
ing year,  when,  if  he  had  begun  his  descent  on  that  incline,  which 
years  later  conducted  him  to  Straussianism,  he  can  but  have  be^iun 
it,  and  does  not  appear  to  have  in  any  degree  materially  altered  his 
views,  on  theological  subjects,  from  what  they  were  the  year  before, 
we  find  him  writing  to  Hare  as  follows,  in  reference  to  Milman's 
History  of  the  Jews :  "  On  sacrifices  he  seems  to  have  nothing  of 
the  least  interest  to  offer;  though  I  think  he  does  keep  clear  of  the 
ghastly  speculations  of  Magee,  and  of  most  of  our  modern  orthodox 
Brahmins." — Hares  Life  of  Sterling,  ]>.  V"2. 

The  meaning  of  this  is  as  obvious  as  its  injustice  is  glaring. 
All  are  "Brahmins,"  however  cautious  and  moderate  in  their 
expressions,  who  believe  in  the  proper  piacular  character  of  the 
Jewish  sacrifices,  and  of  the  death  of  our  Ijord.  ]So  one  can  have 
held  the  doctrine  of  substitution  more  warily,  or  expressed  it  in  a 
form  less  likely  to  be  repulsive,  than  Magco;  but  his  sin  was  that 
he  held  the  root  of  the  m.atter  so  firmly,  and  defended  the  "  ortho- 
dox" doctrine  of  sacrifice  so  ably;  therefore  he  is  a  Brahmin.  We 
rernember  that  ^Maurice,  in  his  Kssays,  similarly  singles  out  Ma"-ee 
as  a  mark  for  his  sneers.  Now.  far  be  it  from  us  to  make  a  man 
responsible  for  the  sins  of  his  friend:  we  have  shown  no  disposition 
to  do  this.  But  we  cannot  but  conclude  that  Hare  agi-ccd  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  with  his  ci-devant  curate  ;  both  from  the  fact,  that  while 
Sterling  held  such  views  he  chose  him  to  be  his  curate,  and  because, 
in  quoting  this  letter  to  himself,  he  enters  no  caveat,  and  gives  no 
intimation  of  anything  like  doubt  or  dissent.  About  the  same 
time,  moreover,  Sterling  writes  to  Hare  again,  as  follows :  "  I  find 
myself  more  and  more  attracted  toward  the  (livines  who  occupy 
themselves  much  in  setting  forth  the  depth  and  extent  of  sin,  as  a 
fact  of  human  nature;  though,  as  you  viay  supj)osc,  far  from  satis- 
fied with  the  Calvinistic  theories  as  to  the  Divine  purposes  and  the 
process  of  redemption.  I  do  not  find  Tholuck  as  full  or  satisfac- 
tory as  I  could  wisli  in  this  last  matter;  the  doctrine  of  substitution 
appearing  in  him  with  too  much  nakedness." — Ibi'L,  p.  75. 

Yes,  there  is  the  stumbling-block  with  all  who  have  belonged  to 
the  Coleridge  school — the  doctrine  of  sui)stitution.  Tholuck  is  too 
evangelical  for  them.  The  doctrine  of  substitution,  it  cannot  be 
denied,  does  seem  to  be  in  the  Bible ;  but  it  must  be  vailed ;  it 
must  not  be  understood  or  taught  in  its  plaiu  sense ;  it  must,  in  fact, 


342  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

be  explained  away.  Often  it  seems  likely  to  prove  too  strong  for 
Hare;  the  Bible  and  the  Spirit  of  God  concur  in  driving  him  to  im- 
ply and  almost  to  teach  it;  but,  when  it  becomes  necessary  either 
explicitly  to  affirm  or  to  evade  it ;  when  a  statement  of  doctrine  upon 
the  subject,  apparentbj  explicit  and  definitive, must  be  given,  Hare 
in  no  case  expressly  utters  it. 

In  fact,  his  "understanding,"  to  adopt  such  phraseology  as  he 
himself  might  have  used  in  a  similar  case,  his  "understanding," 
beset  with  prejudices,  and  trained  in  a  presumptuous  philosophy, 
refused  to  adopt  or  admit  truths,  which  his  higher  and  truer 
"  reason,"  in  conjunction  with  his  conscience,  inclined  and  urged 
him  to  confess.  His  reason  and  conscience  would  have  taught  him 
the  need  of  expiation  for  his  sin,  and  made  him  welcome  the  doc- 
trine of  a  sinless  Substitute,  who  was  made  sin  for  him,  that  he 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  through  him;  but  his 
biased  and  mistraiucd  understandingrefused  to  accept  the  doctrine 
of  piacular  sacrifice,  and  did  violence  to  itself,  and  his  Avhole 
inward  man,  by  explaining  away  the  doctrine  of  the  substitution  of 
Christ,  the  great  and  holy  Mediator,  as  suffering  the  penalty  of 
law  instead  of  man. 

It  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  show  what  was  Hare's  view  of 
sacrifice.  On  this  point,  too,  he  does  not  always  express  himself 
consistently.  The  truth,  which  was  Avorking  at  his  heart  and  con- 
science, struggled  with  the  notions  which  his  understanding  had 
embraced.  ^Yhen,  for  instance,  in  the  "  Victory  of  Faith,"  (p.  253,) 
he  tell  us  that,  in  the  humiliation  and  abasement  of  the  Son  of  God, 
"  the  justice  of  God  was  won  by  the  self-sacrifice  of  his  love,  to  make 
a  sacrifice  of  itself,"  we  might  easily  suppose  him  to  be  an  orthodox 
evangelical,  using  a  novel  mode  of  expression ;  but  in  the  following 
quotation  from  the  same  volume,  where  he  is  evidentl}^  expressin^^ 
his  deliberate  opinions,  carefully  and  definitely,  we  find  the  dis- 
tinctive evangelical  view  wanting,  and  an  incongruous  doctrine 
present: 

_  "  One  [way  set  before  the  Jews]  was  the  way  of  sacrifice,  by  which  expia- 
tion and  atonement  were  to  be  made ;  and  which  was  to  be  a  type  and  s ir^ 
of  the  slaying  and  olfering  up  of  the  carnal  will,  the  carnal  nature  to  God." 
—P.  15G. 

Now  this  is  precisely  the  theory  of  sacrifice  which  has  been 
maintained  in  Germany  with  great  ability,  by  Biihr;  and  which 
Maurice  has  adopted  into  his  recent  work  on  sacrifice.  It  makes 
the  Jewish  sacrifices  to  be  no  longer  typical  of  the  penal  sufferings 
and  death  which  Christ  endured  on  behalf  of  sinners,  but  only  of 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  343 

his  own  self-sacrifice,  -whicli  actuated  his  -whole  life,  shining  only 
■with  a  peculiar  transcendency  in  his  death.  It  is  true  that  -with 
this  typical  purpose  and  central  meaning  of  the  sacrificial  rites, 
Hare  connects,  as  does  also  Biihr,  a  number  of  feelings  appropriate 
to  the  occasions,  and  the  offerings  uhich  "u-ere  associated  Avith  the 
rite  in  the  mind  of  the  offerer,  and  some  of -which  -were  specially 
appropriate  to  certain  kinds  of  offering — as  thank-offerings,  sin- 
offerings,  trespass-oiTeriiigs,  &c.  (P.  157.;  But  most  carefully 
does  he  exclude  all  direct  and  proper  typical  reference  to  the  great 
Sacrifice  on  Calvary.  Thus  he  takes  out  the  very  heart  of  the 
•whole  matter,  and  affords  the  clearest  evidence  that  he  Avas  not  an 
orthodox  evangelical  teacher.  To  the  same  effect,  in  his  sermon  on 
the  "Unity  of  the  Church,"  he  says,  that  "the  lesson  of  the  cross" 
■was  (he  names,  he  intimates,  no  other)  that  men  are  "  to  draw  nigh 
to  God,  not  by  this  work  or  by  that  work,  not  by  the  sacrifice  of  this 
thing  or  that,  but  by  the  entire  saci-Ifice  and  resignation  of  their 
•whole  being  to  the  will  of  God."  In  this  way,  "  through  Christ,  and ' 
through  him  alone,  they  have  power  to  approach  to  the  one  God  and 
Father  of  all." — Mission,  ^-c,  p.  281. 

In  the  second  volume  of  the  "  Parish  Sermons,"  Hare  has  two 
sermons  on  critical  texts.  One,  the  oightcenth,  is  on  2  Cor.  viii,  9  : 
"For  3'e  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  though  he  was 
rich,"  <fcc. ;  the  other,  the  twentieth,  on  .)ohn  xix,  30  :  "  When  Jesus, 
therefore,  had  received  the  vinegar,  he  said.  It  is  finished."  In 
these  sermons,  had  his  creed  been  fully  evangelical,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  have  helpcil  making  some  reference  to 
the  vicarious  character  of  Christ's  sufferings;  but  there  is  no  such 
reference.  In  the  latter  of  these  sermons,  especially,  we  should 
have  looked  for  evangelical  doctrine.  The  doctrine  which  Hare 
preaches,  however,  is  such  as  follows : 

"All  that  he  came  to  do  by  action  had  alrmdy  hccn  fliiisht.  But  .  .  . 
his  groat  work  was  to  be  conif)lcted  and  made  nertoct,  a.i  every  trvly  (jrcat 
work  must  be,  by  sufferinj^.     For  no  -^vork  can  be  really  great  unless  it  be 

against  the  co-arse  of  the  world,  &c nor  unless  ve  viaiu/esl  our  ov:n 

sense  of  its  greatness,  l)ij  our  rca/liness  to  rjicf  i']>  our  own  persoiud  inltrests,  and 
pleasures,  and  comforts,  and  to  endure  f<anls/,lp,  and, pain,  and  bereavement, 
and  death  itself,  for  the  sake  of  its  aceomj.lishiiirnt.  Thus  it  was  by  losing  his 
own  life  in  every  possible  way — by  the  a;j"ny  in  tlie  garden  ;  by  the  lliglit  and 
denial  of  those  -vvhoin  he  had  chosen  out  of  the  worhl  to  be  his  companions  and 
friends;  by  the  mockery  and  crnelry  of  tho-^o  whom  his  gmdncss  and  purity 
rendered  more  bitter  a:]aiii-t  him;  i>y  ihr  ti'.inti<'  and  murdi-rons  cries  oftho 
people,  whom  he  had  loaded  with  every  earthly  benefit,  and  Avhom  lie  desired 
to  crown  with  eternal  blessings;  and  by  the  clo>ing  sutVerings  on  the  cross — 
that  Jesus  was  to  gain  his  own  life,  and  tlic  everlastini:  life  of  all  who  will  believe 
in  him.  All  this",  then,  the  whole  work  of  the  redemption  of  mankind,  does 
our  Lord  ia  the  te.xt  declare  to  bo  finished."— Pp.  3S8,  389. 


344  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [Jtily, 

This  doctrine  is,  indeed,  deplorably  defective ;  and  there  is  much 
more  in  the  same  strain  in  this  sermon,  in  which,  contrary  to  the 
tenor  of  some  former  quotations,  the  death  of  Christ  is  regarded  as 
merely  the  crowning  act  of  his  life,  displaying,  as  in  a  gi-and  sym- 
bolic reality,  that  which  had  ever  been  the  inner  principle  of  his 
life,  and  having  a  moral  power,  in  connexion  with  the  grace  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  to  exercise  a  transforming  influence  upon  the  character 
and  course  of  all  who  rightly  regard  it;  "•becoming  thus,''  to  quote 
Hare's  words,  •'  the  teeming  parent  of  countless  Avorks  of  the  same 
kind,  the  first  in  an  endless  chain  that  should  girdle  the  earth,  and 
stretch  through  all  ages." 

On  the  whole,  we  can  come  to  no  conclusion,  but  that  Hare  was 
decidedly  non- evangelical  on  this  grand  doctrine  of  atonement, 
though  we  rejoice  in  believing  that  the  faith  of  his  heart  was  often 
better  than  the  doctrine  of  his  head.  If  we  have  seemed  to  labour 
this  point,  it  has  been  because,  in  his  own  country.  Hare  is  not 
unfrequcntly  claimed  by  evangelical  Church  of  England  journals, 
{The  Christian  Observer  viudi  Church  of  England  Quarterlij,  for 
example,)  as  belonging  to  their  party;  is  counted  as  such  by  manj' 
of  the  clergy  of  his  own  Church,  and  by  other  parties  has  been  gen- 
erally held  to  occupy  at  least  a  doubtful  position.  His  expressions, 
indeed,  often  approach  to  evangelical  orthodoxy — he  had  strong 
sj-mpathies  in  favour  of  the  old-fashioned  evangelical  truths — but 
fundamentally  and  intellectually  he  was,  we  grieve  to  repeat,  not 
orthodox  in  his  evangelical  creed. 

There  exists  an  intimate  connexion  between  the  -doctrine  of  a 
vicarious  atonement  for  sin,  and  that  of  justification  by  faith. 
Hare,  indeed,  disbelieved  the  former,  and  yet,  in  a  sense,  believed 
the  latter.  But  we  must  distinguish  in  what  sense  Christian  fliith, 
according  to  him,  signifies  a  general  persuasion  of  God's  good  will 
to  man,  as  manifested  in  the  incarnation,  the  life,  and  death  of  his 
Son.  When  a  sinner  becomes  persuaded  of  this,  his  own  attitude 
toward  God  becomes  that  of  gratitude  and  trust ;  his  affections  are  set 
right ;  and  at  the  same  time  that  the  sinner  thus  trusts  and  believes 
in  God  the  Father,  through  Christ,  he  becomes  an  actual  recipient 
of  his  pardoning  love,  and  of  a  growing  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  He  has  put  away  his  rebellion  and  his  unbelief,  and  God  at 
once  puts  away  his  anger.  The  sinner  is  now  justified;  he  is  set 
right  with  God.  From  this  time  forth  he  is  in  process  of  sanctifi- 
cation.  All  this  Hare  seems  to  call  the  Avork  of  regeneration,  nor 
does  he  draw  the  distinction  anywhere,  so  far  as  we  have  noted  it, 
between  regeneration  and  sanctification. 

Such  a  doctrine  is  rather  one  of  regeneration  by  Riith,  than  of  justi- 


1856.]  Jidius  Charles  Hare.  345 

fication  by  faith,  in  the  ordinary  Protestant  sense.  Faith  is  supposed 
to  bring  the  sinner  into  appropriate  spiritual  dispositions  toAvard 
God,  as  his  Maker,  Jud;:o,  and  l.cdccmer;  and  thereupon  God  is 
represented  as  sendin;:;  down  upon  the  sinner,  bot!i  the  light  of  his 
countenance  and  the  hallowing  influences  of  his  Spirit.  Faith,  in 
fact,  operates  morally  upon  the  believer,  producing  in  him  such  u 
state  of  feeling  as  is  congruous  to  the  Father's  purposes  of  love,  and 
to  the  operation  of  the  indwelling,  hallowing  Spirit.  V/hereas, 
according  to  the  true  Reformation  doctrine,  such  as  it  is  taught,  for 
example,  in  the  Homilies  of  the  Church  of  England,  justifying  faith 
is  understood  to  be  exercised  spccihcally  in  Christ,  as  by  his  death 
making  expiation  and  satisfaction  for  tiie  fiuncr's  guilt,  or  (to  put 
the  same  idea  in  another  light)  in  Cod's  covenant  with  mankind  in 
Christ,  as  offering  them  pardon  for  the  sake  of  Christ's  death ;  and 
this  faith,  whatever  may  be  its  congvuity  as  a  condition,  is  yet 
•viewed  racrely  as  a  condition  of  justilication. 

Justification,  again,  according  to  the  same  doctrine,  the  doctrine 
of  the  Reformation,  is  viewed  as  a  change,  primarih'  and  properly, 
not  of  disposition  or  principle  on  man's  {.art,  but  morel}'  of  relation, 
as  "a  relative,  not  a  real,  change,"  to  u.-e  the  established  phraseology. 
Only,  coinstantaneously  with  this  exorcise  of  justifying  faith  on  the 
part  of  the  sinner,  and  the  corrcspon'.U'ut  act  of  pardon  or  justifica- 
tion on  the  part  of  God,  there  is  believed  to  be  conveyed  the  special 
and  covenanted  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghoit.  whereby  the  i;.innor  becomes 
"  a  new  creature.'' 

Hare  talks  much,  indeed,  about  Clirist  as  the  sinner's  righteous- 
ness; but  Avith  him  this  seems  to  be  but  a  compendious  expression, 
Avhich  must  be  taken  to  signify,  that  the  faith  in  the  life,  and  especially 
in  the  death,  of  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  is  the  origin  of  the  sinner's 
righteousness ;  and,  further,  that  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  as  the 
God-Man,  becomes  both  the  standard  and  source  of  the  believer's 
growing  righteousness ;  or.  in  a  wcr;l,  tir.it  the  righteousness  which 
>vas  manifested  in  Christ,  as  God-lncaruate,  and  the  righteousness 
which  is  derived  from  him,  constitute  the  oidy  ground  and  source 
of  righteousness  to  the  sinner.  Christ  is  thus  his  righteousness; 
and  his  only  trust  and  hope  must  be  in  that.  In  this  sense,  to  quote 
Hare's  words,  the  believer  is  ''to  seek,  through  faith,  to  bo  justified 
by  the  blood  of  Christ,"  [that  is,  he  is  to  bo  brought  to  right  feel- 
ings toward  God.  and  a  sense  of  acceptance  before  him,  tlu'ough  a 
contemplation  of  the  love  of  God  to  man,  particularly  as  shown  in 
the  death  of  Christ,  the  God-Man.  for  sinners,]  "  and  casting  off  all 
pretensions  to  any  righteousness  of  his  own."  [as  if  his  mere  un- 
helped  and  isolated  nature  could  bring  forth  righteousness,]  he  is 

Fourth  Sekies,  Vol.  VHL— *2U 


346  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

"to  put  on  his  perfect  righteousness;"  [that  is,  to  gain,  by  his  faith, 
and  love,  and  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  growing  conformity  to 
that  righteousness  of  Christ,  Avhich  is  the  standard  of  perfection  for 
humanity.] — Mission  of  the  Comforter,  p.  30,  cf 

It  might  be  inferred  from  this,  as  was,  in  fact,  the  case,  that  Hare 
was  no  believer  in  instantaneous  conversion  or  regeneration.  A 
grand  central  fact  not  being  presented  as  the  one  object  for  the  faith 
of  the  penitent  sinner  to  fix  upon,  and  an  act  of  hearty  alliance  in 
the  blood  of  Christ  as  our  expiatory  sacrifice  not  being  made  the 
immediate  condition  of  justification,  and  antecedent  of  regeneration, 
there  is  not  the  same  critical  hinge  on  which  the  whole  work  of  sal- 
vation turns.  The  faith  required  is  rather  passive  and  receptive, 
than  active  and  appropriating,  and,  therefore,  the  operation  is  less 
a  matter  of  distinct  consciousness,  and  the  crisis  less  marked.  A 
certain  act  of  faith,  a  particular  exercise  of  affiance,  is  not  made 
epochal,  vital,  determinative.  Faith  is  rather  a  disposition  Vi-hich  is 
induced,  a  habit  Avhich  is  formed,  and  which  respects  the  whole  rev- 
elation of  God  in  Christ.  It  does,  indeed,  view  the  death  of  Christ 
as  the  crowning  act  of  his  life,  and  that  iu  which  he  most  fully 
showed  forth  the  nature  and  love  of  the  Father,  and  as  therefore 
demanding  a  more  reverent  and  grateful  regard  than  any  other  fact 
in  the  history  of  Christ ;  5'et  it  does  not  look  upon  this  event  as 
standing  toward  the  sin  and  guilt  of  mankind  in  a  relation 
altogether  peculiar  and  unique.  This  habit  of  faith  is  therefore 
gradually  acquired.  There  is,  indeed,  a  season  of  conviction  and 
repentance,  during  which  the  habit  of  a  grateful,  confiding  faith  is 
but  in  process  of  formation ;  and  when,  in  its  darker  character  of 
guilty  fear,  this  has  passed  avray,  through  the  prevalence  of  faith, 
there  is  then  realized  a  "  peace  and  joy  through  believing,"  and  the 
abiding  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  but  still  the  seasons  and  ex- 
periences, thus  distinguished,  melt  and  pass  into  each  other.  In 
some  souls,  indeed,  the  crisis  of  conviction  uiay  be  much  keener 
than  in  others,  and  the  contrast  between  the  different  stages  and 
seasons  more  marked.  This,  in  a  fine  passage.  Hare  describes  to 
have  been  the  case  with  Luther,  and  to  be  ordinarily  the  experience 
of  "  spirits  of  a  peculiar  depth  and  earnestness."  "  The  conscience," 
he  says,  "  thus  stirred  and  shaken,  in  its  agony  and  bloody  sweat, 
will  often,  for  a  while,  reject  all  consolation,  and  is  unable  to  dis- 
cern the  angel  corning  to  strengthen  it  through  the  thickness  of  the 
surrounding  night."  But  still  this  admission  does  not  alter  his 
view  of  the  principles  and  process  involved  in  justification  and  re- 
generation. Most  strongly  does  he  lay  it  down  in  his  Parish  Ser- 
mons, that  those  -who  assert  "  that  they  received  Christ  at  such  or 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  347 

such  a  moment,  contradict  our  Lord's  declaration  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  Cometh  not  with  observation."  We  need  scarcely  add  that 
in  this  point  he  agreed  with  Coleridge.* 

It  is  pleasing  to  find,  notwithstanding  Hare's  particular  views  on 
this  point,  two  cases  delightfully  narrated  in  the  first  volume  of  his 
Parish  Ser7nons,  which  are  evidently  instances  of  genuine  conver- 
sion and  of  blessed  religious  experience,  although  the  reflection  of  a 
hazy  doctrine  may  be  observed  in  the  character  of  some  portion  of 
the  experience  in  both  instances. 

We  know  not  whether  it  is  much  to  the  purpose  to  observe,  that 
in  one  place,  in  his  notes  to  the  "Mission  of  the  Comforter,"  Hare 
seems  disposed  to  defend,  and  almost  to  identify  himself  with,  the 
''evangelicals,"  any  more  than  to  note,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  his 
"Contest  with  Rome,"  he  aims  against  the  same  party  a  significant 
sneer  at  "  Exeter  Hall,"  and  in  another  place,  in  the  notes  already 
named,  tells  Mr.  Ward,  that  for  him  to  boast  as  if  he  had  damaged 
the  reputation  of  Luther,  when  he  has  only  hit  certain  peculiarities 
of  the  modern  evangelicals,  was  much  as  if  "  Thersitcs  had  boasted 
of  having  run  his  spear  through  Hector,  because  he  had  spit  at  his 
Lycian  auxiliaries."  It  is  certain,  that  while  Hare,  with  his  large 
heart  and  devout  feeling,  saw  much  to  agree  with  in  the  doctrine, 
spirit,  and  purpose  of  the  evangelical  Low  Church  party  in  the 
Church  of  England,  there  was  also  not  a  little  in  their  creed,  preju- 
dices,* and  tendencies,  as  a  party,  with  which  it  could  not  be  ex- 
pected that  he  v.ould  sympathize.  We  fear  he  did  not  sympathize 
with  all  in  them  which  was  sound  and  right ;  we  feel  sure,  that  some 
part  of  that  which  he  must  have  disliked  in  them  was  wrong,  the 
result  of  a  narrow  and  somewhat  superficial  theology,  for  the  most 
part  highly  Calvinistic  and  enthusiastically  pre-millenarian,  and  of 
very  defective  knowledge  and  training  in  Biblical  criticism. f 

Hare's  views  on  the  subject  of  inspiration  arc  iho  next,  and  the 
only  other  main  point  to  which  we  shall  refer.  It  is  well  known 
how  lax  were  the  teachings  of  Coleridge  on  this  subject,  and  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  Hare's  views  difiered  from  his  rather  in  degree  than 
in  kind.  Though  we  have  not  found  reason  for  believing  that  Hare 
adopted,  to  the  full  extent,  the  views  held  by  Coleridge,  and  many 
others  of  the  same  school,  as  to  the  power  and  authority  of  the 
intuitive  reason,  yet,  on  the  whole,  he  is  disposed  to  magnify  the 
intuitive  power  and  faculty  of  the  soul  in  comparison  with  the  capa- 

°Sce  the  "Victory  of  Faith,"  pr7S5/m,  but  particularly  the  last  sermon  in  the 
course ;  Mission  of  the  Comforter,  vol.  ii,  pp.  25.  30,  102-3,  106-7,  137,  608 ; 
"Parish  Sermons,"  vol.  i,  pp.  01,  35,  7'),  7C,  142,  449. 

I  Mission,  &c.,  pp.  557,  731.     Contest  with  Kome,  p.  230. 


848  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

bilities  and  functions  of  the  understanding.  This  tendency  natu- 
rally, if  not  inevitably,  leads  to  the  depression  of  the  authority  of 
the  Bible,  considered  as  an  exact  revelation  and  standard  of  object- 
ive truth.  Its  spirit,  and  the  main  purport  of  its  teaching,  are 
recognised  by  the  reason  as  true  and  divine,  and  constrain  the  alle- 
giance of  the  conscience;  but  if  salvation  and  sanctification  -u-erc 
niade  to  depend,  in  any  important  degree,  upon  the  letter  and  pre- 
cise statements  of  the  word  of  God,  then  the  understanding,  with 
its  logical  processes  and  discussions,  would  come  to  hold  too  im- 
portant a  relation  to  the  believer's  spiritual  development.  In  fact. 
it  will  be  seen  at  once,  that  a  logical  and  systematic  theology,  con- 
stituted out  of  a  number  of  definite  objective  truths,  upon  which  a 
Christian  must  anchor  his  faith  and  hope,  becomes  a  necessity,  if- 
the  strict  doctrine  of  inspiration,  which  holds  every  part  of  the  word 
of  God  to  be  fully  and  exactly  true,  is  maintained.  This  doctrine, 
therefore,  will  not  accord  with  the  theolog}"  of  those  who  make  faith 
to  be,  to  repeat  the  language  we  recently  used,  rather  passive  and 
receptive,  than  active  and  appropriating,  and  sanctification  rather 
to  be,  from  first  to  last,  an  unconscious  spiritual  process  wrought  by 
the  progressive  assimilation  (so  to  speak)  of  certain  grand  ideas, 
than  dependent,  at  any  time,  upon  the  hearty  and  active  reception 
and  appropriation  of  certain  objective  truths  and  distinct  utterances 
of  grace  and  love.  Hare,  indeed,  as  he  admits  more  objcctivcness 
into  his  theology  of  faith  than  most  others  of  his  school,  seems,  in 
like  manner,  to  deal  more  reverently  with  the  word  of  God.  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  theory  on  the  case,  he  was  a  diligent  and 
loving  student  of  the  sacred  text,  and  delighted  himself  in  its  explicit 
revelations  of  truth  and  promise.  JStill  there  are  indications,  that 
his  views  in  regard  to  inspiration  were  far  from  sound.  We  do  not 
find  fault  with  his  severe  handling  of  the  theory  of  verbal  dictation; 
for  so  it  ought  to  be  called,  and  not  verbal  inspiration;  though  we 
have  a  right  to  complain  tlitit  he,  as  well  as  ilaurice.  follows  Cole- 
ridge in  ignoring  any  other  view,  as  opposed  to  their  own,  besides 
this.  But  we  do  deplore,  that  while  he  denounces  this  theory 
as  if  it  were  the  only  one  known  in  England,  he  nowhere  conde- 
scends to  even  hint  at  the  outline  of  a  better.  We  are  yet  more 
concerned  to  observe,  that  in  his  "  Life  of  Sterling,"  he  refers  to 
Coleridge's  "  Confessions  of  an  Inquiring  Spirit,"  in  such  a  way  as, 
while  no  caveat  is  entered  against  any  part  of  it,  to  intimate  a 
general  api)roval  of  its  purport ;  and  th;it,  in  consistency  with  this, 
be  makes  light,  in  his  "Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  English  Re- 
view," of  such  matters  as  discrepances  in  the  Evangelists,  "  which 
may,  indeed,  perplex  those  who  cling  to  the  vulgar  notion  of  literal 


1S56.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  349 

inspiration;  but,  when  wc  take  a  correcter  vie^v,  arc  wholly  imma- 
terial ;"  adding  that  "  the  coiTCction  of  our  views  on  inspiration 
would  remove  a  number  of  stumbling-blocks  which  now  beset  our 
students  of  theology,  and  which  they  cannot  get  over  except  by  will- 
fully closing  their  eyes  to  them."  Yet,  the  very  discrepance  hsre 
specially  referred  to  by  Hare,  (that  found  in  the  history  of  the 
Gcrgesene  demoniac.)  and  which  he  agrees  with  Olshausen  in  con- 
sidering equally  irreconcilable  and  "  immaterial,"  is  not  admitted  to 
be  any  real  discrepance  by  kStier,  an  exegcte  not  inferior  to  OIs- 
hausen,-and  rated  very  high  by  Hare  himself.  No  doubt  it  is  to 
such  a  philosophy  as  that  of  Coleridge's  on  the  subject  of  inspira- 
tion, a  philosophy  borrowed,  like  most  of  Coleridge's,  from  Ger- 
many, that  Hare  refers  in  his  Preface  to  the  '•  Mission  of  the 
Comforter,"  when  be  says  that  in  Germany  the  champions  of  the 
truth  defend  it,  "  not  by  shutting  their  eyes  to  its  difficulties,  and 
hooting  at  its  adversaries,  but  by  calmly  refuting  those  adversa- 
ries, and  solving  the  difficulties,  Avith  the  help  of  weapons  derived 
from  a  higher  philology  and  jjhilosophy."  We  confess  that  we  have 
met  with  nothing  in  all  Hare's  Avritings  to  us  so  distressing  as 
these  passages  on  the  subject  of  inspiration. 

Akin  to  his  views  on  this  subject  are  those  which  he  seems  to 
have  held  on  the  subject  of  miracles.  Undoubtedly  these,  and  the 
other  extei-nal  evidences  of  Christianity,  Avere,  by  the  Grotian 
school,  insisted  upon  far  too  exclusively.  Even  Chalmers,  also,  has 
confessed,  that  at  one  time  he  placed  too  main  a  reliance  on  this 
branch  of  CAadenee.  But  Coleridge  and  his  school  place  miracles 
too  low  by  far,  scarcely  admitting  them  to  have  any  importance 
whatever  as  evidence  of  the  divinity  of  Christianity.  They  have 
authority,  in  Coleridge's  view,  only  as  authenticated  and  accepted 
by  the  reason ;  they  are  not  allowed  to  be  the  seal  of  God  to  the 
validity  of  the  commission  of  tho?e  by  whom  they  were  wrought. 
How  far  Hare  vi-cnt  along  with  Culcridgo  in  this  view  we  know  not, 
but  there  is  enough  evidence  to  show  that  at  least  he  shared  in  the 
general  bias  of  his  school* 

Liberal  as  Hare  was,  he  was  a  thorough  Church  of  England  man. 
He  loved  to  preach  upon  the  subject  of  her  main  festivals;  and  to 
trace  the  order  of  her  services  through  the  year  as  illustrating  the 
life  and  offices  of  Christ.  Indeed,  as  we  remarked  in  a  former 
article,  the  Anglican  Churcli  avrangemcnts  and  formularies  are 
peculiarly  suited  to  the  principles  and  predilections  of  the  Broad 
Churchman,  who  dwells  so  fondly  upon  the  life  and  human  character 

*  See  "  Mission  of  the  Comforl^jr,"  vol.  ii,  pp.  553,  6G4.  "Guesses  at  Truth," 
First  Series,  p.  ?So. 


350  Julius  Charles  Hare.  [July, 

of  our  Lord,  -wliile  he  ordinarily  avoids  the  theology  of  guilt  and 
ransom,  of  law  and  expiation,  and,  indeed,  doctrinal  theology  in 
general.  But,  though  a  Church  of  England  man.  Hare  was  no 
believer  in  sacramental  salvation  in  any  form ;  which  he  speaks  of 
as  a  doctrine  of  "  magical  powers  and  acts."  If  our  readers  should 
sometimes,  in  consulting  him,  think  his  phraseology  on  the  subject 
of  baptism  ambiguous,  they  will  find  by  and  by,  that,  at  any  rate, 
what  he  means  is  nothing  like  Tractarianism. 

We  feel  that  we  have  b}-  no  means  done  justice  to  this  distin- 
guished writer.  We  could  much  more  easily  have  managed,  if  he 
had  been  a  man  of  less  comprehensive  cultivation,  and  less  catholic 
sympathies.  But  it  is  hard  to  form,  and  harder  still,  within  reason- 
able compass,  to  furnish  a  fair  estimate  of  a  man  who  seems  to  have 
been  equally  familiar  with  pvofone  and  with  sacred  studies,  with  an- 
cient and  modern  history  and  philosophy;  with  Fathers,  Schoolmen, 
Mystics,  Reformers,  Puritan  and  Church  of  England  divines,  Ger- 
man Philosophy  and  Theology,  and  British  Poetry  and  Literature; 
who  could  criticise  with  equal  ability  a  play  or  a  metaphysical 
argument,  an  opera  or  a  political  treatise;  who  was  an  equally  good 
judge  of  a  fine  old  painting  or  a  fine  old  folio;  who  had  sympathies 
which  linked  him  with  all  tendencies,  tempers,  and  ages — only 
never  Avith  meanness  or  vice;  who,  in  his  theological  writings, 
quoted,  with  almost  equal  relish,  Tauler  or  Calvin,  Andrewes  or 
Leighton,  Donne  or  Baxter,  Matthew  Henry  or  Neandcr,  while, 
above  all,  he  studied  and  honoured  Luther  and  Coleridge;  w^ho 
now  verges  on  Mysticism,  then  speaks  out  in  the  strong  dialect 
of  Lutheran  evangelism ;  and  again  philosophizes  in  the  spirit  of 
Coleridge's  better  and  more  genial  vein;  who  here  winds  his  way 
in  brilliant  allegory,  and  elsewhere  writes  in  a  practical  style  of 
unequalled  pith  and  point.  Take  him  for  all  in  all,  he  was,  per- 
haps, the  richest,  freshest,  and  most  genial  among  English  writers 
of  our  time,  on  religious  subjects ;  and,  much  as  we  regret  his 
serious  deficiencies  on  some  vital  points,  yet  we  cannot  but  be 
thankful  that,  in  his  case,  a  soul  of  such  various  and  exquisite 
endowments  was  so  deeply  swayed  by  genuine  and  unsectarian 
piety. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  in  reading  his  writings,  that  Hare, 
"with  all  his  excellences  and  accomplishments,  with  all  his  wisdom 
and  eloquence,  and  Christian  feeling,  was  seriously  defective  in 
his  views  of  those  doctrines  which  constitute  the  very  heart  of 
Christianity.  Strength  of  intellect  was  his ;  yet  was  his  mind  not 
so  strong  as  his  spirit  was  genial,  nor  was  his  insight  so  profound 
as  his  apprehension  was  quick  and  subtile.     His  perception   of 


1856.]  Julius  Charles  Hare.  351 

analogies  and  harmonics  Avas  wonderfully  quick,  because  sedulously, 
■we  might  almost  say,  passionately,  cultured:  but  for  a  philosopher, 
and  theologian  especially,  the  faculty  of  perceiving  and  discrim- 
inating ditlcrences  is  not  less  necessary.  This  faculty  Hare  seems 
to  have  cultivated  with  little  diligence;  hence  the  incautious  and 
indiscriminating  praise  Avhich  he  has  bestowed  upon  such  writers  as 
Coleridge  and  ^Inurice.  not  to  refer  to  certain  German  philosophers 
and'  theologians  of  a  very  dubious  character.  That  Hare,  by  his 
writings,  has  been  a  benefactor  to  his  race,  is  not  to  be  doubted,  at 
least  b}^  us ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he 
has  added  weight  and  authority  to  opinions,  to  writers,  and  to  a  school 
of  theology,  from  which  great  and  vital  danger  is  to  feared  to  the 
best  interests  of  Protestants.  I'erhaps,  between  the  prevalence  of 
semi-Poper}',  on  the  one  hand,  and  an  uncritical  and  narrow  evan- 
gelism on  the  other,  with  neology,  unchecked  and  unanswered  by 
either  party,  but  making  its  inroads  upon  both,  we  should  rather 
be  thankful  than  surprised  that  the  Proad-Church  school,  heterodox 
as  are  many  of  its  tendencies,  has  attained  to  its  present  influence 
and  development  in  the  Anglican  Church.  We  trust  it  will  force 
Tractarianism  to  give  up  its  blind  hold  of  tradition,  and  the  evan- 
gelical school  to  apply  themselves  to  a  profound  and  critical  stud}' 
of  Scripture  and  theology.  Put,  in  any  case,  it  is  a  thing  to  be 
noted,  how  rapidly  this  school  has  advanced  in  power  and  public 
influence  during  the  last  twelve  months.  Had  Hare  been  \Wing 
now,  he  might  have  found  organs  easily,  in  which  to  express  his 
■views.  Both  the  great  English  (^larterlies  may  now  be  con- 
sidered Proad  Church,  besides  minor  magazines  and  revievrs.  A 
strange  amalgam  the  party  seems  to  be,  of  semi-infidelity.  High 
Churchism,  social  benevolence,  and  real  religious  liberality  and 
zeal,  not  without  some  considerable  leaven,  liere  and  there,  of  evan- 
gelical truth  and  feeling.  Out  of  it  will  come  fiorth  good  and  evil, 
not  a  little.  I\Ieanwhile,  let  the  orthodox  watch  it,  in  a  spirit  at 
once  wary  and  liberal ;  equally  ready  to  Icam  from  what  is  good 
and  to  contend  against  what  is  evil.  Assured  we  are  that  the 
noblest  and  best  of  the  party  has  gone  from  the  strife  of  time 
to  a  peaceful  land  of  truth  and  love.  Had  he  lived  longer,  he  might 
have  receded  more  and  more  from  his  friemls;  and  have  still  more 
fully  outgrown  the  anti-evangelical  ijrejudiccs  and  tendencies  of  the 
philosophy  to  which  he  had  addicted  himself 


352  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.        [July, 

Art.    II.-THE  CHINESE  LANGUAGE  SPOKEN  AT  FUH  CHAU. 

BY  REV.  M.  C.  \YIIITE,  M.  D. 

The  Chinese  language  is,  in  theory,  a  language  of  monosyllables ; 
but,  OAving  to  the  paucity  of  distinct  syllables,  t^vo  monosyllabic  words 
having,  in  the  language  of  books,  the  same  signification,  are  often 
joined  together  in  the  spoken  language  to  represent  a  single  idea. 
Other  varieties  of  compound  ATords  are  used  to  express  ideas  which, 
in  other  languages,  arc  represented  by  a  simple  word.  Some  words 
which  are  generally  regarded  as  monosyllables,  contain  two  or  more 
vowel  sounds,  which  are  pronounced  so  distinct  and  separate  as  to 
constitute  real  dissyllables,  as,  kiang,  hiong,  sieu,  which  are  pro- 
nounced ki-ang,  hi-ong,  si-eu. 

There  are  in  the  Fuh  Chau  dialect  but  ten  vowel  sounds,  and  they 
are  generally  reckoned  as  only  nine,  and  the  elementary  consonant 
Bounds  are  only  ten,  hence  the  number  of  syllables  must  also  be 
small.  Many  combinations  of  consonants  found  in  other  languages 
are  unkno'U'n  to  the  Chinese,  and  the  structure  of  their  language  is 
unfavourable  to  the  formation  of  many  polysyllabic  words.  To  com- 
pensate for  these  restrictions  upon  the  formation  of  words,  they  have 
adopted  the  use  of  a  variety  of  tones  to  distinguish  ideas  expressed 
by  what  we  should  ca]l  the  same  word. 

The  tones  used  in  different  dialects  vary  both  in  their  number  and 
intonation. 

In  the  court  dialect,  spoken  at  the  Capital,  and  by  public  offi- 
cers in  all  parts  of  the  empire,  there  are  five  tones.  In  the  Tiechu 
dialect  there  are  said  to  be  nine  tones.  In  the  several  dialects 
spoken  at  Canton,  Amoy,  and  I'uh  Chau,  there  are  reckoned  eight 
tones;  but  in  the  Fuh  Chau  dialect  there  are  really  but  seven 
tones,  for  the  second  and  sixth  are  identical,  and  in  their  books, 
the  words  referred  to  these  two  tones  are  all  arranged  under  the 
second. 

In  the  Fuh  Chau  dialect  there  is  a  native  work,  called  the  Book  of 
Eight  Tones,  and  Thirtij-six  Mother  Characters.  In  this  book 
all  the  characters  in  common  use  are  systematically  arranged, 
according  to  their  sounds.  Three  of  the  mother  characters  arc 
mere  duplicates,  and  arc  not  used  in  the  body  of  the  work.  All  the 
syllabic  sounds  of  this  dialect  are,  therefore,  arranged  in  thirty-three 
genera,  under  mother  characters,  having  the  same  final  sound  as  the 


185G.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  353 

characters  arranged  luidcr  them.  Each  genus  (containing  the  same 
final  sound)  is  again  divided  into  fifteen  classes,  in  reference  to  the 
initial  sounds  ^yith  Avbich  they  arc  severally  connected. 

The  Chinese  have  not  carried  their  analysis  of  vocal  sounds  to 
the  nice  elementary  distinctions  recognised  in  Western  languages; 
but  each  simple  word  is  divided  by  their  analysis  into  two  parts : 
Ck  final  part,  or  " rnoihcr  soir/id,''  which  gives  body  to  the  word,  and 
a  "  leading  part"  or  initial  sound. 

The  initial  scund  consists  of  a  single  consonant,  or  of  two  conso- 
nants combined,  but  no  vowel  ever  acts  as  the  "  leading  part,"  or 
i?iitial.'-^ 

The  Jinal  pari,  or  "mother  sound"  consists,  essentially,  of  a 
vowel  or  vowels,  followed,  in  some  words,  by  a  single  consonant. 
but  never  by  two  consonants.  Ng,  which  is  found  at  the  end  of 
many  Chinese  words,  represents,  as  in  English,  but  a  single  element- 
ary consonant  sound,  unlike  either  n  or  g  when  used  alone,  and  not 
compounded  of  the  sounds  of  7i  and  g  combined.  This  is  a  distinct 
elementary  sound,  and  is  used  both  at  the  beginning  and  end  of 
Chinese  words.  TJiis  consonant  sound,  which  we  represent  by  ng. 
is  one  of  the  initials,  and  in  some  cases  it  is  used  alone,  without  the 
addition  of  :i  final,  but  only  as  a  pvofi.x  to  other  words,  giving  them 
a  negative  signification ;  as,  ho",  good ;  Vig'-ho",  bad ;  k'6^  to  depart ; 
ng'-k'o",  will  not  depart. 

Each  class  of  syllables  is  again  sub-divided,  according  to  the  dis- 
tinctions introduced  by  the  tones. 

The  thirty-three  Jinal  sounds,  multiplied  by  the  fifteen  initial 
sounds,  give  four  hundred  and  ninety- five  primary  syllables.  These 
again,  multiplied  by  the  seven  tones  in  actual  use,  give  three  thou- 
sand four  hundred  and  sixty-five  difiorent  monosyllabic  words, 
which  may  be  distinguished  by  the  car;  to  which  may  be  added  the 
scmi-voral  imti'ih  ng,  used  in  a  single  tone  without  tifnal,  as  men- 
tioned above. 

Though  there  arc  in  theory  this  number  of  simple  words,  many 
of  them  are  distinguished  from  others  by  very  slight  shades  of  dif- 
ference, and  there  are  (so  far  as  known  to  the  writer)  only  sixteen 
hundred  and-forfyfour  in  actual  use. 

To  supply  the  defect  Vrhich  this  paucity  of  words  occasions  in  the 
spoken  language,  two  or  more  words  are  frequently  combined  into 
one,  to  express  a  single  idea.     This  practice  is  so  common,  that  the 

*  One  of  the  (so  called)  initials  lias  uktcIv  the  force  of  the  Greek  spiritu.^ 
leni^,  and  denotes  tlie  ah?oncc  of  any  initial  consonant,  in  which  case  the  word 
begins  wilh  the  vowel  ol' tha  final  or  ^'■viother  sound" 


354  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.         [July, 

dialect  of  Fuh  Chau  has  become,  to  a  great  extent,  a  language  of 
polysyllables. 

The  statement  sometimes  put  forth,  that  there  are  hundreds  of 
characters  expressing  different  ideas,  -NYhich  are  all  pronounced 
exactly  alike,  refers  only  to  the  -written  language  as  read ;  and  even 
in  the  language  as  read  the  number  of  set  phrases  and  the  peculiar 
collocation  of  ^Yords  give  a  good  degree  of  dcfiniteness  to  the  lan- 
guage. There  is  but  little  more  difficulty  in  understanding  the  idea 
intended,  than  we  experience  when  we  hear  an  English  book  read, 
in  Avhich  occur  such  words  as  right,  rite,  ivrite,  and  lorighf,  or 
cleave,  to  split,  and  cleave,  tu  adhere.  It  is  true,  however,  that  such 
equivocal  words  are  more  numerous  in  Chinese  than  in  English. 

In  the  different  provinces,  and  in  different  districts  of  the  same 
province,  the  reading  sounds  of  the  characters  differ  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  Arabic  figures  are  differently  pronounced  by  the 
various  nations  of  Europe.  The  spoken  dialects  also  differ  widely 
from  the  reading  dialects  of  the  same  localities. 

In  general,  the  spoken  dialects  are  more  diffuse  than  the  written 
language,  which  is  common  to  all  parts  of  the  empire.  This  results, 
in  the  main,  from  the  frequent  necessity  of  using  two  words  of  sim- 
ilar meaning,  or,  more  properly,  a  dissyllable,  to  express  an  idea 
definitely,  when  a  single  written  character  or  word  is  all  that  is 
required. 

The  spoken  languages  being  more  diffuse,  and  differing  in  style 
from  the  Avritton  language,  they  have  adopted,  in  several  dialects,  a 
system  of  writing  the  spoken  dialects,  by  borrowing  from  the  general 
written  language  a  few  common  characters,  which  they  use  chiefly 
as  phmictics,  to  represent  the  sounds  of  the  spoken  language.  These 
characters  are  thus  used  without  reference  to  their  signification  in 
the  classical  writings  which  have  been  handed  down  from  the  remote 
ages  of  antiquity. 

This  is  the  common  system  of  mercantile  and  epistolary  writing 
adopted  by  persons  of  limited  education,  and  can  only  be  understood 
by  persons  speaking  the  same  dialect,  while  the  style  of  writing  in 
use  among  professed  literary  men,  is  understood  alike  by  the  literati 
of  all  parts  of  the  empire. 

The  system  of  initials  and  fnals  used  in  the  "Eook  of  Eight 
Tones,"  referred  to  above,  would,  if  used  for  that  purpose,  form  (in 
connection  with  the  tonal  ?}iarks)  a  complete  alphabet  for  the  Fuh 
Chau  dialect.  They  have  been  so  used  by  missionaries  for  writing 
colloquial  phrases,  in  their  private  study  of  the  language.  Three 
of  the  gospels  have  been  written  out  in  this  manner  by  Chinese 
teachers  in  the  employment  of  missionaries. 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  355 

Books  ^\rittcn  in  this  style  can  bo  read  -with  the  same  facility 
as  alphabetic  -writing  of  other  languages,  and  are  a  great  aid  in 
learning  the  colloquial,  though  no  books  have  been  printed  in  this 
style,  and  the  inifials  and  finals  have  never  been  used  in  this  man- 
ner in  native  books. 

To  foreigners  learning  the  Fuh  Chau  dialect,  a  thorough  knovrledge 
of  this  system  of  initials  and  finals,  and  the  c/if/ii  tones,  is  of 
great  importance. 

The  student  should  constantly  refer  the  pronunciation  of  every 
word  to  its  place  in  this  S3'stera,  till  he  can  analyze  each  spoken 
word,  giving  its  proper  initial  and  final,  and  point  out  its  proper 
tone  as  readily  as  he  can  spell  any  word  in  his  mother  tongue. 

Slight  variations  in  the  pronunciation  of  Chinese  woi-ds  are 
noticed  among  different  Chinese  teachers.  ^Yhcn,  therefore,  Chinese 
words  are  represented  by  the  letters  of  the  English  alphabet,  (which 
are  written  more  readily  than  the  Chinese  initials  and  fnals,)  the 
student  refers  at  once  to  tlie  sounds  of  the  corresponding  initials 
Q.nd  fnals,  as  he  has  learned  them  from  his  teacher. 

The  letters  of  the  English  alphabet,  when  used  in  the  following 
pages  to  represent  Chinese  sounds,  are  to  be  pronounced  as  follows: 

I. — Co^^soNANT  Sounds. 

1.  Ch,  having  the  same  sound  as  in  church. 

2.  Ch',  ch  with  the  same  sound  as  above,  followed  by  an  addi- 
tional h,  which  is  represented,  in  such  cases,  by  the  Greek  spiritus 
asper,  ('.) 

3.  H,  having  its  own  proper  sound,  as  in  hand,  at  the  beginning 
of  words,  while  at  the  end  of  words  (where  it  occurs  only  in  the 
fourth  and  eighth  tones)  it  denotes  simply  an  abrupt  closing  of  the 
Tocal  organs,  without  the  formation  of  any  distinct  sound.  When 
the  sound  of  h  follows  rJi,  p,  or  t,  it  is.  for  convenience,  represented 
by  the  spiritus  aspcr,  ('.) 

4.  K  has  its  own  proper  sound,  as  in  king. 

5.  K',  A-  followed  by  a  distinct  sound  of  //.  * 

6.  L,  as  in  English  words. 

7.  M,  as  in  English  words. 

8.  N,  as  in  English  words. 

9.  Kg,  as  in  sing,  both  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  words.  It 
often  requires  great  care  to  enunciate  this  sound  correctly  at  the 
beginning  of  words. 

10.  P,  as  in  park,  parade. 

11.  P',  p  followed  by  the  distinct  sound  of  h. 

12.  S.  as  in  same. 


35G  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fi(h  Chan.        [Julj, 

13.  T,  as  in  tame,  till. 

14.  T',  t  followed  by  h,  each  letter  retaining  its  ov-n  proper  sound. 
The  preceding  are  the  consonant  sounds  found  in  the  Fuh  Chau 

initials,  but  it  ^Yill  be  seen  that  there  are,  in  reality,  only  ten  ele- 
mentary consonants,  viz. :  Ch,  H,  K,  L,  M,  iS',  Ng,  P,  S,  T. 

The  spiritus  asper,  (',)  which  is  equivalent  to  h,  being  used  to 
avoid  confounding  jjh  with  the  sound  of/,  and  th  with,  ih  in  ihin 
or  then,  and  to  show  that  it  is  never  silent  in  any  combination. 

II. — Vowels.     There  are  nine  distinct  vowel  sounds,  viz. : 

1.  a,  as  in  far,  father. 

2.  e,  as  in  thei/,  prey,  but  when  followed  by  ng  its  sound  is  nearly 
as  short  as  in  met. 

3.  e,  like  the  flat  sound  in  there,  or  like  a  in  care. 

4.  e,  pronounced  nearly  like  e  in  her,  or  i  in  bird,  but  more  open, 
and  spoken  deeper  in  the  throat. 

5.  i,  as  in  viachine,  but  frequently  like  i  in  pin,  if  the  v/ord  ends 
with  a  consonant. 

6.  0,  as  in  note,  report. 

7.  6,  like  o  in  for,  cord,  lord. 

8.  u,  like  00  in  school;  but  if  the  word  ends  with  h  or  ng,  the 
sound  is  like  that  of  u  in  hull.  The  distinction,  if  any.  between  the 
sound  of  u  in  these  two  forms  of  Chinese  words  is  unimportant  in 
practice,  and  too  slight  to  bo  noted  by  any  diacritical  marks.  At 
the  beginning  of  words,  when  followed  by  another  vowel,  it  has  the 
force  of  7/7  in  English  words. 

9.  ii  has  the  French  sound  of  ii,  as  in  Vllne.  This  is  a  sound 
between  those  of  e  and  oo.  When  two  vowels  come  together  in  the 
same  word,  each  vowel  retains  its  own  sound.  There  are  no  silent 
letters  employed  in  this  system. 

111. — Tones.  Figures  raised  above  the  line,  at  the  end  of  words, 
are  used  to  distinguish  the  tones. 

% 

Note. — This  system  of  orthography  is  substantially  that  known  as  the  system 
of  Sir  William  Jones,  used  for  Ilomanizing  the  languages  of  India,  the  Pacific 
Islands,  and  the  languages  of  the  North  American  Indians.  Some  have  desired 
to  embrace  the  sounds,  used  in  all  the  dialocts  of  China,  in  one  system,  distin- 
guishing them  by  separate  letters,  or  by  diacritical  marks,  so  that  each  letter 
shall  have  a  uniform  sound  in  evt-ry  dialect  for  Trhich  it  is  used.  Such  strict 
unifunnity  would  require  the  use  of  several  diacritical  marks  on  letters  where 
they  are  not  needed,  when,  as  in  the  plan  here  adopted,  slight  modifications  are 
allowed  in  each  dialect.  The  sounds  of  the  letters,  as  here  given,  is  nearly 
identical  with  the  system  used  in  writing  the  language  spoken  at  the  Sandwich 
Islands. 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau. 


357 


TABLE  OF  FES-ALS  AND  INITIALS,  WITH  THEIK  NAMES,  AND 
THEIR  ALFIIABETIC  VALUE  IN  llOMAN  LETTERS. 


THIRTV-mREE   FINALS. 

1 
i 

FIFTEEN 

INITIALS. 

1     Ch'un^' 

^ 

uni' 

IS     Is  gun g 

®- 

iiiig 

1 

Liu 

»L 

3*  Eua 

II  a 

19     Kong 

«r 

ong 

2* 

I'iong 

m^ 

3*  Hioiig 

^ 

ionj: 

20     Chi 

Z 

i 

3 

Kin 

5]tK 

4     Ch'ia 

m 

iu 

21     TGng 

Si 

Gr.g 

4 

K'e' 

«K' 

5    Sang 

Ui 

ang 

22     Kau 

'i1i 

an 

5 

Ti 

UST 

6    K'ai 

m 

ai 

23*  Ku6 

M 

u6 

0 

P'O 

JgP- 

7    Ka 

m 

ii 

2-i    Se 

m 

Ci 

>- 

Ta 

fi^' 

8    Pin- 

^ 

ir,: 

2.jt  Ku.-, 

m 

U(. 

s 

Chcni, 

•«•  Ch 

9*  Huan- 

m 

ii:'.r.j 

2Ct  Kio 

ffii 

ie 

9 

Nih« 

H  1-- 

10    K6 

m 

u 

27-'=  Slang 

m 

iang 

10 

Si^ 

B*s 

lit  SQ 

m 

u 

28     Ch'oi 

m 

oi 

11 

Eng 

S', 

12=*=  Puo 

u 

lie 

29     Cl.'e 

'^ 

(; 

12 

ifung= 

13     Kn 

M 

u 

30*  T'ieng 

Ji 

icng 

13 

Ngil^ 

m^^ 

14     Teng 

m 

cvj: 

31*  Kia 

iu 

(14 

Ch'oh 

ffi  c"-' 

15*  Kuong 

* 

nonp 

32     Uui 

^. 

uai 

15 

Hi 

in 

16*  Ilui 

m 

ui 

3St  Kou 

m 

en 

17t  Sieu 

m 

ica 

Note. — Tlie  twelfth  and  sixteenth  y^riu/i  arc  regarded  by  some  teaehers  as 
having  the  same  alphabetic  sound,  (the  itiiiiiil  consonant,  of  course,  is  ex- 
cepted,) bat  most  persons  observe  the  distinction  given  in  the  table.  The  char- 
acters arranged  under  the  twenty-fifth  final  arc  pronounced  by  many  persons 
residing  within  the  walls  of  Fuh  Chau.  liko  i'.  .-o  under  the  tvroniy-third.  The 
vowel  of  the  eighth  final  is  pronounced  by  some  teachers  like  the  sound  of  i  in 
machine,  while  others  give  it  the  sound  of  i"  as  in  jnn.  The  vowel  of  the  fourteenth 
final  U  pronounced  by  some  like  e  iu  mci,  and  by  others  like  c  in  thaj.  The 
thirty-third  final  has  a  peculiarly  clear  and  ringing  sound,  and  at  once  reminds 
a  person  of  the  croak  of  a  frog. 

The  thirteenth  initial  sound  is,  in  one  instance,  used  alone  without  any  final 
or  vowel  sound  following  it.  It  is  used  only  in  the  Ecvcnth  tone,  and  merely  as 
a  negative  prcQ:c  to  other  words. 

The  primary  syllables  fi;rmcd  by  joining  each  inilial  with  all  i]xQ  finals,  will  be 
seen  in  the  foUowini;  table. 


*  Accented  on  the  second  vowel.  t  Accented  on  the  vowel  before  the  last 

\  The  eleventh  initial  denotes  mercl^r  the  absence  of  initial  sound. 


358  T7ie  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.       [July, 


K 

«^ 

tD 

a 

2 

.2 

^ 

S 

% 

^ 

S 

. 

0 

O 

5 

5 

^S 

to 
c 

to 

C3 

to 

to 

0 
'to 

s 

c 

c 

1^ 

SI 

to 
S 

e3 

to 

§ 
a 

t? 

to 

c 

p 

.2 

CO 

to 

c 

e3 

to 

§ 

03 

*3 

T3 

m 

to 

c 

3 

to 

a 
0 

s 

n 

■3 

tc 

to 

# 

5 

§ 

S 

§ 

to 

§ 

to 

c 

^ 

-^ 

-^ 

0 

to 

to 

s. 

^S 

c3 

0 

^ 


3 

=K- 

to 

5 

s 

^ 

i 

to 

n 

?i 

to 

c 

p 

to 

a 
0 

^' 

p 

2 

tp 

.2 

to  .       w 

to  to      c  to      p 

,s   I  :3   .e  I  I   ,0    :;.    §   .P   I    § 


.S      p     -o      rf      p      s 

s    a    s    s    a    s 


::i       .S         c3 


-^       --^         "rf 


f 

c 

ei 

P 

n 

a 

to 

to 

c 

.a 

ci 

P 

^ 

0 

« 

£0 

cJ       .S        p 


p       -O        ^         P 
■■|^       "C        ■&,       >1h 


5  -5 


P  P  O  P 


||J;5j3^:§J;2;a^p^=;p 

to  to  to 

«      c     .2       tx.    ..  to     §  o  ^     §     - 

o     .2     i       g     J=s      c;     .S      p     o      ^      2      3      g      D      p 
KWOccWWfi.trlWcoP^WHMa 


1856.]         The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  359 


<=i       o      .^       =«       rt       3      -»      c!      .2      .2-     o      o      .SJ      .5 


p 


3       o       :S      .^      .i:        D       iB      ,;::      .:i       3        o 

asssassasss 


<^  .«  .s 


CO      03 


•& 

fci) 

8) 

Td 

p 

n 

c 

K 

s 

to 

c 

® 

o 

o 

.pi 

a 

a 

a 

a 

to 

tiD 

tc 

^n 

c 

C 

O 

O 

a 

C3 

O 

3 

o 

:3 

'0 

P 

C 

'S 

o 

c 

a 

C 

■5 

~ 

tc 

to 

to 

to 

D 

c 

c 

3 

•o 

o 

.2 

tf 

:a) 

c3 

3 

o 

:0 

0 

^ 

rS 

2 

J 

r^ 

"7^ 

'T 

~ 

^ 

cs.ii.i4   o   >s>   .Si   .S 


<3   .-3   .::^   .::i    b   «=> 


to  to 
d   0 


■3  . 

_c 

r; 

■3 

to 

.2 

.S 

3 

n 

,M 

^ 

to 

^ 

M 

to 

^ 

,i»J 

,i<j 

0 

0 

n 

'0 

0 

g 

rt 

1 

g 

Ph 

'p> 

■p- 

P-. 

ft. 

&. 

"E, 

P, 

&■ 

C^^^yiV-^-^.^^SiSS»-S;^H<^i?^S$ 


§  ^  §  -^  S  §  '^  ^  S  :5  .5  :=  ii  --2^  ;5  3 


360  The  Chinese  Language  ajwhcn  at  Fuh  Chau.         [Julj, 

'Each  of  the  syllables  in  the  preceding  tables  is  susceptible  of 
seven  variations  of  the  tone  in  -which  it  is  enunciated.  Some  of  the 
tones  affect  the  orthography,  Avhile  others  do  not.  Under  each  word 
thus  formed  may  be  arranged  several  characters  having  independent 
significations ;  and  thus  it  happens  that  a  single  word  in  the  spoken 
language  is  made  the  symbol  to  express  a  number  of'  ideas  essen- 
tially different  from  each  other, 

Chinese  Tones. 

The  greatest  obstacle  to  the  acquisition  of  the  spoken  dialects  or 
languages  of  China,  is  the  peculiar  application  of  the  to7ics,  which 
distinguish  words  having  otherwise  the  same  orthography.  It  is 
believed  that  the  tojies  are  not  in  themselves  very  difiScult,  but  as 
they  are  absolutely  essential  to  the  spoken  language,  and  require 
constant  attention  to  nice  distinctions,  which  are  never  noticed  in 
other  languages,  they  demand  all  the  attention  the  student  can 
bestow,  to  remember  always  the  proper  tone  of  each  word,  and  to 
enunciate  it  correctly  in  speaking. 

In  English,  various  tones  or  inflections  of  the  voice  are  used  to 
give  force  and  animation  to  language;  but  in  Chinese,  the  tone  is 
an  essential  part  of  the  word  in  all  circumstances;  while  rhetorical 
effect  is  given  to  discourse  by  accentuation,  rapidity  or  slowness  of 
utterance,  and  peculiarities  of  manner,  as  well  as  varieties  of  pitch 
of  the  voice,  and  gesticulation. 

Much  '^as  been  written  in  regard  to  the  tones,  and  some  discrep- 
.noe  Avill  be  found  in  the  statements  of  different  writers,  caused, 
pnncipally,  by  the  differences  in  tones  of  the  same  name  in  the  sev- 
eral dialects  with  which  the  different  writers  were  acquainted. 

It  is  generally  believed  that  the  system  of  tones  was  invented  to 
compensate  for  the  paucity  of  syllables,  or  single  words,  in  the 
spoken  languages,  or  dialects,  of  the  numerous  kingdoms  of  Eastern 
Asia,  which  ha^■e  long  since  been  consolidated  into  the  one  vast  em- 
pire of  China. 

What  was  the  condition  of  the  spoken  languages  of  China  previous 
to  the  adoption  of  the  present  system  of  writing,  we  have  no  means 
of  learning,  except  from  the  structure  of  their  Avritten  language,  and 
their  ancient  poetry. 

The  general  rules  of  poetr}*,  derived  from  the  Confucian  classics, 
have  been  fixed  and  unchanging  for  more  than  twenty  centuries. 

In  poetical  composition  the  words  arc  arranged  in  reference  to 
their  tones,  of  which,  for  poetical  purposes,  there  are  reckoned  but 
two  classes  or  distinctions. 

The  poetical  division  of  tones  is  into  ^2^:  pi"S'^  siang,  smooth 


185C.J        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fnh  Chat/.  3G1 

tone  or  tones;  and  U\J}^  clia'  siang,  oblique,  or  harsh  tone  or 
tones ;  (for  these  terras  may  be  taken  cither  as  singular  or  plural.) 
These  being  the  only  distinctions,  in  regard  to  tone,  which  it  is 
necessary  to  observe  in  poetical  composition,  it  is  not  improbable 
that  there  were  only  two  tones  in  use  v.hen  the  ancient  classics  were 
written,  or  at  least  in  the  early  ages,  when  the  poetic  rtanJards  wcri- 
fixed. 

The  universal  study  of  the  ancient  classics,  and  the  observance 
of  the  ancient  standards  of  poetical  composition,  secure  a  pretty  gen- 
eral uniformity  in  the  division  of  the  characters  into  ping\  or  smooth. 
toned,  and  cha\  or  liarsh  toned  characters,  though  the  subordinate 
divisions  in  these  two  classes  of  tones  are  by  no  means  uniform  in 
the  difTercnt  dialects. 

The  ^Nanking,  or  court  dialect,  has  five  tones,  viz. :  two  ping^,  or 
smooth  tones,  and  three  cha'^,  or  liarsh  tones:  though  it  is  stated 
that  there  was  originally  but  one  smooth,  or  even  tone. 

The  names  which  now  distinguish  the  ping'"  tones,  vi.-^.:  J^^l^'~ 
siong-  ping^  siang,  primary  smooth  tone ;  and  "T^-p^Li^  ha~  ping^ 
Biang,  secondary  smooth,  tone,  arc  thought,  by  Chinese  v.riters,  to 
have  arisen  from  having  the  characters  arranged  under  the  ping'^ 
tone,  placed  in  two  volumes ;  the  first  volume  (as  is  customary  with 
any  work)  marked  J^  siong/,  or  first,  and  the  latter  volume  marked 
"K  ha^  or  last.  These  distinctions,  v.hich  originally  related  to  the 
volumes  of  the  book,  having  been  afterward  referred  to  a  distinction 
of  two  pir.g^  tones.  This  view  is  still  further  supported  by  the  fact 
that,  while  characters  referred  to  the  smooth  tones  in  the  court  dia- 
lect, are  also  referred  to  what  are  called  smooth  tones  in  the  several 
local  dialects,  yet  many  characters  referred  to  what  is  called  a  pri- 
mary  smooth  tone  in  one  dialect,  arc  placed  in  the  secondary  smooth 
tone  in  another  dialect,  and  vice  versa. 

The  clm>  tones,  of  which  there  vvv  thi-oe  in  the  court  dialect, 
called  Jtiii^  siong-  siang,  liigli.  lone  ;  -^^Zl'i^  k'cii^  siang.  diminish- 
ing tone ;  and  y\)|^<  ih''  siang.  entering,  or  almpt  tone,  as  they  are 
now  found  in  the  dictionaries  of  the  general  language,  or  court  dia- 
lect, arc  each  again  sub-divided,  in  many  of  the  local  dialects,  (as  the 
even  tone  has  been  in  all  dialects,)  into  primary  high,  diminishing, 
and  abrupt,  and  secondary  high,  diminishing,  and  abrupt  tones. 

When  all  the  tones  now  enumerated  are  arranged  together,  the 
Jq)'/j^  siong^  siang,  primary  tones,  arc  always  arranged  before  the 
~[^2l^  ha-  siang,  or  secondary  tones,  as  follows,  viz. : 

FouKiu  Sekies.  Vol.  V11I.-23 


362  The  Chinese  Language  spolcen  at  Fuh  Chau.         [July 

1.  __L    i^Zi'^  siong^  ping'  siang;  primary  smooth  tone. 

2.  Jq  jQtIj^  siong-  siong-  slang;  primary  liigh  tone. 

5.  p  J:^^jj^<  siong^  k'eu''  siang;  primary  diminishing  tone. 
4.     h  /\.T^f-  siong^  ih'  siang;  primary  abrupt  tone. 

6.  k2p.Vi  ha"  ping'  siang;  secondary  smooth  tone. 

6.  "~J\    j-  y'l  ha"  siong^  ^iang;  secondary  high  tone. 

7.  "T^Jl.  uiji  ha'  k'eii'  siang;  secondary  diminishing  tone. 

8.  ~1\  71  yi'x.  ha"  ih'  siang ;  secondary  abrupt  tone. 

This  translation  of  the  Chinese  names  of  the  tones,  though  not 
the  one  usually  given,  is  admitted  by  the  original,  and  gives  a  better 
idea  of  their  nature  than  a  more  literal  translation.  The  names  of 
the  tones,  as  given  above,  are  common  to  various  dialects,  but  they 
do  not  represent  the  same  qualities  of  voice,  or  sound,  in  the  differ- 
ent dialects ;  that  is,  tones  bearing  the  same  names  are  often  essen- 
tially diflerent  in  different  dialects. 

The  number  of  tones  in  actual  use,  varies  also  in  different  districts. 
In  several  dialects,  there  are  reckoned  eight  tones,  as  given  above, 
while  in  the  Fuh  Chau  dialect,  only  seven  are  in  actual  use,  and  in 
the  Tiechu  dialect  there  are  said  to  be  nine  tones.  In  the  spoken 
language  of  Canton  there  are  ten  tones,  but  in  reading,  only  eight. 
The  names  applied  to  the  tones  give  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  their 
nature,  and,  in  general,  it  would  be  as  M"ell  to  designate  them  as 
first,  second,  etc.,  tones,  as  to  employ  the  names  they  bear  in  Chi- 
nese books. 

Description  of  Tones  in  the  Fuh  Cliau  Dialect. — The  .Jirst,  or 
primary  smooth  tone,  called  siong-  ping*,  is  a  uniform  even  sound, 
enunciated  a  little  above  the  ordinary  speaking  key,  but  neither  ele- 
vated nor  depressed,  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  the 
word.  It  is,  in  tliis  respect,  like  the  enunciation  of  a  note  in  music; 
it  may,  therefore,  be  called  the  singing  tone,  or  the  musical  mono- 
tone. 

The  second,  ox  primary  high  tone,  called  siong-  siong-,  is  enunci- 
ated in  the  ordinary  speaking  key,  and  the  voice  usually  falls  a  note 
at  the  close,  as  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  in  unimpassioned  discourse. 
In  connected  discourse,  however,  the  second  tone  is  sustained,  and 
turns  upward,  like  the  vanishing  stress  of  unaccented  words  in  com- 
mon conversation.  In  attempting  to  pronounce  the  letters  a-e,  we 
notice  that  e  is  pronounced  either  a  note  higher,  or  lower,  than  a. 
So,  also,  if  wc  take  the  pains  to  listen  attentively  whon  a  alone  is 
pronounced,  we  shall  notice  that  it  has  its  ending,  or  vanishing  move- 


1856.]         The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  363 

ment,  turned  upward  one  note  :  or,  if  spoken  like  the  close  of  a  sen- 
tence, where  the  voice  falls  in  the  usual  way,  we  shall  perceive  that 
the  vanishing  movement  of  a  turns  downward  one  note.  This  is 
exactly  the  variety  of  enunciation,  distinguished  by  the  second,  or 
siong-  siong-  tone  in  this  dialect. 

The  third,  or  primary  diminisliiuir  tone,  called  siong-  k'eii^  is 
what  elocutionists  call  the  risiy^g  third,  and  is  heard  in  English  ou 
the  emphatic  word  in  a  direct  question,  as,  "Docs  it  rain?"  where 
the  voice  turns  upward,  through  the  interval  of  two  notes  of  the 
octave. 

The  fourth,  or  primary  abrupt  tone,  called  siong-  ih^  turns  the 
voice  upward  through  the  same  interval  as  the  third  tone ;  but  it 
terminates  abruptly,  as  though  the  voice  was  suddenly  interrupted 
in  an  effort  to  pronounce  a  final  h.  In  words  which,  in  other  tones, 
end  in  770-,  the  abrupt  close  of  the  fourth  tone  sounds  somewhat  like 
a  suppressed,  or  half-uttered  k,  but  the  clicking  sound  of  the  k  is 
not  heard.  If  a  person  should  attempt  to  ask  the  question,  "  Can 
you  open  the  lock  ?"  and  be  suddenly  stopped  before  enunciating 
the  final  clicking  sound  of  the  k,  he  would  give  to  the  last  word  the 
primanj  abrupt  tone. 

Thojiflh,  or  secondari/  s?nooth  tone,  called  ha^  ping\  is  a  quick, 
forcible  enunciation,  commencing  about  two  notes  above  the  ordinary 
key,  and  suddenly  dropping  down,  at  the  close,  to  the  key  note.  It 
is  what  is  called  by  elocutionists  the  falling  third,  and,  when  em- 
phatic, the  falling  ftfth.  It  is  sometimes  called  the  scolding  tone. 
It  is  heard  in  a  petulant  enunciation  of  the  emphatic  words  in  the 
sentence,  ''No  !  I'll  do  no  such  llmig!' 

The  sixth  tone  is  identical  with  the  second,  and  no  words  are 
arranged  under  it ;  that  is,  no  secondary  higJi,  or  rising  tone,  has  yet 
been  invented  in  this  dialect. 

The  seventh,  or  secondary  diminisliing  tmic,  called  ha-  k'eii^,  is  a 
guttural  downward  circumflex.  It  is,  in  English,  expressive  of  pe- 
culiar emphasis,  frequently  indicating  rebuke,  scorn,  or  contempt,  as, 

"Whence,  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  shape? 

.     .     .     Back  to  thy  punishment, 
False  fugitive." 

"You  wrong  me  every  way;  you  tcronr/  me,  Brutus.** 

The  words  veiy  many,  if  spoken  with  forcible  emphasis,  would 
also  exhibit  the  tone  under  consideration. 

This  is  probably  the  most  difficult  tone  in  the  language  to  enun- 
ciate correctly,  under  all  circumstances. 


364  The  Chi?iese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.        [July, 

The  eighth,  or  secondary  abrupt  tone,  called  ha-  ih^  closes 
abruptly,  like  the  fourth  tone,  but  diOers  fropj  it  by  being  enunci- 
ated on  a  uniform  pitch,  a  little  above  the  ordinary  key.  The  eighth 
ione  is  an  abrupt  termination  of  the  first  tone,  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  fourth  tone  is  an  abrupt  termination  of  the 'third. 

•  The  tones  affect  only  tliat  part  of  the  word  known  as  the  final, 
while  the  initial  remains  mialTccted  by  the  tone. 

.  In  the  table,  pages  3GG,  3G7,  the  finals  are  given  with  the  modifi- 
cations produced  by  the  tones.  If  each  initial  consonant  is  suc- 
cessively prcfi.Ked  to  all  the  forms  in  the  taule,  there  will  be  obtained 
all  the  separate  words,  or  distinct  syllables,  found  in  the  language. 
We  have  placed  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  initial  cng,  which  de- 
notes merely  the  absence  of  any  initial  consonant,  as  this  gives  the 
simplest  form  of  all  i\io  finals  tiu'ough  each  tone.  The  student  will 
see,  from  the  table  at  pages  308,  359,  how  each  initial  i.s  success- 
ively united  with  all  iho  finals,  and  in  the  table,  pages  3GG,  367, 
.how  each_/!/2«/,  whether  joined  to  an  initial  or  otherwise,  is  modified 
:by  the  tones.  In  the  table,  the  vowels  printed  in  italics  are  accented ; 
in  all  other  cases  the  fir.st  vowel  in  a  word  takes  the  accent.  This 
accentuation  of  the  vowels  is  uniform,  and  should  be  thoroughly 
learned  from  the  table.  The  accented  vowels  are  not  marked  in 
other  parts  of  this  article.  Besides  the  final  syllables  in  the  table, 
the  semi-vocal  ng  is  used  in  the  seventh  tone,  without  a  vowel  or 
any  other  addition.  \Vith  this  addition  there  are  sixty-one  inde- 
pendent final  syllables,  which  may  be  arranged  in  alphabetical  order. 
as  follows: 

.  a,  ae,  ach,  acng,  ah,  ai,  aih,  ainc:,  aiu,  ang,  au,  auh,  aung,  e,  c,  c,  ch,  eh, 
,eng,  eng,  eu,  eii,  ciih,  eiing,  i,  ia,  iah,  iang,  ic,  ie!),  ieng,  ieu,  ih,  ing,  ioh,  iong, 
iu,  ng,  o,  A,  oe,  oh,  oi,  c-i,  oiig,  u,  ii,  ua,  uah,  ual,  uang,  uc,  ub,  iih,  ui,  ung, 
iing,  u",  iio,  uoli,  uong. 

If  we  add  the  forms  produced  by  prefixing  the  initial  consonants, 
we  shall  obtnin  nine  hundred  and  one  syllables,  or  simple  words, 
capable  of  being  distinguished  by  the  mode  of  spelling  them  with 
Roman  letters.  Some  of  these  forms,  it  will  be  noticed,  are  pro- 
duced by  changes  in  orthography,  required  by  the  tones.  The  entire 
number  of  forms  obtained  by  all  the  changes  produced  by  the  tones, 
is  three  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty-six  words,  which  can  be 
'distinguished  by  the  car.  Some  of  these  are  distinguished  with 
difficulty,  and  (as  nearly  as  is  known)  only  one  thousand  six  hun- 
dred and  forty-four  of  t!)ese  monosyllabic  words  are  in  actual  use  in 
the  spoken  language  ;  while  in  the  Tonic  Dictionary,  or  Pailt  Ing, 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spolien  at  Fuh  Chau.  365 

only  one  tliousand  six  liundrecl  and  twenty  of  these  sounds  have 
characters  arranged  under  them. 

To  compensate  for  this  paucity  of  monosyllables,  two  or  more  are 
often  united  together,  forming  real  polysyllables,  to  express  single 
ideas.  By  this  means  the  number  of  words  is  increased  to  several 
thousands,  and,  as  regards  its  richness  and  variety  of  expression, 
this  dialect  is  but  little  inferior  to  many  alphabetic  languages. 

It  Avill  be  seen  in  the  table,  that  the  orthography  of  some  words  is 
changed,  as  they  are  declined  through  the  diSTcrent  tones.  In  rapid 
speaking,  words  in  the  third  and  seventh  tones  are  but  slightly  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  first  tone ;  and  in  such  cases  the  orthography 
reverts  toward  the  form  of  the  corresponding  word  in  the  first  tone. 
Yet  when  spoken  deliberately^  the  tones  are  readily  distinguished, 
and  the  orthography  varies  with  the  tones,  as  shown  in  the  table. 

iS'ouxs. 

Nouns,  like  other  Chinese  words,  are  incapable  of  inflexion. 
Gender,  number,  person,  and  case,  are  determined  either  by  the  ad- 
dition of  other  words,  or  by  the  position  a  word  occupies  in  the 
sentence. 

Case. — The  subject  nominative  precedes,  and  the  predicate  nom- 
inative follows  the.  verb,  as  in  Englisli.  The  accusative  case  is 
placed  after  transitive  verbs  and  prepositions,  and  is  only  distin- 
guished by  its  position  in  a  sentence.  But  in  many  instances,  the 
accusative  precedes  the  verb  in  the  imjjerative  mood,  as  chii  pong^ 
chii-ka^  book  place  book-case;  that  is,  |..hicc  the  book  in  the  book- 
case.   This  construction  is  very  common,  though  not  always  adopted. 

The  dative  and  ablative  cases  are  often  used  without  any  distin- 
guishing mark,  though  they  are  sometimes  preceded  by  a  preposition. 
The  genitive  case  of  nouns  is  formed  by  adding  ki\  his,  hers,  its,  or 
theirs,  after  the  noun,  as  sung''  ki-^  nc.ng\  ship's  men :  that  is,  sailors,  or 
boatmen;  Tungkuuh'ki''ncng^  Ctntral  kingdom's'men;  tliatis.  Chi- 
namen. The  genitive  is  often  followed  by  the  name  of  the  thing  pos- 
sessed, without  any  intervening  word,  as  sung"'  neng\  boatmen,  sailors ; 
Tiing  kuoh'  neng^,  men  of  China ;  Kuoh'-  ho-,  nation's  title,  or  national 
title.  But  in  such  cases,  the  noun  in  the  genitive  may  generally  be 
regarded  as  an  adjective,  qualifying  the  following  noun. 

Gender. — The  gender  of  nouns  is  indicated  by  words  denoting 
male  and  female,  either  directly  or'  indirectly,  as  nang.  male;  and 
nii^,  for  female.  These  are  general  terms,  applicable  to  any  living 
beings,  and  are  placed  before  the  nouns  which  they  qualify.  These 
terms  are  but  seldom  used  in  speaking;  they  belong  m.ore  properly 
to  the  written  lan^-ua^e. 


S66  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.      [July, 


pi.-g   iS^-g-s   ,al«  a   s   o-sl's 


fcO  bfv       t« 


to      O 


gUL§|.2.Sg-3c5.5§^c5§-^^ 


I   p^  g    §   J   .2    I  -s    c3   .s    I   ^    ci    §    =5    g    I   -g 


p^        1 


iiaeSiiso^  oe  ci®  .9S 


■1>4  >.«  c£  bo 

JL]    §     §     .2     .2     §    -S      ,3     .9     §     ^     o     §     3      §     §     S 


^Vc  ^^    bo  ^  60  to     o  to     a 

^   -  J_J      pp.2.t:eSc3c3.yP<'C>CiSP(»C33 

o      «      §     ..2      ^  to     S  ^  ^     §     - 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  367 


=3       .^       .:: 


:§    «    ^    g 


o       rt      .^      .2       P       cd 


60        be  tS) 

go  c      s     -o  "2 


J      ^       c  a       3      -2 


■ocjocjisO'Od 


a       60 
CI        c 


to 


=       00 


.2      to     o      ^      ra;      «      ^     ^v     Ft     i^     ■-     ■=^     -^     •--     :^     ^5     ..'5 


oQS  Tlic  Chinese  Langtnrgc  spoken  at  Fvh  Cliau.         [Julj, 

In  common  conversation,  m6\  siirnifyin^  mother,  and  kcah\  to  de- 
note the  male,  arc  employed  after  nouns,  to  distinguish  the  gender  of 
all  the  lower  a;nima]s,  including  birds  and  insects :  as  ioug'  mo^  the  fe- 
male goat ;  iong''  kcuL',  tl;c  male  goat.  For  human  beings,  nil-  ing-''  is 
used  for  woman,  in  the  most  genteel  society;  but  the  common  terms  for 
man  and  v/oman  arc  derived  from  a,  singular  eircumstanco  in  the  history 
01  thj  ancient  kingdom  of  U''-chii.  ofv.hich  Fuh  Cliau  was  the  capital. 

The  kingdom  of  U'-chii  was  subjugated  by  the  Tong^  dynasty,  and 
tradition  says,  that  all  the  men  were  destroyed,  and  that  the  women 
were  compelled  to  become  the  wives  of  their  captors,  (called  Tong'' 
men,;  vyho  immediately  occupied  the  kingdom  of  U-^-chii,  which, 
thereafter,  became  a  part  of  the  great  Chinese  empire.  In  memoiy 
of  this  circum.sta.nce,  to  ihe  present  day,'  the  women  of  Euh  Chau 
are  usually  called  Chi'i  niong\  or  Chii  niong^  neng'' ;  that  is,  Chii  ladies, 
retaining  a  part  of  their  ancient  name.  Girls  are  called  Chii  nie- 
kiang- ;  that  is,  Chii  children.  On  the  other  hand,  the  men  arc  called 
Tong^puo  neng^  or  Tong''  men.  and  boys  are  called  Tong'puo  nie- 
kiang-,  or  Tong'puo  kiang- ;  that  is,  Tong^  children.  The  shorter 
term,  Tong'puo,  is  often  used  to  signify  husband.  A  teacher,  or 
any  literary  man,  is  called  sieng  sang,  while  a  literary  lady  is  called 
sieng  sang  niong^.  There  are  also  ether  terms  descriptive  of  the 
various  human  relations,  some  of  which  are  essentially  masculine, 
and  others  essentially  feminine ;  as, 

Iluang^kiang",  foreigner.  Huang  p6\  forci.:;u  lady. 

Ho^  father.  Mil'',  mother. 

Nong^^pa\  papa.  Nong^ne",  mamma. 

Tong^puu  kiang-,  son.  Chii  nickiang",  daughter. 

Hiang  lie',  brother.  Chia^moe',  sister. 

Neng^no",  nurse. 

Hiang,  elder  brother.  Chia",  elder  sister. 

Tie^  younger  brother.  !Moe'',  youii'Tcr  sister. 

Number.— In  the  Chinese  language,  both  written  and  spoken, 
there  is  often  much  vagueness  in  regard  to  the  nuTii}>er  of  nouns. 

The  singular  can  only  be  indicated  definitely  by  being  preceded 
or  followed  by  the  numeral  for  one.  The  plural  is  denoted  by  the 
connexion  of  words  in  the  sentence,  or  by  the  addition  of  tengs  de- 
noting a  class,  or  collection  of  individuals.  Sometimes  the  plural 
is  formed  by  repeating  the  noun,  as  ni-ng^  neng\  man  by  man,  or 
men  generally. 

Classifying  IS'ouns. 
These  are  analogous  to  what  arc  called,  in  English,  collective 
nouns ;  asjlock,  drove,  herd,  pair.     These  and  many  others  of  the 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Larignage  spoken  at  Fith  Chan.  369 

same  character  are  foimd  among  the  Chinese  classifying  nouns. 
But  the  greater  part  of  the  Chinese  classifiers  (as  these  nouns  are 
commonly  called)  relate  to  individual  things,  and  become  plural  only, 
■when  preceded  by  a  numeral  greater  than  one ;  as.  a  piece  of  -^-ood ; 
a  fibre  of  silk ;  a  blade  of  grass ;  a  stalk  of  grain ;  a  kernel  of  com ; 
a  grain  of  sand;  a  head  of  cabbage;  a  sprig  of  mint;  a  leaf  of 
bread;  a  block  of  marble,  etc.  While  in  English  consp-irativcly 
few  nouns  have  classifiers  of  this  kind  nsed  -ivith  them,  both  in  the 
singular  and  plural  numbers,  in  the  Fub  Chau  Chinese  every  noun 
has  its  appropriate  classifier  attached  to  it,  in  almost  every  case 
\Nhere  it  is  preceded  by  a  numeral. 

Generally  several  nouns  have  the  same  classifier,  but  v,"hen  the 
same  vocal  sound  \?>  used  as  the  names  of  different  objects,  the  dif- 
ferent classifiers  that  arc  used  clearly  distinguish  them. 

In  the  ■v^•ritten  language  the  numeral  can  frequently  be  joined  to 
the  noun  ■'.vithout  the  classifier,  but  this  usage  is  seldom  or  never 
admissible  in  the  spoken  language. 

If  ^ve  say  in  English  iwo  piece  iner,,  as  the  Chinese  do  ^Yhen 
speaking  English  in  the  Chinese  idiom,  it  sounds  no  more  uncouth 
to  us  than  lang"  nong'^  (literally  tioo  meii)  does  to  the  Chinese,  -who 
say  lang"  ka-  ncng'^,  for  two  men,  using  the  classifier  ka-  between 
the  adjective  lang",  two,  and  the  noun  neng\  men.  The  combina- 
tions, a  flock  of  tongs,  a  drove  of  ■\^•eights,  a  kernel  of  tvrine,  a  sprig 
of  land,  TTOuld  sound  no  more  uncouth  in  English,  than  correspond- 
ing eiTors  in  the  use  of  Chinese  classifiers;  and  as  ver^'  fe^v  Chinese 
nouns  can  be  used  without  their  classifiers,  early  attention  to  the 
proper  use  of  this  class  of  words  is  of  great  importance.  Keng,  a 
day's  work,  is  used  without  a  classifier,  and  perhajis  some  others. 
The  round  numbers  for  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  ttc.,  one  hundred,  two 
hundred,  one  thousand,  one  myriad,  itc,  can  be  used  before  many 
nouns  without  classifiers ;  but  these  are  rare  exceptions  to  the  rule, 
that  Every  noun  must  be  accompanied  by  its  appropriate  classi- 
fier, vhen  taking  a  numeral  adjective  before  it. 

The  classifiers  are  called  uah'^  che',  living  Avords;  because  they 
give  life  and  precision  to  discourse.  Two  nouns,  differing  greatly 
in  signification,  though  pronounced  exactly  alike,  may  be  read- 
ily distinguished  by  the  different  classifiers  with  Avhich  they  arc 
joined  in  discourse:  as,  siiu"' kuu^  ua',  a  phrase  of  speech;  and  suo"^ 
hoh'  ua",  a  scroll  of  painting;  the  word  ua",  meaning  tliscourse  in 
one  case,  and  painting  in  the  other,  being  rendered  perfectly  defi- 
nite by  the  classifying  nouns  with  which  it  is  joined  in  the  two 
cases.  Tiu"',  plain  silk  cloth,  and  tiu"*,  a  Avardrobe,  or  cupboard,  are 
distinguished  iu  a  similar  manner,  for  we  say,  siio^  ka-  tiu-',  one  frame 


870  The  Chinese  Language  spuhen  at  Fuh  Chau.         [July, 

■wardrobe ;  but  suo^  peb*  tiii^  one  web  of  silk ;  or,  sQu^  toi''  tiu^  a  small 
piece  of  silk  goods.  It  is  thus  that  these  living  ivords  give  clear- 
ness and  precision  to  discourse.* 

CoMPOU^iD  Nouns. 

Two  or  more  words  are  often  united  to  describe  an  object  -which 
has  no  simple  name.  They  form  rc2;ular  compound  nouns,  and  are 
of  frequent  occurrence.  Kiang-,  a  cliild,  or  a  small  specimen  of  any 
object  named,  is  often  affixed  to  nouns  to  form  compounds;  as, 
nens;^  kianir-,  a  human  child;  n^ru'^  kiaup;-,  a  calf;  huano;-^  kiang-,  a 
foreign  child,  or  a  foreigner ;  chieng^  kiang-,  a  small  coin ;  ie-  kiang-, 
a  small  chair,  or  a  stool ;  sung^  kiang-,  a  boatman.  Kiang-  may  be 
joined  to  any  noun  in  the  same  manner  as  a  diminutive  suffix. 
Sa  hu^  signifies  a  leader,  and  is  a  term  often  applied  to  priests; 
but  •nhen  preceded  by  the  term  for  such  substances  as  wood, 
earth,  stone,  silver,  it  signifies  a  worker  in  those  substances ;  as, 
ngung  sa  hu-,  a  silversmith;  T'u"^  sa  hu-,  a  mason;  siio^  sa  hu^, 
a  stone-cutter;  muh^  sa  hu-,  a  worker  in  wood,  a  carpenter.  Some 
other  trades  are  designated  in  the  same  manner. 

Cho^,  to  make  or  do ;  or  pa^  to  beat  out,  or  to  fashion,  prefixed 
to  the  name  of  a  thing,  or  the  material  of  vrhich  it  is  made,  designates 
the  maker  of  those  goods,  or  the  worker  in  that  material ;  as,  cho^ 
i  siong^,  maker  of  clothing,  or  a  tailor :  pa^  t'ieh\  iron  worker,  that  is, 
a  blacksmith;  pa"  teng^,  a  coppersmith,  or  a  brass-worker;  pa^ 
ngimg^,  a  silversmith.  Sa  hu-,  affixed  to  the  above  compounds,  will 
give  the  additional  idea  of  a  master  workman  at  any  of  those  trades. 
We  have  cho^  me^  me'^,  to  work  at  buying  and  selling,  or  cho^  seng 
li",  or  cho^  seng  e',  to  be  a  trader,  or  a  merchant ;  cho^  ch'eng^  to 
work  the  fields  ;  that  is,  to  be  a  farmer ;  cho^  cheng^  kcii^  to  bear  tes- 
timony, to  be  a  witness ;  cho^  kcng  ngie",  to  be  a  mechanic  of  any 
kind;  cho^  maeng^  would  signify  a  maker  of  nets,  but  as  the  very 

^^  In  tlie  use  of  nouns  preceded  by  their  classiGcrs,  a  numeral  adjective  must 
always  precede  the  classifier.  The  numeral  sQ6',  one,  is,  in  such  circumstances, 
commonly  equivalent  to  a  or  an.  There  is  no  proper  article  in  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage; its  place  is  in  part  supplied  by  numeral  and  demonstrative  adjectives. 

Weights  and  measures,  as  classifiers,  arc  used  before  nouns  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  in  English.     In  the  Chinese  money  weights  in  common  use  at  Fuh  Chau, 
10  Lie  equal  one  Hung  =  o.loo  grains,  Troy. 
10  Hung  equal  one  Chieng  =  57. •5")  grains,  Troy. 
10  Chieng  equal  one  Liong,  or  ounce  :=  57o.5  grains,  Troy. 
16  Liong  equal  one  Kung,  or  pound  =  0208  grains,  Troy. 
100  Kung  equal  one  Tang,  or  load  =:  131.^  pounds,  Avoirdupois. 
Six  or  eight  other  weights  arc  in  use  at  Fuh  Chau,  varying  in  value  from  J5 
to  ^^  of  the  Kung,  or  pouud,  given  above. 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chaxi.  371 

same  expression  signifies  also  to  dream,  they  usually  say  pa^  raaeng^, 
for  makinrr  nets.  All  the  above  terms  formed  ^vith  cho^  to  make, 
or  pa^,  to  fashion,  often  take  after  them  the  phrase  ki^  ncn;^^  its  man  ; 
that  is,  the  man  of  whom  these  actions  are  predicated,  and  the  entire 
expression  is  used  as  a  noun,  for  merchant,  trader,  cVc. 

x\djectives. 

Adjectives  commonly  precede  the  nouns  Avhich  they  qualify ;  as, 
keng''  san2:,  a  hiiih  hill ;  uong  n^ru^,  a  yellow  ox :  7igai^  ncn'i^.  bad 
men.  The  adjective  may  also  be  placed  after  the  noun,  the  substan- 
tive verb  being  understood,  in  -which  case  the  adjective  becomes  a 
predicate.  Such  forms  are  more  common  than  in  English,  as  the 
substantive  verb  is  more  readily  understood,  and  needs  not  to  be  so 
frequently  expressed;  as,  ncng^  t?"-^^,  the  man  is  bad;  nu^  ho-,  the 
thing  is  good ;  tiio"  huong',  the  road  is  long.  In  some  such  cases  it 
is  scarcely  admissible  to  supply  the  substantive  verb  in  speaking, 
though  it  must  be  supplied  to  give  a  correct  translation  in  English. 
An  adjective  reduplicated  becomes  intensive ;  as,  ho-hu"',  very  good : 
keng^keng^  very  high;  ming'ming^,  very  plain,  clear,  or  evident; 
kuong^kuong-,  very  smooth:  kuongkuong,  very  luminous.  Difier- 
ent  qualities  are  expressed  by  ordinals ;  as,  Tc  eh^  ho-,  number  one 
good,  or  first  quality ;  Te  ne"  ho-,  number  two  good,  or  second  qual- 
ity. The  Chinese  are  extravagant  in  the  use  of  adjectives,  using 
superlatives  where  intensives  only  are  strictly  adm.issiblc.  Siong^ 
upper,  or  superior,  and  ting^  ridge,  or  summit,  are  often  thus  used. 

The  following  examples  will  show  the  method  of  comparing  ad- 
icctives :  ia-""'  kenrr^  rather  hi<ih ;  kencr^  hish ;  keno;' kencr'\  very  high. 
ku  keno;l  higher;  kah'  ken2:\  too  hi^h;  tins;^  ken2;\  highest;  ia-^  ho-, 
rather  good ;  ho-,  good ;  ho-  ho-,  very  good ;  ku  ho-,  better ;  kah^*  h6^ 
too  good,  or  remai'kably  good;  ting^  ho-,  best;  siong^  ho^  first  rate, 
best  quality ;  ia"^  pa'^,  rather  vrbite,  pretty  white;  sometimes  it  means 
very  white. 

iNia^noi^,  a  little,  or  somewhat,  aiExed  to  an  adjective,  indicates  a 
Blight  shade  of  the  quality  ;  but  this  form  is  more  commonly  used  in 
comparing  two  objects,  and  indicates  that  the  object  to  which  the  adjec- 
tive thus  modified  is  applied,  surpasses  by  a  little  the  one  AvithAvhich 
it  is  compared.  ^Vhcn  trro  things  are  compared,  they  arc  generally 
connected  by  the  conjunction  kciing",  and  the  quality  expressed  b}' 
the  comparing  adjective  belongs  to  the  thing  first  mentioned,  though 
it  is  placed  after  both  nouns ;  thus,  li'-,  keung'  \i\  ku  ho'-,  plums  than 
pears  [arc]  better;  the  same  idea  may  be  expressed  without  the 
conjunction ;  as,  li '  ku  h6=  li\  plums  [arc]  better  [than]  pears ;  though 
placed  between  the  nouns,  it  still  qualifies  the  former  noun. 


372  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Full  Chav.         [July, 

"  The  position  of  an  adjective  dccermines  its  comparison."'  When 
two  things  are  comparod,  rfe  —  ^  tong^  siio"  ch'iio*,  signifies,  longer 
by  a  foot ;  but  vrhon  one  thing  only  is  spoken  of,  the  same  expres- 
sion means,  length  one  foot;  so  also  -— /^  ^  siicV- ch'iao' tong-\ 
means,  (when  one  tiling  only  is  referred  to,)  one  foot  long;  but  if 
two  objects  are  mentioned,  the  ^arue  expression  signifies  one  foot 
1on>::or.  and  the  greater  hnvrth  h  understood  of  the  thing  first  Kcn- 
tioncd.  Tr  -^  chii^nii"^,  signifies  sons  and  daughters ;  -ndiile  y[  ^ 
nii-chii',  signifies  a  female  child;  and  in  the  written  language,  when 
these  two  are  coaibined  into  one  character,  thus,  ^^2-  it  is  read 
ho-,  and  signifies  good,  beautiful.  "J^IE  pang-chang^,  literally 
level  and  perpendicular,  signifies  in  common  conversation,  bad,  of 
inferior  quality. 

Numeral  ajjcciivcs  are  best  understood  in  connexion  with  the 
written  characters.  33oLh  the  common  and  the  business  forms  are 
given  in  the  following  table. 


Numbers. 

Characters. 

Spoken. 

Abbremted. 

Spoken. 

1 

' 

Siio',  or,  Eh\ 

1 

Eh*. 

2 

^1:=^ 

Laug',  or,  jSV. 

'( 

IsV. 

3 

■  ^^^^^ 

Sang'. 

ffl 

Sang'.   ■ 

4 

W 

So=. 

X 

Sd'.  ' 

5 

^ 

2s-o'. 

^ 

Xgo\ 

6 

fK 

Leuh\ 

^ 

Leuh*.. 

7 

-\: 

Ch-oli«. 

.X. 

Ch'eli*. 

8 

/V 

Paih'. 

JU 

Paih*. 

9 

7'^ 

Km\ 

i 

Kau^ 

10 

-?- 

Seh'. 

1+ 

Eh*  seh«. 

11 

^ 

Sell'  fch«. 

Ell*  seh«  eh*. 

12 

^ 

8oh'  ne'. 

[_^ 

Eh*  sell"  no'. 

13 

x^ 

Sch'  s;ing'. 

Eh*  sch*  sang*. 

20 

? 

No'  seh'. 

'I-!- 

Xe^  seh'. 

30 

^ 

Saiij,''  seh'. 

>ll+ 

Sang'  seh'. 

100 

i 

Su6'  paV 

\S 

Eh*  pa*. 

101 

Su6'  pa*  11  n£!;'  .-ucV. 

lol 

Eh*  pa*  ling'  su6*. 

102 

f 

Sui*"  pa*  ling'  lan^j' 

.  4"" 

Eh'  pa*  ling"  king'. 

1856.]         The  Chinese  Lan'guoge  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  373 


Numbers. 

Characters. 

Spoken. 

Abbreviated. 

Spol^en. 

1 

1— .0 

110 

Suo"  pa*  ling^  sch'  i'. 

5 

Pa*  ch*. 

_ 

in 

O 

~f- 

Su6'  pa*  lin-'  sc-h*  eh\ 

1— 1 

Pa*  cli*  siio'. 

i 

Prro 

IV  uc'. 

120 

^ 

Sui)"  pa*  ling^  no'  sch°. 

^ 

— 

1=  •' 

121 

3t 

Suo'  pa*  ne''  seli"  eh*. 

Pa*  uc'  eh*. 

W 
„*-' 

122 

Suo'  pa*  ne''  ,scli'  ne\ 

g 

Pa*  no'  lang 

]i- 

|loo 

200 

4- 

Lang''  pa*. 

^ 

1,000 

Suo"  ch'icng:. 

|c.0O 
1     0  QOO 

Eh*  ch'ienfr. 

10,000 

■^' 

Su5^  uanp;'. 

-i 

Su6°  uang'. 

21 1.  Nc'  pa*  oh*,  or,  lang^  pa*  eh^ 

220.  Nc'  pa*  ne",  or,  lang'  pa*  no''. 

122.  Pa^  ne'  lang'. 

1220.  Ch'icng  ne"  lang". 

■   1221.  Ch'icng  nc'  ne'  sch'  eh*. 

1001.  Siio"  ch'ieiig  ling\«un'. 

1202.  Siio'  ch'icng  lang'  pa*  ling^  huig'. 

12000.  Uang'  ne'.     [One]  myriad  two  [thousand]. 

In  the  use  of  the  duplicate  forms  for  one  and  two,  some  care  is 
required,  for  while  Ave  can  say  ch'  sch^  or  no"  seh^  for  ten  and  t^venty. 
we  cannot  say  siio^  pch^  lang"  sch^  neither  is  it  admissible  to  say  siio^ 
pa-^eh*,  siio^  pa'  ne",  for  one  hundred  and  ten  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty. 

The  system  of  abbreviated  numerals  used  in  bu:-ines5  tvan«act;oii> 

is  easily  made  to  represent  concrete  numbers,  as  inches,  feet,  and 

poles;  or  ounces,  pounds,  ^o,.,  with  their  decimals,  by  placn^i;  the 

.  character  dcnotin^;^  some  weight,  or  measure,  under  the  proper  figure, 

.in  the  same  manner  that  the  character  for  tens,  hundreds,  cVc.  is 

used  under  ordinary  abbreviated  characters  ;  thus, 

^^^^^   two  hundred  and  twenty-one  feet,  four  inche?,  si.\  tenths  ; 

t|^;x^    twenty-two  poles,  one  foot,  four  inches,  six  tenths;   or, 

l]^t^  J.    t^vo  thousand  two  hundred  and  fourteen  inches,  six  tenths. 

The  same  system,  serves  for  writin,:^  decimals,  as  the  character 

placed  below  the  line  determines  the  place  of  units. 


.^^  .■ 


374  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Full  Chau.         [July, 

Pronouns. 

The  words  used  to  perForm  the  ofGce  of  pronouns,  in  Chinese,  are 
varied  to  suit  the  comparative  rank  of  the  speaker  and  hearer. 

When  a-pcrson  speaks  to  an  equal,  or  -when  a  man  of  rank  speaks 
to  an  inferior,  the  proper  personal  pronoun  I^guai-  is  used;  hut  this 
is  inadmissible  in  addressing  a  superior.  Ncng^-ka,  I  or  we,  is 
commonly  used  when  speaking  to  equals;  it  is,  however,  a  circum- 
locution, but  is  in  common  use  for  the  first  person.  Xu^  [literally, 
a  scrvGJit,']  your  servant,  or,  I  your  servant,  is  used  by  persons  ad- 
dressing their  superiors,  and  generally  by  persons  desiring  to  hon- 
our those  whom  they  address.  Puong--sing,  this  body,  equivalent 
to  myself,  is  used  to  denote  the  speaker ;  it  has  no  plural.  There 
are  various  other  circumlocutions,  used  as  polite  forms  of  indicating 
the  speaker.  JS'ir,  thou,  or  you,  is  the  common  form  of  the  pronoun 
in  the  second  person.  /  [pronounced  as  in  ■macldnc\  is  used  for 
he,  she,  it,  they,  or  them.  Pronouns,  like  other  words  in  the  Chi- 
nese language,  may  be  either  singular  or  plural,  as  best  suits  the 
connexion.  Neng\  man,  is  often  appended  to  pronouns,  as  the  sign 
of  the  plural ;  as,  ]^guai--ncng\  or,  Nu^-neng,  we,  or  us ;  J^ii^-neng^^ 
you;  I-ncng-\  they. 

Ki^  the  sign  of  the  genitive  case,  may  be  placed  after  any  of  the 
pronouns,  in  the  same  manner  that  it  is  used  after  nouns.  For  the 
possessive  case  of  pronouns,  other  form.s  are  often  used;  thus,  long"' 
chong.  your  father;  leng''  tong\  your  mother ;  long"  hing,  your  elder 
brother;  leng'  tie",  your  younger  brother;  leng"^  chiang,  your  wife; 
leng^  ch'ing,  your  relations ;  long''  long'',  your  son ;  Icng'  ch'ieng  king^ 
your  daughter.  Long'',  in  all  these  examples,  signifies  good,  or  ex-  . 
cellent,  and  is  used  for  tjour  as  a  very  respectful  and  dignified  ad- 
dress. The  words  for  father,  mother,  &c.,  with  which  it  is  joined, 
arc  also  titles  of  respect  and  honour,  and  not  literal  translations  of 
our  terms ;  yet  one  vdio  fails  to  use  them  will  often  appear  unedu- 
cated. 

In  the  same  manner  they  say,  A-a  ho',  my  father;  /ca  rau-,  my 
mother ;  ka  hing,  my  elder  brother.  Ka,  in  these  expressions,  sig- 
nifies one's  orcn  famihj,  or,  perhaps,  the  family.  "When  other  rela- 
tions arc  spoken  of,  another  terra  is  used ;  as,  chieng"  noi",  my  wife ; 
(literally,  the  unpretending,  secluded  one.')  This  accords  with  the 
Chinese  custom  of  speaking  in  humble  terms  of  one's  self,  or  what 
is  one's  own,  and  of  praising  that  belonging  to  another. 

Sia^  te",  my  younger  brother ;  sia^  ch'ing,  ray  relations ;  pe^  iv?,  my 
friend ;  pe'^  ngleh*  sii,  my  teacher :  pe''  muong^  tu'',  my  pupils ;  pe^  huo-, 
my  agent;  pe'^  siong"',  my  master;  sieu-  i^,  my  boy;  sieu^  nil-,  my 


185G.]        The  Chinese  Language  spolcn  at  Fuh  Chaii.  375 

daughter;  sieu-  k'ai^,  my  slave.  Sieu-  means,  literally,  the  little,  or 
inferior  one.  Koi^,  signifying  honourchJc,  is  used  fur  your,  on  the 
ground  that  ^That  is  said  to  be  honourable,  is  of  course  understood 
to  belong  to  the  person  addressed,  rather  than  to  the  speaker.  Koi' 
k'ai^  your  slave;  koi^  siong\  your  master,  or  superior^  koi^  huo-, 
your  agent;  koi^  tung,  your  employer;  koi^  ka,  your  noble  family; 
koi^  iu",  your  noble  friend ;  koi''  kuoh^,  your  honourable  country ;  koi^ 
seno-^  your  surname.  In  all  these  examples  honour  is  conferred 
upon  the  person  addressed  by  applying  an  honourable  epithet  to 
^•hat  belongs  to  him. 

When  speaking  of  brutes  or  inanimate  objects,  the  simple  posses- 
sive pronouns  are  generally  used. 

The  Interrogatives  are,  sie"  n6^  -what?  -^hich?  sie'  no^  ncng^ 
what  man?  who?  tie''  ne  ncng\  who?  or,  man  from  what  place? 
tie''  siio^  chia*,  which  one?  This  expression  is  varied  by  using, 
instead  of  the  last  word  chia^,  the  classifier  which  corresponds  with 
the  particular  thing  in  reference  to  which  the  inquiry  is  made. 

The  Demonstratives  are,  chi-,  or  chia-,  this;  hi^  or  hia^,  that. 
Chia^is  also  often  used  as  nearly  equivalent  to  tliat.  Ch?/i\  or  in 
full,  chia-  kuai^,  this  jilace,  is  often  used  adjectively  for  tJiis.  H^^i^ 
or  hia-  kuai\  is  also  used  for  the  demonstrative  that. 

Who,  Avhich,  and  what,  when  used  as  relative  pronouns,  have  no 
proper  equivalent  in  this  dialect  of  the  Chinese  language.  Their 
place  is  supplied  by  demonstratives,  followed  by  the  nouns  them- 
selves. 

Verbs. 

The  variations  of  the  verb  are  not  as  numerous,  or  as  precise  in 
their  meaning,  as  in  most  other  languages.  The  various  forms  of 
pa^  to  strike,  will  illustrate  the  peculiarities  of  the  Chinese  verb  in 
the  Fuh  Chau  dialect. 

I. — Indicative  Mood.  1.  General  tense.  Nguai- pa^  1  strike. 
This  form  may  denote  either  past,  present,  or  future  time,  which 
may  be  determined,  with  more  or  less  certainty,  by  the  connexion  in 
which  it  is  used. 

2.  Present  tense,  definite;  as,  Nguai-  le^  pa^  I  am  striking. 

3.  Perfect  tense.  This  tense  denotes  that  an  action  or  event  is 
already  completed.  With  transitive  verbs,  in  this  tense,  the  accusa- 
tive follows  the  principal  verb,  and  hur',  finished,  follows  the  accusa- 
tive, to  denote  the  completion  of  the  action ;  as,  I^'guai-  pa*^  i  lau-'",  I 
have  struck  him. 

In  case  of  intransitive  verbs,  k'6\  departed,  or,  li^  to  come,  is 
often  inserted  between  the  principal  verb  and  the  auxiliary  lau*, 


376  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Full  Chan.        [July, 

Aviiicli  denotes  the  completion  of  the  action ;  as,  Muong^  kui^  k'6^ 
lau-',  the  door  is  opened  already;  Muong^  kuong  li^^  Ian'',  the  door  is 
shut  to. 

4.  Future  indefinite.     Nguai-  chiong  pa^,  I  shall  strike. 

5.  rutin;e  definite.     JMguai-  chcu"  puu^  pa^,  I  at  once  ^vill  strike. 
The  follov.ing  form  is  nearly  intermediate  between  the  tvro  prece- 
ding, namely.  jN'guai^  chiong  puo^  pa'^,  I  am  about  to  strike. 

11. — Subjunctive  Mood.  The  subjunctive  is  formed  from  the  in- 
dicative, by  placing  ioh^-sa-,  ka-sii^,  or  ko-pe",  signifying  if,  or, 
supposing  fliut,  before  the  nominative  to  the  verb;  as,  ioh^'-sii"  ISguai^ 
pa**,  if  1  strike,  i.'cc. 

111. — Potential  Mood.  Nguai-  e"  pa*,  I  may,  or  can  strike ;  ]Sguai' 
tiio'^  pa^,  I  must  strike ;  Nguai'-  kai-tong  pa^,  I  ought  to  strike ;  Nguai- 
oi''  pa^  I  wish  to  strike. 

lY. — Imperative  Mood.  Nil-  pa^  strike  thou ;  Kii-  k'6"'  pa^  pro- 
ceed thou  to  strike;  ]Sii-  tuo-  pa"*,  do  you  strike  at  once. 

V. — Inpnitive  Jiood.  Pa",  to  strike ;  Ing  kai  pa'',  it  is  proper  to 
strike ;  Le-  pa'*,  to  be  atriking ;  Pa^  lau'',  to  have  struck ;  Chiong  puo- 
pa^  about  to  strike. 

Yl.— Participles.  Lc-  pa^,  striking;  Pa^  lau^,  struck,  or,  having 
struck. 

Passivk  A^oice. 

In  the  spoken  language  of  Fuh  Chau  there  is  no  proper  passive 
form  of  verbs.  Kicng'',  to  see,  or  experience,  placed  before  the  A-erb, 
and  after  the  auxiliary,  if  there  is  one,  is  sometimes  used  to  form 
the  passive  voice,  but  it  is  seldom  heard  in  conversation,  and  more 
properly  belongs  to  the  written  language.  It  is  even  doubtful 
■\vhether  this  form  is  understood  b}^  any  except  the  educated,  who 
have  learned  it  in  books.  Sieu,  to  receive,  or  suffer,  is  more  fre- 
quently used  before  the  verb  to  denote  action  endured  bv  the  noun 
which  precedes  the  verb.  Both  tiiese  forms  may  'be  used  without 
naming  the  person  or  thing  by  Avhich  the  action  is  performed.  When 
either  of  these  words  is  used  before  an  active  verb  to  give  it  a  pas- 
sive signification,  it  becomes  the  ])rincipal  verb,  and  the  words  de- 
noting the  action  or  suffering  received  or  endured,  become  verbal 
nouns  in  the  accusative  case. 

There  is  another  form  sometime.^?  used,  namely,  Nguai-  keiih^  i  paS 
1  pcruiif ted  hiui  to  strike ;  that  is,  I  was  struck  by  him.  In  some  few 
cases  tiiis  form  has  acquired,  by  usage,  somtthing  like  a  passive  sig- 
nification ;  as,  Nguai-  kciih'  lo-tia  pa*",  I  sutTercd  the  cfliccr  to  strike; 
that  is,  I  have  been  beaten  by  the  oflicer.  In  this  form  it  is  always 
necessary  to  mention  the  person  or  tiling  by  which  the  action  has 


1856.]         The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fvh  Chan.  377 

been  performed.  This  form  is  to  be  carefully  distinguished  from 
another  -^hich  closely  resembles  it,  but  has  a  very  dificront  signifi- 
cation ;  as,  l^giiai-  keiicg'  16-tia  pa^  I  with  the  olllccrs  fought,  or,  1 
struck  the  ofliccr?. 

By  these  and  other  circupalocutions,  the  ideas  of  the  passive  voice 
can  be  tolerably  well  expressed,  but  they  often  appear  very  harsh. 
The  awkwardness  of  these  crcpressions  is  most  apparent  when  it  i.s 
desirable  to  give  an  exact  colloquial  translation,  ratlier  than  a  para- 
phrase, of  portions  of  Scripture. 


List  of  Yeebs. 

AiV,  to  press. 

Ang,  to  touch,  to  rest. 

Ang'',  to  solder,  to  cement 

Chia,  to  sliade. 

Cliic',  to  sacrifice. 

Cho',  to  make. 

Cl^ah^  to  chop. 

Cho'  hua^  to  create. 

Ch'Iang-,  to  invite. 

Chu,  to  rent. 

Ch'oh^  to  go  forth. 

Ch'eli^  to  mortise. 

Eng',  to  reply. 

Eng',  to  stamp,  to  seal,  to  print. 

Eng'  sing,  Ening,  or,  Eng'  ing,  to 

consent. 
Hai',  to  injure. 
Heng,  to  roast,  to  bake. 
Helih*,  to  be  tired, 
Ilieng',  to  hate. 

Ho^  chui"',  to  sprinkle  with  water. 
Ilicu''  till*,  to  inulcrstand. 
Hung,  to  seal  up. 
Hung  ho\  to  direct 
liui^  paung'',  to  defame. 
Ka%  to  teach. 
Ka%tobi!c. 

Ka'  hong',  to  teach  [morals]. 
Ku'  t'/,  to  preach. 
K'ang'',  to  see. 
Kang''  kieng',  to  «ef% 
K'ang-,  to  lo[)  t<rt'. 
KargMong',  to  be  inspired. 
Kaing\  to  cover. 
(Kaiu\  a  cover.) 

Fouu'ju  bEiiiEs.  Vol.  VUI.— 24 


K'aiV,  to  crowd.  •    ' 

K'aiu',  to  button. 

K'aung^,  to  conceal. 

K'aung^  to  sleep. 

Ke',  to  record,  to  remember. 

Kg',  to  unfold. 

Keng'^,  to  select. 

Keng^  to  honour. 

Keng^  to  lead. 

Keu'-',  to  save. 

Keu^  to  call. 

Keii^  to  saw. 

Keiih^  to  permit. 

Kiang,  to  fear. 

]Ciang%  to  walk. 

K'i",  to  begin,  to  build,  to  set  up. 

K'i''  I!'*,  to  get  up. 

K'ie',  to  stand. 

Kiu',  to  shrivel. 

Kong,  to  carry. 

Kong"",  to  speak. 

Ko'^  hung',  or,  Kc/  taung",  to 

gurgle. 
K'6',  to  depart. 
Ko**  Icng*,  to  jiity. 
Lae',  to  rub,  to  file,  to  polish. 
Li',  to  come. 
L6°,  to  descend. 
L^P,  to  bore. 

Mai,  to  carry  on  the  back. 
Mai  chaung,  to  bury. 
Mc',  to  buy. 
Mi;',  to  sell. 
Mcng',  to  command. 
Mual,  to  erind. 


378 


The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.         [July, 


Muh",  to  heal. 

Muong'',  to  inquire. 

Muo,  to  touch,  to  stroke. 

Neng\  to  nurse. 

Ncng".  to  recognise. 

Neng  king,  to  repeat  prayers. 

Ke,  to  smear. 

O',  there  is,  to  have. 

0\  to  learn. 

Pa,  to  manufacture. 

Pa^  to  strike. 

Peh*,  to  pull. 

Pual,  to  split. 

Pua^  td,  to  stumble. 

Pau,  to  envelope. 

Sia',  to  eat. 

Sia  che',  to  write. 

Sai,  to  use. 

Sd,  to  -wash. 


Se  le',  to  baptize. 

Sieu,  to  burn. 

Sieu,  to  receive. 

Sing,  to  search. 

Sing  puang,  to  judge. 

Suo",  to  cut  in  pieces. 

Seng,  to  put  on  [clothes  ] 

Tang,  to  row. 

Tang,  to  carry  burdens. 

T'aung'',  to  put  of!"  [clothes.] 

Teng',  to  sew,  to  nail. 

T'lang',  to  ache. 

T'iang^,  to  love. 

T'ieu\  to  jump. 

T  iang,  to  listen. 

Toi,  to  plane. 

Toi^  ua',  to  answer. 

T'ui",  to  hammer. 

Uoh*.  to  water. 


Adverbs. 

Adverbs  are  compared  in  the  same  manner  as  adjectives.  They 
are  in  the  same  manner  rendered  intensive  by  reduplication;  as, 
k'e^  k'c^  very  quick;  maing'  maing'',  very  slowly.  This  latter 
expression  often  means  hereafter,  or  icait  a  little.  Ng''  is  a  nega- 
tive prefix,  which  may  be  joined  either  to  adjectives  or  adverbs. 

The  following  are  adverbs  in  common  use,  namely: 


Hieng"  chai',  now, 

Moe',  not  yet 

Po%  again. 

K'i^  seng,  formerly. 

Cha^  early. 

Chia"  si'  haiu'.  at  this  time. 

Ilia'  si^  haiu",  at,  that  time. 

Na*",  only,  simply. 

Md'  tang  tong,  impos.sible. 

Keiing',  near. 

Huong',  distant. 


H6^  well. 

Chiang' so',  truly,  yea. 

Ng'  sc',  not  so. 

Chiong  uang',  thus. 

Chia^  iong\  after  this  fashion. 

Cha  poh^  t'V,  about  so,  or,  not  much 

ditlijrent.     ' 
Chia*  chia*,  just  now  (past.) 
Cha"  ki,  early  in  the  morning. 
Mo'  ta'  king^,  no  matter. 
Tang,  now,  to-day. 


Adverbial  Phrase- 


King  nieng*,  this  year. 

K'u'  nieng\  last  year. 

Nicng'  t'au\  fu  st  of  the  year. 

S(V  nieng\  year  before  last. 

No'  au'  nieng"',  three  years  hence. 

Nguoh*  nguoh',  monthly. 


Mang'  nieng',  next  year. 
Nieng'  nieng',  yearly. 
Nieng^  muc^  the  last  of  the  year. 
Au'  nieng',  year  after  nc.\t. 
No'  so*  nieng*,  three  years  ago. 
Chia'  nguoh',  this  month. 


1856.]        The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.  379 

Puang  ka*  nguoh*,  half  a  month.  Su6°  ka"  iiguoh",  one  month. 

Siorig''  nguoh",  last  month.   '  A'  nguoh",  next  month. 

Seng  kui"  ka'  nguoh',   several   montlis  TP  kur  ka"  nguoh'',  several   months 

ago.  hence. 

Chiang'  nguoh',  first  month  of  the  year.  Sang'  sch'  mang*  pu5,  new  year's  eve. 

Nih*  nih',  daily.  King  tang^,  to-day. 

Ming-'  tang',  or,  ming^  nih',  to-morrow.  So'  mang\  yesterday. 

S<V  nl!r,  dny  bel'bre  yesterday.  Au'  nih',  day  after  to-morrow. 

No'  au'  nih\  three  days  hence.  No'  so"  nih'',  three  days  ago. 

Puo,  night,  or  evening,  affixed  to  either  of  the  expressions  de- 
noting days,  signifies  the  evening  of  that  day ;  as,  king  puo,  (nih* 
being  omitted,)  this  evening;  so^mang'"^  puo,  last  evening. 

Connectives. 
But  few  connecting  particles  are  used  in  the  dialect  spoken  at 
Fuh  Chau,  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  Chinese  langunge  generally. 

Conjunctions. 
Keiing"',  and;  ling^  also;  heiihS  or  heiih'-ti,  or,  either;  ka  su^ 
or  ioh^  sii^,  if;   ko^  pe^,  supposing  that;  ing  oi'',  because;  ku  chij, 
therefore. 

Prepositions. 
Meng3-seng\  before;    a''-lau-,  behind;    ke-tcng-,  above;   a*-t^^ 
below;  tie--tie',  within;  ngic  lau-,  without,  outside. 

Interjections. 
Ho^!   Well!  It  is  well!     Ai-ia^!  an  expression  of  wonder,  or 
surprise;  this  expression  is  also  used  in  a  drawling  tone,  denoting 
excessive  errief     Eii'' !  So-ho  !  Ho  there!  used  to  call  the  attention 

o 

of  persons  standing  near.     0''!  0^!  expressive  of  sudden  pain. 

Versification.* 

The  written  language  governs  the  style  of  poetry.  The  most  an- 
cient Chinese  poetry  was  irregular,  composed  of  an  even  number  of 
lines,  consisting  of  a  nearly  uniform  number  of  monosyllabic  words 
in  a  line,  subject  to  rules  of  rhyme  and  alliteration ;  that  is  to  say,  to 
periodic  return  and  cadence  of  certain  articulations  and  terminations. 
Short  pieces  of  this  measured  prose  make  up  the  Chu  King,  or  Book 
of  Records,  and  some  other  ancient  books  of  the  same  class.  The 
style  of  long  poems,  such  as  the  Panegyric  o^.^^^ukden.  is  very  similar. 
Chinese  poetry  has  advanced  by  degrees  to  the  condition  in  which 

"^  Tlic  rules  of  Chinese  versification  have  been  trao.slated  from  the  CUiacse 
Grammar  of  Abel  Remusat.     Paris:  A.  D.  1S22. 


380  The  Chinese  Language  spoken  at  Fuh  Chau.        [July, 

it  is  seen  in  at  present.  Modern  poetry  commonly  consists  of  either 
five  or  seven  words  in  a  line.  Of  these  two  kinds,  that  of  seven  syl- 
lables (words)  in  a  line  is  the  more  common.  There  are  also  verses 
of  three,  four,  si.\-,  and  nine  vrords,  or  syllables,  in  a  line ;  but  the  or- 
dinary poetry  is  written  in  measures  of  either  five  or  seven  syllables. 

lu  poetry  there  are  recognised  only  two  distinctions  of  tone,  namely, 
the  2p  ping,  or  smooth,  and  the  J^  cha%  or  harsh  tones.  The 
latter  comprehends  the  J^  siong^,  or  rising,  the  .^  k'eii^,  or  van- 
ishing, and  the  y/^  i^^^  or  abrupt  tones,  these  being  all  considered 
harsh  tones. 

In  verses  of  five  words  (syllables)  no  attention  is  paid  to  the 
tones  of  the  first  and  third.  The  second  and  fourth  ought  to  alter- 
nate ;  that  is,  if  the  second  is  a  ping  tone,  the  fourth  ought  to  be 
cha\  and  vice  versa.  The  second  and  third  lines  ought  to  be  the 
reverse  of  the  first,  and,  by  consequence,  the  fourth  verse  resembles 
the  first.  In  verses  of  seven  syllables,  the  tones  of  the  first,  third, 
and  filVa  may  be  selected  at  pleasure.  The  tones  of  the  second  and 
fourth  words  should  alternate,  and  the  si.Kth  should  correspond  with 
the  second.  In  verses  of  five,  and  also  of  seven  syllables,  the  stan- 
zas, consisting  of  four  lines  each,  require  three  of  the  lines  to  termi- 
nate alike  both  in  rhyme  and  tone,  or  accent.  Usually  the  ending 
of  the  third  line  does  not  rhyme  with  the  others,  and  frequently  they 
dispense  with  the  rhyme  altogether. 

The  structure  of  Chinese  poetry  may  be  illustrated  by  diagrams, 
using  the  open  circle  to  represent  snioo.'li  tones,  the    ^-  -.^-^y-^^^ 
shaded  circle  for  haish  tones,  and  the  circle  with  one   y<^V.<  >^0 
lialf  only  shaded,  to  represent  syllables  which  may  \^J ..  J\ 
be  smooth  or  hajsh  at  pleasure.  C->VjlvC 

In  this  example  the  left  hand  cohnnu  represents   (^^)(~^(   )\  ,'S 
the  first  line,  having  the  second  syllable  a  smooth    .- ~^ /^A^T^r^i 
tone,  and  the  fourtlW/a^rs//.     The  sccund  syllable  of  ><  '^'''\X 
the  second  line  is  harsh,  and  the  fourth  smooth,  and    v_y  ^ 
80  on.  C_y\ 

In  the  following  example,  the  second  syllable  of  the  first  line  is 
haisJi,  and  the  fourth  smooth,  and  so  on.     This  ex-    /T^, 
ample  is  the  inversion  of  the  first.  /^)^ 

It  is  thus  admissible  to  choose  at  pleasure  the   V<^^^><^^;^ 
.tone  of  the  governing  syllable,  (the  second  of  the   U^Viyy^vly 
first  lino.)  but  when  that  is  chosen,  ihe  whole  stan-   CywV 
za  must  be  made  to  correspond  to  the  peculiar  form   (-^ 
which  agrees  with  it;   in  the  same  manner  as  in   /"S  ., 

music,  the  whole  tune  must  preserve  a  certain  rela-  /^Va)^/^ 
tion  to  the  key  note.     In  some  poems  of  five  s^^lla-    V.JOvJv..^' 


1856.]  Dante.  381 

bles  in  a  measure,  the  third  of  the  first  line  is  the  governing  -word; 
and  the  fifth  sometimes  holds  the  same  relation  in  verses  of  seven 
syllables.  This  key  word  in  Chinese  poetry  is  the  object  of  par- 
ticular attention.  It  must  not  be  a  mere  particle,  but  a  i^-ord  ex- 
pressing some  prominent  idea  in  the  sentence.  It  may  rhyme  viiih 
the  key  vrord  in  the  follo^Ying  line,  or  it  may  alternate  -with  it,  ac- 
cording to  the  rule  which  is  chosen  in  the  poem.  These  different 
kinds  of  verses  are  variously  combined,  makiug  as  many  as  forty 
different  poetical  metres.  There  are  six  different  metres  in  ancient 
poetry.  The  style  of  these  poems  is,  in  general,  elevated,  concise, 
full  of  allegorical,'  and  metaphorical  expressions,  of  words  that  are 
antique  and  little  used,  and  references  to  events  of  history,  deeds, 
usages,  and  opinions  little  known.  This  is  what  renders  Chinese 
poetry  so  very  difficult  to  be  appreciated  or  described  by  Western 
scholars. 

The  great  difference  between  the  smooth  and  harsh  tones,  which 
are  variable  in  different  stanzas  of  Chinese  poetry,  some  of  Avhich 
can  be  scarcely,  if  at  all,  enunciated  in  singing,  renders  it  almost 
impossible  to  sing  Chinese  poetry  with  Western  music,  and  a  tune 
which  was  adapted  to  one  stanza  would  not  be  appropriate  for  the 
next,  though  agreeing  with  it  in  the  number  and  metrical  arrange- 
ment of  its  syllables. 

In  the  written  language  there  are  so  many  synonymous  characters 
differing  in  pronunciation  and  tone,  that  there  is  little  difficulty  in 
adapting  them  to  the  strict  rules  of  Chinese  poetry.  In  the  spoken 
language,  however,  the  number,  tones,  and  arrangement  of  words  in 
a  sentence,  is  so  inflexible,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  compose 
poetic  measures  in  the  spoken  language.  The  po{)ular  songs  of  the 
empire,  and  hymns  composed  for  Christian  worship,  are  only  ap- 
proximations to  the  style  of  the  spoken  language,  and,  consequently, 
are  but  partially  intelligible  to  the  common  people. 


AuT.  in.— DANTE. 


"  Dante  <t  Ics  Origines  de  la  Literature  Jtalienne.'-     Par  .>f.  ForRiEL.     2  Yolamcs. 
Paris:  DuranJ,  Libraire.     .New-York:  Hector  r>Oi:-,.'\nge  ct  Fils. 

The  French  seem  fast  repairing  their  long  neglect  of  Dante.  For 
four  centuries  his  great  poem  remained  scarce  known  beyond  the 
title,  not  only  to  the  multitude,  but  oven  to  the  learned.  There 
were,  however,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  some  one  or  two  trans- 


882  Dante.  [July, 

lations,  or  rather  parodies,  -which  perhaps  protracted  the  ncf^lect; 
but  they  could  not  travesty  the  grim  features  and  garish  horrors 
of  the  inferno;  and  so  this  portion  Tvas  thenceforward  somewhat 
valued,  because  understood.  The  author  was  admitted  to  have 
succeeded  at  the  outset;  but  was  pronounced  to  have,  like  Milton, 
become  heavy  as  he  advanced.  The  estimate  was  scarcely  dif- 
ferent at  bottom  in  other  countries.  The  poet's  name  might  be 
more  popular  in  England  and  even  Germany;  but  what  was  here 
admired  in  Dante  was  not  the  poetry,  but  the  politics,  hi-s  supposed 
hatred  of  the  papacy,*  or  his  adhesion  to  the  Germanic  empire. 
Anything  else  was  but  a  mere  echo  of  the  enthusiasm  of  Italy. 

This  enthusiasm  too,  wo  suspect,  was  not  first  excited  by  the 
poetry.  No  doubt  the  visions  represented  should,  from  their  analo- 
gy to  current  belief,  be  deemed  to  have  made  deep  impression  on 
the  popular  imagination.  Jjut  it  is  also  to  be  remembered,  that 
horrific  visions  of  the  future  world  were,  about  this  time,  become 
quite  frequent  in  most  of  the  monasteries  of  the  continent,  and  that 
the  popular  imagination  becomes  soon  familiar  with  even  the  terri- 
ble, to  the  extent  of  not  distinguishing  the  tints  of  Dante  from  a 
monkish  daub.  It  is  accordingly  a  fact  of  history,  that  for  a  cen- 
tury after  publication,  and  during  over  a  dozen  editions,  the  poem 
was  read  among  the  higher  classes.  Its  main  interest  to  these  read- 
ers was  political,  only  historical.  Most  of  the  personages  located  in 
the  three  regions  of  the  dead  were  either  parties  still  alive  or  who 
had  recently  died,  and  all  were  connected  with  the  highest  families 
of  Italy  and  Europe.  At  a  period,  too,  when  faction  raged  with 
demonlike  animosity,  when  every  man  and  woman  must  be  a  parti- 
san to  the  knife,  this-  poetic  distribution  of  compensation  and  of 
punishment  must  have  been  grateful,  as  a  consolation  to  the  de- 
feated or  the  unavenged.  To  the  triumphant  its  vain  portraitures 
would  also  have  the  piquancy,  the  satire,  and  tlie  scandal  of  a 
scurrilous  party  newspaper.  In  short,  it  would  be- viewed  much  as 
the  fierce  political  comedies  of  Aristophanes,  in  similar  times,  at 
Athens,  were  viewed.  And,  by  the  way,  this  plain  analogy  appears 
to  us  to  be  the  origin  of  the  apparently  eccentric  title  assigned  by 
Dante  to  his  poem,  and  on  which  the  commentators  have,  for 
centuries,  been  losing  themselves  in  conjectures,  without  once  falling 
upon  the  conjecture  which  is  thus  submitted  as  the  true  one.  for 
the  epithet  divine  cannot  be  urged  as  qualifying  the  term  corncdij ; 
it  was  not  till  a  century  later  that  it  has  been  added  by  the  public, 
as  a  tribute  of  admiration,  much  as  was  likewise  paid  to  Plato. 

*  It  was  on  this  notion  that  Father  Ilardouin,  of  paradoiical  celebrity,  main- 
tained the  poem  to  be  the  forgery  of  some  insidious  Wiclifite. 


1856.]  Dante.  883 

About  this  distance  of  a  century,  it  was,  in  fact,  that  the  Divine 
Comedy  attained  to  f^eneral  and  to  intelligent  appreciation  in  Italy. 
This  Avas  manifested  in  an  emphatic  and  even  singular  fashion. 
Chairs  of  criticism  \\-ere  established  in  the  universities  and  chief 
cities,  expressly  for  the  exposition  of  the  lore  and  beauties  of  the 
great  poet.  Eoccaccio,  himself  a  man  of  eminent  genius,  was  among 
the  earliest  to  lend  his  talents  to  this  patriotic  and  poetic  task,  and 
contributed  partieuhiriy  to  the  growing  repute  of  Daute.  This  repu- 
tation was,  in  fine,  exalted  to  the  singular  degree,  that  the  very 
churches  were,  on  festival  days,  surrenderc-d  by  the  clergy  to  public 
lecturers  on  a  poem  that  placed  some  popes  in  the  infernal  regions. 
It  is  this  species  of  veneration,  we  may  remark,  that  explains  also 
another  fact  that  still  continues  to  astonish  the  critics..  How,  they 
ask  themselves,  with  all  this  rapturous  admiration  of  Dante,  has  he 
been  never  taken  as  a  model  of  style  or  subject  by  the  Italians, 
whereas  Petrarch,  and  other  ])Octs  of  inferior  merit,  have  been 
common  patterns?  The  answer  is  in  part,  no  doubt,  that  imitation 
is  here  more  easy.  But  the  main  cause  has  been  the  sort  of  rever- 
ence which  removed  Dante  from  all  range  of  rivalr}'. 

This  admiration,  though  in  a  naturally  mitigated  form,  has  also 
passed,  in  course  of  time,  to  most  of  the  other  European  nations ; 
but  last  of  all,  perhaps,  to  the  shy,  shallow,  systematic  French 
genius.  The  oddity  and  exaggeration,  hov.cver  sublime,  of  the 
Tuscan  visionary,  shocked  the  h'rcnch  as  long  as  the  production  was 
regarded  only  in  the  light  of  art.  But  in  proportion  as  its  philo- 
sophical and  social  import  arose  to  view,  with  the  advance  of  the 
intelligence  and  civilisation  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  same 
people  must,  from  another  characteristic  of  its  genius,  be  among  the 
most  assiduous  in  the  study  of  the  Divine  Comedy. 

Accordingly,  within  this  century,  and  more  especially  of  late 
years,  there  appear  in  France,  as  commentaries,  translations,  or  dis- 
sertations, in  some  shape  connected  v.ith  Dante  and  his  poem,  no 
fewer  than  two  or  three  publications,  upon  an  average,  annually. 
The  work  before  us  is  (except  the  version  by  De  la  JMennais  *)  the 
latest,  and  appears  to  be  the  ablest  in  its  line,  upon  the  whole.  M. 
Fouriel  was  a  m.an  (for  the  publication  is  posthumous)  in  every 
"Way  adapted  for  the  task,  lie  was  di.-;tinguished  for  the  combina- 
tion— remarked  to  bo  in  all  times  rare— of  fme  critical  tact  and 
taste,  with  philological  erudition.  Acquainted  critically  with  the 
mediteval  idioms  of  Europe,  he  mounted  also  to  the  Basque  puzzle. 
and  the  Celtic  or  Erse,  and  went  back  to  even  the  Arabic  and  San- 

*  Another  versiou  Las  appeared  in  roris  at  tbc  monieut  we  -write,  bv  M.  Mcs- 
nard,  Member  of  tho  Institute. 


384  Da7iie.  [July, 

scrit ;  upon  most  of  which  he  has,  it  seems,  left  manuscript  gram- 
mars and  vocabularies.  His  authority  is,  ihercforc,  eminent  in  the 
great  questions  that  are  still  unsolved  respecting  the  transition  of 
the  ancient  Latin  ta  its  modern  dialects,  no  less  than  as  to  the 
origines  of  the  Italian  literature.  On  the  former  he  has  also  left 
an  excellent  disquisition,  with  the  discussion  of  which  we  shall  prob- 
ably re^^ale  our  readers  in  a  future  number.  This  preparation  was 
supported,  further,  by  the  indispensable  aid  of  histor;/,  at  once  polit- 
ical, religious,  and  literary.  ^Ve  shall  pay  then  some  attention 
to  a  writer  quaiiSed  so  specially,  in  his  expositions  and  explana- 
tions, not  alone  respecting  Dante,  but  also  the  other  interesting 
topics  which  the  title  indicates. 

With  the  fall,  or  rather  dissolution,  of  the  empire  of  Charlemagne — 
that  undigested  agglomeration  of  barbarian  nobles  and  civilized 
serfs — the  vast  area  of  its  territory  was  partitioned  into  petty  sov- 
ereignties, sometimes  stayed  upon  one  another,  and  known  collect- 
ively as  the  feudal  system.  The  general  plan  oi  the  divisions, 
termed  duchies,  counties,  baronies,  embraced  in  each  a  principal 
city  with  a  few  square  miles  of  territory.  Even  this  was,  some- 
times, cut  up  between  a  rural  and  a  city  sovereign,  the  latter  being 
quite  usually  a  bishop.  The  incumbents,  M.  Fouriel  says,  were 
"almost  all  of  the  Germanic  race;"'  a  condition  which  wc  thought 
to  have  prevailed  less  commonly  in  Italy.  M.  Fouriel,  however, 
comprises  the  descendants  of  the  Lombards,  although  he  owns  they 
had  become  Italian  as  well  in  manners  as  in  language.  ^Vith  this 
extension  of  the  designation,  ho  is,  probably,  quite  right ;  as  he  is, 
also,  in  remarking  the  distinction  of  the  two  races,  notwithstanding 
the  apparent  transformation  of  the  earlier  settlers.  For  it  is,  per- 
haps, that  savage  solitariness,  (it  cannot  be  called  independence,) 
which  at  first  constituted,  and  still  constitutes,  a  well-knov.n  feature 
of  the  Gothic  character,  that  has  originated  and  entailed  the  anar- 
chy which  leaver  poor  Italy  still  in  chains.  It  vras  these  turbulent 
barbarians  that,  after  ruining  the  Iloman  empire,  again  subverted 
the  sort  of  substitute  got  up  instead,  by  their  own  race,  and  then 
fell  finally,  as  has  been  said,  upon  tho  spoils  and  upon  one  another. 
The  clerical  portion  of  the  barons  were,  however,  all  Italians  :  a  con-, 
cession  of  the  conjoint  ignorance  and  superstition  of  the  conquerors. 
As  to  the  residue  of  the  population,  the  native  peasantry  were 
serfs,  and  lived  in  hamlets  or  open  villages,  extended  usually  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  upon  whose  sunnnit  Avas  perched  tho  castle  of  their 
predatory  master.  The  burghers,  who  were  freemen,  were  in  pos- 
session of  the  cities,  overhung,  however,  upon  their  part,  by  the 
towering  fortress  of  the  city  tyrant,  and  by  the  similar  enclosures 


1856.1  Dante.  385 

of  the  minor  aristocracy.  The  rude  occupants  of  those  stone  sti'ong- 
holds  AYOuld,  so  long  as  they  received  their  tribute,  take  little  notice 
of  the  peaceful  exercise,  by  the  tame  burghers,  of  those  civic  forms 
-which  survived  to  them  traditionally  from  the  Roman  municipality. 
Yet  it  -was  these  fragmentary  roots  of  the  old  stock,  that  shot  forth 
ane-v7  the  antique  spirit,  that,  in  half  a  century,  iransformed  the 
cities  into  republics. 

Thou  arose  the  popukr  raciions.  a  sort  of  tyranny  -ivor:-c  than 
feudal.  '\Vith  the  accession  of  the  population  more  or  less  predom- 
inantly to  the  government,  the  city  was  divided  into  tvro  literally 
armed  camps.  The  first  escape  from  this  predicament  was  the 
formation  of  a  third  party,  compcscd,  as  usual,  Ciuito  spontaneously 
from  the  conterminous  e.vtren-ies,  that  is  to  say,  the  poorer  of  the 
aristocracy  and  the  richer  of  the  democracy.  This  party  of  com- 
promise held  a  monopoly  of  most  of  the  governments  for  half  a 
century,  and  gave  the  people  both  prosperity-  a,nd  peace.  But  it 
-ft-as  finally  overthrown  by  the  conjoiui  frenzy  of  the  extreme  fac- 
tions, -u'ho  thus  succeeded  in  again  getting  each  other  by  the 
ears.  The  speedy  result  -was  a  more  decisive  constitution  of  the 
governments,  according  to  the  party  that  prevailed  in  the  difFerenfc 
cities,  into  what  may,  on  the  one  hand,  be  called  aristocratic  repub- 
lics, and  on  the  other,  and  the  k.-.-;  numerous,  pure  democracies. 
Of  both  divisions,  the  republics  of  Venice  and  of  I'lorence  have 
been  respectively  the  most  illustrious  as  the  most  enduring  types. 
The  duration  of  most  of  the  others  v.-as  diversely  maich  less  long. 
They  relapsed,  alihough  by  diiTorcat  routes,  into  the  original  tyran- 
nies; which  constitutes  the  third  act  of  the  evolution. 

In  the  cities  ruled  by  aristocracies,  it  was  the  strife  for  the  chief 
magistracy  that  occasioned  the  establishment  of  tyrannies.  Men  of 
passion  will  always  rather  choos3  the  equality  of  being  all  excluded 
e.xcepting  one,  to  whose  good  fortune  they  cannot  cliarge  themselves 
with  longer  contributing,  than  co  endure  the  possibility  oi"  being 
subjected  to  one  another.  In  the  democracies,  whose  pride  or  spirit 
is  very  fortunately  loss  exnlted,  the  revolution  was  brought  about, 
not  by  a  strife  for  power,  but  through  a  lack  of  justice.  And  this 
particular  is  too  instructive  not  to  command  an  explanation. 

Originally  the  Cr^t  magistnite  of  the  freed  cities  was  termed 
consul ;  a  characteristic  commemoration  of  the  antique  origin  we 
have  assigned  them.  The  coniul  was  srlcctcd  uuilormly,  though  by 
mere  voluntary  usage,  from  the  class  of  the  patricians,  even  by  the 
people  themselves;  a  fact  on  which  our  author  dwells,  to  show  the 
motieration  of  democracies.  But  he  omits  from  the  account,  we 
fear,  the  burt^ess  diffidence  of  those  dark  ages,  and  the  dislike  which 


386  Dante.  [July, 

men  of  humble  birth  have,  in  all  ages,  to  exalt  their  fellov,-s.  It  is 
the  counterpart  of  the  alternative  preferred  by  the  aristocrats,  in 
rather  leaving  the  decision  to  the  accident  of  birth.  Be  this,  how- 
ever, as  it  may,  the  course  was  wise  in  the  Italian  democrats;  but 
the  expedient  did  not  suffice  to  avert  the  tendency  of  things. 

The  office  of  the  consul  Avas  as  Avell  judicial  as  executive,  as  is  the 
case  in  all  primitive  governments  :  for  the  most  early,  as  wqW  as 
urgent,  of  social  requisites,  is  justice.  Eut,  as  ue  have  noted,  in 
the  furious  conflicts  of  those  half- barbarous  republics,  the  judge- 
consul  was,  like  every  other  man,  obliged  at  length  to  take  a  side. 
This  obligation  is  well  disclosed  in  a  certain  passage  of  Dante's 
Purgatory,  where  the  fierce  Ghibellinc,  whose  sad  experience  and 
sound  philosophy  should  have  corrected  him,  condemned  to  tor- 
ments some  fellow- citizens  who  had  the  prudence  to  stand  aloof. 
The  consul,  who  was  annually  to  be  elected,  could  not  long  do  this; 
be  became,  forcibly,  the  instrument  of  the  predominant  of  the  two 
factions,  the  legal  cover  for  proscription,  confiscation,  or  banish- 
ment. But  this  was  ruining  the  state  too  palpabl}^  not  to  compel  a 
change  of  course.  The  new  expedient  was  original,  and  may  seem 
curious,  although  really  natural. 

The  chief  magistrate  was,  thenceforth,  not  only  to  belong  to  nei- 
ther party,  but  he  was  not  to  bo  even  a  citizen  of  the  republic  select- 
ing him,  nor  to  have  lived  within  a  certain  distance  of  its  territory. 
Like  the  consul,  he  must  be  a  noble,  and,  besides,  of  known  integ- 
rity, with,  if  obtainable,  a  reputation  for  either  statesmanship  or 
literature.  This  prime  mngistratc,  or  supreme  judge,  whose  name 
of  office  was  podesto,  brought  in  his  train,  and  at  his  own  expense, 
not  merely  a  bbdy  guard  of  cavalry,  but  even  a  baud  of  jurisconsults 
to  conduct  the  business  of  his  court,  and  the  very  constables  or 
bailiffs  required  to  execute  its  mandates.  In  short,  he  wielded  the 
"whole  government,  and  even  the  police.  The  only  semblance  of 
limitation  was  the  annual  term  of  his  service,  aiid  a  sort  of  popular 
examination  which  he  was  submitted  to  on  leaving  office.  His  rec- 
ompense was,  on  the  other  hand,  only  honour  and  expenditure.  And 
this  cheap  service  may  be  suspected  to  have  weighed  M'ith  mercan- 
tile communities,  in  the  resort  to  an  expedient  so  extraordinary  and 
plainly  perilous.  For  some  time,  however,  the  podesta  proved  an 
improvement  on  the  state  abandoned.  But  at  last  it  drifted  with 
the  filial  current,  and  ended  everywhere  in  tyranny.  Florence  only, 
and  another  state  or  two,  where  the  mere  populace  got  fully  upper- 
most, transferred  the  government,  for  cash  down,  to  some  wealthy 
merchants,  like  the  iMcdici. 

Yet  all  this  was  a  beneficent  progression  toward  Italian  unity. 


1866.]    .  Davte.  387 

At  the  period  we  have  now  arrived  at,  that  is  to  say,  the  fifteenth 
century,  it  had  concentrated  the  scores  of  scufllin;:;  and  petty  states 
into  four  or  five,  namely:  Florence,  still  a  democratic  republic,  but 
under  the  Medici ;  the  aristocratic  republic  of  Venice ;  the  feudal 
monarchy  of  ^Naples ;  the  Papacy  ;  and  the  tyranny  of  ^lilan.  Such 
has  been  the  closest  approximation  to  Italian  unity.  The  consum- 
mation was  here  obstructed  b}'  the  unlucky  French  descent,  on  the 
pretence  of  the  inheritance  of  ISaplus  through  the  house  of  Anjou. 
This  interference  brin^^s  us  to  say  a  clo-^ini:;  word  on  the  great  con- 
test which  pervaded  and  intertwined  itself  with  the  whole  series 
of  the  foregoing  struggles ;  we  mean  the  famous  altercation  between 
the  empire  and  the  papacy. 

From  the  moment  of  the  division  of  the  Roman  empire  into  east 
and  west,  and  the  evident  precipitation  of  the  latter  toward  its  fall, 
this  leading  portion  of  the  great  legacy  of  Greek  and  Roman  civili- 
sation was  tending  naturally  to  the  spiritual  theocracy  of  the 
Papacy.  The  popes  were,  however,  not  slow  to  see  the  opportunity ; 
but  how  could  they  have  seized  it,  by  the  means  of  moral  power 
alone,  from  the  barbarian  aristocracy,  who  were  by  this  tinie  in  pos- 
session? They  had  no  other  physical  force  to  oppose  to  force,  than 
the  scrfish  multitude,  whose  impotency  in  the  circumstances  at  least 
equalled  their  superstition.  Resort  was,  therefore,  had  to  fraud  and 
to  policy.  The  Church  had  tricked  alread}'  some  subordinate  bar- 
barian sovereigns.  The  restoration  of  the  western  empire  in  the 
name  of  one  who  had  subdued  the  rest,  would  bring  the  whole,  at 
one  fell  swoop,  into  the  net  of  papal  artifice.  The  rude  emperors 
would  be  the  arm  to  keep  the  nobles  in  subjection  ;  the  subtle  popes 
would  be  the  head,  to  rule  and  regulate  the  whole  machine. 

This  new  phase  of  the  opportunity  wa.^  first  presented  in  Charle- 
magne, who  was  accordingly  brought  to  Rome,  and  received  the 
crown  of  the  C?esavs.  In  return  the  grateful  emperor  bestowed 
upon  the  popes,  or,  to  speak  canonically.  on  J^t.  Peter,  a  large  extent 
of  territory,  in  the  centre  and  with  the  capital  of  the  imperial  pos- 
sessions. Here  were  two  enormous  acquisitions  made  together. 
The  paramount  sovereignty  of  the  papacy  was  recognized,  however 
tacitly,  in  the  acceptance  by  the  b'rankish  monarch  of  the  crown 
resuscitated  by  the  pope.  There  would  have  been  no  need  of 
pressing  or  parading  this  implication,  till  the  succession  of  some 
weaker  emperors,  and  till  the  witnes.^cs  had  parsed  away.  And 
then,  accordingly,  we  hear  it  hinted  to  the  feeble  grandsons  of 
Charlemagne,  long  in  advance  of  its  cfi'ective  proclamation  by  the 
daring  Ilildebrand.  The  other  point  attained  by  the  transaction 
with  Charlemagne  was,  that  the  papacy  obtained  a  foothold  in  a 


388  Dante.  [July, 

kingtlom  of  this  world,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  form  round  itself  a 
certain  nucleus  of  physical  force,  which  would  be  useful,  upon  occa- 
sion, to  back  the  failure  of  its  spiritual  thunders.  By  this  means, 
in  fact,  alone  it  has  withstood  the  shocks  of  the  middle  ages ;  by 
this  means  it  drags  out  an  existence  to  the  present  day.  Its  fate 
were  knelled,  if  once  eradicated  from  this  real  rock  of  Peter,  to 
which,  accordingly,  it  clings,  by  instinct  of  self-preservation  as  well 
as  policy. 

The  other  portion  of  its  project  wp.s.  however,  less  successful. 
It  was  here  thwarted,  in  the  first  place,  by  the  main  divisioji  of  the 
empire  among  the  three  grandsons  of  Charlemagne,  and  further 
still,  by  the  successful  insun-ection  against  these  sovereigns  of  the 
baronial  aristocracy  in  all  directions  throughout  the  empire.  This 
event  was  the  establishment  above  alluded  to  of  the  feudal  system. 
It  completed  the  frustration  of  the  papal  viev.-s  upon  the  empire. 
It  might  be  possible  to  keep  one  sovereign,  or  two,  or  three  perhaps, 
in  leading  strings ;  but  when  these  monarchs  themselves  lost  all 
power  of  leading  their  barbarian  nobles,  the  glittering  phantom  of 
the  papal  empire  relapsed  again  into  the  pristine  chaos. 

"With  characteristic  pertinacity  the  line  of  policy  was  now  changed. 
The  freemen  of  the  cities  were  disposed  to  rise  against  the  nobles. 
To  constitute  itself  the  centre  of  this  mainly  popular  and  national 
movement,  might  subserve  the  purpose  of  the  papacy  in  one  or 
other  of  the  alternatives.  Should  it  succeed,  it  was  not  doubted 
that  the  lower  classes  -would  bo  master,  and  might  be  managed, 
tlu'ough  their  superstitions,  like  the  single  sovereign  of  the  barba- 
rians ;  and,  in  case  of  failure,  the  insurrection  would  be,  at  least, 
a  powerful  instrument  to  bring  the  emperor  of  Gcrm.any,  the  actual 
rival,  to  fresh  concessions.  With  this  profound  policy  the  papacy 
then  seconded  the  liberal  movement ;  but  catholic  writers  should 
not,  therefore,  argue  that  the  papacy  was  liberal.  It  was  the  sort 
of  liberality,  we  1:0,  as  that  which  leads  the  Russian  despot  to  assist, 
as  far  as  practicable,  at  this  moment,  the  European  radicals.  What 
proves  this  positively  is  the  fact,  that  while  the  Church  was  aiding, 
on  the  one  hand,  the  liberation  of  the  cities  from  the  dominion  of 
the  nobles,  she,  on  the  other  hand,  sustained  the  nobles  in  their  re- 
volt against  the  empire  ;  for  the  abhorrence  of  the  German  barons 
to  being  subordinate  to  the  empire,  Avas  a  second  lever  of  the  papacy 
against  its  temporal  antagonist.  Jt  may  be  added,  ('as  we  are  en- 
deavouring, once  for  all,  to  present  a  complete  outline  of  the  ever- 
lasting i7?ibio;;lio  of  Italian  mediceval  politics,)  that  this  repugnance 
of  the  feudal  barons,  combined  with  the  policy  of  the  popes,  explains 
the  singular  rapidity  of  the  establishment  of  the  republics.     So 


1S56J  Dante.  889 

deeply  true,  in  a  certain  sense,  is  the  famous  apothegm  of  Bossuet. 
Jjhommc  s'agite,  inais  Dicu  le  menc. 

This  leadership  of  the  divinity  soon,  however,  displeased  the 
popes.  Their  wily  policy  had  hecn  discerned  by  a  lar^e  number  of 
the  freed  cities.  The  emperoi-,  on  the  other  liand,  attacked  "in 
Africa"  itself,  by  a  large  portion  of  the  German  clcra:y  and  nobles, 
instigated  by  the  popes,  essayed  to  occupy  the  ground  of  confidence 
thus  lately  forfeited  by  the  latter,  in  the  good  feelings  of  the  repub- 
lics of  Italy.  It  was  to  countercheck  this  movement  that  the  popes 
called  in  the  French,  by  assuming  to  confer  the  kingdom  of  i^aplcs 
on  Charles  of  Anjou;  and  it  was  this  event,  in  turn,  that  gave  occa- 
sion, generations  after,  to  the  descent,  already  hinted,  of  the  same 
nation,  under  Charles  VIII.,  which  had  the  result  of  defeating  or 
deferring  Italian  unity. 

Such,  then,  was  the  clear,  though  complicated  system  of  Italian 
politics,  or  rather  systems,  for  there  were  three,  we  see,  revolving 
one  within  another.  Uppermost  was  the  papac}',  pursuing  its 
empire  of  theocracy,  and  playing  off  all  the  parties  against  its 
main  obstacle,  the  temporal  emperor.'  Ne.xt  stood  the  aristoc- 
racy, who  leaned  by  turns  to  pope  or  emperor,  according  as  the  one 
or  the  other  wa'?  the  weaker  at  the  time,  knowing  that  the  preva- 
lence of  cither  would  be  alike  their  own  subjection.  Finally,  in 
the  lowest  or  inmost  sphere,  were  the  two  factions  of  the  free 
cities;  who,  as  being  more  heart}-  in  their  mutual  hatred,  and  loss 
calculating  in  their  politics,  composed  the  staple  of  the  great  divi- 
sion that  intersected  all  three  of  the  systems  into  the  celebrated 
parties  of  the  Gvclphs  and  the  Ghihcllines.  The  papacy,  the  popu- 
lace, the  French  pretenders  to  the  throne  of  Naples,  or  its  Spanish 
possessors,  made  up  the  body  of  Guelphs.  The  emperor,  the  aris- 
tocracy without  pretensions  to  petty  sovereignty,  the  m.orc  wealthy 
and  better  educated  of  the  burgess  class  composed  the  (xhibellincs. 
This  party  v/as,  doubtless,  as  is  usual  v/ith  the  n'lidjle  order  of  society. 
the  one  nearest  to  the  true  policy  of  Italian  unity  and  independ- 
ence. Yet  thi.'s  was  far  from  being  its  direct  purpose  as  a  party. 
The  conception  was  too  large  for  the  times.  There  was  only,  per- 
haps, one  man.  who,  through  the  inspiration  of  genius,  could  forsake 
tbiO  party  of  his  youth  and  ancestors,  resign  liis  fortune,  risk  h;s 
life,  and*  die  in  e.xile,  to  uphold  the  title  of  a  single  sovereign, 
although  a  foreigner,  aware  that  ho  would  prove  an  earnest  of 
introduction  to  a  native  substitute.  'This  melancholy  voice,  as  of 
one  crying  in  the  wilderness  of  demagogues,  and  despots,  and  fac- 
tions, and  intriguers,  for  the  revival  of  Roman  greatness,  was  the 
voice  of  Dante  Alicrhieri. 


390  Dante.  [July, 

Passing  now  to  the  literary  antecedents  of  the  poet,  our  few  remarks 
will  keep  much  closer  to  the  opinions  of  the  author;  for  M.  Fouriel 
can  be  made  responsible  for  scarcely  anything  of  the  precedinc^,  his 
dissertation  on  the  free  cities  bein_£;  confined  to  technical  analysis. 

It  is  notorious  that  the  poem  of  Dante  was  the  earliest  written  in 
the  popular  idiom,  and  had  the  honour  of  giving  form  to  the  "  Tus- 
can's siren  tongue."  The  suddenness  of  this  transition  from  non- 
entity to  high  perfection,  may,  very  reasonably,  be  suspected  of 
exaggeration  or  of  oversight.  But  it  seems  certain  that  preceding 
efforts  must,  if  there  were  any,  have  been  insignificant,  from  one 
particular  of,  perhaps,  unprecedented  singularity  in  any  country. 
It  is  not  only  that  its  popular  poetry  was  brought  to  Italy  from 
abroad,  by  the  Provenc^al  troubadours,  some  two  centuries  before 
Dante ;  but,  what  seems  stranger,  that  the  native  imitators,  when  at 
last  they  commenced  rhyming,  composed,  not  in  the  Italian  idioms, 
but  in  the  language  of  their  French  models.  This  curious  fact, 
however  singular,  will  not  be  doubted  on  reflection.  In  those  primi- 
tive epochs  the  words  and  rhythm  of  a  piece  of  poetry  Avere  so  amal- 
gamated, that  to  separate  them  is  impracticable  to  the  concrete 
fancy  of  even  the  poet.  He,  therefore,  takes  them  in  the  lump,- and 
his  simple  hearers  accept  them  similarly,  the  significance  of  the 
expression  going,  in  those  times,  scarce  beyond  the  ear.  Moreover, 
the  Provencal  dialect  v/as  closely  kindred  to  the  tongues  of  Italy, 
and  differed  mainly  in  a  higher  refinement  of  both  abstraction  and 
pronunciation.  Its  adoption,  therefore,  as  is  certain,  by  the  trouba- 
dours of  Italy,  to  the  neglect  of  their  own  idioms,  would  go  to  coun- 
tenance the  parado.x,  that,  in  effect,  the  Tuscan  tongue  sprung  forth, 
like  Pallas,  in  the  Divine  Comedy. 

Upon  the  poetry  itself  of  Provence,  its  distinctive  character  and 
principles,  M.  Fouriel  makes  some  fresh,  intelligent,  and  quite  sug- 
gestive observations.  Essentially  this  famous  poetry  comprised 
two  main  divisions;  the  first  and  earliest  was  c'liefly  narrative,  and 
represented  warlike  bravery  engaged  in  battling  for  Christianity, 
humanity,  or  weakness.  The  other  species,  which  was  lyrical,  was 
occupied  with  love.  But  the  author  remarks  justly,  that  the  style 
of  love  and  heroism,  which  were  celebrated  in  the  poems  of  the 
troubadours  of  Provence,  was  deeply  different  from  that  encoun- 
tered in  the  ancient  epics  and  lyrics.  The  warrior  bravery  de- 
picted by  the  mediaeval  poetry  was  more  ideal,  more  generous,  more 
spiritual  than  the  ancient;  the  love  had  much  more  delicacy,  more 
enthusiasm,  loss  of  sense ;  it  was,  in  short,  a  "  divinification  of 
■woman."  The  striking  contrast  does  e.xist,  no  doubt;  but  it  re- 
mains to  be  explained. 


185G.]  Danle.  391 

M.  Fouriel,  who  makes  no  pretensions  to  go  deep  into  philosophy, 
proceeds  to  note,  ■u'ith  equal  justice,  that  the  same  love  and  heroism 
are  the  vital  principles  and  social  sources  of  the  institution  of  chiv- 
alry. Ris  vieAvs  are  excellent  on  this  mooted  question,  -which  a  naive 
German  usurpation  pretends  to  settle  to  the  credit  of  the  coarse 
barbarians  of  the  Black  Forest.     Says  ]M.  Fouriel : 

"  Chivalry  was  the  result  of  several  essa}?,  both  rclic;ious  ar.d  political,  made 
diiriiig  thu  ruder  or'  thj  middle  ajjes,  to  oonvei*.  the  selfish  and  brutal  lorce  of 
the  warrior  elasscs  into  a  force  humane  and  generous  as  well  as  j)rotcctIvc  of 
society.  But  the  transtormatlon  could  be  produced  only  by  powcrt'ul  motives  of 
a  mora!  nature  ;  and  moral  forces  arc  rare  and  feeble  in  times  of  barbarism ; 
it  is  their  absence  that  constitutes  and  characterizes  barbarism. 

"  Anionjx  the  sentiments  creative  and  conser\ative  of  human  society,  there 
were  then  but  two  of  sufficient  influence  to  prevail  with  armed  and  ferocious 
men,  so  as  to  lead  them  to  employ  their  force  to  the  support  of  weakness  and 
of  rii^ht.  These  sentiments  were  religion  and  love — those  great  promoters  of 
civilisation  in  the  primitive  epochs  of  society.  It  was,  then,  by  the  action, 
sometimes  joint  and  sometimes  separate,  of  those  two  sentiments,  that  there 
arose,  amid  the  barbarism  of  the  middle  ages,  men  who  set  their  pride  and 
honour  on  protecting  justice  and  weakness.  Such  is,  when  contracted  to  the 
most  abridged  expression,  the  whole  history  of  chivalry  and  of  chlvalric  insti- 
tutions."—Vol.  i,  pp.  281,282. 

lie  does  not  deign  to  notice,  v,'C  perceive,  the  German  claim; 
and  yet  he  lets  us  see  the  Germans  to  have  some  title,  after  all. 
The  institution  was  made  mainly /or  them,  if  not  by  them.  But  to 
pretend  to  derive  honour  from  the  institution  upon  such  a  principle 
would  be,  we  fear,  much  as  if  criminals  should  boast  of  instituting 
court.s  of  justice. 

Chivahy,  in  fact,  was  natural,  and  normal,  and  universal;  not  ex- 
ceptional or  accidental,  as  is  still  so  shallowly  supposed.  "  The 
institution,"  proceeds  our  author,  "  was  not  special  to  Europe  or  the 
middle  ages.  It  is  a  general  phenomenon  of  civilisation,  which 
would  be  met  with  among  all  nations,  if  their  history  was  exact  and 
complete,  and  which  may  still  be  observed  among  several  commu- 
nities at  the  epoch  of  their  passage  from  barbarism  to  civilisation. 
There  may  be  noted  in  the  heroic  epoch  of  Greece  several  traits ' 
characteristic  of  the  chivalric  period  of  the  middle  ages.  The  same 
phenomenon  makes  its  appearance  with  a  much  closer  resemblance, 
and  in  a  form  more  complete,  among  the  Arabs,  in  the  ages  which 
immediately  preceded  Islamism."  We  will  add,  "to  point  the 
moral,"  that  such  is  also  the  real  origin  of  the  preeminent  polite- 
ness toward  the  fair  sex  of  our  own  countrymen.  This  great  law 
of  the  vis  medicatrix  civitalis  would,  by  the  way,  make  curious 
havoc  among  most  of  the  varieties  of  nations. 

War,  religion,  and  love,  in  their  direction  to  social  ends  from  the 
brutalities  of  ancient  times,  were,  then,  the  themes  of  the  Proven- 


392  Dante.  [July, 

9al  poetry.  This  poctiy  and  those  principles,  imported  into  Italy 
by  vandering  ininstrcls  from  the  south  of  France,  were  long  re- 
peated in  the  foreign  dialect.  It  -svas  only  by  slow  degrees,  and 
toward  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  tliat  feeble  essays  were  at- 
tempted in  a  fcv.-  of  the  principal  local  idioms.  The  vast  number 
of  those  idioms,  in  addition  to  the  causes  mentioned,  appears,  much 
rather  than  their  relative  rudeness,  to  have  contributed  to  this 
neglect.  Dante,  in  his  treatise  Dc  Vulgari  Eloquio,  counts  four- 
teen principal  provincial  dialects,  besides  the  minor  subdivisions, 
which  he  rates  conjecturally  at  a  thousand.  And  3.1.  Fouriel,  who 
has  resided  in  and  is  well  acquainted  with  Italy,  affirms  that  the 
number  of  patois  is  still  as  great,  although,  no  doubt,  less  widely 
different  than  in  tlio  time  of  Dante.  The  consequence,  as  is  but 
natural,  continues  with  the  cause.  That  cause  is  the  political  disper- 
sion above  delineated.  Language  can,  no  more  than  other  things, 
emerge  from  local  barbarism  into  cultivation,  civilisation,  organiza- 
tion, without  a  centre.  This  organic  necessity  was  felt  instinctively 
by  Dante,  when  he  regrets  that  some  one  dialect  is  not  invested 
with  a  general  precedence.  It  is  a  phase  of  the  same  sentiment  of 
the  sublime  and  the  universal,  which  made  him  Ghibelline,  and  left 
him  sighing  for  the  restoration  of  the  Roman  empire.  But,  fortu- 
nately, in  language  he  was  able  to  do  more  than  sigh.  Ho  merely 
sung,  and  the  "imperial"  dialect  which  he  desired  sat  enthroned 
forever.  ' 

We  hasten  now  to  the  poet  himself  and  his  works.  M.  Fouriel 
introduces  them  with  some  judicious  observations.  It  is  common, 
even  among  persons  who  can  conceive  poetry  philosophically,  to 
suppose  the  middle  ages  to  present  a  complete  parallel  with  times 
of  primitive  simplicity  and  naive  spontaneity.  They  assume  that 
then,  as  in  the  infi^ncj'  of  ancient  civilisations,  imagination  must 
have  reigned  unlimited,  and  poets  have  sung,  like  birds,  from  impulse. 
The  author  notes  that  ihis  is  obviou.^ly  incorrect.  In  a  literaiy  sense, 
'especially,  the  epoch  of  Dante  was  one  already  of  a  very  complicate 
civilisation.  The  new  civilisation,  to  be  sure,  was  in  its  infancy; 
but  it  acquired  a  prematurity  from  the  traditions  of  the  old.  The 
poets,  to  be  considered  of  the  first  order  in  their  line,  must,  at  the 
Bame  time,  be  jurisconsults,  theologians,  men  of  science.  They 
must  know  more  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  than  of  Homer.  The 
mithlle  ages  might  be  compared,  in  fact,  in  this  respect,  to  modern 
youth,  in  whom  the  natural  simplicity  is  superseded  by  educa- 
tion. In  consequence  of  this  complexity  in  the  social  situation, 
which  must  bo  naturally  represented  by  a  poet  of  the  first  order, 
M.  Fouriel  thinks  the  Divine  Comedy  should  not  be  judged  by 


1856.]  Dante.  3955 

vulgar  standards.  He  mio-hfc  have  added,  that  it  yields  no  argument 
against  the  famous  Homeric  heresy  v,-hich  holds  the  Iliad  and  the 
0d3'sscy  to  be  but  compilations  of  popular  ballads.  In  truth,  at 
bottom  it  -would  rather  do  the  contrary;  for  the  main  story  of  the 
poem  of  Dante,  the  descent  and  vision  of  the  -world  of  spirits,  had 
been  familiar,  it  is  known,  for  ages  in  popular  narratives  all  over 
Europe.  The  arguments  were  likewise  ofiered,  in  theologv,  by 
Aquinas ;  in  philosophy,  morals,  and  politics,  especially  by  Aristotle. 
The  incidents  themselves  he  scarcely  drew  from  imagination;  he 
found  the  horrors  of  the  Inferno  in  the  factions  of  the  Free  Cities. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  the  energy  that  fused  and  fashioned 
these  discordant  elements,  that  proved  the  true  poetic  genius  of  the 
author.  It  is  even  the  remote  and  miscellaneous  character  of  the 
materials  that  best  attest,  perhaps,  the  inspiration  of  the  poet.  For 
such  inspiration  is  nothing  else  than  the  convergence  of  a  wide  ex- 
perience— the  traditional  experience  of  ages  and  of  nations — into  a 
focus  of  intense  foresight  of  the  future.  It  is  required  of  men  of 
science,  that  their  procedures  of  induction  shall  be  laid  upon  the 
broadest  practicable  basis.  But  the  true  poet  cannot  proceed  other- 
wise than  does  the  true  philosopher.  Both  advance  in  the  same 
direction,  through  the  same  phenomena,  to  the  same  end,  save  that 
the  former  moves  on  the  wing,  and  sees  more  dimly,  but  also  fur- 
ther. It  is  the  growing  realization,  the  rational  interpretation  of 
the  socialistic  phases  of  these  provisions  of  the  Divine  Comedy,  that 
is  extending  yearly,  as  before  remarked,  the  fame  of  Dante  in  foreign 
countries. 

But  this  is  not  precisely  what  M.  Fouriel  is  going  to  show  us  in 
the  character  and  composition  of  Dante.  Of  the  former  he  gives 
the  following  quite  discriminating  outline :  "  Dante  was  the  most 
complicated  genius  of  his  complex  times.  He  combined  with  the 
most  vivid  and  enthusiastic  imagination,  a  curiosity  the  most 
ardent  and  investigating;  with  the  most  eminent  poetic  faculties, 
the  most  decided  scientific  tastes  ;  with  a  yearning  for  depicting  all 
that  he  witnessed,  all  that  impressed  him,  he  combined  an  eagerness 
to  learn  all  that  passed  in  remote  times  and  places.  Saturated  with 
the  various  inspirations  of  the  middle  ages,  he  sought  for  others, 
and  he  found  them  in  antiquity.  Dante's  genius,  in  a  word,  presents 
us  two  distinct  phases,  between  which  are  nearly  equally  divided  the 
shades  that  sepra-ate  them ;  namely,  a  phase  of  science  and  one  of 
poetry." — P.  372.  Toward  the  conclusion  of  the  portraiture, 
which  is  too  long  to  cite  entire,  the  author  adds,  that  what  espe- 
cially characterizes  the  mind  of  Dante,  among  all  the  first  clas.< 
poets  of  all  times,  is  a  sort  of  struiigle  between  the  multitude  of  his 

Fourth  Serif, s,  \'ol.  ViU.— 25 


394  Dante.  [July, 

diversified  endoAvments.  This  contention  is  the  point  of  view  in 
■which  he  proceeds,  freshly,  to  comment  on  his  ^vorks. 

The  works  of  Dante,  besides  the  Divine  Comedy,  whicli  is  the 
latest  as  well  as  greatest,  are  the  Vita  Nunva,  the  //  Convito,  both  in 
Italian ;  the  treatise  above  mentioned,  Dc  Vulgori  Eloqmo,  and 
another,  De  Monorchia,  both  in  poor  Latin.  His  minor  poetr}-, 
of  a  lyric  nature,  odes,  sonnets,  etc.,  although  now  printed  also 
separately,  as  it  was,  in  fact,  composed,  was  amalgamated  by  the 
author  with  the  two  former  of  those  prose  treatises,  by  one  of 
the  peculiar  oddities  in  question.  The  prose  works,  in  short,  are 
set  commentaries  written  afterward  upon  the  poems,  with  all  the 
system  and  the  subtlety  of  the  schools.  And  what  could  be  the 
poems  that  might  admit  of  such  dissection  ?  The  most  aerial,  un- 
substantial, enthusiastic  common-places  of  crazed  love.  A  portion 
of  them  were  written  on  the  fimous  Beatrice;  it  is  ihat  which 
forms  the  shadov>y  groundwork  of  the  Vila  Xuova.  The  rest,  con- 
sisting of  fourteen,  sung  several  other  •'  lady  loves,"  before  being 
served  up  in  the  //  Cunvito,  or  Banquet.  The  youth  of  Dante,  at 
the  composition  of  the  former  treatise,  might  bo  some  excuse,  al- 
though a  man  of  twenty- six  should  have  attained  to  some  discretion. 
But  the  Banquet,  though  composed  at  a  much  riper  stage  of  life, 
adopts  expressly  the  youthful  folly,  and  repeats  a  number  of  its 
extravagances.  What  is  equally  characteristic  (but  in  this  case 
creditably  so)  of  his  countrymen,  is  that  the  Banquet  was  avowedly 
written  to  incline  them  to  revoke  his  exile  by  a  parade  of  his  scho- 
lastic Fubtlety  and  antique  learning.  Though  he  was  then  quite 
famous  for  bis  poetry,  reputation  for  classical  learning  would  doubt- 
less serve  him  far  better  with  the  republicans  of  Florence.  And  for 
an  object  so  important,  on  an  occasion  so  deeply  solemn,  the  austere 
Dante,  the  most  serious  and  most  dignified  of  men,  did  not  provide 
a  fitter  subject  on  Avhich  to  ground  this  erudition  than  the  silly, 
scutitnental  love  rhymes  of  his  youth !  Can  anything  depict  the 
middle  ages  and  the  poet  better  ?  And  how  much  every  man,  how- 
ever great,  must  be  the  creature  of  his  times  !  Or,  rather,  it  is 
only  the  greater  men  who  are  so,  strictly ;  the  small  ones  and  the 
mediocrities  are  more  or  less  behind  the  age. 

The  reader  may  desire  a  sample  of  this  queer  embroidery  of 
philosophical  and  theological  excogitation  on  a  billet  doux.  We 
shall  transcribe  it  from  the  earlier  treatise,  to  show  that  Dante  did 
not  serk  for  the  occasion  which  gave  rise  to  the  Convito;  but  that 
his  tendency  to  speculation  was  scarce  less  congenial  than  to  love, 
and  that  he  would  have  been,  in  other  times  perhaps,  as  great 
a  philosopher  as  he  was  a  poet.     lie  is  bewailing,  at  twenty-six. 


1856.]  Dante.  396 

the  death,  then  recent,  of  Beatrice,  with  \rhom  he  mentions,  in  a 
dozen  places,  the  mysterious  concert  of  the  number  nine  ;  a  number 
which,  it  may  be  added,  plays,  throughout  his  other  writings,  the 
poem  included,  an  all-controlling  and  even  a  constitutive  part: 

"I  will  first  say  how  tlie  number  nino  fig^ures  in  the  death  ot'  Beatrice,  and 
then  attempt  an  explanation  why  it  was  so  signally  connected  with  her. 

"I  say,  then,  that,  accordin;:  to  the  calendar  of  Arabia,  the  nohlc  soul  of 
Beatrice  passed  away  at  the  ninth  hour  of  the  ninth  day  of  tiie  month. 
According  to  the  Syriac  calendar,  the  event  took  place  in  the  ninth  month  of 
the  year;  for  there  the  first  month  corresponds  to  our  October,  and  is  called 
Slrvn.  According  to  our  calendar,  siie  died  in  tliat  year  of  the  incarnation, 
wherein  \\\q  ptrfccl  number  nine  bad  revohed  nine  times  in  the  Cintury  iliat 
cave  her  birth.  Now,  why  is  it  that  this  number  nine  was  so  atFected  to  her? 
The  following  may  well  be  the  reason. 

"  According  to  Ptolemy,  and  also  the  Christians,  it  is  a  well-established 
truth  that  the  movable  -spheres  of  heaven  are  in  number  exactly  nine;  and 
the  astronomers  are  of  opinion  that  all  these  spheres  exert  on  earth  the  same 
respective  influences  which  ihey  [lossess  on  high.  Thus,  then,  would  the 
number  nine  have  had  occasion  to  recur  so  frequently  in  the  current  of  the 
destinies  of  Beatrice,  as  if  to  signify  that  all  the  spheres  had  met  in  concert  at 
her  birth. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  many  reasons  that  might  be  given  for  the  fact  itself. 
But,  looking  deeper,  and  a[)pealing  to  infallible  truth,  Beatrice  was  herself  the 
number  nine.  1  mean  figuratively  ;  and  the  following  is  my  proof  of  this 
assertion.  The  number  three  i»  tWe  root  of  nine;  for  it  may.  by  itself,  and 
without  any  other  number,  proiluce  nine,  it  being  evident  that  three  times 
three  make  nine.  If,  therefore,  on  the  one  side,  three  be  by  itself  the  factor  of 
nine,  and  if,  on  the  other,  the  Triad,  that  i-;  to  say,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  be  the  factor  of  miracles,  Beatrice  must  have  been  under  the 
influence  of  the  number,  to  signify  that  she  was  a  nine,  that  is  to  say,  a  prodigy, 
of  which  the  marvellous  Triad  is  the  veritable  root.  There  are,  perhaps,  (he 
adds,)  subtler  reasons  to  be  given  tor  the  point  in  question ;  but  that  which  I 
have  last  presented  is  what  best  pleases  me,  and  I  understand  it." 

If  this  disquisition  has  till  the  vagueness  or  the  vacuity  of  a  sick 
man's  dream,  it  will  be  marked  that  it  has  nothing  of  its  incoherence. 
Is  there  anything  more  systematic,  both  in  statement  and  in  argument, 
more  succinct  in  expression,  or  more  sequential  in  arrangement;  to  .>ay 
nothing  of  the  erudition  about  Oriental  calendars  and  Greek  specu- 
lations, or  the  philosophy  of  numbers?  This,  undoubtedly,  in  a 
meditTeval  youth  of  twenty-six,  is  a  phenomenon  almost  as  singular 
as  the  ineffable  puerility  of  his  persuasion  of  the  flimsy  object  of  the 
application  ;  yet  both  are  graphically  representative  of  Dante's  titnes 
as  well  as  genius.  What  may  seem  strange  is,  that  those  times 
should  take  no  umbrage  at  the  qtiocr  comparison  of  Dante's  lover 
with  the  Divine  persons  of  the  Trinity:  and  that  there  was  none, 
may  be  concluded  from  the  repetition  of  it,  more  than  once,  in  his 
later  and  maturcr  publications. 

For  example,  in  the  11  Convito,  after  distributing  the  heavenly 


396  Dante.  [July, 

choirs  (which  choirs  arc  also  nine  in  number,)  into  a  triad  of  hierar- 
chies, he  goes  on  to  adjust  them  to  the  Trinity  as  follows :  The  first 
hierarchy  chants  the  all-j>en'ading  jyozrcr  of  the  Father;  the  second, 
the  consummate  iciscloni  of  the  iSon ;  the  third,  the  fervent  charity 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  "-which,  being  ph\ccd  nearer  to  us,  transmits  the 
gifts  that  it  has  received  for  us."*  It  may  be  doubted  that  this 
distribution  of  the  oliicial  attributes  of  the  Trinity  could  be  received 
as  strictly  orthodox  at  Home.  But  Dante  is  still  bolder  in  another 
passage  of  the  same  treatise,  where  he  speaks  as  follows  of  the 
Trinity,  as  he  "  A/y/iSc//"  understands  it."  The  first  person,  says 
he,  is  the  Father,  who  represents  existence,  and  corresponds  to  the 
choir  of  Seraphim,  which  are  the  spirits  of  contemplation ;  the 
second  is  "  the  Father  in  relation  to  the  Son,  as  part  of  him,  and 
conjoint  with  him,"  to  which  corresponds  the  choir  of  Cherubim,  the 
spirits  o'lknoiolcdgc ;  the  third  is  the  Father  still,  in  the  like  relation 
to  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  presides  over  the  choir  of  the  Principalities, 
the  spirits  oi' action  and  society.  This  analysis,  which  it  was  requisite 
to  clarify  somewhat  in  the  translation,  contains,  if  we  mistake  not, 
more  philosophy  than  theology.  But  how,  then,  has  it  been  accepted, 
and  its  author  lectured  on,  in  Churches  in  the  ages  of  the  persecution 
of  the  Albigenses  ?  or  have  we  a  correct  conception  of  the  religious 
spirit  of  those  ages  ?  The  latter  is  a  point  on  which  these  works  of 
Dante  throw  serious  doubt. 

In  fine,  he  elsewhere  casts  off  completely  the  religious  veil  from  the 
choirs  and  spheres,  and  says  that  they  are  to  him  nothing  but  mere 
symbols  of  the  "  >ti?ie  sciences."  These  nine  sciences  also  figure 
in  the  third  division  of  his  great  poem.  This  poem  itself,  besides 
the  principal  partition  into  a  triad,  prepared  in  this  case,  it  is  true, 
spontaneously  by  the  traditions  of  his  religion,  has  each  locality,  as 
is  well  known,  divided  off  into  7iine  circles.  Whence  came  the 
singular  inhesion,  so  to  say,  of  these  triad  and  novadc  numbers,  in 
the  te.xturo  of  this  universal  and  original  intelligence  '.'  It  is  a  point 
which  we  must  leave  unsettled,  like  the  strange  indulgence  of  the 
middle  ages,  to  hasten  to  the  poem  itself,  to  which  we  find  ourselves 
conducted. 

Here,  again,  will  be  encountered  the  same  contrast,  yet  without 
collision,  of  the  ancient  and  the  infant  civilisations.  M.  Fouriel 
surveys  the  Inferno  in  the  point  of  view  of  "religious  unity;"  but 
in  pursuit  of  his  original  and  deeply  interesting  line  of  comment. 
Nothing,  verily,  can  be  more  striking  than  the  jarring  medley,  when 
remarked  in  detail;  and  yet,  we  dare  say,  it  arrests  the  notice  of 

"The  sole  editlou  at  hand,  that  of  Buonocorsi,  1-190,  is  destitute  of  all  section- 
ing, and  even  paging;  so  that  we  cannot  indicate  a  more  specific  reference. 


1856.]  Dante.  397 

but  few,  if  any,  of  general  readers.  Miglit  not  this  peculiarity  of 
inadvertence,  or  of  art,  suggest  a  reason,  a  fortiori,  for  the  tolera- 
tion of  the  dark  ages  'i  But  let  us  cite  a  few  examples  of  the  con- 
trast ;  they  will  serve  the  studious  reader  to  pursue  the  criticism 
thr>jugh  the  whole  poem. 

After  passing  the  outer  portal  of  the  Inferno,  with  its  dread 
inscription,  so  awfully,  so  unmistakably  Christian,  the  first  en- 
counter of  the  poeb  is  with  a  river  and  a  boatman,  which  are  no 
other  than  the  heathen  Acheron  and  Charon.  This  obstacle  got 
over,  we  reach  the  first  of  the  infernal  circles,  where  sits  a  judge 
who  is  to  try  the  sinner — the  Christian  sinner — and  assign  his 
punishment;  and'ihis  high  personage  is  also,  simply,  the  pagan 
Minos,  of  classic  fame.  The  guardian  of  the  third  circle  is  a  mon- 
ster with  three  heads,  and  bearing  also  the  appellation  of  Cerberus. 
The  fourth  circle,  which  winds  its  fires  around  the  misers  and  the 
prodigals,  has  for  its  sentinel  the  god  of  riches,  which  would  be 
proper  were  the  name  not  Plutus.  Descending  deeper  the  painful 
pyramid,  we  meet  a  crowd  of  pagan  monsters,  the  Harpies,  the  Cen- 
taurs, the  three  Furies,  with  the  head  of  Gorgon,  the  triple-bodied 
monster  Geryon,  &c.  Thus,  the  reader  finds  himself  perplexed 
with  a  variety  of  curious  questions. 

And  first,  as  to  the  main  principle  of  religious  unity,  How  did 
the  poet  hope  to  be  indulged  in  this  undistinguished  mixture  of  the 
tv.-o  creeds  ?  Or  if  he  may  have  thought  the  heathen  part  was  not  be- 
lieved in  by  his  readers,  how  should  he  not  have  seen  the  consequence 
of  blending  fictions  v.'ith  sacred  truth— namely,  his  liability  to  the  sus- 
picion of  insincerity?  Then,  again,  in  point  of  taste,  or  of  the  unity  of 
art,  did  he  imagine  that  the  sim]>lcst  readers  would  not  be  shocked 
at  those  unheard-of  personages,  while  the  learned  must  perceive  the 
grotesque  incongruity  V  What  hope  could  there  be  of  ajsthetical 
illusion  in  a  Christian  vision,  which  at  every  moment  must  be  inter- 
rupted by  pagan  personages,  time,=;,  and  places  '.  Hov,"  should  he  make, 
in  fine,  the  strange  selection  of  a  heathen  poet  to  be  his  guide  and 
teacher,  to  whom  he  pays  the  veneration  of  a  saint?  and  a  poet,  too, 
who  had  himself  described  the  hell  of  polytheism,  and  would  be 
naturally  thought  to  have  inoculated  him  with  heresy?  Or  if 
it  was  because  on  this  account  he  might  be  deemed  to  know 
the  region  better,  did  not  this  notion  imply  identity  between  the 
heathen  and  the  Christian  hells?  And.  moreover,  why  not  choose 
St.  Paul,  who  likewise  added  this  experience  to  all  the  other  quali- 
fications of  probability  as  well  as  orthodoxy? 

Did  Dante,  then,  confound  these  things  through  ignorance  of  his 
religion  ?    No :  for  there  were  few  more  erudite,  and  no  more  subtle 


398  Dante.  [July, 

theologians  among  even  the  ecclesiastics  of  his  age.  Are  vre  to 
think  him,  then,  a  heretic  or  an  infidel,  as  has  been  urged,  Avho 
thus  insidiously  would  cast  discredit  on  the  Christian  tenets  by 
this  impious  jumble?  2so;  for  although  no  fanatic,  (as  real  genius 
can  never  be,)  he  "was  too  grave  in  even  trifles  not  to  be  seri- 
ous and  sincere  in  religion.  Again;  suppose  the  religious  per- 
plexity got  over,  are  we  warranted  in  thinking  him  so  destitute  of 
preparation  as  not  to  know  the  first  condition  of  poetic  composition? 
No,  evidently:  for  although  the  Latin  version  of  Aristotle,  made 
from  the  Arabic,  did  not  as  yet  present  that  author's  Poetics  to 
Western  Europe,  yet  Dante  surely  must  have  been  acquainted  with 
the  Art  of  Poetry  of  Horace,  whom  he  encounters  in  the  realm  of  . 
Shades,  in  the  august  company  of  Homer.  But,  moi-e  than  this,  he 
had  a  philosophic  system  of  his  own,  upon  the  forms  and  the  princi- 
ples of  poetry  in  general,  as  is  attested  by  the  earlier  treatise,  de 
Vulgari  Eloquio.  It  is  true  that  ho  does  not  discuss  the  question 
of  the  three  unities.  With  his  habitual  predilection  to  pierce  in  all 
things  to  the  bottom,  he  builds  the  edifice  of  his  poetic  art  upon  the 
physiology  of  the  Peripatetics,  in  its  three  vitabilities,  or  souls — 
irascible,  concupisciblc.  and  rational.  Having  dropped  the  work 
alluded  to  before  applying  these  rather  remote  principles,  it  is  not 
known  that  he  had  brought  the  theory  to  any  practical  consistency; 
but,  at  all  events,  the  mere  fact  of  speculation  upon  his  art,  would 
prove  that  he  must  have  availed  himself  of  all  accessible  instruction. 
And,  in  fine,  if  he  did  not.  would  it  not  transcend  all  the  wonders 
how  he  yet  produced  a  master-piece? 

The  general  result  of  this  series  of  exclusive  interrogatories, 
leaves  behind  but  one  of  two  suppositions.  Either  Dante  was 
unconscious  or  regardless  of  those  objections,  from  a  profound  sym- 
pathy with  the  condition  of  his  epoch,  (and  thus  they  would  be  none, 
in  fact,  to  the  reception  of  his  work,)  or  else  he  braved  them  with 
deliberation,  and  upon  system. 

The  latter  is  the  theory  preferred  by  M.  Fouriel.  He  notes,  in 
detail,  that  most  of  the  mythological  characters  employed  by  Dante 
are  deeply  modified  in  shape  or  attribute,  to  suit  the  spirit  of  the 
Christian  poem;  and  thinks  that  this  should  serve  to  obviate  both 
the  religious  and  ajsthetic  difficulties.  That,  however,  it  could 
remove  neither,  appears  to  us  to  be  quite  evident.  In  the  religious 
point  of  view,  the  palliation  would  be  aggravation ;  it  would  dis- 
close not  a  mere  accidental  jumble  of  the  two  creeds,  such  as  existed 
in  the  vague  fancy  of  the  community,  but  a  deliberate  disposition 
to  graft  the  one  upon  the  other,  by  a  transformation  the  novelty 
of  which  must  rouse  the  public  suspicion.     iEsthetically,  the  con- 


1866.]  Dante.  399 

elusion  TTOuld  be  still  less  tenable,  if  possible.  The  very  reason  of 
the  "well-knoAvn  rule,  in  all  the  masters  of  the  art,  by  ■which  the  epic 
of  a  dramatic  poet  should  take  his  characters  from  history,  is  but 
in  order  that  they  may  be  popularly  recognised.  The  alteration, 
then,  vthich  M.  Fouriel  imputes  to  Dante  as  a  system,  goes  directly 
in  the  face  of  the  first  principle  of  composition.  The  heathen 
characters,  as  far  as  changed  from  the  traditional  conceptions,  must. 
on  the  one  baud,  fail  of  public  recoguidon ;  -while,  on  the  other,  to 
retain  the  names,  -would  give  the  same  offence  to  religious  jealousy. 
■\Yhich  ^vould  pay  small  attention  to  the  alteration  in  the  things. 
Thus  the  plan  -which  M.  Fouriel  attributes  to  the  poet,  would  have 
the  a-wkwarduess  of  taking  only  the  disadvantages  in  both  respects! 
It  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  the  refutation  of  such  a  position. 

There  remains,  then,  the  alternative,  -which  is  accordingly  our  own 
opinion.  Dante  had  no  settled  system  of  exclusion  or  of  alteration, 
but  obeyed  the  instinct  of  his  genius  in  its  profound  harmony  -v\-ith 
the  times.  It  -v\'as  this  harmony  that  veiled  the  blemish  of  the 
composition  from  his  contemporaries,  while  the  real  causes  of  their 
admiration  were  entirely  foreign  to  effects  of  art.  This  latent  char- 
acter of  Dante's  poem,  that  won,  despite  its  faults  of  art,  the  veneration 
of  the  middle  ages,  and  the  meditations  of  the  present,  it  is  quite 
impossible  that  we  could  offer,  on  the  verge  of  closing,  to  examine. 
"We  confine  the  point  to  the  conclusion  of  Dante's  complete 
spontaneity;  that  is  to  say.  the  absence  of  a  scheme  of  artiGcc 
he  nowhere  hints,  and  v.-hich,  if  deemed  to  be  itself  expedient,  he 
would  be  careful  to  make  known  explicitly.  In  confirmation,  it  will 
be  briefest  to  cite  a  few  of  the  concessions  wrung  by  truth  from  the 
reluctant  reasoning  of  M.  Fouriel  to  the  contrary.  They  will  con- 
firm our  refutation  of  his  own  thesis,  and  do  a  little  toward  the 
illustration  of  what  Ave  submit  to  be  the  true  solution. 

M.  Fouriel.  in  the  middle  of  the  argument,  in  which  he  labours  to 
show  that  Dante  designed  the  medley  of  his  poem,  says  : 

"  The  Italy  of  the  times  of  Dante  had  not  broken  fully  -with  the  lloman 
Italy.  The  reminiscences  ot'  the  traditions  of  the  latter  maintained  stillover 
the  fornicr,  not  only  a  real  authority,  but  a  sort  of  vital  control.  This  influ- 
ence of  classic  antiquity  over  medi:eval  Italv  -was  manitest,  especially  in  [foinl 
of  literature  and  of  lore.  .  .  .  Tiiese  circumstances  had  assuredly  not  the 
efiect  on  Dante  -tvhich  they  exerted  on  the  other  learned  persons  of  th"  epr^th. 
At  the  same  time  they  had  their  effects;  they  entered  into  his  theories,  and 
exercised  a  certain  influence  on  his  imnprination  anfl  his  ideas.  Full  of  cntiiu- 
siasm  for  ancient  poetry,  he  studied  it  without  much  carin;:  to  (lisfinijiti-h  U- 
tween  the  suhstar,ce  an,!  the  form  :  nor  helntui  tlie  f/rniiis  ofthrjHujan  poets 
and  ihnl  of  the  paqan  xyMcm.  He  tried  to  conceive  this  poetry  in  its  primitive 
meaninj  and  inteiiritv  :  he  did  his  best  to  tnnsport  himself  i<leally  into  the 
epochs  in  -nhicb  it  had  tlourishedin  its  living  reality.     Dante  had,  in  this  way, 


400  Dante.  [July, 

formed  to  biuis;'lf,  exteriorly  to  liis  Italian  creeds,  an  antique  creed  and  taste  of 
paganism.  Jn  fine,  there  na.-; — and  this,  perhaps,  unknoicu  to  himself — there 
was,  in  his  imagination,  a  pagan  side,  (culc  pu'ien,)  upon  ■which  he  •^\as  in 
conlradiction  tui:h  himself,  (is  far  as  Christian,  and  as  principally  developed 
under  the  injiw-'nccs  of  the  middle  ages." — P.  427. 

This,  Ave  see,  is  pretty  pertinent  to  both  the  terms  of  the  alleged 
harmony,  to  the  condition  of  the  poet's  epoch,  as  well  as  that  of  his 
intelligence.  But  lest  these  statements  may  bo  thought  objections 
self-proposed,  and  ans^vered  fully,  we  do  not  fear  to  let  the  reader 
see  the  very  conclusion  of  the  author's  argument,  since  he  presents 
it  in  the  condensed  compass  of  a  single  summary  fact : 

"  This  fact  is,  that  the  employment  which  Dante  makes,  in  his  poem,  of 
mrthological  elements,  and  of  a  pagan  guide,  docs  not  really  atl'ect  its  unity, /*j 
OS  far,  at  least,  as  this  unitij  depended  on  the  religious  conviction  of  the  author. 
It  is  that  Dante  is  almost  equally,  although  d/iversdji.  Christian,  in  all  the  parts 
of  his  poem,  in  those  even  where  he  may  he  adi)iittiy_l  to  have  had  pagan  dis- 
tractions. It  is  that,  taken  all  together,  the  Inferno  is  the  true,  serious,  and 
profound  expression  of  the  Italian  middle  ages,  and  that  the  reminiscences 
ofantiquit)-  liave  there  no  more  nor  less  effect  than  that  ichich  (hey  had  also  on 
those  middle  agts  themselves." — P.  44G. 

It  is,  the  reader  sees,  in  even  terms,  the  proposition  we  have  been 
maintaining  against  the  theory  which  M.  Fouriel  must  have  thus 
forgotten  in  the  winding  up. 

This  general  conception  of  Dante's  method,  and  his  principles — 
we  mean  the  absence  of  all  method,  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
principles — would  also  cut  another  knot  of  vexed  celebrity  in  the 
Divine  Comedy,  and  which  M.  Fouriel.  too,  discusses  incidentally 
in  the  ensuing  section.  His  main  topic  is  the  end  and  the  motive 
of  Dante's  poem.  The  decision,  in  which  we  agree  with  him,  is  that 
the  motive  was  the  love,  and  the  end,  the  apotheosis  of  Beatrice. 
There  were,  doubtless,  in  a  mind  so  prolific,  a  life  so  tried,  and  a 
work  so  various,  a  vast  multitude  of  adventitious,  or  subordinate 
considerations.  There  wore  gratitudes  to  be  e.xpre.sscd,  there  were 
vengeances  to  be  executed,  factions  to  be  execrated,  parties  to  be 
propitiated,  passions  to  be  vented,  doctrines  to  be  expounded.  All 
these  things  went  for  much,  no  doubt,  in  giving  character  and  com- 
pass to  the  original  programme  of  the  author.  But  what  may  be 
said  is,  that  if  Beatrice  had  never  lived,  or  been  known  to  Dante,  the 
Divine  Comedy  would  never  have  been  written. 

And  this  i.s  not  at  all  at  variance  with  the  social  import  we 
assign  the]ioem;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  its  emphatic  confirmation. 
The  great  distinction  of  the  mcdi;"cval  sociability  from  the  ancient, 
was  the  elevation  or  emancipation  of  woman.  The  ancient  civilisa- 
tion was  one  of  force,  of  materiality,  and  so  continued  to  the  last 


1856.]  Dante.  401 

despite  the  gloss  of  mental  culture ;  for  the  intellect  applies  itself 
quite  indiflerently  to  physics  or  to  morals,  as  its  business  is  with 
tfuth,  which  is  encountered  in  both  alike.  The  mediceval  civilisation 
was  mystically  moral ;  mystically,  because  then  at  its  comnienccftient. 
The  spiritual  development,  which  was  to  triumph  over  the  material, 
was  felt  instinctively,  and  without  a  notion  of  the  principles  ;  but  in 
the  absence  of  the  principles  that  guide  the  tendencies  of  the  age,  the 
public  mind  endeavours  to  give  body  to  its  aspirations  in  substan- 
tial objects.  It  sets  up  symbols  of  as  close  analogy  as  possible  to 
its  emotions.  Hence,  in  days  of  heathenism,  before  the  light  of 
Christian  truth,  the  rise  and  character  of  all  the  systems  of  idolatry. 
Hence,  in  the  middle  ages,  the  semi- worship  of  the  fair  sex,  as  the 
living  symbols  of  the  rank  of  spirit,  and  the  right  of  weakness  above 
force  and  matter.  And  this  is  the  gTcat  principle  of  modern  civilisa- 
tion which  Dante,  although  quite  unconsciously,  has  nearly  deified 
in  Beatrice. 

From  this  we  may  conceive  the  pedantry  of  the  dissertations  of 
most  of  his  commentators,  to  determine  if  the  heroine  was  not 
an  allegory  for  theology;  for  this  is  the  dispute  to  which  wo 
meant  to  call  attention,  and  of  which,  while  seeming  to  digress 
from  it,  we  were  preparing  the  decision.  Such  is  also  the  decision, 
we  are  pleased  to  see,  of  M.  Fouriel,  so  far  as  denying  Beatrice  to 
be  a  symbol  of  theology.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  no  notion 
that  she  was  a  symbol  of  any  sort ;  and  ranks,  in  motive,  the  poem 
of  Dante  with  the  silly  sonnet  of  a  troubadour.  If  there  was 
pedantry  on  the  one  side,  there  is  pucrilit}'  on  the  other.  Those 
who  made  Dante  a  cold  allcgorist,  did  him,  certainly,  more  mental 
honour,  and  thus  Avcrc  nearer  to  a  just  estimate  than  those  who  think 
him  a  love-sick  visionary,  for  if  the  conduct  of  this  strange  being 
were  to  be  construed  by  the  literal  standard,  he  would  be  worthier 
of  a  "strait  waistcoat"  than  of  the  purple  of  imperial  genius. 

Those  reflections  apply  also  to,  and  are  illustrated  in  turn  by, 
a  shrewd  notice  of  M.  Fouriel,  on  a  famous  episode  of  Dante's 
poem.  Everybody  who  has  heard  of,  not  to  say  read,  the  Divine 
Comedy,  must  be  acquainted  with  the  touching  story  of  Francesca 
di  Rimini.  The  real  facts  were,  it  is  known,  the  murder  of  this  lady 
and  her  lover  by  her  husband,  who  was  also  a  brother  of  the  male 
victim.  Both  tlie  parties  were  among  the  highest  families  of  Italy ; 
Francesca's  father  being  Lord  of  Ravenna,  and  the  husband  Lord  of 
Rimini.  Hence  a  train  of  family  wars,  that  threw  all  Italy  into 
commotion,  and  augmented  the  disposition  to  poetize  the  tragic 
incident.  It  was  also  in  Dante's  lifetime,  and  his  earlier  years,  that 
the  event  took  place ;  so  that  he  might  have  made  himself  histori- 


402  Dante.  [Jnly, 

cally  accurate  in  the  particulars.  Yefc  in  the  notice  of  it  in  the 
poem,  as  M.  Fouriel  complains,  he  goes  upon  the  vaguest  version  of 
it  by  the  popular  imagination.  But  the  main  grievance  of. the 
critic  is  the  mode  of  introducing  it.  He  lays  down  rightly, 
that  it  is  a  maxim  in  the  composition  of  epic  poetry,  that  every 
episode  and  new  character  must  present  something  in  self-explana- 
tion; must  put  the  reader  in  possession  of  some  antecedents  of  the 
scene  exhibited.  He  might  have  added  that  the  obligation  prevails 
in  even  dramatic  poetry,  of  -which  the  specific  distinction  is  the 
interdiction  of  all  narration.  But  what  does  Dante,  in  the  cele- 
brated incident  in  question? 

After  passing  with  his  guide,  Virgil,  the  first  circle  of  hell,  he 
comes  upon  a  murky  region,  swept  in  all  directions  by  contending 
whirlwinds,  on  which  are  whiffed  about  the  souls  of  the  voluptuous 
in  this  life.  His  companion  names  him  several  of  the  most  famous 
among  the  number — Semiramis,  Cleopatra,  Dido,  Paris,  cVc. ;  but 
Dante's  notice  is  attracted  particularly-  to  two  of  the  shades  who 
go  together,  and  whom  the  conflict  of  storm  cannot  separate. 
These  are  Francesca  di  Rimini  and  her  brother-in-law,  Malatesta. 
But  how  Dante  came  to  know  this — that  is  to  say,  how  he  considered 
that  his  readers  were  to  come  to  kno-?v  it — is  the  question. 

Intimating  to  his  guide  that  he  would  like  to  speak  to  those  two 
shades,  at  the  contemplation  of  whose  companionship  he  feels  a 
natural  tenderness,  he  is  told  to  ask  them  to  approach  him,  in  the 
name  of  the  love  they  bear  each  other.  At  this  potent  invitation, 
they  descend  athwart  the  tempest,  "like  a  pair  of  doves,  called  by 
their  young,  on  sailing  pinions  toward  the  tender  nest."  Francesca 
addresses  Dante  as  a  •"benevolent  creature,"  and  professes  her 
disposition  to  answer  his  inquiries.  The  celebrated  sequel,  how- 
ever touchingly  sublim.e,  would  here  be  rather  out  of  place,  and  is 
not  necessary  to  the  purpose.  Suffice  it  that  Francesca,  in  neither 
her  preface  nor  responses,  gives  the  slightest  indication  of  her 
identity,  except  the  following:  "The  city  that  beheld  my  birth  is 
seated  on  the  shore  where  the  Po  conceals  its  waters  from  the  cor- 
tege of  its  tributaries."  And  this  intimation  of  mere  locality  would, 
besides,  answer  to  the  other  cities  that  lie  along  the  western  coast 
of  the  Adriatic.  On  the  other  hand,  tlie  poet  afterward  addresses 
Francesca  by  name,  without  a  word  to  show  the  intermediate 
recognition. 

On  this  queer  narrative,  M.  Fouriel  makes,  among  others,  the  fol- 
lowing strictures : 

"Once  again;  if,  in  reading  this  passage  of  Dante,  we  did  rot  already 
know  the  event  on  wliich  it  rest^;,  it  would  be  impossible  to  recognise  it.     The 


1856.]  Dante.  403 

passage  is  not,  properly  speaklnp-,  a  recital ;  it  is  rather  merely  an  allusion,  and 
a  quite  lyrical  one,  to  a  tact.  The  poet  glides  rapidly  over  the  really  historical 
portion  of  the  adventure,  supposing  il  known  and  jiresent  to  all  hi-!  readers, 
and  dwells  but  upon  the  secret  and  mysterious  portion,  that  of  which  popular 
tradition  could  know  nothing  for  certain,  and  u]>on  which  his  imagination 
might  cmbroidor  at  ease,  -without  incurring  the  risk  ot'  contradiction.  This 
manner,  of  treating  historic  subjects  is  (jenerclly  that  of  Dante  :  what  he  forgets 
most  u:iUingl>/  is  the  recital  of  an  adcenUire,  the  mnst  immeaidle  particulars 
of  i's  occurrence,  and  irhat  people  u-oukl  remark  of  it,  and  be  most  earjcr  to 
know.  The  side  on  which  he  loccs  to  take  it,  is  the  side  of  the  marvellons ;  that 
whereby  he  may  attach  it  to  the  fatal  destinies  of  man;  it  is 
this  aspect  thai  he  develnprs,  tchcre  he  finds  i'  in  existence,  and  creates  whfre  it 
does  not  exist.  It  is  not  in  this  manner  that  an  epic  poet  narrates,  or  at  least 
it  is  not  by  conducting  his  narrative  in  this  fashion,  that  he  luliils  his  vocation 
and  attains  his  end." — P.  4.8.5. 

Not  the  vocation  or  the  manner,  it  may  be,  of  an  epic  poet ;  but 
they  are  tliose,  if  we  mistake  not,  of  the  prophet  and  the  philosopher. 
We  close  with  two  remarks  upon  the  phrases  italicised.  The 
ascription  to  the  poet  of  the  simplicity  of  supposing  all  his  readers, 
like  himself,  in  full  possession  of  the  story,  is  discriminating  as  an 
observation,  but  injudicious  as  an  imputation.  M.  Fouriel  before 
insisted,  as  we  said,  that  Dante  had  art  in  all  things,  not  excepting 
his  amalgamation  of  the  pagan  mythology.  Again ;  the  charge  that 
he  evades  the  detail  of  particulars  and  recitals — although  an  excel- 
lent characterization,  not  alone  of  Dante,  but  of  all  high  genius — be- 
trays once  more,  we  fear,  the  insufficiency  of  this  critic  for  his  task. 
Dante  does  not  dwelh  forsooth,  on  those  circumstances  of  a  story 
which  tout  le  monde  would  be  apt  to  notice,  and  most  eager  to  know: 
and  he  avoids  it,  quite  prudentially,  for  fear  of  getting  into  contra- 
diction. It  is  thus  that  common  intellects,  however  candid,  must 
interpret  genius.  When  the  Divine  Comedy  comes  to  be  viewed 
as  the  most  artlessly  inspired  of  poems,  then,  and  not  sooner,  will 
there  be  a  just  apprehension  of  its  real  nature  and  progressive  fame. 


404  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 


Art.  JV— SYDNEY  S^tllTH. 

A  Memoir  of  the  R'.v.  Sydney  Smith,  by  Lis  Daughter,  Lady  Holland;  with  a 
Selection  from  his  Letters.  Edited  by  Mr.s.  Austin.  New-York :  Harper  & 
Brothers.     2  vol?.     ISoo. 

^lO  recent  book  lias  attracted  a  larger  share  of  public  attention 
than  has  Lady  Holland's  memoir  of  her  father.  Tried  by  a 
general  standard,  it  has  proved  a  most  acceptable  and  -svelcome 
contribution  to  our  current  literature.  The  critics  have  enjoyed  a 
revel  over  its  brilliant  pages  :  and  the  fine  talkers,  -who  rhinister  to  the 
intellect  of  dinner  tables,  and  cheer  the  closing  hours  of  the  day  by 
racy  speech  and  flowing  humour,  have  exulte'd  as  if  a  new  possession 
had  been  added  to  their  stores  of  v/ealth.  "Within  the  last  six  months 
Sydney  Smith  has,  probably-,  been  named  more  frequently  than  he  was 
during  any  twenty  years  of  his  life.  "What  an  instance,  this,  of  the 
power  of  literature  1  "What  a  significance  does  it  give  to  pen  and 
press  1  A  few  sheets  of  paper,  grovang  into  a  volume  beneath  the 
gentle  hand  of  woman:  a  widow's  love  collecting  worthy  materials, 
and  a  daughter's  affection  arranging  and  combining  them  into 
order  and  beauty;  then  the  mechanical  service  of.  types,  and  Syd- 
ney Smith  is  an  inmate  of  thousands  of  homes,  living  his  life  over 
again ;  talking  in  the  same  gushing  and  cxhaustless  strain  of  thoucrht 
and  humour;  writing,  rcvicv.ing,  reforming,  and  preaching;  a  stru'-- 
gling  man,  a  brave  man,  a  hearty  man;  a  kind,  generous,  philan- 
thropic man,  whose  moral  qualities  honoured  a  genius  that  rendered 
most  valuable  and  praiseworthy  services  to  the  truth,  wisdom,  and 
heroism  of  the  age.  The  new  Sydney  Smith,  we  incline  to  believe, 
is  better  than  the  old ;  or,  to  speak  more  exactly,  he  has  a  better 
position  before  the  world.  It  is  the  same  man — the  distinct, 
unmistakable  Sydney  Smith — the  broad-chested,  round-built  En- 
glishman, with  just  enough  of  French  blood  to  quicken  his  nerves 
without  any  injury  to  his  substantial  muscles.  Here  he  is,  with  all 
his  instant-telling,  sharp-pointed  ficulties;  with  all  his  learning  in 
ready  obedience;  with  clear,  vigorous,  accurate  language  for  the 
despatch  of  ideas  as  fast  as  a  teeming  brain  could  originate  them : 
here  he  is,  the  full-freighted  man,  with  more  diversity  of  intellect, 
and  more  adaptedncss  to  this  many-sided  world  than  any  one 
of  his  day;  here  he  is,  busy  at  all  imaginable  things,  from 
inventing  horse- scratchers  to  the  manufacture  of  a  grotesque 
wardrobe  for  rheumatism,  from  training  stupid  servants  to  the 
management  of  oflicial  revenues,  from  a  tender  oversight  of  the 


185G.]  Sijdney  Smith.  405 

sick  of  his  parish  to  the  most  formidable  sort  of  surgery  on  some 
cancerous  affection  of  the  body  poUtic.  Here  he  is — curate,  joker, 
satirist,  Utihtarian,  Whig,  Canon  of  St.  Paul's— with  all  his  versatile 
endowment?,  each  as  fresh,  as  spirited,  as  demonstrative,  as  if  the 
great  soul  had  to  diffuse  itself  into  its  action  alone. 

Apart  from  its  subject,  every  book  has  a  "natural  history" 
peculiar  to  itself;  and,  if  followed  out  in  its  details,  it  would  deeply 
enlist  attention  and  sympathy.  2no  book  ever  reaches  its  precise 
mark;  none  ever  accomplishes  just  the  object,  in  just  the  manner, 
and  under  just  the  circumstances,  that  an  author  expected.  It 
always,  in  some  particulars,  disappoints  calculations.  The  state  of 
the  public  mind,  the  accidental  prominence  of  certain  topics,  the 
abeyance  of  ancient  prejudices,  the  caprices  of  popular  passions, 
the  vrhims  of  the  nevrspaper  press,  and  a  thousand  other  contingen- 
ces,  may  essentially  modify  its  influence.  No  doubt,  if  the  secret 
antici])ations  of  writers  themselves  could  be  known,  the  reading 
world  would  often  be  amazed  at  the  difference  between  their 
thoughts  and  hopes  before  and  after  the  appearance  of  their  works. 

The  present  memoir  suggests  and  illustrates  these  sentiments. 
It  has,  probably,  done  as  much  for  the  permanent  reputation  of 
Sydney  Smith  as  Sydney  Smith  himself  did  for  it;  and,  moreover, 
it  has  made  him  favourably  known  to  thousands,  who  otherwise 
would  never  have  associated  his  name  with  anything  great  and 
good.  The  world  derived  its  impressions  of  the  man  cither  from 
the  report  of  his  famous  criticisms  in  the  Edinburgh  lleview.  or 
from  his  brilliant  conversations.  Although  he  was  m.ost  cordially 
and  honourably  appreciated  by  the  leaders  of  fashion  and  the 
oracles  of  taste,  yet.  during  his  lifetime,  his  talents  wore  more  a 
matter  of  notoriety  than  of  desirable  reputation.  Outside  of  his 
own  circle  he  was  feared  rather  than  loved;  and  what  Sydney 
Smith  could  do.  by  means  of  his  trenchant  pen,  always  took  pre- 
cedence in  men's  thoughts  of  Avhat  Sydney  Smith  was.  But  these 
volumes  have  created  new  sympathies  with  him.  Aristocratic 
families,  lords  and  ladies,  can  give  a  man  of  talent  and  sprightlincss 
no  small  share  of  distinction  in  English  society:  and  luxurious 
dinners,  at  which  refinement  and  elegance  crown  the  board,  and 
every  one.  by  the  terms  of  common  politeness,  is  under  obligations  to 
be  pleased,  may  easily  afford  a  passport  to  a  certain  sort  of  intellectual 
position.  But  all  the  Holland  houses  of  England  could  not  confer 
such  lustre  on  the  name  of  Sydney  Smith  as  these  volumes.  Wo 
have  in  them  the  real,  genuine,  earnest  man— the  domestic  heart, 
the  sacrificing  life,  the  broad  and  massive  foundations,  on  which 
influence  and  fame  can  only  be  built. 


406  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

The  present  memoir  gives  us  a  distinct,  palpable  idea  of  the  man; 
unfolds  his  life  in  all  its  struggles  and  achievements ;  presents  its  va- 
ried and  striking  aspects ;  enters  minutely  into  his  characteristics  of 
mind  and  manner ;  and  leaves  us,  at  the  close  of -the  book,  ^vith  a  com- 
plete realization  of  uhat  Sydney  Smith  was  at  the  fire-side,  on  the 
farm,  among  his  parishioners,  in  London,  or  wherever  else  inclination 
or  duty  took  him.  Sydney  himself  is  the  central  figure  in  every 
scene.  "^Mjcthcr  the  hour  is  serious  or  comical ;  whether  he  is 
dining  with  lords  and  ladies,  or  preaching  to  "  West-Enuians ;'' 
whether  tugging  through  the  mud  of  Yorkshire,  or  M-alking  in  the 
magnificent  saloons  that  welcomed  him  as  their  favourite  guest; 
whether  practising  "Bunch,"  "Annie  Kay,"  or  "Jack  Robinson," 
or  driving  thunderbolts  at  gigantic  abuses,  Sydney  Smith  is  up 
in  full  proportions  before  you.  The  image  of  the  man  is  soon 
caught,  and  never  afterward  have  you  to  correct  it.  Is'ow  and  then 
it  has  a  passing  shadow;  now  and  then,  a  little  brighter  hue;  but  it 
keeps  its  form  and  lineaments  most  distinctly  in  your  eye.  The 
man's  uniformity  was  remarkable ;  and  the  memoir  is  remarkable  in 
its  portraiture.  Once  possessed  of  the  key-note  of  his  character,  you 
are  thenceforth  exempt  from  any  liability  to  surprise.  The  strange 
combinations  of  his  acute  intellect;  its  marvellous  waywardness, 
that  seems  to  be  as  much  reduced  to  rule  as  if  it  were  a  logical 
power ;  its  unannounced  descent  on  some  luckless  archbishop  ;  its 
facile  swiftness  in  probing  a  pompous  speculation ;  all  these  will 
come  upon  you  unawares,  and  delight  you  by  the  endless  recurrence 
of  novelty.  But  the  man  himself  never  moves  an  inch  from  the 
position  where  nature  has  put  him;  and  throughout  the  memoir, 
Sydney  Smith  means  exactly  the  same  measure  of  intelligence,  wit, 
and  heartiness. 

Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  romantic  than  Sydney  Smith's 
life.  It  had  none  of  those  startling  incidents  and  exciting  events 
that  strike  the  imngination,  and  tliat  so  frequently  disguise  tlie  real 
interests  of  human  existence  beneath  an  artificial  drapery;  and  yet, 
his  career  appeals  to  the  imagination,  and  awakens  feelings  above 
the  common  level  of  experience.  His  boyhood  opens  at  Woodford, 
in  Essex,  England  ;  and  your  first  glance  at  his  home  touches  a  cord 
of  merriment.  The  father,  Mr.  Robert  Smith,  is  odd  enough  for 
the  frontispiece  of  a  comic  almanac;  and  he  holds  fast  to  his  oddi- 
ties with  such  delightful  pertinacity,  that  you  suspect  him  of  enjoy- 
ing them  much  more  than  did  his  family.  By  Avay  of  contrast,  he 
dresses  in  professional  drab,  and  surmounts  his  head  with  a  hat 
that  isolates  this  Mr.  Smith  from  all  other  Smiths  in  the  land  of  the 
livin<i'.     What  was  left  of  his  inventive  genius  after  its  efforts  on 


185G.]  Sydnetj  Smith.  407 

dress,  seems  to  have  been  expended  on  arcliitecturc,  considered  as 
a  wasteful  art;  for  wc  are  informed  that,  ia  tiiis  particular,  he  "was 
successful  in  "  bu3-ing,  altering,  spoiling,  and  then  selling,  about 
nineteen  different  places  in  England."  House- building  and  house- 
changing  being  costly  whims,  Mr.  Smith  lost  a  small  fortune  in 
their  gratification.  Despite  of  these  crotchets,  he  must  have  been  a 
sensible  man  in  some  things,  as  he  married  a  noble  girl,  Miss  Olicr, 
daughter  of  ?»I.  Olier,  a  French  einigrant  from  Langucdoc.  The 
few  glimpses  that  we  have  of  the  Woodford  household,  as  it  was 
three  quarters  of  a  century  since,  show  the  stalwart  man  in  his 
Quaker  dress,  and  beside  him  a  fair  and  beautiful  woman,  whose 
bright  face  lit  up  the  walls,  and  kept  sunshine  always  in  the 
dwelling.  The  graces  of  womanhood,  that  are  lovelier  than  form 
or  feature,  were  preserved  in  their  freshness ;  and  the  home  never 
wanted  charm  of  mind  and  manner  so  long  as  she  lived.  Around 
this  eccentric  Englishman  and  his  interesting  Erench  wife — the 
vivacity  and  SAvcetness  of  the  one,  framed  in  the  grotesque  carv- 
ing of  the  others  temperament  and  habits — are  four  boys  and  a 
girl,  Avho  evince  decided  symptoms  of  strong,  sturdy,  brilliant 
charact*.  The  father  called  the  four  sons  "  an  intolerable  and 
overbearing  set  of  boys;"  but  the  mother  read  prophecies  in  them 
that  one  day  vrere  to  be  fulfilled.  She  toiled  with  thoin  as  well  as 
for  them ;  striving  sincerely  and  faithfully  to  infuse  a  salutary, 
moral  sentiment  into  their  hearts.  Her  letters  to  them  at  school 
must  have  been  unusually  attractive ;  for  we  are  told  that  their 
school-fellows  would  gather  around  them  when  they  had  a  letter 
from  their  mother,  and  beg  to  have  it  read  aloud.  'J'hc  best  traits 
of  the  Huguenot  mother  descended  to  Sydney ;  and  our  only  regret 
is,  that  more  of  her  character  and  history  is  not  recorded.  The 
few  hints  are  sufficient,  however,  to  indicate  that  she  was  a  charm- 
ing person;  and,  amid  the  dim  outlining  of  her  intellectual  and 
moral  ([ualities.  her  social  gentleness  and  domestic  sweetness,  it  is 
more  than  a  pastime  of  fancy  to  follow  the  career  of  her  distin- 
guished son,  and  attribute  this  virtue,  or  that  brave  endeavour  to 
befriend  oppressed  innocence,  to  the  impress  which  she  stampcil 
upon  him.  All  through  his  life,  we  think  that  we  can  trace  her 
presence.  His  regard  for  women  was  one  of  his  strongest  charac- 
teristics; and,  delighting  in  their  society,  he  yielded  the  richest 
treasures  of  his  mind  to  them.  jS'evcr  was  he  more  himself  than 
when  he  had  them  as  a  group  of  listeners;  and  if  ever  his  rapid 
play  of  cross-lights  was  carried  on  more  dazzlingly  than  usual,  and 
his  wit  was  more. winning  and  sportive,  it  was  \\hen  some  of  his 
favourites  among  the  sex  ministered  a  pleasant  provocation  to  his 


408  Si/dney  S7nit}i.  [July, 

clastic  spirit.  One  of  the  earliest  and  foremost  champions  of 
female  education,  he  contributed  greatly  to  form  a  liberal  and  noble 
public  sentiment  on  this  subject ;  and  still  faithful  to  the  stirrings 
of  his  Huguenot  blood,  he  touched  the  hidden  nerves  of  England's 
heart  by  Peter  Plymley's  Letters.  Thus,  at  intervals,  the  noble 
mother  reappears  in  the  noble  son ;  and  thus  the  childhood,  -which 
she  lived  long  enough— happily  for  the  ^vorld — to  train  and  bless, 
bore  her  simplicity  and  beauty  onward,  through  manhood  and  age, 
to  the  grave. 

Sydney  was  sent  to  ^Vinchester  College,  where  he  distinguished 
himself  for  Latin  verses,  and  gained  a  captainship.  Thence  he 
Avas  removed  to  x\ew  College,  Oxford,  of  which  he  became  a  fellow. 
His  industry,  scholarship,  and  popularity  were,  at  this  early  age, 
sufficient  to  attract  attention.  Economical  and  prudent  in  whatever 
related  to  his  own  expenses,  he  was  generous  and  kind  to  others, 
stinting  himself  to  save  means  for  their  assistance.  On  leaving 
Oxford,  he  was  inclined  to  study  law;  but  he  was  overruled  by  his 
father,  and  consigned  to  the  Church.  It  was  a  business  arrange- 
ment, a  movement  for  professional  position.  There  is  nothing  to 
indicate  that  he  was  conscious  of  any  particular  call  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  or  that  Providence  prompted  his  step  in  this  direction;  but 
it  is  not  for  us  to  pronounce  a  judgment.  All  that  we  dare  speak 
of  is  what  appears  on  the  surface:  and  beneath  that  surface  the 
Holy  Spirit  may  have  wrought  its  work.  The  footsteps  of  charity 
must  tread  lightly  on  ground  sacred  to  God. 

The  scenes  of  his  clerical  life  open  in  the  midst  of  Salis- 
bury Plain.  There  is  a  religious  poem  in  the  words — Salisbury 
Plain ;  and  there  rise  before  us  at  the  instant,  beckoned  from  the 
past,  the  saintly  images  of  one  Avho  made  Barley  Wood  a  shrine  for 
pious  pilgrims ;  and  of  another — the  trusting,  loving,  heavenward- 
looking  "  Shepherd"' — who  saw  the  darkest  cloud  lie  serenelv  in  the 
hollow  of  the  same  firmament,  that  had  the  day  before  irradiated  its 
snow-like  mass,  and  found  a  benediction  ever  present  in  the  thouiiht? 
of  reconciliation  and  peace,  that  Christianity  had  written  on  every 
object  around  him.  But  to  Sydney  Smith  it  was  simple  Salisbury 
Plain.  It  was  a  dreary  place,  forlorn  enough  to  try  the  stout  heart 
of  the  hero ;  for  the  inventory,  all  told,  consisted  of  a  village,  most 
humble  in  pretension — people,  who  had  inherited  poverty,  and  pre- 
served their  inlieritance  far  better  than  is  common  among  heirs — 
and  potatoes,  denied  the  luxury  of  catchup.  Imagine  the  curate  in 
this  new  world;  and  surely  it  is  no  fancilul  chain  of  circumstances, 
that  binds  the  experience  of  the  half-starved  Winchester  boy  to  the 
experience  of  the  "  Pauper  Pastor"  of  Salisbury  Plain.    Fortunately 


1856.]  Sydneij  Smith.  409 

for  the  curate,  he  had  a  stomach  that  rejoiced  in  a  sense  of  better 
days  in  reserve  ;  and,  still  more  fortunately,  Salisbury  Plain  had  a 
squire,  that  enacted,  in  real  life,  some  of  the  gracious  deeds  that 
cluster,  in  English  literature,  around  this  noted  personage.  The 
squire  engaged  him  as  tutor  to  his  son ;  and  forthwith  he  set  out 
for  Germany  -with  his  charge.  The  misfortunes  of  Salisbury 
Plain  seemed  to  folloTV  their  steps ;  the  continent  -was  disturbed  by 
M-ar,  and  thus,  driven  home  again,  he  put  into  Edinburgh  "  in  stress 
of  politics." 

It  was  an  event  in  his  life ;  it  was,  indeed,  an  era,  from  which 
he  dated  a  new  history.  "  1797 ;  twenty-six  years  of  age ;  arrived 
in  modern  Athens  with  young  Mr.  Beach;"  are  worthy  of  capitals 
in  his  diary.  So  it  proved  to  be.  If  a  momentai-y  episode  were 
allowable,  one  can  imagine  how  he  would  have  fared,  intellectually, 
in  that  region  of  the  world,  bordering  on  "  Cloud-Land."  But  the 
companionship  of  Kant's  countrymen  was  denied  him ;  and,  instead 
of  the  realm  of '"  pure  reason,"  he  trod  the  firm  soil  of  Scotland. 
It  was  just  the  place  and  the  time  for  him.  The  surge  of  the 
French  llevolution  was  then  rolling  over  Europe,  and  men  every- 
where, if  they  were,  happily,  beyond  its  fury,  felt  the  swell  of  its 
billows. 

About  half  a  century  before  this  eventful  period,  Wesley  and 
Whitefield,  reading  the  signs  of  the  times,  though  not  yet  written 
in  blood,  and  feeling  their  hearts  strangely  stirred  to  preach  the 
Gospel  of  the  Crucified,  went  forth  to  rouse  the  conscience  and  ani- 
mate the  life  of  their  country.  Viewed  with  reference  to  subsequent 
facts,  a  more  remarkable  instance  of  Providence  has  never  been  wit- 
nessed. It  was  Providence,  as  an  agency  of  interposition.  It  was 
Providence,  directing  the  great  Christian  thought  of  the  day  to  the 
precise  point  where  the  volcanic  elements  of  England  were  concen- 
trated; and  teaching  Christian  philanthropy  how  their  frightful 
explosion  miglit  be  avoided.  The  working  masses,  that  in  Franco 
had  upheaved  the  foundations  of  social  and  political  order,  had  in 
England  been,  to  a  certain  extent,  brought  imder  religious  influence. 
Wesley  and  Whitefield,  the  chosen  pioneers  of  this  wonderful 
reformation,  had  been  successful  in  awakening  others  to  realize 
the  magnitude  of  the  work ;  and,  apart  from  their  immediate  ad- 
herents, men  and  women  of  prominence  in  the  Established  Church 
had  participated  in  the  movement.  The  position  of  the  lower  and 
middle  classes  of  society  in  England,  toward  the  close  of  the  last 
century,  was  fiivourable  to  the  permanence  of  her  institutions  •,  and 
while  \t  presents  a  striking  contrast  to  the  condition  of  similar 
classes  in  France,  it  shows  the  simple  power  of  the  Cospel  to  provide 

FouRTU  Series,  Vol.  Vlll.— 26 


410  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

a  barrier  against  the  desolating  tide  of  barbarism.  How  many 
guardian  angels  were  then  abroad  in  that  fair  isle !  The  songs  of 
Cowper  and  iSiewton  were  sung  in  many  a  wayside  cottage;  the 
touching  narratives  of  Leigh  Richmond  and  Hannah  More  were 
instructing  the  body  of  the  people  in  the  conservative  principles  of 
social  and  political  life ;  Bunyan  and  Baxter  had  returned  to  the 
homes  and  hearts  of  men;  open-air  preaching  had  diffused  the 
knov.lcdge  of  Christ;  neglected  povert}-  had  been  cheered  and 
comforted ;  gloomy  coal-pits  had  been  converted  into  sanctuaries ; 
and,  for  the  first  time  since  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.,  England  was 
penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  earnest  and  sincere  piety.  Owing  to 
these  causes  and  others  it  was  that  England,  while  she  could  not 
but  feel  the  tremendous  shock  that  then  reverberated  throughout 
the  civilized  world,  was  yet,  happily,  able  to  stand  firm  on  her  an- 
cient foundations.  The  relation  that  her  intellect,  no  less  than  her 
national  authority,  sustained  to  the  dreadful  contest,  was  sufEeient 
to  intensify  her  interest  in  the  result.  Grave  men  were  made 
graver ;  and  philosophers  suddenly  outgrew  the  cherished  theories 
of  a  lifetime.  I^ever  but  once,  in  the  hi.story  of  modern  civilisation, 
had  mind  been  so  quickly  and  profoundly  moved ;  and  never  had 
circumstances  so  singularl}--  conspired  to  bring  under  solemn  review 
all  that  mankind  had  been  accustomed  to  venerate. 

It  was  at  this  critical  period  that  Sydney  Smith  began  his  career 
in  Edinburgh,  then  the  most  intellectual  city  in  Europe.  Intellect 
and  power — such  intellect  and  power  as  Brougham,  Horner,  Jeffre}^ 
and  riayfair  had — were  gathered  there;  and,  behind  them,  impulse 
was  in  waiting  for  the  auspicious  moment  when  it  could  project  them 
upon  the  world.  That  moment  came.  Smith  proposed  a  Review ; 
Jeffrey  and  Brougham  acceded;  and  ere  long,  the  first  number, 
prepared  under  Sydney's  oversight,  made  its  appearance.  It  soon 
made  its  mark.  Fresh  in  topics  and  forcible  in  style,  resolute  in 
purpose  and  dra-ing  in  spirit,  it  went  to  work,  as  if  work  were 
•enthusiasm  and  grandeur  as  well  as  labour  and  duty ;  and  command- 
ing all  the  resources  within  reach,  and  disciplining  them  into  moat 
.•admirable  and  efficient  service,  the  new  comer  grasped  the  public  mind 
■with  an  energy  and  completeness  that  have  rarely  been  known  in 
literature.  The  intelligent,  aspiring,  advancing  intellect  of  the  day, 
■and  especially  the  political  and  social  representatives  of  that  intel- 
'lect,  made  it  their  organ.  Corruptions  were  attacked  when  corrup- 
tion was  respectable;  false  and  pernicious  usages  were  exposed; 
bad  laws  were  assailed,  and  bad  men  unmasked ;  reform  was  thun- 
dered from  Dan  to  Beersheba;  English  rule  and  English  polity  were 
•laid  bare  for  inspection ;  and  cancerous  sores  were  held  up  under 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  411 

men's  eyes  until  they  shrank  from  the  loathsome  sight.  One  by  one, 
its  objects  ^vcre  attained.  Public  opinion  Avas  thoroughly  aroused; 
and  Parliament  addressed  itself,  in  good  earnest,  to  the  removal  of 
abuses  and  the  correction  of  errors.  No  Picvicw  ever  exerted  such 
influence,  and  contributed  so  many  important  benefits  to  the  politi- 
cal and  social  interests  of  the  community  on  -^vhich  it  acted.  It 
was  a  form  of  statesmanship  that  the  world  had  not  previously 
known,  and  to  it  England  is  largely  indebted  for  its  present 
degree  of  freedom  and  prosperity.  W  hatever  were  its  imperfections 
and  evils,  the  Edinburgh  Review  deserves  the  credit  of  having  made 
the  power  of  the  press  more  of  a  practical  thing  than  it  had  before 
been;  and  of  infusing  a  direct,  pungent,  courageous  spirit  into 
learning,  scholarship,  and  genius.  A  great  part  of  its  success  is 
due  to  Sydney  Smith.  Aside  from  his  own  contributions,  in  which 
the  bold  and  telling  qualities  of  his  mind  had  such  masterly  scope,  he 
was  of  peculiar  service  to  the  men  who  were  connected  with  its 
pages.  He  restrained  their  erratic  tendencies ;  he  neutralized  many 
of  their  objectionable  elements.  Fearless  and  hearty,  he  was  still 
considerate,  self-balanced,  and  temperate.  The  temper  of  the  day 
could  not  betray  him  into  excessive  rashness,  nor  could  he  be 
diverted  into  romantic  speculations.  If  he  loved  principle,  he  had 
no  patience  with  the  philosophic  humours  that  would  strain  it  to 
attenuated  fceblcTiess.  By  his  watchfulness  the  Review  was  guarded 
against  infidel  doctrines ;  by  his  sustained  earnestness,  it  was  kept 
steady  on  the  path  marked  out  for  its  line  of  movement;  by  his  strong 
English  tone  of  thought — his  athletic  style,  his  muscular  soul,  living 
and  bounding  in  all  he  wrote— he  commended  it  to  England's 
reflective,  administrative  mind,  and  secured  it  a  bearing  where, 
otherwise,  it  might  have  gone  unheeded. 

Another  field  now  opened.  Edinburgh  had  brought  him  into 
notice,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a  great  reputation.  Here,  too,  he 
had  attracted  attention,  as  an  occasional  preacher  at  Bishop  San- 
ford's  chapel ;  and  also  formed  those  associations,  which,  in  after- 
life, were  so  faithfully  appreciated  and  honoured.  Meanwhile,  he 
had  married  Miss  Pybus,  of  England.  His  functions  as  a  tutor 
had  ceased,  and  his  income  terminated. 

"  It  was  lucky,"  remarks  Lady  Holland,  '•'  that  Miss  I'ybus  had 
some  fortune ;  for  my  father's  only  contribution  toward  their  future 
.  menn^e  (save  his  own  talents  and  character)  were  six  small  silver 
tea-spoons,  which,  from  much  wear,  had  become  the  ghosts  of  their 
former  selves.  One  day,  in  the  madness  of  his  joy,  he  came  nnining 
into  the  room,  and  flung  these  into  her  lap,  saying,  '  There,  Kate, 
you  lucky  girl,  I  give  you  all  my  fortune !'" 


412  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

The  devotC'.l  Avifo  was  a  clear-sighted  ■woman.  She  saw  the 
capacity  of  her  husband,  and  ur^eJ  him  to  settle  in  London. 
Yielding  to  her  urgent  wishes,  he  loft  Edinburgh,  and  commenced 
house-keeping  in  the  capital.  His  wife's  costly  necklace  was  sold, 
and  the  proceeds  furnished  a  house.  The  pressure  of  circumstances 
was  heavy;  but  keeping  his  heart  light  and  hands  active,  cheered 
by  the  smile  of  a  noble  and  tender  wife,  and  never  ceasing  to  trust 
the  fortunes  of  the  future,  he  struggled  .-:cadily  and  bravely  to  pro- 
vide for  the  wants  of  an  increasing  household,  and  discharge  the 
growing  responsibilities  of  life.  It  was  a  fierce  battle  with  poverty, 
and  all  that  poverty  means  to  a  sensitive,  honourable  nature.  His 
brother  Robert  assisted  him ;  and  he  became  morning  preacher  at 
John-street,  Berkley  Square.  Then  followed  the  chaplaincy  to 
the  Foundling  Hospital,  with  a  salary  of  -C50  per  annum.  Friends 
now  began  to  multiply.  Holland  House  recognised  his  merits,  and 
welcomed  him  among  its  chosen  guests.  Lords  and  ladies  listened 
to  charming  stories  of  the  versatile  gifts  of  the  man;  and  Whig 
leaders  lavished  on  him  the  cheap  patronage  of  kind  words  and  fine 
dinners.  A  short  time  after,  he  delivered  his  Lectures  on  floral 
Philosophy  at  the  Royal  Institution,  Avhich  were  most  favourably 
received.  The  circumstances,  the  audience,  the  subjects,  were  such 
as  suited  the  varied  })Owers  of  Sydney  Smith ;  and  feeling,  doubt- 
less, that  he  had  reached  a  turning-point  in  his  career,  no  pains 
were  spared,  no  tact  left  inactive,  that  could  assist  impression.  It 
was  not  an  occasion  to  slip  through  his  fingers.  He  made  the  best 
of  the  opportunity ;  and  the  joint  product  of  the  man  and  his  chances 
were  money  enough  to  furnish  a  new  house  in  Orchard-street,  and 
reputation  sufficient  to  sati.sfy  a  moderate  ambition.  Speaking  of 
these  lectures,  Mr.  Horner  said:  "Nobody  else,  to  be  sure,  could 
have  executed  such  an  undertaking  with  the  least  chance  of  success ; 
for  who  could  make  such  a  mixture  of  odd  paradox,  quaint  fun, 
manly  sense,  liberal  opinions,  and  striking  language?"  Few  lec- 
tures will  compare  with  them.  We  have  read  productions  of  this 
class  more  profound  in  abstractions,  and  with  more  breadth  of 
thought ;  but  none  that  measure  so  exactly  to  the  true  standard  of 
the  lecture.  There  is  originality  to  stimulate;  and  deep,  searching 
reflectiveness  attends  it.  There  are  quick,  sharp  glances  ;  and  there 
are  calm,  fixed  contemplations.  A  vital  newness,  that  one  would 
never  look  for  in  the  topics  of  moral  philosophy :  a  total  absence  of 
the  buckram  and  mannerisms  of  the  schools;  a  delicate  apprecia- 
tion of  dignity,  without  its  slavish  stiffnesses;  a  cordial  homage  to 
beauty,  truth,  and  goodness,  with  no  taint  of  modish  affectation; 
sparkUng  wit  and  flowing  humour;  warm  feeUngs  and  energetic  Intel- 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  413 

lect,  have  secured  for  these  pages  a  just  claim  on  that  much-abused 
title,  Lectures  for  the  People.  It  would  be  well,  if  at  this  time  of 
lecture-mania,  the  true  idea  of  lectures,  as  Sydney  Smith  embodied 
it,  could  be  studied  and  apprehended.  A  lecture  has  its  own  stand- 
point, and  surely  it  ought  to  be  maintained.  It  is  not  an  essay,  nor 
a  disquisition ;  it  is  not  a  sermon,  disrobed  of  its  pulpit  dress,  nor 
a  pamphlet  without  printer's  ink  an-d  paper  binding.  Looks  have 
their  province ;  so  have  lectures.  Outside  of  colleges  and  univer- 
sities, people  attend  lectures  to  gain  instant  benefit ;  to  enjoy  ready- 
made  instruction;  to  get  thoughts  that  strike  the  nerves  of  the 
brain,  and  thrill  inspiration  all  through  them.  If  popular  lectures 
are  to  have  position  and  influence,  they  ought  to  become  auxiliary  to 
the  growth  of  mind,  in  the  direction  that  mind  moves,  wlienever  it 
seeks  oral  knowledge ;  and  hence,  nothing  is  clearer  than  that  they 
should  obey  the  instincts  of  the  speaking  intellect,  and  consult  the 
relation  of  their  audience  simply  as  hearers.  They  nnist  be  more 
than  talking  editors,  handling  the  topics  of  the  day  with  prompt 
despatch;  and  more  than  stump- orators,  touching  great  principles 
as  if  logic  and  rhetoric  had  no  other  end  than  applause.  There  is 
a  heart  in  the  wisdom  of  the  age,  that  literature  cannot  give  to  the 
world,  and  it  is  this,  that  lecturers,  as  living  men,  ought  to  throb 
into  the  souls  of  the  listening  crowd.  What  has  eloquence  yet  done 
for  many  of  the  grandest  topics  of  the  day?  What  has  it  effected 
for  the  higher  interests  of  men,  in  connexion  with  Labour,  Businees, 
Commerce,  Art,  Brotherhood,  and  Litcrnational  Polity?  If  the 
eloquence  of  the  pulpit,  of  the  bar,  and  of  statesmanship  ex- 
cepted, the  noblest  thoughts  of  mankind,  its  latest  and  richest 
culture,  its  ripest  and  mellowest  fruitage,  are  awaiting  that  full 
and  forcible  expression,  which  the  best  speech,  under  the  best  cir- 
cumstances, alone  can  give. 

But  where  is  Sydney  Smith?  We  left  him  in  the  enjoyment  of 
his  laurels,  as  a  lecturer  in  the  Royal  institution;  and.  forsooth,  as 
these  laurels  were  well-earned,  and  well-worn,  a  little  retirement,  to 
receive  congratulations,  may  not  have  been  unwelcome.  Moral 
Philosophy  had  carpeted,  seated,  and  adorned  a  new  house.  Moral 
Philosophy  had  brightened  a  domestic  fireside,  and  cheered  a 
struggling  household.  Moral  Philosophy  had  demonstrated  to 
London  that  Sydney  Smith  was  something  more  than  a  brilliant 
conversationist  and  a  sharp  reviewer.  It  was  a  season  for  a  quiet 
festival  of  sentiment  and  hope.  but.  nevertheless,  there  was  no  regu- 
lar employment ;  the  whole  land  had  not  a  furrow  in  which  seed  for 
future  harvests  were  germinating ;  each  day  rose  over  the  horizon 
with  a  suspicious  face ;  and  it  was  more  than  doubtful  if  Moral 


414  .  Sydney  Smitfi.  [July, 

Philosophy  would  furnish  bread  <and  clothing  for  wife  and  children. 
The  king  read  his  reviews,  and  said,  "  he  was  a  .very  clever 
fellow,  but  he  would  never  be  a  bishop."  The  statement  and 
the  prophecy  were  both  true.  The  "  very  clever  fellow '^  went  light- 
footed  on,  braving  his  circumstances,  waiting  patiently,  practising  no 
pretence,  despising  shams,  giving  dinners  to  the  wealthy,  who  were 
his  friends,  on  a  single  dish ;  and  rising  triumphantly  above  the  social 
embarrassments  that  torture  men  of  pride  and  poverty.  It  was  now  the 
year  1S06,  and  he  was  thirty-five  years  of  age.  Preferment  came  in 
the  shape  of  a  living  at  Foston  le  Clay,  in  Yorkshire.  It  was  not  an  at- 
tractive place;  it  had  sufiered  from  ecclesiastical  neglect  for  a  century 
and  a  half;  but  Sydney  Smith  took  hold  of  it,  as  his  habit  was,  in 
downright  earnestness,  determined  to  draw  from  it  all  the  joy  that 
it  contained.  "Master  Smith,"  said  the  superannuated  clerk  of 
Foston,  "it  often  stroikes  my  moind,  that  people  as  comes  from 
London  is  such  fools."  That  shot  missed  the  mark.  "  Master 
Smith"  was  no  fool,  either  in  Yorkshire  or  London.  Despite  of  all 
manner  of  unpromising  circumstances,  he  dedicated  himself  to  the 
work  in  hand ;  and  wherever  ingenuity  could  find  or  make  an  open- 
ing for  any  sort  of  usefulness,  there  he  was,  in  stirring  activity  and 
generous  enterprise.  He  had  studied  medicine  in  Edinburgh,  think- 
ing it  would  render  hiin  more  serviceable  as  a  pastor  ;  and  his  fore- 
sight was  now  confirmed.  -A  droll  doctor  was  he,  original  in  terms 
as  well  as  in  practice;  but  overflowing  with  kindness,  forbearance, 
and  gentleness  for  his  poor  parishioners. 

Foston  le  Clay,  as  any  common  man  would  have  literalized  its 
homely  scenes,  and  Foston  le  Clay,  as  Sydney  Smith  conferred  the 
charms  of  his  own  radiant  temper  on  it,  were  about  as  opposite 
places  as  one  could  well  imagine.  The  poetic  power,  by  which  we 
spread  an  illusory  interest  over  objects,  is  rarely  able  to  maintain 
its  glow ;  and  the  heart,  weary  of  a  visionary  ideal,  pants  for  some- 
thing more  substanti.-il.  It  is  otherwise  vdth  that  cheerfulness  of 
disposition,  the  gift  of  nature  improved  by  culture,  which  reflects 
its  own  image  on  everything,  and  creates  a  world  of  blessedness 
out  of  the  most  scanty  materials.  Happiness,  like  wealth,  comes 
from  little  things,  and  swells  its  stores,  by  steady  contributions, 
from  a  thousand  sources.  Why  should  wc  specify  its  resemblance. 
in  this  particular,  to  wealth  ?  Wisdom  follows  the  same  law :  and 
even  character,  the  highest  attainment  of  our  inward  being,  is 
dependent  on  the  same  principle.  The  insignificant  wears  divine 
honours,  and  fulfils  the  grandest  purposes  of  Providence.  Few 
men,  in  this  respect,  have  been  as  finely  constituted  as  Sydney 
Smith.     "I  am  not  leading  precisely  the  life  I  should  choose," 


1856.]  STjdney  Smith.  415 

wrote  he  to  Lady  Holland,  "but  I  am  resolved  to  like  it;  which  is 
more  manly  than  to  feigu  myself  above  it,  and  to  send  up  complaints 
by  the  post  of  bein^  thrown  away,  and  being  desolate,  and  such  like 
trash."  These  words  utter  a  manly  nature  ;  and,  in  their  spirit,  he 
strove  to  make  the  best  of  the  circumstances  surrounding  his  lot. 
The  pictures  of  his  home  life,  at  Foston  Ic  Clay,  are  exceedingly 
interesting.  All  his  pleasantness  and  drollery  appear  in  the 
arrangements  of  his  farm,  and  the  management  of  domestic  incidents. 
Everything  is  done  after  the  style  of  Sydney  Smith.  Emergencies 
provoked  strange  devices,  and  common  matters  were  thrown  into  a 
grotesque  shape.  The  arehitectm-e  of  his  house  abounded  in  laugh- 
able peculiarities ;  and  then  the  endless  inventions  1  It  was  a  minia- 
ture patent-office,  in  which  skill  and  humour  vied  with  each  other. 
-His  green  chariot,  known  as  the  "Immortal,"  was  the  wonder  of 
the  neighbourhood ;  and  the  horse,  "  Calamity,"  was  a  still  greater 
marvel.  The  servants,  "Bunch,"  and  "Jack  Robinson,"  afTurdcd 
constant  amusement ;  and  whenever  Sydney  wanted  a  domestic 
comedy,  "  Bunch  was  always  ready  to  give  an  entertainment."  But 
his  gayety  was  not  insensibility.  IS* o  man  had  a  kinder,  warmer 
heart ;  and  whenever  misery  was  to  be  relieved,  or  any  other  duty 
discharged,  he  was  faithful  to  the  obligations  of  his  clerical  post. 
Subsequently  to  this  time  his  circumstances  improved;  an  aunt  left 
him  a  legacy,  and  the  living  of  Londesborough  was  added  to  his 
income.  Lord  Lyndhurst  presented  him  with  a  vacant  stall  at 
Bristol;  and  here  he  preached  a  sermon  on  ISIovember  5th,  1S2S, 
so  "intolerably  tolerant,"  that  the  mayor  and  corporation  "could 
scarcely  keep  the  turtle  on  their  stomachs."  Foston  was  soon  after 
exchanged  for  Combe  Florey,  in  Somersetshire.  A  change  in  poli- 
tics now  brought  the  Whigs  into  power,  and  none  had  a  better  claim 
to  be  remembered  than  Sydney  Smith;  for  none  had  rendered 
greater  services  than  he  to  the  liberal  party.  Standing  alone  in 
his  profession,  ho  had  been  loyal  to  principle,  Axhcn  principle  v,-as 
but  another  name  for  sacrifice  and  neglect ;  giving  his  great  powers, 
in  simple  integrity  and  a  martyr-like  devotion,  to  the  struggling 
interests  of  freedom,  and  seeking  no  recompense  but  the  approba- 
tion of  his  own  heart.  But  merit  is  sure  of  final  victory.  Lord 
Grey  gave  him  a  prebendal  stall  at  St.  Paul's  in  lf^i'.l ;  a  few  years 
after  his  brother  bequeathes  his  propert}'  to  him  ;  and  he  settles 
down  in  comfort  for  life.  While  canon  of  St.  Paul's,  he  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  attention  to  business  no  less  than  by  literary 
efforts.  The  resolute  steward  attended  personally  and  closely  to 
his  duties,  familiarized  himself  with  every  minute  matter,  checked 
extravagance,  resisted  and  overpowered  corruption.    "  1  find  traces 


416  Sydney  Smith.  [Julj, 

of  him,"  remarks  tho  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  "in  every  particular  of 
chapter  affairs;  and  on  every  occasion,  ^vhere  his  hand  appears,  I 
find  stronger  reason  for  respecting  his  sound  judgment,  knowledge 
of  business,  and  activity  of  mind ;  above  all,  the  perfcot  fidelity  of 
his  stewardship."  It  was  at  this  stage  of  his  ecclesiastical  life  that 
he  wrote  his  Letters  to  Archdeacon  Singleton,  and  the  Pamplilet  on 
the  Dallot.  Age  was  now  upon  him.  Amid  the  delightful  scenes 
of  the  Somersetihiro  parsonage,  vrhero  his  exuberant  good-nature 
was  ever  active  in  some  office  of  hospitality,  or  in  responding  to 
some  plea  of  philanthropy,  his  life  drew  toward  its  end.  "  Thank 
God  for  Combe  Florcy  I"  was  his  frequent  exclamation.  And  well 
might  he  be  thankful ;  for  no  English  home  had  more  serene  joyous- 
ness  within  its  walls,  or  a  more  sunny  landscape  around.  In  lS4-i 
he  began  to  fail.  Pie  declined  rapidly  in  the  autumn ;  and  in  the 
following  year  his  career  on  earth  closed. 

Reviewing  the  history  of  this  remarkable  man,  we  find  it  dilEcult 
to  give  a  just  degree  of  prominence  to  the  various  and  peculiar 
qualities  that  characterized  him.  At  one  moment,  he  appears  the 
soundest,  shrewdest,  and  most  sensible  of  all  his  contemporaries. 
We  see  his  sagacity  instructing,  and  his  courage  inspiring  them ; 
and,  in  the  glow  of  admiration  which  such  a  strongly-nerved  intel- 
lect awakens,  we  pause  to  contemplate  Sydney  Smith  as  worthy  to 
sustain  the  leadership  of  the  liberal  intellect  of  the  day.  At 
another  moment,  he  passes  before  us  intent  on  some  wondrous 
exploit  in  the  way  of  demolishing  a  gigantic  sham,  or  hurling  his 
Ithuricl's  spear  into  the  heart  of  a  huge  imposition.  Another 
glance,  and  he  is  probing  dignitaries  to  the  core,  and  fiercely 
assailing  the  evils  of  his  own  Church.  Then  follows  an  outburst 
of  indignation,  that  scarcely  moves  you  to  scorn  before  your 
muscles  relax  in  irresistible  laughter.  The  rapid  transitions 
go  on  as  if  he  were  a  miracle  of  moods;  but,  as  you  watch 
him  more  narrowly,  a  Mind  of  prodigious  force — a  common  sense 
that  rose  almost  to  the  heights  of  genius ;  a  capacity  to  invest  an 
object  on  all  sides,  and  grasp  it  in  its  wholeness  ;  a  Avit.  that 
redeemed  the  name  from  its  low  or  trilling  associations,  and 
exalted  it  into  a  power  of  benignant  action — all  these  stand  out  in 
your  presence  with  such  undisputable  originality,  that  you  are  at  a 
loss  how  to  delineate  his  marvellous  individualit}'. 

Sydney  Smith  had  a  fine  physical  organization  ;  his  animal  spirits 
were  buoyant  and  vigorous.  If  not  body-proof  against  murky 
skies  and  oppressive  airs,  or  the  more  certain  depressions  of  heavy 
dinners  and  late  hours,  he  had  elasticity  enough  to  reduce  their 
effects  to  a  more  fortunate  minimum  than  most  persons  experience. 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  417 

Then,  too,  he  "was  careful  of  his  health,  never  straining  his  mind 
or  exhausting  his  strength.  No  one  ever  had  a  greater  facility  in 
the-art  of  unbending  the  bow.  The  fascination  of  study  was  per- 
fectly controlled ;  and  in  an  instant,  he  could  wind  up  an  argument, 
point  a  paragraph,  drop  his  pen,  and  turn  the  fulness  of  himself  to 
the  most  commonplace  business.  His  nerves  never  came  nearer  to 
the  surface  than  nature  had  prescribed.  They  were  not  delicately 
strung  like  Cowpcr's,  nor  tortured  in  long  agony  like  Uobert  Hall's. 

One  is  continually  reminded,  in  the  memoir,  of  the  advantages 
which  Smith  derived  from  his  constitutional  vigour ;  and,  if  Chi-is- 
topher  North  be  excepted,  no  man,  in  recent  literature,  shows  so 
much  of  the  "  7nens  sana  in  corpore  sano.^'  He  could  be  brilliant 
any  where,  on  any  subject,  without  the  aid  of  wine,  and  he  could 
endure  hard  efibrt  without  artificial  appliances.  Such  bodily  health 
and  vitality  are  entitled  to  consideration,  if  we  would  form  a  correct 
estimate  of  a  man  like  Sydney  Smith.  Animal  qualities  arc  not  the 
cause  of  intellectual  power,  or  of  social  adaptations ;  and  yet,  where 
God  has  given  a  mind  and  heart  of  greatness,  they  are  important 
adjuncts  to  their  full  development. 

The  intellect  of  Sydney  Smith  does  not  impress  us  as  an  intellect 
of  the  loftiest  and  noblest  type.  Compared  with  men  of  his  own 
country — Shakspeare,  2vIilton,  Earrow,  and  ]iurke — his  inferiority 
is  palpable.  The  absti'act  power  was  defective ;  he  could  not  trace 
a  principle,  like  Coleridge,  through  any  labyrinth,  nor  follow  it  to  its 
source  like  Foster ;  but  if  the  principle  were  outside  of  the  region 
assigned  by  German  thinkers  to  reason,  and  in  the  open  field  of  the 
understanding,  he  could  seize  it  as  potently,  and  use  it  as  success- 
fully, as  any  man  of  his  age.  His  feet  were  firmly  planted  on  the 
earth,  and  if  an  effort  to  overcome  gravitation  were  a  sin,  he  could 
not  have  obeyed  its  law  more  rigidly.  The  bright  eyes  that  were 
80  near  his  brain,  might  range  abroad,  glancing  from  mountain  to 
cloud,  from  cloud  to  zenith,  but  the  man  himself  could  not  soar. 
Sufficient  was  around  him  to  arouse,  occupy,  and  refresh.  Nor  had 
he  that  form  of  intellect  displayed  so  strikingly  in  Do  Quincey, 
which  hovers  on  the  border-line  of  the  supernatural,  and  elicits,  even 
from  common  impulses,  a  mystery  and  a  glory  that  add  significance 
to  daily  life.  He  asked  no  anxiuus  questions  of  the  m.ighty  nature 
that  works  in  us  all,  and  sought  no  clue  to  those  problems  which 
have  perplexed  and  confounded  the  intellect  of  all  ages.  The  inter- 
pretative mind,  reading  a  future  world  in  the  instinctive  emotions 
of  childhood,  or  listening  to  the  prophecies  of  immortality  in  the 
frantic  cries  of  grit-f  and  agony  never  intensified  his  sensibilities 
or  exalted  his  contemplations.     There  was  no  foundatiuu  for  any 


418  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

sort  of  mysticism  in  him.  So  far  from  this,  we  doubt  if  any  kind 
of  remote  or  intangible  thought  had  the  slightest  toleration  at  his 
hands.  Hints,  that  spiritual  philosophy  suggest  to  profound  think- 
ers; musings,  that  are  often  born  of  our  happiest  and  truest  mo- 
ments ;  ideals,  that  charm  and  captivate  the  best  men  in  their  best 
condition,  were  too  much  removed  from  his  sphere  of  reality  to  gain 
any  hold  upon  him.  His  faith  was  eyesight  b}''  another  name.  The 
poetic  faculty,  as  the  reader  may  readily  suppose,  was  utterly  wanting ; 
not  that  he  was  destitute  of  a  certain  order  of  fancy,  but  imagina- 
tion, the  foremost  power  of  the  mind,  the  earnest  searcher  in  realms 
beyond  the  scope  of  the  senses  and  the  understanding ;  the  unsatis- 
fied seeker  of  still  another  imago  to  embody  a  cherished  sentiment, 
or  a  new  fact  to  illustrate  an  old  truth — such  imagination  as.  even 
■when  not  creative,  is  yet  capable  of  regal  intercourse  with  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  universe,  and  carries  a  most  loving  heart  into  the 
presence  of  Supreme  Beauty  and  Infinite  Glory — such  imagination 
never  endowed  him  with  its  priceless  gifts,  nor  crowned  him  with 
its  matchless  honours.  But  these  defects  are  comparative  only. 
Men  may  be  great  without  them;  and  it  is  surprising  to  look  over 
the  roll  of  distinguished  personages,  and  see  how  few  of  them  ap- 
proached the  standard  of  splendid  abilities,  which  we  thus  erect  in 
our  impassioned  hours.  Providence  seldom  sets  its  seal  on  the 
most  resplendent  intellects/ and  incorporates  them  into  the  grand 
system  of*  agencies  by  which  the  world  is  urged  forward.  They 
arc  majestic  spectacles — sublime  assurances  of  what  we  are,  or  may 
be ;  but  not  b}'  them  are  laws  made  more  humane,  society  more  fra- 
ternal, patriotism  less  selfish,  philanthropy  more  benevolent,  and 
practical  Christianity  more  reformatory.  Such  men  exist  by  them- 
selves. They  mourn  over  their  loneliness,  and  not  without  reason; 
for  they  belong  to  a  higher  economy  of  utility,  and  to  a  more  refined 
and  beautiful  life  than  now  encircles  us. 

The  greatness  of  Sydney  Smith's  mind  consisted  not  merely  in 
the  possession  of  extraordinary  powers  of  thought  and  expression, 
but  in  the  admirable  facility  with  which  the  different  faculties  worked 
together,  the  common  cause  they  made  in  every  argument,  the 
hearty  unanimity  w-ith  which  they  brought  themselves  in  a  solid 
column  to  resist  an  attack  or  sustain  an  onset.  Any  one  of  them, 
had  it  been  singly  practised,  would  have  signalized  his  career.  Mr. 
Everett  well  remarked  that.  '•  If  he  had  not  been  known  as  the  wit- 
tiest man  of  his  day,  he  would  have  been  accounted  one  of  the 
wisest."  If  we  analyze  his  productions,  we  arc  struck  with  his  in- 
tuitive perception  of  the  real  points  of  a  subject,  his  quick  sagacity, 
his  large  comprehensiveness,  his  apportionment  of  strength  to  this 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  419 

or  that  division  of  the  topic,  his  unflaiiging  vigour  from  the  first  to 
the  last  sentence,  and,  above  all,  his  Avondorful  ability  to  translate 
ideas  into  life-like  forms,  and  to  commune  with  them  as  if  they  were 
real  personalities.  Everything  took  this  palpahle  shape.  The  abstract 
instantly  turned  into  the  concrete,  and  he  could  scarcely  elaborate 
a  principle  for  a  moment,  without  its  sudden  appearance  in  the  flesh 
and  blood  of  Mrs.  Plymley,  Mrs.  Partington,  or  "John,  Walter, 
Ilonoria,  and  Arabella  Wiggins."'  His  logic  was  clear,  acute,  forci- 
ble, and  when  be  chose  to  argue,  he  deserved  the  title,  which  Mr. 
Macaulay  gave  him,  of  "  a  great  reasoner."  His  main  distinction 
lay  in  the  ease  and  thoroughness  with  which  he  could  divest  a  theme 
of  all  its  incumbrances,  and  take  hold  directly  of  its  legitimate  pro- 
portions. And  in  one  respect,  namely,  thinking  for  the  people,  he 
was  a  model  of  adaptive  intellect.  Instead  of  detaining  his  thoughts 
as  if  he  loved  their  company,  for  his  own  sake,  or  tracing  their  de- 
velopment as  if  he  were  to  be  the  party  benefitted,  he  hurried  them 
into  a  presentable  and  companionable  form,  and  sent  them  forth  into 
society.  Each  of  them  went  out  into  the  gi-eat  world,  a  Sydney  Smith 
in  look  and  lan2;uage;  talking,  rubbing,  ioking.  laughing;  seizing 
the  heart  of  one,  and  conquering  the  prejudices  of  another  ;  disturb- 
ing the  gravity  of  the  House  of  Lords,  and  making  rare  sport  among 
commoners  ;  fastening  a  descriptive  joke  on  Lord  Kussell,  and  fitting 
it  so  well  as  that  ever  after  it  was  remembered  as  a  daguerreotype 
biography  of  the  thin  little  man,  "reduced  by  e.xcessive  anxiety 
about  the  people;"  dealing  with  bishops  in  such  a  Spavtan-like 
manner,  as  that  neither  they  nor  any  body  else  required  any  future 
refreshing  as  to  the  thing  said,  and,  withal,  these  miniature  Sydney 
Smiths  were  so  well-behaved,  that  most  persons  enjoyed  a  stout  rap  or 
a  jovial  reminder,  even  at  their  own  expense,  and  felt  complimented 
by  the  attention.  "  You  have  been  laughing  at  me  for  fifteen  3-ears, 
Sydney,"  said  one  ;  "but  this  I  will  own,  that  you  never  said  a  word 
that  1  could  wish  had  not  been  spoken."' 

The  wit  of  the  man  was  proverbial.  It  was  a  tropical  luxuriance, 
in  which  soil  and  sunshine  did  their  utmost  in  the  way  of  growth 
and  flowering.  The  pages  of  the  memoir  are  full  of  his  peculiar 
sayings,  and  we  suspect  that  the  daughter  has  collected  only  a  small 
proportion.  Jean  Paul  says,  that  the  current  of  thought,  in  some 
men,  cannot  run  steadily  on,  but  is  ever  leaping  up  in  jets.  Syd- 
ney Smith's  wit  was  perfectly  spontaneous.  There  was  no  effort  to 
invent  resemblances,  or  to  force  a  thought  into  a  grotesque  shape. 
Others  have  been  famous  for  wit,  but  Sydney  Smith  had  it  as  an  in- 
tellectual power,  and  it  assumed  a  more  dignified  rank  in  him  than 
in  any  one  whose  name  is  associated  with  it.     Not  often  does  it 


420  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

stand  by  itself,  a  freak  of  the  mind  apart  from  its  usual  exhibitions ; 
nor  does  it  save  itself  for  gi-cat  occasions,  as  if  it  were  a  state 
wardrobe  for  magnificent  display.  A  portion  of  the  texture  of  his 
intellect,  it  was  a  natural  outgrowth  of  active,  energetic,  versatile 
thought,  and  it  blends  harmoniously  and  effectively  with  his  discus- 
sions and  descriptions.  Proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  fact  that,  while 
he  uttered  many  strikingly  humorous  remarks  in  a  sort  of  detached 
manner,  yet  his  best  things  are  closely  intertwined  with  weighty 
reasoning  and  earnest  appeal.  It  was  the  flavour  of  his  mind,  not 
a  sauce  that  the  epicureanism  of  Gore  Hcruse  can  furnish  to  a  dish, 
but  the  genuine  juice  of  the  fruit.  J^Jo  one  was  less  of  an  adept 
in  the  arbitrary  collocation  of  words  and  images.  Wit  manufacture 
was  not  to  his  taste ;  he  was  too  serious  and  direct  for  that  laborious 
amusement.  Play  with  his  thoughts,  and  play  with  exuberant  sport- 
iveness,  he  would ;  but  the  thoughts  themselves  always  maintained 
their  inherent  force,  and  the  dalliance  was  only  a  pleasant  accompa- 
niment to  their  progress.  It  was  not  the  wit  of  South,  that  needed 
controversy  to  give  it  edge,  or  some  mark,  like  Jeremy  Taylor,  to 
make  it  keen  and  probing;  it  was  not  the  wit  of  Fuller,  bubbling 
up  through  every  open  crevice,  and  quivering,  like  a  gentle  gas- 
flame,  that  has  been  ignited  by  contact  v,"ith  the  air;  nor  was  it  the 
quaint  wit  of  Charles  Lamb,  leading  off  his  intellect  into  hidden  by- 
paths, and  holding  a  strange  monologue  over  the  most  eccentric,  an- 
tiquated, obsolete  specimens  of  humanity  that  his  search  could  ex- 
hume. Free  from  the  savage  vices  of  Swift's,  and  too  healthy  and 
ruddy  to  need  the  champagne  that  convivialized  Theodore  Hook's 
into  the  revelry  of  the  dinner- table,  the  wit  of  Sydney  Smith  may 
well  serve  as  a  practical  comment  on  the  remark  of  the  great  theolo- 
gian, Isaac  Barrow :  "  Allowable  pleasantry  may  be  expedient  to  put 
the  world  out  of  conceit  that  all  sober  and  good  men  are  a  sort  of 
lumpish  or  sour  people ;  that  they  can  utter  nothing  but  flat  and 
drowsy  stuff:"'  and.  to  his  praise  it  may  be  said,  that  so  dan::erous 
a  weapon  has  rarely  been  used  with  more  discretion  and  delicacy. 

The  religious  character  of  Sydney  Smith,  so  far  as  delineated  in  the 
memoir,  will  probably  be  viewed  in  different  lights  by  different  per- 
sons. That  he  was  a  sincere  believer  in  the  gi-eat  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity, and,  to  a  certain  extent,  appreciated  their  distinctive  bear- 
ings on  man's  fallen  condition  and  guilty  nature,  cannot  be  doubted. 
Such  points,  in  the  Gospel  system,  as  forbearance,  compassion,  svm- 
pathy,  charity,  and  good  works,  and  other  peculiarities  of  Christian- 
ity, regarded  as  a  law  between  man  and  man,  were  prominent  in  his 
creed;  and  to  his  credit  it  must  be  said,  that  his  life  abounded  in 
beautiful  illustrations  of  his  attachment  to  them.     To  befriend  the 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  421 

poor,  to  watch  beside  the  destitute  sick,  to  bear  the  Ii2;ht  of  cheerful 
hope  into  lonely  and  distressed  hovels,  to  f!;ive  his  substance  as  well 
as  his  kind  attentions  wherever  needed,  and  often,  too.  where  he  was 
the  only  good  Samaritan;  these  noble  and  blessed  oflBces  were  his 
delight,  and  for  them  he  was  ever  prompt  to  resign  any  pleasure  and 
endure  any  inconvenience.  So  far  as  we  can  see,  these  cardinal 
duties  Avcre  discharged  for  Christ's  sake.  There  is  something  in 
his  simple-heartedness,  in  his  generous  sacrifices,  in  his  persistent 
earnestness,  in  his  fruitful  ingenuity  in  devising  ways  to  do  good^ 
that  impresses  us  as  a  different  sentiment  from  worldly  philanthropy. 
Vice  was  sternly  rebuked ;  corniptiou  in  high  places  was  vehemently 
assailed ;  sceptical  writings  and  irreligious  books  were  indignantly 
condemned;  and,  in  some  instances,  men,  through  his  instrument- 
ality, were  brought  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth.  Then,  too,  he  laid 
bare  the  weakness  and  worldliness  of  the  established  Church,  and 
challenged  its  zeal  to  practical  efforts  for  the  regeneration  of  neg- 
lected multitudes.  It  was  near  "  dying  of  dignity,"  and  he  urgt-d  a 
more  effective  and  aggressive  stylo  of  preaching.  Puseyism  had 
none  of  his  sympathies,  and  mummery  was  his  contempt ;  ecclesias- 
tical abuses  had  no  mercy  at  his  hands,  and  bishops,  if  their  meas- 
ures or  actions  were  obnoxious,  were  made  to  feel  his  sharpest 
logic  and  his  most  scathing  wit.  Such  courage  as  this  brought 
its  penalties,  and  no  man  knew  better  than  Sydney  Smith  that 
he  was  paying  a  dear  price  for  his  advocacy  of  correct  princi- 
ples; but  no  expostulations  from  time-servers,  no  forfeiture  of 
honours,  no  contumely,  could  stifle  his  voice  or  abate  his  earnest- 
ness. Looking  at  the  man  in  this  connexion,  he  assumes  the  dignity 
of  moral  heroism.  There  is  breadth,  as  well  as  power,  in  his  move- 
ments. There  is  no  sudden  pause  in  the  midst  of  his  career  to  pon- 
der over  prudential  calculations,  and  to  examine  if  measures  were 
not  strained  too  hard  for  his  own  advantage.  Sydney  Smith  never 
put  hiin.-clf  in  one  scale  and  duty  in  the  other,  but,  with  fiets  on 
one  side  of  the  beam,  he  weighed  obligations  in  the  other,  and  deter- 
mined his  course.  But  the  errors  of  a  false  system  were  around 
Lim,  and,  viewing  the  circumstances  about  him,  the  associations  of 
his  position,  and  the  sphere  of  life  in  which  he  acted,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  should  have  been  injuriously  affected. 

Tried  by  an  evangelical  standard,  Sydney  Sriiith  certainly  does 
not  satisfy  us.  If  not  worldly-minded,  he  was  too  much  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  worldliness.  There  was  nothing  wrong  in  his  intimacy 
at  Holland  House,  nor  is  he  to  be  blamed  for  enjoying  a  good  din- 
ner whenever  it  came  in  his  way.  His  wit  and  humour  were  God's 
gifts,  and  he  generally  used  them  in  an  amiable  and  unobjectionable 


422  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

manner.  Exhilarating  as  his  spirits  were,  they  never  transcended 
the  bounds  of  refined  and  cultivated  taste.  The  effervescence  was 
not  the  froth  of  poisonous  liquor,  but  the  -white  foam  of  a  stream, 
that  irrigated  and  refreshed  the  landscape  through  which  it  flowed. 
Table-pleasures  were  valued  more  for  the  mind  than  the  body,  and 
his  wonderful  powers  of  conversation  were  not  wasted  on  trifles. 
All  his  friends  represent  him  as  most  charming  in  his  serious  moods, 
and  even  fashionable  women,  v/ho  courted  his  acquainuance  for  the 
zest  of  his  lighter  talk,  bear  testimony  to  the  edifying  and  ennobling 
qualities  of  the  man.  And  yet  it  is  sad  to  think  that  one  so  richly 
endowed ;  one  so  frank,  cordial,  truthful,  exemplary  ;  one  of  so  much 
purpose,  ability,  and  rectitude,  should  have  fallen  short  of  the  meas- 
ure of  a  thoroughly  devout  Christian,  and  missed  the  mark  of  an 
humble,  godly,  useful  minister  of  Christ. 

Let  us  not  be  misunderstood.  Critics  are  morally  responsible 
for  their  reviews  of  character,  as  well  as  amenable  to  the  laws  of 
taste  and  culture  for  the  spirit  in  which  they  treat  the  sanctity  of 
human  reputation.  Far  from  us  be  the  hard  and  callous  insensibil- 
ity that  would  regard  the  talents  and  virtues  of  great  and  noble 
men  as  if  they  were  mere  contributions  to  the  science  and  surgery 
of  the  dissecting- table.  But  errors  of  false  kindness  are  often  as 
mischievous  as  the  vices  of  savage  tempers.  If  any  one,  after  read- 
ing these  volumes,  will  calmly  close  them,  and  then  summon  before 
his  mind  a  distinct,  full-formed  image  of  Sydney  Smith,  we  are 
greatly  mistaken  if  he  do  not  feel  that  something  is  wanting  to  give 
that  image  moral  and  spiritual  completeness.  Beautiful  does  that 
image  appear  in  all  the  gentler  and  tenderer  relations  of  home  and 
fireside,  and  abroad,  in  the  manly  pursuits  of  life,  in  the  field,  in  the 
parish,  in  the  city,  brave  as  the  bravest ;  but  is  it  not  the  light  of  a 
near  firmament  that  illumines  its  features?  and  if,  in  serener  and 
holier  hours,  the  beams  of  a  more  distant  orb  fall  upon  it,  is  it  not  a 
halo  that  soon  vanishes  ''. 

Sydney  Smith  seems  never  to  have  sounded  the  depths  of  spiritual 
experience.  Religion,  as  a  moral  and  practical  routine :  religion,  as  a 
social  system  to  educate  and  elevate  mankind ;  religion,  as  a  state  in- 
strument; religion,  as  a  revealed.  Divine  authority,  armed  with  God's 
omnipotence,  and  hallowed  by  God's  compassionate  love ;  religion,  as 
a  theory  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  of  the  Church  of  England,  he  com- 
prehended and  taught.  A  step  beyond,  and  he  reaches  •'  purity  of 
heart,"  and  dwells  on  it  as  the  "  ark  of  God ;"  "  it  is  God's,  and  to  God 
it  will  return.''  But,  admitting  gladly  all  this,  it  is  very  obvious  that 
Sydney  Smith  had  no  fellowship  with  the  profounder  aspects  of  ex- 
perimental religion.    The  agonies  of  repentance ;  the  terrible  convic- 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  423 

tion  that  cleaves  the  universe,  and  opens  hcoven  and  hell  before  the 
startled  eje ;  the  strong  cries  and  tears,  that  utter  a  language  un- 
known, where  the  cross  is  unfelt;  the  vast  interests  of  the  soul  when 
God  lets  down  the  burden  of  eternity  on  its  keenest  sensibilities ; 
the  reconciling  sight  of  Jesus,  as  redeemer,  intercessor,  Iriend,  and 
brother;  the  triumph  of  faith,  hope,  and  love,  in  their  answering 
joy  to  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit ;  the  sore  conflicts  of  Christian  life ; 
the  alternations  of  fear  and  coufidence ;  the  oft-rcpcatcd  prayer, 
'■  God,  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner ;"  the  yearning  for  rest  in  Para- 
dise; the  growth  into  the  full  stature  of  Christ;  all  this  was  beyond 
his  grasp.  To  his  mind,  a  pei'sou  showing  an  acute  sense  of  God's 
violated  law,  or  an  exultant  feeling  of  God"s  forgiving  mercy,  was  a 
sheer  enthusiast.  Perhaps  the  enthusiast  needed  medical  treatment ; 
perhaps  the  stomach  had  usurped  the  dominion  of  the  brain,  and  a 
bad  liver  was  secreting  unhealthy  ideas ;  at  best,  he  was  the  fool  of 
others,  or  the  dupe  of  himself.  For  all  such  cases  he  had  a  most 
summary  treatment;  and,  seizing  the  most  exceptionable  of  their 
peculiarities,  and  drawing  no  line  whatever  between  the  incidents 
of  a  principle  and  the  principle  itself,  he  branded  them  as  fanatics, 
whose  rantings,  superstition,  and  severities,  were  the  offspring  of 
distempered  heads  or  hollow  hearts.  A  grosser  instance  of  injus- 
tice, a  more  humiliating  exhibition  of  ignorance  and  moral  inap- 
preciativeness,  we  do  not  know,  than  this  phase  of  Sydney  Smith's 
character.  lie  saw  and  felt  the  evils  of  the  established  Church :  he 
admitted  that  its  disease  was  chronic ;  he  was  an  unflinching  sujiporter 
of  liberality  and  charity  in  all  things ;  he  loved  to  witness  the  prog- 
ress of  society,  and  no  one  laboured  harder,  in  certain  ways,  to 
contribute  to  it ;  and  yet,  while  evangelical  Christians  were  accom- 
plishing, under  his  own  eyes,  and  at  his  very  door,  what  he  so  much 
coveted  to  have  done ;  Avhile  they  were  sending  a  new  stream  of 
life  into  the  decaying  vitals  of  the  Church,  and  quickening  the  lower 
classes  of  England  into  the  consciousness  of  manhood;  whik-  litera- 
ture, commerce,  and  legislation,  all  bore  marks  of  their  energetic 
presence,  and  showed  that  Christianity  M'as  advancing  toward  its 
enthronement,  in  intellect  and  life ;  he  must  deliberately  plant  him- 
self, fathoms  deep,  against  these  movements,  and  hurl  the  sharpest 
shafts  of  wit,  and  the  barbed  arrows  of  ridicule,  into  the  hearts  of 
many  of  England's  worthiest  and  purest  men.  We  say  nothing  of 
the  taste  that  could  select  the  most  pervertible  pas.=ag(s  from  evan- 
gelical works,  and  hold  them  up  to  public  derision.  It  had  been 
done  before.  Infidels  had  made  a  similar  use  of  the  Bible. 
Satan  himself  is  a  master-hand  at  apt  quotations.  A  few  withered 
leaves,  crumpled,  blackened,  mouldy,  from  the  boughs  of  an  oak, 


424  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

do  not  convict  it  of  death ;  nor  do  ugly  worms  on  flowers  disgust 
a  botanist  with  the  vegetable  beauty  of  nature.  The  man 
talked  of  bigotry;  but  what  bigotry  is  as  blinding  as  that  which 
shuts  up  one  to  his  own  little  loop-hole,  and  never  permits  him  to 
move  a  hair's  breadth  toward  a  more  commanding  point  of  observa- 
tion ?  And  he  talked,  too,  of  delusion ;  alas !  there  is  no  delusion 
so  silly  as  that  which  consists  in  mistaking  a  manikin  for  a  living 
being ;  and  of  this  was  he  guilty,  when  he  turned  scornfully  from 
evangelical  Christianity,  and  rested  his  hopes  on  the  counterfeit 
institutions  of  the  day. 

In  the  same  spirit  he  vehemently  opposed  Methodism.  Selecting 
his  points  of  attacli,  and  kcejiing  them  only  before  his  eye,  he  repu- 
diates the  entire  system,  by  virtue  of  his  dislike  for  v/hat  offends  his 
taste  and  irritates  his  sense  of  refinement.  The  strange  narrations 
of  inward  experience  and  outward  trials,  which  Methodists  had  pub- 
dished,  arc  either  insufiferably  stupid  or  shockingly  profane;  while 
the  introduction  of  supernatural  tilings,  in  which  some  of  them  in- 
dulged, is  quite  an  overmatch  for  his  charity,  lloman  Catholics 
appeal  to  his  sympathies  and  enlist  his  forbearance;  but  preaching 
cobblers  and  shouting  colliers  are  too  much  for  his  temper.  The 
people  must  necessarily  run  to  ruin,  if  they  follow  the  lead  of  such 
raving  madmen.  'What  will  the  doctrine  of  Providence  prove  in 
their  hands  ?  The  depths  in  him  move,  and  the  shoal  spots,  lashed 
b3'tlie  waters,  arc  thick  with  strife,  and  clouded  by  dense  2sewfound- 
land  fogs.  Providence  was  not  to  be  brought  down  from  its  high, 
scientific,  unapproachable  dignity.  It  was  to  be  let  alone  in  its  sub- 
lime embodiment  in  the  general  laws  of  the  universe,  and  it  was 
downright  sacrilege  in  Methodist  prayer-meetings  and  love-feasts, 
to  claim  its  present  action  in  their  results.  ISIot  then  had  the  "  ]Nat- 
ural  Vestiges"  ascertained  that  Providence  was  a  lottery  system, 
nor  had  a  presumptuous  "spiritualism"  degraded  it  into  an  affair 
of  sullen  raps  and  moving  tables.  Put  Providence  ^vas  quietly 
generalized  out  of  the  reach  of  common  things,  and  religious  philos- 
ophy, as  Sydney  Smith  held  it,  was  content,  if  it  would  be  good 
enough  to  manage  the  machinery  of  the  solar  system,  and  keep 
comets  from  using  their  tails  too  furiously.  Nor  had  he  any  more 
patience  with  the  style  of  thought  and  the  bold  manner  which  they 
employed  in  speaking  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  To  think  of  those  un- 
washed, uncombed  masses,  as  tabernacles  of  the  Spirit,  was  beyond 
endurance.  His  nostrils  settled  the  (pK-stion;  the  dirty,  greasy 
creatures,  smellcd  of  subterranean  odours,  and  it  would  take  Gabriel 
and  the  resurrection  to  make  them  decent  enough  to  be  entered  on 
the  list  of  Adam's  descendants.      The  fanatical   herd  claimed  to 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  425 

know  their  sins  forgiven,  nnd  to  live  in  the  daily  consciousness  of 
an  approving  God ;  they  believed  in  fasting  and  prayer;  they  thoiiglit 
that  sackcloth  and  ashes  -^Ncre  as  necessary  in  England  as  in  ancient 
Judea;  they  reproved  worldly  fashions,  and  counted  all  things  but 
loss,  for  the  excellence  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus;  and  this 
was  sufficient  to  demonstrate  that  a  morbid  and  licretlcal  enthusi- 
asm had  taken  possession  of  them.  A  man  must  be  deplorably  ig- 
norant of  the  Bible,  Y,"ho  has  not  seen  the  disclosures  of  this  vivid- 
experience  all  through  its  pages.  Judaism  abounds  with  them,  and 
Christianity  presents  them  as  common  facts  in  the  New  Testament : 
but,  apart  from  that,  it  is  certainly  amazing  that  any  one,  v,-ho  has 
ever  had  a  single  religious  thought  to  penetrate  his  brain,  or  a  soli- 
tary religious  emotion  to  enter  into  his  heart,  has  not  instantly  and 
clearly  recognised  the  power  of  Christianity  to  awaken  intense  con- 
viction and  profound  feeling.  Such  a  one  cannot  forget  that  the 
very  approach  of  Christianity,  as  if  a  mysterious  agency  moved  in 
advance  of  its  footsteps,  transferred  him  suddenly  to  a  new  position, 
and  created  a  sense  of  relationships  to  the  invisible  and  eternal,  that 
he  had  not  before  imagined.  It  does  not  act  on  the  senses,  nor  doer: 
it  seize  the  imagination  half  as  potently  as  a  thousand  objects  around 
us ;  and  yet,  with  a  thrill  that  the  nerves  of  sense  never  felt,  and 
with  a  living  realization  that  imagination  never  approximated,  it 
nnpresses,  at  the  same  moment,  and  in  equal  fulness,  our  whole  na- 
ture, and  changes  it  into  a  being  of  infinite  fears  and  hopes.  The 
slightest  contact  with  Christianity,  if  it  is  nothing  more  than  an  in- 
tellectual exercise,  is  assuredly  sufficient  to  indicate  its  H:ie  of  viovc- 
nient,  and  to  convince  one  that  awe,  dread,  anxiety,  terror,  as  the\- 
operate  in  common  minds,  by  reason  of  common  sensibilities,  and 
througl^  the  announced  agency  of  God's  special  Spirit,  are  the  in- 
separable attendants  of  its  presence.  MethodisKi  did  nothing  more 
than  express  these  vast  and  momentous  facts.  It  took  its  tone  and 
language  from  the  Bible;  it  was  untaught  of  man:  its  original  in- 
stitutions grew  out  of  its  prominent  thoughts  ;  its  bond  of  union  was 
simple  brotherhood  in  Christ;  its  usages  shaped  themselves  out 
from  its  instincts;  and  in  all  its  relations  it  showed,  to  right-minded 
men,  that  it  bore  the  stamp  of  God. 

If  Sydney  Smith's  discernment  had  not  utterly  failed  him,  it 
would  have  satisfied  his  judgment,  that  those  things  in  Mcthodi.'^m. 
which  he  found  so  much  cause  to  condemn,  were  striking  illustra- 
tions of  its  Divine  origin.  Could  any  exhibition  of  pungent  thought. 
deep  conviction,  poignant  sorrow,  truthful  corifidence,  inspiring  rap- 
ture, be  more  natural,  taken  in  connexion  with  the  circumstances 
then  existing?     Consider  the  parties   the  time,  the  occasion;  view 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  Vlll.— liT 


42G  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

all  the  antecedents;  and  these  peculiarities,  if  such  they  can  be 
called,  arc  a  most  significant,  reliable,  and  impressive  testimony  in 
its  favour.  Had  they  been  absent ;  had  these  occasional  hyperboles, 
extravagant  attitudes,  and  %vild  outbursts,  never  appeared,  the  evi- 
dence v.-ould  not  have  been  so  strong  and  convincing,  that  Christian- 
ity ^vas  nvorking  mightily  on  the  hearts  of  the  people.  There  TS'cre 
no  irreconcilable  phenomena  in  these  manifestations.  If  they  had 
never  run  into  excess  ;  never  transgressed  the  bounds  of  sober  pro- 
priety ;  never  provoked  a  smile,  or  suggested  an  apprehension,  that 
would  have  been  an  unaccountable  phenomenon. 

Any  great  emotion,  if  its  power  is  adequately  expressed,  may  ap- 
pear extravagant,  and  even  insane,  if  we  have  not  the  key  to  its 
comprehension.  It  may  be  the  most  truthful  feeling  in  the  world, 
such  as  maternal  grief  over  the  death  of  a  tenderly-loved  child;  and 
yet,  if  the  cause  of  that  vehement  passion  is  unknown,  the  mind  is 
not  prepared  to  appreciate  the  tremendous  agitation.  And  precisely 
here  lay  the  difficulty  with  Sydney  Smith.  Methodism  was  a  won- 
der; it  was  a  new  exhibition  of  Divine  energy;  it  was  a  fresh  bap- 
tism from  the  Holy  Ghost;  mens  thoughts  were  driven  out  of  their 
old  channels;  men's  eyes  were  opened  on  singular  scenes;  men's 
hearts  were  convulsed  by  unwonted  excitements ;  and  hence,  such 
minds  as  Sydney  Smith's,  looking  on  its  surface,  and  spiritually  in- 
competent to  penetrate  deeper,  yielded  to  tiieir  prejudices,  and  de- 
nounced it  with  the  freedom  ^vhich  ignorance  gives  to  its  chieftains. 
It  was  only  on  such  subjects  as  Methodism,  missions,  and  collateral 
topics,  that  he  ever  resigned  the  liberality  and  generousness  of 
his  nature;  but  here,  "his  nobler  self  is  gone,"  and  he  suddenly 
shrinks  to  the  smallest  dimensions  of  a  man.  Had  he  been  freed 
from  false  associations ;  had  he  known  the  full  power  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  had  he  been  himself  in  all  his  relations ;  working  out,  in  his 
own  simple,  straightforward,  manly  ways,  the  grand  ideas  within 
him,  and  allowing  himself  to  be  seduced  into  no  illusions,  Sydney 
Smith  had,  perchance,  been  saved  from  the  unenviable  distinction 
of  a  decided  antagonism  to  evangelical  religion.  Such  defects  are 
peculiarly  painful  to  contemplate.  It  is  the  nature  of  great  merit 
to  awaken  high  admiration,  and  the  spectacle  of  fine  abilities,  en- 
riched by  those  munificent  treasures,  which  the  growth  of  centuries 
has  provided  for  scholarship  and  taste,  and  dedicated  to  the  advance- 
ment of  freedom,  brotherhood,  and  piety,  never  rises  before  the 
mind  without  enlarging  its  ideas,  stimulating  its  aspirations,  and 
exalting  its  aims.  Where  our  best  sympathies  have  thus  been  ex- 
cited, and  the  heart  glows  in  the  presence  of  commanding  worth,  it 
is  sad  to  be  reminded  that  so  much  of  earthliness  belongs  to  the 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  427 

brightest  forms  of  humanity.  A  -vrroiig  is  committed  against  us 
when  men,  such  men  as  wc  are  proud  to  honour,  abate  our  esteem 
and  restrain  our  praise.  The  spots  on  the  sun  neither  shade  its 
splendours  nor  chill  its  heat ,  not  a  blade  of  grass  is  less  green ;  not 
a  flov,-er  lacks  its  perfume;  not  a  forest  is  less  stately,  because  of 
their  existence.  The  magnificent  orb,  holding  his  fulnes.s  umvasted, 
and  nightly  replenishing  the  effulgence  of  moon  and  stars,  is  as  much 
the  royal  ruler  of  the  firmament,  as  though  his  disc  ^vcrc  ^vithout  its 
shadows.  But  it  is  not  so  with  men.  The  light  of  God  is  darkened 
by  evil  and  discoloured  by  prejudice;  and  every  ray  thus  diverted 
or  destroyed,  leaves  us  so  much  less  of  goodness  and  greatness  to 
love  and  venerate. 

Whatever  fault  may  be  found  with  Sydney  Smith's  course  in  those 
connexions  which  have  been  mentioned,  and  whatever  failures  he 
may  have  made  in  measuring  up  to  the  standard  that  his  office  and 
position  pledged  him  to  meet,  it  is  delightful  to  dwell  on  what  he 
did,  and  the  means  by  which  he  accomplished  so  much  for  his  ago 
and  country.  Commencing  life  with  almost  everything  against  him, 
he  augmented  the  difficulties  in  his  way  by  advocating  principles 
that  drew  upon  him  neglect  and  suffering.  The  peculiar  talents 
which  nature  had  lavishly  given,  and  study,  with  its  associate  arts. 
had  most  effectively  trained,  were  serious  drawbacks  to  preferment 
and  honour.  The  traditions  of  England,  as  England  then  was;  the 
patronage  of  the  aristocracy ;  the  favourite  privileges  of  place  and 
prerogative;  the  decisions  of  courts,  and  the  verdict  of  public  opin- 
ion, were  against  his  principles.  A  young  man,  without  fortune, 
and  destitute  of  available  friends,  he  projected  the  Edinburgh  Jle- 
view,  and  gathering  a  select  group  of  sturdy  spirits  around  him, 
breathed  a  soul  into  its  pages,  that  finally  made  it  the  fountain  of  a 
new  life,  and  a  new  hope  to  England.  The  great  measures  that  are 
associated  with  his  genius  and  fame,  emancipation  acts,  game  laws, 
relief  of  debtors,  and  otlicr  parliamentary  movements,  are  main)}- 
indebted  for  their  success  to  his  fine  sense,  cutting  irony,  unyielding 
purpose,  and  laborious  exertion.  Never,  perhaps,  did  a  literary 
man,  all  things  considered,  effect  more  direct  political  good.  A 
most  liberal  utilitarian,  advancing  far  beyond  mere  pecuniary  cal- 
culations, and  aiming  at  much  more  than  physical  improvement,  he 
infused  a  generous,  high-minded,  elevated  philosophy  into  the  prac- 
tical reforms  that  he  toiled  so  hard  to  carry  through,  lie  made  liter- 
ature a  most  valuable  auxiliary  to  the  cause  of  human  progress ;  what- 
ever he  wrote  was  sure  to  suggest  important  thoughts ;  the  most  of 
his  discussions  were  a  positive  gain  to  the  treasury  of  public  wisdom, 
and  rarely  did  he  present  an  argument,  or  point  an  appeal,  that  was 


428  Sijdney  Smith.  [July, 

not  so  raucli  intellectual  and  moral  pabulum  for  the  world  to  ab- 
sorb. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  this  memoir,  is  the  prom- 
inence which  it  gives  to  the  domestic  and  social  character  of  Sydney 
Smith.  He  never  appeared  to  better  advantage  than  in  private  life, 
and,  aware  of  this,  the  alTectionate  biographer  with  womanly  skill 
and  grace,  has  very  admirably  brought  out  this  phase  of  his  nature. 
Any  analysis  of  the  man  v,-ould  be  incomplete,  if  it  were  to  fail  in 
this  part  of  its  task.  One  who  wishes  to  know  where  that  mighty 
reservoir  lay,  that  fed  so  many  streams,  and,  while  it  supplied  their 
waters,  kept  them  within  regular  channels,  and  preserved  them  from 
overflow,  must  search  for  it  in  retirement.  Many  distinguished 
men  have  been  so  detached  from  the  fireside,  that  it  is  never  neces- 
sary to  follow  them  in  their  occasional  retreat  from  the  eye  of  the 
world,  to  perfect  acquaintance  with  them.  Others  live  at  home,  and 
among  friends;  they  simply  visit  the  public  to  deliver  a  message,  or 
execute  a  trus-t.  To  neither  of  these  classes  did  Sydney  Smith  be- 
long. Filling  a  large  space  before  the  world,  he  was  yet,  in  an  em- 
inent degree,  a  private  gentleman,  devoted  to  his  own  pursuits,  and 
discharging,  as  well  as  receiving,  the  refmed  and  elegant  offices  of 
hospitality.  It  was  this  that  contributed  so  much  to  freshen  his  in- 
tellect, regulate  its  action,  and  elevate  its  tone.  How  often,  how 
severely,  has  literature  suffered  from  the  absence  of  these  salutary 
checks !  How  many  bitter  hearts,  distilling  their  gall  and  worm- 
wood through  the  pen,  would  have  been  sweetened,  had  they  been 
blessed  with  these  advantages  I 

The  intimate  friends  who  came  to  his  domestic  circle,  blended 
with  it  as  their  own;  and  once  within  its  magical  enclosure, 
the  spirit  of  free  and  glad  companionship  ruled  their  hearts. 
Thither  resorted  Mackintosh;  and  when  Bunch  would  announce 
"Lord  and  Lady  Mackincrush,"  in  her  richest  Yorkshire  brogue, 
the  humour  of  the  moment,  ly  laughable  recollections  of  the  defini- 
tion of  Pepper,  or  the  imaginary  speech  to  the  hackney  coachman, 
in  which  Sydney  Smith  had  so  successfully  parodied  the  indiscrimi- 
nate praise  and  stately  diction  of  Sir  James's  oratory:  thither  came 
Jeffrey,  to  be  joked  in  doggerel,  as  he  bestrode  the  donkey  Bitty; 
and  thither  Mrs.  ^Larcet,  Horner,  Lord  and  Lady  Holland,  and 
others  of  mark  and  prcmiucncc,  in  different  walks  of  life.  But  such 
occasions  were  not  spent  in  the  mere  enjoyment  of  gay  and  lively 
intercourse.  Wit  and  humour  only  enlivened  the  hour.  Sydney 
Smith  excelled  in  serious  conversation ;  and,  at  these  seasons,  when 
a  group  of  favourite  listeners  was  around  him,  none  was  more  ready 
to.  use  his  great  gifts  for  edification.     Thinking  and  writin^r  for  the 


1856.]  Sydney  Smith.  429 

public  soon  vitiate  the  best- organized  man,  if  he  is  deprived  of  that 
kind  of  living  intercourse,  \Yith  its  corrective  and  disciplinary  agen- 
cies, ^yhich  such  society  fails  to  give.  The  constant  tendency  to  mag- 
nify the  importance  of  our  favourite  trains  of  thought ;  the  fondling, 
caressing,  maudlin  "U'ays,  into  which  even  robust  minds  are  ahvays 
liable  to  fall,  where  the  solitude  of  the  library  is  rigidly  maintained ; 
the  absolute  necessity,  which  exists  by  virtue  of  inward  laws,  for 
men  to  balance  themselves  one  against  another,  and  so  Icaru  both 
their  weakness  and  strength ;  and,  above  all,  that  airing  of  the  brain, 
which  is  never  experienced  away  from  this  cordial  and  inspiriting 
companionship,  are  reasons  why  a  high  estimate  should  be  put  on 
this  goodly  fellowship,  simply  considered  as  a  means  of  intellectual 
and  moral  training.  Ko  intellectual  man  can  afford  to  dispense  with 
this  sort  of  society.  Letter  far  be  without  books  than  without  it; 
for  cultivated  men  and  women  always  communicate  enough  to 
stimulate  an  appreciative  spirit,  and  urge  it  forward  in  quest 
of  something  better.  It  is  an  insensible  censorship,  that  sel- 
dom offends,  and  never  disheartens ;  it  steals  upon  the  pride  and 
selfishness  of  human  nature,  with  so  much  bland  politeness  and 
gentle  affection,  that  men  are  made  humbler  and  stronger,  without 
knowing  the  process  by  which  it  has  been  effected ;  it  is  a  gymna- 
sium, to  which  one  resorts  for  amusement,  and  finds  health  and 
vigour  in  the  midst  of  delight.  There  cannot  be  a  doubt  that  this 
species  of  intellectual  life  in  England  has  been  of  inestimable  value 
to  its  thinkers  and  writers.  For  two  centuries  it  has  been  their 
good  fortune  to  enjoy  this  pleasure,  and  we  apprehend  that,  if  the 
gain  to  ihe  world's  stock  of  thought  and  resources  of  power,  derived 
from  the  groves  and  porticoes  of  classical  philosophy,  were  placed  be- 
side the  enlargement  of  knowledge,  and  the  augmentation  of  strength. 
which  have  sprung  from  this  source,  there  would  not  be  much  cause 
for  the  fireside  and  the  social  board  to  be  ashamed  of  the  comparison. 

The  highest  prai.^e  of  English  literature  is  this  presence  of  home 
sentiments  among  its  largest  and  best  class  of  writers,  and  the  pe- 
culiar kind  of  culture,  style  of  thought,  and  general  attitude  of  mind. 
which  such  a  social  spirit  has  developed.  We  do  not  mean  the  in- 
troduction of  domestic  life  into  works  of  fiction— a  department  of 
writing  in  which  the  ideas  and  experience  of  the  tender  relations  of 
human  existence  must  necessarily  have  large  play— but  the  effect  on 
literary  character  of  the  activity  and  prominence  of  that  sort  of 
social  intercourse  which  has  been  experienced  in  England.  It  does 
not  appear  so  much  in  any  special  direction  of  intellect,  as  in  the 
fine,  delicate  colouring,  that  runs  through  its  productions. 

Enrdish  literature  "is  characterized,  above  all  other  literature,  by 


430  Sydney  Smith.  [July, 

these  domestic  pictures  of  exquisite  enjoyment.  From  the  time  of 
Addisou  to  the  present  day,  English  hearths  have  imparted  warmth 
to  books,  that  one  keeps  closely  by  him  ;  and  how  many  faces,  that 
never  depart  from  the  image-chamber  of  the  mind,  have  caught 
their  familiar  radiance  from  its  serene  glow!  iS'o  other  country  has 
anything  like  this  to  show  in  its  literature.  Across  the  channel 
there  have  been  brilliantly  lighted  saloons  and  picturesque  chateaux. 
where  intellect  and  beauty,  the  learning  of  savans,  the  accomplish- 
ments of  courtiers,  and  the  fantasies  of  wit,  had  their  tournaments, 
and  vainly  strove  to  keep  alive  the  romance  that  Avas  relaxing  its 
hold  on  the  imaginations  of  men.  But  these  strike  only  the  eye; 
the  heart  answers  to  another  call,  when  the  songs  that  breathe  forth 
from  the  rural  homes  of  England,  or  the  great  works  that  arc  per- 
manently associated  with  its  sequestered  lakes  and  beautiful  hills, 
utter  the  inspiration  which  never  descends  upon  man  or  woman,  ex- 
cept amid  the  sacredness  of  their  abode. 

One  would  soon  be  sensible  of  the  loss  to  his  imagination  if  En- 
glish literature  were  deprived  of  the  multitude  of  images  which  it  has 
gathered  from  English  landscapes ;  and  yet  this  would  be  insignifi- 
cant, compared  with  the  immense  blank  which  would  be  left  in  it, 
were  its  household  scenes  to  be  obliterated.  The  language  itself  is 
a  testimony  to  the  strength  and  fulness  of  its  domestic  heart.  What 
other  language  has  so  many  vigorous  and  impressive  terms,  so 
many  genuine,  idiomatic  expressions,  to  represent  the  home  feelino-s? 
Wedded  love,  parental  ties,  fireside  joys  and  griefs,  the  bliss  of 
early  marriage,  the  pathos  of  early  sorrow,  the  old  homestead 
amid  still  more  venerable  oaks,  and  the  green  graves  of  the  church- 
yard; these  have  created  words  that  have  enriched  the  thoughts  of 
the  w^orld,  and  brought  the  Anglo-Saxon  language  nearer  to  the 
standard  of  a  perfect  medium  for  the  communication  of  Christianity, 
than  any  other  tongue.  Allowed  in  this  aspect,  English  civilisation 
is  entitled  to  a  pre-eminence  that  cannot  be  disputed.  If  one  will 
go  through  its  literature,  the  literature  especially  that  gives  the 
best  insight  into  England's  best  homes,  he  will  find  more  to  sun'^est 
ideas  of  domestic  life,  as  narrated  in  the  Bible,  than  in  all  the  other 
literature  of  the  world. 

The  period  in  which  Sydney  Smith  lived,  taken  in  all  its  aspects, 
will  be  remembered,  in  future  days,  as  one  of  the  most  memorable 
in  English  history.  If,  indeed,  its  entire  connexions  and  bearings 
be  considered,  we  doubt  v.hcther  any  portion  of  time,  extendin'T 
through  no  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  century,  is  worthy  of  com- 
parison with  it.  No  age  can  show  so  much  solid  work,  so  substan- 
tially and  thoroughly  done ;  none  so  many  abuses  corrected,  so  many 


185G.]  F.arhj  Metliodism  in  Manjland,  431 

obstacles  in  the  patliway  of  progress  removed ;  none  can  boast  of 
such  impulses  applied  to  the  popular  mind,  and  such  general  action 
in  behalf  of  humanity.  Among  those  master-spirits  that,  by  earn- 
est thought  and  patient  toil,  laboured  to  redeem  the  age  from 
slothfulucss,  and  infuse  a  new  spirit  into  the  traditions  and  hopes 
of  England,  Sydney  Smith  will  have  his  place;  and,  though  we  lay 
down  this  memoir,  with  a  heart  sad  at  the  thought  that  he  was  not 
more  signally  useful  in  the  highest  and  grandest  sphere  of  Christian 
action,  yet  we  rejoice  to  know  that  he  has  left  a  name  which  men 
will  not  "  willingly  let  die." 


Art.  T.— early  JIETIIODISM  IN  Z^TAEYLAXD,  ESPECIALLY  IN 
BALTIMORE. 

The  labours  and  trials  of  good  men  as  seen  in  humble  life,  though 
often  despised  and  neglected  by  the  Avorld,  should  always  be  cherislied 
and  held  in  grateful  remembrance  by  the  Church.  At  this  time, 
when  Methodism  maintains  so  conspicuous  a  place  in  our  country, 
it  may  be  of  some  interest  to  the  present  generation  to  look  back 
and  trace  its  first  introduction  and  consequent  progress. 

Those  who  were  first  in  laying  the  foundations  of  our  spiritual 
superstructure  in  this  ancient  commonwealth,  were  not  of  that  class 
of  instruments  which  the  Church,  in  the  ordinary  exercise  of  her 
functions,  would  likely  have  chosen  for  so  great  a  work.  They  had 
no  out-going  commission  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature. 
They  were  not  appointed  and  sent  into  this  new  world  with  instruc- 
tions as  to  where  they  should  labor  and  how  they  should  act.  The}"" 
were  not  scnf  here,  but  carac  on  their  own  account ;  they  camr  here  as 
others  did  at  the  time,  poor  and  humble  emigrants,  to  share  the  com- 
mon toil  and  reap  the  common  bounty  of  this  promised  land.  But 
they  were  here  as  Christian  men,  to  whom,  the  honours  and  emolu- 
ments of  this  world  were  as  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  obliga- 
tions and  enjoyments  of  a  better  life.  The}'  were  here  as  strangers, 
strangers  in  more  than  one  sense  :  they  were  Methodists,  a  by-word 
and  a  hissing  in  the  country  from  whence  they  came,  and  not  less 
so  in  this.  Tlicy  were  here  like  Joseph  in  Egypt,  like  Lot  in 
Sodom,  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  engrossing  artifices  for  getting 
money  and  tlio  pleasures  of  spending  it,  or  to  confess  that  they  were 
pilgrims  on  the  earth,  looking  for  a   city  which  huth  foundations, 


432  Early  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July 

•vs'hose  maker  and  builder  is  God.  Bj  wisely  choosinf^  the  latter, 
and  keeping  Avithin  the  compass  of  their  real  interest,  they  were 
saved  themselves,  and  made  the  means  of  saving  otliers. 

As  true  sons  of  Wesley,  they  were  not  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  own 
their  paternity,  but  were  uhva3'3  ready  to  give  an  answer  to  every 
one  that  asked  them  of  the  reason  of  the  hope  that  was  within,  with 
meekness  and  fear;  and  enforcing  by  an  upright  walk  and  godly  con- 
versation, the  simple  story  of  their  expfriences,  they  were  made  the 
instruments  of  sowing  the  first  seeds  of  Methodism  in  Maryland, 
which  in  their  development  produced  that  glorious  harvest  which 
we  now  see,  and  which  we  justly  esteem  as  the  most  valuable  of  our 
possessions. 

When  we  reflect  what  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  Mary- 
land now  is,  and  how  much  of  her  present  prosperity  she  owes  to  men 
of  other  times,  it  is  som.ewhat  reproachful  to  us  that  her  history  is 
still  unv/ritten;  that  among  so  many  able  ministers  and  laymen,  no 
one  has  considered  it  to  be  his  duty  to  rescue  from  oblivion  the  facts 
counected  with  her  early  existence.  To  supply  this  want  of  fore- 
thought and  guardianship,  (now  almost  too  late,)  a  few"  local  minis- 
ters and  laymen  associated  themselves  together  in  October  last  as  a 
Historical  tSociety,  calling  to  their  aid  as  many  of  the  itinerant  min- 
isters as  it  was  thought  would  take  an  interest  in  collecting  informa- 
tion in  connexion  with  the  rise  and  progress  of  ^Methodism  within 
the  bounds  of  the  Baltimore  Annual  Conference,  and  elsewhere. 
V/ith  a  view  of  enlisting  the  sympathies  of  our  ministers  generally, 
it  was  agreed  that  a  discourse  should  be  delivered  at  the  first  annual 
meeting  of  the  society  in  the  presence  of  the  conference  on  some  one 
of  the  topics  embraced  in  the  plan  of  operation.  Through  the 
kindness  and  partiality  of  the  association  that  task  devolved  on  the 
writer  of  this  article ;  and  though  conscious  of  his  inability  to  do 
justice  to  the  subject,  he  could,  not  feel  altogether  at  liberty  to 
decline  the  offer. 

The  theme  of  the  address,  which  Ibrins  the  substance  of  this  paper, 
is  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Methodism  in  Baltimore.  A  subject  so 
entirely  local,  and  necessarily  connected  with  so  much  minute  detail, 
can  scarcely  hope  to  excite  more  than  a  mere  local  interest.  Histor- 
ical and  antiquarian  researches  differ  essentially  from  works  of  taste 
and  genius.  In  the  latter,  imagination  and  fancy  may  display  their 
creative  energies,  but  in  the  former,  invention  must  be  suspended,  and 
the  only  hope  of  the  toiling  labourer  is,  ilia:  he  may  iind  amid  heaps  of 
rubbish  which  others  had  repeatedly  sitled,  some  pearls  and  diamonds 
which  they  had  overlooked  ;  and  even  these,  when  examined  by  the 
hypercritical,  may  be  pronounced  of  little  worth,  things  to  be  gazed 


1S56.]  EspecialUj  in  Baltimore.  433 

at,  but  of  no  practical  use.  For  of  v>bat  importance,  it  may  be  asked, 
is  it  to  any  present  interest  to  bs  groping  through  devious  and  dark 
passages,  looking  after  the  dead ;  to  be  gathering  up  for  safe  keeping 
the  fcAY  and  scanty  memorials  of  "  olden  days,"  -whose  chief  excel- 
lence consists  in  giving  utterance  to  private  friendships,  or  the  re- 
cital of  joys  and  sorrows  no^Y  passed  and  covered  by  the  vraters  of 
oblivion;  thus  subscribing  to  the  remark  of  Goldsmith,  '"that 
volumes  of  antiquity,  like  medals,  may  very  well  serve  to  amuse  the 
curious  ;  but  the  works  of  rhe  moderns,  like  the  current  coin  of  a 
kingdom,  are  much  better  for  immediate  use ;  the  former  are  often 
prized  beyond  their  value  and  kept  with  care,  while  the  latter  sel- 
dom pass  for  more  than  their  intrinsic  worth."  It  is  no  purpose  of 
mine  to  draw  any  invidious  comparisons  between  our  young  antiquity 
and  the  present  condition  of  ^lethodism,  by  running  into  the  extremes 
here  complained  of  by  the  immortal  author  of  the  Deserted  A'illage. 
Nor  docs  it  necessarily  follow  by  any  means  that  men,  though  an- 
tique in  their  tastes  and  habits,  may  not  form  a  correct  estimate  of 
what  is  in  the  present,  valuable. 

He  that  sets  out,  however,  to  collect  the  scattered  fragments  of 
the  early  annals  of  our  forefathers,  need  not  expect  to  meet  with  any 
general  plaudits ;  it  may  seem  too  greaf  an  effort  of  mind  for  the 
generality  of  those  who  are  '"  clothed  in  soft  raiment,  and  dwell  i;i 
kings'  houses,"  to  conceive  of  a  state  of  things  alcogethor  different 
from  that  in  v,  hich  they  live ;  to  others  it  is  too  great  an  effort  of 
humility  to  stoop  to  converse  with  their  plain  and  unsophisticated 
ancestors,  and  hear  the  tale  of  other  years.  But  as  children  are  sup- 
posed to  have  a  knowledge  of  their  parentage,  and  may  take  pleasure 
in  retracing  the  scenes  of  their  early  days,  and  in  fond  memory 
living  them  over  again,  so  communities  and  Churches  may  reason- 
ably desire  to  ascertain  the  rock  whence  they  arc  hc\>n,  and  the 
hole  of  the  pit  whence  they  are  digged. 

This  fair  cit}'  of  '''  monuments,"  the  coi\tre  of  so  n^uch  social  and 
religious  enjoyment  to  many  an  annual  gathering  of  the  Baltimore 
Conference,  which  has  now  a  population  of  two  hundred  thousand 
souls — a  little  upward  of  a  centur}^  ago  was  marked  by  a  solitary 
hamlet,  and  known,  in  the  language  of  the  times,  as  the  place  where 
one  ".John  Fleming  now  lives."  On  the  first  of  ]">cccmbcr,  17ii9, 
Richard  Gist,  William  Hamilton,  Dr.  Buchanan,  and  Dr.  AValker, 
commissioner.^  chosen  for  the  purpose,  purciiased  of  Councillor  Car- 
roll sixty  acres  of  laud,  to  be  paid  ibr  at  Ibrcy  shillings  each  in  money, 
or  in  tobacco  at  one  cent  per  pound,  and  on  the  twelfth  day  of  the 
following  month,  assisted  by  Bhllip  Jones,  the  county  surveyor,  the 
commissioners  laid  off  Baltimore  town.     At  the  vcrv  time  the  lines 


434  Earhj  Methodism  in  Majyland,  [-Tuly, 

were  being  run,  -which  then  bounded  the  emporium  of  Maryland, 
Methodism  in  England  had  an  existence  that  was  hardly  visible, 
and  for  twenty  years  after  there  was  not  one  disciple  of  Wesley  in 
all  North  America. 

That  every  great  and  noble  result  must  arise  from  and  originate 
in  a  simple  and  oftentimes  unpretending  cause  is,  as  a  mere  matter 
of  fact,  too  evident  to  be  questioned  by  any  one.  The  lofty  oak  may 
be  traced  to  the  insignificant  and  humble  acorn;  the  mighty  river  to 
various  streams,  and  springs,  and  marshes,  "which  put  forth  unseen 
and  unheeded  their  scanty  supplies.  The  wandering  and  despised 
Galilean,  ^Yith  his  humble  band  of  fishermen,  once  symbolized  the 
kingdom  of  God  by  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  and  by  leaven  which  a 
woman  took  and  hid  in  three  measures  of  meal,  and  by  the  handful 
of  corn  in  the  earth  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain;  so  of  the  rise  of 
Methodism  in  jMaryland,  particularly  in  Baltimore,  it  may  be  said, 

"  When  He  first  the  work  begun, 
Small  and  fet-'ile  was  His  day." 

The  most  obvious  feature  in  Baltimore,  at  the  time  the  Methodists 
first  came  here,  was  diversifij  in  its  religious  persuasions ;  already, 
in  a  population  of  a  few  thousand  inhabitants,  five  congregations 
had  been  gathered,  and  churches  erected,  no  two  of  which  were  of 
the  same  denomination.  Of  these  St.  Paul's,  (Episcopal,)  built  in 
1744,  and  paid  for  out  of  the  public  treasury,  was  the  oldest  and 
wealthiest,  as  well  as  the  most  numerous,  and  the  only  one  in  the 
place  that  was  lawful,  all  others  being  made  tributary  to  its  sup- 
port apd  aggrandisement.  This  unequal  and  anomalous  state  of 
things,  which  had  always  existed  as  an  element  in  the  state  and 
Church  religions  of  the  Old  World,  was  brought  about  here  by 
the  revolution  in  England  of  1G88,  which  placed  William,  Prince 
of  Orange,  on  the  throne.  Soon  after  that  great  event,  and 
growing  o^it  of  it.  the  provincial  assembly  at  Annapolis  passed 
an  act  of  recognition,  wherein  they  declared  William  and  Mary 
to  be  sovereigns  of  England  and  all  its  dominions,  repealing 
all  other  laws  except  those  relating  to  individual  rights.  The 
royal  governor  and  the  assembly,  three  years  after,  prayed,  in  the 
style  of  British  statutes,  that  an  act  might  be  passed  for  establishing 
the  Protestant  religion.  In  pursuance  of  this  statute,  and  with 
the  assistance  of  a  commissioner  expressly  appointed  for  the  pur- 
pose by  the  Bishop  of  London,  the  province  was  divided  into 
parishes,  and  provided  with  vestrymen.  Forty  pounds  of  tobacco 
per  poll  in  lieu  of  tithes  was  allotted  for  the  support  of  the  clergymen, 
of  whom  there  were  but  sixteen  in  the  first  instance.     As  these  were 


1S5G.]  Especially  in  Baltimore.  435 

not  suScicnt  to  supply  all  the  parishes  erected,  certain  fees  vrere 
appointed,  besides  the  usual  compensations  in  tobacco,  and  magis- 
trates were  prohibited,  by  an  express  clause  of  the  statute,  from  per- 
forming raarriaj:^e  rites. 

The  principal  portion  of  the  first  settlers  of  Baltimore  county 
•were  of  the  Society  of  Friends  or  Quakers,  who  resorted  to  JNIary- 
land  for  protection,  before  a  refuge  was  prepared  for  tliem  in  Jersey 
or  Pennsylvania.  They  vrere  better  received  here  tlian  cither  in  South 
or  North  Virginia.  From  the  time  of  the  establishment  of  the  Church 
of  England  in  the  province,  the  right  of  affirmation  and  other  privi- 
leges were  extended  to  them  and  their  meetings ;  that  of  Avorship, 
they  and  other  Christian  sects  enjoyed  from  the  first  planting  of  the 
province.  The  German  Reformed  Lutherans,  Presbyterians,  and 
Roman  Catholics,  each  had  churches  and  stated  pastors  as  early  as 
1759.  Thus  we  have  seen,  that  down  to  1770  the  Methodists  had  not 
made  the  first  effort  for  an  existence  here,  or  to  sec  whether  they 
might  have  permission  to  live  at  all ! 

The  men  whom  God  was  pleased  to  signalize  as  the  instruments 
of  introducing  Methodism  into  ^Maryland  were  three  local  preachers, 
Robert  Strawbridge,  Robert  "Williams,  and  John  King.  Of  this 
trio,  Mr.  Strawbridge  stands  preeminently  the  first.  He  preached  the 
first  sermon,  formed  the  first  society,  and  built  the  first  preaching- 
house  for  the  Methodists  in  ?.Iaryland  and  in  America,  being  three 
years,  perhaps,  earlier  than  Wesley  Chapel,  John-street,  New- York. 
As  Mr.  Strawbridge  was  the  instrument,  under  God,  of  founding 
our  spii'itual  house  in  this  country,  and  as  there  arc  many 
misapprehensions  abroad  respecting  his  claim  to  this  honour,  a 
more  particular  account  of  him  than  is  found  in  our  various  publi- 
cations cannot  but  be  acceptable  to  the  Methodist  reader. 

Mr.  Strawbridge  was  a  native  of  Drummer's  Nave,  near  Carrick- 
on- Shannon,  county  Leitrim,  Ireland.  He  emigrated  to  this 
country  in  1750  or  l^(VK  and  settled  on  Sam's  Creek.  I'rcderick 
county,  ^Maryland.  His  principal  aim  in  leaving  his  native  land 
was  to  procure  a  more  ample  subsistence  for  his  family;  which 
^  object,  however,  he  never  accomplished,  for  he  died  a  poor  man. 
Frederick,  at  the  time  ^Ir.  Strawbridge  settled  there,  was  strictly  a 
backwoods  county,  embracing  all  the  country  west  and  south  now 
included  in  Montgomery,  AVashington.  and  Alleghany  enmities.  As 
late  as  1755  the  Indians  had  passed  the  Forts  Cumberland  and 
Frederick,  and  got  within  eighty  or  ninety  miles  of  P.altiinore,  in 
parties  of  plunder  and  murder,  and  the  defenceless  inhabitants  were 
f^catly  alarmed  lest  they  should  reach  the  town,  and  the  women 
and  children  were  put  on  board  of  vessels  in  the  harbour,  to  be 


436  Early  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July, 

rescued  by  flight  down  tlie  bay  if  necessary,  v.-hile  tlie  inhabitants 
of  the  adjacent  country  were  flying  to  tov.n  for  safety. 

The  treaty  of  peace  concluded  in  1758,  by  Sir  William  Johnston, 
with  the  Six  Nations,  and  Avith  some  other  Indians  who  had  voluntarily 
gone  from  Maryland,  and  the  termination  of  the  war  Ave  years 
after  by  the  expulsion  of  the  French  and  Spanish  from  all  their 
colonies  on  the  continent  north  of  the  Gulf  of  ^Mexico  and  Missis- 
sippi, laid  open  ail  western  3Iaryland  to  the  whiles  for  safe  and 
peaceable  settlement.  It  was  among  those  hardy  frontier  settlers, 
many  of  whom  had  gone  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Baltimore, 
while  others  had  come  from  Pennsylvania,  that  Mr.  Strawbridgc 
fixed  his  home,  and  opened  his  house  for  preaching.  God  gave 
him  favour  in  the  sight  of  the  people,  so  that  a  great  door  and 
effectual  was  opened  to  him  at  once  for  usefulness.  A  society,  con- 
sisting of  twelve  or  flfteen  persons,  was  formed  as  early  as  17G3  or 
1764,  and  soon  after  a  place  of  worship  was  erected,  called  the 
"Log  Meeting-liouse,''  about  a  mile  from  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Strawbridge. 

As  great  mistakes  exist  respecting  the  exact  date  of  I\Iethodism 
in  America,  it  is  proper  to  correct  them  so  far  as  the  proofs  in  our 
possession  will  enable  us  to  do  it.  It  has  been  a  general  impression, 
and  the  histories  of  our  Church  so  represent  it,  that  Methodism  in 
this  country  originated  in  New-Tork;  that  Philip  Emhury,  a  local 
preacher  from  Ireland,  formed  the  first  Methodist  society  and 
preached  the  first  [Methodist  sermon  in  that  city  in  the  year  1706. 
This  is  undoubtedly  an  error,  so  far  as  priority  is  concerned. 
Methodism  unquestionably  had  its  origin  in  Frederick  county,  Z>Iary- 
laud,  and  i\\(i  first  i^Jcthodist  society  was  formed  there  by  Robert 
SxRAW'ErjDGE.  Bishop  Asbury  says,  (vol.  iii,  p.  27  of  his  Journal,) 
in  speaking  of  the  settlement  of  Pipe  Creek,  "  Here  Mr.  Strawbridge 
formed  the  first  society  in  Marykind — and  sUncrica  ;'^  the  words 
in  italics  being  his  ovrn.  Bishop  .Vsbury's  early  acquaintance  Avith 
Mr.  Strawbridge,  as  w  ell  as  the  information  which  he  necessarily  had 
of  all  his  movements,  gives  to  his  emphatic  remark,  in  settling  a 
matter  of  fact,  great  weight  and  importance. 

A  statement  now  before  us,  written  by  David  Evans,  son  of  John 
Evans,  one  of  Strawbridge's  first  converts,  settles,  we  think,  the 
true  origin  of  ^tlcthodism  in  America.  The  paper  has  the  stamp 
of  age  upon  it,  and  also  the  appearance  of  being  toni  from  the  fly- 
sheet  of  a  Bible,  or  from  some  old  record  book ;  the  writing  is  quite 
legible,  and  in  the  style  which  obtained  sixty  years  ago.  It  runs  as 
follows : 

"John  Evans,  born  30th  ^November,  1734,  about  five  miles  from 


185G.]  Esjieciallij  in  Baltimore.  437' 

Baltimore.  When  about  fourteen  years  of  a^^c  his  father  moved  to 
the  upper  part  of  Baltimore  county,  near  the  neighbourhood  of  Pipe 
and  Sam's  Creek,  where  he  resided  until  his  death.  In  his  25th 
year  he  married ;  he  had  nine  children,  and  six  are  now  living.  His 
parents  were  members  of  the  Church  of  England.  About  the  year 
1764,  he  embraced  the  Mcthodisi  religion  under  'Mv.  Strawbridge; 
his  wife  also,  and  four  others.  From  that  time  his  house  became  a 
preaching  and  prayer- meeting  house,  and  when  the  first  circuit  was 
formed  in  Baltimore  county  be  offered  his  house,  and  it  was  accepted, 
about  the  year  ITGS,  and  continued  a  preaching-house  for  upward 
of  forty  years;  which  time  he  was  a  regular  class-leader,  and  con- 
tinued class- leader  between  two  or  three  years  after  preaching  was 
removed  from  his  house,  when  he  requested  to  resign  by  reason  of 
weakness  and  infirmity  of  body. 

"  The  above  was  written  b}*  m}'  father  David  Evans. 

"  Samuel  Evans." 

Samuel  Evans,  grandson  of  John  Evans,  is  still  living,  and  a 
YTorthy  member  of  the  Pipe  Creek  Methodist  Society.  Mrs.  Ben- 
nett, now  in  the  eighty-ninth  year  of  her  age,  and  daughter  of  John 
Evans,  states  that  the  society  was  first  formed  at  Strawbridge's 
house,  and  was  afterward  removed  to  the."  log  meeting-house  ■."'  ihe 
class  had  been  formed  for  some  time.  She  remembers  Strawbridge. 
lie  was  of  medium  size,  dark  complexion,  black  hair,  had  a  very 
sweet  voice,  and  was  an  excellent  singer.  He  came  to  this  country  v.-ith 
his  v/ife,  nephew,  and  niece.  Our  inform.ant  states,  also,  that  Mr. 
Strawbridgo  had  six  children,  Eobert,  George,  Theophilus.  Jesse, 
Betsey,  and  Jane.  George  died,  and  also  two  of  the  other  children. 
who  were  buried  under  the  pulpit  of  the  "log  meeting-house." 
George  and  Jesse  grew  up  and  became  carpenters.  Mrs.  Straw- 
bridge  died  in  Baltimore.  During  his  life  Mr.  StrawbriJgc  was 
poor,  and  the  faiuily  were  often  scraitencd  for  food:  but  lie  was 
a  man  of  strong  faith,  and  would  say  to  his  family  on  leaving  them, 
"Meat  will  bo  sent  here  to-day."  On  account  of  administering 
the  ordinances,  he  was  much  opposed  by  the  preachers  when  they 
began  to  circulate  through  the  neighbourhood. 

The  calls  upon  JMr.  Strawbridge  to  go  to  di^-.tant  parts  of  the 
country  to  preach,  became,  in  course  of  time,  so  frequent  and  press- 
ing that  his  family  were  likely  to  suffer  in  his  absence,  so  that  it 
became  a  question  with  him,  "Who  will  keep  the  wolf  from  7/jy 
door  while  1  am  abroad  looking  after  the  lost  slicepV"  I\Ieanwhile, 
Lis  friendly  neighbours  agreed  to  cultivate  his  little  farm  without 
charge,  and  to  see  that  his  wife  and  children  wanted  for  nothing 


438  Early  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July, 

during  his  absence.  In  this  way  this  zealous  servant  of  Christ 
continued  to  labour  in  diS'erent  parts  of  Frederick,  and  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Ealtimore  county,  breaking  up  new 
ground,  forming  new  societies,  and  establishing  permanent  places  for 
preaching ;  God  working  through  hira  by  tire  word  which  he  preached. 
Jt  is  delightful  to  look  back,  after  a  lapse  of  ninety  years  and  upward, 
and  recount  one  by  one  the  long  list  of  those  who  could  claim  this 
primitive  missionary  as  the  insirumeut  of  their  salvation,  many  of 
them  persons  of  intelligence  and  of  influence  in  the  communities  in 
which  they  lived,  giving  themselves  first  to  Chrisi;,  and  then  devoting 
their  substance  to  build  up  a  godly  seed  for  generations  followiucr, 
and  of  these  we  recur  with  no  ordinary  feelings  of  satisfaction  to 
the  sainted  parents  of  the  late  distinguished  and  able  editor  of  the 
Christian  Advocate  and  Journal,  Dr.  Eond. 

Mr.  Strawbridge  continued  to  reside  at  Sam's  Creek  about  six- 
teen years,  and  then  removed  to  the  upper  part  of  Long  Green, 
Baltimore  county,  to  a  farm  given  him  (for  life)  by  the  wealthy 
Captain  Charles  Ilidgely,  by  whom  he  was  greatly  esteemed,  and  who 
often  attended  his  preaching.  It  was  while  living  here  under  the 
shadow  of  '"  Hampton,"  (Col.  Ridgcly's  seat,)  that  in  one  of  his 
visiting  rounds  to  his  spiritual  children,  he  was  taken  sick  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Joseph  Wheeler,  and  died,  in  great  peace,  in  the 
summer  or  fall  of  1761. 

His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  to  a  vast  concourse  of  people, 
by  the  llev.  Richard  Owings,'^  under  a  large  walnut-tree,  at  the  north- 
west comer  of  the  house.  The  text  was  Rev.  xiv,  13:  "  And  I 
beard  a  voice  from  heaven."  A  number  of  his  Christian  friends 
from  a  distance,  who  had  known  him  first  on  Sanvs  Creek,  were  now 
here  to  see  the  last,  and  sung,  as  they  mournfully  and  slo-wly  walked 
to  the  place  of  burial, 

"  How  blest  is  our  brother,  bereft 

Of  all  tliat  coulJ  bunlcii  his  mina! 
How  easy  the  soul  tliat  has  left 
The  ■wearisome  body  behind  I" 

His  grave,  and  also  the  grave  of  Mrs.  Strawbridge,  are  in  the 
small  burying-ground  in  the  orchard  south  of  the  house,  perhaps 
som.e  hundred  yards.  The  graves  arc  together,  about  tlie  centre  of 
the  ground,  and  as  if  nature  were  reproving  the  neglect  of  the 
Church,  she  has  raised  up  a  large  poplar-tree  bctvv-ecn  them,  as  a 
Uviii'j:  nionumcnt  of  their  worth.  Stanling  on  the  spot,  and  looking 
southward  a  distance  of  six  or  seven  miles,  the  eye  rests  on  Balti- 

°Mr.  Owings  was  one  of  his  converts,  and  the  yfrsf  Amerkan  Methodist 
preacher  raised  up  on  the  continent. 


1856.]  Especially  in  Baltimore.  439 

more,  where  the  preachers  are  holding,  perhaps  for  the  hist  time, 
at  this  writing,  (March,  185G,)  the  session  of  the  "  Old  Bahimore 
Conference." 

Having  examined  the  stream  at  its  source,  let  us  follow  it  a  short 
distance  as  it  widens,  and  hastens  on  to  the  ocean.  The  hrst  effort  to 
introduce  Methodism  into  Baltimore,  by  means  of  preaching,  was 
made  by  iMr.  John  King,  the  friend  and  fellow-labourer  of  Straw- 
bridge.  It  was  in  the  winter  or  spring  of  1770.  The  place  selected  for 
opening  his  mission  to  the  people  of  Baltimore  town,  was  at  the  in- 
tersection of  Front-street  and  the  great  eastern  road,  (now  French- 
street.)  Mr.  King  stood  upon  a  Wucksmith's  block,  and  addressed 
an  audience  as  discordant  and  undecided  as  to  what  this  babbler  had 
to  say,  as  those  of  Ephesus  to  whom  St.  Paul  preached  for  the  first 
time.  A  Mr.  James  Baker,  deputy  surveyor  of  the  county,  who 
was  one  of  his  hearers,  was  deeply  convinced  of  sin,  and  afterward 
converted.  This  was  the  first  fruit  gathered  to  Methodism  in  Bal- 
timore. Mr.  Baker's  father  lived  on  Gunpowder  Falls,  and  his 
house  was  a  preaching  place  for  Mr.  Strawbridge,  where  a  nour- 
ishing society  was  formed  by  him,  and  met  there  for  many  years. 
Some  of  his  descendants  are  still  living  in  the  city  and  county,  and 
are  influential  and  pious  members  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church. 

Encouraged  by  this  indication  of  good,  and  believing  that  he  was 
acting  in  the  line  of  his  duty  to  God  and  to  tlie  souls  of  men.  Mr. 
King  ventured  into  the  heart  of  the  citadel.  Here  the  effect  of  his 
preaching  was  different  and  somewhat  disagreeable  to  himself  The 
preacher  stood  on  a  table  at  the  corner  of  Baltimore  and  Calvert 
streets,  where  the  ^luseum  now  is.  It  being  a  day  of  general  muster 
of  the  volunteers  and  uiilitia,  some  young  men  of  the  "  higher  class," 
who  considered  it  manly  to  get  drunk  on  such  occasions,  determined 
to  interrupt  the  services  and  break  up  the  meeting.  In  the  con- 
fusion which  followed,  tlio  table  was  overturned  and  the  ]n-cacher 
thrown  to  the  ground.  The  captain  of  the  company,  grieved  at  the 
rude  treatment  of  a  stranger,  and  perceiving  that  Mr.  King  was  a 
countryman  of  his,  interfered  and  protected  him  from  further 
molestation. 

A  circumstance  occurred  with  Mr.  King  soon  after,  which,  if  it 
were  not  fully  authenticated,  might  be  placed  among  the  "seven 
wonders  of  the  world;"  and  considering,  also,  that  he  was  but  a 
mere  laj'-prcacher,  reminds  one  of  Byron's  reuuuk,  that  "  trutli  is 
stranger  tlian  fiction."  It  was  no  less  than  an  invitation  to  preach 
in  St.  PauVs  Church.  By  whom  this  civility  was  extended  to  the 
humble  preacher,  lately  of  the  block  and  of  the  table,  wc  have  never 


440  Earli/  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July, 

been  able  to  learn ;  but  one  cflect  of  the  disconrse  vas  that  some 
offence  was  given  to  the  worthy  rector;  whether  it  was  in  the  manner 
or  in  the  matter  of  the  preacher  (perhaps  both)  is  not  quite  clear. 
One  who  was  present,  and  from  whom  we  received  the  information 
many  years  ago.  said  "  that  Mr.  King  made  the  dust  fly  from  the 
old  velvet  cusliion."  He  was  given  to  understand  very  plainly  that 
hereafter  the  cannon  should  not  be  spiked  for  his  benefit. 

Early  in  the  summer  of  1770  Mr.  Pilmore,  one  of  the  f.rst  mis- 
sionaries sent  over  by  Mr.  Wesley-;  arrived  in  jNIaryiand,  and  after 
spending  some  time  with  Mr.  Strawbridge,  visiting  the  societies  in 
Frederick  and  Baltimore  counties,  and  preaching  with  much  satis- 
faction to  himself  and  others,  came  to  ]>altimore,  and  addressed  the 
people  once  or  twice,  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  as  they  came  out  of 
St.  Paul's  Church  after  morning  service.  Being  a  man  of  com- 
manding appearance,  and  withal  an  able  and  convincing  preacher, 
he  was  listened  to  with  much  interest.  But  the  happiest  event  which 
could  have  occurred  to  Tvlethodism  in  Baltimore,  as  well  as  to 
the  cause  of  religion  generally,  vras  the  arrival  of  ^Ir.  Asbury  in 
the  lidl  of  177i^,  when  he  preached  for  the  first  time,  in  the  morning 
at  the  Point,  and  in  town  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  at 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

Down  to  this  pL-riod  there  had  been  no  disposition  shown,  on  the 
part  of  the  people,  to  open  their  houses  for  Methodist  preaching, 
or  to  extend  to  the  preachers  those  hospitalities  which  are  now 
so  characteristic  of  Baltimore.  It  is  true  those  preachers  who 
had  preceded  i\!r.  Asbury  were  allowed  the  freedom  of  the 
place,  but  it  Avas  only  to  preach  in  the  market-house,  or  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets,  and  to  take  lodgings  at  an  inn,  or  retire  to  the 
country,  which  was  their  usual  practice.  But  it  was  far  otherwise 
in  1772;  the  good  seed  which  had  been  sown  by  Strawbridge,  Wil- 
liams, and  others,  in  the  surrounding  country,  had  been  productive; 
while  that  scattered  by  King,  Pilmore,  and  BoardmauAvas  beginning 
to  spring  up  in  Baltimore,  so  that  Mr.  Asbury  found  a  people  pre- 
pared to  his  haufls.  Captain  Patton.  a  friendly  Irishman  on  the 
Point,  was  the  first  to  ofler  his  house  for  preaching,  and  soon  after 
Mr.  "William  r^Ioore,  in  town,  at  the  southeast  corner  of  Water 
and  South  streets,  and  also  Mrs.  Triplett,  a  ]nous  lady  of  the  Ger- 
man Refornied  Church,  opened  her  three  story  brick  dwelling,  corner 
of  Bakimore-i;treet  and  Triplett's  Alley.  These  were  soon. filled  with 
attentive  hearers,  that  on  the  I'uint  taking  the  lead.  In  a  short 
time  the  place  was  found  insufficient  to  accommodate  the  people 
who  were  anxious  to  receive  the  bread  of  life.  A  sail-loft,  at  the 
comer  of  Mills  and  Block  streets,  was  provided  free  of  cliar'^e,  v.liich 


1856.]  '     Especialhj  in  Baltimore.  441 

was  soon  filled  to  overflo^vin^,  many  coming  from  the  country  a 
distance  of  six  miles,  before  some  of  the  people  of  the  town  had 
risen  from  their  beds. 

Something  like  a  permanent  arrangement  being  made  for  perpetu- 
ating Methodism  in  Baltimore,  Mr.  Asbury  set  about  in  good  earn- 
est to  regulate  the  societies  by  settling,  as  ho  saj^s,  the  classes,  and 
thereby  giving  to  Methodism  that  form  and  consistency  wht^h  it 
had  in  England  ;  and  no  man  kne^v  better  how  to  do  this  than  ho  did. 
He  had  received  a  good  training  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Wesley, 
heartily  sympathized  with  him  in  all  his  views  in  raising  up  a 
spiritual  people,  nor  was  he  inferior  to  him  in  zeal,  activity,  and 
perseverance. 

Hitherto  the  Methodists  in  Baltimore  had  no  responsible  head, 
but  mot  togetlicr  for  prayer  and  mutual  instructions  without  refer- 
ence to  numbers  or  time ;  having  no  one  in  particular  to  lead  their 
devotions,  and  to  give  advice  or  reproof  v.hcn  needed.  Mr.  Asbury 
wanted  order  and  certainty;  and  ho  knew  full  well  that  nothing 
could  secure  these  but  Methodist  rule.  Hence  on  the  3d  of  January, 
1773,  he  says,  after  meeting  the  society,  "I  settled  a  class  of  men," 
and  on  the  following  evening,  after  preaching  witli  comfort,  "I  formed 
a  class  of  women."  Mr.  Asbury  found  it  difficult  at  fust  to 
procure  a  suitable  leader  for  the  men,  but  not  so  for  the  v.omcn, 
and  being  partial  to  the  Weslcyan  plan  in  England,  ho  appointed 
one  of  their  own  number  over  them  as  leader.  The  formation  of 
these  two  chisscs,  and  the  addition  of  others  soon  after,  together 
with  the  difficulty  of  finding  room  for  those  who  were  willing  to 
hear  the  uord  of  God  preached,  made  it  necessary  to  provide 
other  than  mere  private  accommodation ;  and,  accordingly,  in  >Jovcm- 
ber  following,  Mr.  Asbury,  assisted  by  Jesse  Hollingsworth,  George 
Wells,  Richard  Moale,  George  Robinson,  and  John  Woodv.ard, 
purchased  (at  five  shillings)  the  lot,  si.xty  feet  on  Strawbcrr}' 
Alley,  and  seventy-five  feci  on  Fleet-street,  for  a  house  of  AVv»;;-!iin, 
Avhcrc  the  church  now  stands — the  only  original  edijlce  of  the  kind 
of  religious  denomination  in  Baltimore.  The  following  3'car  Mr. 
Wm.  Moore  and  Mr.  Bhilip  Rogers*  took  up  two  lots,  and  erected 
a  church  in  Lovely  Lane;  Mr.  Moore  collecting  £100  to  as.vist  in 
paying  for  it.  Which  of  these  two  churches  was  first  finished  is  not 
quite  certain;  tradition  says  the  latter.  The  one  in  vStrawberry 
Alley  "was  commenced  in  jS'ovember,  Yn^;  that  in  Lovely  Lane, 
the  ISth  of  April,  1774.  Mr.  Asbury,  speaking  of  the  latter,  re- 
marks, "  Tins  day  the  foundation  of  our  house  in  Baltimore  was 
laid."  "  Who  could  have  expected  that  two  men,  one  among  tho 
°  B->th  convert  d  bj  Mr.  Asburv'g  ministrj. 

Fourth  Skiites.  Vol.  VIII.— -23 


442  Early  Methodism  in  Mart/land,  [Ju^y, 

chief  of  sinners,  -would  ever  Iiave  thus  engaged  in  so  great  an  under- 
taking for  the  cause  of  the  blessed  Jesus  'i  This  is  the  Lord's  doing, 
and  it  is  marvellous  in  our  eyes.  He  hath  moved  them  to  this  ac- 
ceptable undertaking; .and  he  will  surely  complete  it,  and  raise  up 
a  people  to  serve  him  in  this  place!"  Captain  \Vebb.  in  writing  to 
^Ir.  Asbury,  then  in  Xcw-York,  said  that  the  church  in  Lovely 
Lane  was  so  far  finished  by  the  middle  of  October  that  ho  preached 
in  it.  It  is  of  this  remarkable  man,  who  was  the  first  to  introduce 
Methodism  into  Philadelphia,  and  to  build  up  the  cause  in  New- 
York,  that  the  elder  Adams  remarks,  while  attending  the  continental 
Congress  of  1774,  in  Philadelphia,  "  In  the  evening  I  went  to  the 
Methodist  meeting  and  heard  Mr.  'Webb,  the  old  soldier,  who  first 
came  to  America  in  the  character  of  quarter-master,  under  General 
Braddock.  He  is  one  of  the  most  fluent,  eloquent  men  I  ever  heard : 
he  reaches  the  imagination  and  touches  the  passions  very  well,  and 
expresses  himself  with  great  propriety." 

Mr.  Asbury,  on  his  return  from  New- York  to  Baltimore,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  the  new  house  in  Lovely  Lane,  (now  complete.) 
and  many  of  Iiis  old  friends,  with  some  new  ones  added  to  their 
number.  Thus  we  see  that  in  the  short  space  of  five  years  from  the 
time  when  Mr.  King  first  preached  to  the  people,  standing  upon  a 
blacksmith's  block  in  old  town,  JMethodism  had  grown  to  sufiicient 
importance  to  command  public  respect,  and  to  be  able  to  entertain 
the  conference  which  met  in  Baltimore,  the  21st  of  May,  177G.  the 
first  three  conferences  having  previously  been  held  in  Philadelphia. 

It  would  be  a  pleasant  task  at  any  time,  and  more  especially 
■when  so  large  a  body  of  Methodist  preachers  are  met  near  the  spot 
where  the  first  conference  was  held  in  our  city,  to  speak  of  those 
twenty-three  itinerants,  who  seventy-nine  years  ago  sat  in  Lovely 
Lane  to  give  an  account  of  their  past  labours  and  trials,  and  receive 
new  orders  for  "  spreading  Scriptural  holiness  all  over  these  lands  ;" 
to  call  up  the  names  of  those  pious  laymen,  Holling.sworth,  llogers, 
Owings,  M' Cannon,  Hawkins,  men  of  mark  and  of  might ;  and  those 
godly  women,  Rogers,  Owens,  Huling,  Chamberlin.  Fornerden,  and 
many  others,  all  prayer-leaders  and  class-leaders,  and  true  helpers  of 
those  preachers  who  remained  at  their  posts  while  others  had  fled, 
leaving  the  cause  of  Methodism  to  shift  for  itself,  pouring  from  the 
heart  warm  and  free  the  life-blood  of  Methodism,  and  sending  it 
forward  through  the  community  in  which  they  lived,  keeping  up  their 
watch-fires  in  the  dark  and  gloomy  time  of  the  Revolutionary  war, 
which  was  now  upon  them ;  four  of  these  noblest  preachers  in  prison,* 
because  they  preferred  saving  men's  souls  to  taking  tlieir  lives ;  the 
*  Garrison,  Hartley,  Forest,  and  Scott. 


1856.]  Especially  in  Baltimore.  443 

great  Asbuvy  in  exile,  not  being  allowed  to  preach,  complaining, 
"silence  breaks  my  heart;"  so  that  at  the  peace -which  vras  pro- 
claimed in  eighty-three,  that  found  'the  strongest  church  in  the  land 
wasted  and  almost  destroyed,  there  were  more  Methodists  in  Balti- 
more tlian  in  any  city  or  to^Yn  on  the  continent. 

"We  have  now  come  Avithin  seeing  distance  of  that  great  event  in 
Methodism  which  took  place  in  Lovely  L<ine  Chapel,  Baltimore,  in 
the  winter  of  1TS4,  when  ihe  Methodiit  Sociciits  in  America  be- 
came an  independent  Episcopal  Church.  It  would  be  tedious  to 
give  all  the  details  of  the  cause  which  led  to  this  change  in  the  rel- 
ative situation  of  the  ^Methodist  societies  in  this  country  to  the 
Church  of  England,  as  well  as  all  other  religious  denominations. 
Circumstances  threatened  the  dissolution  of  Methodism  in  America, 
unless  some  remedy  could  be  applied  to  prevent  the  evil.  Be- 
fore the  Revolutionary  war,  the  prevailing  religion  in  ^Maryland  had 
been  that  of  the  Church  of  England ;  but  as  most  of  the  clergy  had 
been  loyalists,  they  left  the  country  during  the  trouble.  The  ]\leth- 
odists  had  hitherto  been  members  of  the  Church  of  England,  but 
being  der)rived  of  their  clergy,  they  found  themselves  destitute  of 
the  ordinances  of  religion,  wliich  they  were  accustomed  to  receive 
at  their  hands.  For  years  they  could  not  obtain  baptism  for  their 
children,  or  the  Lord's  Supper  for  themselves,  even  in  those  cases 
in  which  they  were  willing  to  accept  of  it  from  any  of  the  ministers 
of  other  Churches,  imlcss  they  would  leave  the  society  to  which  they 
belonged.  From  time  to  time  the  preachers  had  earnestly  impor- 
tuned JMr.  Asbury  to  take  some  measure,  that  the  people  might  no 
longer  be  deprived  of  those  privileges  which  they  believed  they 
ought  to  enjoy  as  members  of  Christ's  Church.  The  case  was  laid 
before  Mr.  Wesley,  who  considered  the  subject,  and  formed  a  de- 
sign of  drawing  up  a  plan  of  Church  government,  and  of  establishing 
a  system  of  ordinations  for  the  societies  in  America.  Having,  there- 
fore, resolved  on  the  line  of  conduct  he  would  pursue,  at  tlu'  conference 
held  in  Leeds  in  the  year  1TS4,  Mr.  Wesley  set  apart  Dr.  Coke,  as 
a  superintendent  or  bishop,  giving  him  letters  of  ordination  under 
his  hand  and  seal  to  that  effect.  Dr.  Coke  arrived  in  JSew  York, 
and  on  his  way  southward  met  ]Mr.  Asbury  in  Delaware,  and  after 
consultation  it  was  agreed  that  a  general  conference  of  the  preachers 
should  be  convoked ;  and,  accordingly,  out  of  eighty-one  American 
preachers,  sixty  assembled  on  Christmas  Eve  in  Lovely  Lone  Chapel, 
Baltimore,  where  the  form  of  government,  and  the  manner  of  wor- 
ship for  the  Methodists  in  America,  which  Mr.  Wesley  had  arranged, 
were  accepted  and  established.  The  name  of  superintendent  was 
laid  aside,  and  that  <;)f  bishop  was  substituted  in  its  place;  aud,-in 


444  Early  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July, 

pursuance  of  Mr.  Wesley's  instructions,  and  by  virtue  of  the  author- 
ity derived  from  him,  l3r.  Coke  consecrated  Mr.  Asbury  a  bishop 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  America.  It  is  pleasing  to 
perceive  with  what  readiness  and  unanimity  the  preachers  and  people 
adjusted  themselves  to  the  new  state  of  things  in  which  they  found 
themselves  placed;  adopting  such  measures  as  were  deemed  best  for 
their  future  welfare  and  prosperity.  IS'o  time  was  taken  up  by  the 
conference  in  useless  debate,  in  splitting  hairs,  in  trying  to  determine 
points  which  had  divided  the  world  for  a  thousand  years,  and  are 
no  nearer  a  settlement  now  than  at  first. 

The  religious  exercises  of  the  conference,  which  continued  ten 
days,  were  of  the  most  interesting  kind.  At  si.x  every  morning  one 
of  the  preachers  gave  the  people  a  sermon.  Dr.  Coke  preached 
every  day  at  noon,  except  on  Sundays  and  ordination  days,  when 
the  service  began  at  ten  o'clock.  It  generally  lasted  on  those  occa- 
sions four  hours,  and  the  chapel  was  full  all  the  time.  At  six  in 
the  evening,  preaching  was  kept  up  in  the  town  chapel  and  in  the 
Point,  and  also  in  the  Dutch  Church.  By  this  means  the  congrega- 
tions were  divided  ;  otherwise  there  Avould  not  have  been  half  room 
enough  for  the  people  who  attended  in  the  evening.  The  Methodists 
of  that  day  were  not  very  particular  as  to  their  bodily  comforts  in 
church,  as  they  worshipped  in  the  dead  of  winter  without  fire,  and  sat 
on  seats  without  backs.  Is'or  were  they  singular  in  this  respect. 
Dr,  Ilelner,  in  his  centenary  sermon  of  the  German  Reformed  Church 
of  this  city,  says,  quoting  from  a  letter  of  an  old  member  of  his  con- 
gregation :  "  Our  Church  was  located  up  North  Charles-street,  and 
was  approached  with  difficulty,  especially  by  the  aged  and  infirm,  on 
account  of  the  steep  hill  of  sand  they  were  obliged  to  climb  every 
Sabbath,  in  order  to  reach  their  humble  place  of  worship.  At  that 
lime  we  had  no  cushioned  scats ;  no  carpeted  aisles ;  no,  not  even  a 
stove  to  warm  the  body.  The  cold,  northwest  wind  would  pierce 
through  the  tender  weather-boarding,  an'l  almost  blow  the  light  fab- 
ric off."  The  most  pleasing  ciTect  of  this  Jlrst  general  council  of 
Methodist  preachers  was  a  great  revival  of  religion  in  Baltimore. 
■Dr.  Coke,  on  his  return  from  New-York,  February  2Gth,  says: 
"There  is  certainly  a  considerable  revival  here;  the  preaching- 
house  will  not  hold  even  my  weck-d:iy  congregations,  and  nt  five  in 
tlic  morning  the  chapel  is  about  half- full.  I  think  1  have  prevailed 
on  our  friends  in  this  place  to  build  a  new  church.  They  have 
already  subscribed  about  five  hundred  pounds  sterling." 

'The  first  Light  street  Church  was  built  on  the  lot  on  the  northwest 
comer  of  Light-strec-t  and  Wine  Alley,  the  alley  dividing  it  from  tho 
present  church ;  and  described  by  Bishop  Asbury  "  as  seventy  bj 


1856.]  Especially  in  Baltimore.  445 

forty-six  feet ;  it  is  well  fixed  for  entrances  and  light."  It  was  com- 
menced in  August,  17 S5,  but  was  not  finished  until  the  following 
spring,  when  it  was  opened  by  Bishop  Asbury,  Sunday,  May  21st, 
preaching  from  Psalm  Ixxxiv,  10  :  "1  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper," 
etc. ;  ancf  in  the  evening  from  1  Kings  ix,  6-9 ;  and  on  the  Tuesday 
niiih't  following  the  bishop,  assisted  by  Mr.  Whatcoat,  held  a  waiica- 
mecting,  and  speaks  of  it  as  a  "  moving  time." 

Amol^.g  the  many  "  liberal  things''  devised  by  Dr.  Coke  and  Bishop 
Asbury,  and  which  received   the   sanction  of  the   General   Con- 
ference of  17S4,  was  a  plan  for  establishing  a  school  or  college,  like 
that  of  Kingswood,  England,  which  was  to  be  called  Cokesbury, 
after  the  two  bishops.      The    college  was   located   at   Abingdon, 
ei'^hteen  miles  east  of  Baltimore,  Harford  county,  Maryland,  on 
four  acres  of  ground,   purchased  from   Mr.  J.   Dallam  for  sixty 
pounds.    The  building,  together  with  the  philosophical  apparatus  and 
library,  cost  upward  of  ten  thousand  pounds.     The  institution  was 
opened  on  the  10th  of  December,  17b7.  by  an  instructive  sermon 
from  Bishop  Asbury,  founded  on  2  Kings  iv,  40 :  "0  thou  man  of 
God,  there  is  death  in  the  pot."     "  When  the  college  was  built,  it 
was  well  understood,"  says  Mr.  Leo,  "  that  the  whole  management 
of  it  was  to  be  under  the  conference.     But,  after  some  years.  Bishop 
Asbury  consented  for  it  to  be  incorporated,  which  was  done  without 
the  consent  of  all  the  conferences ;  and  the  trustees  who  were  named 
in  the  act  of  incorporation  had  the  management  of  the  institution 
among  themselves,  and  the  conference  was  deprived  of  all  the  power 
of  making  rules  or  giving  orders  for  the  future  welfare  of  the  chil- 
dren.    This  step  was  disliked  by  many  of  the  friends  of  the  college, 
who  from  that  time  concluded  that  the  institution  would  not  prosper, 
and  the  business  was  not  well  conducted  afterward."     On  the  4th 
of  December,  1795,  ten  years  after  it  was  opened,  the  college  was 
set  on  fire  bv  design  and  burned  down.     The  governor  of  the  state 
offered  a  tliousand  dollars  reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  person 
or  persons  who  perpetrated  the  deed,  but  without  cficct.     Mo  ways 
discouraged  by  this  severe  calamity,   seventeen  of  the  principal 
MelhodiJts  of  Baltimore  met  together,  and  believing  that  the  honour 
and  credit  of  the  Church  demanded  exertion  to  supply  the  place  of 
Cokesbury.  they  immediately  subscribed  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  toward  the  erection  of  a  new  college.     The  proprietor  of 
the   Fountain  Inn,    in   Baltimore,  had  built  a   large   and   elegant 
assemblv-room  for  balls,  concerts,  card-parties.  cV.c.     The  building, 
VN-bich  stood  on  the  lot  where  the  present  Light- street  Church  is, 
was   the  handsomest   edifice   in  the  city,  and  was   purchased  for 
one  thousand  five  hundred  and  thirty  pounds.     The  members  of 


446  Earlij  Methodism  in  Maryland,  [July, 

the  Church  at  large  subscribed  seven  hundred  pounds,  and  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  city,  upon  application  from  house  to  house,  six  hundred 
pounds ;  and  the  above-mentioned  seventeen  went  security  for  the 
remaining  two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds.  The  college,  or  academy, 
was  accordingly  fitted  up,  live  masters  appointed,  and  the  whole 
city  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  sending  their  children  to  this 
academy,  which  soon  iiourished  beyond  what  Cokesbury  had  ever 
done,  having  as  many  at  one  time  as  two  hundred  pupils. 

This  assembly-room  has  a  history  which  should  not  be  forgotten 
by  the  Methodists.  While  its  professed  object  was  to  furnish  amuse- 
ment for  the  sons  and  daughters  of  fashion,  it  was  also  built  in  part 
to  grieve  the  Methodists  by  interrupting  their  meetings,  in  the  church 
adjacent,  the  balls  and  concerts  being  generally  held,  and  of  set  pur- 
pose, on  the  same  nights.  "  It  was  a  strange  sight  to  look  upon,"  as 
one  said  who  participated  in  these  scenes,  "at  the  same  time  for  fid- 
dling and  dancing  to  be  going  on  in  one  room,  and  singing  and  praying 
in  the  other,  and  within  hearing  of  each  other."  In  the  midst  of  these 
dissimilar  movements  the  loud  Amen  would  be  heard,  and  the  shout 
of  one  or  more  brought  from  darkness  to  light  would  fall  upon  the 
cars  of  the  giddy  dancers,  who  would  break  ranks  and  run  to  the  win- 
dows to  ascertain  the  cause.  "Wearied  out  at  length  by  these  repeated 
interruptions,  and  finding  the  Z^lcthodists  were  not  to  be  put  down 
by  the  imited  force  of  heels  and  fiddle-strings,  they  began  to  think 
of  capitulating ;  moreover,  such  conduct  was  opposed  to  the  spirit 
into  which  the  nation  had  been  lately  baptized  by  the  war  of  inde- 
pendence, securing  to  every  man  the  privilege  of  worshipping  God, 
'•  sitting  under  his  o\vu  vine  and  fig-tree,  none  daring  to  make  him 
afraid."  One  thing  more  hastened  the  consummation  of  this  folly. 
A  Mr.  Brydon,  who  kept  the  Fountain  Inn,  was  the  principal  pro- 
moter of  this  opposition  to  the  Methodists.  He  had  been  barber  to 
some  of  the  English  ofiiccrs  during  the  Revolutionary  war,  but  had 
settled  in  Baltimore  after  peace  wos  proclaimed,  and  aiTectcd  to  be 
a  great  gentleman,  dressing  like  a  lord,  with  powdered  wig,  as  for 
some  state  occasion.  It  was  the  aristocratic  house;  merchants, 
officers  of  the  army,  and  even  General  Washington,  in  passing 
through  Baltimore,  would  put  up  with  him.  This  inflamed  his 
vanity,  and,  besides,  he  was  a  deadly  foe  in  religious  matters  to 
any  one  who  was  not  a  staunch  Church  of  England  man ;  accordingly, 
to  show  his  contempt  for  the  Methodists,  he  hired  three  Scotchmen 
one  nigl'it  to  go  over  to  Light-street  Church  to  interrupt  a  meeting 
of  business  then  going  on.  Two  of  them  took  a  station  outside  to 
watch,  while  one  went  in  and  seated  himself  in  a  defiant  attitude. 
The  sextou  went  to  him  and  requested  him  to  retire,  alleging  that 


1856.]  Especially  in  Baltimore.  447 

the  meeting  was  one  of  business.  To  this  civil  treatment  he 
received  nothing  but  insolence  and  bravado.  Mr.  William  Hawkins, 
one  of  the  leaders,  and  a  man  six  feet  in  height,  came  forward  to 
put  him  out,  when  his  two  comrades  came  to  his  assistance,  and  a 
considerable  battle  ensued;  but  the  belligerents  were  beaten  off,  and 
next  day  taken  before  a  magistrate  and  fined  one  hundred  dollars 
each.  Brjdon,  the  knight  of  the  Eazor,  vras  made  to  feel  at  another 
point.  The  merchants  and  other  boarders  took  up  t)ie  subject 
next  morning  at  breakfast,  and  discussed  it  freely,  alleging  that 
such  conduct  vras  an  insult  to  the  American  people,  and  that  no 
7o?"//  should  disturb  any  religious  denomination  with  impunity, 
whereupon  they  agreed  to  leave  his  house  in  a  body.  Poor  Othello's 
occupation  being  gone,  he  left  the  place,  and  the  assembly-room 
was  vacated,  when  the  Methodists  purchased  it  for  an  academy. 

How  vain  are  human  wishes  I  One  year  from  the  time  that  Cokes- 
bury  College  at  xVbingdon  was  burned,  a  fire  broke  out  in  a  carpen- 
ter's shop  adjoining  the  academy,  burning  it  to  the  ground;  thence 
extending  to  the  church,  and  consuming  it  also,  together  with  several 
valuable  private  dwellings.  The  fire  occurred  at  3  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  while  11  ev.  Henry  AVillis  was  preaching  the  funeral  ser- 
mon of  Mr.  Colvin,  father  of  the  late  Miss  llachel  Colvin,  of  Baltimore. 
The  congregation  had  barely  time  to  escape,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty the  corpse  could  be  rescued  from  the  flames.  The  foundation 
of  the  assembly-room  was  chosen  for  the  present  Light- street  Church, 
which  was  erected  in  the  year  1707,  and  was  opened  for  religious 
services  October  t^Oth,  by  Bishop  Asbury,  with  reading  2  Chron. 
vii;  xii ;  Psalm  cxxxii;  Haggai  ii ;  Mark  ii.  The  subject  was  Eph. 
ii,  19-22.  JNIany  have  been  the  thrilling  scenes  and  touching  inci- 
dents which  have  occurred  during  the  last  sixty  years  within  the 
walls  of  this  venerable  house  of  God ;  the  mention  of  which  vrould 
shed  new  lustre  upon  the  memory  of  those  men  who  preached 
here,  and  who  so  well  and  successfully  prepared  the  way  of  the 
Lord  for  us  who  have  fallen  upon  these  last  days ;  days  when  Meth- 
odism is  co-extensive  with  the  civilisation  of  the  world.  There 
is  one  circumstance  of  recent  occurrence  in  connection  with  this 
house  which  not  to  speak  of  would  be  unjust  to  the  Methodists  of 
Baltimore.  It  was  the  arrival  among  them,  a  short  time  since,  of 
two  distinguished  strangers  as  a  deputation,  asking  for  aid  to  spread 
the  light  of  a  pure  Christianity  through  Roman  Catholic  L-eland ; 
the  country  from  whence  we  first  received  the  word  of  life  ourselves. 
The  response  to  the  call  was  by  no  means  equal  to  the  justice  of  the 
demand,  and  was  far,  very  far  below  our  expectations  and  wishes  ; 
but  we  lacked  the  best  oi)portnnity.     May  we  not  hope,  therefore, 


448  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  [July, 

that  -n-hat  was  done  is  but  tbe  first-fruits  of  an  abundant  harvest 
•which  -will  be  gathered  hereafter?  Let  the  news  go  then  back  to 
London  and  to  Dublin,  as  ^Ye  know  it  will,  and  to  the  banks  of  the 
lovely  Shannon,  where  Strawbridge  drew  his  natal  breath,  that  we 
never  can  be  ungrateful  for  Ireland's  first,  best  gift,  and  for 
Maryland's  first  missionary. 


Art.  VI.— AKERS'S  BIBLICAL  CHRONOLOGY. 

Introduciicm  to  Biblical  Chronology,  from  Adam  to  the  Resurrection  of  Christ: 
comprising  5373  Years  of  tha  V/orlJ,  synchronized  with  Julian  Time.  AVith 
such  Calendars,  Cycles,  Tables,  and  Explanations,  as  to  render  the  whole  Subject- 
easy  of  Comprehension  to  every  Bible  Student.  T>y  Rf.v.  Petep.  Akers,  D.  D., 
President  of  I^FKendree  College.  Cincinnati:  Frinted  at  the  Methodist  Book 
Concern,  for  the  Author.     ISoy.     8vo.,  pp.  41L 

The  mode  in  which  the  author  of  the  treatise  before  ns  arrives  at 
the  chronological  sum  announced  in  the  title-page,  is,  as  we  have 
sifted  it  from  his  pages,  briefly  this :  The  Septuagint  is  relied  upon 
to  furnish  tbe  patriarchal  chronology  thi'oughout;  the  only  cor- 
rection represented  (p.  13)  as  necessary  in  tliat  period,  being  the 
addition  (usual  with  all  chronologcrs)  of  GO  years  to  the  apparent 
age  of  Terah  (70)  before  the  birth  of  Abram,  as  obviously  required 
by  Gen.  xi,  32,  compared  with  xii,  4.  Thus  a  period  of  239-1  years 
is  made  out.  from  Adam  to  Abraham.  Now  at  this  point,  we  beg 
leave  to  say,  in  passing,  that  vre  totally  dissent  from  this  view  of  the 
relative  authority  of  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  texts  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, and,  consequently,  of  the  authenticity  of  the  numbers  contained 
in  them  respectively;  and  had  we  room,  we  think  Ave  could  show 
the  fallacy  of  every  argument  urged  in  favor  of  the*  "longer  chro- 
nology," by  its  several  advocates,  from  Jackson  to  Russell  and 
Rales,  and  their  echo,  the  author  of  the  "  Sacred  Annals."  But  we 
do  not  deem  it  important  to  our  present  purpose  to  discuss  this 
issue,  although  we  thus  enter  our  protest  against  a  preference,  which, 
we  are  free  to  confess,  hovrever.  is  growing  rather  fashionable  Arith 
popular  chronologcrs.  We  will  merely  j;eraark  here,  that,  aside 
from  Joscphus,  (whoso  numbers,  after  all,  are  not  followed,  where 
they  differ  from  the  Septuagint  and  agree  with  the  Hebrew,)  the 
only  collateral  authorities  adduced  by  Dr.  Akers  (p.  Iti)  in  support 
of  his  version  of  the  longer  chronology,  are  two  or  three  general 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  449 

statements  of  early  "nriters,  who  follow  the  Septuagint  apparently 
because  they  were  unacquainted  with  the  Hebrew.^ 

Passing  this  point,  therefore,  the  author's  line  of  Biblical  chro- 
nology proceeds  as  follows.  The  interval  of  430  years  assigned  in 
Exod.  xiii,  40,  41,  is  allowed  by  all  to  cover  the  space  between  the 
call  of  Abraham  (when  he  was  75  years  old)  and  the  Exode.  From 
tliis  point  we  arc  not  at  liberty  to  reckon  4S0  years  at  once  to  the 
founding  of  the  temple,  iu  the  fourth  of  Solomon,  (as  in  1  Kings 
vi,  1,)  but  we  must  make  up  the  period  by  putting  together  the 
items  composing  it.  These,  according  to  Dr.  Akers,  are  as  follows : 
Moses  governed,  40  years;  Joshua's  conquest  of  Canaan,  5  years; 
judges,  450  years;  Eli's  last  years,  10;  servitude  to  Philistines, 
20  years;   Samuel  governed,  1'2  years;   Saul,  40  years;    David, 

*  The  Ilebrcv  chronological  numbers  of  the  patriarchal  period  are  adopted  in 
the  table  at  the  close  of  this  article,  not  only  as  being  more  convenient  and  better 
known — and  it  really  raattcrs  little  for  practical  purposes  -which  theory  be  true, 
with  reference  to  these  isolated  and  far-distant  dates — but  also  from  a  settled 
conviction  of  their  superior  authority.  There  is  not  adequate  room  for  the  dis- 
cussion of  this  question  here.  The  follov>ing  loading  points  of  the  argument, 
however,  may  be  suggested:  (1)  The  Hebrew,  as  being  the  undoubted  original, 
ought  to  be  presumed  to  be  more  authentic  than  any  version ;  the  Septuagiat, 
the  Samaritan,  and  Josephus  cannot  justly  be  placed  on  a  level  with  it :  (2)  These 
latter  dilTer  as  irreconcilably  from  each  other  as  from  the  Hebrew;  if,  therefore, 
we  abandon  this,  we  are  left  to  an  arbitrary  and  conjectural  selection  between  the 
others  :  (3)  The  assumption  that  the  iMasorites  corrupted  the  .Jewish  Scriptures 
in  these  passages,  is  not  only  wholly  gratuitous  and  ungenerous,  but  opposed  to 
all  that  we  know  of  their  character  and  conduct  in  the  matter;  moreover,  no 
adequ.\te  motive  can  be  assigned  for  such  a  wholesale  and  systematic  alteration 
of  these  texts,  whereas  they  had  strong  inducements  to  corrupt  other  passages, 
which  they  have  nevertheless  left  unaltered,  e.  g.,  the  Messianic  prophecy  of  the 
"seventy  weeks;"  on  the  other  hand,  the  inextricable  state  of  corruption  into 
which  the  other  versions  have  fallen,  is  well  known  to  every  critic:  (t)  Every 
argument  drawn  from  the  alleged  coincidences,  improbabilities,  and  inconsist- 
encies of  the  Hebrew  dates,  may  with  equal  and  even  greater  force  be  retorted 
upon  the  other  schomcs;  the  He'}r(--.7  text  at  least  exhibits  no  impossibilities, 
and  whatever  diiliculties  it  presents  at  lirst  sight,  are  rather  c\  iJcncus  of  honesty 
than  otherwise,  for  iu  an  artificial  arrangement  they  would  be  sure  to  have 
been  avoided:  (o)  The  fact  that  the  other  chronologies  agree  in  being  of  greater 
length,  and  therefore  approach  more  nearly  those  compiled  from  heathen  sources, 
so  far  from  being  an  argument  in  their  favour,  is  of  itself  the  highest  proof  of 
collusion  between  them,  a  suspicion  to  which  they  are  cmiiiontty  liable  from 
their  historical  origin  ;  but  all  these  profane  chronologies  arc  tlanisclves  of  very 
doubtful  character,  resting  on  the  most  uncertain  data,  many  of  them  being,  in 
fact,  tlie  mere  legends  of  mythology,  and  other-  made  up  of  fabulous  eras  and 
preposterous  dynasties;  and,  after  all,  the  most  protr^ictcd  chronology  that  caa 
be  compiled  from  among  these  rival  versions  of  the  Bible,  falls  far  short,  in  point 
of  duration,  of  the  least  extravagant  among  these  widely  variant  calculations 
of  profane  history. 


450  Ake7's's  Biblical  Chronologi/.  [July, 

40  years ;  beginning  of  Solomon's  reign,  4  years ;  making  a  total  of 
C21  years,  (p.  240,)  which,  the  author  maintains  in  a  long  and 
intricate  discussion,  (p.  229,  ct  seq.,)  is  the  true  number  recorded 
by  Josephus.  ^Vhether  this  last  be  the  case  or  not,  matters  very 
little  to  us,  since  Aye  have  most  of  the  items  expressly  given  us  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  totals  found  at  the  titles  of  chapters  and  sections 
of  Josephus,  and  even  in  the  text  itself,  are  palpably  inaccurate  and 
contradictory:  it  is  only  his  individual  statements  of  dates  that  do 
not  occur  in  the  Bible,  that  are  valuable  in  making  out  the  chro- 
nology. The  passage  iu  1  Kings  above  cited,  is  generally  admitted  to 
be  hopelessly  corrupt,  if  not  altogether  an  interpolation.  Indeed,  its 
computation  cannot  be  conformed  to  the  sum  of  the  items  included 
in  that  period,  Avithout  the  most  violent  shortening  and  parallelizing 
of  these  items ;  and  is,  moreover,  absolutely  irreconcilable  -with  the 
450  years  assigned  by  Paul  (in  Acts  xiii,  20)  to  the  judges  alone. 
But  "\ve  think  Dr.  Akcrs  has  fallen  into  several  serious  errors  in  the 
foregoing  distribution  of  this  period,  and  hence  has  assigned  it  an 
incoi-rect  length. 

In  the  first  place,  the  conquest  of  Canaan  occupied  G  years, 
instead  of  5,  as  is  clear  from  the  comparative  statement  of  Caleb's 
age  in  Josh,  xiv,  7, 10.  The  time  from  which  the  years  there  men- 
tioned are  enumerated,  was  one  year  after  the  Exode ;  and  it  is  this 
discrepancy  that  has  insinuated  itself  into  Josephus  and  all  who 
have  followed  him.     (See  Browne's  Ordo  Saclorum,  p,  275.) 

The  second  error  v.hich  wc  have  to  point  out  in  this  part  of  the 
calculation,  is  a  more  important  one,  and  involves  several  subordinate 
inaccuracies.  It  is  in  the  computation  of  Paul's  450  years  of  the 
judges.  Dr.  Akers  makes  these  begin  immediately  after  the  con- 
quest of  Canaan,  and  the  text  in  Acts  xiii,  20,  appears  at  first  sight 
to  favour  that  view;  but  the  narrative  in  the  Old  Testament  itself 
forbids  such  a  computation.  We  arc  there  expressly  told  that 
Joshua  governed  the  people  many  years  after  that  event,  and  that 
the  elders  who  survived  him  succeeded  for  some  3'ears  still  longer 
in  the  government,  (Josh,  xxiv,  31 ;  Judg.  ii,  G.)  How  long  this 
period  was  can  only  be  approximately  determined,  so  far  as  sacred 
authority  goes,  from  the  length  of  .Joshua's  life,  and  the  indefinite 
connected  statements.  As  he  was  110  years  old  Mdien  he  died,  and 
was  probably  about  Caleb's  age  at  the  Exode,  his  government  after 
the  war  of  extermination  may  have  lasted  about  25  years ;  and  we 
may  conjecture  about  20  years  more  fur  the  survivorship  of  the 
"  elders,"  and  of  the  other  influential  men  of  that  generation,  during 
whose  lifetime  the  people  were  restrained  from  that  idolatry  for 
which  they  were  immediately  afterward  punished  by  the  first'^sub- 


185C.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  451 

jugation,  (Judg.  ii,  10.)  It  was  evidently  during  this  latter  period 
of  anarchy,  that  the  events  related  in  the  first  two  and  last  five 
chapters  of  the  book  of  Judges  took  place.  It  is  desirable  to  fis 
the  length  of  these  two  intervals  more  precisely.  This  can  only  be 
done  by  the  help  of  Josephus.  He  states  positively  that  Joshua 
survived  Moses,  in  the  government,  '25  years,  [Antiq.  V,  i,  29,) 
which  Avill  leave  19  years  after  the  extermination  of  the  Canaanites. 
He  probably  derived  his  information  from  tradition,  and  there  is  no 
reason  to  question  its  accuracy.  He  also  states,  (ib.  28,)  that 
Joshua  g  death  occurred  in  the  20th  year  after  the  end  of  his  wars ; 
which  agrees  with  the  above.  As  to  the  interval  of  anarchy  imme- 
diately following,  JosephiiS  does  not  mention  its  length  in  recount- 
ing the  incidents  during  its  continuance,  {Antiq.  V,  ii,)  and  he  also 
omits  it  in  the  total  of  the  years  at  the  title  of  the  book,  as  we  shall 
more  particularly  see  presently.  Hence  chronologers  have  been 
greatly  at  fault  here,  and  have  usually  resorted  to  conjecture,  when 
they  have  taken  account  of  this  interval  at  all.  Dr.  Akers  includes 
it  in  the  450  years  of  the  judges,  but  in  his  table  (p.  330)  he  assigns 
10  years  as  its  duration.  Had  he  consulted  his  favourite  author  a 
little  more  carefully,  however,  he  would  not  have  committed  this 
mistake,  for  a  little  further  on  Josephus  states  in  the  most  explicit 
manner  that  it  continued  IS  years,  {Antiq.  VI,  v,  4.)*     Thus  we 

•*  Jackson  [Chronclogical  Antiquities,  London,  1752,  vol.  i,  p.  13C)  endeiivours 
to  fritter  away  this  interval  to  two  years,  and  Russell  (in  his  Coiviexion  of 
Sacred  and  Profane  History,  Loudon,  1827,  p.  127)  includes  in  it  the  eight  years 
of  oppression  by  the  Mesopotamian?.  This  latter  period,  hoM'ever,  is  distincuishei 
by  Josephus  from  the  anarchy,  as  appears  from  the  table  given  below.  U  is  not 
a  little  remarkable  how  universally  chronologers  have  overlooked  this  imi>ortant 
passage  of  Josephus,  (for  we  have  not  met  with  more  than  two  or  three  who 
even  allude  to  it,)  although  they  differ  widely  in  their  conjectures  respecting 
the  length  of  the  interval  itself.  Yet  there  it  stands,  plain  and  positive,  in  ihc- 
text  of  Josephus.  'We  translate  literally  from  Hudson's  edition,  (O.xfori.  1720, 
voL  i,  23G,)  "And  thus  the  government  of  the  Hebrews  changed  to  a  monarchy. 
For  under  Moses  and  his  disciple  Joshua,  who  was  general,  they  continued  to 
be  gx)verned  by  an  aristocracy ;  but  after  his  [other  copies  read,  tkcir]  death,  for 
the  whole  ten  and,  in  addition  to  those,  eight  years,  an  anarchy  prevailed  among 
their  community  (utrH  6e  tjjv  inciiov  \JKdvuv,  Havcrcamp,  322]  -rc/.tvri/v,  Ircci  toI; 
T^uai  drna  koI  rrpog  TovToig  oktu,  ru  Tr/.^i?of  avrCiv  uvapxia  Kariax^-)  -^"^  after  this 
they  returned  to  their  former  government,  allowing  him  that  appeared  to  have  been 
best  in  war  and  for  courage,  to  decide  respecting  the  whole,  [or,  as  some  coj.ies  read, 
the  rest;]  and,  accordingly,  they  called  this  period  of  their  government,  that  of 
Judges."  Vignoles  {Chrowjlogie  dc  I'Histoire  Saintc,  Berlin,  173S,  vol.  i.  p.  IG) 
refers  to  this  passage,  and  expresses  his  surprise  that  it  should  be  so  little 
noticed  by  chronologers,  of  whose  computations  on  this  period  he  gives  a  full 
recapitulation:  among  all  these  Vossius  alone  has  IS  years. 

The  assignment  of  18  years  by  Josephus  to  this  anarchy,  as  a  specific  period, 


452 


Akers's  Biblical  Chronology. 


[July, 


have  a  clear  interval,  if  we  may  rely  upon  Joscphus,  (and  we  have 
no  other  numbers  in  the  case,)  of  43  years  between  the  death  of 
Moses  and  the  beginning  of  the  era  of  the  judges. 

It  remains  to  identify  the  period  of  450  years  mentioned  by  Paul. 
To  us  it  seems  perfectly  clear  that  the  apostle  obtained  that  num- 
ber in  the  most  natural  manner,  namely,  by  simply  adding  together 
the  years  of  the  alternate  subjugations  and  judgeships,  as  given  in 
the  Old  Testament;.  We  have  only  to  do  the  same,  and  the  result 
at  once  clears  up  the  whole  subject,  and  also  shows  hovv"  Josephus 
computed  this  entire  period. 


Eib'c. 

Yrs. 

Ruler. 

_Z!1 

Josepbus. 

Josh,  xxiv 

,29 

_ 

Joshua 

25 

Antiq.  V,  i,      29 

Judg.  i,  ii 

— 

Anarchy 

— 

'•        "  ii 

"      iii, 

8 

8 

^Icsopotamians 
Oihniel 

8 

"        "  iii,      2 

«        »; 

10 

40 

40 

"        '■•    "       3  and  title 

«       (( 

11 

18 

jVIoabites 

18 

"  iv,      1    "      " 

((          u 

30 

80 

Ehud 

80 

"    "        3    «      " 

«         (( 

31 

0 

Shamjiar 

1 

a          ti    ((         (( 

"     iv, 

3 

20 

Canaanites 

20 

*(                 U      y                  2        "            " 

"        V, 

31 

40 

Barak 

40 

('                It       U              ^        ((           (i 

«      vi, 

1 

7 

Midianites 

7 

«                 it     yi                          ((            U 

«      vlii, 

28 

40 

Gideon 

40 

"       "                 7 

«     ix, 

22 

3 

Abimelech 

3 

"        "  vii,     2 

"         X, 

2 

23 

Tola 

[23] 

((      t( 

3 

22 

Jair 

22 

"        "    »       6 

«      u 

8 

18 

Ammonites 

18 

u     «       10 

"      xii, 

7 

G 

Jcphthah 

6 

"    "      12 

((       (( 

9 

7 

Ibzau 

7 

"    «      13 

u         a 

11 

10 

Elon 

10 

"    «      14 

«         i( 

14 

8 

Abdon 

[8] 

"    "      15 

«      xiii, 

1 

40 

Philistines 

40 

"        "  viii,    1 

"      xvi, 

31 

20 

Samson 

20 

"     "     12 

1  Sam.  iv, 

18 

40 

Eli 

40 

"        "  xi,       3 

Acts     xiii, 

20 

T50 

Total 

476 

"  title 

■  Dr.  Akers  therefore  falls  into  three  other  errors  in  the  latter 
part  of  this  list;  for  he  makes  the  rule  of  Eli  extend  10  years 
beyond  this  period ;  he  also  includes  Samson's  20  years  of  judgeship 
in  the  40  years  of  the  Philistine  supremacy,  (table,  p.  344 ;)  and  he 

is  also  confirmed  by  his  statement,  {.-Jntiq.  XT,  v,  8,)  tbat  the  nionocratic  judges 
were  a  "form  of  governmeut  that  continued  for  more  than  oOO  years,"  between 
Joshua  and  Saul;  and  we  accordinp:ly  nnd  that  by  taking  his  numbers  of  the 
several  portions  of  tbis  interval  wc  havo  just  .301  years  in  all ;  namely,  18  years  of 
anarchy  +  451  years  of  judges  {i.  e  ,  47G  as  below — 25  of  Joshua)  +  20  of  the  Ark 
at  Kirjath-jcarim  +  12  of  Saujucl.  That  he  intends  in  that  passage  to  indicate 
the  interval  with  such  exactness,  is  evident  from  his  giving,  in  immediate  con- 
nexion, the  precise  period  during  which  the  regal  government  lasted,  namely, 
632  years,  6  months,  and  10  days;  which,  however,  is  (by  27  years)  too  long, 


1S56.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  453 

finally  makes  Eli's  40  years  include  the  first  10  of  Samuel,  (table, 
p.  345.)  Of  all  the  methods  of  adjusting  Paul's  450  years  of  the 
judges,  that  we  have  ever  seen,  this  is  certainly  the  most  incon- 
sistent. Ohronologcrs,  in  consequence  of  the  prevalent  idea  that  the 
apostle's  period  is  intended  to  cover  e.xplicitly  the  whole  interval 
between  the  dispossession  of  the  Canaanites  and  the  accession  of 
Saul,  or  at  least  of  Samuel  as  judge,  have  been  compelled  to  do 
violence  to  the  numbers  and  order  of  the  sacred  narrative  some- 
where, (usually  by  making  Samson  and  Eli  contemporary  with  the 
40  years  of  the  Philistine  servitude,)  in  order  to  dispose  of  the 
surplus  years  which  their  interpretation  gave  them.  This  practice 
appears  to  be  a  relic  of  the  old  attempt  to  crowd  the  entire  period 
within  the  space  required  by  the  480  years  of  1  Kings.  On  the 
contrary,  Paul  is  speaking  of  the  proper  period  of  the  judges  only, 
yet  of  the  whole  of  them  ;  and  is  careful  to  insert  the  note  of  indcfin- 
iteness,  "  about,''  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  covering  the  interval 
of  anarchy  between  the  death  of  Eli,  the  last  proper  judge,  and  the 
establishment  of  Samuel  the  prophet  as  a  link  between  the  judge- 
ship and  monarch}'.  Josephus  evidently  understood  the  judges  and 
servitudes  as  following  one  another  in  regular  succession,  just  as 
the  narrative  spontaneously  suggests ;  for  he  not  only  enumerates 
them  thus  in  his  history  and  computations,-  but  he  says  expressly 
that  Samson's  20  years  began  with  the  deliverance  from  the  Philis- 
tines when  it  had  lasted  40  years,  (^Anliq.  V,  viii,  1,  12,)  that  Eli 
immediately  succeeded  Samson,  {ib.  i.x,  1,)  and  that  an  interval  of 
20  years  elapsed  between  the  capture  of  the  ark,  at  Eli's  death, 
and  Samuel's  assumption  of  power,  {ib.  VI,  1,  4.)     We  think  the 

as  elsewhere  (l3ut  by  a  different  excess)  in  Lis  summaries  of  the  reigns,  owing  to 
his  inaccurate  computation  of  some  of  them,  or  perhaps  the  corruption  of  hia 
text.  Again,  precisely  this  anarchy  of  IS  years  is  evidently  omitted  in  his  sum 
of  the  years  of  the  high  priests  between  the  ExoJc  and  the  founding  of  Solomon's 
temple,  (Jnliq.  XX,  x,  1,)  which  he  states  as  being  an  interval  of  GIJ  years, 
(i.  r,  'iO  of  the  wandering  +  the  47G  of  Joshua  and  the  judges  below  -|-  -0  of  the 
Ark  at  Kirjath-jearim  4-  12  of  Samuel  +  20  of  Saul  +  40  of  David  -f  4  of  Solo- 
mon;)  adding  likewise  the  precise  time  thence  to  the  destruction  of  the  city, 
namely,  4GG  years,  G  months,  and  10  days,  (in  this  instance  too  long  by  45 
years :  the  intervening  reigns,  as  given  by  himself  in  detail,  make  up  4C9  years, 
including  the  extra  40  years  allotted  by  him  to  Solomon;  the  intervals  stated  in 
the  titles  to  books  VIU  and  IX,  with  the  12-3  years  of  book  X.  x,  5,  amount  to 
441  yours,  for  the  same  period,  which,  however,  is  estimated  in  book  X,  viii,  4  and  6, 
as  having  contiuucd  47U^^  years.)  The  same  computation,  G12,  again  occurs  in 
his  treatise  againiH  Jlplon,  ii,  2.  In  tl.o  oOJ  years  of  the  same  period,  in  Jlntiq. 
Vlll,  iii,  1  ;  X,  viii.  5,  (which  are  evidently  but  the  sum  of  the  numbers  in  the 
titles  of  the  books,)  the  20  years  of  the  Ark  at  Kirjath-jearim  are  also  omitted. 
Tho  numbers  iu  Jntiq.  IX,  xiv,  1,  are  evidently  corrupt. 


454  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  [^^ulj, 

sanction  of  the  apostle  ought  to  settle  this  as  the  true  method  of 
enumeration. 

The  interim  between  Eli's  death  and  the  deliverance  by  Samuel 
at  Mizpch,  Dr.  Akcrs  correctly  admits,  namely,  20  years,  (1  Sam. 
vii,  2,  and  Josephus  as  above,)  including  the  7  months'  detention  of 
the  sacred  ark  among  the  Philistines,  (1  Sam.  vi,  1.)  The  ad- 
ministration of  Samuel  alone  as  judge  after  this,  he  also  correctly 
assigns  as  continuing  12  years  :  the  length  of  this  period  is  nowhere 
given  in  Scripture,  although  it  is  stated  to  have  lasted  "  all  the  days 
of  Samuel's  life,"  and  till  "  Samuel  was  old,"  (1  Sam.  vii,  15 ;  viii,  1 ;) 
but  it  is  expressly  said  by  Josephus  to  have  continued  12  years, 
(Antiq.  Yl,  xiii,  5;  the  20  years  of  Samuel's  private  life  preceding 
being  there  overlooked,  as  well  as  in  the  title  to  the  book.)  To  the 
reigns  of  Saul,  David,  and  Solomon,  Dr.  Akers  assigns  the  usual 
length  of  40  years  each ;  the  first  on  the  authority  of  the  above- 
mentioned  passage  of  Paul,  (Acts  xiii,  21,)  although  that  would 
seem  a  long  time  for  the  events  of  the  history,  and  Joseplius  appears 
to  give  but  20  years;  (title  to  Antiq.  YI;  more  exj)licit  is  Antiq. 
X,  viii,  4;  the  correct  numbers  in  Antiq.  YI,  xiv,  9,  are  doubtless 
IS  +  2 ;)  and  the  latter  two  on  the  express  testimony  of  the  history, 
(1  Kings  ii,  11 ;  xi,  42.  Josephus  erroneously  puts  do'^vn  Solomon's 
reign  at  SO  years,  Andq.  YHl,  vii,  U.) 

Wc  come  now  to  the  most  intricate  portion  of  the  Biblical  his- 
tory, rendered  so  by  the  very  abundance  of  its  dates,  that  serve  as 
a  mutual  check  and  confirmation  ;  and  which  we  propose,  there- 
fore, to  use  as  our  main  test  of  Dr.  Akers's  chronology.  We  refer  to 
the  parallel  lines  of  the  kings  of  Judah  and  Israel,  which  are  so 
dove-tailed  and  interlaced  into  each  other,  and  the  details  withal 
given  with  so  much  minuteness  and  precision,  that  all  we  have  to  do 
is  to  adjust  and  harmonize  thom  with  one  another.  On  this  import- 
ant part  of  the  history,  we  remark,  therefore,  in  the  outset,  that  Dr. 
Akers  virtually  abanduns  the  true  field  of  the  chronologer  altogether, 
by  the  plump  assertion,  that  "  it  is  impossible  to  harmonize  the 
length  and  commencement  of  the  several  reigns,  in  each  line,  with 
their  Scriptural  dates."  (p.  241.)  Pray  then,  we  naturally  ask,  to 
what  authority  shall  we  appeal,  in  determining  these  items,  since 
this  is  the  only  authentic  evidence  in  the  matter?  Josephus,  in  al- 
most every  instance,  coniirms  the  numbers  as  they  stand  in  the 
Bible,  and  conjecture  is  surely  a  presumptuous  resort  in  the  face  of 
explicit  records.  If  the  chronologer  Cuds  himself  unable  to  recon- 
cile the  statements  of  bis  authorities,  his  acknoAvledged  l\iilure  in 
the  task  he  has  assumed,  is  at  least  no  reason  why  others  should 
not  make  the  attempt.     For  our  own  part,   we   do  not  admit 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  455 

any  such  irreconcilable  discrepancies  in  the  inspired  volume,  and 
we  certainly  can  perceive  no  such  impossibility  in  the  clear  and 
ample  archives  of  this  period.  Indeed,  -wc  flatter  ourselves  that 
"we  have  actually  succeeded  in  crossin,:;  securely  tliis  "  pons  asino- 
rum"  of  chronologcrs,  and  ^vc  offer  the  benefit  of  our  researches, 
in  the  table  appended  to  this  paper,  to  any  -who,  like  our  author,  in 
despair  of  the  Scriptural  structure,  have  set  to  work  to  span  the 
chasm  by  their  own  ingenuity.  Of  the  adjustment  which  we  thus 
propose,  we  Avill  merely  say  here,  that  it  meets,  so  far  as  we  have 
been  able  to  discover — after  diligent  examination  of  the  Bible  itself, 
and  comparison  with  numei'ous  chronological  schemes — every  re- 
quirement of  the  sacred  taxi,  explaining  all  apparent  contradictions 
by  a  comparison  between  them  alone.  The  result,  thus  braced  and 
confirmed  by  a  combination  of  definite  particulars,  cannot,  we  be- 
lieve, be  successfully  impugned ;  because  an  alteration  of  a  single 
year  at  almost  any  point,  would  make  it  fail  to  tally  with  some 
explicit  note  of  time  found  in  tlie  history.  We  will  not  say,  Avith 
the  positivene.ss  of  Dr.  Akers,  "  it  is  proved,"  (opening  clause 
of  the  preface,)  "  it  is  demonstrated,"  (p]).  79,  289,  and  often,) 
BO  and  so ;  but,  since  we  (as  doubtless  also  he)  aro  simply 
seeking  the  truth,  we  do  not  reject  one  system,  without  pro- 
posing another  that  Ave  deem  more  accurate  ;  and  wc  shall  feel 
obliged  to  Dr.  Akers,  or  to  any  one  else,  if  he  will  point  out  any 
error  that  he  may  discover  in  it.  We  have  no  ulterior  theory  to 
support  by  these  computations,  and  therefore  wc  can  cheerfully 
afford  to  make  any  requisite  correction  in  them.  Brevity  compels 
us  to  refer  to  the  table  for  many  details ;  wc  propose  here  to  notice 
only  those  points  where  Dr.  Akers,  as  we  conceive,  has  materially 
en-ed  in  his  attempt  to  adjust  these  reigns. 

Dr.  Akers  contends  (p.  242)  that  iS'adab  must  have  reigned  his 
two  years  (1  Kings  xv,  25)  principally  as  associate  with  his  father, 
since  he  began  to  reign  in  the  2d  year  of  Asa,  (1  Kings,  just'  cited.) 
and  was  succeeded  by  Baasha  in  Asa's  3d  year,  (ver.  28,  33.)  But 
there  is  no  necessity  for  such  a  supposition ;  for,  as  Jeroboam  I. 
evidently  reigned  only  22  current  years,  so  these  2  years  are  like- 
wise current,  namely,  from  the  middle  of  Asa's  2d  to  the  latter  part 
of  his  3d  year.     (See  our  Table.) 

Dr.  Akers  arbii,rarily  extends  (p.  243)  the  reign  of  Jchoram  I. 
(of  Israel)  to  17  years,  instead  of  12,  (2  Kings  iii,  1,)  in  order  to 
allow  the  S  years  of  Jehoram  II.  (of  Judah)  from  the  oth  year  of 
Jehoram  I.,  (2  Kings  viii,  U),  17,)  to  end  in  his  simultaneous  assas- 
sination by  Jehu  with  that  of  Ahaziah,  Avho  succeeded  .lehoram  II, 
for    1   year,   (2    Kings  viii,    20.)      But   in   the   above  passage, 


456  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  [July, 

(2  Kinfrg  viii,  16,)  -n-hcre  the  8  (current)  years  of  Jehoram 
11.  are  said  to  begin  in  the  5th  of  Jehoram  I.,  it  is  expressly 
stated  that  the  former's  father,  Jehoshaphat,  ayus  still  king  of  Judah  ; 
this  is  evidently,  therefore,  nothing  more  than  his  association  in 
the  government.  How  any  one  could  overlook  so  palpable  a  fact, 
is  surprising.  This  is  corroborated  by  the  notice  (2  Kings  i,  17)  of 
aformer  association  of  Jehoram  II.  with  Jehoshaphat,  one  year  prior 
to  the  accession  of  Jehoram  1.  This  also  is  the  only  supposition 
that  coiTCsponds  with  the  ages  of  his  father  and  son  at  their  re- 
spective accessions.  (See  our  Table.)  The  occasion  of  this  earlier 
association  in  the  home  government,  appears  to  have  been  Jehosha- 
phat's  absence  in  the  joint  campaign  with  Ahab  against  Ramoth- 
gilead,  (2  Chron.  xviii,)  in  which  the  latter  was  slain;  and  the 
time  agrees  with  the  date  assigned  in  the  passage  under  consider- 
ation. Thus  arranged,  the  whole  narrative  is  consistent.  (See 
our  Table.) 

Dr.  Akers  supposes  (p.  241)  that  Jeroboam  II.  was  associated 
with  his  father  Jehoash  II.  one  year  before  the  latter  died;  because 
the  former  began  to  reign  in  the  15th  year  of  Amaziah,  (2  Kinga 
xiv,  23,)  who  outlived  the  latter  15  years,  (ver.  17;)  but  this  is 
unnecessary;  for  15  full  years  added  to  15  current  (i.  e.,  14  full) 
years,  make  just  the  29  full  years  required  for  Amaziah's  reign, 
(ver.  2.) 

This  last  erroneous  calculation  of  Dr.  Akers  also  causes  him 
(p.  244)  to  insert  arbitrarily  11  years  for  a  supposed  minority  of 
Uzsiah,  between  the  end  of  his  father  xVmaziah's  29  years  and  his 
own  accession  in  the  27th  year  of  Jeroboam  II.,  (2  Kings  xv,  1,) 
evidently  meaning  the  associate  reign  of  the  last  mentioned.  These 
27  associate  years  of  Jeroboam  II.,  on  the  contrary,  would  begin 
much  earlier,  namely,  on  occasion  of  the  absence  of  his  father 
Jehoash  II.,  at  the  Syrian  Avars  in  the  early  part  of  his  reign, 
(2  Kings  xiii,  25.)  Josephus  places  Uzziah's  accession  in  the  14th 
year  of  Jeroboam  II.,  {Antiq.  ix,  x,  3;)  an  error,  however,  of  one 
year,  but  in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  of  Dr.  Akers. 

Again,  as  a  consequence  of  bringing  do\Yn  Uzziah's  reign  so  late 
in  that  of  Jeroboam  II.,  Dr.  Akers  is  compelled  (p.  245)  to  insert 
22  years  of  anarchy  between  the  death  of  the  latter  (after  a  reign 
of  41  years,  2  Kings  xiv,  23)  and  the  accession  of  his  son  Zacha- 
riah,  in  Uzziah's  3bth  year,  (2  Kings  xv,  S;)  instead  of  the  11  years 
usually  allowed  this  intorregnuDi.  IIeal.^o  erroneously  adds  (ibid.) 
another  year  to  this  anarchy,  in  order  to  bring  tlic  commencement 
of  JMenahem's  10  years  to  the  beginning  of  Uzziah's  40th  year,  as 
required    by   Pekahiah's  accession  in   Uzziah's  50th  year,   (ver. 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  457 

16,  23,)  and  yet  allows  the  short  intervening!;  reign  of  Shallam 
to  stand  in  Uzziah's  39tb-  year,  (vcr.  13.)  But  as  Menahem's 
reign  is  expressly  stated,  in  ver.  IG,  to  have  begun  likewise 
in  Uzziah's  o9th  year,  the  only  just  conclusion  is,  that  Zacha- 
riah's  reign  is  assigned  to  Uzziah's  oSth  year,  Shallunrs  to 
his  39th,  and  Menahem's  to  his  40tli.  in  the  nominal  computation 
of  the  era,  although  their  actual  position  was  more  closely  in  con- 
tact. (See  our  Table.)  A  like  depanuve  from  the  usual  rule  of 
prolcjjtic  reckoning,  to  this  instance  of  Mcuahem,  occurs  also  in  the 
similarly  peculiar  case  of  Omri. 

Dr.  Akers  (p.  246)  assigns  a  length  of  10  years  to  the  interreg- 
num between  Pekah  and  Hoshca,  in  order  to  conform  to  his  date  of 
the  reign  of  Ahaz,  which  involves  several  subordinate  errors.  He 
counts  Hoshea's  9  years,  not  from  the  12th  of  Ahaz,  (as  in  2  Kings 
xvii,  1,)  but  from  his  14th,  as  required  in  order  to  make  Hoshea's 
7th  and  0th  correspond  to  Hezekiah's  4th  and  6th,  (2  Kings  xxvA. 
9,10.)  (See  our  Table.)'''  ]Vow,  in  reality  both  these  statements  are 
true,  the  former  having  reference  to  the  solo  and  the  latter  to  the 
associate  reign  of  Ahaz,  who  therefore  appears  to  have  become  (def- 
initely) partner  with  his  father,  not  in  the  last  year  of  the  latter's 
reign,  as  supposed  by  Dr.  Akers,  but  2  years  earlier,  namely,  on 
occasion  of  his  wars  with  the  Ammonites,  ('2  Chron.  \x\vi,  5.  v.hcre 
the  tribute,  which  was  rendered  for  2  years  after  their  subjugation, 
seems  to  have  ceased  at  his  death.)!     Such  a  prior  date  of  the  reign 

'^  It  will  also  te  seen  from  our  table,  that  if  we  beiia  the  rcif:,n  of  Ilczekiah 
later  than  the  3J  of  Iloshea,  (as  we  must  do  if  wo  make  Ahaz  to  have  reiened 
raoro  than  14  years,)  we  shall  find  it  impossible  to  obtain  .3  years  (oven  current) 
between  the  siege  of  Samaria  by  Shalir.aneser,  in  Hezekiah's  4th  and  Hoshea's 
7th  year,  and  its  capture  in  Hezekiah's  Cth  and  Hoshca'd  Dth,  as  required  by 
2  Kings  xviii,  9,  10. 

This  instance  may  serve  as  an  illustration  of  the  impossibiiitv  of  tracing-  ac- 
curately two  scries  of  years  so  intricately  woven  together  as  thc.^c  in  question, 
withv.ut  actually  plottinir  them  down  in  the  manner  adopted  in  the  table  at  the 
close  of  this  article.  Even  so  acute  and  exact  a  calculator  as  Mr.  Browne  (Ordo 
Sceclonnn,  p.  22S  comp.  with  p.  242)  liuctuat:.-;  in  Lis  method  tf  di^^po-^in"^  of 
the  last  year  of  the  rei?;a  of  Ahaz,  althoujrli  he  arbitrarily  pronounce?  the  syn- 
chronism in  2  Kings  xviii,  1,  "  corrupt,"  in  onlcr  to  accommodate  2  Kings  xvi,  2. 
Dr.  Akers  (table,  p.  3G0)  places  the  name  of  Hezckiah  opposite  the  3d  year  of 
Hoshca,  (and  the  ICth  of  Ahaz,)  but  his  Istt/rar  (aj  parcntly  nicaninp;  its  end) 
opposite  the  4th  of  Iloshea.     Similar  ambiguity  runs  tiirou'^'u  his  entire  table. 

t  That  there  is  something  unusual  in  the  method  of  rcckopin'^  t!ie  rci.'n  of 
of  Ahaz  in  2  Kings  xvi,  2,  is  further  evident  from  his  total  age  at  his  death  as 
there' made  out,  (if  we  compute  the  IG  years  as  beginning  at  his  2Ist  year,) 
namely,  30  ;  for  his  sou  Ilczekiah  was  2o  years  old  when  Lo  succeeded  him, 
(2  Kings  xviii,  2  ;  2  Chron.  x.xi.T,  1,)  which  leaves  but  11   years  for  tho  age  oj 

J^'ouRTU  Seriks,  Vol.  VUL— 29 


458  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  [July, 

of  Ahaz  is  also  intimated  in  2  Chron.  xxviii,  1.  The  interregnum 
in  question  was  therefore  of  but  S  years'-  continuance. 

l3r.  Akers  reckons  the  70  years'  captivity  as  beginning  "in  the 
latter  part  of  the  3d  of  Jehoiakira,"  (p.  247,)  and  refers  to  Dan. 
i,  1,  2,  especially,  as  establishing  this  coincidence,  (p.  250.)  But 
from  this  passage  it  only  appears  that  Is'ebuchadnezzar  set  out  for 
Jerusalem  at  that  time,  the  city  being  taken  the  next  year,  as  Dr. 
Akers  hiaiself  allows,  (p.  247.)  jNebuchadnczzar  being  still  but 
viceroy.  Hence  the  true  Scriptural  date  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  reign 
is  coincident  with  the  4th  of  Jehoiukim,  (as  in  Jer.  xxv,  1,  3,)  and 
this  is  the  exact  era  of  the  70  years'  captivity,  (see  Jer.  xxv,  3, 11 ;) 
whereas  the  true  reign  of  Nebuchadnezzar  began  at  the  very  close 
of  the  ensuing  calendar  year,  (as  in  Ptolemy's  Canon,  and  other  pas- 
sages of  Jeremiah.)  In  consequence  of  this  inaccuracy,  Dr.  Akers 
actually  makes  the  captivity  to  last  but  C9  years,  beginning  in  Jan. 
B.  C.  605,  and  ending  at  the  first  of  Cyrus  which  began  in  Jan. 
B.  C.  536.  There  is  no  way,  according  to  his  dates,  to  make  out 
'70  full  years,  but  to  throw  the  decree  for  the  Jews'  return  into 
Cyrus's  2d  year. 

This  error  of  one  year  in  the  chronology  of  this  period,  appears 
again  in  Dr.  Akers's  date  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  the 
Bab3'lonians,  which  he  locates  in  JJ.  C.  5S7.  But  its  occurrence  in 
the  11th  of  Zedekiah,  and  the  10th  of  (the  associate  reign  of)  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, (Jer.  liii,  12, 13.)  fixes  it  in  B.  C.  588.  (See  our  Table.) 
"We  regard  this  position  as  demonstrated  by  the  tests  applied  by 
'Rrow-wQ,  [0 r do  S a cJurum,  pp.  167-109.) 

The  same  error  is  still  more  evident  in  the  date  assigned  by  Dr. 
Akers  to  Jehoiachin's  captivity,  namel}',  from  June,  B.  C.  597,  (p. 
249.)  Now  we  learn  from  2  Kings  xxv,  27,  that  the  close  of  the 
37th  year  of  this  captivity  fell  in  the  first  year  of  Evil-Merodach, 
whose  reign,  as  we  know  from  Ptolemy's  Canon,  bears  date  from 
January.  B.  C.  501.  But  the  12th  month  of  the  37th  year  from 
B.  C.  597,  would  fall  in  B.  C.  560,  (whether  we  take  that  month  of 
the  Jewish  year,  or  of  a  year  beginning  and  ending  with  the  epoch 
of  the  era,)  and  therefore  in  Evil-Merodach's  2d  year.  After  this 
examination,  what  are  we  to  think  of  Dr.  Akers's  confident  declaration, 

Ahaz  at  Ilezekiah's  birth.  The  end  of  the  20  years  there  spoken  of  probably  re- 
fers to  some  association  with  his  father  still  earlier  than  the  date  of  the  IG 
years;  perhaps  at  Jotham's  true  accession  upon  Uzziah's  death,  whose  leprosy 
(2  Chron.  xsvi,  21)  devolved  the  government  upon  .lothara  for  many  years  (Jo- 
aephus,  Antiq.  IX,  x,  4)  following  the  earthquake,  (Amos  i.  1 ;  Zech.  xiv,  5.) 
Thus  is  cleared  up  another  important  difficulty  connected  with  this  last  event. 
(See  our  Table.) 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  459 

(p.  251— the  italics  are  his  own,)  "Thus  do  we  unmistakably  unite 
the  Canon  of  FtoIem^Mvith  the  chronoloiry  of  the  Bible?" 

We  have  pursued  the  above  method  of  testing  the  chronology  of 
the  book  before  us,  both  as  being  the  most  direct  and  natural,  and 
because  it  is  that  by  uhich  the  author  professes  (p.  70)  to  have  ar- 
rived at  the  length  assigned  by  him  to  the  interval  between  the  exode 
and  the  decree  of  Cyrus,  llere  we  might  properly  drop  the  sub- 
ject, as  the  Bible  itself  furnishes  a  full  and  accurate  chronology  for 
this  period,  with  the  few  brief  intervals  supplied  by  Josephus.  But 
as  Dr.  Akers  has  chosen  to  compare  it  with  profane  chronology,  by 
way  of  corroboration,  we  will  follow  him  in  this  test  also. 

He  "  discovers"  (i.  e.,  assumes)  the  identity  or  immediate  continu- 
ousness  of"  the  old  Egyptain  chronicle,  as  transmitted  by  Syncellus," 
(p.  57,)  with  the  era  of  iS'abonassar,  or  that  employed  in  Ptolemy's 
Canon;  that  is  to  say,  that  the  former,  diverging  from  the  general 
chronology  of  other  nations  (supposcil  to  bear  date,  each  year,  from 
the  1st  of  Tisri)  at  a  given  point,  say  the  founding  of  the  Egyptian 
empire,  (placed  by  our  author  at  the  dispersion  of  Babel !  p.  8G,) 
and  running  in  an  uninterrupted  series  of  Egyptian  years,  (of  pre- 
cisely 365  days  each,)  finally  joins  on  (after  one  or  two  complete 
cycles)  exactly  to  the  beginning  of  ihc  latter,  (fixed  by  astronomical 
calculation  at  February  'JO,  B.  C.  7-17.)  This  theory  the  author  for- 
tifies and  applies  in  the  following  manner.  It  is  necessary  to  find 
two  prominent  points  of  contact,  as  widely  distant  as  possible,  be- 
tween the  era  of  iSIabonassar,  thus  produced  backward  into  the  pre- 
ceding Egj-ptian  cycle,  and  the  Biblical  history,  so  as  to  test  the 
interval  in  the  chronology  of  each,  by  their  mutual  correspondence 
in  length.  These  two  points  of  coincidence  between  these  parallel 
lines  of  history,  the  author  finds  in  the  cxodc  of  the  Hebrews  from 
Egypt,  and  the  decree  of  Cyrus  for  the  return  of  the  Jews  from 
Babylon.  The  former  of  these  events  ho  identifies  with  the  expul- 
sion of  the  Ilyksos,  or  shcphcrd-kinu's  of  Egypt,  as  related  by  .Alan- 
etho  in  the  fragment  preserved  by  Josephus.  The  remarks  of  Dr. 
Akers  on  this  point  are  ingenious,  and  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
Biblical  scholars :  we  are  inclined  io  think  he  has  in  a  good  measure 
cleared  up  thedifiiculties  that  beset  this  subject;  and  we  should  have 
no  hesitation  in  fully  embracing  his  solution  of  this  disputed  ques- 
tion, were  it  not  for  the  conviction  that  Manetho's  records  can  never 
be  fully  explained  till  the  Egyptian  archives  are  more  completely  re- 
stored from  the  monuments  than  has  yet  been  done.  The  other 
point  of  coincidence  is  well  determined,  and  generally  conceded  as 
belonging  to  the  first  year  of  Cyrus,  or  B.  C.  530 :  it  is,  in  fact,  the 
grand  fixed  point  where  Biblical  chronology  downward,  and  profane 


460  Akrrs's  Biblical  Chronology.  [July, 

chronology  upward,  meet  in  a  definite  date  from  the  Christian  era. 
The  interval  between  these  two  events  in  the  cycle  assumed  above 
would  be  1112  Egyptian  years,  or  1111  true  years,  Avhich  corresponds 
with  the  same  interval  as  made  out  by  Dr.  Akers  from  the  Bible. 
But,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  great  uncertainty  in  many  of  the  reigns 
a.nd  dynasties  of  which  those  Egyptian  years  are  made  up ;  in  the  next 
place,  the  identification  itself  between  the  Egyptian  cycles  and  the 
era  of  iSabonassar,  is  a  mere  hypothesis,  there  being  absolutely  no 
evidence  to  show  the  least  connexion  between  them,  other  than  the 
bare  presumption  that  the  same  kind  of  year  was  employed  in  both: 
and,  finally,  we  have  seen  that  the  length  of  the  interval  thus  found 
does  not  tally  with  that  given  by  the  Bible.  As  to  the  whole  "  series 
of  Egyptian  years,  22G1,  (preceding  the  era  of  Nabonassar,)  thus 
minutely  established  at  both  ends,  by  the  irrefutable  testimony  of 
ancient  liistory,"  (p.  5i\)  and  relied  upon  with  so  much  assurance 
by  Dr.  Akers,  to  prove  the  accuracy  of  his  Biblical  chronology,  it  is 
therefore  shown  to  bo  altogether  imaginary;  for  he  himself  allows 
{ibid.)  that  ■'  a  variation  from  the  true  number,  of  only  one  solar  year 
of  the  world,  within  that  interval,  would  have  disconnected  the 
Egyptian  year  from  its  appropriate  juncture,  at  one  or  the  other  end 
of  the  series,"  and  thus  bavo  destroyed  the  confirmation  desired ;  and 
(to  say  nothing  of  the  preposterously  early  date  of  the  epoch  of  the 
whole  scries)  wo  have  pointed  out  numerous  errors  of  much  greater 
magnitude,  in  the  series  of  paralk-l  Biblical  yeai's,  any  one  of  which 
is  sufficient  to  overtiirow  this  whole  theory. 

Just  at  this  point,  wo  discover  the  predisposing  cause  of  the  above 
otherwise  unaccountable  inaccuracies  and  assumption  into  which  Dr. 
Akers  has  fallen,  ^fhcy  seem  to  have  arisen  from  a  desire  to  con- 
form his  chronology  to  this  fanciful  standard  of  his  own  creation. 
The  influence  of  some  such  foregone  conclusion  has  been  the  bane 
of  nearly  every  chronological  system  we  have  seen,  and  this  method 
of  constnicting  them,  in  order  to  bring  out  a  preconceived  result,  has 
vitiated  chronology,  until  plain,  unprepossessed  readers  of  the  Bible 
have  come  to  distrust  the  whole  subject  as  essentially  vague  and  un- 
certain. Like  the  Millerites.  who,  figure  as  they  w"Ould,  still  always 
made  the  column  foot  up  1S43,  so'Ussher  was  bound  to  make  out 
480  years  between  Joshua  and  Solomon,  and  similar  arbitrary 
periods  elsewhere;  JIalesandhis  school  to  conform  to  the  prolonged 
dynasties  of  profane  chronology;  Browne  to  evolve  certain  "mysti- 
cal proportions;"  and  Akers  to  bring  about  his  Egyptian  cycles. 
When  Biblical  students  will  consent  to  construct  their  chronology 
from  the  Bible  itself,  without  any  bias  from  "endless  genealogies" 
and  mythological  fables,  as  found  in  uninspired  authors,  they  will 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  461 

come  to  a  harmonious  and  satisfactory  conclusion,  and  not  be- 
fore. 

We  have  but  a  brief  space  left,  in  the  limits  of  this  paper,  to  no- 
tice two  other  novel  positions  taken  in  the  book  before  us,  vrhich, 
but  for  the  prominent  and  confident  manner  in  v,hich  they  are  pro- 
pounded by  Dr.  Akers,  we  might  pass  by,  as  having  no  necessary 
connexion  "with  his  chronoloizj'.  so  far  as  year  dates  are  concerned. 
They  relate  to  the  Jewish  calendar. 

Dr.  Akers  contends  that  the  early  Hebrew  year  was  exactly  a 
solar  revolution,  and  consisted  of  twelve  months,  of  thirty  days  each, 
■with  five  days  added  at  the  end  of  the  year,  and  every  fourth  year 
six  days.  This  is  opposed  to  the  usual  view  of  chronologers,  who 
regard  it  as  having  consisted  of  twelve  lunar  months,  alternately  29 
and  30  days,  and  occasionally  a  thirteenth  lunar  month  intercalated 
at  the  end  of  the  year.  Dr.  Akers  incorrectly  states,  (p.  21,)  that 
substantially  his  has  been  the  current  opinion  of  the  most  able  chro- 
nologers.  The  only  authorities  v.hom  he  refers  to  as  holding  this 
view  are,  (p.  20,)  "  Richard  Watson,  evidently  following  Calmet, 
Michaelis,  and  other  distinguished  chronologers ;"  Dr.  Prideaux,  as 
referring  to  Kepler,  Archbishop  I'siher,  and  Mr.  Lydiat;  Dr,  Shuck- 
ford,  as  adducing  Joseph  Scaliger;  and  iinally  Mr.  Jackson.  Some 
of  these  writers  we  do  not  consi'lcr  us  having  any  great  weight  in  a 
question  of  this  kind;  some  arc  committed  to  peculiar  theories  of 
their  own  on  kindred  points,  and  some,  in  point  of  fact,  hold  pre- 
cisely the  contrary  view.  It  is  a  marked  fault  of  Dr.  xVkers  that 
he  does  not  often  cite  his  authors  with  sufficient  dcfinitenesa^to  en- 
able us  to  verity  his  references ;  indeed,  he  could  scarcely  have  been 
more  vague  in  his  alhisions  to  the  ap})ropriate  authorities  on  chron- 
ological subjects,  if  he  had  not  himself  consulted  them  at  all.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  first  named  above  wiio  is  at  all  entitled  to  be  ranked 
among  "distinguished  chronologers,"  namely,  Michaelis.  We  are 
not  told  which  Micliaelis  is  meant,  nor  what  work  of  his  contains  the 
statement.  AVe  are  left  to  conjecture,  or  to  our  own  research,  as  to 
the  real  authority  thus  alluiled  to  in  general  terms.  J.  D.  Michaelis, 
in  his  tract  "DeMensibus  Ilcbncorum  commentatio  recitata,  21  Jul., 
1764,"  published  in  the  Coininculutioncs  Sac.  Rc^.  Scientiarum  Get- 
ting., (1TC9,)  argues  that  the  later  Jews  changed  the  beginning  of  their 
months  to  a  later  date  than  oi'iginally,  in  consequence  of  beginning 
Nisan  with  the  first  half  of  March,  whereas  it  corresponds  in  gen- 
eral with  our  April ;  but  he  allov.s  that  such  a  correspondence  in  the 
months  cannot  be  exact,  because  the  Jewish  months  were  lunar. 
"For  since  the  year  of  the  ilfbrews  was  lunar,  and  the  months  lunar, 
beginning  with  the  new  moon,  the  Jews  (now)  reckon  their  Nisan 


462  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  [Joly, 

from  that  new  moon  which  falls  in  March,"  (p.  16 ;)  whereas  he 
concludes,  (p.  40,)  that  "the  first  month,  called  by  Moses  (Abib, 
i.  e.)  of  green  cars,  by  others,  Nisan,  takes  its  beginning  from  the 
first  new  moon  of  April,  being  parallel  to  our  own  April,  as  far  as 
may  be  in  a  lunar  month,  so  that  a  part  of  it  sometimes  falls  in  the 
following  May."  And  he  expressly  says,  (p.  40,)  "It  is  of  these 
months  (thus  amended,  but  originally  beginning  with  the  7th  of  the 
series)  that  we  are  to  understand  Moses  as  speaking,  when,  in  the 
history  of  the  flood,  (Gen.  vii,  11 ;  viii,4,  5, 13, 14,)  he  mentions  the  Isi 
2d,  3d  months,  etc."  lie  then  subjoins  a  "  Corollary,"  or  list  of  the 
months,  thus  explained,  under  their  Hebrew,  Chaldean,  Arabic,  Syrian, 
-^thiopic,  and  Coptic  names,  as  drawn  up  by  his  father,  C.  B. 
Michaelis.  So  much  for  this  authority.  In  a  similar  manner  it 
might  be  shown  that  few,  if  any,  of  the  others  referred  to,  really  ad- 
vocate the  view  entertained  by  Dr.  Akers  in  this  matter.*     Indeed, 

*  The  statements  on  this  subject  in  Watson's  Diet.  (art.  "Year")  are  taken 
from  Calmet's.  >;eithcr  refer  to  Dr.  Akers's  authorities.  They  both  hoU  that 
the  early  Hebrew  j-car,  like  the  Egyptian,  had  3Gu  days,  (alleging  that  this  is 
proved  by  the  year  of  the  Deluge,  although  they  afterward  admit  a  different 
computation,)  supposing  an  intercalary  month  at  the  end  of  V20  years. — Prideaux 
docs  indeed  allude  (Preface  to  Connexion,  p.  53,  Harper's  ed.)  to  Kepler,  Ussher, 
and  Lydiat,  as  holding  to  the  early  Jewish  year  of  365  days,  and  admits  that  this 
obtained  prior  to  the  Exode ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  insists,  (ibid.,  p.  51,  oS,)  that 
the  Jewij^h  months  were  lunar  in  all  ages  sub.«equent.  Kepler  (in  his  Eclogcf 
Chronica:,  Frankfort,  IGloj  argues  against  Epiphanius  respecting  the  date  of 
Christ's  passion,  wholly  on  the  supposition  of  the  Jewish  lunar  mouths;  (see 
especially  his  table,  p.  1S7.) — Usshcr  alone  distinctly  holds  (Preface  to  Annals, 
in  his  VV'orLt,  vol.  viii,  p.  G)  that  the  Jewish  year,  prior  to  the  Babylonian 
captivity,  was  equal  in  length  to  the  Julian,  consisting  of  12  months  of  30  days 
each,  with  5  days  intercalated  at  the  end  of  the  year,  and  every  fourth  year 
6  days ;  but  he  adduces  no  evidence  nor  authority  beyond  his  bare  assertion.  It 
is  worthy  of  note,  that  it  is  respecting  precisely  this,  the  only  one  of  Dr.  Akers's 
authorities  that  really  supports  his  position,  that  he  is  himself  "  constrained  to 
pronounce  the  whule  contradictory  to  itself,  and  misleading  in  its  statements," 
(p.  197,)  although,  unfortunately,  he  never  saw  the  work  himself  "except  for 
a  few  minutes  in  a  Boston  library,  in  1S52,"  (ibid.) — Lydiat's  work  we  have  not 
been  able  to  find.— Scaligor  holds  (Da  Emend.  Temp.,  Colon.  Allob.,  IC'JO,  p.  221) 
that  the  early  Hebrew  (or  Abrahamic)  year  was  the  same  as  the  Egyptian,  i.  e.,  of 
365  days,  with  an  intercalary  month  at  the  end  of  120  years,  (p.  222.)  After 
the  Exode,  however,  he  admits  that  the  Jews  had  lunar  months,  (p.  273.)  His 
Julian  Period,  borrowed  from  a  suggestion  of  Victorians,  was  a  mere  imaginary 
cycle,  invented  for  the  sake  of  convenience,  (p.  350.) — Shuckford  admits  (Preface 
to  his  Conmclion  of  Sacred  a)ul  Profane  Ilistori/,  London,  IbOS,  vol.  i,  p.  iii)  that  ihe 
primitive  year  is  of  uncertain  length,  but  probably  consisted  of  SCO  days;  and  this, 
after  an  extended  examination,  he  concludes  (p.  xiii)  was  the  Jewish  computation 
down  to  the  Babylonian  captivity.  In  the  Preface  to  vol.  ii,  (p.  xi-xxv,)  he  fur- 
ther shows  that  the  dift'erence  between  a  true  year  and  3G5  days  was  unknown 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  463 

the  idea  of  a  proper  hap-ijcar  docs  not  occur  in  the  history  of  such 
early  times.  « 

If  this  were  a  matter  to  be  settled  by  learned  authorities,  it  vrould 
be  easy  to  produce  an  overwhelming  mass  of  testimony  of  this  kind 
in  favor  of  lunar  months  among  the  Jews,  at  least  after  the  Exode. 
We  have  space  here  only  to  introduce  a  quotntion  from  one  of  the 
early  -writers  on  this  subject,  no  mean  authority  himself;  later  authors 
are  too  generally  accessible  to  render  their  sentiments  a  raaticr  of 
doubt.  We  refer  to  Christ.  Langhauscn,  in  his  treatise  De  Mense 
Vetennn  HfbrcBorum  Liinari,  (in  I'goUni  Thcsaur.,  xvii,  p.  374,) 
■who  thus  sums  up  the  evidence :  "  We'shall  not  dispute  Avith  those 
who  ascribe  to  the  Jews,  in  later  times  also,  months  of  30  days,  in 
contracts,  agreements,  marriages,  childbirth,  lactation,  weaning,  etc. 
This  opinion  is  embraced  by  John  Selden,  {De  anno  civilivet.  Jud., 
chap,  i ;)  John  Marsham,  {in  Canone  chron.,  p.  m.  190;)  Fred. 
Spanheim,  {in  Chronnl.  sacra,  part  1,  chap,  x,)  and  others.  Butxce 
consider  it  certain,  that,  after  the  giving  of  the  law  by  Moses,  if 
not  in  other  matters,  at  least  in  determining  ecclesiastical  affairs 
and  festivals,  lunar  months  prevailed.  From  this,  even  these  au- 
thors do  not  dissent^  He  then  quotes  Sirach  xliii,  G;  Josephus, 
Antiq.  Ill  x;  and  Philo,  Be  vit.  Mosis,  iii,  GSG ;  as  substantiating 

to  the  ancients,  i.  e.,  prior  to  the  rrfonnition  of  the  calemJar  by  Julius  Cxsar. — 
Dr.  Akcrs's  remaining  authority,  .Mr.  JjK-kson,  adduces  (in  his  Chronological  An- 
tiquities, Loudon,  17o.',  Toh  i,  p.  410,1  the  ancient  testimony  as  to  the  precise 
length  of  the  year.  He  thinks  that  the  .5  additional  days  vrere  not  intercalated 
even  in  the  Egyptian  year  (of  30O  days  previously)  till  about  B.  C.  1704,  {ibid., 
vol.  ii,  p.  7.)  "  This  improved  Egyptian  year  (of  OGo  days  uniformly)  the  Israelites 
brought  with  theni'out  of  Egypt,''  {ibid.,  p.  17.)  "This  year  is  undoubtedly  [!"! 
used  by  JMoses  in  hi.3  history  of  tlie  Creation,  and  of  the  genealogies  of  the 
patriarchs,  botli  before  and  after  the  flood,"  (ibid.,  p.  IS.)  Hence,  when  he  says, 
(ibid.,)  "The  14th  day  of  the  1st  mouth  (among  the  Jews)  would  be  a  fixed  point 
of  the  year,  and  kept  immovable  by  the  intercalation  of  a  day  in  about  4  years, 
added  to  th,-^  other  o  intoivalary  diy.-;;  whi.h  v.-as  the  most  ancient  method  of 
intercalating  the  solar  year,"  he  refiTS  in  this  last  clause  (quoted  by  Dr.  Akers, 
p.  21)  to  the  r>  intercalary  days  just  mentioned.  He  shows  by  extended  quota- 
tions (ibid.,  p.  23.  ct  scq.)  that  the  original  year  of  mankind,  used  by  all  ancient 
nations,  consisted  exactly  of  .'iCO  days. 

Among, "other  distinguished  chronologers,"  we  take  the  liberty  to  name  Dr. 
Hales,  who  states,  (Jnuli/sis  of  Chrottoln^ij,  London,  ISoO,  vol.  1,  p.  31,)  that  the 
primitive  year  of  the  Jews,  like  that  of  the  Egyptians,  fee,  consisted  exactly  of 
■  360  days :  and  he  quotes  numcrou-!  ancient  authors  to  that  effect,  (see  also  ibid., 
p.  23.)  Finally,  we  rcf>  r  the  reader  to  the  autliorilios  cited  by  Winer,  (RralwOrtcr- 
buch,  art.  "Jahr,")  as  showing  that  the  Hebrew  year  before  the  exile  wa.<  lunar, 
although  originally  consisting  of  oOO  days,  t^eo  also  hhs  citations  to  the  same 
effect,  ibid.,  art.  "  Jlonate,"  where  he  styles  ("rcdncr's  position  (that  the  Jews 
reckoned  by  solar  years  till  the  Sth  century  before  Christ)  a  novel  hypothesis. 


404  Akers's  Biblical  Chronologij.  [July, 

his  position;  and  concludes  his  whole  examination  thus:  '-IS'othing 
whatever,  therefore,  stands  in  the  way  of  our  assenting  to  the 
received  opinion  of  the  Hebrews,  that  the  ancient  method  of  reckon- 
ing the  months  according  to  the  first  appearance  of  the  moon,  con- 
tinued down  to  the  fourth  century,"  (jbiil.,-p.  40S.  )'-^- 

In  truth,  there  is  no  positive  information  how  the  Hebrews 
reckoned  their  months  prior  to  the  law,  and  we  are,  therefore,  left  to 
the  presumption,  in  the  absence  of  any  information  to  the  contrary, 
that  the  same  method  prevailed  from  the  earliest  times,  which  we 
know  obtained  in  later  ages.f  llow  they  came  to  have  so  precise  a 
system  as  Dr.  Akers  supposes  them  to  have  started  with,  is  cer- 
tainly a  mystery,  and  that  they  should  ever  have  lost  or  exchanged 
it  for  one  less  accurate,  is  a  still  greater  mystery.  It  would  be  more 
natural  to  suppose  that  theirs  was  the  same  with  the  Egyptian  year 
of  365  days  uniformly :  the  puzzle  is,  how  to  introduce  the  leap 
year,  which  cannot  be  slurred  over  with  a  "  doubtless,"  as  by  Dr. 
Akers,  (p.  21.)  As  a  matter  of  evidence,  we  may  refer  to  that 
early  Hebrew  treatise  on  astronomy  and  topics  pertaining  precisely 
to  this  question,  found  in  the  "  Book  of  Enoch,"  (Lawrence's  ed., 
Oxford,  1S3S,)  the  authoi'of  which  evidently  knew  nothing  of  such 
an  exact  determination  of  the  length  of  a  solar  revolution,  which  he 
supposes  to  consist  of  precisely  364  days,  (pp.  104,  S9,  and  else- 
where,) measured  by  the  twelve  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  of  30  days 
each,  with  an  intercalary  day  at  each  of  the  four  seasons,  (pp.  105. 
106,)  or  by  months  of  alternately  29  and  30  days,  (p.  100.) 

^  See  also  Potavius,  who  lioMs  (De  Doctrina  Temporum,  Antwerp,  1703,  vol.  i, 
p.  153,  col.  b)  that  the  Hebrew  year  befoi-e  the  Erode  was  similar  to  that  of  the 
Chaldeans  and  Persians,  namely,  consisting  of  30-day  months,  with  5  days  inter- 
calated at  the  end  of  the  year,  and  an  intercalary  month  every  120  years;  but 
that  after  the  Exode,  the  Jewish  months  were  lunar,  (ibid.,  p.  l.jl,  col.  b.) 

t  See  especially  Des  Vignoles,  {Chronologic  de  I'Histoirc  Sai7ite,  Berlin,  173S,) 
who  reduces  (vol.  ii,  p.  GIG,  ct  scq.)  all  the  theories  for  adjusting  the  primitive 
Hebrew  year  with  the  solar,  to  the  fuU.iv/iiie;  three:  {]st,)  The  intorcahiti-jn  cf 
a  month  after  1-0  years.  This  he  pronounces  "a  mere  chimera,  forged  by 
Scaliger,"  and  based  only  on  an  incorrect  interpj-etation  of  Geu.  vi,  3.  {2d,)  By 
adding  5  days  at  the  end  of  the  year.  This  he  thinks  has  a  colour  of  probability 
from  the  Egyptian  method  of  intercalation  ;  but  that  there  is  a  total  absence  of 
proof  as  to  its  adoption  by  the  Hebrews :  {2d,)  The  supposition  of  years  of 
365.}  days,  equal  to  ours.  This  theory  he  aicribos  to  P.  Conjour,  as  cited  by 
Le  Clerc;  but  he  finds  this  "  pretoudod  system  full  cf  paralogisms  o.ud  false  cal- 
culations." He  accordingly  concludes  that  the  Ikbrew  year  before  the  Exode 
was  invariably  3(;0  days  long,  (basing  this  pv  si;iL.n  on  the  I'O  days  of  the  Flocd,) 
without  any  intercalation;  and  fortifies  this  view  by  a  careful  analysis  of  texts 
and  authorities.  After  the  Exode,  however,  he  thinks  that  the  settled  Jewish 
tradition  of  lunar  months  cannot  be  overthrown,  and  he  cites  and  examines 
very  many  authorities  to  that  effect,  (vol.  i,  p.  5.36,  et  seq.) 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  465 

Our  limits  forbid  our  entering  further  into  the  argument;  -\ve 
must  content  ourselves  ^vith  remarking  that  the  only  passages  quo- 
ted by  Dr.  Akcrs,  as  "establishing,"  or  '"abundantly  proving"'  his 
theory  of  the  Jewish  months  and  days,  (pp.  2*2,  23.)  arc  the  round 
numbers  assigned  these  divisions  of  time  in  1  Kings,  iv,  7  :  1  Chron. 
xxvii,  1-15;  Kev.  x.xii,  2;  and  the  150  days  of  Gen.  vii,  with  the 
periods  of  Dan.  vii,  25 ;  Rev.  xi,  2 ;  all  of  Avhich  are  as  applica- 
ble, in  a  popular  form  of  speech,  to  one  method  of  computation 
as  to  the  other.*  And  after  all,  on  Dr.  Akers's  own  plan,  one 
of  the  months  has  35  days,  or  else  we  have  an  intercalary  month 
of  five  days  at  the  end  of  the  year;  and  in  later  times,  as  we 
shall  see  presently,  even  a  greater  variation  from  the  assumed 
standard.  "^ 

But,  finally,  actual  notes  of  time  in  the  Bible  refute  this  theory 
of  the  Jewish  calendar.  We  will  instance  but  one  case.  The 
Prophet  Ezekicl,  on  one  occasion,  was  directed  to  lie  on  his  left  side 
390  days,  as  a  type  of  the  sin  of  Israel,  and  40  days  more  on  his 
right  side,  for  the  sin  of  Judah,  (iv.  5,  6.)  Now,  although  it  may 
be  uncertain  to  what,  if  to  any.  definite  period  of  years,  these  days 
may  respectively  correspond,  there  can  bo  no  reasonable  doubt  that 
the  prophet  literally  complied  v,-ith  the  command  so  explicitly  laid 
upon  him.  Of  course,  he  must  have  remained  within  doors  and 
quiet  during  that  interval ;  and  .such,  v.'c  fmd  from  the  history,  was 
actuall}^  the  case.  The  date  of  the  injunction  was  not  less  than 
seven  days  (iii,  IG)  after  the  fifth  day  of  the  fourth  month  of  the 
fifth  year  of  Jehoiachin's  captivity,  (i,  1,  2.)  and  we  find  him  sitting 
as  a  public  teacher  again,  evidently  having  fulfilled  the  prescribed 
period,  on  the  fifth  day  of  the  sixth  mouth  of  the  ensuing  3-ear, 
(viii,  1.)  The  interval  is,  in  any  case,  not  more  than  1  year  1  month 
less  7  days,  which,  on  Dr.  Akers's  scheme,  would  be  only  388 
days,  whereas  the  terms  of  the  command  require  at  least  -130 
days.T  llcckoning  in  luiuir  inonihs.  however,  and  supposing  the 
year  an  intercalary  one,  we  have  for  the  entire  interval  a  space 
of  436  days,  which  allows  a  natural  surplus  of  6  days  for  the 
prophet  to  prepare  for  the  task,  and  refresh  himself  after  it.    A  more 

''The  months  of  tlic  delucio  are  really  the  only  Scriptural  cvlJence  f^r  solar 
years;  the  reader  may  sec  in  Prown'.>,  (Onlo  Saclorum,  p.  .'jPil;  wlicre  all  dis- 
crepancy may  be  obviated  by  including  both  extremes  of  the  loO  days,  after  the 
Jewish  custom.)  how  readily  these  ronforia  to  the  lunar  year.  The  other  p.is- 
sages,  if  they  pi-ov.-,l  anyihins,  ■\suulJ  ^>rovc  too  much,  for  they  indicate  a  Hebrew 
year  in  all  azcs  of  .''CO  days,  and  no  more. 

fThc  peculiar  adjustment  of  the  year  with  regard  to  the  Sabbath,  supposed  by 
Dr.  Akers  below,  couM  not  in  any  case  extend  the  year  more  than  6  days,  and 
might  make  it  so  much  less. 


4GG  Akers^s  Biblical  Chronology.  [July, 

decisive  test  of  the  proposed  Jewish  calendar  could  not  ■well  be  de- 
vised. 

The  other  position  taken  by  Dr.  Akers  with  respect  to  the  Jew- 
ish calendar  to  which  we  refer,  is  a  still  more  extraordinary  one; 
he  asserts  that  each  year  v,-as  so  arranged  as  to  bei^in  with  a  Sab- 
bath, inasmuch  as  the  {iftccnth  day  of  the  first  sacred  month  was 
always  to  fiill  on  that  day  of  the  week,  (p.  99.)  Of  course,  in  order 
to  allow  tliis,  the  year  must  be  ]eii:.;thcned  or  shortened  a  few  days, 
so  as  to  make  it  end  with  the  Gth  day  of  the  week,  (p.  109.)  The 
only  evidence  of  this  arrangement  that  Dr.  4-kers  has  to  adduce, 
consists  of  a  comparison  of  the  passages  in  Leviticus  (x.xiii,  10,  11, 
15,  IG,)  requiring  the  day  of  Pentecost  to  be  reckoned  from  the 
morrow  after  the  Paschal  Sabbath,  which  morrow.  Dr.  Akers  attempts 
to  show  from  a  passage  in  Josephus,  ( Antiq.  Ill,  x,  15,)  always  fell 
on  the  IGth  day  of  Is'isan,  consequently  making  the  15th  a  Sabbath, 
(p.  101.)  But  Josephus  does  not  in  that  passage  state  such  a  co- 
incidence :  he  merel}'  says  that  the  people  were  not  allowed  to  par- 
take of  the  harvest,  in  any  case,  before  the  IGth  day.  since  the  offer- 
ing of  the  first-fruits  was  fixed  to  take  place  (on  or  after;  that  day; 
and  in  the  beginning  of  this  very  section,  he  declares  point  blank 
that  the  month  itself  was  lunar,  thus  necessarily  excluding  such  a 
uniform  correspondence  of  a  given  day  with  a  certain  week-day.  If 
such  a  notable  rule  of  ordering  the  Jewish  calendar  and  week,  as 
Dr.  Akers  conceives,  actually  existed,  it  is  very  strange  that  it  should 
be  so  obscurely  set  forth  in  the  sacred  code,  that  no  reader  has  ever 
been  able  to  discover  it  till  this  late  day :  and  even  now  we  could 
not  have  divined  it  without  the  aid  of  Josephus,  who,  after  all,  says 
not  one  word  about  the  Sabbath  in  the  whole  connection. 

Dr.  Akers  seeks  to  fortify  this  hypothesis  by  a  number  of  dates 
in  Biblical  history,  in  which  he  alleges  a  coincidence  of  the  month- 
day  v,-ith  the  week-day,  called  for  by  his  arrangement  of  the  calen- 
dar. Most  of  these  are  mere  inferences  of  his  own,  drawn  from  verv 
slight  intimations  as  to  the  precise  day  of  the  week ;  but  if  they 
were  all  correct,  they  might  be  accidental  coincidences  that  would 
not  prove  the  theory.  One  of  them,  however,  (which  we  select  as 
being  the  most  familiar  instance,)  instead  of  corroborating  his  posi- 
tion, peremptorily  and  palpably  refutes  it.  This  is  the  dav  of  the 
crucifixion  of  Christ,  which,  as  all  know,  was  Friday.  Admitting  this, 
Dr.  Akers  argues,  (p.  103,)  or  rather  claims,  (for  his  logic  on  this 
point  is  merely  reasoning  in  a  circle,)='=  according  to  the  long-since 

**  The  only  shadow  of  evidence  referred  to  by  Dr.  Akers  on  this  point,  is  the 
doubtful  date,  "  tlic  sixth  hour"  of  "the  preparation  of  the  Passover,"   (John 


1856.]  Akers's  Biblical  Chronology.  46Y 

exploded  interpretation,  (see  Dr.  Robinson,  in  the  Bihliotheca  Sacra, 
August,  IS 45,)  that  this  event  occurred  on  the  14th  day  of  the 
JeAvish  month  Nisan  in  question  ;  in  the  very  face  of  the  fact  that 
Christ  liad  partaken,  the  night  before,  -vN-ith  his  disciples,  of  the  Pass- 
over meal,  \Nhich,  as  Dr.  Akers  himself  allows,  (p.  100,j  Avas  al- 
ways eaten  during  the  evening  introducing  the  l.jth  day  of  that 
month.  In  this  instance,  therefore,  beyond  all  dispute,  the  Jewi.sh 
year  began  on  Friday,  and  not  on  the  Sabbath  or  ISaturday.  NN'ith 
this  anachronism.  Dr.  Akers's  Avhole  calendar  falls  to  the  ground  as 
imaginary. 

We  have  thus  rapidly  revieAved  the  main  results  and  positions  of 
Dr.  Akers  in  the  work  before  us,  as  candidly  and  carefully  as  atc 
have  been  able.  In  conclusion,  it  is  due  to  the  author  to  say,  that 
although  Ave  differ  almost  Avholly  from  him  as  to  his  conclusions,  Ave 
nevertheless  appreciate  the  labour  and  tact  displayed  in  bringing 
them  out,  and  disposing  them  to  the  best  advantage.  Fcav  have  the 
patience  to  go  through  the  intricate  calculations  necessary  to  such 
a  Avork,  and  still  feAver  Avriters  have  succeeded  in  stating  the  Avhole 
subject  in  so  brief  and  lucid  a  manner.  Had  the  author  possessed 
the  advantage  of  access  to  the  requisite  authorities  in  compiling  and 
perfecting  his  treatise,  Ave  doubt  not  he  Avould  have  avoided  many 
of  the  errors  Avhich  Ave  have  pointed  out,  especially  in  the  construc- 
tion of  his  Jewish  calendar.  As  it  is,  the  book  may  stimulate,  and 
to  some  degree  assist,  its  readers  to  make  researches  for  themselves 
in  the  important  department  of  Biblical  science  of  Avhich  it  treats. 

Had  our  limits  alloAved,  it  would  have  afforded  us  pleasure  to 
compare,  more  at  length,  Avith  the  Biblical  dates  and  history,  the 
collateral  eras  and  profane  dynasties,  upon  which  Dr.  Akers  appears 
to  have  bestowed  great  attention,  particularly  in  his  copious  Table; 
but  we  must  leave  these,  for  the  present  at  least,  for  the  reader 
to  examine  for  himself 

It  remains  for  lis  to  submit  our  own  table  of  Biblical  chronology, 
which  Ave  have  promised  the  reader.  It  is  the  result  of  much  care- 
ful labour,  and  somcAvhat  extensive  research,  and  may  prove  useful  in 
comparing  and  adjusting  the  various  chronological  data  found  in  the 
Scriptures. 

xix,  1-1 ;)  -which  the  best  critics  agree,  must  be  interpreted  according  to  ^fark 
XV,  2.J,  42.     (.See  KuinOl,  LQcke,  Tischendorf,  in  loc.  Joh.) 

The  careful  reader  will  observe  that  Dr.  Akers  silenthj  adopts  the  roTiiarkable 
position  of  Dr.  Jarvis,  [Introduction  to  the  Ilistor;/  of  the  Church,  N.  Y.,  1S45, 
part  i,  chap,  ri-xii,)  of  an  errorof  one  year  in  the  entire  Koman  annals,  by  means 
of  which  correction  our  Saviour's  crucifixion  is  placed  in  A.  D.  2S  in^tcad  of  29. 
This  is  not  the  only  instance  in  which  ho  has  adopted  the  conclusions  of  others, 
without  giving  either  arguments  or  credit  for  tbcm. 


468  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [Julj, 


Art.  Vll— alchemy  AND  THE  ALCHEMISTS. 

L'Mchiniie  et  les  Alchimistcs ;  ou  Essai  Historique  et  Critique  sur  la  Philosuphie 
HcrmHique.  Par  Louis  Figuteh,  Docteur  Os  Sciences  iledicales,  Docteur  en 
Medicine,  agzvgo  de  Chimie  a  I'Ecolc  de  Pharmacie  de  Paris.  Paris :  Victor 
Lccoii,  EJiteur,  Libraire  de  la  Societc  des  Gens  do  Lettres.  Pi-ue  du  Bouloi,  10. 
MDCCCLIY.     1  vol.  12D10. 

A3I0NG  all  the  forgotten  or  repudiated  branches  of  occult  lore, 
there  is  none  \Yhich  is  more  attractive  in  its  strange  legends 
and  dreamy  reminiscences,  or  -which  has  been  more  efficacious 
in  achieving  our  present  attainments,  than  Alchemy.  It  has,  lat- 
terly, been  the  most  contemned,  and  yet  it  has  been  the  principal 
instrument  in  introducing,  guiding,  and  preparing  the  greatest  and 
most  practical  discoveries  of  our  times. 

The  links  ^Yhich  unite  Chemistry  to  Alchemy  are  so  numerous  and 
closely  reticulated,  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  -where  extravagance 
ceases  and  sobriety  begins.  Shall  -we  acknovi'ledge  that  the  charac- 
teristic difierence  consists  in  the  fact  that,  while  Alchemy  had  a  de- 
terminate though  unachieved  airn,  Chemistry  pursues  its  researches 
■without  any  distinct  purpose,  accepting  and  employing  the  discov- 
eries which  accidentally  present  themselves,  in  the  co-arse  of  a  perse- 
vering but  unregulated  investigation  into  all  the  casual  and  possible 
combinations  of  dissimilar  substances?  Such  an  admission  might 
save  the  credit  of  modern  Chemistry,  so  far  as  its  discoveries  have 
been  rendered  available,  but  it  would  scarcely  enhance  its  scientific 
character,  and  would  only  give  it  the  prestige  over  Alchemy,  which 
might  appertain  to  a  richer  collection  of  special  processes.  For  Al- 
chemy can  boast  of  many  discoveries  which  are  still  assiduously 
employed  by  medicine,  the  useful  arts,  and  the  physical  sciences; 
and  if  the  age  in  Avhich  they  -u-ere  made  be  compared  with  the  pre- 
tended illumination  of  the  present  generation,  the  alchemists  might, 
perhaps,  rightfully  claim  higher  admiration  than  even  the  Lavoisiers, 
Blacks,  Davys,  Faradays,  Liebigs,  and  Graho.ms. 
.  "We  shall  not  attempt  to  draw  the  line  of  demarcation  between  Al- 
chemy and  Chemistry,  but  leave  it  to  be  traced  by  those  who  have  a 
more  unsuspecting  reverence  for  the  transcendent  merits  of  recent 
science  than  we  profess.  We  doubt  the  possibility  of  discovering 
any  tenable  principle  of  separation.*  It  can  scarcely  be  conjectured 
to  reside  in  the  dilferent  objects  of  the  two  respectively;  for,  if  Al- 

°  Proudhon,  who,  unlike  most  modern  philosophers,  is  a  logician,  despite  of 
his  political  heresies,  illustrates  these  points  with  groat  acutcncss,  in  his  Crea- 
tion do  rOrdre  dans  I'llumanito,  ch.  ii,  pp.  43,  o7. 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  469 

chemy  p?rsevcringly  soup;ht  the  transmutation  of  metals,  does  not 
Chemistry  confidently  undertake  tlie  production  of  forms  unknown 
to  nature  by  the  resolution  and  recomposition  of  compound  bodies? 
Is  the  fruitless  effort  to  generate  gold  out  of  natural  substances  by 
the  appliance  of  the  powers  of  nature,  at  variance,  in  any  respect, 
with  the  Novum  Organou?  or.  is  it  more  unreasonable,  or  even 
bolder,  than  the  ascription  of  an  elementary  metallic  character 
to  the  base?  of  the  earths  and  alkalies,  ahtminum,  potassium. 
•calcium,  ttc.  ?  If  carbonic  acid  gas  can  be  solidified  by  the  art  of 
modern  Chemistry,  is  there  any  impossibility  involved  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  extrication  of  the  oxygen  and  the  crystallization  of 
the  carbon?  liealize  the  conception,  and  wo  at  once  have  the 
diamond,  which  is,  indeed,  said  to  have  been  produced  artificially  by 
a  Parisian  chemist,  as  the  lapis  lazuli  had  been  previously  com- 
pounded by  art.  If  it  is  within  the  prospective  capabilities  of  Chem- 
istry to  manufacture  the  diamond  and  other  precious  stones,  is 
there  any  inherent  absurdity  in  either  the  hope  or  the  attempt  so 
long  entertained  by  the  Alchemists,  to  convert  the  baser  metals 
into  gold,  or  to  discover  the  conditions  under  which  gold  may  be 
produced?  It  may  be  answered  that  gold  is  an  element,  though 
this  is  a  recent  assumption ;  but  the  diamond,  so  far  as  wc  are  yet 
aware,  is  an  element  also,  modified  in  a  peculiar  manner  by  the 
undiscovered  laws  of  crystallization. 
■  It  is  in  perfect  consonance  with  the  characteristics  of  the  two 
types  of  the  same  branch  of  physical  inquiry,  that  modern  Chemistry 
should  be  unable  to  disprove  the  feasibility  of  the  main  project  of 
the  Alchemists,  the  transmutation  of  metals.  This  is  admitted  by  M. 
Figuier,*  and  a  similar  acknowledgment  is  made  by  the  distinguish- 
ed mineralogist.  Professor  Kobel,  though  a  direct  answer  to  the 
question  is  dexterously  evaded  by  him.t 

It  is  altogether  natural,  moreover,  that  although  the  repute  of 
Alchemy  ha?  steadily  waned  daring  the  increasing  cultivation  and 
popularity  of  Chemistry,  the  IJcrmctic  art  has  never  been  entirely 
renounced,  but  has  retained  its  circle  of  believers  and  professed  dis- 
ciples ;  for,  whatever  imperfections  may  belong  to  it,  there  is  no 
argument  yet  alleged  against  it,  which  is  not  equally  fatal  to  the 
pretensions  of  its  rival,  as  wc  may  have  occasion  to  show  more  fully. 
Facts  may  be  considered  adverse  to  Alchemy,  and  favourable  to 
Chemistry ;  but  this  is  a  wider  assertion  than  the  evidence  will  justify. 
It  is  not  so  much  the  facts  tliat  arc  cither  adverse  or  favourable  as 
the  popular  reception  and   interpretation  of  the  facts.     Alchemy 

"  Fi^uicr,  L'AlcLimic  ct  lea  Alcliinistcs,  Part  iii,  p.  1G7. 

t  Popular  Sketches  of  the  Mineral  Kingdom,  Part  iii,  p.  333.     Ed.  Bohn. 


470  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

failed  to  realize  pretensions  prematurely  hazarded  and  extravagant- 
ly announced ;  it  was  misled  frequently  by  natural  misconceptions,  it 
vras  more  frequently  discredited  by  the  impostures  of  charlatans : 
but  its  failures  are  not  conclusive  against  the  possibility  of  realizing 
its  aims,  when  those  arc  expressed  in  a  guarded  form.  Chemistry 
has  achieved  brilliant  results;  but  hot  more  brilliant  than  those 
previously  due  to  the  Alchemists.  It  has  made,  however,  no  distinct 
profession  of  its  purposes,  and  it  has  reaped  a  decided  cdvantagc 
from  this  caution.  Chemistry  possesses,  moreover,  the  ear,  the 
heart,  the  belief  of  the  contemporary  generation;  its  leading  dog- 
mas are  accepted  by  its  doctors  with  unhesitating  acquiescence,  and 
by  the  multitude  with  eager  applause.  \Vhile  this  temper  endures,  it 
can  experience  no  difliculty  in  securing  faitli  in  its  positions,  and  in 
deepening  the  disgrace  which  unrealized  expectations  have  heaped 
upon  its  parent.  I^evcrtheless,  hi  what  has  been  ostentatiously  hawk- 
ed about  as  Organic  Chemistry,  there  appears  to  be  as  much  fallacy, 
rigmarole,  unsubstantial  mysticism,  sophistry,  and  niaiscrie  as  in 
many  of  the  books  of  the  Alchemists. 

We  are  not  disposed  to  enroll  ourselves  among  the  modern  vota- 
ries of  Alchemy,  although  they  claim  some  very  respectable  names. 
We  only  desire  to  show  that  there  is  not  such  inherent  absurdity 
in  the  pretensions  of  the  Alchemists  as  is  habitually  supposed. 

It  was  necessary  to  rehabilitate,  in  some  measure,  the  character  of 
this  remarkable  succession  of  men.  in  order  to  secure  such  a  sympa- 
thizing interest  in  their  history  as  v^-ould  render  it  no  tedious  task 
to  retrace  the  outlines  of  their  doctrines  and  career.  For  the  oppor- 
tunity of  so  doing,  as  well  as  for  the  materials  to  be  employed,  we 
are  almost  exclusively  indebted  to  the  attractive  volumes  of  M. 
Louis  Figuier.  The  essay  of  Dumas  on  the  history  of  Alchemy  is 
known  to  us  only  by  name.  Singularly  enough,  no  use  seems  to 
have  been  made  of  it  in  the  composition  of  the  present  treatise,  from 
which  we  also  derive  our  acquaintance  with  a  work  that  must  be 
still  more  curious  and  instructive,  as  being  the  production  of  a 
modern  believer  in  Alchemy.  Wc  refer  to  Schmieder's  Geschichte 
dcr  AJchemie,  published  at  Halle,  as  late  as  18.32. 

The  agreeable  volume  of  M.  Figuier  will  gi-atify,  but  not  satisfy, 
a  liberal  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  Alchemists.  Dividing  his  essay 
into  four  parts,  he  fii'st  describes  the  theories,  the  labours,  and  the 
processes  of  the  Alchemists.  He  then  recounts  the  fortunes  of 
Hlchcniy  and  the  Alchemists  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  succeedinf 
centuries.  The  third  section  of  the  work  is  occupied  with  an  interest- 
ing notice  of  the  principal  Alchemists,  and  of  the  more  important 
instances  of  the  alleged  transmutation  of  the  baser  metals  into  gold. 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  471 

The  concluding  number  of  the  treatise  is  devoted  to  an  indecisive 
consideration  of  the  remains  or  resuscitation  of  Alchemy  in  the 
nineteenth  century.  An  appendix  contains  some  instructive  docu- 
ments, among  ■which  the  report  of  the  elder  Geoffrey  to  the  French 
Academy  merits  notice,  as  it  is  deemed  one  of  the  chief  agencies  in 
undermining  the  credit  of  Alchemy. 

The  report  of  Geoffroy  on  the  tricks  of  pretended  Alchemists, 
the  exposure  of  Dr.  James  Price  by  the  Royal  Society  in  IT^^o,  and 
the  suicide  of  the  ^Yretched  experimentalist  in  the  presence  of  his 
judges,  -with  Klaproth's  confutation  of  Semler  about  the  same  period, 
•were  more  effective  in  eradicating  the  belief  in  Alchemy  than  the 
chemical  discoveries  of  Lavoisier.  Its  credit  was  overthrown,  not 
because  it  was  demonstrated  to  be  fallacious,  but  because  it  merited 
in  the  hands  of  its  professed  disciples  the  censure  fulminated  against 
it  in  the  sixteenth  century  by  John  Clyteraius,  Abbot  of  Wiezen- 
berg  :  "  Vanitas,  fraus,  dolus,  sophisticutio,  cupiditas,  falsitas,  r/icn- 
dacium,  stultitia,  paupcrtas,  fuga,  proscriptio,  et  mcndicitas,pedis- 
sequa  sunt  che?nia.''=^ 

The  interests  of  science  and  industry  have  been  advanced  by  declining 
the  seductions  of  a  pursuit  whose  golden  visions  ended  in  continual 
disappointment,  but  neither  science  nor  reason  can  rest  satisfied  v.ith 
a  refutation  which  proceeds  no  further  than  the  exhibition  of  previous 
failure  and  deception.  It  is,  consequently,  not  surprising  that  Al- 
chemy should  still  possess  its  cohort  of  believers,  and  that  ^1.  Fi- 
guier  should  be  able  to  trace  the  succession  of  its  disciples  to  the 
years  now  passing  over  us.  To  bring  down  the  evidence  to  the  latest 
date,  M.  Figuier  inserts  in  his  Appendix  a  declaration,  published  in 
1853,  by  M.  C.  Theodore  Tiffcreau.  Professor  of  Chemistry,  affirming 
the  transmutability  of  metals,  and  his  own  success  in  making  gold. 

These  are  not  all  the  modern  instances  recorded  in  this  volume 
in  proof  of  the  persistent  belief  in  Alchemy;  and  the  number  might; 
be  considerably  increased,  for  jNI.  Figuier  has  not  performed  his 
task  thoroughly,  but  has  been  more  solicitous  to  compound  an  en- 
tertaining book  than  a  complete  history  of  his  subject. 

]M.  Tiffcreau  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  adept  in  the  Hermetic  art. 
M.  Figuier  ascribes  the  final  overthrow  of  his  study  to  the  chemical 
discoveries  of  Lavoisier,  and  his  demonstration  of  the  elementary 
character  of  metals. "  This  character  M.  Tiffcreau,  following  the. 
teachings  of  the  earlier  Alchemists,  denies  to  them,r  and  does  any 
really  scientific  chemist  maintain  the  absolute  simplicity  of  the  re- 
cognised elements?  Is  their  elementary  constitution  conceived  to 
be  anything  more  than  a  provisional  dogma,  or  convenient  hypoth- 

"  Quoted  hy  Figuier,  p.  162.  t  Figuier.     Appendix,  Note  iv,  pp.  380-3. 


472  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemisfa.  [July, 

esis?  If  it  were,  the  discovery  of  the  metallic  bases  of  the  earths 
■would  invalidate  the  argument  from  Lavoisier's  discoveries;  and  the 
expanding  doctrine  of  isomorphism,  with  the  singular  phenomena 
■which  it  tries  to  interpret,  would  restore  plausibility  to  the  theories 
of  the  Alchemists.  If  the  list  of  metals  may  be  extended  by  the 
progress  of  science,  they  may  possibly  be  diminished  by  its  further 
advancement.  If  different  metals  produce,  in  composition,  analogous 
conipounds,  tho  analogy  may  suggest  some  latent  identity  in  their 
atomic  nature.  If  non-metallic  substances  may  assume  metallic 
characteristics,  and  metallic  bodies  lose  them,  we  cannot  regard  the 
prevalent  doctrine  of  metals  as  fixed  or  satisfactory. 

The  philosophy  of  Alchemy  must  not  be  permitted  to  withdraw 
our  attention  too  far  from  its  histor}',  its  doctrines,  its  wild  legends, 
and  the  troubled  lives  of  its  professors.  The  discovery  of  the  phi- 
losopher's stone  and  the  transmutation  of  metals,  constituted  only 
one  of  the  aspirations  of  the  Alchemists,  though  it  v/as  their  prin- 
cipal and  most  absorbing  object.*  The  elixir  of  life;  the  grand 
panacea,  or  universal  medicament;  the  Alcahest,  or  universal  solv- 
ent ;  and  the  secret  of  Palingenesy,  or  the  artificial  reproduction  of 
life  from  the  ashes  of  decayed  organisms,  were  all  contemplated  in 
their  aims :  they  were  all  at  different  times  regarded  as  properties 
of  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  were  revived  and  incorporated  in  the 
pretensions  of  the  Rosicrucians.  The  germs  of  these  budding  rev- 
eries may  be  detected  even  in  the  physical  treatises  of  Aristotle; 
they  assumed  more  definite  shape  in  the  literature  of  the  Saracens 
and  of  the  Cabala  ;  they  are  clearly  indicated  in  the  Opus  Majus  of 
Roger  Bacon;  the3-  reappear  in  the  writings  of  Lord  Bacon,  and 
still  reveal  the  enduring  influence  of  old  delusions  in  the  advertise- 
ments of  quack  medicines,  and  in  many  much  more  respectable 
manifestations  of  modern  science  and  philosophy. 

We  will  briefly  trace  the  development  of  these  opinions,  follow 
their  cliangcs,  and  watch  the  anxious  play  of  hope  and  despondence 
in  the  bosoms  of  the  enthusiasts  by  whom  the}'  were  entertained. 

The  theory  of  the  transmutation  of  metals  reposed  on  two  funda- 
mental postulates,  the  belief  in  their  composition,  and  in  their  gen- 
eration in  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  The  Alchemists  maintained  that 
the  metals  were  compound  bodies ;  that  the  composition  of  all  metals 
was  nearly  uniform ;  and  that  their  differences  arose  from  the  differ- 
ent proportions  and  variable  forms  in  vdiich  their  elements,  sulphur 
and  mercury,  were  combined  with  each  other.  But  the  r.:icrcuryiind 
sulphur,  which  generated  the  metals  by  their  union,  were  not  the 

*  Vide  Toprer  Bacon.  Opus  Mnjiis,  Ps.  vi,  cap.  xii,  p.  337.  II.  Corn.  Agrippa, 
De  Incert.  and  Varr.  Soicnt.  c.  xc. 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  478 

minerals  ordinarily  so  called,  but  were  of  a  purer  and  peculiar  char- 
acter. The  mercury  was  the  essential  element,  the  base  of  the 
metals,  the  cause  of  their  lustre,  ductility,  and  metallic  nature;  the 
sulphur  v.-as  the  source  of  their  combustibility. 

According  to  the  Hermetic  doctrine,  ail  inorganic  matter  was  en- 
dowed with  life.  This  vras  a  rude  method  of  explaining  those  mys- 
terious phenomena,  which  Leibnitz  interpreted  by  means  of  hi? 
monads,  his  tis  viva,  and  his  prccstaoiishcd  harmony,  and  which 
modern  science  ascribes  to  the  equally  unintelligible  operation  of 
chemical  attraction,  electric  affinity,  molecular  polarity,  magnetic 
forces,  and  the  laws  of  crystallization.  From  this  tenet  was  deduced 
the  conclusion  that  the  metals  grew  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
Hence,  too,  it  was  supposed  that  the  hidden  agency  of  nature  united 
the  requisite  elements  under  the  proper  conditions,  and  multiplied 
the  metaUic  product  by  its  latent  action.  It  was  thought  that  the 
generation  of  metals  proceeded  in  a  similar  fashion  to  t'ic  generation 
of  animals,  that  like  propagated  like,  and  that  the  new-born  form 
waxed  great  by  self-evolution.  The  grand  arcanum  to  bo  sought  and 
won  by  the  spagyric  art  was,  accordingly,  the  detection  of  the  seed 
of  the  metals,  a  seed  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  such  miraculous 
virtues  that  they  could  not  be  destroyed  by  fire,  but  would  act  in 
the  midst  of  flame.?,  and  convert  an}-  mercurial  matter  into  the  ap- 
propriate metal.  Is  this  nonsense  ?  Yet  the  nonsense  acquires  some 
justification  from  the  now  accepted  doctrine  that  gold  and  phuinuni 
ajre  much  later  productions  of  nature  than  the  other  metals.'- 

In  consonance  with  the  fantastic  and  metaphorical  language  of  the 
Alchemists,  the  vessel  in  which  the  elaboration  of  the  great  work — 
opns  vuig?iu!n — w'as  attempted,  Avas  called  the  philosopher's  egg — 
ovum  phihsophicvm.  To  effect  the  transmutation  in  this  crucible, 
or  egg,  the  seed  of  the  metals  must  either  be  obtained  in  its  purity. 
or  made  to  germinate  by  a  proper  stimulant  in  the  impure  com- 
pounds in  which  ?t  was  imprisoned.  This  seed,  or  this  .'Stimulant. 
for  the  two  sometimes  appear  identical,  was  the  philosophers  stone. 
or  philosopher's  powder,  and  was  dignified  with  the  appellations  of 
the  Grand  Magisterium,  the  Great  Elixir,  the  Quuifesscvc",  and 
the  Tincture.  Two  of  these  names  still  retain  their  place  in  the 
Pharmacopoeia.  The  true  talisman,  when  obtained,  converted  ail 
metals  into  gold.  In  an  impure  form  it  could  only  achieve  their 
transmutation  into  silver,  and  was  then  known  as  the  little  phiioso- 
pher's  stone,  the  little  magisterium,  or  the  little  elixir. 

The  development  of  this  theory  is  conjectural,  but  it  appeared  to 

*  The  (Iccijinn  of  JIurchison,  Do  Vcrncitil.  and  Kejaerling.  LoncL  Qu.  Rct.. 
Oct.  18."<0,  p.  217. 

FouKTu  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 30 


474  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

preserve  such  an  analorry  ^vith  the  probable  procedure  of  nature  that 
it  won  the  credence  of  the  impassioned  minds  wiiich  -^vere  lured  on\yard 
in  their  wild  search  by  the  hope  of  discoverin;^  the  great  secret,  and 
of  seizing  nature  in  the  performance  of  her  hidden  operations. 

To  the  philosopher  s  stone  were  attributed  three  principal  virtues  : 
the  transmutation  of  metals,  the  cure  of  diseases,  and  the  prolonga- 
tion of  life.  The  two  latter  properties  were  only  attached  to  the 
other  attributes  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Thej'  have  been  largely 
realized  by  modem  therapeutics,  not  in  the  vague  latitude  of  their 
original  conception,  but  in  the  more  modest  triumphs  of  sober  science. 
The  medical  profession  cannot  boast  of  having  conferred  on  men  the 
thousand  years  of  Artephius,  although  Pair's  Life  Pills  are  still 
commended  by  the  longevity  of  Parr;  but  it  can  boast  that  the 
term  of  human  existence  has  been  extended  by  its  skill,  and  that  the 
earlier  aspirations  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  only  form  in  which  their 
accomplishment  could  be  reasunably  anticipated. 

Throughout  the  Middle  Ages  tlie  study  of  medicine  was  dili- 
gently cultivated  at  Constantinople,  and  in  some  of  the  Greek  cities 
of  Southern  Italy  ;*  from  them  it  was  borrowed  by  the  Saracens ; 
and  before  the  twelfth  century  the  disciples  of  the  healing  art  ac- 
quired their  professional  knowledge  chiefly  in  the  Greek  schools,  and 
in  the  Moslem  colleges  of  Sp:uii.  In  this  wa}-,  Alchemy  and  other 
sciences  were  imited  with  ihc.  prosecution  of  medicine,  and  an  im- 
petus given  to  the  investigation  of  the  processes  of  nature.  Science 
was  thus  inaugurated  in  ^\■t■^■ern  Europe.  In  the  succeedinir  cen- 
tury, Koger  Bacon,  sui-pas.-^ing  his  rival  and  contemporary,  Albertus 
Magnus,  extended  and  purifii.-d  tlie  observant  and  experimental  pro- 
cedure of  the  naturalists  and  Alchemists,  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  a  scientific  method,  whusc  conditions  were  firmly  established  by 
his  namesake  four  centuries  later.  At  this  time,  however,  the  fan- 
tastic speculations  uf  Alehomy  received  a  new  impulse,  were  pur- 
sued to  the  neglect  of  striei  (observation  and  experiment,  and  thus 
obscured  fur  many  goiiera:ion.s  the  scientific  tendencies  of  this  and 
other  pursuits.  M.  Siguier  divides  the  Hermetic  labours  into  two 
classes  :  those  whicli,  with  little  dependence  upon  speculation,  relied 
principally  on  olscn-uti..n  and  experiment;  and  those  which  were 
guided  by  thous.'phic  and  my.^tical  inspiration.!  Investigations  of 
the  former  type  wcru  the  precursors  and  commencement  of'inductivc 
science:  to  the  latter  bnineh  must  be  referred  the  extrava::ant  fan- 
cies \vhich  c.ot:i:;.;:!:it(d  iho  later  researches  of  Alchemy.^  It  was 
this  spirit  \s\mc\i  lutr.xlucovl  occult  influences,  accorded 'to  natural 
bodies,  and  t-i.-.-i.Vil^-  to  the  philosopher's  stone ;  which  assimilated 
o  Crauur,  K  iir-ci.  .M-.-IU  .\e,i  Studiis.  j  Figuier.  p.  19. 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  475 

the  transmutation  of  metals  to  the  relations  of  the  body  and  the  soul, 
and  the  resurrection  of  the  dead;  and  identified  the  processes  of  the 
art  with  the  mysteries  of  Christianity.  Such  chimerical  fancies  were 
engendered  by  the  habitual  interpenetration  of  all  the  -walks  of  life 
by  the  prevalent  scholastic  theology.  Their  indulgence  tempted 
certain  Alchemists  to  affirm  that  Adam  had  received  the  philoso- 
pher's stone  from  the  hand  of  God :  that  the  Hebrevr  patriarchs  and 
Solomon  were  adepts  in  the  Hermetic  art;  and  that  the  removal  of 
sins  and  the  resurrection  of  the  body  might  be  efi'ected  through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  grand  magisterinm. 

It  was  a  natural  corollary  from  these  views,  after  assiduous  eflPorts 
had  been  beguiled  of  their  hopes,  and  the  mysterious  powder  ap- 
peared unattainable  by  human  investigation,  to  regard  it  as  the 
special  gift  of  God,  reserved  for  the  elect.  Hence,  the  secret  de- 
nied to  human  e.xertion  was  sought  as  a  free  grace  from  the  Deity. 
Its  revelation  was  invoked  b}'  prayer  ;  and  purity  of  life  was  deemed 
more  efficacious  than  science  for  its  discovery. 

The  power  and  value  of  the  philosophers  stone  depended,  of  course, 
on  the  proportion  which  it  bore  to  the  mass  of  metal  obtainable  by  its 
means.  The  determination  of  this  point  is  specially  interesting,  as 
the  failures  and  disappointments  attending  the  closing  career  of  the 
most  successful  Alchemists  were  ascribed  by  them  to  the  exhaus- 
tion of  their  supply  of  the  indispensable  succedaneum,  and  to  the 
difficulty  or  impossibility  of  procuring  a  new  stock.  The  greatest 
diversity  of  opinion  prevailed  among  the  doctors  of  Alchemy,  in 
reg;trd  to  this  proportion.  The  estimated  rate  in  the  seventeenth 
century  was  very  moderate.  Kunckel  thought  the  grand  magisle- 
rium  could  transmute  only  twice  its  weight  of  a  foreign  metal. 
Germspreiser  asserted  that  it  could  convert  from  thirty  to  sixty 
times  its  own  mass.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  when  credulity  was  bolder, 
or  disappointment  was  less  protracted,  Arnold  of  Yillanova  had  rep- 
resented the  amount  as  a  hundredfold  of  the  impure  metal.  Roger 
l^acon  estimated  the  increase  at  one  hundred  thousand  parts ; 
Isaac  of  Holland  at  a  million.  Raymond  Lully  exclaimed,  "  More 
tingercin.  si  inercurius  esset,"  a  boast  faintly  sanctioned  by  the  dis- 
coveries and  anticipations  of  Dr.  Percy,  of  the  "  English  Museum  of 
Practical  Geology."*  If  the  ocean  were  mercury,  the  Majorcan 
sage,  doctor  illufniiiatus,  professed  his  ability  to  turn  it  all  into 
gold.  He  maintained  that  a  morsel  of  the  grand  magistery,  as 
large  as  a  kidney-bean,  would  change  one  thousand  ounces  of  mer- 
cury into  a  red  powder ;  that  an  ounce  of  this  powder  would  as- 

**  "Dr.  Percy  haz.irJs  the  speculation  that  hereafter  gold  may  possibly  be  dis- 
covered as  a  unirei-aal  constituent  of  sea-water."  English  paper,  -ith  March,  lSo4. 


476  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

similatc  to  itself  one  thousand  ounces  of  mercury ;  that  this  opera- 
tion mif^ht  be  twice  again  performed ;  and  that  an  ounce  'of  the 
fourth  product  would  transmute  a  thousand  ounces  of  mercury  into 
gold  purer  and  finer  than  the  best  extracted  from  the  earth.*  .This 
calculation  gives  nearly  twenty-eicrht  thousand  millions  of  tons  of 
gold  as  the  product  of  a  piece  of  the  philosopher's  stone  as  small  as 
a  bean,  or  seven  hundred  and  seventy-five  million  times  the  amount 
of  the  total  annual  production  of  gold  previous  to  the  opening  of  the 
mines  of  California  and  Australia.  The  later  Alchemists  spoke 
from  the  results  of  supposed  experiments ;  the  earlier  from  the 
boundless  conjectures  of  their  sanguine  anticipations. 

The  elaborate  obscurity  of  the  Alchemists  irritates  and  repels  the 
modern  student  of  their  remains,  but  it  tempted  the  earlier  disciples, 
and  shielded  them  from  the  persecutions  of  Church  and  state,  by 
both  of  which  their  pursuits  were  forbidden.  Moreover,  in  justice 
to  them  it  should  be  observed  that,  however  licentious  their  phrase- 
ology may  have  been,  the  example  vras  imitated  by  Lord  Bacon, 
whose  me^-aphors,  analogies,  and  poetical  terminology  have  met  with 
habitual  admiration,  though  they  arc  little  more  than  a  temperate 
imitation  of  the  familiar  expression  of  the  despised  teachers  of  Al- 
chemy. The  Greek  divinities  enveloped  themselves  in  clouds  when 
they  desired  to  withdraw  themselves  from  the  cognizance  of  men; 
and  it  would  have  been  a  hopeless  task  to  pursue  the  vanished  god- 
dess through  the  mi:Ms  spread  around  her.  It  is  equally  hopeless 
to  hunt  for  the  forgotten  meaning  of  the  Alchemists  in  the  haze  of 
their  premeditated  darkness.  jNl.  I'iguicr  abandons  in  despair  the 
enigmas,  allegories,  and  parables  of  the  earlier  periods,  and  de- 
scends to  the  writers  of  the  sixteenth  and  subsequent  centuries  for 
the  means  of  elucidating  the  procedure  of  the  Alchemists.  In  the 
lapse  of  generations,  however,  there  were  great  changes  of  opinion, 
and  alterations  of  theory  and  practice;  and  what  had  at  one  time 
be^n  the  earnest  prosecution  of  legiiira:ite  investigotions,  became  at 
another  the  futile  indulgence  of  extravagant  fancies. 

The  attaimuent  of  the  mercury  of  philosophers,  as  the  prime  agent 
in  the  preparation  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  was  the  immediate  ob- 
ject of  desire.  This  was  successively  sought  from  all  natural  bodies, 
but  the  different  metals  invited  most  attention  by  their  superior 
pi'omisc.  Arsenic  was  among  the  earliest  to  excite  and  disappoint 
expectation.  "  What  particularly  and  for  a  long  time  secured  the 
confidence  of  adepts  to  this  mineral,  v.as  the  preservation,  in  the 
ancient  treatises  of  the  art,  of  a  Greek  enigma,  transmitted  from  an 
unknown  origin,  and  thus  translated  :" 

*  Figuier,  p.  18. 


1856.J  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  477 

"  J'ai  ncuf  lettres,  je  suis  de  quatre  sjUabes,  connais  moi ; 
Chacune  dcs  trois  premieres  a  deux  lettres: 
Lcs  autres  ont  les  autres  lettres,  et  il  y  a  cinq  consonnes; 
Par  moi  tu  possederas  la  sagesse." 

We  quote  M.  Figuier's  o-\yn  words,  because  we  propose  to  com- 
ment upon  them,  and  to  give  the  unknown  origin  of  these  lines. 
They  are  extracted  from  the  Sibylline  Oracles,^^  and  were  only 
adapted  to  arsenic  as  a  means  of  mystery  and  concealment.  Their 
original  purport  was  very  different,  though  no  satisfactory  sugges- 
tion of  their  intended  meaning  has  yet  been  presented.  It  is  much 
more  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  early  preference  accorded  to 
arsenic  was  due  to  its  frequent  and  unsuspected  combinations  with 
gold  and  silver,  and  to  the  marked  resemblance  which  some  of  its 
compounds,  such  as  arseniosiderite  and  pillicite,  exhibit  to  the 
precious  ores.  As  the  Alchemists  admitted  gold  to  be  one  of  the 
constituents  essentially  required  in  the  production  of  gold ;  as, 
moreover,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  in  many  instances  tiiey 
did  extract  gold  by  their  operations,  it  was  natural  that  such  a 
mineral  as  arsenic  should  have  early  attracted  their  notice,  and 
rewarded  their  manipulations,  while  beguiling  their  observation  and 
reason.  The  art  of  assaying  grew  up  under  the  hands  and  by  tlie 
continued  experiments  of  the  Alchemists ;  metallurgy  was  very  rude 
and  imperfect  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  any  mineralogy  distinct 
from  the  actual  v>-orking  of  mines  was  almost  unknown,  and  there 
was  no  acquaintance  v.-ith  o.ny  metallic  compounds  but  the  most 
common.  These  considerations  explain  the  acceptance  of  arsenic 
and  other  minerals  as  the  base  of  the  philosoplier's  powder;  t'aey 
interpret  also  the  production  of  gold  and  silver  from  the  Alchemi- 
cal preparations  inlimited  quantities,  just  sufficient  to  tempt  further 
effort;  and  they  account  for  the  failure  to  detect  in  the  original 
ingi-edicnts  the  precious  metals  which  were  obtained  by  the  subli- 
mations, rectification?,  precipitations,  and  desiccations  of  the  Al- 
chemists. Moreover,  as  is  noted  by  M.  Figuier,  the  fumes  of  arse- 
nic fonn  a  coating  on  copper,  and  the  copper  whitened  in  this  man- 
ner vras  mistaken  for  a  real  or  incipient  transmutation. 

But  these  illusions  vrere  dispelled  in  process  of  time.  Arsenic 
was  rejected,  and  George  Wedel,  of  Jena,  blundering  over  the  orthog- 

®  'Y.i-via  ypduaar'  f  y""  reTpaav?.}.a,3oc  e'l^r  voei  fit. 
At  Tpti^  al  Tcp'IiTai  6vo  ypufiuar'  f;^;oL'ffa'  iKdarri, 
'II  /.oit:}/  6h  ru  /.ol~u,  Ka'i  tialv  aouiia  Ji;  ~ivr£' 
Toi'  TTavTug  6'  apiOjiov  tiiarovrd^e^  €tal  (Vir  outu', 
Kai  rptic  ~h>h  (^CKtl6fr,  cuv  y'  Inrd.     Fvoi'f  Si  T(f  tlfii, 
OvK  auvr}rog  Icjj  tFj^  ~ap'  iuoi  rroi^/V/r. 

Lib.  i,  VT.  U\-C.     Ed.  Friedlieb. 


478  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

raphy  of  the  Greek  name,  Cassiteros,  sno:gested  tin  in  its  place. 
Mercury — argentum  vivum — quicksilver,  long  enjoyed  the  supreme 
honours,  and.  is  still  employed  in  extracting  the  precious  metals 
from  their  ores.  But  mercur}-  refused  the  service  demanded  from 
it,  though  its  sufficiency  was  affirmed  by  an  adage  attributed  to  Her- 
mes :  "In  mercurio  est  quidquid  qiiizrvnt  sapientes."  Antimony 
was  tried,  but  tried  in  vain;  and  at  length  the  advice  of  lioger 
Bacon  -wa?  rcfpected.  "  Gold  and  silver  are  too  fixed  to  be  em- 
ployed ;  the  other  metals  are  too  poor ;  no  one  can  give  what  he 
has  not  gotten."  Recourse  was  had  to  the  salts.  In  the  Gospel 
of  St.  Luke  it  was  written :  "  Salt  is  good ;"  and  this  passage 
afforded  a  convenient  text.  In  1350,  Odomar,  the  monk,  announced 
sea- salt  to  be  the  prime  agent,  and  his  opinion  was  accepted  by 
numerous  followers.  Saltpetre  and  vitriol  were  also  employed. 
The  mineral  kingdom  having  generated  only  disappointment ;  the 
vegetable  world  was  examined,  and  examined  in  vain.  In  the 
eighteenth  century  animal  products  were  tested ;  and  the  great 
secret  was  sought  in  the  human  body,  as  the  noblest  work  of  nature. 
The  blood,  the  saliva,  the  hair,  and  all  the  secretions  and  excretions 
were  successively  used,  to  no  purpose.  Tradition  reported  the  dis- 
covery and  wealth  of  mines  in  ancient  times  during  the  infant  set- 
tlements of  men  in  new  lands.  The  precious  veins  had  been  ex- 
hausted, and  no  longer  yielded  their  treasures  to  the  contemporary 
races.  Hence  might  have  sprung  the  notion  once  prevalent  that  the 
fresh  earth  was  the  matrix  of  gold.  To  this  delusion  we  owe  the 
still  familiar  expression,  the  virgin  soil,  terra  virgo,  terra  virginea, 
a  phrase  frequent  in  early  works  on  Alchemy.  Endeavours  were 
made  to  dig  down  through  the  long-used  surface  to  the  rich  sub- 
stratum supposed  to  lie  below.  But,  as  M.  Figuier  observes, 
"jamais  la  terre  ne  se  trouva  siiffisa7nment  vierge,"  an  inference 
which  is  untranslatable. 

If  we  api)Iy  the  light  derived  from  modern  science  to  the  interpre- 
tation of  the  errors  and  fantasies  of  the  past,  nothing  will  appear 
more  natural,  and,  indeed,  inevitable  than  the  manifestation  and 
vitality  of  Alchemy.  It  was  suggested  and  sustained  by  illusions, 
which  forced  -themselves  upon  the  acceptance  of  the  first  sincere 
explorers  into  the  wonders  of  nature,  and  which  could  only  be  dis- 
pelled by  the  slow  and  tedious  advancement  of  accurate  observation. 
The  censures  Avhich  are  heaped  indiscriminately  upon  the  Alche- 
mists, rest  justly  on  the  heads  only  of  the  ignorant  pretenders  and 
impostors  who  disgraced  the  class  whose  name  they  assumed  by 
professing  to  perform  transmutations  in  which  they  did  not  them- 
selves believe,  but  which  they  operated  with  premeditated  fraud  for 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  479 

the  purpose  ofnotorictv  or  gain.  It  wa.s  a  painful  and  perilous  ex- 
istence to  ^vhich  the  genuine  enthusiasts  condemned  themselves; 
how  painful,  how  arduous,  how  perilous,  is  revealed  in  the  second 
and  third  sections  of  M.  Figuier's  work.  Lured  on  by  a  distant 
and  doubtful  hope,  whose  remoteness  and  uncertainty  he  recognised, 
the  Alchemist  voluntarily  undertook  and  patiently  bore  the  numer- 
ous pains  and  penalties  of  his  vocation.  Kejecfced  by  his  relatives, 
depised  by  his  friends,  hated  by  the  vulgar,  persecuted  by  the  state, 
and  e.Kcommunicated  by  the  Ciiurch,  he  continued  the  patient  inves- 
tigation of  the  mysterious  phenomena  of  nature,  spending;  his  means, 
his  time,  his  mind,  and  his  heart  in  the  pursuit,  watching  the  prog- 
ress of  his  operations  by  night  and  by  day,  patiently  continuing 
his  experiments  through  weeks,  and  months,  and  even  years,  tempted 
perhaps,  at  times,  by  visions  of  wealth  flitting  before  him,  to  sus- 
tain his  drooping  spirits,  but  more  steadily  urged  onward  by  a 
genuine  scientific  aspiration  after  the  truth.  What  was  the  reward 
of  all  these  labours,  and  watchings,  and  privations,  and  contumelies, 
and  afflictions  ?  Kot  the  attainment  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  not  the 
grand  arcanum  of  transmutation,  not  the  elixir  of  life  or  the  essence 
of  youth,  for  the  votaries  of  Alchemy  became  prematurely  old.  and 
■were  withered  up  by  the  fires,  and.  noxious  fumes,  and  anxieties 
■which  surrounded  their  daily  life,  or  fell  unnoticed  victims  to  the 
perils  which  they  silently  encountered ;  but,  if  their  more  ostensi- 
ble hopes  were  all  frustrated,  they  achieved  other  results  which 
entitle  them  to  the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  postei-ity,  and  for 
■which  the  nineteenth  century,  with  all  its  triumphs,  is  largely  their 
debtoi".  The  incidental  discoveries  of  the  Alchemists  have  been  of 
infinitely  more  value  to  the  world  than  the  realization  of  their  most 
sanguine  hopes  could  have  been.  On  the  foundations  laid  by  their 
careful  and  multiplied  experiments,  and  on  the  truths  detected  by 
their  persevering  observations,  the  modern  sciences  of  chemistry, 
medicine,  metalkirgy,  mineralogy,  and  a  large  portion  of  our  useful 
arts  have  been  erected.  Without  their  reveries,  their  extravagances, 
their  diligence,  and  their  failure,  the  material  advancement  of  the 
present  times  would  have  been  impossible.  It  would  be  an  arduous 
undertaking  to  determine  the  vai^iety  of  the  modes  and  the  several 
degrees  in  which  our  existing  arts  and  sciences  have  been  indebted 
to  their  painstaking  researches;  but  the  list  of  their  principal  .lis- 
coveries  furnishes  a  brilliant  array  of  trophies  to  decorate  their 
memory. 

"  The  Alchemists  were  the  first  to  practise  the  experimental 
method,  or  the  apjilication  of  observation  and  induction  to  scientific 
researches.     Moreover,  by  collecting  a  large  body  of  facts  relative 


480  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

to  the  molecular  action  of  different  substances,  they  rendered  neces- 
sary and  certain  the  creation  of  chemistry."  "  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  the  Alchemists  first  inaugurated  the  art  of  experience.  They 
opened  the  "way  for  the  positive  sciences,  by  resting;  the  interpreta- 
tion of  phenomena  on  the  examination  of  facts,  and  by  thus  distinctly 
abandoning  the  metaphysical  traditions  ^vhich  had  so  long  fettered  the 
impulse  of  original  investigation."*  The  Alchemists  methodically 
practised  vhat  Eacon  reduced  to  rule,  and  imperfectly  illustrated. 

Whatever  doubts  or  cavils  may  be  suggested  in  regard  to  the  ex- 
tent of  their  conscious  acquaintance  with  the  philosophy  of  induction, 
their  special  services  to  science  are  beyond  question.  "  A  rapid 
glance  at  the  labours  of  the  most  celebrated  masters  of  the  Hermetic 
art  proves  that  to  them  appertain  a  great  part  of  the  discoveries 
"svhich  have  been  used  in  the  construction  of  chemistry."  y 

Geber,  one  of  the  earliest  ^vriter3  of  the  school,  -was  the  first  to 
give  accurate  descriptions  of  our  ordinary  metals,  mercury,  silver, 
lead,  copper,  and  iron;  he  has  also  discussed  v/ith  precision  the 
characteristics  of  sulphur  and  arsenic.  He  teaches  the  preparation  of 
aquafortis  and  crfda  regia ;  notes  the  dissolvent  action  of  aquafortis 
on  the  metals,  and  of  aqua  rcgia  on  gold,  silver,  and  brimstone. 
He  is  also  the  first  to  announce  many  chemical  compounds,  vrhich 
forages  have  been  employed  in  the  laboratory  and  ill  pharmacy; 
lapis  infernalis,  or  lunar  caustic,  corrosive  sublimate,  red  precipi- 
tate, liver  of  sulphur,  milk  of  sulphur,  ^tc. 

To  the  Saracens  of  Spain,  ami  the  Alchemists,  are  duo  the  plan  and 
the  example  of  a  Dispensatory  or  Pharmacopoeia. 

Rhazes  discovered  the  preparation  of  spirits  of  vrine,  and  recom- 
mended several  medicines  in  which  it  vras  a  principal  ingredient. 
Among  the  new  compounds  mentioned  by  him,  are  orpiment,  real- 
gar, borax,  certain  products  of  copper  and  iron,  some  mercurial  salts, 
several  preparations  of  arsenic,  vtc.  "  The  secret  art  of  chemistry,'' 
says  Rhazcs.  '"  i?  ]io.ssible  rather  than  impos.-ible.  Its  n";y-:tL'ric3 
disclose  themselves  only  to  labour  and  perseverance;  but  what  a 
glorious  triumph  it  is  when  man  can  raise  a  corner  of  the  veil  which 
conceals  the  face  of  nature  I" 

To  Albertus  Magnus  wo  are  indebted  for  the  caustic  potash  of 
our  present  laboratories.  Ho  also  describes  the  cupellation  of  gold 
and  silver,  and  tlie  use  to  be  made  of  aqua  fortis  in  the  separation 
of  gold  and  silver  from  alloys  of  the  precious  metals.  He  first  es- 
tablished the  com.position  of  cinnabar ;  recorded  the  action  of  heat  on 

■^Figuicr,  pp.  7G,  77. 

tFiguier,  p.  7S,  from  whom  we  chiefly  borrow  the  enumeration  of  the  discov 
erica  of  Alcheuij. 


1S5G.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  481 

sulphur,  and  described  con-cctlj  the  preparation  of  ■white  and  red 
lead,  and  the  acetates  of  lead  and  copper. 

Before  this  period  Albucasis  had  described  the  preparation  of  sal 
ammoniac* 

Roger  Bacon,  besides  his  other  important  contributions  to  the 
arts  and  sciences,  studied  the  properties  of  saltpetre,  and  improved 
the  manufacture  of  gunpo^yder.  He  also  noticed  the  chemical 
action  of  air  in  the  process  of  combustion. 

Raymond  Lulij  j;)erfected  and  carcfullj-  recorded  the  preparation 
of  carbonate  of  potassa  from  tartar,  and  from  ^YOod-a3he3,  tlic  rectifi- 
cation of  spirits  of  -wine,  the  fabrication  of  essential  oils,  the  cupel- 
lation  of  silver,  and  the  formation  of  amalgams. 

Isaac,  of  Holland,  produced  enamels  and  artificial  gems,  and 
instead  of  taking  out  a  patent  for  his  inventions,  published  the  rou- 
tine of  his  ingenious  devices. 

Basil  Valentine  discovered  the  metallic  character  of  antimony, 
and  examined  its  properties  with  such  success  in  his  "  Currus  irium- 
phalis  antiinonii,''  as  to  publish  in  the  fifteenth  century  many  cu- 
rious facts  relative  to  it,  -which  have  been  recently  regarded  as  new 
discoveries.  He  described  several  very  important  chemical  prepa- 
rations :  sulphuric  acid,  or  oil  of  vitriol  •,t  spirits  of  salt,  or  chloruhy- 
dric  acid ;  the  extraction  of  copper  from  pyrites,  which  vras  employed 
by  the  later  Alchemists,  -whom  the  operation  deceived,  or  served  for 
the  deception  of  others,  as  a  veritable  transmutation  of  copper  into 
iron.  He  announced  the  composition  and  explosive  property  of  fulmi- 
nating gold.  He  commenced  cxporirnents  in  organic  chcmi:  try,  and 
he  maybe  regarded  as  the  first  person  v.ho  obtained  sulphuric  ether. 

These  discoveries  preceded  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages.  During 
the  same  period  the  Alchemists  had  discovered  and  practised  a  mode 
of  dying  scarlet,  -which  has  not  been  equalled  in  our  times.  The 
discovery  of  oxygon  by  Priestley  at  the  end  of  the  last  century  had 
been  already  anticipated  in  the  fifceenth  by  Eck  von  Sukbach. 

After  the  revival  of  learning  the  services  of  Alchemy  -were  not  less 
signal  than  they  had  previously  been.  Paracelsus — -^'C  still  follo-w 
the  guidance  of  M.  Siguier — Philippus  Aureolus  Theophrastus 
Paracelsus,  whose  true  name  vras  Bombast  Von  Hohcnheim,  first 
emi)loycd  calomel  and  other  mineral  compounds  medicinally.  '•  For 
the  old  therapeutics  of  the  Galcnists,  he  substituted  ;;imple  medica- 
ments obtained  by  chemical  operations,  and  first  attempted  the 
daring  application  of  chemistry  to  human  physiology  and  patliology." 
He  -was  also  the  first  to  make  zinc  known  to  the  vrorld. 

'^BccVraann.  Hist.  Invention.^,  vol.  ii,  p.  403,  ed.  Lobn. 

t  Turner's  Chemistry,  eighth  English  eil.,  by  Licbig  and  Gregory,  p.  239. 


482  Alchemy  mid  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

Van  Ilclmont,  a  believer,  if  not  an  expert  in  Alchemy,  was  the 
first  to  recognise  the  existence  of  gaseous  bodies.  Rudolph  Glauber, 
besides  his  invention  of  the  salts — Sal  7nirahile — known  by  his 
name,  first  taught  the  importance  of  not  rejecting  as  useless  the 
caput  viortuum,  or  residuum  of  chemical  operations,  a  lesson  which 
has  since  been  practised,  and  has  produced  the  most  valuable 
chemical  discoveries.  Beccher,  a  professed  Alchemist,  coordinated 
the  scattered  facts  which  had  been  already  recognised,  endeavoured 
to  harmonize  them  by  a  connected  theory  of  the  phenomena,  and 
thus  prepared  the  revolution  in  chemistry  accomplished  by  George 
Stahl,  himself  at  one  time  a  believer  in  Alchem}'. 

John  Baptist  Porta  discovered  the  mode  of  reducing  the  metallic 
oxides ;  he  described  the  preparation  of  the  flowers  of  tin,  and  the 
mode  of  colouring  silver,  and  succeeded,  after  Eck  von  Sulzbach,  in 
obtaining  the  tree  of  Diana.  In  1G60,  Brandt,  an  Alchemist  of 
Hamburgh,  detected  phosphorus  while  seeking  the  philosopher's 
stone  in  a  liquid  product  of  the  human  body.  Alexander  Seton  and 
Michael  Sendivogus,  in  the  course  of  similar  researches,  perfected 
the  processes  of  dying  and  the  preparation  of  mineral  and  vegetable 
colours.  In  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  John  Frederick 
Butticher,  the  chosen  disciple  and  successor  of  Lascaris,  obtained 
the  first  success  in  the  manufacture  of  porcelain.  In  1704  he 
invented  the  red  porcelain,  a  result  of  his  endeavours  to  procure 
crucibles  for  alchemical  operations  requiring  a  high  and  long- 
continued  degree  of  heat.  Botticher  was  at  this  time  confined  by 
the  Elector  of  Saxony  in  the  fortress  of  Konigstein,  under  the 
charge  of  the  Graf  von  Tschirnhausen,  in  consequence  of  his  refusal 
or  inability  to  continue  his  transmutations  of  the  baser  metals  into 
gold.  Europe  was  anxiousl}'  engaged  in  assiduous  endeavours  to 
discover  the  manufacture  of  porcelain,  Avhich  was  then  obtained  only 
from  China  and  Japan,  whore  the  secret  of  its  production  was  most 
carefully  concealed.  Tscliirnhau.^en  had  engaged  jn  experiments  to 
effect  this  object,  and  was  eager  and  diligent  in  his  investigations.  His 
prisoner  was  induced  to  participate  in  his  labours,  and  the  discovery 
of  red  porcelain  was  the  result.  In  ITOG  a  factory  was  established 
at  Dresden;  and  in  1707  Butticher  was  removed  from  Konigstein 
to  a  house  provided  with  a  laboratory  fur  ceramic  experiments. 
Here  he  prosecuted  his  researches  in  concert  with  Tchirnhausen, 
and  under  his  surveillance.  lie  was  permitted  to  visit  Dresden 
occasionally,  but  was  always  accompanied  by  the  count,  who  was 
answerable  for  his  person. 

The  next  year  Tschirnhausen  died,  a  man  memorable  on  other 
accounts  besides  his  connexion  with  the  history  of  Dresden  china. 


1856.]  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  483 

His  great  work,  Tlo^y  forgotten,  2fedicina  Mentis,  merits  honourable 
mention  even  in  comparison  with  the  Novum  Organon  of  Lord 
Bacon.  The  year  following.  Botticher  succeeded  in  producing  genuine 
white  porcelain  by  the  employment  of  kaolin,  which  he  had  dis- 
covered at  Aue,  near  Schneeberg.  "It  Avas  under  the  strict  sur- 
veillance with  which  he  was  surrounded,  that  Botticher  was  com- 
pelled to  pursue  the  laborious  and  protracted  experiments  which 
conducted  him  to  this  valuable  discovery.  His  natural  vivacity 
triumphantly  surmounted  all  obstacles.  He  was  obliged  to  pass 
entire  nights  over  his  furnace,  and  during  the  trial  of  the  clay  in  the 
oven,  trials  which  lasted  three  or  four  successive  days  without 
interruption,  he  never  quitted  his  post,  but  kept  up  the  attentions 
of  the  workmen  by  his  humour  and  entertaining  conversation."* 
The  po!'celain  manufacture  was  more  enriching  to  Saxony  than  the 
fabrication  of  gold  would  have  been.  Botticher,  strong  in  his  posi- 
tion, and  confident  that  he  had  enriched  the  state,  confessed  to  the 
elector  that  he  had  never  possessed  the  secret  of  the  philosopher's 
stone,  but  had  performed  his  earlier  experiments  with  the  tincture 
bestowed  upon  him  by  his  preceptor  Lascaris.  In  1710  a  factory 
of  white  porcelain  was  created  at  the  Chateau  d' Albert,  at  Meissen, 
and  the  manufacture  of  Dresden  china  was  definitely  established. 
Botticher  was  restored  to  the  honours  and  baronial  title  with  which 
his  transmutations  had  been  rewarded,  but  of  which  he  had  been 
deprived  when  he  failed  to  satisfy  the  expectations  created  by  his 
first  successes.  He  was  also  appointed  superintendent  of  the  Dres- 
den china  manufacture;  but,  with  the  acquisition  of  freedom,  ease, 
and  dignity,  he  lost  his  habits  of  industry,  and  passed  the  remainder 
of  his  life  in  luxury  and  sensual  gratifications,  dying  in  1710,  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty-seven. f 

We  have  given  the  details  of  the  discovery  of  the  porcelain  manu- 
facture of  Dresden,  because  it  is  the  only  illustration  of  the  life  and 
career  of  the  Alchemists  that  our  space  permit?  us  to  iiitr''"luco. 
For  the  full  exemplification  of  their  diflRculties,  anxieties,  and  perse- 
cutions, the  sudden  alternations  of  brilliant  fortune  and  abject 
misery,  we  must  direct  our  readers  to  the  entertaining  pages  of 
M.  Figuier.  in  which  he  has  briefly  narrated  the  lives  of  ^Sicholas 
Flamel,  Edward  Kelly,  Richthauson,  Alexander  Scton,  Michael 
Scndivogius,  the  Rosicrucians.  Phllalethes,  Lascaris,  Botticher,  De 
Lisle,  Gaetand,  and  the  inferior  adepts  who  were  connected  with 

**  Figuier,  p.  307,  from  whom  this  account  of  Botticher  is  extracted. 

t  It  is  singular  that  the  history  of  pottery  ami  porcelain  is  entirely  omitted  in 
Beckmann's  valuable  History  of  Inventions,  and  that  the  services  of  Botticher 
are  wholly  unnoticed  in  Dr.  Ure's  Dictionary  of  Manufactures. 


484  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

their  fortunes.  These  notices  constitute  the  most  entertaining,  but 
not  the  most  instructive  part  of  M.  Figuier's  volume,  and  constitute 
his  history  of  transmutations  supposed  to  be  successful. 

After  due  consideration  of  the  number,  and  judicious  estimation 
of  the  value  of  the  services  rendered  by  the  Alchemists  to  the  cause 
of  science  and  the  useful  arts,  there  'svill  be  fe^v  who  vrill  challenge 
the  justice  of  M.  Figuier's  remark.  "  It  is  only  by  the  assistance  of 
the  numerous  discoveries  of  the  Alchemists  that  modern  chemistry 
has  been  enabled  to  rise  to  the  dignity  of  a  science.  Unquestionably 
these  facts  are  unconnected  by  any  common  j^rinciplc,  and  do  not 
constitute  a  systematic  whole.  Consequently,  they  do  not  present 
the  characteristics  of  a  science;  but  they  supply  the  elements  indis- 
pensable to  the  creation  of  a  scientific  system.  The  powerful  empire 
exercised  over  the  minds  of  men  for  fifteen  hundred  years* by  the 
grand  idea  of  the  transmutation  of  metals  was  required  for  the 
accomplishment  of  those  preparatory  labours,  whose  achievement 
was  needed  as  the  large  base  for  the  erection  of  the  monument  of 
modern  chemistry.  Before  attaining  the  conviction  that  the  philos- 
opher"?, stone  was  a  pure  chimera,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  in  review 
all  the  facts  accessible  to  observation ;  and  when,  after  fifteen  cen- 
turies of  labour,  the  day  came  for  the  recognition  of  the  error  into 
which  men  had  been  betrayed,  that  very  day  it  vras  manifest  that 
chemistry  was  already  constituted. 

"  Chemists  of  the  current  ago  \  let  us  not  censure  too  harshly  the 
Hermetic  philosophers:  let  us  not  renounce  all  respect  for  the 
ancient  heritage  they  have  bequeathed  to  us ;  insensate  or  sublime, 
they  are  our  legitimate  ancestors.  If  Alchemy  failed  to  find  the 
object  of  its  search,  it  found  what  it  did  not  seek.  If  it  blundered 
in  its  long  effort  to  find  the  philosopher's  stone,  it  discovered 
chemistry;  and  this  conquest  is  infinitely  more  precious  than  the 
vain  arcanum  so  wildly  pursued  by  the  enthusiasm  of  our  fathers."* 

But.  notvrithstnnding  this  clo::-".  fnnchrc  so  tenderly  pronounced 
over  the  remains  of  the  Alchemists,  their  art  has  never  been  entirely 
renounced.  We  have  already  adduced  the  evidence  of  its  persistence 
even  among  our  contemporaries,  and  ?.[.  Figuier  deems  it  necessary 
to  complete  his  essay  by  devolving  its  fourth  and  concluding  part 
to  the  exposition  and  confutation  of  the  Alchemy  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  This  is  the  least  satisfactor}*  portion  of  his  labours,  v.hich 
are  throughout  imperfect.  He  establishes  by  ample  instances  the 
fact  of  the  continuance  of  Alchemical  convictions  and  Alclicmical 
pursuits,  adding  to  the  evidence  already  adduced  by  us  several 
other  testimonies.  Thus,  in  1S37.  an  Alchemist  of  Thuringia  pre- 
<^  Figuier,  pp.  S4,  8.3. 


185G.]  Alchemy  and  tlte  Alchemists.  485 

sented  to  the  Society  of  Industry  of  Saxe-Weimar,  a  tincture 
represented  by  him  as  competent  to  effect  the  transmutation  of 
metals.  About  tb.e  same  time  a  course  of  public  lectures,  at  jMunich, 
on  the  Hermetic  Philosoph}'.  -was  advertised  by  Prof.  V>.\  the  initial 
only  is  given.  Another  M.  B..  a  professor  in  one  of  the  provincial 
colleges  of  Prance,  undertook  the  defence  of  this  philosophy,  in  a 
Treatise  on  Chemistry,  published  at  Paris  in  1844.  Alchemists  are 
still  to  bo  found  throughout  G ermany,  in  many  parts  of  Italy,  and  in 
most  of  the  large  cities  of  France.  M.  Figuier  speaks  from  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  the  coterie  of  Alchemists  who  were  in  the  habit 
of  assembling  in  the  laboratory  of  M.  L.,  at  Paris,  subsequent  to 
1840.  The  proof  of  the  contemporarj'  existence  of  Alchemy  is  more 
than  sufficient,  but  i\\e  form  \vhich  the  author  has  adopted  for  the 
exhibition  and  refutation  of  the  arguments  by  -which  the  continued 
faith  is  maintained  is  unfavourable  to  an  impartial  examination  of 
the  subject,  however  piquant  it  may  be. 

M.  Figuier  has  recourse  to  the  dialogue  for  this  purpose,  and  re- 
ports a  real  or  imaginar}-  discussion  betvreen  himself,  and  a  young 
adept  whom  ho  frequently  met  at  the  laboratory  of  Jl.  L.  This 
young  Ilcrmcsian,  unlike  liis  colleagues,  sustained  his  convictions  by 
an  appeal  to  the  truths  and  most  recent  investigations  of  modem 
chemistry,  instead  of  resting  his  faith  entirely  on  the  disappointed 
traditions  and  falsified  liopes  of  the  past.  The  triumph  of  the  dis- 
cussion of  course  devolves  upon  M.  Figuier,  but  we  cannot  but  think 
that  the  strength  and  the  originality  of  the  argument  are  on  the 
side  of  the  Alchemist.  It  is  not  easy  to  perceive  what  decisive 
reply  can  bo  made  to  the  positions  of  the  latter,  who  alllrms  the 
possibility  rather  than  the  reality  of  transmutation,  after  the  fatal 
admission:  "In  the  present  state  of  our  sciences  the  imjjossibility 
of  transmuting  the  metals  cannot  be  rigorously  demonstrated  ;  sun- 
dry circumstances  oppose  the  rejection  of  the  doctrine  of  Alchemy 
as  an  absurrlity  contradicted  by  facts."*  The  reasoning  of  M. 
Figuier  proceeds  almost  entirely  on  the  repetition  of  the  former 
failures  of  the  Alchemists ;  a  style  of  objection  which  is  wholly  in- 
conclusive, and  v.hlch  would  have  equally  disproved  the  possibility 
of  the  daguerreotype,  the  magnetic  telegraph,  and  many  of  the 
proudest  of  our  modern  scientific  inventions.  The  reasoning  of  the 
apologist  for  Alchemy,  though  his  argument  appears  weaker  than  it 
might  have  been  made,  is  a  dexterous  adaptation  of  the  principles, 
discoveries,  and  present  dithculties  of  chemistry  to  the  rehabilitation 
of  the  repudiated  art.  lie  very  pointedly  and  justly  reprobates  the 
impatience  and  rapid  experimentation  of  modern  chemists,  and 
*  Figuier,  p.  o53. 


486  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.  [July, 

alleges  that  by  their  summary  method  of  procedure  they  ^vould 
never  have  obtained  such  a  result ;  as  the  li^^ht,  porous,  golden- 
coloured  stone,  shown  by  an  Alchemist  to  Gassicourt,  procured  by 
exposing  rain  water  for  years  to  spontaneous  evaporation,  and  col- 
lecting the  iridescent  film  which  was  formed  on  its  surface.*  Does 
not  iron  become  magnetic  by  being  left  undisturbed  for  years  in  one 
position  ?  and  may  not  time  and  the  undetected  influences  of  nature 
effect  other  still  more  remarkable  changes? 

But  it  is  not  simply  the  insufficiency  of  the  exposure  that  we 
censure  in  this  graceful  dialogue ;  it  is  still  more  its  double  indis- 
tinctness. The  conclusion  is  inconclusive ;  and  either  argument  is 
inconclusive  also.  At  times  we  suspect  that  M.  Figuier  intended 
to  produce  this  impression,  and  that  his  association  with  the  Pari- 
sian Alchemists,  whom  he  has  depicted  in  terms  singularly  appro- 
priate to  their  predecessors  also,  has  infected  him  with  a  stronger 
inclination  toward  Alchemy  than,  as  a  man  of  science,  he  is  willing 
to  avow  or  has  at  least  produced  uncertainty  in  his  mind  on  the 
subject. 

Whether  this  conjecture,  however,  be  just  or  unfounded,  and 
■whatever  the  defects  of  his  argument  may  be,  the  dialogue  is  a  no- 
table exemplification  of  the  rationality  which  may  still  be  attached 
to  Alchemical  j.ursuits ;  and  demonstrates  the  fact  that  chemistry  has 
not  answered  or  refuted  Alchemy  in  a  satisfactory  manner.  At  the 
close  of  the  conversation,  the  adept  hands  to  his  antagonist  an  an- 
cient volume,  which  he  begs  him  to  read,  directing  his  attention 
particularly  to  the  motto  on  the  title  page,  a  venerated  maxim  of 
the  Hermetic  school : 

Sege,  lege,  et  relege,  labora,  ora,  et  inveniea. 

We  would  extend  a  similar  recommendation  to  our  readers,  in 
regard  to  the  argument  of  the  youthful  modern  Alchemist,  the 
pleasing  volume  of  ^NI.-  Figuier,  and  the  whole  history  and  doctrine 
of  Alchemy,  being  equally  assuretl  that  the  mysteries  of  the  Al- 
chemists have  not  yet  been  duly  appreciated,  and  that  valuable 
practical  fruits  would  be  gathered  from  a  thorough  re-examination 
and  an  adequate  criticism  of  their  memorable  labours  and  doctrines. 
'^  Figuier,  p.  349. 


1856.1  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  487 


Art.  VIIL— short  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS. 

It  is  of  greatest  concernment  in  the  Cliurcb  and  Commonwealth  to  have  a  vigilant 
cjL*  how  books  (l-^raean  themselves  as  well  as  men,  and  thereafter  to  confine, 
iiniirison,  and  do  sharpest  justice  ou  them  as  malefactors  ;  for  books  are  not  abso- 
lutely dead  things,  but  do  contain  a  potencj  of  life  in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that 
soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are. — Miltox. 

(1.)  '' Einhlemx  from  E'len,  by  Jajies  Hamilton',  D.  D."  (Xcw-York : 
Carter  &  Brothers,  18mo.,  pp.  159,)  is  a  series  of  illustrations  of  the  Christian 
life,  from  the"  vine,"  the  •'  ceilar,"  the  "  tree  of  life,"  &c.,  iuthe  attractive  style 
so  characteristic  of  Dr.  Ilaniilton. 


(2.)  "  Italian  Sif/hts  and  Papat Principles,  seen  throurjh  American  Spectacles" 
(New-York  :  Harper  &  Brothers;  1856;  r2mo.,  pp.  382,)  is  by  the  author 
(Mr.  Jarvis)  of  the  "  Parisian  Sights,"  noticed  in  our  last  number.  Tlit-re  is 
more  solid  information  in  this  work  than  in  the  former,  especially  with  regard 
to  the  mummeries  of  Itoinan  Catholic  worship  iu  its  central  seat.  To  karn 
how  utterly  Christianity  is  debased  in  the  hands  of  the  pope  and  his  cardinals, 
who  profess  to  be  Christ's  chief  disciples  ou  earth,  one  has  only  to  read  tliis 
graphic  and  entertaining  book. 


(3.)  Memorials  of  Captain  Iledlei/  Vicars,"  (New- York :  Carter  &  Brothers ; 
185G  ;  pp.  SOO,)  is  a  pleasant  sketch  of  the  life  of  a  young  English  oflicer,  who 
united  the  courage  of  the  Christian  with  that  of  the  soldier.  Preserving  his 
religious  zeal  and  life  through  the  temptations  of  the  former  part  of  the  Crimean 
campaign,  he  tell  at  Sebastopol,  March  22,  1S55.  This  little  biography 
deserves  wide  circulation,  especially  among  young  men. 


(4.)  "Recollections  of  the  Table  Talk  of  Saynuel  Rogers;  to  wJiich  is  added  Por- 
soniana."  (New-York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co  ;  12mo.;  pp.  346.)  Had  the  latter 
years  of  Rogers  been  attended,  as  Johnson's  were,  by  such  a  shadow  as  Bos- 
•well,  we  should  certainly  have  had  a  better  collection  of  Jiogersiana  than  Mr. 
Dyce  has  given  us  in  this  volume.  Much  of  it  is  weak  and  worthless ;  but 
there  are  a  few  memoranda  worthy  of  preservation,  and  the  book,  as  a  whole, 
though  it  adds  nothing  to  Rogers's  reputation,  either  as  a  poet  or  as  a  man,  is 
pleasant  and  easy  to  read. 

(5.)  "  77/e  Faith  h>j  which  we  are  Sanctifed,"  by  "W.  P.  Stricklani>,  D.  D., 
(New- York:  200  ^Mulberry-street ;  pp.  32,)  is  a  sermon  on  Mark  .\i,  24,  in 
•which  Dr.  Strickland  develops  the  meaning  of  the  text  very  dearly,  and 
points  out  the  dangers  to  whii.h  a  false  interpretation  of  it  must  give  rise. 


(6.)  "Var/ahnnd  Life  in  Mexico"  by  Gabriei.  Ferky.  ( New- York :  Harper 
&  Brothers  ;  1856  ;  pp.  344.)  The  title  of  this  volume  very  well  indicates  its 
contents.  Jt  gives  a  graphic  description  of  the  monks,  the  leperos,  the 
bandits,  and  the  soldiers  that  infest  that  unhappy  countrj-. 


488  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  [July, 

(7.)  "  Post-BiUical  History  of  the  Jews,"  by  M.  J.  Raphall,  M.  D.  (Phila- 
delpbia:  iMois  &  Brothers;  1S5G;  2  vols.,  r2mo.)  _  The  aim  of  this  work  is  to 
give,  from  the  Je\\ish  point  of  view,  an  account  of  the  fortunes  of  tlic  Jewish 
people,  from  the  close  of  the  Old  Testament  to  the  destruction  of  the  second 
temple,  CA.  I).  70.)  It  Is  not  intended  so  much  for  the  learned  as  for  the 
people  ;  but  vet  it  poifessc?  a  peculiar  interest  to  all  students  of  Biblical 
and  even  of  general  history,  from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  first  history  of  the  Jews 
written  by  a  Jew  qualified  for  the  task,  in  the  English  tongue. 


(S.)  "We  have  not  had  time  to  give  fo  thorougli  an  examination  to  "  A  Com- 
vieniary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephcslans,"  by  Cuakles  Hodge,  D.  D.,  (New- 
York:  H.  Carter  &  Biothcrs;  1S5C;  Svo.,  pp.  398,)  as  the  Importance  of  the 
work  demands.  At  present  we  can  only  note  its  appearance,  remarking, 
simply,  that  it  has  much,  even  to  a  hasty  glance,  of  the  painstaking  industry 
that  marks  the  other  commentaries  of  ])r.  Ilodije. 


(9.)  ^^  Sir/Jit  and  Hcarhiy :  how  Preserved  and  how  Lost"  by  J.  IIe>'UY 
Ci.AnK,  iVI.  I).  (Xew-York  :  C.  Scribncr;  18.00  ;  12mo.,  pp.  351.)  This  book 
is  designed,  not  for  the  faculty,  fciit  for  the  people.  It  treats  clearly  and 
sensibly  of  the  structure  and  functions  of  the  eye  and  ear,  of  the  various  dis- 
orders to  whicli  they  are  incident,  and  of  the  modes  of  preventing  and  reme- 
dying such  disorders.  The  work  abounds  in  practical  advice  of  great  value 
as  to  the  physical  education  of  children,  and  as  to  the  use  and  abuse  of  the 
organs  of  sight  and  hearing  In  matu:o  life. 


(10.)  ^'■Sketches  and  Advcnturr.^  in  Madeira,  Portugal,  and  S])ain."  (New- 
York  :  Ilarpt^r  &:  Brothers  ;  18.06  ;  12mo.,  pp.  445.)  The  writer  of  this  book 
Is  both  skilled  and  practised  in  the  art :  he  sees  well,  groups  well,  and 
describes  well.  An  endless  flow  of  .'Spirits  pervades  his  pages,  and  quickens  the 
reader's  interest  to  the  end.  But  there  is  one  drawback,  sufficient  to 
counterbalance  all  other  good  qualities:  the  immoral  tone  of  many  of  the 
descriptive  pa.^sages.  Strange  that  a  man  of  sense  could  so  disfigure  a  good 
book. 

(11.)  ^'■The  Lland of  Cuha"  hy  Alp'.xaxdkr  IIumkolpt,  with  Notes  and  a 
rreliminary  Essay,  by  J.  S.  Thrruhcr.  (New- York:  Derby  &  Jackson  ;  185G; 
r2mo.,  pp.  397.)  Humboldt's  part  of  this  work,  the  translation  of  which  is  made 
fi  om  a  Spanish  version,  constitutes  il.^  chief  value,  though  the  notes  and  additional 
remarks  of  Mr.  Thrasher,  so  far  as  they  are  confined  to  st:itenients  of  fact,  are 
also  very  uscfid.  The  gcncr.d  drift  of  the  preliminary  essay  is  to  show  the 
Iniportnii' (!  of  Cula  to  the  United  Stites.and  to  propagate  the  foolish  fear  and 
hatred  of  England,  which  seems  to  be  the  only  stock  in  trade  of  a  certain  clas^ 
of  Ameri'-an  ])or!ticIans.  But  the  good  .sense  of  the  people,  under  tlie  guidance 
of  Providence,  will  finally,  wc  trust,  repudiate  the  fili'iuslcros,  with  all  their 
aiders  and  abettors. 


185G.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  489  . 

(12.)  '■^  History  and  Repository  of  Pulpit  Eloqucncf,"  conipilcd  by  the  Rev.  \!^ 
Henry  C.  Fisii.  ( New- York  :  M.  "W.  Dodd  ;  2  vols.,  8vo.;  ISJG.)  The  de- 
sign of  this  work  is  to  furnish  a  history  of  preaching  in  all  ages,  and  to  illus- 
trate it  by  suitable  examples  from  the  best  sermons  produced  in  different 
periods.  The  Greek  and  Latin  pulpit  is  treated  in  a  brief  hi,-torical  sketch, 
and  then  Ave  have  sermons  from  the  great  Church  fathers,  e.g.,  TcrtuUian. 
Cyril,  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  Scr.  The  English  pulpit  follows,  with  selecrions 
of  sermons  from  the  time  of  WiclifF  down  to  William  Jay.  Then  cou\e,  in 
order,  the  Gernum,  the  Iri~h.  the  French,  the  Scottish,  the  American,  ani  the 
Welsh  pulpits,  each  treated  in  the  same  way.  The  conception  is  a  very  com- 
prehensive one,  and  Mr.  Fi3Ti"Tia3  e.xecuted  it  with  much  industry  and  skill. 
His  aim  has  been  to  choose  the  best  models  of  preaching  in  each  nation  and 
period,  and  though  it  cannot  be  expected  that  all  would  commend  his  choice  in 
every  particular,  it  will  be  admitted  that  he  has.  in  the  main,  succeeded  almira- 
bly.  About  thirty  of  the  discourses  are  from  foreign  languages,  and  the  editor 
has  availed  himself  of  the  best  assistance  in  rendering  them  into  English.  On 
the  whole,  the  book  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  contributions  to  the  minister's 
library  in  the  department  of  homiletics,  that  has  appeared  of  late  years. 


(13.)  "^  Key  to  the  Bible,  by  David  Dobie,"  (Xew-York :  C.  Scribner : 
185G  ;  12mo.,  pp.  322,)  should  rather  have  been  entitled,  '•  An  Essay  on  Bib- 
lical Interpretation  for  popular  use."  As  such  it  has  decided  merits,  and  we 
can  cordially  recommend  it  for  the  use  of  general  readers  of  Scripture,  who 
wish  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  chief  laws  of  interprt-tatiou. 


(14.)  "  The  Lady's  Guide  to  Perfect  Gentility,"  (New-York :  Derby  &  Jack- 
son; 1856  ;  12mo.,  pp.  228,)  shows,  by  its  title,  the  class  of  books  to  whi.h  it 
belongs;  and,  like  most  others  of  the  sort,  it  has  in  it  much  sense  and  much 
nonsense.  The  parts  which  relate  to  physical  training  and  habits  contain  the 
sense  ;  those  which  tell  how  to  introduce  people,  how  to  behave  at  dinner,  &c.. 
are  not  free  from  nonsense. 


(15.)  Professor  Loomis's  qualifications  as  a  writer  of  school  and  college 
tc.Kt-books  in  ^latliL-maties  are  so  wl-U  known  that  it  is  only  necessary  to  s:.y  tLi.it 
"vl  Treatise  on  Arithmetic,  Theoretical  and  Practical,"  {iScvr-York:  H:irpcr  & 
Brothers;  1S5G  ;  12mo.,  pp.  331  j  has  appeared  from  his  pen,  to  insure  tlie  at- 
tention of  all  practical  instriictors  to  the  work.  We  have  examined  it  suiii- 
ciently  to  bear  testimony  to  its  clearness  of  statement,  and  entire  ada2)tation  to 
the  wants  of  American  schools. 


(16.)  ^'-Select  Lectures,  comprising  some  of  the  more  valuable  Lectures  delivered 
Icfore  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  in  Exeter  Hall,  edited  Ly  D.  W. 
Clark,  D.  D."  (Cincinnati:  Swormstcdt  &  Toe;  1S5G;  l2mo.,  pp.430.) 
These  lectures  are  selectcil  from  eight  volumes  of  like  size  published  in  Lon- 
don between  lS-17  ami  IS.'k"),  and  may,  therefore,  be  supposed  to  contain  the 

Fourth  Serieo,  Vol.  V11I.-^31 


490  Short  Revietvs  and  Notices  of  Books.  [July, 

cream  of  the  Exeter  Hall  discourses.     The  volume  is  one  of  rare  value,  and 
should  find  wide  circulation  among  American  joung  men. 


(17.)  The  history  of  the  colonization  of  the  great  "West  abounds  in  romance; 
indeed,  every  fimily  descended  from  the  early  '-settlers"  has  its  traditions  of 
heroic  deeds  and  wild  adventure.  This  field  has  been  wrought  a  good  deal  of 
late  years,  but  seldom  with  better  fruit  than  in"  T/(ePiO/ieers  of  the  ]Vest ;  or, 
TJfe'm  the  Woch,  by  AV.  P.  Strickland."  (Xcw-York  :  Carlton  &  Phil- 
lips; 185G  ;  12mo.,  pp.  403.)  Dr.  Strickland  is  a  great  collector  of  material, 
and  knows  how  to  use  it  w^hon  he  gets  it.  The  book  before  us  will  keep  the 
boys  awake,  and  charm  many  a  fireside  during  the  long  winter  nights,  in  the 
East  as  well  as  in  the  West. 


(18.)  'M  Journey  in  the  Seahoard  Slave  Stales,  ivith  Remarks  on  their  Economy,  by 
F.  L.  Olmsted."  (New- York :  IS.JG  ;  12mo.,  pp.  723.)  The  author  of"  Walks 
and  Talks  of  an  American  Farmer  in  England"  will  always  find  a  hearing,  let 
him  talk  of  what  he  will;  and  in  the  present  volume  he  treats  of  a  region  of 
country  that  is,  perhaps,  less  known  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  rest  of  the  United 
States  than  England  and  Wales.  Few  travellers  visit  the  "  Seaboard  Slave 
States ;"  there  Is  no  attraction  for  tourists,  as  such,  in  that  direction.  And 
those  who  have  attempted  to  give  us  an  account  of  this  terra  incognita,  have, 
generally,  cither  described  everything  In  rose  colour,  or  dipped  their  pencil 
in  the  deepest  black.  ^Mr.  Olmsted,  on  the  contrary,  observes  well,  and 
describes  with  impartiality  whatever  he  sees.  He  gathers  facts  and  arranges 
them  In  order  for  you,  not  in  a  merely  statistical  way,  but  as  part  of  a  narra- 
tion so  pleasant  that  you  arc  never  weary  of  going  along  with  him.  The  effects 
of  slavery  urton  the  physical,  moral,  and  economical  condition  of  the  South, 
have  never  been  so  well  descrlhed,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  so  little  heat 
and  passion,  as  in  tliis  volume.  Its  circulation  must  work  great  good  in  the 
South  as  well  as  in  the  North. 


(19.)  ^'' Life  of  Schamyl ;  and  Narration  of  the  Circassian  War  of  Independ- 
ence against  Russia,  by  J.  M.  Mackie."  (Boston :  J.  P.  Jewett  &  Co.;  1856  ; 
12mo.,  pp.  300.)  The  fiicts  of  Scham.yl's  career  have  been  gathered  from 
various  sources  by  ]Mr.  Mackie,  who  seems  to  have  taken  pains  to  get  at  the 
truth ;  but  his  style  would  rather  befit  a  romance  than  a  history. 


(20.)  "  Lectures  on  the  Life,  Crcnius,  and  Insanity  of  Cowper,  by  George  B. 
Cheeveu,  D.  D."  (New-York:  Carter  &  Brothers;  1856;  12mo.,  pp.  415.) 
This  work  has  evidently  been  a  labour  of  love.  Dr.  Cheever  is  satisfied,  as 
many  others  have  been,  that  injustice  has  been  done,  both  to  Cowper  and  to 
John  Newton,  in  the  extant  biographies ;  and  in  tliese  lectures  he  endeavours 
to  treat  of  the  mental  development  of  Cowper  and  the  struggles  of  his  beautiful 
soul,  from  a  religious  point  of  view.  The  book  is  well  executed,  in  accordance 
with  its  plan ;  though,  like  most  lectures,  it  would  bear  condensation  to  the 
advantage  of  the  reader. 


185G.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  491 

(21.)  A  copious  life  of  Bishop  Ileber  appeared,  shortly  after  his  death,  in  two 
volumes,  octavo.  The  size  and  cost  of  the  woi-k  kept  it  out  of  general  circu- 
lation ;  and  we  are  now  glad  to  announce  a  compact  "  Memoir  of  Reginald 
Hebkr,  D.  I).,  abridged  by  a  Clergyman."     (Boston:  J.  P.  Jewett  &  Co., 

185G;  r2mo.,  pp.  348.)  The  omii?sions  are  not  such  as  to  interfere  with  the 
value  of  the  book :  indeed,  for  {reneral  readers,  the  abridgment  is  the  better. 


(22.)  "Life  in  Brazil,  by  Thomas  Ewbank."  (New- York  :  Harper  & 
Brothers,  1856  ;  8vo.,pp.  469.)  Mr.  Ewbank  is  well  known  as  what  is  called 
in  certain  circles  a  "  practical  maa  ;"  and  this  book  is  a  practical  book.  The 
daily  life,  habits,  and  ways  of  the  people  of  Brazil,  (or  rather  of  Rio,  for  the 
greater  j)art  of  the  book  is  taken  up  with  that  city  and  ibs  vicinity,)  are  set 
down  accurately  and  clearly.  You  feel  that  you  are  reading  the  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth.  The  volume  Is  especially  valuable  for  its  full  descrip 
tious  of  the  festivals,  processions,  and  mummeries  of  all  sorts,  which  constitute 
the  bofly  of  what  is  called  "  religion"  in  thoroughly  Roman  Catholic  countries. 
The  reader,  after  following  I\Ir.  Ewbank's  description,  will  fully  agree  with 
him,  that  Romanism,  as  it  exists  in  Brazil  and  South  America  generally,  is  a 
barrier  to  progress,  compared  to  which  other  obstacles  are  trifling. 


(23.)  "  Ti/pical  Forms  and  Special  Ends  in  Creation,  by  the  Rev.  J.  M'Cosu,  X 
LL.  D.,  and  George  Dickie,  M.  D."  (New-Y'ork:  R.  Carter  &  Brothers, 
185G  ;  8vo.,  pp.  539.)  "  All  things,"  said  the  son  of  Sirach,  "are  double,  one 
against  another ;  and  He  hath  made  nothing  imperfect."  This  grand  seminal 
truth  is  the  essence  of  Butler's  Analogy  ;  and  It  finds  full  and  ample  expression 
in  the  noble  treatise  before  us.  The  idealistic  and  pantheistic  specula- 
tions which  either  separate  the  spiritual  from  the  material  entirely,  or  confound 
them  together,  f.nd  here  a  complete  and  final  refutation.  The  work  is 
divided  into  three  parts,  of  which  the  first  treats  of  the  principles  of  general 
order  and  special  adaptation  in  the  material  universe  ;  the  second  sets  forth  a 
series  of  facts,  (e.  g.,  the  .'Structure  and  forms  of  plants,  animals,  &c.,)  indicating 
combined  order  and  adaptation  throughout  the  various  kingdoms  of  nature; 
and  the  third  interprets  these  facts  and  their  combinations,  showing  the  har- 
mony of  the  whole  In  the  system  of  final  causes,  and  In  the  correspondences 
of  nature  and  reveLitlon.  The  book  is  for  studious  and  thoughtful  men  :  none 
other  need  undertake  to  read  it;  but  for  such  it  will  be  a  mine  of  great  wealth. 


(24.)  "  Appleton's  C'jclopfvdia  of  Biography,  comprisimj  a  scries  of  Original  V 
Memoirs  of  the  most  distinguished  Persons  of  all  Times,  edited  by  F.  L.  Hawks, 
B.  D."  (New- York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1856;  royal  Svo.,  pp.  1058.)  The 
basis  of  this  work  is  Rich's  "  Cyclopaedia  of  Biography,"  published  in  London 
a  year  or  two  since.  The  work  of  the  American  editor  has  been  chletly  con- 
fined to  the  insertion  of  American  names.  He  has  done  his  work  well, 
though  it  could  hardly  be  expected  that  all  classes  of  readers  should  be 
pleased  with  it.  It  seems  to  us  very  odd.  for  instance,  that  Bishop  Asbury's 
record  should  be  confined  to  ten  lines,  while  Bishop  Waiuwright  gets  more  than 


492  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  [July, 

half  a  column.  But  these  things  vUl  occur,  even  -with  men  as  well-meaning 
as  Dr.  Hawks.  No  biographical  dictionary,  in  a  single  volume,  approaches 
this  one  in  completeness  and  utility. 


(25.)  "  2^he  Plymouth  Collection  ojllijinns  and  Tunes  for  the  use  of  Christian 
Congregations"  (New- York  :  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co.,  1856  ;  12mo.,  pp.  483)  has 
some  faults,  but  it  is  yet  far  in  advance  of  any  book  of  its  class  yet  offered  for 
the  use  of  Cliristian  Churches.  We  hope  to  be  able  to  prove  this  assertion  in 
an  extended  article  hereafter. 


(26.)  Messrs.  IIarpek  &  Brothers  have  issued  a  new  and  revised  edition  of 
"  The  Teacher :  Moral  hijluences  emploijcd  in  the  Instruction  and  Government 
of  the  Young,  by  Jacob  Abbott."  (New- York:  185G  ;  12mo.,  pp.  353.) 
It  is  needless  to  speak  in  commendation  of  a  book  so  long  known  as  containinu 
more  practical  wisdom  than  any  other  that  has  ever  appeared  on  the  subject. 


(27.)  "  The  ConvcrCs  Counsellor,  respecting  his  Church  Relations,  by  Daniel 
"Wise,"  (Boston,  J.  P.  IMagee ;  iSmo.,  pp.  254,)  is  better  characterized  by  its 
second  title,  '•  Popular  Objections  to  Methodism  Ansvrered,  with  lleasons  why 
Methodist  Converts  should  join  a  ^Methodist  Church."  Without  being  conLro- 
■versial  in  this  form,  this  little  volume  is  an  ample  reply  to  the  slanderous  pub- 
lications of  Cooke,  Ross,  and  others  against  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
After  showing  that  all  converts  should  join  the  visible  Church,  and  that  Meth- 
odist converts  should  join  the  Methodist  Church,  he  proceeds  in  a  series  of 
brief  but  compact  and  effective  chapters,  to  develop  the  means  of  grace,  doc- 
trines, and  usages  that  are  peculiar  to  Jtlelhodism,  and  to  vindicate  them 
against  the  envenomed  assaults  of  the  writers  above  named  and  others.  Everv 
pastor,  especially  in  regions  where  the  pestilent  books  referred  to  have  been 
circulated,  should  supjily  the  newly  awakened  subjects  of  his  ministry  with  Mr. 
Wise's  excellent  little  book. 


(28.)  "77(6  Roman  Exile,  by  Gugmelmo  Gajani,"  (Boston:  J.  P.  Jewett 
&  Co.,  lS.-)6  ;  12mo.,  pp.  -150.)  gives  a  good  idea  of  modern  life  in  Italy,  and 

of  the  pulitieal  ag;l.itions  ofrccen!  year.--.  Tlu?  imbecility  of  the  papal  power, 
the  base  and  degraded  condition  of  the  Italian  governments,  and  the  general 
demoralization  of  the  people  are  well  illustrated  in  Sig.  Gajani's  narrative. 


(29.)  Messrs.  Harpers  are  continuing  the  issue  of  their  cheap  and  useful 
"  Classical  Library."  The  latest  volumes  that  have  reached  us  are  "  Select 
Orations  of  M.  T.  Cirero,  tronslattd  hi/  C.  D.  YoNGE."  (185G ;  12mo., 
pp.  580,)  and  ''The  Tragnli's  o/JCsch'jlus,  litrrallg  translated,  with  Critical  Notes 
and  an  Introduction,  by  T.  A.  Bl'cklkv,  (12mo.,  pp.  394.)  The  value  of  the 
latter  is  greatly  enhanced  by  an  appendix  from  ]\Ir.  G.  Burgess,  containing 
Hormaim's  new  readings,  with  an  English  translation  of  them,  and  a  critical 
estimate  of  their  value. 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  493 

(30.)  "J.  Voice  from  the  West  Indies,  by  the  Rev.  Jonx  Horsford." 
(London:  A.  Ilcylin ;  18rj6;  12mo.,  pp.  492.)  This  volume  contains  a  review 
of  the  character  and  results  of  missionary  labours  in  the  British  and  other 
colonies  in  the  Caribbean  Sea,  written  by  a  resident,  whose  ample  opportuni- 
ties of  observation  quality  him  to  add  to  our  knowledge  of  the  subject.  'Mr. 
Horsford  is  not  a  practised  writer;  he  errs  sadly  on  the  side  of  prolixity;  but 
the  value  of  the  matter  of  his  book  goes  far  to  atone  for  the  imperfections  of 
its  style. 

(31.)  ^^  Physiology  and  Calisthenics,  fo/-  Schools  and  Famili'jS,  hy  C\tu arisk 
E.  Befxiieu,"  (Nev.--York:  Harper  ^:  Brothers;  18mo.,  pp.  oS.)  alTords  a 
short  and  easy  course  of  physiological  lessons,  with  practical  instructions  for 
tlie  preservation  of  health,  very  sen-ibly  written.  The  water-cure  part  at  the 
end  of  the  book  were  a?  well  omitted  ;  there  is  more  danger  in  the^e  applica- 
tions, when  carried  too  far,  than  ignorant  people  are  aware ;  and  when  such 
persons  begin  tliem,  they  are  very  apt  to  go  tq  excess. 


(32.)  "  21te  Theology  of  Inventions,  by  Rev.  John  Blakeley,"  (New-York  : 
R.  Carter  &  Brothers;  ISoG  ;  12mo.,  pp.  204,)  opensa  new  field  of  religious 
thought  in  the  recognition  of  God  in  the  arts  and  inventions  of  men.  The 
writer  shows  that  the  introduction  and  gradual  development  of  mechanical  in- 
ventions abound  in  proofs  that  they  are  emanations  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and 
goodness  of  God.     The  book  is,  in  many  respects,  a  very  striking  one. 


(33.)  "  Tlie  Cathulic  :  Letters  addressed  hy  a  Jurist  to  a  young  Kinsman  pro- 
posing to  join  the  Church  of  Rome,  by  E.  H.  Derby."  (Boston:  J.  P.  Jew- 
ett  &  Co.  ;  ISoG;  12mo.,  pp.  292.)  JNIany  points  in  the  Catholic  controversy 
are  ably  handled  in  this  volume  ;  and  its  value  is  increased  by  an  appendix 
containing  Bunsen's  translation  of  the  Apostolical  Constitutions. 


(34.)  "  The  Relatives  of  Leila  Ada,"  (New- York:  "Wiley  and  Ilalsted  ;  1856; 
18mo.,  pp.  253,)  is  an  extract  from  the  "Morning  Land,"  a  book  in  which  the 
author  of  Leila  Ada  has  given  a  further  account  of  the  family  of  the  young 
Jewess.  The  readers  of  Leila  Ada  Avill  not  need  any  urging  to  purchase  the 
present  volume,  \\-liich  has  all  the  Interest  of  romance. 

(35.)  '^Recognition  in  Heaven,  by  the  Rev,  L.Rosser,  M.  A."  (Richmond: 
1856;  12mo.,  pp.  201.)  Mr.  Rosser  argues  the  recognition  of  friends  in 
heaven  from  the  Scriptures,  and  from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  with  great  force 
and  fervency.  The  bfwk  is  calculated  to  console  the  bereaved  as  well  as  to 
stimulate  the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  all  believers. 


(36.)  It  is  well  known  that  ditrerences  of  opinion  have  arisen  among  the 
friends  and  supportei-s  of  the  mi.ssions  of  the  American  Board  in  Lidia,  as  to 
the  best  mode  of  mis-ionary  labour  there,  especially  with  regard  to  the 
employment  of  the  mI::sion  funds  and  labours  in  the  schools.     These  topics, 


494  Short  Reviews  ajid  Notices  of  Books.  [July, 

and  many  others  of  importance,  are  considered  in  "  ///«/.■?  on  Missions  to  India, 
hj  Miuox  WiNSLOW."  (New-York:  M.  W.  Dodd;  185(5  ;  18rao.,  pp.  236.) 
Mr.  Winslow's  long  experience  in  tlie  missionary  field  entitles  liis  judgment  to 
great  respect,  and  liis  opinion,  thouixh  opposed  to  that  of  the  excellent  deputa- 
tion of  the  Board  that  has  recently  returned  l>om  India,  will  probably,  in  the 
end,  be  found  to  coincide  with  the  judgment  of  the  Church. 


(37.)  "  The  Suffa-inj  Saviour:  or,  Mcdikitions  on  the  Last  Days  of  Christ, 
by  F.  W.  Krummacher,  D.  D.,  translated  by  S.  Jackson."  (Boston:  Gould 
&  Lincoln;  1856;  Timo.,  pp.  474.)  The  glowing  eloquence  with  whlcTi 
Krummacher  treats  of  Scripture  history  for  devotional  and  practical  ends  is 
well  known  to  all  readers  of  his  "  Elisha  the  Tii^ihbite,"  and  other  works,  and 
who  has  not  read  them  ?  The  present  volume  opens  a  field  even  richer  than 
any  he  has  before  travelled,  in  the  inexhaustible  treasury  of  our  Saviours 
Bufferings. 

(38.)  '■'■  Expository  Lectures  on  the  Hook  of  Jonah,  hy  Thomas  Harding." 
(Loudon  :  A.  Ileylin  ;  1856  ;  ISmo.,  pp.  108.)  In  these  lectures,  Mr.  Harding 
makes  use  of  the  recent  researches  and  discoveries  of  Layard  and  others,  in 
illustrating  the  history  of  Jonah.  The  main  value  of  the  book,  however,  is  its 
practical  character. 

(39.)  "  The  Three  Gardens :  Eden,  Gethsemane,  and  Paradise,  by  William 
Adams,  D.  D."  (New- York :  C  Scribner ;  1856;  12mo.,  pp.  284.)  The 
object  of  this  volume  is  "  to  group  together,  in  the  simple  and  unpretending 
form  of  pastorly  address,  not  of  jihilosophical  analysis,  tlie  principal  facts 
which  compose  the  Christian  system."  In  the  "  Garden  of  Eden,"  we  find  the 
source  of  man's  ruin  :  "  iu  Gethsemane,"  the  source  of  his  redemption :  iu 
"  Paradise,"  the  scene  of  his  restoration.  These  are  treated  by  Dr.  Adams 
with  great  clearness,  both  of  conception  and  arrangement,  and  with  a  style  at 
once  perspicuous,  forcible,  and  impressive. 


(40.)  The  author  of  "  Friends  in  Council"  is  one  of  the  best  writers  of  En- 
glish in  tliis  generation.  Some  years  since  he  published  the  first  part  of  a 
work  entitled,  '•  The  Couiiuerors  of  the  New  World  and  their  Bondmou," 
(London:  1852;  -2voh.,)  intending  to  pursue  it  so  far  as  to  give  a  complete 
view  of  the  origin  of  American  slavery.  The  work  grew  upon  his  hands,  and 
has  finally  taken  the  shape  of  '•  The  Spanish  Conrjuest  in  America,  and  its 
Relation  to  the  Ilistonj  of  S/averi/  to  the  Government  of  Colonics,  by  Arthur 
Hklps."  (New- York  :  Harper  &  Brothers  ;  1856  ;  2  vols.,  12mo.)  The  work 
is  in  many  respects  an  original  one,  or,  at  all  events,  a  new  working  out  of 
the  sources  of  information.  Its  object  is  to  bring  before  the  reader,  not  con- 
quest only,  but  the  "  results  of  conquest,  the  mode  of  colonial  "ovcrnmcnt 
which  ultimately  prevailed,  the  extirpation  of  native  races,  the  introduction  of 
other  races,  the  growth  of  slavery,  and  the  settlement  of  the  cncomiendos,  on 
which  all  Indian  society  depended;"  and  on  these  topics  the  books  extant 
aiTord  but  little  real  information.    ^Ir.  Helps  has  wrought  up  his  material  with 


1S56.]  Short  Rcvieius  and  Notices  of  Books.  495 

unv/earled  diligence,  and  has  elaborated  it  with  unrivalled  skill.  His  pursuit 
of  the  history  of  slavery  leads  liiiu  to  track  the  fortunes  of  Columbus,  of  Cortez. 
of  Pizarro  ;  to  linger  in  the  court  of  Ilenvy  of  Portugal,  and  of  Isabella  of 
Spain;  to  follow  the  rover  on  tire  main,  and  the  diplomatist  in  the  cabinet;  but 
in  all  these  varied  paths  he  treads  with  the  assured  step  of  one  who  has  mas- 
tered all  the  intricacies  of  the  way.  There  have  been  many  valuable  cou- 
tributions  made  to  modern  history  of  late,  but  none  more  valuable  than  this. 


(41.)  "  History  of  Europe,  from  (he  Fall  0/  Napoleon  in  1815,  to  the  Accession  of 
''hriiis  i\'ajr!of!?wi.-'fn  1^52, by  Srr.  AitCHtBALD  Alison"."  ^^New-York  :  Har- 
per &  Brothers ;  1856  ;  2  vols.,  Svo.)  The  M-orld  has  already  taken  the  gauge  of 
Sir  A.  Alison's  capacity  as  a  historian.  With  vast  descriptive  power;  with  a 
sort  of  enthusiasm  of  style  that  resembles,  in  its  rapidity,  its  brilliancy, 
and  its  uuevenness,  a  quick  stream  coursing  in  the  sunlight  over  a  steep  and 
rocky  bed  ;  with  a  large  measure  of  industry ;  he  combines  an  utter  destitution 
of  high  literary-  taste,  an  absolute  want  of  the  philosophical  faculty,  and  aspiritof 
partisanship  that  renders  it  impossible  for  him  even  to  be  impartial.  Signallv 
as  these  qualities  were  displayed  in  his  former  works,  they  are,  if  possible, 
more  conspicuous  in  the  present.  Sir  Archibald  is  as  laborious,  as  dogmatical, 
as  inconsequent  as  ever.  Every  library  must  have  his  book  as  a  repertory  of 
facts,  and  even  as  an  index  of  opinions ;  but  no  reflecting  reader  will  ever 
peruse  ten  consecutive  pages  without  wonder  at  the  odd  v/ay  in  which  the 
author's  faculties  are  huddled  together,  and  at  the  singularly  Incongruous 
mi.xture  of  sense  and  stupidity,  of  liberality  and  conservatism  which  the 
volumes  otTer. 

(-12.)  "  T7ie  Rife  of  the  Dutch  licpuhUc.  a  History,  by  JoiixLothrop  Mot-  v' 
LEY."  (New- York:  Harper  fc  Brothers;  185G;3  vols.,  Svo.)  AVc  regard 
this  work  as  the  best  contribution  to  modern  history  that  has  yet  been  made 
by  an  American.  In  a  future  number  we  shall  give  it  an  extendi;d  review : 
in  the  mean  time,  we  hope  our  readers  will  not  wait  for^an  enlarged  criticism, 
but  take  our  word  for  it  at  present,  that  this  "  History"'  should  find  it.s  place 
upon  the  shelves  of  every  library,  public  and  private,  which  can  find  the  money 
to  purchase  It. 

(43.)  "Dr.  J.  C.  L.  Gieseler's  Dorpnatgeschichte  :  Giesekrs  History  of  Doc-  y/ 
trincs."  (Bonn:  ^Marcus ;  1855;  Svo.,  pp.  56G.)  This  posthumous  work 
forms  the  si.xth  and  last  volume  of  Gicseler's  Church  History,  of  which  tour 
have  been  translated.  As  a  history  of  Christian  doctrine,  however,  it  stands 
separate  and  apart  from  the  Church  History,  and  is  wnrtliy,  aa  well  from 
the  eminent  reputation  of  Dr.  Gieseler,  as  from  the  care  with  which  the 
editor,  Dr.  Redcpenning,  ha.s  done  his  work,  to  take  its  [)Iacc  with  the  besl 
works  of  its  chiss.  It  must  be  remembered,  hov.cvcr,  that  Dr.  Gioseler's 
stand-point  is  not  tliat  of  pure  orthodoxy;  and  although  the  professions  of  im- 
partiality made  in  the  preface  arc  doubtless  honest  enough,  it  would  be  better 
for  the  interests  of  sound  theologv*  if  the  writer  had  not  been  quite  so  indiffer- 
ent to  the  various  forms  of  Christian  doctrine.     The  arrangement  is  good.    The 


496  SJiort  Reviews  aiul  Notices  of  Books.  [July, 

entire  history  is  flivlded  into  tlneo  {-.criods :  I.  From  the  time  of  Christ  to  tliat 
of  Coii?tantIne,  (A.  D.  ^21.)  IE.  To  the  era  of  the  image  controversy,  (A.  D. 
72(J.)  III.  To  the  Kcfonnation,  (A.  D.  1517.)  Under  each  of  these  periofis 
we  have,  first,  a  general  view  of  tlie  history  of  doctrines  ;  secondly,  the  special 
history  of  individual  doctrines;  each  and  all  treated  M-ith  that  thorough  mastery 
of  the  sources,  and  that  clearness  and  precision  of  statement  that  characterize 
all  Dr.  Gieseler's  works.  When  sliall  v,-e  have,  in  English,  a  history  of 
doctiines  worthy  of  the  name  ? 


(44.)  '^  Lcarninr/ to  Think,'"  (New- York :  Harper  &  Brothers:  1856;  pp.  186.) 
is  the  second  of  Jacob  Abbott's  series  for  children,  entitled,  ••  The  Little 
Learner."  It  is  intended  to  be  read  to  young  children,  in  order  to  aid  the  de- 
velopment of  the  reasoning  faculty  by  easy  and  progressive  lessons. 


/  (45.)  "  The  Life  and  Traveh  of  Herodotus,  by  J.  Talboys  Wheelei;," 
(New- York:  Harper  &  Brothers;  185G  ;  2  vols.,  12mo.,)  is  an  imaginary 
biography,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  the  "  Travels  of  Anacharsls,"  illus- 
trating the  history,  religion,  and  social  life  of  the  principal  nations  of  antiquity, 
as  they  were  in  the  days  of  Pericles  and  Nehemiah.  Its  aim  is  to  give  the 
results  of  historical  research  and  criticism  in  a  form  likely  to  attract  general 
readers;  or,  as  the  author  expresses  it,  "to  clear  ancient  history  from  the 
dust  of  the  schools,  and  teach  it  in  the  shady  play-grounds  and  flower-gardens." 
Mr.  Wheeler's  thorough  scholarship  has  enabled  him  to  accomplish  a  perilous 
task  very  skilfully;  and  his  work  will  be  at  once  a  satisfaction  and  a  stimulus 
to  general  readers,  for  whom  he  has  worked  up.  Into  this  agreeable  form,  ma- 
terials gathered  from  many  a  bulky  tome. 


(4G.)  "  TliC  IL'Quenol  Exiles,"  (New-York:  Harper  &  l>rothers;  12mo.,  pp. 
453,)  is  a  story  covering  the  ground  of  the  Romish  persecutions  which  pre- 
ceded the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  It  is  well  conceived  and  vigor- 
ously written. 

(47.)  The  nineteenth  number  of  Harper's  "  Story  Books"  is  "  The  Engineer ; 
or,  How  to  Travel  in  the  Woods,  by  Jacob  Abbott,"  intended  to  show  boys 
how  hunters  and  emigrants  manage  in  the  wilderness.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  It  Is  full  of  interest:  the  verdict  of  "  Young  America  "has  fixed  the  repu- 
tation of  these  storv  books. 


(48.)  ^'  Missions  ni'fdtd  to  (he  Higher  Blessedness  of  the  Church,"  (New-York  : 
Carters ;  pp.  5i>,)  Is  a  discourse  delivered  by  Dr.  AV.  Pi.  Williams,  betbre  the 
Society  of  Inquiry  of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary.  It  Is  an  earnest  and 
eloquent  development  of  the  Idea  contained  In  the  title. 

(49.)  '■'The  Viriorij  n'on,"  (New-York:  Carters;  ISmo.,  pp.  106,)  is  a  touch- 
ing and  beautiful  account  of  the  conversion  of  a  sceptical  physician,  who,  by  a 
singular  train  of  Providences,  was  brought  within  the  reach  of  Christian  intlu- 
ences  on  his  dying  bed. 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Lif.eranj  Intelligence. 


497 


(50.)  "A  Critical  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Hchrcics,  by  Feancis 
S.  Sampson,  D.  D."  (New- York  :  K.  Carter  &  Brothers;  1856;  Svo.,  pp. 
475.)  Dr.  Sampson  Avas,  for  many  years,  Professor  of  Oriental  Literature  in 
the  Union  Theological  Seminary  of  Virginia,  and  obtained,  in  that  post,  a 
high  reputation  as  a  careful  and  thorough  expounder  of  the  Ncv/  Testament. 
His  labours,  for  many  years,  were  specially  devoted  to  the  Epistle  to  the  He- 
brews, and  this  volume  is  printed  from  tlie  m.anuscript  lectures  left  by  him  at 
his  denth.  It  is  carefully  edited  by  Dr.  Dabney,  who  has  made  his  work  a 
labour  of  love,  and  has  given  the  Church  a  commentary  of  rare  value.  We 
regret  that  our  space  will  not  allow  us  to  characterize  it  further. 


(51.)  "  The  Central  Idea  of  Cliristianity,  by  Jesse  T.  Pkck,  D.  D."  (Bos- 
ton: 11.  V.  Degen;  r2mo.,  pp.  3S9.)  The  doctrine  of  this  book  is,  that 
holiness  is  the  final  cause  of  Christianity,  and  its  aim  is  to  develop  that  doc- 
trine in  all  its  bearings  upon  individual  Christian  life,  and  upon  the  lite  of  the 
Church.  The  arrangement  of  the  book  is  clear  and  logical ;  its  style  is  at 
once  fervent  and  forcible  throughout.  We  shall  endeavour  to  return  to  this 
important  work  In  a  more  extended  notice  hereafter. 


Art.  IX.— KELIGIOUS  AXD  LITERARY  INTELLIGENCE. 


EELTGIOUS  STATE  OF  EIT.OPE. 

MAY,    1:^6  6. 

TEOTESTAXTISM. 

While  Eomanism  continues  a  bold,  and 
iu  m.my  cases  a  sueces^ful  strnrfric,  for 
recovering;  its  independence  from  the  tem- 
poral I'Dwer,  the  Church  o/ Ei<glmicl,v.hich 
should  he  the  strong;e-it  representative  of 
Protestant  interests,  makes  but  little  prog- 
ress iu  that  direction.  The  Convocation 
has  met  again  in  the  usual  way — a  farce 
laughed  at  by  High.  Low,  and  Eroad 
Churchmen.  What  must  be  the  feelings 
of  au  ardent  ruseyite.  in  c-inip,u-i!i-  an 
assembly  of  Eomau"  bishops,  like  th.it  of 
Vienna,  with  the  Anglican  Convocation  ? 
Still,  the  interest  of  "the  Church  iu  tlio 
Convocation  seems  to  be  on  the  increase, 
and  (greater  exertions  begin  to  be  made 
for  having  it  clothed  \vith  real  power. 
Some  hope  has  also  been  raised  in  the 
friends  of  an  independent  Church,  by  the 
resolution  of  the  government  to  concede 
full  liberty  of  synodic  action  to  the  colo- 
nial Church's.  In  the  n;ean  while,  Tarlia- 
ment  is  compelled,  as  usual,  to  occupy 
itself  with  a  number  of  bills  regulating 
Church  aliairs,  among  which  there  are 
twelve  against  the  prerogatives  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  uot  a  few  relat- 


ing to  matters  of  an  entirely  spiritual 
character,  such  as  motions  for  addresses 
to  the  queen  for  a  new  translation  of 
the  Bible ;  for  opening  the  churches  of 
the  Established  Church  for  the  practieo  of 
daily  service,  especially  with  a  vie^v  to 
encourage  a  feeling  of  devotion  nmong  the 
poorer  classes,  and  the  like.  With  refer- 
ence to  Divine  service,  it  seems  that  some 
of  the  bishops  are  rather  careless  in  yro 
viding  for  it,  as,  for  example,  the  Bishop  of 
Bangor,  who  has  denied  a  priest  of  his 
diocese  permission  to  hold  a  second  service 
on  !^unday.  Bv  the  appointment  of  the 
Hon.  H.  Montagu  Vilfieis  a  bi-.tlier  of 
Lord  Clarendon,  to  the  bishopric  nf  Car- 
lisle, the  Low  Church  side  of  the  epis- 
copal bench  has  received  a  strong  re- 
eiiforcomeut.  All  parties  call  him  a  pious, 
able,  and  laborious  preacher ;  but  the 
High  Churchmen  complain  tlu'.t  ho  has 
mixed  himself  frequently  ui>  with  Dissent- 
ers, and  is  an  extreme  Low  Churchman. 
The  "Churchman"  thinks  he  cannot 
congratulate  his  brethren  on  Villicrs's 
aoce?:.iou  to  the  cpisiv^pacy ;  and  the 
"Guardian"  s.ays  that  the  choice  is  in  no 
point  of  view  a  good  one. 

The  contc-;t  of  ]iarties  ip  the  Churcli 
continues.  For  the  Puseyitcs  the  now 
year    has    again    commenced    with    new 


498 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[July, 


suits  against  some  of  their  members ;  but 
Dr.  Pusey,  who  at  length  appears  again 
before  the  public  with  a  letter,  and  with 
tim  his  party,  declare  that  they  still 
adhere  to  those  principles  on  \vhich  the 
Tractarian  movement  ^vus  started.  Iligh 
aud  Low  Church  arc  for  a  moment  united 
in  charging  Prof.  Jowttt,  of  Oxford,  who 
belongs  to  the  Broad  Church  party,  with 
heresies  against  the  doctrine  of  atonement. 
])r.  Pusey,  Dr.  lleartUy,  and  the  lliilR.;. 
of  Oxford  himself,  have  preached  against 
him  ;  and  the  professor  has  been  summon- 
ed to  sign  again  the  Tliirty-nine  Articles, 
with  which  request  he  has,  contrary  to 
expectation,  complied. 

On  the  part  of  the  Low  Churchmen  it 
was  moved,  in  the  Convocation,  that  pro- 
posals be  made  to  the  Wesleyans  for  a 
union  with  the  Church.  Any  one  can 
easily  imagine  the  horror  of  Bishop  Phil- 
potts,  of  Exeter,  at  such  a  proposition. 
He  declared  "  that  he  regarded  the  prog- 
ress of  Wesleyanism  as  a  proof  of  the 
extreme  danger  of  the  sin  of  schism.  He 
did  not  think  it  a  becoming  course  for  the 
Church  to  go  begging  to  these  people. 
They  called  themselves  a  Church,  and 
thus  put  themselves  out  of  communion 
with  the  Church  of  England.  They  were 
ip.w  j'acto  excommunicated.  The  Church 
should  be  very  cautious  how  they  invited 
such  persons,  until  they  indicated  of  their 
own  accord,  a  sense  of  the  sin  of  schism 
in  which  they  had  hitherto  been  plunged." 
The  Wesleyans,  on  the  other  hand,  are  by 
no  meanswilling  to  submit  their ilouri!!hing 
community  again  to  the  deadening  inliu- 
ence  of  the  state.  A  consideration  of  such 
a  proposal,  at  the  ]!resent  juncture  of 
things,  would  lead  only  to  the  secession 
of  a  small  number  of  ministers  and  lay- 
men from  the  "Wesleyau  denomiuaticu. 
Their  orgaji,  the  Watchman,  declares  un- 
equivocally against  the  scheme  imt  forth, 
"Some  of  us,"  it  s:iys,  "look  forward  to 
the  day  when  there  will  be  a  real  union 
of  all  the  branches  of  the  Orthodox 
Church  ;  and  for  so  happy  an  event,  who 
knows  but  that  ^lethodism,  the  friend  of 
all,  the  enemy  of  none,  may  be  privileged 
to  otfer  her  spacious  field '.'  Only  we  can- 
not but  think  that  those  err  grievously 
who  imagine  such  an  arrangement  is  to 
he  brought  about  by  the  absorption  of  one 
preat  denomination  into  another."  The 
AVesleyans  are,  at  the  present  moment,  so 
much  the  less  dosirous  of  u  uuiou  with 
the  Stato  Church  of  England,  as  their 
labours  also  during  the  past  year  have 
keen  most  prosperous.  The  ^lissionary 
Society  reports,  for  the  year  1?55,  au  iu- 


come  amounting  to  £119,000,  which  sur- 
passes considerably  that  of  any  former 
year,  and  exceeds  by  £S.OOU  that  of  1S54. 

Among  the  laudable  labours  of  the  Es- 
tablished Church,  we  should  not  forget  to 
record  the  zeal  displaytd  for  propagating 
Christianity  and  their  Church  in  foreign 
lauds.  A  number  of  colonial  Church-" 
es  are  growing  up  around  the  Moth- 
er Church,  increasing  her  numerical 
strength,  and  perliaiis  they  will  sorn  be 
able  to  loud  a  baud  for  recovering  a 
greater  liberty  for  the  Mother  Church 
herself.  Thus',  the  Society  for  Prcruotiug 
Christian  Knowledge  has  resolved  to  pro- 
cure an  increase  of  the  episcDjate  in 
India,  and  large  funds  have  beeu  collected 
for  the  erection  of  an  Anglican  Church  in 
Constantinople.  With  reference  to  the 
missions  in  the  East,  however,  the  High 
Church  party  repeats  its  protests  against 
receiving  into  the  communion  of  the 
Anglican  Church  any  converts  from  the 
Oriental  Churches — these  Churches  being, 
although  corrupt,  yet  true  and  valid 
Churches. 

In  political  questions  we  see  the  great 
mass  of  the  Church  of  England  fight  many 
a  battle  together  with  the  Dissenters, 
against  common  foes.  Thus  a  deputation, 
consisting  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterburj- 
and  representatives  of  all  the  great  evan- 
gelical bodies  of  the  country,  waited  upon 
Lord  Palmerston  to  convey  their  \ lews  re- 
Ejiccting  the  motion  of  Sir  Joshua  Walms- 
ley,  for  throwing  open  on  Sunday  the 
public  museums  and  galleries  of  art.  By 
common  exertion,  this  motion  was  a  few- 
days  afterward  defeated  in  Parliament, 
by  throe  hundred  and  seventy-six  votes 
against  forty-eight.  Another  common 
triumph  they  succeeded  in  obtaining, 
notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  the 
ministry — a  majority  for  the  first  reading 
of  Mr.  Spooner's  bill  for  abolishing  the 
rtl.iyiio  .ih  endov.  nicnt. 

In  (jtinuiiit/,  the  question  of  the  day  is 
Union  or  Xo  Union.  Tlie  United  Evangel- 
ical Church  has  been  lately  strengthened 
in  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  and  the 
Rhine  province  of  Bavaria.  In  all  other 
jiarts  of  Germany,  esjiecially  in  Prussia, 
things  look  as  if  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union  was  near  at  hand.  Among  the 
people  the  Union  has  never  been  very 
popular,  in  particular  among  the  Luther- 
ans ;  now  iilso  among  the  clergy  the 
number  of  those  who  believe  in  and  aim 
at  blending  together  the  doctrinal  sysiems 
of  the  Lutheran  and  German  lleformed 
Cliurches,  becomes  smaller  every  year.  In 
the  upper  Ecclesiastical  Board  of  Itussia, 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


499 


there  is  only  one  memter  declaring  him- 
eelf  in  tliis  sense,  all  otliers  jn-ofessing  to 
be  Lutheran  or  P.efornied ;  in  sevenil 
provinces,  especially  in  I'oincrania,  most 
of  the  new  superintendents  are  men  of 
decided  Lutheran  tendencies ;  separate 
Ecckiiastical  Boards  have,  in  several  in- 
stances, been  erected,  instead  of  the  former 
common  one ;  and,  at  length,  even  the 
Reformed  Church,  which  was  formerly 
unaiiiiuous  in  [romotiiig  the  Union,  he- 
gins  to  take  measures  for  a  denomina- 
tional reorganization.  The  entire  dissolu- 
tion can  hardly  be  far  oft'.  It  will  for 
some  time  weaken  the  cause  of  Protes- 
tantism in  Germany,  for  the  Evangelical 
United  Church  is  at  present  the  most 
numerous  of  the  Prote-taut  denomina- 
tions, aud  many  of  the  best  German 
Protestants  belong  to  it.  The  final  re- 
sults, however,  can  be  only  good.  With 
the  downfall  of  the  I'nion,  the  influence  of 
the  state  in  the  government  of  the  Church 
receives  a  blow  from  which  it  will  find  it 
bard  to  recover. 

The  more  rapidly  the  Union  is  weaken- 
ed, the  sooner  the  Lutheran  Church  will 
reorganize.  And  it  will  be  reorganized 
not  only  in  over  thirty  ditierent  Lutheran 
State  Churches,  but  as  one  German  Lu- 
theran Church.  German  Protestants  feel 
the  necessity,  aud  see  the  advantage,  of 
association,  and  the  governrmiits  will  not 
dare  to  check  this  national  movement. 
Already  delegates  of  the  ditierent  Churches 
meet  frequently  in  general  conferences,  to 
discuss  the  means  of  obtaining  greater 
uniformity  in  administrative  and  liturgical 
matters.  But  lately,  delegates  of  the 
State  Churches  of  Bavaria,  Saxony,  Meck- 
lenburg, and  several  other  states,  held 
another  conference  of  this  kind.  One 
Lutheran  missionary  society  receives  the 
coutributions  from  all  parts  of  Germany, 
and  the  Lutherans  in  other  European 
countries,  such  as  Sweden,  I»enniark, 
Holland,  and  France,  meet  their  German 
brethren  frequently  in  common  delibera- 
tions. The  further  development  of  the 
Lutheran  Church  is  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance to  Europe,  for  of  all  the  branches  of 
European  Protestantisn'  it  is  the  most 
numerous.  Reconstructed  in  Germany  on 
a  national  basis,  it  will  jirobably  be  entirely 
free  from  P.atioaalism  ;  but  another  dissen- 
sion has  taken  root  in  it,  whose  end  no  one 
can  foresee.  The  p.irty  is  now  divided  into 
Old  and  New  Lutherans;  the  former  re- 
tuniing  to  the  Luf heranism  of  the  IGth 
century  ;  the  other  [.reiendiug  to  develop 
«ome  particular  points,  which,  they  say, 
Luther   has    not  defined    with    sufficient 


precision.  The  most  important  of  these 
points  is  the  question  of  the  otCce  of  the 
Christian  ministry  a;jd  its  relation  to  the 
laity.  In  attempting  to  settle  this  contro- 
versial point, many  prominent  Xew  Luther- 
ans are  accused  by  their  ojjponents  of  hav- 
ing come  to  views  very  nearly  coincident 
with  those  of  the  Itoman  Church.  Professor 
Gucrieke,  of  Ilallc,  the  Uld  Lutheran  editor 
of  the  Lutheran  Quarterlv,  finds  fault  with 
I»r.  Loehe.  of  B.v.aria.  and  Dr.  IVtri.  of 
Hanover,  two  leaders  of  the  New  Luther- 
ans, for  leaving  out  of  Luther's  well-known 
prayer  against  the  pope  and  Muhummed, 
the  name  ol'  the  pope  ;  and  with  lir.  Klie- 
foth,  the  most  influential  man  among  the 
Lutherans  of  Mecklenburg,  fir  conniving 
at  this  omission.  Another  prominent 
New  Lutheran,  Dr.  Vilmar,  a  man  of  great 
literary  merit,  but  also  with  tendencies 
toward  Romanism,  had  lately  been  elected 
superintendent-general  of  the  Electorate 
of  Iltsse,  but  the  Elector  has  aimuUod  the 
election,  although  Vilmar  had  received 
one  hundred  and  ten  out  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty-four  votes.  In  Germany,  as 
in  p:ngland,  such  Romanizing  views  are 
almost  exclusively  found  among  theologi- 
ans, and  a  very  few  of  the  laity.  Wher- 
ever the  minds  of  the  people  are  drawn 
into  a  religious  movement,  it  is  in  the 
other  direction,  towafd  what  they  call  in 
Germany  "  Pietism,"  which  is  for  the 
German  Church,  to  a  certain  extent,  what 
Vt'esley's  reformation  was  for  the  Church 
of  England. 

Sirrdcn  becomes  more  and  more  inter- 
esting to  the  Protestant  Christian,  on 
account  of  the  extensive  awakenings  to 
religious  life,  brought  about  by  the  Meth- 
odist and  Baptist  Missions.  The  mission 
of  the  Wesleyan  Missionary  Society  of 
P^ngland,  which  was  commenced  about 
twenty  years  ago,  has  sought  and  attained 
not  so  much  denominational  extension,  as 
the  infusion  of  an  evan_'t!icril  -j  iiit  in  the 
State  Church.  Its  labours  ha\e.been  so 
blessed  that  the  missionaries  ccmtidently 
assert  that  the  present  time  has  no  par- 
allel in  the  past  history  of  Saeden.  This 
religious  luovement  h.as  becu  effectually 
promoted  by  the  "Pietist,"  a  paper  begun 
in  lsi-2,  by  the  Rev.  (ieorge  .Seott,  who, 
during  twelve  year*,  wa.s  an  exemplary 
missionary  of  the  Engli.-.h  Wesleyaiis  in 
Sweden.  It  has  now  eight  thousand  sub- 
scribers, while  tlie  most  po[,ular  secular 
paiier  does  not  reach  a  circulation  of  five 
thousand.  The  Bajitists  have  been  success- 
ful also  in  extending  their  denomination, 
and  report  for  the  last  year  an  addition 
of  about  four  hundred  members.     At  the 


500 


,ReUgiaus  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[July, 


beginning  of  this  year,  they  were  divided 
into  seven  congrugations.  They  are  openly 
at  work,  and  are,  as  yet,  little  molested 
by  the  government.  One  of  the  leading 
secular  papers,  the  "Aftonblad,"  seems  to 
take  a  particular  interest  iu  their  cause, 
and  stron;rly  recommends  their  rew  or^an, 
"The  Evaiig-elist."  The  State  Church 
party,  as  ruight  be  expected,  is  not  a  little 
aroused  by  such  auti-state-churcli  move- 
ment';. Thoy  h':ive  ficnlly  Loccine  aw;irc 
that  something  must  be  done.  In  Noncatf, 
the  government  has  appointed  a  commit- 
tee of  four  cler-ymeu  and  four  laymen, 
•with  a  bishop  as  president,  to  examine 
into  the  condition  of  the  Church,  and  to 
make  such  proposals  for  alterations  as 
they  shall  think  proper.  In  Sweden,  T)r. 
Keuterdahl  has  been  appointed  Archbishop 
of  Upsala  and  Primate  of  the  Swedish 
Church — a  man  who  is  known  to  be  op- 
posed to  the  abolition  of  any  privilege  of 
the  State  Church,  and  to  muking  any  con- 
cessions to  the  other  denominatioas.  He 
is  also  an  intimate  friend  of  the  royal 
prince  of  Sweden,  and,  as  far  as  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  rulers  of  the  land  are 
concerned,  but  little  can  bo,  therefore, 
expected  for  the  cause  of  religious  free- 
dom. 

In  Franrf,  S^mln,  and  Ttali;,  Protestant- 
ism has  had  again  to  suffer  persecution 
from  the  Roman  Church.  Greater  liberty 
than  before  has  been  granted  to  it  in 
Kmsia,  and  it  is  rumoured  that,  iu  short, 
the  Lutheran  Church  will  be  placed  on  an 
entirely  equal  footing  vith  the  Greek 
Church. 

E0MA2;iSM. 

In  the  empire  of  the  pope,  nothing  has 
occurred  within  these  last  three  mouths 
that  equals  in  importance  the  further  de- 
velopment of  the  Amstrian  Concordat.  All 
parties  begin  to  see  that  extraordinary 
proiains  are  made  in  it  to  the  Churcli  of 
Rcuie,  that  extraordinary  means  are  placed 
at  her  disposal,  and  that  extraordinary 
prospects  are  open  to  her  if  she  is  able  to 
make  use  of  the  favourable  op[iortunity. 

It  is  now  the  prevailing  Opinion  in 
Europe  that  the  Concordat  originated  both 
in  the  Roraanistio  sentiments  of  the  young 
emperor,  and  iu  the  desire  of  the  leading 
Austrian  statesmen  to  have  a  powerful 
auxiliary  iu  reorganizing  the  Austrian 
empire  on  a  stronger  basis  than  hereto- 
fore. However  this  may  be,  no  doubt  can 
exist  .as  to  the  present  subraissiveness  of 
Austria  to  Rome,  and  the  sincerity  of  her 
wish  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  tlie 
CLnrch  and  the  ultramontane  party.    The 


pope,  the  bishops,  and  the  Roman  Catholic 
press  have  subjected  the  government  to 
many  a  hard  proof,  and  the  government 
has  yielded  in  almost  every  point.  In  the 
Italian  jiart  of  the  empire,  the  Archbishop 
of  ^'enicc  tells  the  i,'ovcrnmcnt,  in  his 
pa-toral  letter,  that  a  C-itholio  prince  mav, 
from  politieal  reasons,  tolerate  a  heretical 
worship,  but  is  never  allowed  to  protect 
and  further  it.  When  the  Minister  of  Pub- 
lie  Worship,  Count  Thun,  convoked,  by  a 
circular  of  January  2o,  all  iho  bishops  of 
the  empire  to  a  council  in  Vienna,  and 
appointtd  the  Archbishop  of  Vienna  pres- 
ident tlioreof,  the  papal  nuncio,  Cardinal 
Viale  Prela,  disregarding  entirely  the  offi- 
cial announcement  of  the  government, 
informed  the  bishops  that  he  would  pre- 
side over  them  in  the  name  of  the  pope. 
The  whole  ministry  were  indignant  at 
this  procedure  ;  remonstrances  were  made 
at  Rome ;  Mr.  Bruck,  the  (Protestant) 
Minister  of  Finance,  who  saved  Austria 
from  a  bankruptcy,  threatened  to  resign  ; 
yet,  after  all,  the  concession  was  made 
that  the  nuncio  should  preside  whenever 
he  wished  to  be  present  in  the  Assembly 
in  order  to  make  communications  on  the 
part  of  the  pope,  while  only  when  affairs 
exclusively  relating  to  the  internal  condi- 
tion of  .\.ujtria  would  come  up,  the  Arch- 
bishops of  Vienna,  Prague,  and  Gran  were 
to  preside  alternately,  in  the  name  of  the 
emperor.  The  bishops  of  Italy  demanded 
the  immediate  restoration  to  ecclesiastical 
purposes  of  all  buildings  which  formerly 
belonged  to  the  Church,  and  the  govern- 
ment is  on  the  point  of  granting  it,  the 
Archbishop  of  Vienna  having  already  re- 
ceived a  building,  hitherto  used  by  the 
city  of  Vienna  as  a  house  of  correction, 
for  establishing  a  sfiniiiariii.iit  pucrorum. 
All  the  houses  of  correction  in  the  empire 
will  be  placed  under  the  charge  of  the 
religious  orders  ;  the  press  is  repeatedly 
warn.d  r..t  to  pubHsh  anv  .article  against 
the  Concordat ;  the  fasting-command  is 
rigidly  enforced  iu  the  army ;  the  mem- 
bers of  the  imperial  family  vie  in  patron- 
izing all  collections  for  religious  purposes, 
and  not  r.arely  appear  as  ])ilgrims  at  one 
of  the  numerous  places  of  pilgrimage  in 
the  empire.  Other  great  promises  are 
held  out  to  the  Church  in  case  the  ultra- 
montane party  will  abstain  from  disturbing 
the  good  understanding  between  the  pope 
and  tho  emperor.  The  bisliops  shall  re- 
ceive the  ri,-ht  of  superintendence  of  the 
universities  in  their  dioceses,  or,  where 
this  is  not  practicable,  at  least  a  particu- 
lar inllucnce  on  the  theological  faculty. 
They  are  to  have  the  right  of  founding  a 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


601 


free  Catholic  nniversitj,  vhich  shall  be 
exclusively  iniilcr  the  management  of  the 
Church  ;  and  the  University  of  Pesth,  in 
Hungiiry,  ^vhich  was  originally  founded  by 
the  Church,  is  to  have  its  Catholic  charac- 
ter restored,  tlr:  c;ovcrunient  pledging  itself 
to  3p[ioint  only  Catholic  professors  to  it. 
In  all  the  universities  of  the  empire,  the 
canonical  law  is  to  be  taught  by  such 
professors  only  on  the  soundi?es3  of  whose 
doctrine  and  teaching  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese  has  been  heard.  ZSotwithstanding 
all  this,  the  ultramontane  party  is  not  yet 
satisfied.  It  seems,  on  the  contrary,  that, 
faithful  to  the  traditions  of  their  C'hnreh, 
their  demands  become  the  more  importu- 
nate the  more  favours  they  receive.  An 
organ  of  the  party  in  Vienna,  the  Oostre- 
ische  Yolkfreund,  accused  three  Catholic 
members  of  the  ministry  of  having  scan- 
dalized the  faithful  by  publicly  breaking 
the  fasting-command  of  the  Church;  the 
"  Civilta  Cattc  lica"  in  Kome,  the  pet  of  the 
pope,  finds  that  some  of  the  official  Austri- 
an papers,  as  those  of  Milan  and  Venice, 
are  not  tetter  than  those  of  Sardinia ; 
great  dissatisf.i.etion  with  the  government 
is  expressed  for  having  supjiressed  an 
nltra-Catholio  year-book  of  the  School 
Counsellor,  Dr.  Jarisch,  and  for  having 
brought  suit  against  the  author  for  of- 
fending other  religious  denoniinations  of 
the  state  ;  and  the  ministry  is  made  re- 
sponsible for  all  the  un-Catholic  opinions 
of  professi.Ts  in  the  state  universities, 
expressed  in  their  works  or  lectures. 

However,  the  advantages  which  must 
accrue  to  the  Church  from  the  further 
support  of  the  state,  are  too  obvious  not 
to  warn  the  heads  of  the  Church  and  the 
Church  party  to  be  cautious.  Already  the 
periodical  press  in  the  service  of  the 
Cliurcji  has  been  at  least  quadrupled  since 
1848;  a  large  number  of  Catholic  celeb- 
rities have  been  called  from  other  German 
States  to  .\;;s;rian  institutions;  an  Acad- 
emy of  Sciences  has  been  established, 
■which,  as  long  as  the  union  between 
Church  and  State  prevails,  will  preserve  a 
predominant  Roman  Catholic  character. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  transac- 
tions of  the  Council  of  the  eighty-three 
Austrian  archbishops  and  bishops,  which 
■was  opened  in  Vienna  on  April  0th,  with  all 
the  pt'mp  -which  the  Roman  Church  can 
command  on  such  occasions,  cannot  fail 
to  be  of  the  gnatcst  consequence  for  the 
future  Church  history  of  Austria.  The 
nuncio  ofliciuted  in  the  religious  services, 
and  presided  over  the  proceedings  of  the 
first  day.  Ti.e  emperor  assured  the  bishops 
auew    of    his    coufideuce    in    them,   and 


desired    them     to    have    confidence    in 
him. 

In  the  mean  w  bile,  tlic  xdtramontanc  party 
of  all  Europe  are  turning  their  looks  to- 
ward Austria.  If  not  yet  satisfied  with 
the  policy  of  the  present  ministry,  they 
still  expect  much  from  the  emperor  and 
the  imperial  family  in  general.  There- 
fore, we  see  them  busy  every^^here  in 
strengthening  the  infUience  of  Austria. 
And  the  ultramontane  party  is  already  a 
political  ally  of  some  importance.  Twenty- 
five  years  ago,  its  principles  were  only 
preached  by  single  authors,  such  as  De 
Maistre,  P.onald,  Lamennais,  and  Gocrres, 
and  proclaimed  in  the  European  legisla- 
tures only  by  the  solitary  voice  of  Count 
Montalembert.  Now,  they  have  organized 
themselves  in  almost  every  state  of  Eu- 
rope ;  assume  openly,  unlike  their  breth- 
ren in  the  United  States,  the  name  of  a 
Catholic  party  or  Catholic  faction,  and 
bargain  with  the  other  political  parties  in 
order  to  gain  advantages  for  the  Church. 
They  strive  to  enlarge  the  intluence  of  the 
Church  on  modern  European  society,  par- 
ticularly with  regard  to  church  projierty, 
church  discipline,  and  education.  As  to 
the  property  of  the  Church,  they  have,  in 
several  states,  to  struggle  with  the  state 
for  the  undisturbed  possession  of  the 
enormous '  wealth  accumulated  in  the 
hands  of  the  Church,  as  in  Spain  and 
Sardinia  ;  or  they  claim  an  entirely  inde- 
pendoniadruinistraticn  of  church  property, 
as  in  the  United  States,  without  regard  to 
the  laws  of  the  country,  and  thus  forming 
a  state  within  a  state,  as  in  Austria,  Hol- 
land, and  several  states  of  Germany  ;  or 
they  exert  themselves  to  ha\e  the  yearly 
support  which  the  Church  receives  in  re- 
turn for  the  property  confiscated,  invested 
in  landed  estate,  as  in  France  and  Prussia. 
In  matters  of  church  discipline  they  not 
only  demand  (in  which  they  are  perfectly 
right"  tl.at  the  state  govcrnici  lit  ,-liall  not 
interfere  in  the  spiritual  relati.>n  uf  the 
bishops  and  the  pope  to  the  clergy  and 
laity  of  the  Church  ;  but  also,  where  they 
are 'powerful  enough  to  do  it,  the  transfer 
of  the  whole  legislation  on  marriage  affairs 
to  the  courts  of  the  Church.  Another 
aim  of  the  party  is  still  kept  secret, 
becau.5e  public  opinion,  even  in  Koman 
Catholic  States,  is  not  yet  prepared  to  see 
it  brought  forward.  It  is  the  restoring  of 
a  deeii^ixe  iutlueiicc  of  the  Church,  as  the 
guardian  of  public  morals,  on  the  jiress, 
and  making  it  the  duty  of  a  Cathidic  state 
to  lend  the  secular  arm  to  ctiforce  the 
judgments  of  the  Church.  We  are  in- 
debted to  the  Archbishop  of  Venice,  and 


502 


Rel 


ligious  and  Literary  I ntdlige 


nee. 


[July, 


other  Austrian  bishops,  for  indicating  in 
clear,  unmistakable  words,  what  their 
confederates  in  other  countries  dare  only 
disgui.sedly  to  hint  at.  On  the  educational 
question,  they  think  likewise  that  the 
time  has  not  vet  come  to  demand  the  en- 
forcing' of  their  princijiles,  according  to 
which  tducatiou  is  a  matter  on  which  the 
state  has  no  right  to  legislate;  but  con- 
tent themselves  at  present  with  making 
the  compromises  concluded  with  the  states 
as  favourable  to  the  interests  of  the  Church 
as  possible. 

Also  iu  France,  the  government  contin- 
ues to  court  the  friendsliip  of  the  pope 
and  the  Church.  The  pope  has  beeu  in- 
vited to  become  the  godfather  of  the  new- 
born prince;  and  in  his  name  Cardinal 
Patrizzi,  the  vicar-general  of  the  pope,  will 
go  as  papal  legate,  (Irgatus  a  latere,}  with  two 
archbishops  and  a  large  retinue,  to  Paris, 
to  surround  the  baptism  of  the  heir  to  the 
French  throne  with  all  the  lustre  that  the 
Church  can  display.  Moreover,  it  seems 
that  the  poi)e  has  already  promised  to  ele- 
vate the  emperor's  cousin.  Prince  Lucieu 
liouaparte,  a  young  man  tv.enty-seven 
years  of  age,  during  the  current  year  to 
the  dignity  of  a  cardinal.  On  the  other 
hand,  almost  all  the  official  papers  of  the 
government  have  published  articles  sym- 
pathizing with  the  measures  of  the  Sar- 
dinian government;  a  duplicity  which 
puzzles  the  ultramontane  party  not  a  lit- 
tle, although  it  suits  well  the  emperor's 
past  career.  The  union  of  the  Orleanists 
and  Legitiuiists  into  one  royalist  party, 
can  but  promote  the  inrluenoe  of  ultra- 
montanisni,  for  the  elder  branch  of  the 
Bourbons,  in  whose  iiiterest  this  union 
has  been  made,  has  always  considered  the 
at  least  nominal  patronage  of  the  National 
Church  of  France  a  part  of  their  political 
creed.  And  if  at  present  each  party,  the 
imperial  and  the  royalist,  strives  to  insin- 
uate its--'If  into  the  "favour  of  the  Church, 
whatjuncture  in  the  puHiii:al  \vorld  could 
be  more  favourable  to  the  latter?  One 
fruit  of  this  spreading  subservience  to  the 
Church,  we  tind  in  the  many  succes-rcs  of 
the  ultramontane  party  at  new  elections 
to  the  French  Academy.  Formerly  almost 
excluded  from  this  first  literary  institution 
of  the  land,  it  has,  within  a  few  years, 
seen  three  of  its  leaders,  Count  llunt- 
ftlembert,  P.ishop  Dupanloup,  of  Orleans, 
and  lately  Ex-Minister  Falloux,  received 
into  it.  And  must  it  not  appear  natural 
for  the  Roman  Church  to  cherish  the  most 
extravagant  hopes  for  her  future  in  France, 
■when  a  Protestant  historian,  like  Guizot, 
says,  in  the  preface  to  the  new  edition  of 


his  History  of  Civilization  in  Europe,  "  I 
am  persuaded  that  for  her  moral  and  social 
salvation,  France  must  become  Christian 
again ;  and  that  in  becoming  Christian 
again  she  will  remain  Catholic.  1  could 
not  forgive  myself  if  I  were  to  do  anything 
which  could  impede  her  progress  iu  that 
way." 

Iu  all  the  Gcrtnan  States  the  self-styled 
Catholic  Party  is  unfolding  its  banner 
with  great  boldness,  leaning  on  Austria, 
supported,  sometimes  openly,  but  ofiener 
secretly,  by  Austria,  and  working  for 
bringing  about  a  closer  political  union 
of  the  whole  of  Germany,  under  the  pres- 
idency of  Austria.  Nowhere  has  this 
party  a  better  organization  and  a  more 
advantageous  battle-field  than  in  Prussia. 
Their  opponents,  the  absolutistic  party, 
which  has  at  present  a  majority  in  both 
houses  of  the  Parliament,  are  themselves 
pursuing  the  phantom  of  a  sectarian  state, 
where  the  enjoyment  of  full  jiolitical  rights 
shall  be  made  dependent  on  membership 
in  one  of  the  state  Churches  ;  and  are 
thus  Certainly,  although  unconsciously, 
beatingapath  for  Romanism.  Theirallies, 
on  the  contrary,  the  constitutional  party, 
are  backed  by  a  majority  of  the  jTess, 
and  probably  also  by  the  people  ;  and  as 
the  ultramontanes  form,  iu  the  Chamber 
of  Representatives,  almost  one  half  of 
the  entire  oi>position,  their  movements 
and  motions  meet  now  frequently  with 
support,  where,  a  few  years  ago,  they 
would  have  called  forth  the  greatest 
alarm.  The  ultramontane  party  itself 
'has  talented  leaders,  and  displays  more 
activity  than  any  of  the  othtr  parties. 
They  have  been  very  active  during  the 
present  session  of  the  Prussian  Parliament. 
Among  many  other  motions,  they  have 
moved  that  a  Catholic  University' be  es- 
tablished for  the  Prussian  Catholics ;  that 
the  number  of  Catholic  colleges  be  in- 
creased ;  that  church  property  confiscated 
in  femur  times  bo  restored  to  the  Church; 
and  that  all  marriage  atlairs  between 
Catholics  be  transferred  to  the  resiort  of 
the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  of  the  Church. 
Although,  in  almost  all  these  cases,  they 
have  not  been  able  to  carry  the  vote  of 
the  Assembly,  yet  they  indirectly  prevail 
upou  the  government  to  nuike  some  new 
concessions  to  the  Church  every  year. 

Also,  iu  the  other  German  parliaments, 
ritraniontaniim  has  sonie  able  and  iurtucn- 
tial  advocates.  Thus,  we  tind  that  in  the 
Protestant  kingdom  of  Hanover,  one  of 
their  number,  Ex-Minister  Windhorst,  is 
present.  (1  to  the  king  as  one  of  thre« 
candidates  for  the  vice-presidency  of  the 


1856.] 


Religious  and  Literary  Infelligence. 


hOi 


House  of  Representatives  ;  and  that  in  the 
rrotestarit  kin^Joia  of  AVurtemburs',  a 
professor  of  C.'.tholic  theoloi,'}-,  Dr.  Kulni, 
Is  with  great  unanin;ity  elected,  by  both 
houses  of  the  legislature,  as  the  tirst  of 
the  two  members  which  the  rarliament 
Las  to  choo?e  for  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Justice  of  the  state. 

In  Dchjinm,  the  ultramoutane  party  has 
still  the  control  of  public  aflairs,  although 
it  has  lately  been  sijnally  defeated  in  a 
contest  «ith  one  of  the  ttate  Universities. 
Professor  Brasseur,  of  the  State  University 
of  Ghent,  bad  made  the  Austrian  Con- 
cordat a  subject  of  severe  ceusure,  and 
praised  the  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth 
ceutury  as  a  liberation  of  the  human  mind 
from  ecclesiastical  tyranny.  Ou  this  ac- 
count, the  leaders  of  the  party  demanded 
from  the  ministry  his  removal.  The  min- 
istry, however,  although  all  its  members 
belong  to  the  Catholic  party,  refused,  by 
a  majority  of  three  ajaiust  two,  to  comply 
with  this  request,  which  decision  met 
with  the  approval  of  the  Parliament. 
IS'othing  is  left  to  the  bishops  but  to 
warn  the  parents  in  their  dioceses  not  to 
send  their  sons  any  more  to  Ghent,  but  to 
tlie  Catholic  University  of  Louvaiu.  This 
latter  university  still  exceeds,  iu  number 
of  students,  the  Liberal  (anti-Catholic) 
University  of  Brnssels,  as  well  as  either 
of  the  State  Universities  of  Ghent  and 
Liege.  But  already  the  old  quarrel  be- 
tween the  University  of  Louvain  and  the 
Jesuits  breaks  out  again,  and  threatens 
the  future  of  the  Roman  Church  in  Bel- 
gium. 

Li  Iiahj,  the  pope  attempts  once  more 
some  reformatory  measures,  although 
timidly,  and  with  extreme  precaution. 
He  has  drawn  one  German  and  one 
French  bishop  to  Rome  as  resident  cardi- 
nals, and  intimated  his  intention  to  have, 
in  future,  all  the  leading  Catholic  nation- 
alities (jf  Rurop*'  represented  in  tliis  way 
in  the  higheit  council  of  tlie  Church.  Be- 
sides this,  he  is  intent  upon  a  reformation 
of  the  many  orders  of  monks — a  measure 
very  much  needed  indeed  in  several  coun- 
tries of  Europe,  especially  in  Austria  and 
Italy,  where,  even  according  to  Catholic 
reports,  gross  immorality  and  incredible 
ignorance  are  found  to  an  alarming  extent. 
The  pope  tnds  suitable  tools  for  tiiis  plan 
in  France,  where,  by  the  exertions  of 
Lacordaire,  Pwivi.:na!i,  and  other  celebrated 
names,  monastic  aii'airs  seem  to  be  in  a 
flourishing  condition.  Colonies  of  French 
monks  are  frequently  transplanted  to  Italy, 
eveu  to  the  States  of  the  Church.  One  of 
the  most  numerous  Orders,  the  Dominic- 


an, has  already  been  obliged  to  receive 
from  the  hands  of  the  pope  a  French  gen- 
eral ;  and  during  May,  it  was  the  intention 
of  the  pope  to  preside  himself  at  the  gen- 
eral conference  of  the  Franciscan  monks, 
and  enforce,  if  necessary,  reformatory  de- 
crees by  his  own  authority. 

In  Sardinlti,  government  and  people 
continue  to  act  with  a  noble  independence. 
Bishops,  monks,  and  nuns  are  fearlessly 
placed  on  an  equal  footing  with  all  other 
individuals,  and  impartially  punished,  if 
they  attempt  to  infringe  upon  the  laws  of 
the  country.  A  number  of  towns  have 
taken  their  schools  out  of  the  haiuls  of  the 
clergy ;  and  tlie  refusal  of  the  clergy  to 
shrive  such  of  their  parishioners  as  liad  a 
part  in  the  procedure  of  the  State  against 
the  Church,  increases  the  conversions  to 
Protestantism  in  an  ever-increasing  ratio. 

In  Sjjain,  the  government  is  still  at 
variance  with  Rome.  The  sale  of  the 
church  property  is  carried  through  ;  bish- 
ops and  priests  who  stir  up  the  i.c-.ple  are 
subjected  to  severe  punishment;  and  the 
refractory  town-councils  of  the  province  of 
Biscaya,  who  resigned  in  order  to  escape 
the  threatened  censures  of  the  Church,  are 
fined  and  forced  to  obey.  Still,  by  organs 
of  the  Catholic  party,  a  new  cou)promise 
with  Rome  is  announced  as  near  at  hand. 

Nowhere  is  the  power  of  Rcmanisui  at 
present  more  paralyzed  than  in  Ireland. 
Frederick  Lucas  is  dead  ;  Duft'y  is  gone  to 
Australia ;  Keogh,  iu  whom,  seme  years 
ago,  the  ultramontane  party  discovered 
another  rising  (('Connell,  has  considerably 
changed  his  views  since  he  has  been  ap- 
pointed the  Right  Hon.  Attorney-Gciicral 
for  Ireland,  and  lately  Judge  of  the  Irish 
Bench  ;  the  number  of  sound  Roniauists 
in  the  Parliament  has,  according  to  the 
"Tablet,"  dwindled  down  to  less  than  a 
dozen  ;  the  bishops  have  severed  the  in- 
terests of  the  Church  from  those  of  the 
Irish  Nation  ;  the  clergy  hu'*,  in  several 
inst.inccs,  been  lorlidJtu  to  m.  I  11.:  uith 
Irish  politics  ;  the  leading  organs  of  the 
National  Irish  p;xrty,  the  "Nation"  and 
the  "  Tablet."  have  been  ordered  from  the 
reading-rooms  of  the  Young  Mcn\  Catholic 
Societies:  all  which  is  breeding  an  ill 
temper  on  the  part  of  the  Irish  people, 
which  forebodes  evil  consequences. 

.V  great  zeal  is  displayed  by  Roman 
missionaries  in  almost  all  those  countries 
of  Europe  whore  the  great  mass  of  the 
population  belongs  to  anotlur  creed.  In 
l)'.nmrirk  thcy  have  founded,  although 
numbering  only  a  tew  thousand  souls,  a 
weekly  paper,  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
the  Roman  population  of  Sweden,  Norway, 


504 


Religious  and  Literary  Intelligence. 


[July. 


and  Doniumk — the  first  Roman  Catholic 
periodical  published  in  Scandinavia.  They 
pretend  to  make  many  converts,  and  report 
that  the  king  is  favourably  disposed  to- 
•ward  them.  In  Si-cdrn,  new  acts  of  per- 
secution are  expected,  as  the  government 
applied  to  the  Cat Iiolic  priest  of  Stockbolra 
for  ascertaining  tlie  names  of  the  persons 
who  had  gone  over  to  Romanism,  and  of 
those  parents  who  sent  their  children  to 
the  Roman  school.  In  Jin^iia,  the  new 
emperor  li-is  recalled  some  of  the  mo^t 
oppressive  acts  of  the  hue  governmenf,  and 
inspired  his  Roman  Catholic  subjects  with 
the  hope  that  they  will  have,  und.:r  his 
reign,  a  better  time  than  under  that  of  his 
father.  Preliminary  measures  have  been 
taken  for  concluding  a  Concordat  with  the 
pope,  and  an  ambassador  sent  to  Rome  for 
that  purpose.  In  Tnrlcj,  the  Roman 
Church  endeavours,  with  the  aid  of  France 
and  Austria,  to  profit  from  the  new  firman, 
which  grants  tT  the  Christian  equal  rights 
with  the  Mohammedan  ;  and  -works  for 
her  extension  with  greater  confidence 
thin  ever  before. 

ORIENTAJ-.  CHUKCUES. 
The  American  missionaries  in  The  Kiorj- 
dom  of  Greece,  report  tiiat  the  prospects  of 
distributing  tlie  Bible  were  never  better 
than  at  present.  I'ivc,  at  least,  of  the 
archbishops  and  bishops  of  the  Greek 
Church  are  favourable  to  the  circulation 
of  the  jUble  among  their  people  :  and  the 
government  are  quite  ready  to  ha\e  the 
Testament  introduced  and  taught  in  all 
their  schools.  Dr.  King,  of  the  Aiatri.-an 
r.oard  of  Commissioners  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions, has  a  class  of  eight  theological 
students,  devoted,  pious  young  men,  four 
of  whom  are  anxious  to  spend  their  vaca- 
tion as  colporteurs,  travelling  in  Macedo- 
nia, Thessaly,  and  Albania,  to  sell  and 
distribute    the    Bible.      He    has    already 


distributed  on  an  average  three  or  four 
thousand  a  year,  for  a  period  of  twen- 
ty-five years,  making  between  seventy- 
five  ami  one  hundred  thousand  copies 
that  have  thus  gone  forth  through  all  the 
land. 

In  Turkey,  where  now  all  the  restric- 
tions of  the  laws  against  Christianity 
have  been  abolished  by  the  imperial 
finuan  of  February,  a  bright  future  would 
soon  dawn  for  the  Greek  Church,  if  only 
it  could  be  aroused  from  tiiedeep  lethargy 
in  vrhich  it  has  fallen  for  centuries;  for 
the  Turks  are  a  decaying  and  desponding 
race,  and  their  power  is  rapidly  breaking 
to  pieces.  The  members  of  the  Greek 
Chureh,  in  the  Fnropeau  part  of  the  em- 
pire, outnumber  them  already  in  the  ratio 
two  to  one  ;  they  form  a  large  majority  of 
the  whole  population,  and  would,  there- 
fore, not  find  it  difficult,  under  the  present 
circumstances,  to  get  a  prevailing  influ- 
ence in  tlie  management  of  public  affairs. 
Unfortunately  for  the  Christian  interests, 
a  large  number  of  the  C-lreek  clergy  are 
utterly  Corrupt,  and  greatly  dissatisfied 
with  the  reforms  of  the  sultan,  as  they 
may  lose  by  thern  all  occasions  of  extort- 
ing money  from  their  congregations. 

The  Greek  Pitzipios  of  Skio  is  about  to 
found  a  society  for  eft'ecting  a  union  of 
the  Roman  and  Greek  Churches.  Its 
centre  will  be  at  Rome,  and  auxiliary 
societies  will  be  established  at  Paris, 
Brussels,  Vienna,  Bucharest,  and  other 
places.  The  pope  is  very  favourable  to 
the  enterprise,  and  Pitzipios  will  seek, 
by  a  journey  through  Europe,  to  enlist  in 
his  favour  also  the  influence  of  other 
Catholic  governments.  Of  the  Roman  ef- 
forts among  the  Armenians,  nothing  has 
been  lately  heard,  except  that  an  editor 
advocating  the  union  of  the  two  churches 
has  been  thrown  into  prison  by  order  of 
the  Armenian  patriarch. 


NOTE. 


It  is  due  to  tlie  accomplished  scholar  who  has  preceded  me  in  the  Editor- 
ship of  the  Qunrlcrly  to  say  that,  aUhoiigh  my  tenure  of  the  office  dates 
from  election,  yet  the  credit  for  this  exccUeut  number  is  entirely  due  to  him. 
The  same  is  true,  also,  in  regard  to  the  procurement  of  the  contributed 
articled  which  will  tippear  in  the  ensuing  October  number. 

D.  D.  Whedos. 


THE 

METHODIST  QUAETEIILY  EEVIEW. 

OCTOBER,    185G. 


Art.  I.— BLAKEY'S  mSTORY  OF  LOGIC.  .     .  . , 

Hist07-ical  Sketch  of  Logic,  from  the  earliest  Times  to  the  present  Ban.  V>y  PiOEERT 
Bi.AKKv,  Professor  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics,  Queen's  College,  Belfast;  Author 
of  "  The  History  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,"  frc,  itc.  Loudou :  II.  Pail- 
lierc.  Edinburgh:  James  Nichol.  Glasgow:  Griffin  &  Co.  Belfast:  W, 
M'Combe.     MDCCCLI.     1  vol.  Svo. 


portant  subject  ^yitIl  more  amusement  and  less  satisfaction  than  we 
have  experienced  in  the  perusal  of  this  goodly  and  elegantly  printed 
volume.  We  looked  for  information  and  instruction ;  -we  have  found 
only  ignorance,  pretension,  and  the  most  ludicrous  blundering.  Yly. 
Elakcy  has  no  distinct  conception  of  the  nature  and  range  of  the 
subject  he  has  attempted  to  discuss  ;  he  has  neither  fixed  principles 
nor  landmarks  to  guide  him  tlu'ough  the  wilderness  into  which  he 
has  plunged ;  his  mental  capacity  is  very  limited,  and  his  learning, 
even  with  respect  to  the  miscellaneous  topics  he  has  jumbled  con- 
fusedly together,  is  common-place,  loose,  inaccurate,  and  inadciuate. 
His  reasoning  is  as  slovenly  and  miserable  as  his  erudition ;  his 
philosophy  rarely  rises  above  the  slippery  level  of  ridiculous  verb- 
iage; and  his  grammar  is  singularly  lame  and  mutilated.  He 
misspells  the  names  of  the  authors  whose  works  fall  under  his  con- 
sideration, and  he  quotes  Latin  and  other  languages  without  any 
regard  to  cases  or  other  grammatical  inflections.  The  qualifications 
thus  exemplified  are  not  exactly  those  which  arc  calculated  to  ren- 
der a  man  competent  to  delineate  the  arduous  history  of  the  for- 
tunes of  logical  research.  Mr.  Blakey  accordingly  offers  many  prov- 
ocations to  laughter,  but  no  rewards  to  study ;  nor  could  anything 
else  be  expected  of  one  who,  professing  to  be  a  logician,  still  regards 
with  admiration  the  bald  and  barren  common-places  of  Watts.  If 
Fouimr  Series.  Vol.  YHL— 32 


506  Blakeijs  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

he  has  had  any  readers  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  beguiled  into  the 
credulity  of  believing  that  any  available  kno"\vledge  had  been  derived 
by  them  from  this  book,  he  may  have  attained  the  object  which  he 
contemplated  in  its  composition ;  but  we  can  only  appease  a  strong 
sentiment  of  indignation  by  smiling  at  the  pitiable  spectacle  thus 
aSbrdcd  of  the  blind  leading  the  blind,  till  they  both  fall  together 
into  the  ditch.  Where  he  begged  or  borrowed  the  long  list  of  writers 
on  logic,  and  divers  other  subjects,  which  he  appends  as  the  envoi 
to  his  book,  we  do  not  know ;  (perhaps  he  got  it  from  ]Mr.  De  !Mor- 
gan,  for  it  is  certainly  not  extracted  from  his  own  text;)  but  we  do 
know  that,  if  he  had  read  and  understood  a  single  author  in  his  ex- 
tended catalogue,  always  excepting  Watts,  Hedge,  ct  id  genus  omne, 
he  certainly  would  have  exhibited  greater  fi\railiarity  with  the  sub- 
ject whose  history  he  professes  to  write  than  is  discoverable  in  this 
volume. 

Mr.  Blakey  is  professor  of  Logic  and  ^letaphysics  in  Queen's 
College,  Belfast ;  but  if  his  present  work  may  be  taken  as  a  sample 
of  his  teaching,  it  is  very  curious  logic  and  very  shadowy  metaphys- 
ics which  arc  taught  there.  lie  informs  us,  indeed,  that  in  the  three 
Queen's  Colleges,  of  Cork,  Galway,  and  Belfast,  "  the  logic  class  is 
only  now  about  to  open.  There  is  no  prescribed  mode  of  teaching  the 
science,  and  it  is  quite  open  to  the  several  logical  professors  to  adopt 
any  system  of  tuition,  in  accordance  with  their  own  individual  judg- 
ment."* An  alarming  latitude  is  here  announced,  and  it  appears 
still  more  alarming  when  illustrated  b}'  the  present  performance. 
Under  any  circumstances,  such  license  would  be  dangerous  and  il- 
logical. It  is  a  strange  idea  to  dream  of  teaching  the  uniform  opera- 
tions of  human  thought  in  the  process  of  reasoning,  in  such  manner 
as  may  accord  with  the  judgment  of  an  individual.  It  is  only  com- 
parable to  the  absurdity  of  lecturing  on  astronomy  by  guess. 

If  such  aimless  intellectual  vagabondage  had  been  always  allowed, 
and  Mr.  Blakoy's  career  had  been  prepared  b}'  a  similar  and  ci^ually 
incompetent  instructor  in  logic  in  all  the  colleges  and  academies  of 
Ireland,  we  could  readily  understand  the  origination  of  that  distor- 
tion of  thought  and  that  squinting  mode  of  reasoning  which  are  so 
frequently  displayed  in  Hibernian  argumentation,  and  which,  like 
the  double  refraction  in  Iceland  spar,  assume  such  brilliant  forms 
and  crystalline  splendor  in  the  perfection  of  Irish  bulls. 

Mr.  Blakey  has  written  other  books,  not  luminous,  but  volumin- 
ous, on  the  history  of  morals,  and  of  the  philosophy  of  mind.  Into 
some  of  these  it  has  been  our  misfortune  occasionally  to  look,  but 
we  never  discovered  anything  there  sufficiently  striking,  original,  or 
"  Hist.  Sketcli  of  Logic,  chap,  xvi,  p.  447. 


1856.]  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  507 

profound  to  attract  us  to  their  steady  perusal,  or  to  detain  us  long 
from  the  company  of  authors  from  whom  cither  instruction  or  a 
more  acceptable  gratification  -was  to  be  gained.  The  Historical 
Sketch  of  Logic,  from  the  earliest  Times  to  the  present  Day,  offered 
temptations  in  its  title  sufiicient  to  induce  oblivion  of  the  warnings 
■which  our  previous  acquaintance  with  the  writer  had  whispered  in 
our  ear.  AVe  were  in  hopes  of  meeting  with  something,  at  any  rate, 
more  satisfactory  than  the  meagre  and  inaccurate  outline  of  Whateley. 
With  the  prospect  of  discovering  some  information  or  some  novelty, 
or  at  least  of  refreshing  and  purifying  our  recollections  of  the  de- 
tails of  an  important  topic,  we  plunged  incontinently  into  the 
volume,  lured  on  the  more  unwittingly  by  the  luxur}^  of  such  type, 
until  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  the  Slough  of  Despond, 
beslimed,  wearied,  and  blinded  by  that  copious  and  oozy  effusion  of 
intellectual  mud.  which  Mr.  Dlakey  mistakes  for  logic  or  metaphys- 
ics, and  which  may  be  a  hybrid  species  of  the  latter,  but  which  ex- 
hibits neither  affinity  Avith  nor  resemblance  to  the  former.  How  we 
got  out  of  this  quagmire,  or  lived  to  return  thanks  for  our  deliver- 
ance, are  questions  which  can  only  be  solved  by  being  promptly  at- 
tributed to  a  special  miracle.  Our  gratitude,  however,  shall  bo 
shown,  not  by  the  suspension  of  votive  tablets,  but  by  giving  a  late 
caution  to  others  not  to  trust  themselves  to  the  deceptive  security 
of  the  yielding  swamp,  and  the  bewildering  mazes  of  the  tangled 
thicket.  All  the  lights  and  coruscations  which  flit  around  arc  only 
wandering  fires — marsh-lights  inviting  to  destruction.  There  is 
nothing  firm  and  solid  for  the  foot  of  the  wayfarer  in  its  ample  limits, 
but  a  few  tussocks  of  grass  here  and  there,  which  have  been  pillaged 
from  neighbouring  fields,  and  have  taken  root,  lamentably  out  of 
place  iu  this  treacherous  abyss  of  ignorance  and  delusion. 

This  is  a  harsh  criticism  with  which  to  commence  oiu-  notice  of 
this  seemly  volume,  whose  intern;'.!  weakness  is  charitably  strength- 
ened by  the  substantial  thickness  and  solidity  of  its  antique  bind- 
ing, though,  like  its  contents,  not  composed  of  any  permanent  fabric, 
but  only  of  flimsy  muslin  worked  up  li  Vaiitiquc.  Harsh,  however, 
as  the  criticism  is,  it  will  be  amply  sustained  before  we  lay  down 
our  pen.  We  have,  indeed,  a  design,  if  our  space  permits,  of  ex- 
hibiting, at  the  end  of  the  essay,  a  bill  of  particulars,  arranged  under 
appropriate  heads,  like  those  lists  of  heretical  opinions  submitted 
to  the  councils  of  the  Middle  Ages  for  condeumution.  Then  each  of 
our  readers  may  readily  judge  for  himself  of  the  justice  of  our 
severity,  and  the  moderation  which  we  have  displayed. 

A  history  of  Logic  in  the  English  language  was  a  gi-eat  desidera- 
tum.   The  want,  if  adequately  supplied,  Avould  have  met  with  grat- 


508  Blakeijs  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

itude,  and  been  entitled  to  liberal  commendation.  The  scholars  of 
the  English  tongue — to  use  an  expressive  and  serviceable  archaism, 
•which  has  gone  out  of  vogue  ^vith  the  crowded  medieval  univer- 
sities "which  gave  it  currency — the  scholars  of  the  English  tongue 
have  been  shamefully  negligent  of  logical  pursuits  during  three  cen- 
turies, and  this  negligence  has  been  productive  of  proportionate  igno- 
rance in  regard  to  all  matters  connected  with  its  history  and  details. 

It  might  be  difficult  at  this  time,  by  any  sudden  or  single  effort, 
to  revive  an  interest  in  these  long-forgotten  studies  ;  but  all  persons, 
even  those  accustomed  to  speak,  think,  and  look  upon  Logic  as  an 
antiquated  vagary,  and  as  the  idle  trifling  of  benighted  ages,  would 
have  read  with  interest  a  creditable  account  of  its  origin,  fortunes, 
fluctuations,  and  fate.  But  this  work  appeared  just  in  time  and 
form  to  damp  an}'  such  interest,  and  to  chill  any  future  expectation 
of  this  kind.  AVhile  the  patient  and  sedate  labom's  of  many  learned 
and  profound  philosophers  were  beginning  to  produce  their  effect 
even  in  England;  while  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton  and  John  Stuart  Mill, 
■with  their  discii)les,  were  recalling  attention  to  the  long  unjustly 
slighted  study  of  Logic,  and  giving  a  new  impetus  to  its  career,  Mr. 
Blakey  comes  forward  with  his  threadbare  balderdash,  and  palms 
off  the  crude  notions  and  superficial  conclusions  which  were  current 
in  the  school  of  lleid  and  Dugald  Stewart,  and  which  might  be  par- 
donably entertained  there,  as  something  calculated  to  satisfy  the 
philosophical  appetences  of  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  as  a  con-^pctcnt  canon  of  criticism  to  be  employed  in  the 
exposition  of  the  history  of  Logic. 

The  task  undertaken  by  Mr.  Blakey  would  have  been  productive 
of  a  most  acceptable  treatise,  if  it  had  been  decently  performed. 
Executed  as  it  has  been,  it  sinks  into  a  nuisance.  "  There  is  not," 
says  he,  "  so  far  as  I  know,  any  work  of  this  kind  in  the  English 
language."*  Heaven  forbid  that  there  should  bo  a  second  of  the 
same  sort  discovcrablo  in  any  bnguage.  But,  even  in  the  sense  in 
which  this  declaration  is  made  by  its  author,  it  is  perfectly  true ;  and 
just  for  this  reason,  his  book  will  be  sold,  and  may  be  read,  to  the 
confusion,  dismay,  and  disappointment  of  all  persons  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  subject,  and  to  the  hopeless  bewilderment  of  all  others. 

But  Mr.  Blakey  is  not  content  with  informing  us  that  the  want  of 
any  history  of  logic  in  the  English  language  had  emboldened  him  to 
trust  to  the  public  ignorance  or  the  public  an.xicty,  for  the  favourable 
reception  of  his  commodity;  he  proceeds  with  the  further  assurance 
that  he  has  not  been  able  to  derive  much  benefit  or  assistance 
from  the  "  two  or  three  treatises  of  a  foreign  origin,  possessing  an 
'^  Hist.  iJketch  of  Logic,  Trefacc,  p.  vii. 


1S56.]  Blakeifs  History  of  Logic.  509 

historical  character,"  "vrhich  he  has  met  with.*  We  are  not  sur- 
prised at  this  ;  for  he  seems  to  have  neither  encountered  nor  been 
acquainted  with  the  existence  of  those  foreign  works  which  are  de- 
voted to  this  and  kindred  topics.  In  his  long  list  of  logical  authors 
there  is  no  mention  of  Franck,  Jourdain,  Waddington — Castus, 
Launoius,  or  St.  Ililairo's  essay,  entitled  De  la  Logiqjje  tVAristofe  ; 
nor  do  we  remember  to  have  met  with  any  allusion  to  these  names 
in  his  text,  lie  cites  St.  Hilaire's  translation  of  Aristotle's  Orga- 
non,  but  the  tractate  which  gained  the  prize  from  the  French  Insti- 
tute, and  which  discusses  with  fulness  and  ability  the  varied  for- 
tunes of  Aristotle's  logical  works,  and  incidentally  the  general  his- 
tory of  Logic,  he  has  apparently  not  even  heard  of,  or  he  would 
have  inserted  its  name  in  his  list,  among  the  many  other  unread 
books,  of  which  only  a  scant  proportion  relate  directl}'-  to  Logic. 

But  what  wonder  can  be  entertained  at  such  ignorant  and  perverse 
pretension  on  the  part  of  an  author,  who  has  read  so  little,  thought 
so  little,  and  digested  so  little  about  the  subject  he  professes  to  teach 
in  college  and  to  illustrate  in  print,  as  to  assure  us  gravely,  and 
without  suspecting  the  smile  ho  challenges,  that  "it  has  been  his 
constant  aim  to  keep  the  general  principles  of  the  different  logical 
systems  he  has  noticed  distinctly  before  the  reader's  attention."! 
Unless  by  systems  he  intends  awkvrardly  to  designate  more  differences 
in  the  mode  of  exposition,  which  his  subsequent  blunders  of  the 
same  sort  will  not  permit  us  to  suppose,  this  sentence  betrays  its 
own  nonsense  and  the  incompetence  of  its  author  on  its  very  face. 
It  is  a  loose,  but  pardonable  expression  to  speak  of  two  systems  of 
Logic— the  deductive  and  the  inductive— as  these  are  but  diverse 
applications  of  tlic  same  general  principles,  or  the  direct  and  inverse 
modes  of  reasoning.  But  in  all  correct  argumentation  or  demon- 
stration the  general  principles  are  necessarily  and  immutably  the 
same.  They  may  be  perverted,  misapplied,  misunderstood,  when 
they  cease  to  be  principles,  but  they  can  be  neither  changed  nor 
supplanted  to  suit  individual  diversities  of  intellectual  orgiuiization. 
There  is  only  one  set  of  principles  recognised  by  Logic ;  there  is 
only  one  system  of  Logic  founded  upon  them,  though  that  system 
may  bo  more  or  less  imperfectly  apprehended,  and  more  or  less  fully 
developed.  Yet  this  blunder  is  repeated  by  ]Mr.  Blakey  on  every 
possible  occasion,  and  preeminently  when  he  excuses  his  omission 
of  interesting  logical  questions,  in  consequence  of  "  the  unavoidable 
brevity  where  the  number  of  systems  and  authors  so  far  outstripped 
the  time  and  means  at  his  disposal."!    We  say  nothing  of  the  incon- 

°  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  Pref.,  p.  vii.  t  IbiJ.,  Pref.,  p.  viii. 

X  Ibid.,  Preface,  p.  viii;  of  IniroJ.,  pp.  xxvi,  xxvii. 


510  Blakerfs  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

gruity  of  this  phraseology,  though  it  is  a  singular  race  which  is  run 
between  time  and  means  on  the  one  side,  and  a  number  of  authors 
and  systems  on  the  other. 

The  closing  sentences  of  the  Preface  disclose  rather  than  explain 
the  drift  of  these  illogical  observations.  We  are  there  informed 
that  the  contents  of  this  volume  refer  chiefly  to  the  philosophical 
aspect  of  the  science,  and  that  he  may  be  able  in  a  short  time  to 
write  another  history  of  Logic,  devoted  to  the  technical  and  formal 
division  of  the  subject.  We  might  accord  wdth  some  hesitation  to 
Kant,  that  it  is  possible  to  construct  a  science  of  pure  or  tran- 
scendental Logic  distinct  and  separate  from  formal  Logic,  though 
even  in  this  case  the  former  would  be  a  branch  of  metaphysics.  But 
it  is  of  no  such  distinction  as  this  that  !Mr.  Llakey  entertains  any  con- 
ception. He  means,  as  the  execution  of  his  present  task  demon- 
strates, that  having  filled  one  volume  with  the  vague  and  desultory 
fancies  in  regard  to  Logic  circulated  principally  by  those  who  were 
ignorant  of  this  study,  or  decried  it,  he  will,  on  the  earliest  oppor- 
tunity, devote  another  volume  to  that  which  has  alone  been  regarded 
as  Logic  by  all  real,  and  by  the  multitude  of  professing  logicians. 
In  other  words,  he  informs  us  that,  having  written  a  history  of  Logic, 
^Yhich  does  not  treat  of  it,  but  of  some  very  loose  philosophical 
doctrines  in  regard  to  human  reason,  he  Avill  write  another  work, 
perhaps  under  some  equally  inappropriate  title,  which  shall  give  the 
history  of  Logic,  if,  in  the  meantime,  he  can  discover  either  the 
signihcance  of  Logic,  or  its  history.  Mr.  Blakey's  present  book  is 
not  the  history  of  Logic,  but  an  attempt  at  a  history  of  something 
which  is  not  Logic,  and  is  very  vague,  incomplete,  and  unsatisfactory, 
as  the  history  of  a  negative,  or  of  a  non-entity,  necessarily  must  be. 
His  next  work  may  be  a  history  of  what  is  ordinarily  regarded  as 
Logic  by  its  teachers,  and  the  confusion  which  in  the  present 
instance  surrounds  both  the  subject  and  its  treatment,  may  in  the 
second  attempt  be  limited  to  the  treatment  only,  and  to  the  manage- 
ment of  details. 

The  opening  sentence  of  the  Introduction  continues  the  confusion 
■ffhicli  had  been  so  successfully  inaugurated  in  the  Preface.  "It 
may  confidently  be  asserted,"  says  Mr.  Llakey,  "  that  there  is  no 
department  of  human  speculation  and  inquiry  in  which  so  many  con- 
tradictory opinions  arc  entertained  as  in  the  science  or  art  of  Logic."* 
Without  examining  particularly  into  the  other  merits  of  this  state- 
ment, we  might  suggest  that  there  are  greater  differences  and  dis- 
crepances between  the  various  notions  which  have  been  adopted  in 
regard  to  politics,  medicine,  and  tlieology.  But  the  declaration, 
"  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  Indrod.,  p.  sv. 


1856.]  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  511 

vrhich  forms  the  burden  of  his  Introduction,  requires  more  minute 
consideration.  It  is  perfectly  true  that  there  has  been  great  diversity 
of  opinion  between  the  logical  and  the  illogical  portiun  of  mankind, 
including  in  the  latter  class  IMr.  Blakey  and  his  Scotch  school  of 
metaphysicians,  wich  the  exception  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  as  to 
the  meaning,  validity,  and  value  of  Logic.  But  this  is  just  such  a 
difference  as  exists  upon  every  subject  between  the  instructed  and 
ignorant,  it  is  equally  true  that  there  has  been  dissent  even  among 
logicians  as  to  the  proper  scope  and  range  of  Logic,  some  assigning 
to  it  a  larger,  some  a  smaller  domain,  but  all  agree  in  recognising  as 
Logic,  and  as  characteristically  such,  that  which  is  alone  so  regarded 
by  the  more  strait-laced  precisians  of  the  school.  The  discord  is 
only  in  regard  to  the  question  of  more  or  less,  and  does  not  mate- 
rially affect  the  central  substance,  which  all  admit.  There  is  also  a 
furtlier  difference  of  opinion,  discussed  by  the  ancients  and  by  the 
schoolmen,  and  fruitlessly  agitated  by  the  moderns,  as  to  whether 
Logic  is  a  science  or  an  art,  or  both.  But  this  is  purely  an  esotcrical 
thesis,  and  affects  the  subject  biit  slightly  in  regard  to  the  estimation 
of  its  nature  and  essence.  No  one,  however,  agrees  with  'Mx.  ]'>lakey 
in  speaking  of  it,  as  he  does  continually,*  as  "  the  science  or  art  of 
Logic,"  as  if  those  were  equivalent,  indifferent,  and  commutable 
expressions.  He  has  undertaken  to  write  the  history  of  Logic, 
without  having  previously  settled  in  his  own  mind  whether  it  is  a 
science  or  an  art,  or  whether  it  is  sometimes  the  one  and  sometimes 
the  other,  according  to  its  mode  of  treatment,  and  its  development 
as  a  theory  of  the  reasoning  process,  or  as  an  instrument  for  applica- 
tion in  the  determination  of  the  validity  of  any  particular  line  of 
reasoning.  He  has  not  even  determined  whether  there  is  any  dif- 
ference or  no  difference  between  the  phrases  ;  but  he  rolls  about  the 
cloudy  semblance  of  a  meaning,  as  if  the  option  left  to  his  reader  of 
selecting  either  meaning,  would  acquit  him  of  the  guilt  of  having 
none  which  is  settled,  precise,  and  definite.  He  parades  the  two 
attributes  in  a  leash,  and  is  afraid  to  slip  the  couple,  because  ho 
does  not  know  which  to  retain,  either  in  general  or  on  any  special  occa- 
sion. He  cannot  draw  any  proper  distinction,  so  as  to  arrive  at  a 
safe  conclusion,  and  therefore  he  drives  them  always  in  a  yoke. 
Yet,  on  one  occasion,  he  manifests  his  consciousness  that  a  distinc- 
tion exists,  but  without  making  any  effort  to  discover  what  the  dis- 
tinction is.t  "When  he  indicates,  however,  this  acquaintance  with  a 
double  employment  of  the  terra  Logic,  he  does  so  only  to  wind  up 
with  a  folly  which  any  man  of  the  least  education  or  reilectiun  might 

"  Ilist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  i,  p.  24  ;  ch.  ii,  p.  3 1 ;  cb.  i v,  pp.  C3,  91 ;  cli.  viii,  p.  1C2. 
t  rbid.,  ch.  i,  p.  1. 


512  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

have  escaped.  "  The  science  of  reasoning,  considered  under  two 
distinct  aspects,  namely,  as  a  science  and  as  an  art,  must  have  been 
coeval  with  the  first  ages  of  literature  in  every  country."  Could 
any  one  but 

The  thundering,  blundering  Irishman — 
The  slasliing,  dashing,  smashing,  lashing,  thrashing,  hashing  Irishman — 

one  who  had  drawn  his  whole  intellectual  nourishment  from  the 
savoury  juices  of  Lish  bulls — could  any  other  person  have  gravely 
and  unsuspiciously  committed  such  a  gross  Hibernicism,  as  the  con- 
sideration of  a  science  under  the  two  aspects  of  science  and  art? 
This  grievous  lapse  betrays  the  habitual  indistinctness  and  confusion 
of  the  author's  ideas  on  the  subject;  and,  instead  of  giving  him  the 
credit  of  having  got  a  glimpse  of  the  truth  in  a  solitary  instance, 
shows  that  he  was  incapable  of  seiziug  it  when  it  was  almost  within 
his  grasp.  But,  in  addition  to  this  blunder,  was  tliere  ever  a  more 
stolid  display  of  ignorance  than  representing  any  science  or  any 
art,  except  some  of  the  mechanic  arts  and  the  art  of  poetry,  as  coeval 
with  the  first  ages  of  literature?  i\Iany  generations  passed  away 
after  poetry  was  composed  before  prose  was  attempted ;  and  even 
the  art  of  poetry,  as  a  thing  to  be  taught  and  studied,  was  never 
contemplated  till  the  atteuij^t  of  Aristotle.  In  everything,  first 
comes  the  spontaneous  practice,  then  the  art  which  guides  and 
purifies  that  practice,  and  cnal^lcs  skill,  talent,  and  industry  to 
imitate  what  genius  had  originally  created,  and  unconsciously 
achieved.  Science  follows  at  a  late  period;  it  dissects,  analyzes, 
and  compares,  and  thus  discovers  those  principles  and  laws  which 
art  had  mechanically  applied,  and  which  genius  had  unwittingly  fol- 
lowed or  established.  That  men  reasoned  in  the  earliest  ages  of 
literature,  and  long  before,  is  obvious  enough;  that  they  practised 
reasoning  in  unconscious  modes  is  true,  but  this  is  reasoning  with- 
out art,,  and  iutlioiitcs  tliat  thry  were  very  far  from  suspecting  the 
possible  existence  of  any  science  to  explain  the  process  which  nature 
dictated  to  themselves.  Little  was  done,  and  only  in  connection 
with  the  subordinate  an^l  introductory  purts,  toward  the  construc- 
tion of  such  a  science,  until  Aristotle  wrote  his  Analytics  and  accom- 
panying treatises.  Hut,  thou.irh  Aristotle  modestly  but  firmly  claimed 
to  be  himself  the  founder  of  what  has  stibsequently  bcuu  termed 
Logic— though  Mr.  Y.hlny  quotes  the  record  in  which  this  claim  is 
asserted  *— though  the  justice  of  these  pretensions  has  been  admitted 
by  all  logicians  and  scholars— .Mr.  T.lakey  fancies,  that  as  a  science 
and  as  an  art,  Logic  was  coeval  with  the  earliest  manifestations  of 
°  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  ii,  pp.  43-9. 


1856.]  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  513 

literature  in  every  country.  He  has  been  betrayed  into  this  gross 
error  by  an  entire  misconception  of  a  just,  but  not  very  profound 
remark  of  Macaulay's,  that  in  all  ages  men  reasoned  in  the  same 
way,  and  in  obedience  to  the  same  principles.  This  observation, 
however,  he  did  not  understand.  The  trutii  which  shone  upon  him 
was  broken,  distorted,  and  refracted  at  a  curious  angle,  in  passing 
from  Mr.  Macaulay  through  the  denser  medium  of  his  own  intel- 
hgcnce  and  expression. 

Of-cmrrsc  tre  ar^Trot  going  to  frnter  here  into  the  lf«g  and  diiH- 
cult  investigation  of  the  essential  character  of  Logic,  with  a  view  of 
determining  whether  it  is  a  science  or  an  art,  or  when  it  is  the  one, 
and  when  the  other.  This  is  one  of  those  interesting  logical  ques- 
tions which  ]\Ir.  Elakey  has  eliminated  from  his  book,  and  v.hich  we 
will  pass  over,  as  we  intend  for  once,  at  least,  to  adhere  closely  to 
our  text,  which  will  make  larger  demands  upon  our  notice  than  we 
have  the  space  to  satisfy.  Wc  will  only  state  our  own  doctrine, 
which  will  be  found  in  consonance  with  the  tenets  of  genuine  logi- 
cians. Logic  is  properly  and  peculiarly  a  science,  as  the  theory  of 
the  formal  processes  of  reasoning.*  It  is  an  art  in  its  legitimate 
applications,  as  affording  a  criterion  to  determine  the  accuracy  or  in- 
accuracy with  which  those  processes  have  been  performed  in  partic- 
ular cases  of  alleged  demonstration.  If  we  might  recur  to  a  dis- 
tinction implied  in  the  Organon  of  Aristotle,  Logic  is  the  science, 
dialectics  is  the  art.  To  exemplify  this  difference,  and  to  justify 
these  designations,  would  require  a  longer  discussion  than  it  vrould 
be  appropriate  to  introduce  here. 

^Ir.  Biakcy's  acquaintance  with  Logic,  and  his  competence  to  be- 
come its  historian,  are  both  displayed  in  the  declaration  that  no  two 
of  its  professors  agree  in  regard  to  either  the  fundamental  princi- 
ples of  the  science,  or  the  modes  of  applying  them.f  Similar  ob- 
jections have  been,  and  may  be  more  justly,  made  to  3Ict:q'liy.>:c3. 
If  our  author  assents  to  either  or  both  scis  of  objection.-,  we  can 
discover  neither  logical  nor  moral  propriety  in  his  consenting  to  be 
a  professor  of  such  fraudulent  and  delusive  branches  of  Icarnin:;.  We 
had  supposed  the  agreement  among  the  instructed  to  be  unbroken 
in  regard  to  the  great  doctrines  of  Logic,  and  their  differences  to  bo 
confined  to  subordinate  points.  Yet-the  strange  assertion  is  r'.'peaced 
still  more  boldly,  and  it  is  alleged  that  logic  cannot  furnish  two  logi- 
cians of  any  country,  who  can  agree  in  any  one  common  principle 

''St.  Hilairo,  Logiquo  d'Aristote,  Trcface,  vol,  i,  pp.  10-17.  Sir  Wiliram  Ham- 
ilton, Discussioas,  pp.  123-1.32,  Euglisli  edition.  We  ought,  perliaps,  to  Lave  added 
above — employed  in  demonstration. 

t  Ilist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  Introl.,  p.  xvi. 


514  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

of  the  science.*  "We  are  not  aware  that  there  has  ever  been  any 
dissent  from  the  dictum  Je  o?nni  et  nulla,  though  attempts  have 
been  made  to  show  that  it  was  unnecessary.  To  these,  however,  no 
allusion  is  ever  made  by  this  writer. 

With  such  a  bad  opinion  of  the  health  and  constitution  of  Logic 
as  is  constantly  avowed  by  jMr.  Blakc}--,  it  is  equally  strange  and 
indecorous  that  he  should  have  undertaken  to  be  its  historian.  This 
course  might  have  been  intelligible,  had  he  believed  in  the  utter  dis- 
solution and  extinction  of  Logic,  and  been  desirous  to  vent  his  spite 
on  its  remains.     But  he  cannot  say, 

"I  como  to  bury  Cresar,  not  to  praise  him." 

He  does  not  bcHeve  in  its  inhumation ;  it  appears  to  him  to  have  a 
vigorous  and  spontaneous  principle  of  vitality.  It  is  not  easy  to 
understand  how  such  a  conviction  can  be  compatible  with  his  habit- 
ual views  on  the  subject.  Nor  is  our  amazement  lessened  by  his 
amusing  illustration,  that,  "  like  the  phceni.x,  it  is  continually  rising 
from  its  o-^vn  ashes.''r  This  is  as  inapplicable  to  Logic  as  it  is  at 
variance  with  the  ancient  legend  which  is  pressed  into  his  service. 
What  popular  myth  or  mythologer  could  ever  have  conceived  or 
embodied  the  absurdity  of  representing  anything  as  continually 
rising  from  its  own  ashes  ?  Such  imaginations  arc  vouchsafed  only 
to  the  Emerald  Isle. 

Iklr.  Blakey  confuses  himself  and  his  readers  with  a  long  disser- 
tation on  the  causes  of  the  obscurity  which  covers  the  province  of 
Logic,  and  of  the  divcr.^.ity  of  opinions  which  prevail  relative  to  it.  Our 
explanation  of  these  phenomena,  so  far  as  they  e.xist,  is  brief 
and  sufficient.  They  arise  from  the  met  that,  in  such  instances, 
Logic  is  unknown  and  is  not  studied.  Mr.  Blakey's  discussion  is 
much  more  extended  than  this,  without  being  equally  satisfactory. 
It  is  confined,  however,  to  metaphysics,  or  more  properly  to  psy- 
chology, so  fu-  as  it  has  any  a]ip!lcabiliry  at  all,  and  rarel}-  touches 
the  domain  of  Logic.  After  laborious  endeavors  to  grapple  with  the 
clouds  which  fly  before  him,  he  arrives  at  the  conclusion,  regarded 
by  him  as  novel,  tliat  the  only  alternative  left,  out  of  three  proposi- 
tions suggested,  is  to  confmc  Logic  to  thought  striotly  as  an  act  of 
thinking,  and  to  pass  by  the  particular  objects  about  which  the  mind 
thinks.t 

This,  though  very  awkwardly  and  illogically  expressed,  is 
no  new  discovery,  but  appears  to  convey  a  glimmering  idea  of  what 
has  always  been  considered  by  logicians  as  the  peculiar  subject- 

*  ITist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  Introd.,  p.  xviii.  f  Ibid.,  Introd.,  p.  x^ii. 

I  Ibid.,  Introd.,  p.  xxiii. 


1856.3  Blaket/s  History  of  Logic.  515 

matter  of  Logic.  The  other  two  conjectural  aims  indicated,  have 
never  been  assigned  to  it  by  any  one  who  understood  what  he  was 
talking  about,  for  no  logician  ever  conceived  that  Logic  had  anything 
to  do  with  what  appertained  to  the  lo.w3  of  thought  as  tliought,  or  as 
anything  else,  or  with  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  all  or  some  of  the 
objects  of  human  inquiry.  Besides  the  awkwardness  of  these  ex- 
pressions, which  reveal  through  the  rents  and  fissures  of  the  misty 
fabric  the  chaos  of  the  author's  meaning,  he  betrays  the  same  hope- 
less confusion  of  logic  and  metaphysics,  vrhich  is  again  exhibited  in 
the  following  remark,  as  on  nearly  every  page  of  his  volume, 
x^ccording  to  him,  "  the  entire  history  of  the  science  of  reasoning, 
viewed  from  a  purely  intellectual  position,  is  nothing  but  a  practical 
and  running  commentary  upon  the  question  of  how  much  of  the 
mind  is  to  be  appropriated  to  logic."*  "We  would  gladly  bo  inform- 
ed how  any  such  history  could  be  viewed  from  any  but  an  intellect- 
ual position,  because  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  comprehend  how  knowl- 
edge of  any  sort  can  be  regarded  in  any  other  light.  But  we  main- 
tain that  the  whole  mind  is  requisite  for  Logic  as  for  all  study,  and 
that  logic  does  not  pretend  to  appropriate,  or  to  be  satisfied  with 
appropriating,  any  particular  fragment  of  the  mind  to  itself.  "What 
it  does  do  is,  to  allege  that  certain  faculties  of  the  mind  are  alone  so 
characteristically  employed  in  the  development  of  Logic,  as  to  require 
to  be  particularly  noted  as  the  special  factors  in  the  formal  processes 
of  demonstration,  and  to  be  introduced  from  the  domain  of  psychol- 
ogy into  the  sphere  of  Logic.  "Whether  this  view  is  considercvl  cor- 
rect or  not,  will  depend  upon  the  larger  or  more  restricted  manner 
in  which  the  limits  of  that  science  maybe  conceived;  but  it  docs  not 
affect,  in  either  event,  the  estimation  of  the  degree  in  which  the 
mental  faculties  are  employed  in  this  or  any  other  science.  It  may 
seem  very  practicable  to  Mr.  Blakey  to  write  with  half  a  mind  a 
book  on  Logic,  and  his  success  may  confirm  him  in  this  error.  But 
his  book,  or  any  otlxcr  book  written  under  such  disadv;vntageou5 
circumstances,  will  be  considered  to  be  not  written  on  Logic,  but 
round  about  it.  No  imagination  of  any  such  fragmentary  applica- 
tion of  the  intellect  ever  entered  into  the  head  of  any  logician ;  the 
insinuation  of  any  such  charge  proceeds  only  from  the  misapprehen- 
sion and  misconception  of  the  accuser.  The  logician  devotes  his 
whole  mind  to  his  treatise,  and  he  exacts  the  whole  for  the  compre- 
hension of  what  he  writes,  and  the  sutjcct  he  treats,  though  he  dis- 
cusses only  certain  faculties  of  the  mind  as  constituting  an  essential  and 
characteristic  part  of  the  suhjecta  materia  of  his  science.  Mr. 
Blakey  understands  neither  his  accusation  nor  the  branch  of  specu- 
*Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  lutrod.,  p.  xsiii. 


516  Blakci/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

lation  M-bicIi  he  accuses,  lie  does  not  perceive  that  his  charge 
alleges  an  absurdity  of  procedure  which  is  so  obvious,  that  it  could 
never  have  been  seriously  contemplated  by  any  intelligent  man,  nor 
decs  he  see  that  logic  of  any  sort  would  have  been  an  impossibility 
under  the  condition  of  a  fragmentary  appropriation  of  mind.  ]Mr. 
Blakey  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other  instances,  exhibits  a  great  defect 
of  discrimination,  or,  what  is  nearly  the  same  thing,  discretion — the 
discretive  faculty.  He  cannot  himself  separate  things  which  are 
separable,  or  not  homogeneous ;  and  he  cannot  help  separating  things 
which  are  naturally  united.  To  apply  Coleridge's  forcible  expres- 
sion, he  is  unable  to  distinguish  in  order  to  divide,  and  therefore  he 
divides  in  order  that  he  may  distinguish.  He  blends  Logic  and 
metaphysics  together,  not  as  t!ie  conceivable  parts  of  a  complex  whole, 
but  as  constituting  a  single,  uniform,  indiscernible  branch  of  specu- 
lation. He  thinks  the  mind  can  be  carved,  as  a  butcher  would  cut 
up  beef,  to  suit  the  wants  or  the  tastes  of  customers;  and  is  weak  enough 
to  suppose  that  logicians  have  been  weak  enough  to  commit  the 
same  foil}'.  It  is  true,  ho  does  not  consider  this  mutilation  of  the 
mind  to  be  correct  as  the  theory  of  mental  action,  but  he  speaks  of 
it,  notwithstanding,  as  if  it  were  a  possible  conception,  and  one  which 
had  been  actually  entertained.  It  is  unpardonable  that  he  should 
so  completely  misunderstand  the  points  which  he  discusses,  and 
then  represent  his  own  vague  misconceptions  as  the  tenets  of 
others. 

But  his  boldness  is  fully  equal  to  his  blundering,  and  if  he  can- 
not help  sinking  into  the  mire  at  every  step,  he  has  a  singular  facility 
of  swearing  and  believing  that  he  treads  on  firm  ground  all  the  time, 
and  that  it  can  be  made  so  by  his  asseverations.  He  is  thus  enabled 
to  preserve  throughout  the  long  labyrinth  of  his  wanderings  the  feli- 
citous confidence  with  which  his  journey  was  commenced.  .Nothing 
but  such  an  habitual  hallucination  could  account  for  the  nonchalant 
audacity  of  some  of  las  declarations.  "  Logic  has  never  been  studied 
and  taught  as  an  independent  science,"  ■'  is  his  novel  dictum.  AVhat 
other  character  did  it  possess  in  the  hands  of  Aristotle,  Theophrastu?, 
and  their  successors ''.  or  in  the  Commentaries  of  the  Scholiasts  ? 
"What  was  it  in  the  teachings  of  the  unjustly  neglected  Schoolmen  ? 
AVhat  ,in  the  writings  of  Leibnitz,  Wolf,  Lambert,  and  Kant  ? 
What  in  the  estimation  of  nearly  everybody,  till  Watts  compounded 
his  bald  niaiscrics,  and  the  study  of  Logic  was  forsworn  and  ignored 
in  every  college  and  university  in  Great  Britain,  in  order  to  give 
place  to  what  was  not  Logic,  the  philosophy  of  Locke  ?  The  school- 
men may  have  extended  too  far  the  range  of  logic  and  encroached 
'■'  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  IntroJ.,  p.  xxiv. 


1856.]  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  517 

on  the  domain  of  the  other  sciences,  though  their  oflences  in  this 
respect  have  been  greatly  exaggerated.  But  this  is  an  error  directly 
the  opposite  to  that  which  Mr.  Blakey  "u-ould  charge  upon  Logic 
universally.  They  made  it  the  science — the  one,  prime,  great,  ail- 
regulating  science.  Thus  they  rendered  it  independent  of  all  other 
sciences,  except  so  far  as  it  adopted  as  first  principles  some  notions 
afterward  more  fully  developed  by  metaphysics.  But  other  sciences 
were  represented  as  dependent  on  Logic,  while  it  was  itself  considered 
independent  of  all.  This  is  the  reverse  of  what  Mr.  Blakey  alleges, 
for  it  vrould  be  just  as  unreasonable  to  assert  that  astronomy  is  not 
an  independent  science,  because  its  exposition  and  acquisition  require 
a  previous  acquaintance  with  grammar,  and  its  construction  some 
knowledge  of  arithmetic  and  geometry,  as  to  make  the  allegation 
which  i\lr.  Blakey  does,  because  Logic  may  be  connected  in  some 
points  with  metaphysics,  and  may  be  thought  to  borrow  some  prin- 
ciples from  it.  i\or  should  it  be  brought  forward  as  any  objection 
to  Logic,  or  any  explanation  of  the  obscurity  said  to  hang  over  it,  by 
one  who  seems  to  regard  as  an  essential  characteristic  of  the  science, 
that  "  it  is  not  a  thing  which  possesses  an  independent  existence, 
but  is  merely  the  exponent  of  all  other  sul^^cts  or  departments  ot 
human  inquiry  which  force  themselves  on  the  attention  of  mankind."''* 
There  may  not  be  contradiction  of  expression  between  this  and  Mr. 
Blakey's  previous  assertion,  but  there  are  certainly  both  contrariety 
and  confusion  of  thought.  The  latter  sentence  is,  indeed,  to  our 
minds,  inconsistent  with  itself,  for  Logic  must  be  independent,  if  it  is 
the  exponent  of  all  other  subjects ;  and  to  deny  its  independence, 
with  this  conviction  laid  down,  is  to  sin  in  despite  of  acknowledged 
evidence  of  the  sin.  Mr.  Blakey's  assertion,  however,  on  this  point, 
is  neither  bolder  nor  more  nonsensical  than  his  decision  in  regard 
to  astronomy,  that  it  would  be  no  science  at  all  except  for  "its  im- 
mediate and  personal  effects"  "  in  guiding  the  mariner's  frail  bark 
in  the  trackless  ocean. '^t  But  astronomy  had  a  scientiiic  form,  and 
was  a  recognised  science,  for  sixteen  or  seventeen  centuries  before  it 
was  directly  or  consciously  applied  to  any  such  use.  That  astro- 
scopy,  or  the  inspection  of  the  stars,  furnished  practical  aids  to  navi- 
gation and  other  pursuits  from  very  early  times,  is  not  questioned ; 
but  astroscopy  is  no  more  astronomy  than  it  is  the  science  of  elec- 
tricity to  watch  the  play  of  the  lightning  in  the  clouds.  ]Mr.  ]>lakey 
is  deluded  m  consequence  of  not  assigning  any  definite  meaning  to 
his  terras,  and  of  considering  that  to  be  a  determining  cause  of  the 
scientific  character,  which  only  determines  the  practical  utility  of  a 
science.  What  instruction  or  satisfaction  can  be  anticipated  from 
*  Hist.  Skctcli  of  Logic,  cb.  iv,  p.  7^.  t  I^i'l-i  Introd-,  pp.  xxiv,  xxv. 


518  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

tlie  perusal  of  a  •work  in  ^vhich  such  laxity  of  thought,  reasoning, 
and  expression,  is  flagrantly  displayed,  -uhen  the  subject  itself  exacts 
the  utmost  perspicuity  and  precision  of  both  conception  and  lan- 
guage ? 

^Vitilin  the  limits  of  this  curious  Introduction  occurs  the  quaint 
remark,  that  "■with  purely  objective  kno"ftledge,  Logic  does  not  come 
in  hostile  contact."*  We  are  not  a^are  that  there  is  any  knowledge 
to  "Vthich  it  bears  inimicrd  relations.  It  has  always  professed,  and 
usually  appeared  to  bo  the  amicus  curice  at  the  tribunal  of  the  judg- 
ment. Its  avowed  or  real  hostility  is  directed  solely  against  that 
which  pretends  to  be,  but  is  not  knowledge.  Its  enmity,  if  anything 
so  abstract  and  impersonal  can  be  said  even  metaphorically  to  in- 
dulge hatred,  is  confined  entirely  to  perverse  sophistry,  to  obstinate 
folly,  and  incurable  ignorance.  Its  friendly  admonitions  are  re- 
served for  unconscious  error  or  accidental  fallacy.  Mr.  Elakey 
may  have  found  its  edge  frequently  directed  against  himself,  and 
if,  like  the  rebellious  prophet,  his  eyes  had  not  been  blinded  to  the 
perception  of  the  sword  of  the  angel,  which  turned  aside  even  his 
ass  from  the  road  to  perdition,  he  might  have  often  seen  its  keen 
blade  turned  remorsely  against  himself  during  the  insane  labour  of 
concocting  this  volume. 

All  these  gross  blumlcrs,  perversions,  and  misstatements,  are  ex- 
tracted from  the  dull  and  obscure  Introduction,  in  which  the  author 
attempts  to  lay  down  those  principles  of  what  ho  deems  to  be  phi- 
losophy, by  which  he  intends  to  be  guided  in  the  composition  of  his 
history. 

We  should  not  have  expended  so  much  ammunition  on  the  over- 
throw of  these  crumbling  turrets,  if  they  did  not  afford  an  adequate 
type  of  the  whole  subsequent  work.  In  this  Introduction  Mr. 
Blakey  endeavours  to  describe  the  arena  through  which  he  proposes 
to  expatiate,  and  to  determine  the  positions  of  the  stars  which  he 
should  fullow  in  his  course:  and,  though  his  description  amounts 
only  to  the  circumscription  of  a  vast  and  shapeless  space  filled  with 
weeds,  which  he  cultivates  for  flowers ;  and  the  stars  on  which  his 
eyes  are  fixed  are  not  the  lights  of  heaven,  but  the  flames  which 
spring  from  the  corruption  of  earth,  or  dance  before  the  vision  of  a 
man  who  has  knocked  Ids  head  against  a  post  Avhile  stumbling  about 
in  the  dark  ;  3'et  the  Introduction  and  its  criticism  afford  a  specimen 
of  what  will  be  experienced  throughout  by  the  reader  of  his  book, 
and  deserved  by  himself  To  the  end  of  his  journey  he  keeps  on 
repeating  his  slips  and  his  falls,  blundering  frequently  by  rule,  and 
fully  as  often  through  ignorance  or  stupidity. 

**  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  lutrod,,  p.  xxis. 


1856.]  Blakeys  History  of  Logic.  519 

In  the  general  remarks  on  the  historical  development  of  reasoning 
aptitudes  among  men,  -whereby  the  intellect  of  Greece  vras  prepared 
for  the  construction  and  reception  of  a  speculative  theory  of  the 
reasoning  process,  'Sh.  Blakey  inaugurates  his  subject  Avith  a  copi- 
ous succession  of  blunders.  The  same  obliquity  of  view,  which 
prevented  him  from  making  any  distinction  between  logic  and 
metaphysics,  or  between  logic  as  a  science  and  logic  as  an  art,  or 
from  apprehending  these  distinctions  when  made  by  others,  pre- 
vents him  also  from  perceiving  any  essential  difference  between  the 
various  modes  of  procuring  assent.  He  uses  the  word  reasoning  to 
denote  indifferently  any  of  the  processes  by  which  belief  is  gener- 
ated; and  with  him  revelation,  imagination,  persuasion,  argumenta- 
tion, testimony,  authority,  and  assumption,  might  all  be  equally 
designated  as  reasoning.  He  knows  no  difference  between  their 
respective  uses  and  natures:  everything  appears  reasoning  to  his 
mind  which  is  effected  through  the  agency  of  reason ;  and  if  his 
erroneous  conception  were  rigidly  pushed  to  its  legitimate  conclu- 
sion, a  paralogism  and  a  solid  argument  would  bo  equally  conclusive. 
Opinion  would  be  knowledge,  fancy  would  be  truth,  and  sentiment 
would  be  demonstration.  All  the  lines  of  demarcation  drawn  so 
ingeniously  by  Logic  are  thus  obliterated,  and  truth  is  not  merely 
left  without  a  criterion  of  any  sort,  but  without  any  distinctive 
property  or  characteristic.  It  is  the  same  pernicious  heresy  under 
a  new  form  which  was  elaborated  by  the  Greek  sophists,  and  is 
very  naturally  entertained  without  suspicion  by  one  who  abjures 
the  Logic  which  was  invented  for  its  exposure  and  refutation,  and 
proved  sufficient  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  unjust  to  Mr.  Blakey  to  permit  it  to  be  supposed  that  he 
either  consciously  adopts  this  heresy,  or  accepts  its  consequences. 
Such  perspicuity  is  entirely  foreign  to  his  intellectual  habits.  But 
if  on  any  occasion  there  is  propriety  in  reasoning  from  the  effect  to 
the  cause,  or  from  the  language  to  the  thought,  we  may  safely  infer 
Mr.  Blakey's  creed  to  be  such  as  we  have  alleged,  from  the  abundant 
and  pointed  illustrations  which  his  practice  affords.  In  his  Intro- 
duction he  had  stated  a  fiict  with  which  we  were  wholly  unacquainted, 
that  in  certain  ages  of  this  world,  a  warrior  ventured  not  to  battle 
without  Logic :  in  his  first  chapter  he  identifies  Logic  with  rlietoric 
and  sophistry.*  Dialectics,  oratory,  and  Logic,  a^ipear  virtually  the 
same  thing  to  him.f  With  philosophy  in  all  its  branches— ontology, 
cosmology,  psychology,  deontology',  and  teleology— he  constantly 
confounds  Logic.     Parmenides  is  treated  as  a  logician,  because  he 

'^  Historical  Sketch  of  Logic,  Introduction,  p.  xvii ;  oh.  i,  p.  3. 

■f"  Ibid.,  oh.  i,  pp.  4,  5. 


620  Blakcy's  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

wrote  on  nature,  and  discussed  the  principles  relative  to  philosophic 
truth,  under  the  heads  of  opinion  and  certainty;*  and  "  Zcno  showed 
himself  a  great  logician,"t  apparently  for  no  better  reason  than  that 
"all  his  reasonings  proceeded  from  general  principles,"  and  "ho 
earned  the  form  of  the  dialogue  to  a  great  extent."  If  these  be 
sufficient  indications  of  the  logical  character,  it  is  inconsistent  to 
treat  Lord  Bacon  afterward  as  a  logician,  because,  so  far  as  his 
tenets  were  at  all  distinctive,  he  proposed  that  scientific  reasoning 
should  proceed  from  particular  instances,  and  he  manifested  no  par- 
tiality for  dialogue,  which  is  the  peculiar  instrument  of  sophistry, 
though  not  always  or  necessarily  sophistical. 

It  is  very  unfortunate  that  absurdity  should  be  imposed  as  an 
inevitable  penalty  on  every  man  who  will  gravely  undertake  to 
write  books  on  subjects  with  which  he  is  unacquainted,  and  discuss 
abstruse  matters  without  any  precise  ideas  of  the  particular  thing 
they  are  writing  about ;  and  that  nonsense  should  inevitably  result 
from  the  attempt  to  communicate  to  others  what  is  still  unintel- 
ligible to  the  instructor.  ]Iad  the  laws  of  the  intellectual  universe 
been  differently  constituted,  Mr.  Blakey,  even  with  this  book  in  his 
band,  might  have  escaped  detection,  and  passed  muster,  perhaps, 
as  a  logician,  possibly  as  a  man  of  sense.  As  it  is,  the  revela- 
tions which  he  vouchsafes  to  us  are  unfavourable  to  either  supposi- 
tion. 

Had  he  known  an3'thirjg  of  Aristotle  from  actual  perusal,  Instead 
of  being  restricted  to  the  stud}'  of  the  miserable  misrepresentations 
of  Dr.  Held — the  only  author  on  whom  he  relies  for  his  account  of 
the  Aristotelian  Logic — he  might  have  discovered  his  own  igno- 
rance. Had  he  possessed  any  familiarity  with  the  great  scholiasts, 
or  the  neglected  schoolmen,  he  might  have  been  alarmed  at  the 
an-ay  of  unsuspected  learning  which  discountenanced  his  foil}'-.  He 
would  then  have  been  protected  against  the  commission  of  such  mis- 
apprehensions and  mistakes  as  he  is  constantly  guilty  of  in  regard 
to  the  elementary  doctrines  of  Logic.  A'aluable  as  Crete's  History 
of  Greece  may  be,  he  would  not  have  rendered  the  most  original, 
appropriate,  and  sensible  portion  of  his  sketch  V)f  Greek  Logic,  the 
account  v.hich  he  borrows  from  Grote,  of  Zcno  and  the  Sophists, 
who  lived  before  Logic  had  any  distinct  existence,  or  any  thooiy  of 
Logic  had  been  proposed.  If  lac  had  even  appreciated  the  shreds  he 
took  from  Grote  to  cover  his  own  nakedness,  he  would  not  have 
spoken  of  the  Sophists,  who  are  so  admirably  and  justly  character- 
ized by  that  historian,  as  "  a  class  of  persons  set  apart  for  amy  serv- 
ice in  the  logical  art,"t  especially  when  intending  to  cite  afterward 

°  Hist.  Sketch  vf  Logic,  cb.  i,  p.  5.     f  Ibkl,  ch.  i,  p.  C.      |  Ibid.,  ch.  i,  p.  12. 


1856.]  Blakeys  History  of  Logic.  521 

Aristotle's  claim  of  Logic,  or,  at  least,  of  its  essential  parts,  as  his 
own  peculiar  construction,  and  his  criticism  of  the  Sophists  as  per- 
sons ■who  taught  by  example  and  not  by  precept.* 

It  is  difiicult  to  form  a  conception  of  anything  in  the  shape  of 
professed  history  ruder,  bolder,  more  flimsy,  or  inappropriate  than 
the  notice  bestOAved  upon  the  Sophists,  and  on  Socrates  and  Plato. 
The  only  thing  Avhich  does  surpass  it  in  these  unenviable  qualities 
is  this  author's  account  of  the  logical  labours  of  Aristotle.  The  reply, 
•which  is  given  to  the  question  propounded  by  himself,  "  Vi'hat  v,m3 
the  logical  system  of  the  Sophists?"  affords  a  sample  of  his  habit 
of  substituting  loose  verbiage  and  windy  rhetoric  for  the  expression 
of  definite  views  or  discriminating  criticism.  He  does  not  deem  it 
necessary  to  give  any  exposition  of  their  aims  and  procedure,  any 
delineation  of  their  peculiarities,  any  history  of  their  mode  of  reason- 
ing, in  this  historical  sketch,  but  is  perfectly  satisfied  with  vague 
denunciation,  not  of  their  errors  even,  but  of  the  alleged  consequcncea 
of  their  errors.  Vfe  need  scarcely  say  that  he  is  as  far  from- 
appreciating  their  characteristics,  as  he  is  from  knowing  what  Logic 
is,  when  he  speaks  of  anything  but  the  most  rudimentary  concep- 
tions of  that  science  in  connection  with  the  name  of  the  Sophists. 
The  answer  which  he  makes  to  his  inquiry  does,  hov.'ever,  furnish  to 
our  hands  an  appropriate  portraiture  of  his  own  book.  "  Declama- 
tion without  knowledge,  subtilty  without  comprehension,  paradoxical 
without  ingenuity,  a  display  of  the  forms  without  the  essence  of 
reasoning,  a  fruitless  and  barren  exercise  of  the  noblest  powers  of 
the  intellect  undertaken,  not  for  the  high  and  noble  purpose  of 
extending,  but  of  checking  the  progress  of  sound  knowledge  and 
truth  among  mankind. ''f  This  severe  censure  is  not  applloaldc 
generically  to  the  Sophists,  but  it  is  specifically  to  Mr.  Blakey.  To 
the  Sophists  it  can  be  applied  only  in  undiscriminating  ignorance,  for 
ho  might  have  learned  from  Grote.  whom  he  quotes  on  the  subject, 
that  the  S'jphists  were  distinguished  from  each  other  by  many 
diversities ;  they  had  no  Logic,  only  scant  and  incipient  dialectics ; 
they  had  neither  uniform  method  nor  doctrine;  they  never  consti- 
tuted a  sect,  and  not  even  a  class,  except  so  far  as  they  professed  to 
be  teachers  of  miscellaneous  knowledge. 

Of  Socrates,  Mr.  Blakey  says,  that  in  the  course  of  his  elementary 
instruction  in  Logic,  which  did  not  yet  exist  as  a  theory,  and  which 
he  was  highly  instrumental  in  inaugurating  as  a  conscious  pro- 
cedure, he  imbibed  the  doctrine  of  hearing  both  sides  of  an  argument.| 
This  doctrine  is  indispensable  in  the  satisfactory  discharge  of  the 

*•  Ari3tot.  Elench :  Soph.,  ch.xxs.iv,  cited  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  ii,  pp.  4S,  49. 
t  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  i,  p.  IG.  |  Ibid.,  ch.  i,  p.  17. 

Fourth  Seuies,  Vol.  YIIL— 33 


622  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

duties  of  life,  in  the  practice  of  justice,  in  the  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge, and  in  the  sober  pursuit  of  truth ;  but,  however  necessary  in 
these  and  other  respects,  it  is  extra-logical,  like  the  greater  part  of 
this  volume.  The  estimation  of  evidence,  the  counterbalancing  of 
probabilities,  and  the  discrimination  between  the  diverse  significances 
of  different  facts,  arc  urgent  duties,  and  essential  to  the  proper  con- 
duct of  the  understanding;  but  they  belong  to  other  provinces  of 
speculation,  and  are  subject  to  their  own  special  rules.  Indeed, 
the  very  sense  in  which  the  term  argument  is  here  used  by  Mr. 
Blakey  is  extra-logical:  it  is  put  for  the  thing  to  be  proved,  not  for 
the  formal  process  of  reasoning  by  which  it  is  proved,  or  the  separate 
links  in  this  formal  process,  which  is  its  sole  logical  meaning.  He 
confounds  the  prohanduvi  with  the  organon  probandi — the  fatted 
calf  with  the  butcher's  knife.  He  is  betrayed  into  this  blunder  by 
not  perceiving  the  fallacy  latent  in  equivocal  words ;  and  from  this 
error  he  might  have  been  preserved  by  a  slight  acquaintance  with 
that  formal  logic,  which  is  the  essence  of  Logic,  but  whicli,  with 
a  large  class  of  hasty,  though  ingenious  speculators,  he  afiects  to 
despise.  He  fails  to  detect  this  fallacy  in  consequence  of  attempt- 
ing to  reason  on  subjects  of  abstract  and  precise  philosophy,  without 
distinguishing  between  the  scientific  and  the  vulgar  accepto^tion  of 
the  terms  which  he  employs. 

AYe  pass  over  many  minor  misrepresentations  in  regard  to  Soc- 
rates and  the  Bocratic  method,  and  oidy  note  the  omission  of  the 
most  important  service  rendered  by  him  to  logical  science,  in  the 
'development  of  the  inductive  process,  and  the  introduction  of  exact 
■definitions,  a  service  ascribed  to  him  by  Aristotle,*  and  which  ought 
to  have  been  mentioned  in  a  history  of  Logic,  however  brief.  But 
there  are  other  blunders  clustering  together  in  one  short  paragraph 
toward  the  close  of  the  chapter,  Avhich  we  cannot  thus  disregard,  because 
they  exemplify  the  rashness  of  statement,  the  unfamiliarity  with  his 
;  subject,  and  the  vagueness  of  view,  which  arc  habitual  with  this  writer. 

"We  are  told  that  "  Socrates  was  guided  in  his  logical  processes 
by  that  which  has  latterly  assumed  the  name  of  common  senscyy 
There  are  here  almost  as  many  blunders  as  there  arc  separate  words, 
though  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  point  them  all  out,  as  some  are 
trivial.  Common  sense,  as  here  used,  conveys  an  allusion,  direct 
and  inevitable,  whether  intended  or  not,  to  a  modern  scheme  of 
philosophy  identified  with  the  school  of  the  Scotch  metaphysicians. 
it  is  obvious  that  Socrates  was  not  guided  by  this  system  of  psychol- 
'Ogy.  That  good,  hard,  practical,  sound  common  sense  presided 
•over  his  whole  argumentation,  and  preeminently  characterized  the 

*  Arist.  Metapb.,  lib.  xiii,  cL.  iv,  p.  1078.        t  Ilist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  i,  p.  24- 


1856.]  Blaket/s  History  of  Logic.  523 

man,  is  inclisputaljle ;  but  this  is  an  entirely  different  proposition. 
That  it  guickd-his  logical  processes,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  appears 
to  be  here  alleged  to  have  done,  may  be  doubted;  inasmuch  as  the 
Socratic  interrogation  and  the  Socratic  procedure  vrerc  the  fruits  of 
original  geuius,  and  individual  pecularities,  very  foreign  from  the 
common  sense  of  that  period.  But  this  Socratic  genius  and  method 
are  equally  foreign  from  any  modern  practice,  and  the  spirit  wiiich 
inspired  and  regulated  them  was  particularly  consonant  to  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  requirements  of  that  day,  and  to  the  eristic  logom- 
achies then  prevalent;  but  they  are  not  in  harmony  with  modern 
usages.  ]\Ioreover,  it  is  hot  latterly,  but  of  old  time,  that  the  term 
common  sense  has  been  employed  to  denote  what  we  now  understand 
by  it  in  ordinary  parlance  ;*  and  its  technical  meaning  has  been 
already  shown  to  be  inappropriate  on  the  present  occasion.  Thus, 
within  the  compass  of  these  few  words,  so  innocent  and  plausible  at 
first  sight,  more  blunders  are  compacted  together  than  any  deliberate 
ingenuity  could  readily  have  devised. 

But  Mr.  Blakcy  is  pertinacious  in  blundering.  He  hastens  to 
add  that  Socrates  "  was  certainly  the  first  logician  who  really  con- 
sidered it  [common  sense]  as  an  indispensable  element  in  the  art  of 
ordinary  ratiocination."  We  might  take  exception  to  the  designa- 
tion of  Socrates  as  a  logician  in  this  connexion ;  but  it  might  be 
hypercritical  to  do  so.  He  was  not,  however,  the  first  to  regard 
common  sense,  in  the  signification  of  sound  judgment,  as  necessary 
to  correct  reasoning,  for  there  is  no  evidence  to  this  effect,  and 
human  nature  would  suggest  exactly  the  reverse.  Nor  is  there 
anything  to  show  that  he  did  so  consider  it  either  in  terms,  or  in  any 
peculiar  meaning  attached  to  it  by  modern  schools.  Moreover,  the 
implied  distinction  between  ordinary  and  extraordinary  ratiocination 
could  scarcely  present  itself  to  the  mind  of  a  logician,  or  of  any  one 
conversant  with  logical  terms  and  their  signification. 

Mr.  Blakcy  sup]>oscs  that  Cicero's  remark,  that  Socrates  had  first 
brought  down  philosophy  from  heaven  to  earth,  is  an  evidence  that 
he  was  the  first  logician  that  had  regarded  common  sense  as  an 
indispensable  element  in  the  art  of  reasoning.  This  is  a  strange 
inference;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  detect  any  connexion  between  prem- 
ises and  conclusions.  But  Mr.  Blakcy  either  did  not  know,  or 
had  forgotten,  the  remark  of  Cicero ;  for,  with  his  observation  before 
his  eyes,  he  never  could  have  made  this  statement.  We  had  sup- 
posed that  eveiy  one  knew  that  this  eulogy  was  bestowed  on  Soc- 
rates, in  consequence  of  his  having  renounced  the  vague  physical  in- 
quiries about  topics  apparently  beyond  the  reach  of  human  knowledge, 
"  See  Sir  'Wm.  Hamilton,  Roid's  'Works,  i\ppcndi.T,  note  A,  p.  757 ;  pp.  774,  776. 


524  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

and  having  confined  his  speculations  to  moral  questions  and  practical 
subjects.  This  explanation  is  necessarily  forced  upon  the  mind  by 
the  language  of  Plato's  Pliwdon;*  but  it  is  also  T>-hat  Cicero  expressly 
asserts.  His  declaration  is,  that  Socrates  first  called  philosophy  from 
heaven,  established  it  in  cities,  introduced  it  in  our  homes,  and  com- 
pelled it  to  inquire  about  life  and  manners,  and  things  good  and  evil.f 
Xenophon  is  equally  misrepresented,  or  equally  misunderstood  with 
Cicero,  by  this  erudite  and  exact  historian,  who  continues  his  appre- 
ciation of  Socrates  by  observing  that '"  Xenophon  likewise  informs  us, 
that  when  he  wished  to  form  a  decision  on  any  subject,  his  reasonings 
always  proceeded  from  propositions  generally  assented  to  or  under- 
stood," 33efore  examining  wliether  this  is  precisely  what  Xenophon 
did  say,  we  may  remark  that  any  other  mode  of  reasoning,  or  argu- 
mentation, which  logical  reasoning  must  bo,  is  inconceivable.  ^V"o 
cannot  apprehend  the  possibility  of  any  valid  or  even  plausible 
reasoning  from  premises  not  understood,  or  not  supposed  to  be  fixed 
by  general  assent.  But  the  great  error  of  the  ancient  philosophers 
vras,  as  has  often  been  noted,  that  these  propositions,  or  kocvul  hvoiaL, 
were  too  loosely  taken  from  the  vague  and  undefined  notions  current 
among  the  vulgar,  and  were  not  themselves  carefully  sifted,  scru- 
tinized, and  tested  before  being  employed  as  premises.  This  rigid 
examination  of  fundamental  ideas,  in  the  subjects  to  which  he 
devoted  his  attention,  was  a  marked  peculiarity  of  Socrates;  and 
though  he  did  proceed  from  matters  generally  admitted,  his  method 
was  to  show  the  invalidity  of  vulgar  doctrines  and  principles,  by 
exliibiting  the  want  of  harmony  and  consistency  between  positions 
which  equally  received  the  general  assent.  This  course  was  pursued, 
not  to  arrive  at  a  decision,  but  to  exhibit  the  unreasonableness  of 
the  confidence  generally  entertained  in  regard  to  the  unchallenged 
doctrines  of  the  popular  belief,  and  thus  awaken  sedulous  inquiry 
into  the  foundations  of  even  the  most  firmly  credited  articles  of 
faith.  Socrates  did  constautl}'  refer,  in  all  his  irony  and  endless 
interrogation,  to  propositions  generally  assented  to ;  but  it  was  not 
for  the  purpose  of  either  arriving  at  a  definite  decision,  or  of  found- 
ing on  them  a  regular  train  of  deductive  reasoning.  His  aim  and 
his  procedure  were  both  very  different  from  what  is  imagined  by 
Mr.  Blakey,  who  attributes  to  him  nothing  distinctive,  and  nothing 
but  what  is  practised  habitually  by  the  ignorant  and  the  learned,  the 
boor  and  the  philosopher.     It  might  naturally  be  inferred,  without 

°  Plat.  rhivJoD,  ch.  xlv,  xWi. 

t  "Socrates  autem  primus  pliilosopliiam  dcvocavit  e  ccelo,  ct  in  urbibus  collo- 
cavit,  et  in  domes  ctiam  iutroduxit,  et  cccgit  de  vita  et  moribus  rebusqus  bonis 
et  malia  qua'rero." — Cic.  Tusc.  Disp.,  lib.  v,  ch.  iv,  §  10. 


1856.]  Blakeijs  History  of  Logic.  525 

any  inspection  of  the  text,  that  Xenophon  furnished  no  authority 
for  Mr.  Blakey's  allegation;  but.  in  order  to  do  full  justice  to  both 
parties,  we  shall  endeavour  to  find  out  what  Xenophon  did  say. 
In  the  whole  chapter  to  which  reference  is  made,  there  is  no  allusion 
to  the  formation  of  decisions,  nor  to  reasoning  from  fundamental 
premises,  nor  to  the  choice  of  propositions.  The  object  of  the 
chapter  is  stated  to  be,  to  show  that  association  with  Socrates 
rendered  his  followers  more  skilful  in  dialectics  ;*  that  is  to  say,  in 
captious  or  eristic  reasoning,  for  it  may  not  be  needful  to  inform 
others,  though  it  may  bo  necessarj'  to  assure  IMr.  Blakey,  that  Logic 
and  dialectics  arc  not  identical  terms.  In  the  particular  passage 
alluded  to  by  our  historian,  Xenophon  says  that  when  iSocrates 
himself  discoursed  on  any  subject,  he  proceeded  through,  not  fro7n, 
allegations  most  habitually  admitted,  thinking  this  essential  to 
security  in  reasoning.!  Any  one  acquainted  with  the  Socratic 
peculiarities  will  perceive  that  the  illustrations  employed  by  Socrates, 
rather  than  any  propositions  or  premises,  are  here  indicated.  And 
this  is  confirmed  by  what  immediately  precedes  this  sentence. 
Xenophon  exemplifies  the  manner  in  which  Socrates  dealt  with 
disputants,  who,  like  Mv.  Blakey,  were  both  ignorant  and  con- 
fident in  regard  to  the  matters  they  undertook  to  maintain,  lie 
tells  us  that  Socrates  constantly  recalled  the  discussion  to  the 
original  hypothesis  ;.|  he  shows  us  how  he  brought  out  the  incon- 
pistencies  involved  in  the  first  statement  by  illustrations  drawn  from 
common  life,  with  which  all  were  familiar,  and  adds,  that  by  this 
recurrence  or  doubling  on  his  tracks,  the  truth  began  to  make  itself 
manifest  to  his  antagonists  even.§  This  is  in  entire  harmony  with 
what  we  know  to  have  been  the  practice  of  Socrates ;  but  it  is  very 
different  from  Mr.  Blakey's  representations,  which  are  utterly  at 
variance  with  the  habitual  irony  and  sceptical  method  of  that  acute 
speculator,  to  whom  the  remark  was  most  grossly  inapplicable,  that 
"he  always  took  liis  stand  on  first  principles,  and  felt  dissaiisficd 
with  mere  logical  forms."  It  would  be  much  more  correct  to  say 
that  he  never  took  his  stand  on  first  principles,  and  in  all  his  cross- 
questionings  was  satisfied  with  the  results  attained  by  the  steady 
application  of  his  dialectical  method  alone.    We  doubt  whether  it  is 

•^  'flr  6i  Ka}  Sia?.£K7LK(jr(povg  i^jo'tEt  rov^  cvpovtoc,  rreipdffnuai  xal  rwro  ?.iyeiv. 
— Mem.  iv,  vi,  §  1. 

f  'O-o-re  6i-  al'Tor  re  7ij  /.6}o  disSiot,  ^ra  rC'v  fiu?-i(yTa  oiin7.nyovuh'uv  f-opeve-o, 
voiML^uv  TavTTjv  ua6u./.eicv  diai  ?.6yov. — Mem.  iv,  vi,  §  lo, 

X  •  .  ■  irzl  r}/v  v~uOiciv  l-av^/yev  av  -uvra  ruv  7Jjyov  u6c  ~ur-  .  .  .  — Mem.  iv, 
Vi.  §  13. 

§  OvTo)  (5f  ruv  ?.6}tJi'  I'avayouiruv  Kal  rot^  uvrO.kyovaiv  alrolc  davtoov  ty^jrero 
ti^'f.yjOi^. — Mem.  iv,  vi,  §  U. 


526  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

possible  to  trace  to  Socrates  the  employment  of  a  single  first  prin- 
ciple. We  doubt  very  much  -wbethcr,  in  his  day,  there  was  any  -vvord 
in  the  Greek  langua^^e  for  a  logical  first  principle,  or  any  such  con- 
ception; and -we  are  very  certain  that  his  dialectical  method  was  the 
characteristic,  if  not  the  essential  portion,  of  the  Socratic  philosophy. 

It  would  thus  appear  that  JMr.  Blakey  is  guilty  of  blundering 
egregiously  on  every  count  in  this  indictment,  and  many  counts 
have  been  intentionally  omitted;  yet  the  number  which  we  have 
handled  is  surprisingly  large  to  be  included  in  one  brief  paragraph 
of  twelve  lines.  "What  respect  can  be  paid  to  the  opinions  of  a  man, 
what  reliance  placed  on  the  testimony  of  an  historian,  who  is  so  ob- 
viously deficient  in  the  requisite  learning,  and  in  acquaintance  with 
his  subject ;  and  who  is  so  eminently  incompetent  to  handle  even  the 
isolated  and  least  obscure  portions  of  his  task"?  There  is  certainly 
ample  accessible  information  in  regard  to  the  character  and  career 
of  Socrates,  but  Islv.  Blakey  does  not  avail  himself  of  it.  Disputes 
and  diversities  of  opinion  have  arisen  with  respect  to  the  estimation 
of  both,  but  Mr.  JBiakey's  blunders  seem  connected  with  points  about 
which  there  is  little  or  no  disagreement. 

It  may  be  thought  that  we  have  dwelt  too  long  on  this  series  of 
errors,  and  have  used  a  thunderbolt  to  crush  a  fly ;  but  we  have  been 
in  no  hurry  to  proceed  "  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land."  There  are 
too  many  impediments  and  stun^ibling-blocks  in  the  way  to  render 
haste  either  expedient  or  agreeable.  Keither  is  it  our  purpose  to 
examine  into  the  general  history  of  Logic,  nor  to  discuss  Mr.  Blakey's 
views  or  representations,  except  only  so  far  as  is  needful  to  show  his 
utter  incompetence  to  become  the  historian  of  Logic,  and  the  unvror- 
thiness  of  his  views  to  receive  any  respectful  consideration  or  credit 
at  all.  We  are  desirous  of  proving  that  he  is  hopelessly  lost  in  a 
wilderness  of  errors,  where  it  is  dangerous  to  folIoAV  him ;  and  do  not, 
therefore,  undertake  the  endless  and  profitless  task  of  enumeratincr, 
exposing,  au'l  correcting  any  lai'gc  porcion  of  the  separate  errors 
themselves.  AVe  wish  only  to  prove  to  general  satisfaction  that  a 
dangerous  swamp,  covered  over  with  tangled  and  rank  vegetation, 
is  spread  out  before  our  feet ;  and  we  are  not  particularly  solicitous 
about  determining  what  species  of  juniper,  cypress,  Crataegus,  cran- 
berry, or  other  marsh  product,  enter  into  the  composition*  of  the 
dense  thicket.  Thus  our  purpose  may  be  satisfied  by  the  inspec- 
tion of  the  outskirts ;  a  dozen  pages  may  afford  all  the  indication 
we  desire,  as  well  as  the  whole  volume ;  and  it  is  of  very  little  con- 
sequence whether  the  specimens  be  selected  from  the  beginning,  the 
middle,  or  the  end  of  the  book.  .We  have  devoted  ourselves  princi- 
pally to  the  contemplation  of  the  commencement,  simply  because  it 


1856.]  Blaket/s  History  of  Logic.  ,  627 

came  first.  We  might  have  taken  that  part  of  the  treatise  for  our 
dissection  in  preference  to  any  other,  because  occupied  with  the 
simplest  and  easiest  period  of  the  history  of  Logic,  and,  therefore, 
more  Hkely  to  be  satisfactorily  treated  than  the  more  difficult  periods. 
But  of  this  we  did  not  think.  If,  however,  the  easier  part  is  so 
handled  as  to  exhibit  only  a  tissue  of  blunders  and  absurdities,  we 
may  expect  the  more  complicated  portions  not  to  be  discussed  in  a 
more  satisfactory  manner.  We  proceed  to  show  by  a  few  examples 
that  this  expectation  is  not  disappointed. 

Passing  over  the  notice  of  Plato,  which  treats  of  his  philosophical 
and  not  of  his  logical  doctrines,  in  a  very  superficial  and  erroneous 
manner,  and  is  more  remarkable  for  the  recurrence  of  purel}'  nonsen- 
sical expressions  than  for  any  other  definite  quality,  we  arrive  at  his 
characterization  of  Aristotle  and  his  Logic.  In  any  history  of  this 
branch  of  learning,  the  Stagyrite,  as  inventor  and  constructor  of  the 
science,  and  as  founder  of  the  school,  should  occupy  a  distinguished 
position,  and  great  care  should  be  exercised  in  giving  a  full,  accu- 
rate, and  complete  development  of  the  doctrine  which  he  laid  down. 
Whether  the  syllogism  be  regarded  as  the  essential  element  of  Logic, 
or  as  a  cumbrous  and  artificial  expedient;  whether  the  history  be 
■written  by  a  genuine  peripatetic,  or  by  a  venerating  believer  in 
Dr.  Watts,  Aristotle  is  entitled  to  the  consideration  which  belongs  to 
the  central  figure  in  the  general  picture  of  logical  progress.  All 
that  Logic  is,  is  conceived  to  be,  or  can  ever  become,  exhibits  itself 
in  the  form  of  assent  to,  comment  on,  development  of,  or  dissent 
from,  the  positions  and  teaching  of  Aristotle.  Even  Mr.  Grote,  who 
seems  to  have  been  the  principal  authority  consulted  by  Mr.  Plakcy 
in  preparing  his  outline  of  ancient  Logic,  might  have  taught  him  the 
necessity  of  concentrating  his  attention  upon  this  great  man.*  We 
have  every  possible  respect  for  Mr.  Grote  as  the  ablest  historian  of 
ancient  Greece;  but  .he  is  not  an  authority  for  the  history  of  Logic, 
and  belongs  to  a  school  which  renounces  the  syllogism  ana  ;ill  for- 
mal Logic.  The  latter  consideration  adds  greater  weight  to  his  tes- 
timony, and  should  have  rendered  Mr.  Blakey  more  attentive  to  it. 
Mr.  Blakey,  however,  does  recognise  Aristotle  as  "  one  of  the  most 
prominent  landmarks  of  logical  science  or  art,'"i  though  he  does  not 
enter  into  the  examination  of  his  labours  with  that  fulness  which  this 
admission  would  seem  to  require.  He  is,  ho\YOver,  equally,  though 
not  proportionately,  negligent  of  Mill  and  Sir  William  Hamilton,  the 
two  most  eminent  living  logicians. J 

°  Hist,  of  Greece,  Part  I,  ch.  liviii,  voL  viii,  p.  430. 
jHist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  ii,  p.  31. 
jlbid.,  ch.  xxii,  pp.  -101-473,  pp.  459-401. 


528  ♦  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

Instead  of  a  full,  accurate,  and  searching  analysis  of  the  Organon 
of  Aristotle,  and  the  explanations  of  his  doctrine  afforded  by  the 
copious  labour  of  his  scholiasts,  Mr.  Blakcy  promises  only  a  plain 
statement  of  their  aim  and  character,  and  performs  his  promise  by 
giving  us  a  v,-retched  mutilation  of  Keid's  -wretched  account.  lie 
postpones  nearly  all  the  considerations  which  his  subject  urgently 
suggests,  and  never  resumes  the  task  -which  he  has  deferred.  Even 
in  -what  he  undertakes  to  perform,  scanty  as  it  is,  and  more  appro- 
priate to  the  pui-})oses  of  an  empty  declaimer  than  of  a  diligent  his- 
torian, he  is  very  far  from  redeeming  his  pledge.  There  is  nothing 
•whatever  in  this  chapter  to  indicate  to  us  the  aim  of  the  Organon, 
^yhich  it  is  very  important  to  know,  as  it  reveals  the  urgent  practi- 
cal value  which  appertained  to  it  at  the  time  of  its  composition. 
This  aim  we  conceive  to  have  been,  to  furnish  an  effectual  bar/ier  to 
the  desultory  and  corroding  disputations  of  the  Sophists  and  Tran- 
scendentalists,  by  determining  the  invariable  conditions  of  correct 
reasoning.  And,  let  us  add,  that  this  aim  was  in  a  great  measure 
realized  by  the  method  proposed  by  Aristotle,  and  that,  so  far  as  it 
is  unsatisfied  in  these  days,  it  is  the  consequence  of  the  renunciation 
of  that  formal  Logic  which  ^Ir.  Blakey  regards  with  such  unappre- 
ciating  indifTereuce,  while  reserving  his  admiration  for  that  vague, 
informal,  unformed,  or  deformed  Logic,  about  which  he  employs  his 
loose  and  Avindy  rhetoric. 

If  the  character  of  the  xVristotelian  Logic  can  be  learned  from  the 
bald,  unsymmetrical,  and  unenlightened  synopsis  afforded  in  this 
sketch  of  Mr.  Blakcy's,  it  must  be  discovered  by  more  penetrating 
eyes  and  much  more  suggestive  apprehension  than  we  pretend  to 
possess.  The  briefest  epitome,  like  a  meagre  table  of  contents,  is 
all  the  information  which  is  vouchsafed  to  us  relative  to  the  Orga- 
non of  Aristotle,  and  even  this  breaks  ofT  abruptly  into  a  narrow  and 
unintelligent  statement  of  his  ontological  tenets,  which  are  only 
slightly  connected  v.-ith  his  logical  speculations.  Attenuated  as  is 
this  outline,  it  is  formed  out  of  the  most  flimsy  and  discredited  ma- 
terials. Instead  of  consulting  cither  the  original  text,  which  we  will 
venture  to  say  he  could  not  understand,  or  the  able  and  lucid  sum- 
maries annexed  to  St.  IIil-aire"s  translation  of  the  Organon,*  a  work 
cited  in  the  i\ppendi.x,  if  not  in  the  text  of  this  history  of  Logic,  he 
has  starved  down  Reid's  clumsy  skeleton  into  a  shadow,  and  exhib- 
ited that  as  a  representation  of  the  Aristotelian  Logic.  Iieid's 
account  of  the  Organon  has  always  been  regarded  with  contempt  by 

*  There  is  even  a  more  satisfactory  analysis  of  the  Orcranon  in  the  second  part 
of  St.  Ililaire's  prize  essay,  De  la  Logique,  but  this  earlier  vrork  is  unkno-svn  to 
Mr.  Blakey. 


1856.]  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  529 

every  one  acquainted  with  Aristotle's  own  works ;  and  though  this 
general  estimation  might  not  have  been  known  to  Mr.  Blakey,  he 
might  have  been  deterred  from  using  such  an  authority  if  he  had 
read  the  criticism  of  St.  Hilaire,  which  only  repeats  the  general 
sentiment  of  scholars  and  logicians.'-*" 

Besides  the  narrowness  and  inaccuracy  which  attend  this  depend- 
ence upon  a  prejudiced  and  ignorant  epitomist,  Mr.  Blakoy  revives, 
without  any  suspicion  of  what  he  is  doing,  the  exploded  errors  which 
had  been  long  current  till  dissipated  by  recent  investigation,  lie 
refers  without  scruple  to  the  statement  of  Diogenes  Laertius,  that 
Aristotle  had  written  many  other  works  on  the  subjects  to  which 
the  books  of  the  Organon  are  devoted,  but  that  they  are  now  lost.  '- 
This  statement  is  subjected  to  a  rigid  examination  by  St.  llilairc, 
and  rejected  as  entirely  unworthy  of  credit.!  Several  essays  on 
logical,  as  on  other  topics,  are,  indeed,  mentioned  by  Aristotle  him- 
self, and  his  scholiasts,  which  arc  not  now  found  in  his  works  as 
distinct  treatises  under  those  titles.§  But  this  can  justify  neither 
the  statement  of  Mr.  Blakey,  nor  of  Diogenes  Laertius,  which  must 
have  arisen  in  the  first  instance  from  such  a  confusion  as  occasioned 
the  long  catalogues  of  the  works  of  Roger  Bacon. |j  In  both  instan- 
ces, parts  of  complete  works  being  cited  familiarly  under  distinct 
titles,  led  to  the  belief  that  these  were  in  each  instance  separate 
works.  It  may  be  confidently  asserted  against  Mr.  Blakey,  with  Di- 
ogenes Laertius  at  his  back,  that  the  Organon  contains  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  Aristotle,  that  it  has  descended  to  us  without  serious  mutilation, 
and  that  no  important  portion  of  his  logical  writings  has  been  lost. 

The  mistake  just  exposed  is  not  the  only  vulgar  blunder  respect- 
ing the  history  of  Aristotle's  productions,  which  has  been  unsuspi- 
ciously reproduced  by  Mr.  Blakey,  after  having  been  effectually  dis- 
sipated by  the  researches  of  scholars  with  whose  labours  he  is  un- 
acquainted himself  The  old  story  is  repeated  with  great  unction 
of  the  long  inhumation  of  Aristotle's  works,  particularly  specified  as 
"  his  philosophical  works,  including,  of  course,  his  logical  ones  ;"^  of 

■^ "  Reid  s'est  borne  a  fiiire  une  analyse  de  I'Organon,  ou  pour  mieux  dire,  de  ce 
qu'il  prend  pour  TOrganon ;  et  les  erreurs  enormes  dont  ce  travail  est  plein, 
oc  se  justificnt  meme  pas  par  les  preventions  qui  subsistaient,  encore  a  cette 
epoque,  centre  I'ancien  despotisme,"  etc.,  etc.  St.  Hilaire,  Logiquc  d'Aristote, 
Prefaco,  vol.  i,  pp.  cxli,  cxlii. 

fHist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  cli.  ii,  p.  35. 

I  St.  Hilaire,  De  la  Logique  d'Aristote,  Partic  I,  ch.  iii,  pp.  25-30. 
gAristot.  Pr.  .^ualyt.  I,  cli.  xxx;  PJiet.  I,  ch.  ii;  Metaph.  Ill,  ch.  ii;  IX,  ch.  iii. 

Simplic.  ad  lategor.  Alex.  Aphr.  ad  Metaph. 

II  Jebb.  Pnvf.  ad  Opus  Majus,  pp.  xi-xv ;  ed.  Ycnet.,  17o0. 
i[  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  ch.  ii,  pp.  49,  oO. 


630  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

their  concealment  and  supposed  loss ;  of  tlieir  sale  to  Apellicon  of 
Tcos,  (ayLosc  name  Mr.  Blakcy  does  not  know  how  to  spell;)  of 
their  acquisition  by  Sylla,  and  their  publication  by  Tyrannion.  This 
legend  is  told  by  Strabo,  and  reiterated  with  slight  variations  by 
Plutarch  and  Suidas.  It  is  completely  disproved  by  Stahr  in  his 
Aristoteleia,  and  by  St.  Ililaire  in  his  prize  essay,  neither  of  which 
treatises  appear  in  Mr.  Blakey's  Catalogue.  Unfortunately,  this 
luminous  and  faithful  historian  does  not  even  recount  the  myth  cor- 
rectly. He  does  not  give  it  as  it  is  found  in  Strabo,  Plutarch,  or 
Suidas ;  nor  does  he  even  repeat  cither  of  the  accounts  given  by 
Athenceus,  but  he  blends  all  these  together  until  he  produces  an  ut- 
terly absurd  and  ridiculous  narrative.*  He  borrows  from  Athenreus 
the  statement  that  jSeleus  sold  tlie  books  (library)  of  Aristotle  to 
Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  but  he  then  alleges,  what  neither  Athenosus 
nor  anybody  in  their  senses  could  allege,  that  they  were  conveyed 
by  Ptolemy  out  of  his  own  dominion,  to  which  they  had  been  brought, 
and  deposited  by  him  at  Scepsis,  a  city  of  the  Troas ;  the  place 
where  Xeleus  lived,  and  whence  they  had  been  obtained.  There  are 
two  traditions,  entirely  separate  and  distinct,  of  which  fragments  have 
been  preserved  by  Athenceus  ;  one,  the  tradition  recorded  by  Strabo 
and  his  abbreviator,  accounting  for  the  existence  of  the  copy  of 
Apellicon  of  Teos;  the  other,  accounting  for  the  existence  of  a  copy 
of  Aristotle's  works  at  Alexandria,  during  the  period  of  their  sup- 
posed disappearance  at  Scepsis.  ]Mr.  Blakey  selects  neither,  and 
rejects  neither,  but  combines  both,  and  invents  the  silly  fiction  of 
their  having  been  sent  back  by  Ptolemy  to  Scepsis  to  render  this 
combination  possible.  It  is  onl}',  however,  by  a  figure  of  speech 
that  we  can  call  this  an  invention  of  his.  He  borrows  so  habit- 
ually from  others,  and  usually  from  the  Avorst  authorities,  that  we 
suspect  he  is  not  guilty  of  any  originality  even  in  this  exceptional 
instance.  In  1GS2,  Knittelius  wrote  a  book  on  the  Art  of  Lully,  in 
which,  among  other  surprising  lessons,  he  professed  to  teach  "  in- 
geniose  c  lihris  furariyj  Mr.  Blakey  probably  never  encountered 
the  volume,  and  it  would  be  inappropriate  to  apply  the  epithet  "  in- 
geniosc''  to  any  part  of  his  compilation,  but  the  "  ani7nus  furandi" 
we  will  not  call  in  question. 

It  appears,  then,  that  this  story  about  the  loss  of  Aristotle's  writ- 
ings is  incorrect  in  itself,  and  had  been  fully  disproved  before  this 
veracious  history  of  Logic  was  written.     And  it  appears  further 


•»  Strabo,  lib.  xiii,  ch.  i,  pp.  124,  125.     EJ.  Tauclmitz.    Atbcnsei  Deipnos,  lib. 
i,  ch.  iv  ;  vol.  i,  p.  4 ;  lib.  v,  ch.  liii,  p.  33;). 
t  Morhofii  Polybistor.,  I's.  i,  lib.  ii,  ch,  v,  §  oO,  torn,  i,  p.  253. 


1856.]  Blakey's  History  of  Logic.  531 

that  the  recent  historian  has  not  even  told  correctly  the  incorrect 
story  he  intended  to  repeat. 

Mr.  Blakey  is  perhaps  excusable  for  omitting  to  notice,  in  con- 
nexion with  his  double  assignment  of  the  fourth  figure  of  the  syllo- 
gism to  Galen  *  that  this  invention  has  been  disputed,  and  been  re- 
ferred to  Aristotle  himself,  or  at  least  to  one  of  his  disciples,  Theo- 
phrastus  or  Eudemus,  by  no  less  judicious  an  inquirer  than  St. 
Hilaire.t  AYe  mention  the  omission  here  only  as  a  further  exem- 
plification of  the  slovenliness  and  ignorance  -which  havo  attended 
the  composition  of  this  book. 

We  have  not  entered  into  any  discussion  of  the  outline  given  of 
the  Logic  of  Aristotle.  It  is  too  slight  and  insignificant  to  support 
a  discussion,  and  v;e  have  purposely  avoided  all  points  -which  would 
require  long  examination  in  the  exposition  of  the  blundering  process 
of  this  author.  "When  a  history  of  Logic,  correct  in  the  main,  or 
founded  upon  adequate  studies  and  competent  information,  is  pro- 
duced, we  will  then  take  pleasure  in  discussing  the  history  of  Logic. 
Notwithstanding  the  title  of  the  book  under  review,  any  such  labour 
would  be  supei'erogatory  and  inappropriate,  when  much  simpler 
methods  suffice  to  establish  the  utter  Avorthlessness  of  the  present 
volume. 

We  conceive  that  our  thesis  is  suflicicntly  maintained  without 
travelling  any  further  over  this  dreary  road  of  minute  examination 
of  particular  positions.  We  shall  therefore  abandon  this  mode  of 
criticism,  although  there  is  rich  and  ample  material  for  severe  com- 
ment furnished  in  every  subsequent  chapter.  Is  there  not  abund- 
ant evidence  of  Mr.  Blakey's  unfitness  to  become  the  historian  of 
Logic,  afforded  by  the  fact  that  he  despatches  the  great  scholiasts 
and  commentators  on  Aristotle,  including  Alexander  Aphrodisiensis 
and  Galen,  in  two  lines,  and  devotes  a  long  chapter  to  the  influence 
of  Christianity  on  logical  science,  wherein  he  treats  of  revelation 
and  authority,  as  if  these  things  had  anything  to  do  with  Logic,  and 
in  total  ignorance  that  the  determination  of  first  principles  had  been 
expressly  excluded  by  Aristotle  from  the  domain  of  deductive  rea- 
soning? Is  there  not  just  occasion  for  censure  that  Justin  I\Iartyr, 
Athcnagoras,  and  Tatian,  (whose  name  is  spelled  TatienI)  arc  in- 
troduced as  logicians,  while  Andronicus  of  Rhodes,  Locthus  Sido- 
nius,  Ammonius,  David  the  Armenian,  Simplicius,  John  Philoponus, 
and  Joannes  Italus,  are  entirely  or  almost  entirely  unnoticed?  that 
Lanfranc  and  Anselra  are  inserted  in  this  chronicle  of  Logic,  but  Al- 
bertus  Magnus  left  out  ?  that  Lord  Bacon  is  fully  but  feebly  noted,  and 
°  Hist.  Sketch  of  Logic,  oh.  ii,  p.  41,  note ;  ch.  iii,  p.  CJ. 
■j-  De  la  Logique  d'Aristote,  Appendice  ii,  vol.  ii,  pp.  oi2-348. 


532  Blakei/s  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

KogprBacon  unnamed?  These  are,  however,  onlya  few  of  themost  ob- 
vious omissions  among  a  thousand  equally  gross  or  grosser  deficiencies. 

In  this  notice  of  Mr.  Blakey's  work,  we  have  scarcely  raised  any 
objection  to  those  illogical  views  against  Logic  which  have  sprung 
from  Locke,  and  been  adopted  and  extended  by  the  Scotch  school  of 
metaphysics.  It  is  unnecessary  to  state  that  on  this  point  we  are 
adverse  to  thorn  and  to  their  di.?ci})le3.  Their  prejudices  have  pro- 
ceeded from  a  misapprehension  and  exaggeration  of  a  few  isolated 
passages  in  Lord  Bacon;  for  the  general  testimony  of  that  illustri- 
ous man  is  distinctly  and  strongly  in  fiivour  of  Logic  as  expounded 
by  Aristotle,  within  its  legitimate  domain.  Of  this  fact  Mr.  Blakey 
of  course  knows  nothing.  But  we  have  not  raised  the  question 
whether  the  followers  of  Locke  or  the  admirers  of  Aristotle  are 
right  in  this  matter,  because  it  was  unnecessary.  Mr.  Blakey  is  a 
partisan  of  Locke,  ^\''atts,  and  the  Scotch  psychologists,  but  whether 
their  doctrines  are  right  or  wrong,  whether  the  general  position  on 
which  Mr.  Blakey  desires  to  plant  himself  be  tenable  or  not,  he  is 
unacquainted  with  his  subject  in  its  philosophical  and  in  its  histori- 
cal aspects,  and  incompetent  to  treat  it.  This  was  our  thesis,  and 
we  had  no  inclination  to  introduce  any  matter  foreign  to  the  exhi- 
bition of  this  allegation.  So  far  as  ho  and  his  lucubrations  are  con- 
cerned, it  is  a  matter  of  no  moment  whether  we  hold  with  John 
Locke  or  Sir  William  Hamilton,  with  Isaac  Watts  or  Aristotle — 
/  (Powers  eternal  I  such  names  mingled')  A  man  who  is  ignorant  of 
logic  and  philosophy,  of  history  and  grammar,  who  cannot  spell  the 
names  of  the  authors  whose  speculations  he  affects  to  chronicle  and 
criticise,  who  writes  nonsense,  and  cannot  write  English,  is  not  en- 
titled to  credit  or  attention  as  an  historian  of  Logic. 

The  evidence,  or  the  simplest  portion  of  it,  on  Avhich  these  charges 
are  made,  shall  form  the  conclusion  of  this  censure.  And,  as  we  in- 
timated at  the  outset,  they  shall  be  exhibited  under  distinct  heads, 
like  the  danuialjle  and  hcreticul  propo.^itions  of  heterodox  authors 
submitted  to  the  judgment  of  medioival  councils  and  ecclesiastical 
doctors.  Om-  readers  may  thus  estimate  for  themselves  our  modera- 
tion in  castigating  Mr.  Blakoy's  grievous  offences.  We  shall  not 
repeat  in  our  lists  blunders  already  noticed  in  the  course  of  our  re- 
marks, but  produce  only  new  and  additional  instances  of  error.  In 
the  performance  of  this  task  large  classes  of  misrepresentations, 
misapprehensions,  and  misstatements  must  bo  omitted  altogether, 
and  only  scanty  gleanings  from  our  copious  collections  in  other 
classes  can  be  inserted  in  our  Florilc^iinn  stoliditatum.  Moreover, 
the  various  types  of  error  in  which  this  book  abounds,  run  into  each 
other  by  such  manifold  connexions,  that  it  is  impossible  to  distribute 


1856.]  Blakeys  History  of  Logic.  6S3 

them  rigidly  under  appropriate  heads  :  the  division  can  only  be  arti- 
ficial, not  thorough  and  natural.  Tares,  cheat,  and  Spanish  needles 
cannot  be  culled  out  of  a  wheat-field,  though  a  fe\Y  Aveeds  may  be 
pulled  out  of  a  garden.  When  a  man  thinks  distinctly  and  precisely, 
and  understands  the  subject  he  discusses,  his  errors  may  be  readily 
separated  and  classified;  but  this  cannot  be  d'ne  in  the  case  of  a 
scatter-brain  thinker  and  a  confused  reasoncr,  v,-ho  borro\\'s  ^vhole- 
sale,  and  neither  understands  what  he  borrows,  nor  what  ho  attempts 
to  expound.  Justice  requires  us  to  suggest  that  some  of  Mr. 
Blakey's  mistakes  in  orthography  may  be  due  to  the  printer,  though, 
from  the  character  of  the  publisher,  and  the  typographical  execution 
in  general,  this  is  not  probable ;  and  it  is  rendered  still  more  im- 
probable by  the  recurrence  of  other  faults  for  which  the  printer 
could  not  be  responsible.  These  explanations  prepare  the  way  for 
the  exhibition  of  our  catalogue  of  error. 

Blunders  in  spelling  proper  names,  and  in  the  grammar  of  quota- 
tions : 

Magarlan  for  Megarjan.    P.  IG. 

Pcrmcniiles  for  Parmenides.     P.  1 7. 

Blemade,  f^jr  iJlemniidas,  Blemmydas,  &c.    P.  109. 

Facinu?,  for  FIciiius.     Pp.  164,  165. 

Favorin,  for  Favorinus.     P.  104. 

Nizolini,  for  Nizolius.     P.  ISl. 

Bruker,  for  Brucker.    P.  181. 

Lamenais,  for  Lamennais.    P.  401. 

Battain,  for  Bautaiu.    P.  401. 

"  Teissier  mentions  that  the  books  of  Kamus,  (his  Insdtutionem  Dinlcctlcce 
and  Ani))iadccr.<ione.<  Aristotellca"  *•  *)  *  *  p.  170. 

"  We  have  the  Jrtis  Lof/iccc  of  the  immortal  John  Wilton."     P.  203. 

"We  find  a  portion  of  the  same  scepticism  in  the  Dissertation  sur  la 
Renherolie  de  la  Yerite,  ou  sur  la  Logiqiies  des  Acadimiciens  of  the  Abbo 
Foucher."   P.  2G4. 

Blunders  in  grammar,  and  expressions  not  English : 

.  .  .  '■  Tliey  took  shelter  among  the  fiitne.-ses  of  abstruse  and  mystical  ques- 
tions, susceptible  of  a  double  meaning  and  interpretation,  or  -were  otherwise 
of  such  a  character  as  not  to  be  solved  by  any  powers  of  the  human  facul- 
ties."  P.  14. 

"  The  truth  on  -which  science  is  founded,  and  which  can  be  transmitted  from 
age  to  age,  resides  in  the  soul  itsclt',  and  possesses  a  real  existence  from  all 
subjective  influences  whatever."    P.  20. 

^  "  Now  it  is  precisely  the  same  with  evei^'  other  class  of  our  general  concep- 
tions which  forms  the  elements  of  our  reasonings."    P.  30. 

..."  All  topics  cognizant  to  the  understanding."  P.  06.  ..."  On  all  sub- 
jects cognizant  to  the  human  mind."  P.  -J-iO. 

..."  Every  logical  system  .  .  .  owes  all  the  interest  it  can  possibly  excite 
in  the  estimation  of  men  to  certain  principles,  which  lie  in  the  background 
from  it"  .  .  .     P.  07. 

"The  influential  and  imix)rtant  principles  which  lay  in  the  background" to 
this  loirical  movement."'  ...     P.  220. 


534  Blahcijs  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

"  These  principles  ivere  grappled  "nith,  discussed, analyzed,  viewed  in  every 
possiV-)le  aspect,  and  assayed  to  be  develojied  with  marvellous  acuteness  and 
philosophical  skill."    P.  73. 

"  It  was  through  this  channel  that  the  writings  of  Aristotle  .  .  .  were  con- 
veyed to  them  about  the  coninionceniont  of  tlie  ninth  century,  and  which  im- 
parled such  a  powerful  stimulant  to  their  speculative  subtiltv  and  logical 
skill."   r.  112. 

.  .  .  "Many  of  the  scholastic  doctors  pronounced  it  as  useless."  ...    P.  154. 

"  Indeed,  we  see  here  very  rlistinctly  .  .  .  that  men  were  bent  on  testing 
all  logicil  uietiioJs  and  ^y^t( ms  l)y  tlioir  own  private  juihinvnt.  and  1o  be  no 
longer  led  bv  the  sliocr  power  of  authority  for  ancient  and  venerated  names." 
P.  t63. 

"  The  plag-ae  r.i2:ed  in  Paris,  and  cut  otT  several  of  its  most  influential  and 
popular  of  the  pro'es^oi-s  of  tlie  university."   P.  170. 

"  The  great  moveuimt  of  the  Refonnatiou  ell'ectcd  logical  science  consider- 
ably." P.  1S5.     Effect  is  put  for  affect,  also  p.  245,  and  in  other  places. 

"  It  must  always,  however,  be  taken  into  consideration,  that  there  are  every 
degree  of  mysticism  "...     P.  1 9  7. 

...  "A  stronger  stamina  of  enthusiasm  "  ...     P.  222. 

"  Man  was  no  longer  considered  as  only  a  finer  specimen  of  the  animal,  but 
bad  within  an  immat'.-rial  and  immortal  priiiciple,  which  the  coldness  of  the 
grave  could  not  destroy."    P.  247. 

'•  Even  if  it  bo  aihniited  tliat  men  ignorant  of  artificial  logic,  reason  some- 
times more  promi)tly  and  correctly  than  those  intimately  skilled  in  it;  yet  this 
does  not  prove  it''  absolute  inutility,  any  more  than  because  we  occasionally 
find  persons  quick  and  coirect  at  arithmetical  accounts  wlio,  nevertheless, 
know  scarcely  anything  o(  formal  figures,  that  therefore  the  science  of  numbere 
is  of  little  use."   P.  2o6. 

"  He  (Locke)  makes  the  distinct  portion  of  his  philosophv  subservient  to  this 
end."   P.  270. 

"  The  first  item  in  the  olenionts  of  logic  are  conceptions."   P.  302. 

"  The  logical  jjortiou  of  his  (Condillac's)  voluminous  works  are  contained 
under  the  general  lu-ad  of  Com-s  d'Etude."   P.  318. 

"  The  Christian  s_\  .-tcm  conferred  new  logical  canons  on  the  nature,  import- 
ance, and  promulgation  of  truth."    P.  329. 

'•  When  the  five  ni*'niliers  of  the  Hindoo  syllogism  is  considered  "...  P.  384. 

"  The  formation  of  a  philosopliical  logic — similar  in  its  character  and  intended 
offices  as  that  contemplated  by  the  late  Dugald  Stewart "...     P.  399. 

These  examples  are  amply  sufficient  to  prove  that  Mr.  Blakey 
can  write  neither  Kn;.^]ish  nor  rrvammar,  but,  if  further  illustration 
is  dcsireJ,  other  in^tuuccs  may  be  found  at  paj^es  12,  30,  52,  OS,  SI, 
87,  91,  100,  107,  14S,  172,  188,  224,  232,  234,  260,  263,  266,  279, 
280,  294,  295,  306,  364,  376,  411,  412,  415,  419,  458,  466,  481. 

Examples  of  pure  nonsense  in  Blakey's  History  of  Logic. 

"  Antisthenes — This  {thilosopher  entertained  certain  opinions  on  that  branch 
of  logic  which  embracci  the  nature  and  use  of  definitions."    P.  IC. 

"  This  being  or  existence,  as  well  as  its  op])Osite,  non-being  or  non-exist- 
ence, cannot  i)C  defined;  only  the  beinLj  is  represented  by  an  effulgent  light 
which  encircles  it ;  wherea.s  tlie  non-being  is  the  pure  negative,  or  the  want 
of  this  irradiating  inllueme."    P.  33. 

"Possession — This  catvgory  involves  the  whole  rights  of  pa-oj-icrty."    P.  3S. 

"  Thcv  (the  ancient  plniosophei-s)  viewed  the  mind  of  man  in  all  its  totality, 
and  more  especially  directed  their  attention  to  that  attribute  of  its  nature 


1856.]  Blakey's  History  of  Lo^ic.  535 

•which  was  immediately  cnjraged  in  the  pursuit  antl  communication  of  tmth ; 
and  scanning  this  attribute  from  every  angular  ^wsition  in  -VYhich  it  could  pre- 
sent itself  to  the  understandings  of  men,  they  saw  that  it  revolved,  as  on  a 
fixed  centre,  upon  the  great  and  interesting  truth,  that  there  was  in  some  un- 
known sphere  of  creation  some  living  and  active  power,  wliich  inspired  men 
with  ideas  on  tliese  topics,  and  forced  upon  them  that  indissohilile  connexion 
which  suhsi.-^ted  between  what  was  true,  and  good,  and  beautiful,  and  the 
preservation  of  their  own  existence  and  hajipiness  as  human  creatures."    P.  77. 

"  If  the  principle  in  question  should  be  carried  to  its  full  or  ulrra-logical 
consequences."  ...     P.  87. 

"  This  (that  logic  was  the  universal  science)  was  the  current  or  every-day 
belief  of  all  the  scholastic  thinkers  in  every  age  of  their  disputations;  and  this 
belief  firms  that  logical  unity  which  is  imprinted  on  the  mind  of  every  one 
conversant  with  their  speculations."   P.  128. 

'•  Hobbes's  system  of  philosophy  was  evidently  of  a  material  cast;  and,  on 
this  account,  he  was  too  clear-headed  to  adimt  into  his  logic  any  princijile  or 
formal  arrangement  which  might  seem  to  be  at  variance  with  his  leading 
views  on  human  nature."    P.  224. 

"  Thinking  long  and  earnestly  on  this  topic,  he  (Descartes)  was  induced  to 
conceive  that  there  must  certainly  be  some  method  or  other,  wliich,  if  pursued, 
would  enable  candid  and  inquiring  minds  to  throw  off  thi-  incubus  of  doubt, 
and,  following  tip  the  first  suggestion,  he  thought  he  saw  in  the  distance,  Uke 
a  nebulous  cloud  in  the  horizon,  a  certain  principle  which  pointed  him  to 
somothing  like  certitude  and  truth."   P.  232. 

"Judgment  and  probability  are  two  important  instruments  in  Locke's 
logical  system."   P.  274. 

.  .  .  '•  The  fundamental  doctrines  of  theology,  considered  as  an  embodiment 
of  scientific  truth."    P.  2b'5. 

"  Reasoning  is  not,  therefore,  a  general  and  blind  energy,  or  impulse,  directed 
to  a  particular  end,  and  guided  by  nothiitg  higher  or  extrinsic  to  itsiilf."  P.  295. 

"  Every  fundamental  truth  should  have  an  existence  of  all  knowledge  from 
exjxjrience."    P.  30G. 

"  There  is  prefixed  to  the  end  of  the  volume."  ...     P.  321. 

"  Genovesi"s  logic  is  founded  on  a  psychological  view  of  the  n>.ind."   P.  334. 

"  His  (R}delius"s)  opinions  on  the  general  principles  of  logical  science  are 
to  be  found"  in  his  other  publications  devoted  to  mental  philosophy."  P.  373. 
(Other  than  his  logic.) 

This  list  ma}'-  be  extended  by  reference  to  pages  29.  30,  33,  06, 
66,  67,  81,  83,  84,  86,  122,  143,  194,  244,  272,  294,  297,  319,  348, 
380,  415,  455,  400. 

Blakej's  blunders  in  matters  historical. 

Besides  omissions,  chronological  dislocations,  and  disregard  of 
propriety  and  proportion  in  the  amount  of  consideration  besto^ved 
upon  different  authors  and  periods,  there  are  numerous  distinct 
errors,  of  which  we  specify  the  following: 

Socrates  "spent  a  long  life  in  teaching  .  .  .  what  were  the  best  rules  and 
principles  iVir  guiding  the  jud^iment  in  the  acquisition  and  promu!g.ition  of 
truth  generally."'    P.'l7. 

''  This  liuge_  mass  of  speculation  (philosophy  before  Socrates)  .  .  .  had 
neitticr  beginning,  middle,  nor  end."    P.  21. 

"  Following  the  Peripatetics,  another  class  of  logicians  made  their  appear- 
ance, denominated  Sceptics."   P.  53. 


536  Blakcijs  History  of  Logic.  [October, 

"  The  Stoics  do  not  appear  to  have  entered  very  deeply  into  the  logic  of 
either  Pl.ito  or  Aristotle."   P.  oO. 

The  Stoics  '>  took  men  as  they  found  them.  And  hence  it  is  that  theories 
of  every  kind  hun;:;  loosely  about  them."   P.  61. 

"  St.'Atlicnagoras."   P.  00. 

"His  (Casslodonis's)  view^  (on  logic)  are  contained  ia  the  treatise 
<■  Rhetorlca  Compendium  r"     Pp.  107,  f  OS.  " 

"  Tlic  Arabian  logical  i)hiloiophy,  taken  as  a  -whole,  is  a  compound  of  three 
leading  ingredients — the  ."Scripture  doctrine  as  to  the  nature  of  truth,  the 
Gre(Man  dialectics,  and  the  theories  of  the  Xcw  Platonists."   P.  112. 

"  The  logical  method  of  A(juinas,  and  his  speculations  on  the  nature  of 
ti-uth  and  evidence  geuenilly,  are  developed  chiefly  in  his  Summa  Theoloqica, 
and  ia  his  Commentaries  on  some  parts  of  the  philo.-ophy  of  Aristotle."    P.  149. 

"Its  barrenness  and  Ibnnallty  soon  became  ajiparent."  P.  151.  He  is 
speaking  of  Raymond  LuUy's  Ars  Magna,  and  contradicts  himself  in  what 
unmediiitely  Ibllows. 

"James  Zabarella  (A.  D.  1.532)  -was  a  logician  of  some  note."    P.  181. 

"  Melanctbon  eiitcrtaine<l  no  very  high  opinion  of  scholastic  logic."  P.  191. 

The  Novum  Organon  "gave  a  new  and  powerful  impetus  to  logical  investi- 
gations."   1'.  200. 

"  In  ros[)ect  to  the  svllo^istlc  mode  of  reasoning,  Leibnitz  expresses  him- 
self a  qualified  adminr  of  it."    P.  249. 

"  Archbishop  Whately's  JOlements  of  Logic  is  one  of  the  most  important  and 
influential  logical  publications  of  modern  times."    P.  454. 

Similar  blunders,  many  even  grosser  than  these,  may  be  dis- 
covered on  pages  20,  54,  55,  58,  71,  76,  94,.  95,  110,  125,  127,  140, 
141,  100,  101,  109,  181,  195,  213,  220,  221,246,  257,  271.  287,  829, 
344. 

Blakey's  blunders  in  matters  logical  and  philosophical. 

So  much  space  has  been  already  occupied  -svith  the  previous 
enumeration  of  Mr.  El;ikc3f's  errors  in  regard  to  other  subjects, 
and  lapses  in  Logic  and  metaphysics,  or  in  points  involving  those 
branches  oi'  science,  roijuire  so  much  elucidation  to  render  their 
enormity  or  even  their  existence  sensible  to  the  majority  of  readers, 
that  Ave  have  collected  in  the  note  the  references  to  Mr.  Blakey's 
sins  of  this  kind,"'^  instead  of  writing  out  in  extcnso  any  of  the  long 
and  tedious  passages  in  \vhich  the}'  are  contained.  ■  If,  therefore, 
we  have  not  fully  substantiated  all  our  severe  censures  of  this  His- 
torical Sketch  of  Logic,  we  have  furnished  to  others  an  ample 
apparatus  criticus  by  •which  it  may  be  justified  and  confirmed. 
We  have,  therefore,  no  hesitation  in  taking  leave  of  this  volume, 

»  Blunders  in  Lo-ic :  Pp.  xix.  1.3,  28,  .35,  40,  G8,  75.  7S,  85,  90,  92,  94,  95,  97, 
101,  107,  110,  119,  l'22,  130,  1.32,  14.5,  159,  202,  230,  245,  277,  455,  470. 

Blunders  in  luattcrs  mctapliysical :  Pp.  27,  29,  31,  33,  45,  47,  G9,  70,  72,  SO, 
91,  126,  127,  128,  134,  152,  153,  159.  178,  205,  200,207-8,  210,  220,248,273,234, 
296. 

As  Mr.  Blakcy  confounds  Logic  and  Metaphysics  together,  these  two  classes 
of  error  in  \\\a  book  arc  frequently  almost  uuJiitingulsLablc  from  each  other. 


185G.]  Iruing's  Works.  537 

•with  the  declaration  that  it  is  good  for  nothing,  and  is  entitled  to 
commendation  only  for  its  paper  and  print.  Let  every  one  who 
desires  to  know  something  of  the  History  of  Logic,  avoid  it  like  the 
plague,  and  recm-  to  the  able  and  valuable  treatise  of  St.  Hilaire, 
JJe  la  Logique  d'Aristote,  so  frequgitly  referred  to  in  the  course  of 
our  remarks. 


/,     • Art.  II.— IRYING'S  WORKS. 

The  Works  of  Washington  Irvinj.     16  vols.,  12mo.     New-York:  G.  P.  Putnam.. 

The  name  of  the  distinguished  man  whose  works  are  placed  at  the 
head  of  this  article,  has,  for  a  long  time,  been  a  household  word  in 
both  licmispheres.  For  more  than  forty  years,  words  of  beauty  and 
thoughts  of  purity  have  been  constantly  flowing  from  his  classic 
pen ;  and  all  that  we  can  do  in  the  premises,  is  to  hold  up  before 
mankind  a  model  of  beautiful  sentiment  and  elegant  writing.  Wash- 
ington Irving  is  the  first  of  our  writers  who  won  a  brilliant  fame  in 
countries  separated  from  his  own  by  the  ocean.  AVe  had  men 
whom  Europe  and  the  world  honoured,  long  before  he  wrote, 
and  who  were  reckoned  brothers  to  universal  humanity.  The 
deeds  of  our  heroes,  and  the  practical  wisdom  of  our  statesmen, 
were  everywhere  admired  as  soon  as  men  heard  of  them.  Our 
energy  and  morality,  our  industry,  our  freedom,  our  intelligence, 
and  our  unexampled  progress,  were  the  wonder  and  envy  of  the 
nations.  But  no  man  was  known  solely  for  his  ability  to  write  his 
native  tongue  in  an  elegant  and  graceful  manner,  or  for  his  power  to 
awaken  emotions  of  beauty,  pity,  tenderness,  and  mirth  in  the 
minds  of  others.  The  reputation  of  Irving  is,  therefore,  in  the 
minds  of  his  countrymen,  very  much  like  the  heart's  estimation  of  a 
first  love — an  exaggerated  remembrance  of  a  delicious  dream;  or  hke 
the  fond  mother's  dotings  over  the  infant  exploits  of  her  first-born 
son,  a  gladsome  picture  of  futurity,  coloured  by  the  magic  glass  of 
hope.  lie  is  the  best  beloved,  as  well  as  the  oldest,  of  American 
writers,  and  the  collection  of  his  works  marks  an  era  in  the  history 
of  our  literature  which  ought  not  to  be  pa?scd  without  due  notice. 

The  writings,  as  collected  and  thus  far  published,  embrace,  in 
some  sixteen  volumes,  fictitious  works,  such  as  tales  and  sketches ; 
essays,  moral,  humorous,  and  sentimental;  narratives  of  advent- 
ures and  travel;  biographies  of  eminent  men;  and  histories,  bur- 

FouKTii  Series.  Vol.  YIIL— 3-1 


538  Irving's  Works.  [October, 

lesquc  and  authentic.  It  is  not  often  that  a  ^vriter  assumes  to  use 
his  pen  in  so  many  and  so  various  kinds  of  literature ;  and  still  less 
often  is  it  that  one  succeeds.  Southey  wrote  poetry,  history,  philoso- 
phy so  called,  fiction,  and  biop^vaphy,  and  succeeded  in  all,  so  as  to 
have  made  many  enemies  and  few  warm  friends ;  and  yet  men  will  re- 
member his  bio;iraphies  and  profit  by  them,  when  they  would  wiliLDgly 
forget  all  else  of  his  works.  Scott  wrote  criticisms,  fiction,  poetry, 
and  history,  and  made  each  nothing  else  than  a  kind  of  poetic  fiction. 
And  so  of  others ;  they  have  only  excelled  in  one,  or,  at  most,  two 
departments ;  and  even  in  those  they  have  many  who,  if  not  cavillers, 
are  only  hesitating  friends.  r)Ut  Irving  seems  to  have  shown  that 
in  each  thing  which  he  undertook  he  had  a  master's  power,  and  has 
attained  the  height  of  ambition.  In  the  whole  of  what  he  has 
written  there  is  a  vast  variety  of  incident,  an  almost  unexampled 
scope  of  design  and  construction,  and  a  compass  of  subject  and 
style  which  well  might  satisfy  the  pride  of  a  writer,  or  the  omnivor- 
ous curiosity  of  a  fashionable  reader.  His  writings  embrace  almost 
every  species  of  literary  composition,  except  that  which  proceeds 
with  the  majestic  marcli  of  measured  verse.  There  are  the  broadest 
and  most  ludicrously- strained  caricature;  the  most  genial  and 
mirth-provoking  humour;  the  keenest  and  the  most  unexpected 
sallies  of  wit ;  the  tcnderest  and  the  truest  sentiment ;  the  sweetest, 
the  most  natural,  and  most  heart-profiting  moral  reflection;  the 
soundest  and  noblest  los.^ons  of  practical  wisdom ;  the  loftiest  and 
most  enduring  poetic  imogen,^;  the  best  and  holiest  morality:  all 
written  in  words  the  smoothest  and  most  bewitching,  and  conveyed 
in  a  style  the  most  enchanting  and  soul- elevating.  He  is  at  once  a 
master  of  all  the  weapons,  and  all  the  arts,  of  written  eloquence.  It 
is  an  honour  to  any  country  to  have  produced  such  a  man,  and  a 

r still  greater  honour  to  any  age  to  have,  in  some  good  degi-ee  at  least, 

L  appreciated  him  and  hi.s  works. 

The  earliest  work  whhli  it  has  pleased  him  to  revise  and  reprint, 

"is  "Knickerbocker's  History  of  New- York,  from  the  beginning  of 
Creation  to  the  close  of  the  Hynasties  of  our  worthy  Dutch  Governors," 
first  published  in  1S09.     Irving  had  before  this  been  engaged  with 

■  one  or  two  others  in  the  publication  of  a  series  of  humorous  and 
sentimental  essays,  called  ."salmagundi;  but  he  has  not  seen  fit  to 
claim  his  own  particular  i-hare  of  these,  and  to  incorporate  them  in 

•the  present  edition  of  his  writings.  If  we  may  judge  of  pubHc 
opinion  at  that  time  by  the  alacrity  with  which  the  name  "Kuicker- 

•bocker"  was  adopted,  we  must  conclude  that  the  book  was  welcomed 
with  a  hearty  enthusiasm.     Indeed,  for  forty  years  it  has  been  a 

vuniversiil  favourite,  and  few  books  have  been  hailed  with  a  warmer 


1856.]  Irving' s  Works.  539 

greeting  than  its  revised  edition  called  forth.  To  this  fact  allusion 
is  made  in  the  Preface  of  this  revised  edition,  Avith  evident  satis- 
faction. Irving  seems  to  have  been  singularly  fortunate  in  select- 
ing topic?  for  his  -u-ork?,  and  in  the  names  by  M-hich  to  distinguish 
them ;  or  perhaps  the  ability  -^vith  vrhich  he  has  handled  everything 
undertaken,  has  so  dignified  and  ornamented  it,  that  both  the  reality 
and  the  name  by  ■^hich  he  chose  to  call  it  have  at  once  become 
classic.  And  is  it  not  true,  that  this  fact  marks  the  distinction 
between  a  man  of  genius  and  a  man  of  mere  words  ?  "Will  not  the 
man  of  genius  select  his  subject  from  the  most  commonplace  things, 
and  in  developing  it  see,  and  cause  others  to  feel,  so  many  analogies 
and  relations  between  that  and  all  beautiful  objects  around  it,  that 
it  shall  at  once  shine  with  the  beauty  of  perfection  itself?  Just  as 
the  moon,  almost  without  form  and  void,  having  the  glory  of  sun, 
stars,  and  azure  sky  to  inwrap  and  mantle  it,  becomes  the  loveliest 
orb  of  night,  and  lives  in  men's  hearts  as  in  a  world  of  love.  Acci- 
dent, whim.,  or  mischief,  may  prompt  such  a  man  to  write  on  this 
or  that  topicT  and  another  even  may  suggest  the  plan ;  but  when  he 
works  over  the  materials,  he  sheds  on  it  his  own  glorious  mental 
light,  throws  over  it  the  warmth  of  his  own  genial  heart,  colours  it 
with  his  own  mellow  fancy,  till  it  becomes  a  living  world,  attracting 
wherever  it  moves,  and  adoming  the  whole  hemisphere  in  which  it 
appears.  Men  love  it;  they  love  its  name  even,  and  they  will' 
dignify  with  its  name,  in  whole  or  in  part,  all  things  influenced  by  it. 
Precisely  thus  it  is  with  Piedrick  Knickerbocker's  History. 
It  seems  to  have  originated  in  a  justifiable  attempt  to  ridicule  a  vei-y 
dull  and  egotistical  book,  printed  more  than  forty  years  ago.  This 
was  a  temporary  occasion,  and  Irving  very  modestly  and  truthfully 
confesses  that  it  was  the  leading  design  in  his  mind.  But  he  could 
write  nothing  merely  temporary,  and  when  he  began,  the  work  at 
once  outgrew  the  foundation,  and  spran'j;  up  to  immortal  beauty. 
Instead  of  a  burlesque  on  a  single  insignificant  book,  and  that  to  be 
laughed  at  for  a  day,  we  have  a  world  of  burlesque  on  all  infiated 
historians  and  theorizers.  We  have  satire,  keen  and  biting,  sparing 
no^puffcd-up  dignity  in  state  or  iu  letters;  but  withal  so  good- 
natured  and  forgiving  that  every  reader  is  made  more  charitable, 
instead  of  more  censorious.  Here  is  wit  as  honest  as  a  gush  of 
spring  sunshine,  once  in  a  while  somewhat  coarse,  but  so  sportive, 
and  simple,  and  harmless,  that  all  admire  as  they  laugh,  and  grow 
more  disposed  to  love  than  ever.  And  peeping  out  of  almost  every 
page  is  a  humour  so  sly  and  hearty,  that  although  it  is  now  and  then 
improbable,  yet  so  well  sustained,  that  none  but  a  cynic  can  cavil  at 
its  e.Kcess,  or  complain  at  its  vagaries.    And  then  we  find  caricature, 


540  Irving' s  Works.  [October, 

BO  ludicrous  and  so  strained,  that  we  must  laugh  or  die ;  and  still  so 
time  to  nature,  and  the  original  in  life  seems  so  closely  followed, 
that  we  are  often  more  than  Jialf  inclined  to  believe  the  whole  thing 
real,  and  are  moved  to  tenderest  pity  by  the  most  mirth-provoking 
of  all  writings.  All  feelings  and  their  expressions,  all  emotions  and 
their  joys,  are  so  naturally  moved  within  us,  and  seem  so  completely 
to  be  our  oVf-n  property,  or  the  result,  at  least,  of  our  own  activity, 
that  we  for  the  moment  claim  them  as  our  own  children,  the  beloved 
offspring  of  our  own  hearts,  and  not  the  cold  and  distant  creations 
of  another.  This  is  the  true  prerogative  of  genius,  to  create  its  own 
thoughts  in  other  men's  minds :  and  to  do  this  without  awakening 
suspicion  that  the  whole  is  not  the  spontaneous  action  of  theii-  own 
hearts. 

The  whole  of  what  may  be  called  the  fictitious  works  of  L'ving 
are  remarkable  for  this  power.  It  lives  in  Knickerbocker's  strange 
history  of  Dutchmen  and  governors,  full  of  wrath  and  doubting. 
We  laugh  at  the  pictures  of  fight  and  debate,  and,  like  children, 
"wish  we  could  have  seen  their  High  Mightinesses,  and  we  dream  how 
much  more  we  should  have  laughed  at  the  reality.  We  forget  that 
genius  has  only  painted  the  picture  which  we  see  in  our  indi- 
vidual minds.  Wo  see  it,  but,  as  with  the  rainbow,  no  other  eye  can 
Bce  precisely  our  picture.  Many  of  the  tales  in  the  Sketch  Book, 
in  Eracebridge  Hall,  in  Tales  of  a  Traveler,  in  the  Alhambra,  serve 
equally  vrell  to  illustrate  this  idea.  Every  reader  sees  the  wife  for 
himself,  the  squire,  the  fair  Julia,  Ichabod  Crane,  Dolph  Heiliger, 
or  the  weazen-faced  story-teller,  all  for  himself,  and  enjoys  his 
view  as  though  each  one  had  been  made  by  himself,  feeling  some- 
what as  Prometheus  must  have  felt,  when  his  fire,  stolen  indeed,  had 
made  his  clay  images  to  breathe  and  live.  From  the  heaven  of  a 
god-like  genius,  we  little  men  steal  the  fire  that  enlivens  the  clay- 
wrought  images  of  our  own  brains,  and  then  feel  as  though  creative 
power  were  stirring  wiLhiii  us. 

The  Conquest  of  Granada  is  a  book  of  a  very  different  character 
from  Knickerbocker's  History,  and  yet  in  one  point  they  closely  re- 
semble each  other.  They  both  contain  passages  of  irony  the 
keenest  and  the  most  effective  of  anything  in  English  literatui-e. 
Wc  cannot  remember  anything  in  Addison,  or  Steele,  or  Burke,  on 
BO  broad  a  scale,  so  good-natured,  so  keen,  and  yet  so  mighty,  as  the 
proof  of  kingly  titles  to  the  lands  of  America,  or  fighting  by  proclama- 
tion, or  zeal  for  religion  in  ambitious  rulers,  or  official  dignity,  about 
which  such  timely  essays  are  written  in  one  or  the  other  of  these  works. 
Fighting  by  proclamation  has  nearly  gone  out  of  practice,  since  the 
times  when  Bonaparte  and  the  English  ministers  and  European 


1856.]  Irving's  Works.  541 

sovereigns,  and  even  our  own  good  president,  each  sought  to  subdue 
the  world  by  a  solitary  battle  on  paper  in  his  own  study.  Both 
these  books  are  sufficiently  accurate  as  to  dates  and  names,  for  the 
first  does  not  stand  at  all  on  historical  probabilities,  and  the  last 
aims  to  be  exact,  and  loses  nothing  thereby;  but  both  necessarily 
colour  and  shape  facts,  and  supply  motives  and  occasions.  Yet 
they  are  both  full  of  lessons  of  instruction,  dropped  in  slyly,  the 
more  welcome  and  the  better  remembered,  since  they  seem  to  come 
because  they  cannot  be  kept  out.  And  we  venture  to  affirm  of  these 
two  books,  that  although  there  is  scarcely  a  fact,  certainl}'  not  an 
entire  transaction,  which  is  not  in  some  way  coloured,  or  more  or 
less  distorted,  still  there  are  no  truer  histories  than  they.  We 
mean,  of  course,  that  none  give  so  good  a  picture  of  the  deeds  and 
the, men  of  those  days,  and  convey  to  the  mind  better  lessons  of 
instruction  and  wisdom. 

I^othing.  in  many  cases,  is  more  ftilse  than  a  literal  statement  of 
what  appears.  Such  a  statement  vrill  lack  unity  and  purpose,  and 
no  impression  of  life  or  end  will  be  seen.  But  by  omitting  many 
trivial  events,  and  by  imparting  additional  interest  to  others,  we  may 
come  to  realize  and  appreciate  the  full  force  and  tendency  of  a  given 
event.  This  will  give  a  wholeness  and  a  heartiness  to  the  narration, 
both  of  which  are  essential  elements  of  its  truth.  Truth  in  history, 
then,  is  something  more  than  literal  accuracy  as  to  event,  time,  place, 
and  actors.  It  is  such  an  arrangement  of  facts  and  actors  as  shall 
enable  us  to  tell  exactly  how  all  things  went  on.  An  author,  accord- 
ing to  this,  may  shape  his  facts,  as  well  as  select  them,  and  arrange 
them,  not  precisely  according  to  the  order  of  time,  but  when  the 
whole  fabric  is  done,  the  reader  shall  find  in  his  mind  a  consistent 
idea  of  everything  narrated.  Our  histories  frequently  do  little  more 
than  narrate  batiles,  and  a  few  events  of  uncommon  occurrence,  and 
these  are  by  no  means  capable  of  conveying  any  important  truth. 
]\Iany  a  tviiling  tale  of  the  E evolution  is  by  far  truer  than  a  pieien- 
tious  history.  It  reveals  the  cause  of  the  strength  of  that  vast 
movement  of  the  people,  and  thus  lets  us  feel  the  truth  in  its  sim- 
plicity. Historical  truth  absolutely  req-oires  that  the  mere  outward 
fixcts  shall  not  always  be  followed.  The  outside  is  not  the  man  by 
any  m.eans.  To  present  him  as  he  is,  you  must  show  something 
more  than  the  eye  sees,  something  more  than  his  mere  acts ;  or.  what 
is  better,  you  must  so  show  those  acts  as  to  bring  out  the  spirit  and 
character  ot  the  man.  This,  the  evident  facts,  in  their  mere  super- 
ficial relations  and  positions,  will  not  do.  A  hypocrite  can  never  be 
shown  up  by  his  deeds,  or  by  his  words  alone ;  and  the  biography  of 
such  a  man,  which  coldly  narrates  these  in  their  evcry-day  order  and 


542  Irving's  Works.  [October, 

seeming  relations,  vcould  be  iis  false  as  tlie  hypocrite  himself.  But 
change  the  order  ofthosc  deeds,  omit  a  few  words,  and  transpose  both 
somewhat;  put  the  accomplished  result  for  the  deed,  or  the  motive 
for  both,  and  a  true  picture  may  be  produced,  one  which  will  be 
recognized  and  applauded ;  and  yet  we  call  this  fiction.  Some  will 
8ay.it  is  not  true,  for  the  outside  of  the  picture  does  not  correspond 
to  the  outside  of  the  thing  to  be  represented.  The  picture  was  not 
designed  to  represent  ihe  outside  of  the  man,  but  the  inside ;  and 
as  it  represents  that  truly  and  vividly,  it  is  beyond  question  true. 
Is  not  the  sneaking,  drivelling  hypocrite  a  base  lie  within?  And 
why  not  then  paint  him  as  such?  !Not  as  an  externally  correct 
Christian,  suspected  of  a  want  of  conformity  between  his  outward 
and  his  inner  lives,  but  as  one  who  is  seen  and  felt  to  be  a  base 
imposture.  The  mean,  selfish,  canting  policy  of  Ferdinand,  in  con- 
quering the  Moors  of  Spain,  can  in  no  possible  way  be  truly  repre- 
sented by  the  mere  facts.  Whoever  would  expose  this,  must  place 
the  emphasis  cautiously  on  the  praises  bestowed  on  the  piety,  the 
wisdom,  the  valour,  and  the  patriotism  of  the  warriors  of  the  times. 
By  omitting  one,  and  dwelling  upon  another  of  the  deeds  which 
then  transpired,  we  come  to  see  that  irony  is  here  in  its  true  place, 
and  is  truer  tlian  sober  foct.  "We  hesitate  not,  therefore,  to  declare 
that  Irvings  book  is  truer  than  Prcscott's,  Knickerbocker  than 
Bancroft  or  llildrcth,  and  that  the  translator  and  annotator  of  Fray 
Antonio  Aglipida  is  a  more  faithful  historian  than  Hume  or  Robert- 
son, those  giants  of  sober  fact  and  mighty  argument. 

There  is  about  every  man  a  peculiar  presence,  which  is  not 
revealed  to  us  by  cither  of  the  external  senses,  but  which  comes 
to  us  v.hen  we  attain  to  a  tme  sense  of  the  man's  charac- 
teristics and  idiosyncrasies.  So  it  is  in  the  history  of  any 
particular  time,  event,  or  individual.  To  reveal  it  thor- 
oughly to  us,  the  author  must  go  deeper  than  the  eye  can  pene- 
trate, lie  must  sot  brturc  us  the  charcicteristics  and  peculiarities 
which  marked  the  best  minds,  or  which  disfigured  the  lives  of  the 
noblest  men,  and  which  were  copied  and  multiplied  in  the  daily 
conduct  and  acts  of  those  who  admired  excellence  and  aped  its  ex- 
ternal manifestation.  Thus,  in  the  age  of  Cromwell,  historic  truth 
must  reveal  to  us  the  wilfulness,  the  energy,  the  self-denying  zeal, 
and  the  ridiculous  cant  of  the  leaders  of  opinion.  This  may  be 
done  in  the  essay  style,  and  will  be  so  cold  and  tame,  that  no  man 
will  begin  to  a})preciatc  it ;  or  it  may  be  set  forth  in  the  histori- 
cal dramatic  style,  (to  coin  a  term,)  where  events  and  scenes  are 
described  in  part,  and  where  the  characters  are,  in  part,  made  to 
reveal  themselves.     Tins  latter  way  is  not  only  the  better,  but  it  is 


1856.]  Irving's  Works.  543 

truer ;  and  in  this  way  has  Irving  revealecl  to  us  the  picture  of  the 
times  of  the  settlement  and  history  of  Kew-York,  and  the  "wars 
of  the  Moors  and  Spaniards  for  the  possession  of  the  beautiful 
Granada. 

And  the  moral  lesson  taught  by  both  these  works— frequently 
made  to  appear  in  a  stroke  of  keenest  irony,  or  in  a  picture  of 
broadest  caricature — is  the  best  and  truest  which  any  book  teaches. 
It  enters  the  mind  so  naturally,  and  remains  there  so  intimately 
inwoven  with  every  idea  of  the  whole  book,  that  we  are  far  more 
profited  than  if  the  moral  had  been  announced,  and  arguments  long 
and  learned  had  been  adduced,  in  logical  order,  to  sustain  and 
enforce  it. 

The  lives  of  Columbus  and  his  followers,  and  of  Mohammed  and 
his  successors,  are  really  historical  works,  but  of  the  common  order 
and  pattcni  of  histories.  They,  indeed,  are  in  name  biographies, 
but  as  they  each  sketch  and  present  to  us  the  history  of  a  grand 
movement  of  the  race  of  m.ankind,  in  a  particular  direction,  they 
ought  by  all  means  to  be  called  histories.  As  these  are  on  the  exact 
model  and  in  the  precise  form  of  all  our  common  biographical  his- 
tories, we  have  no  disposition  to  dwell  long  upon  them.  They  are 
works  of  great  skill  and  beauty,  but  they  only  shoAV  Irving  as  a 
common  labourer  among  other  men,  and  we  have  no  interest  or 
intention  to  compare  him  with  others,  and  prove  his  superiority. 
It  is  with  his  peculiar  genius  and  gifts,  and  his  labours  which  have 
really  opened  new  veins  in  that  mine  of  literature  which  so  many 
others  have  worked,  that  we  at  this  time  have  to  do.  And  although 
in  his  historical  works  he  is  accurate  and  clear,  concise  and  con- 
nected, and  at  the  end  paints  the  complete  portrait  of  character,  ex- 
actly as  the  several  features,  separately  revealed,  would  appear  if 
united,  yet  he  is  always  so  much  like  other  men,  that  wc  shoidd 
only  be  repeating  what  every  one  can  say  for  himself 

The  "Life  of  Goldsmith"  is  a  strict  biography— ^a  book  designed 
to  represent  the  history  of  a  single  man.  It  represents  this  man, 
indeed,  in  his  daily  connexions  and  associations  with  other  men, 
but,  after  all  the  multitude  of  others  who  appear,  there  is  only  one 
who  centres  all  in  himself  Take  Goldsmith  from  the  book,  and  it 
is  a  mass  of  sand,  just  as  if  3"ou  take  a  magnet  from  the  center  of  a 
mass  of  iron  filings,  which  adhere  to  it  and  form  a  ball,  they  resume 
at  once  their  fragmentary  state,  and  arc  read}'  to  be  blown  away. 
Take  Columbus  or  ^Mohammed  from  either  of  those  works,  and  al- 
though you  have  taken  away  the  crowning  glory,  you  have  not  by 
any  means  destroyed  the  books.  There  is  so  much  said  and  done 
by  others,  worth  reading,  that  you  still  have  a  good  and  excellent 


544  Jrving's  Works.  [October, 

book.  This  work  is  a  fine  illustration  of  the  peculiar  beauties  of 
Irving.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  work  of  affection.  A  sense  of  grat- 
itude and  simple  love  prompted  it.  And  it  everywhere  glows  with 
radiant  good  nature,  fine  feelings  of  sympathy,  and  kind  apprecia- 
tion. The  author  has  made  good  use,  as,  indeed,  every  writer  of  the 
lives  of  men  of  that  day  has  been  glad  to  do,  of  Boswell's  Johnson. 
"What,  indeed,  could  a  biographer  do  without  the  labours  of  that 
most  stupid  but  most  indefatigable  collector  of  the  sayings  and 
doings  of  the  literati,  whom  the  reputation  of  Johnson  brought  to- 
gether, and  held  in  mutual  sympathy  and  intei'course  ?  But  it  gives  us 
a  better  and  a  kiniler  idea  of  Johnson  than  Boswell  does ;  and  raises 
quaint,  quiet,  good,  honest  Goldsmith,  out  of  that  sour  suspicion 
cast  upon  him  by  the  "  meanest  of  men  and  the  greatest  of  biog- 
raphers." Wc  have  said  that  Irving's  loving  heart  prompted  this 
task;  and  so  we  may  say  of  his  Columbus,  and  the  tales  connected 
with  his  ovrn  native  city  and  the  Hudson.  Indeed,  his  affectionate 
nature  instinctively,  and  of  course  naturally,  throws  a  mellow  radi- 
ance over  all  his  writings,  which  makes  us  linger  about  them  and 
admire.  This  fulness  of  love,  clearly  seen  beaming  upon  the  topic 
in  hand,  will  lead  us  to  promise  a  second  reading,  and  anticipate  the 
pleasure  of  many  more.  A  writer  who  uses  his  intellect,  instead  of 
his  heart,  to  supply  all  light  thrown  upon  his  subject,  will  reveal 
himself  only  to  the  mind,  and  the  chances  are,  that  when  wc  read 
the  heart  will  sleep :  and  he  is  a  peculiar  man  whose  attention  will 
long  be  on  the  alert  when  the  heart  sleeps.  "I  sleep,  but  my  heart 
waketh,"  expresses  a  mental  state  ready  to  take  notice  of  the 
slightest  outward  or  inward  phenomenon.  Irving,  like  other  mas- 
ters, always  contrives  to  wake  the  heart,  and  afterward  completely 
interests  the  intellect  also.  Thus,  whenever  we  read  about  one  of 
his  heroes,  especially  about  Goldsmith,  we  say,  "  See  how  he  loved 
him."  Although  it  is  not  so  full  as  Prior's,  nor  so  ambitious  as 
Forstcr's  Life,  yec  uc  have  read  it  and  kept  awake,  when  we 
should  have  yawned  and  slept  over  the  others ;  and  in  this  respect 
we  suppose  we  are  by  no  means  peculiar.  In  humour  Irving  has 
been  compared  to  Goldsmith.  But  we  confess  that  we  see  them 
ahke  in  only  a  few  particulars.  There  is  the  same  quiet,  sly,  genial, 
good-natured  love  of  laughter  in  botli,  and  the  same  keen  minute 
observation  of  men  and  things,  together  with  a  similar  power  of  ut- 
tering quaint  philosopliy.  in  unexpected  circumstances.  But  Irving 
has  a  broadness  of  caricature  which  docs  not  belong  to  Goldsmith, 
a  coarseness  of  wit  which  Goldsmith  never  shows,  a  bluntness  and 
repulsivencss  of  irony  in  which  the  Englishman  never  indulges.  In 
Irving  there  is  often  an  attempt  at  a  forcible  conclusion  of  a  sentence, 


1856.]     '  Irving's  Works.  545 

f 

and  a  violation  of  good  taste  in  composition,  vrhich  -we  look  in  vain 
for  in  Goldsmith,  who  prunes  a-^-ay  all  needless  words,  and  ap-. 
parently  forcible  conclusions,  most  conscientiously.  On  the  other 
hand,  Irving  sometimes  surpasses  almost  any  other  writer  in  the 
power  and  effect  of  his  morals.  This  is  beautifully  illustrated  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  exposes  the  meanness  of  the  many  practical 
jokes  and  deceptions  played  off  upon  poor  Goldsmith  b}'  his  fun- 
loving  companions.  An  instance  takes  place  at  the  house  of  Sir 
Joshua  Kcynolds.  Burke  charges  Goldsmith  with  vanity  and  envy, 
and  asks  him  if  he  did  not  say  something  very  foolish  when  he 
passed  unnoticed  through  a  crowd  which  had  gathered  to  admire 
and  applaud  some  foreign  ladies.  Oliver,  innocent  and  unsuspect- 
ing, is  completely  ignorant.  "  Why,"  says  ]>urke,  "^lidyou  not  say, 
very  peevishly.  What  stupid  beasts  the  crowd  must  be  for  staring, 
with  such  admiration,  at  these  painted  Jezebels,  while  a  man  of  my 
talents  passes  by  unnoticed!"  Goldsmith,  in  the  honesty  of  his 
loving  heart,  cannot  conceive  such  meanness  in  a  friend,  as  would 
allow  such  a  lie,  and  thinks  it  strange  that  he  has  forgotten  the 
whole  matter;  he  apologizes,  and  says,  "It  was  very  foolish;  I  do 
recollect  that  something  of  the  kind  passed  through  my  mind,  but  I 
did  not  think  I  uttered  it."  Such  is  a  good  joke,  so  mean  and  so 
lying.  And  yet  Irving  makes  the  reader  feel  this  as  no  sermon 
could.  He  tells  the  story  in  such  a  kind,  affectionate  way,  that  in- 
dignation instinctively  swells  up  against  the  man  who  could  play  off 
on  a  friend  anything  so  incorrigibly  detestable. 

The  remainder  of  Irving' s  works  consists  of  a  variety  of  tales, 
sketches,  and  essays,  all  highly  finished,  and  all  pretending  to  be 
more  or  less  fictitious,  but  in  all  of  them  the  plan  is  descriptive, 
rather  than  dramatic.  In  many  fictions  the  authors  seem  to  allow 
each  character  to  exhibit  himself  Irving,  on  the  contrary,  is  the 
showman  whose  voice  you  hear  at  all  times,  explaining  everything 
and  arranging  everything.  A  good  dramatist,  like  immortal  Sl;;ik- 
speare,  appears  not  on  the  stage ;  only  his  characters  are  seen ;  and 
it  matters  not  what  are  the  scenes  or  situations  into  which  they  are 
introduced,  they  act  for  themselves.  The  author  never  has  occa- 
sion to  tell  us  how  they  feel,  or  what  motives  prompt  their  acts ; 
we  learn  this,  as  we  learn  the  motive  and  feelings  of  our  every- day 
companions,  by  their  looks  and  actions.  They  thus  become  living 
creatures,  for  the  writer  has  breathed  into  them  the  breath  of  life. 
The  mere  descriptive  writer  has  to  tell  us,  at  every  moment,  how 
his  creations  will  move  and  feel,  and  what  motives  and  purposes 
actuate  them.  While  we  thus  characterize  Irving  as  a  descriptive, 
and  not  a  dramatic  author,  we  do  not  mean  to  give  hira  any  slight 


546  Irving's  Works.  [October, 

praise  for  excellence  in  his  department.  We  very  much  doubt  if 
any  English  Avriter  has  better  cultivated  this  fertile  region  of  ele- 
gant literature.  His  descriptions  all  possess  that  peculiar  grace 
and  beauty — truth  to  nature.  They  are,  in  fact,  not  exactly  Jiving 
and  acting  at  our  own  place  and  in  our  own  day,  but  we  are  sure 
they  did  live  only  a  little  time  ago.  The  old  Dutch  governors  and 
their  retinues,  the  burgomasters  and  their  dames,  Ichabod  Crane 
and  Dolph  Ileiliger,  and  poor  Kip  Van  Winkle,  did  actually  live, 
and  found  the  Tvorld  somewhat  rough  and  unsympathizing.  Uncle 
Simon,  the  old  Squire,  the  Captain,  and  Lady  Lillebridge,  all  still 
live  far  away  in  old  England,  where  Christmas  games  flourish  and 
yule-logs  burn. 

Fictitious  writings  should  always  be  fruitful  of  character,  inci- 
dent, and  reflection.  To  say  that  short  tales,  such  as  most  of  those 
we  find  in  Irving,  are  favourable  to  either  character  or  incident, 
would  not  be  true  in  any  just  sense.  And  yet  in  these  an  author 
may  seize  upon  just  such  incidents  as  shall  appear  like  pictm-es, 
and  as  shall  unavoidably  interest.  He  may  select  a  crisis  in  his 
hero's  life  which  shall  display  his  character  at  a  stroke.  Thus  he 
has  one  advantage,  that  as  he  passes  over  much  in  writing,  his 
reader  will  scarcely  think  of  passing  over  any  in  reading.  Eut  a 
writer  of  short  tales  and  essays  may  especially  be  profitable  and 
pleasing  in  reflection.  As  everything  is  short,  and  much  is  left  to 
be  inferred,  each  reader  will  feel  disposed  to  hear  every  word. 
And  this  may  perhaps  be  one  gi-and  reason  why  tales  are  so  popular, 
and  generally  so  profitable  to  the  young.  Much  is  left  to  be  sup- 
phed  by  the  reader's  imagination ;  and  who  does  not  know  how  we 
love  to  be  actively  engaged  in  thinking  while  reading,  rather  than 
to  doze  in  listless  idleness  ?  AVe  wish,  in  this  connexion,  to  remark 
that,  although  Irving  abounds  in  pleasing  characters,  in  amusing 
and  striking  incidents,  and  in  profitable  and  interesting  reflections, 
there  is  very  little  of  what  usually  goes  by  the  name  of  origiz^ality 
in  his  works.  Almost  everything  is  modelled  after  something  else, 
and  is  only  peculiar  to  him,  so  far  as  the  language  and  reflection  are 
concerned.  Eip  Van  ^V inkle  and  Dolph  ileiliger  had  both  been 
inhabitants  of  this  world  before  they  lived  in  the  Sketch  Book.  But 
they  did  not  exactly  feel  as  they  did  in  their  last  existence.  There 
are  such  things  in  literature  as  original  characters.  Such  is  Leather 
Stocking  in  Cooper,  and  Rebecca  in  Scott,  and,  perhaps,  School- 
master Ichabod  in  ii'viiig;  but  these  are  not  common.  It  requires  a 
genius,  a  poet,  a  real  maker,  to  bring  the  fire  from  heaven  to  warm 
these  into  life,  and  to  appoint  them  a  mission  on  earth.  This  we 
call  originality  in  its  godlike  sense  and  action.     And  in  this  sense 


1S5G.]  Irving's  Works.  »  547 

we  may  not  pronounce  our  author  noted  for  the  noblest  quality  of 
genius.  His  originality  Hes  in  a  different  sphere.  And  for  all 
practical  purposes  of  accumulating  instruction,  and  improving  man- 
kind in  knowledge,  or  goodness,  and  virtue,  it  is  of  much  more  con- 
sequence M'hat  reflections  flow  through  the  mind,  than  -what  scenes, 
and  incidents,  or  characters  are  presented  to  the  eye.  We  call 
that  preacher  original,  who  can  seize  upon  the  history  of  saint  or 
sinner,  as  it  is  narrated  in  God's  word,  and  from  the  simple  text 
derive  great  lessons  of  instruction,  deducing  therefrom  rellections 
not  before  seen,  or,  at  least,  not  so  powei-fully  felt  till  then,  and,  by 
means  of  the  moral  influence  of  these,  convincing  men  of  duty,  and 
compelling  conscience  to  urge  them  to  the  immediate  performance 
of  that  duty.  We  call  the  same  man  original,  when  from  a  survey 
of  certain  courses  of  action,  he  finds  a  new  weight  to  throw  into  the 
scale,  to  make  the  rewards  and  incentives  of  virtue  prepoudi-rate 
over  those  of  vice.  Shall  we  then  deny  originality  to  him  who, 
from  the  common  incidents  and  the  familiar  scenes  of  human  life, 
can  prompt  in  us  such  emotions,  and  call  up  in  our  minds  such 
reflections  as  shall  enable  us  to  see  a  new  and  Divine  beauty  in  the 
conduct  and  characters  of  our  fellows,  or  as  shall  enable  us  to  realize 
with  more  force  our  own  connexion  with  humanity  ?  And  in  these 
very  points  we  think  that  Irving  excels.  He  does,  by  some  wonder- 
ful magic,  succeed  in  calling  a  host  of  pleasing  emotions  into  our 
minds,  by  the  recital  of  the  commonest  tales  and  the  most  trivial 
incidents,  and  out  of  these  he  makes  to  grow  naturally  the  most 
heart-profiting  reflections. 

The  greatest  charm  in  these  works  is  thrown  over  them  by  a 
heart  full  of  good-nature.  Love  is  everywhere  exhibited.  If  he  is 
ironical,  he  is  not  bitter  and  uncharitable.  However  satirical  he  is, 
there  is  never  the  sneer  of  the  cynic.  However  much  he  ridicules 
folly,  he  never  attempts  to  taunt  and  deride  it.  Genial  social  feel- 
ing overflows  from  every  page,  and  lurks  in  every  talc  and  in  every 
essay.  Our  author  therefore  is  a  good  humourist,  but  not  a  fault- 
finder or  a  croaker.  He  does,  indeed,  seem  to  pour  upon  our  eyes 
an  eye-salve,  which  makes  us  see  a  long  way  into  the  hitherto  dark 
and  unknown  recesses  of  the  human  heart;  yet  still  he  enchants 
those  glances  of  our  eyes,  so  that  they  can  be  no  longer  daggers,  but 
become  like  genial  sunlight  to  heal  and  enrich.  He  manages  so, 
that,  in  very  truth,  you  love  your  neighbour  better,  and  v'our  own 
pride  is  diminished.  He  is  by  no  means  a  cynic  who  sneers  at  the 
same  time  that  he  reproves,  and  thus  tempts  you  to  justify  yourself 
and  3'our  sin,  and  hate  the  author  and  3'our  neighbour.  He  is  a 
genuine  humourist  who  compels  you  to  hate  and  long  to  forsake 


548  Irving's  Works.  [October, 

your  follies,  vhile,  at  the  same  time,  he  actually  obliges  you  to  love 
him  and  to  think  fur  better  of  all  mankind.  The  faults  to  "which  a 
humourist  is  most  exposed,  are  caricature  and  false  combination ;  and 
while  we  admit  tliat  Irving  has  by  no  means  kept  aloof  from  these, 
he  has,  at  least,  made  both  caricature  and  ill-sorted  combinations 
carry  on  their  own  face  so  good-natured  and  modest  an  air,  that  they 
neither  misrepresent  nor  deceive.  Irving's  works  may  be  arranged 
in  groups,  and  every  group  will  possess  something  peculiar  running 
throughout  the  whole  scries.  We  shall  in  this  way  find  the  Hudson 
Eiver  Group,  including  Knickbockcr's  History,  many  of  the  stories 
of  the  Sketch  IJook,  and  a  few  tales  scattered  along  through  Brace- 
bridge  Hall  and  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  The  English  Group  is 
based  on  Bracebridgc  Hall,  and  includes  much  of  the  Sketch  Book, 
the  Tales  of  a  Traveller,  the  Crayon  Miscellany,  and  the  Life  of 
Goldsmith.  The  Spanish  Group  is  composed  of  the  Life  of  Columbus, 
the  History  of  Granada,  the  Alhambra,  and  the  Life  of  Mohammed. 
The  Western  Group  includes  Bonneville's  Adventures,  the  Prairie, 
and  Astoria.  'J'ho  iirst  group  abounds  in  the  best  kind  of  humour; 
the  second  is  somewhat  humorous,  and  yet  is  fuller  of  genial 
description,  and  shows  a  higher  range  of  thought ;  the  third  is  the 
most  ambitions,  and  aims  more  at  communicating;  the  fourth  is 
apparently  more  hastily  written,  and  is  more  commonplace,  both  in 
thought  and  style.  We  may  say  of  it  that  it  is  pleasing,  contains 
much  information,  is  always  easy  in  its  narrative,  and  graceful  in 
composition.  r)Ut  that  it  displays  any  of  his  peculiar  power,  or 
that  it  is  really  Morth  reading  twice,  we  do  not  honestly  believe ; 
that  it  will  ever  be  reprinted  we  cannot  imagine,  except  it  may  be 
twenty  years  hence,  for  the  libraries  of  mere  book-collectors,  who,  of 
course,  always  want  complete  editions.  This  suggests  a  very  im- 
portant inquiry  in  reference  to  Irving's  works ;  how  much  of  them 
will  live  and  be  read  in  the  year  1056  ?  We  cannot,  of  course,  say 
with  any  good  degree  of  accuracy.  But  this  we  can  affirm,  without 
danger  of  successful  contradiction,  that  nothing  can  be  immortal  in 
literature  which  is  not  truly  a  creation.  A  combination  will  remain 
for  a  time,  but  it  has  not  in  itself  the  elements  of  immutability. 
Thus  a  world,  being  a  creation,  produced  only  by  an  infinite  power, 
is  strangely  dlfTi'rent  from  a  palace,  which  is  only  a  combination.  Or, 
to  descend  for  an  illustration,  the  Grecian  order  of  architecture, 
called  the  Corinthian,  is  very  different  from  a  house  with  a  two- 
columned  Corinthian  portico  in  front.  The  order  was  a  creation, 
first  brought  before  the  world  by  the  designer  of  it ;  and  when  rv.cn 
have  conceived  the  beautiful  idea,  that  creation  can  never  die.  The 
house  with  the  Corinthian  portico  is  only  a  combination,  and  will 


1856.]  Bai/ne's  Christian  Life.  549 

never  exist  anywhere  but  on  tlio  one  spot  of  ground  on  which  its 
builder  places  it ;  the  other,  however,  is  so  far  spiritual  and  universal 
that  everybody  who  once  realizes  the  conception  sees  and  loves  it. 
Thus  Shakspeare  really  creates.  Prospero  and  his  daughter  Ariel, 
and  Caliban,  are  true  creations,  and  they  live  and  abide  so  long  as 
men  know  what  life  is.  Addison's  Cato,  on  the  other  hand,  does 
not  live ;  it  is  merely  combined.  Hence  Shakspeare  is  read  for  the 
life  and  soul  in  him,  and  xVddison  is  read  for  the  polish  and  refine- 
ment which  he  exhibits.  "\\"e  gaze  upon  and  admire  a  beautiful 
woman  because  she  is  alive ;  but  .we  look  upon  a  statue  or  a  picture 
of  a  woman  because  it  so  nearly  resembles  life  and  perfection. 

We  afSrm,  therefore,  that  of  Irving's  books,  many  will  survive, 
because  they  are  alive;  and  many  will  perish,  because  they  are 
imitations.  Knickerbocker's  History,  the  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low, Rip  Van  Winkle,  Dolph  Heiliger,  arc  creations ;  most  of  the 
others,  combinations.  And  wliilo  present  and  future  generations  oavc 
him  lasting  gratitude  for  his  beautiful  histories  and  biographies,  we 
fully  believe  that  these  will  yet  be  superseded,  or  will  be  read  by 
subsequent  compilers  alone. 


'^;V-.--:  Art.  m.—BAYNE'S  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.       ~«  -  -'- 

Tiic   Chrislian   Life,    Social   and   Lidividical.     By  Peter  Batm:,  M.  A.     12rao, 
pp.  528.    Boston  :  Gould  &  Lincoln.     1855. 

In  his  exposition  of  the  Parable  of  the  Tares,  Professor  Trench 
remarks,  "  that  evil  is  not,  as  so  many  dream,  gradually  to  wane  and 
to  disappear  before  good,"  but  that  both  arc  to  unfold  themselves 
"more  and  more  mightily,  till  at  last  they  stand  face  ,to  fitco,  each  in 
its  highest  manifestation,  in  the  persons  of  Christ  and  of  Antichirst." 
This  truth,  though  obvious  enough  to  the  student  of  Scripture, 
there  is  reason  to  fear  is,  at  least  in  one  of  its  aspects,  too  little 
pondered  at  the  present  time.  Even  intelligent  Christians  betray  a 
proncness  to  imagine  that,  because  in  the  past  Christianity  has 
triumphed  over  Titanic  forms  of  error,  it  will  never  be  called  to 
similar  encounters ;  that,  because  its  present  status  is  one  of  influ- 
ence and  respectability,  there  is  less  need  than  formerly  for  wariness 
on  the  part  of  its  friends.  The  tendency  of  this  is  to  be  deplored. 
The  measure  of  success,  which,  on  the  day  of  carnage,  turns  the  tide 
of  battle,  as  foretokening  victory,  may  inspirit  for  the  final  charge ; 


550  Baync's  Cliristian  Life.  [October, 

but  if  it  be  allowed  t-o  induce  a  relaxation,  it  v;\\\  likely  prove  the 
cause  of  defeat.  The  success  of  Christianity  hitherto  may  ^vell 
inspire  courage  and  relieve  apprehension ;  but  to  fancy  that  there 
will  be  no  more  hard  fighting  is  a  mistake  fraught  with  danger.  The 
old  spirit  of  antagonism  still  lives,  and,  in  every  shifting  or  tempo- 
rary lull,  is  as  much  to  be  dreaded  as  on  the  open  field.  It  behooves 
those  who  are  set  for  the  defence  of  truth,  to  watch  narrowly  every 
manoeuvre  of  the  foe.  Especially  is  vigilance  called  for  at  the  present 
time,  when  opposition  has  put  on  a  friendly  seeming,  comes,  so  to 
speak,  with  a  truce-flag  waving,  only,  however,  to  deal  a  blow  more 
deadly,  because  unexpoclcd.  Undisguised  infidelity  seldom  ventures 
to  show  its  scathed  and  battered  visage;  yet,  with  equal  hostility, 
so  concealed,  however,  as,  without  scrutiny,  to  escape  detection,  the 
infidel  spirit  was,  perhaps,  never  more  active.  Our  reference  is  not 
so  much  to  thot^c  elaborate  systems  which,  under  pretext  of  refining 
Christianity,  di.?robc  it  of  its  essential  glory,  as  to  the  spirit  which 
animates  much  of  the  more  elevated  type  of  modern  literature  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  With  a  zeal  and  earnestness  befitting  a 
nobler  mission,  some  of  the  mightiest  intellects  of  the  day  have 
devoted  themselves  to  the  promulgation  of  opinions  having  a  religious 
semblance,  yet,  in  reality,  as  truly  antagonistic  to  the  Christian 
scheme  as  were  those  of  Hume  or  Voltaire.  As  was  to  bo  expected, 
a  multitude  of  satellites  have  clustered  around  these  primaries,  and, 
to  the  extent  of  their  reflecting  capacit}',  have  diffused  their  rays 
till  a  whole  section  of  our  current  literature  is  lurid  with  their  baleful 
light.  x\n  able  writer  in  the  North  British  Review  thus  describes 
the  literatm-e  in  question : 

"  It  is  fhe  extreme  reaction  afrainst  the  character  of  our  previous  literature. 
Whereas  the  latter,  with  a  somewhat  atheistic  indifference,  nowhere  sought  a 
Divine  meaning  in  thin;:?,  this  discerns  a  divinity  everywhere,  and  pre- 
eminently in  man  himsLlf,  who  is  the  preat  miracle  of  miraclos.  the  true 
Emaniiol.  V>'liLr.;as  tl.»!  one  w.ns  content  to  rest  on  tlie  mere  surface  and 
mechanism,  the  outward  sensuousuess  and  visibility  of  things,  the  other 
would  penetrate  to  the  living  unity,  the  reality  underlying  all  the  confused 
phenomena  of  oxistonco,  !lie  <jrcat  Jitart  of  the  unu-cr^vr.  This,  in  now  foinillar 
phrase,  is  'the  Divine  idea  of  the  world,'  wliich  'lies  at  the  bottom  of  all 
appearance;'  and  men  of  letters,  who  rise  to  the  consciousness  of  their  true 
functions,  and  become  interpreters  of  this  '  Di\nne  idea,'  arc,  in  the  highest 
sense  of  the  words,  prophets  and  priest';.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  to  over- 
estimate the  import;inec  of  the  literary  function.  It  is  th.e  one  perjjetual 
Priesthood,  from  age  to  ago.  teaching  men  that  God  is  still  present  in  their 
lives.  It  is  the  one  true  Ministry,  ever  presenting  in  new  forms  of  beauty,  in 
richer  and  more  touching  sermons,  the  eternal  truth  of  nature  and  of  life." 

That  this  is  a  fair  exposition  of  the  character  and  tendency  of 
the  literature  of  which  we  speak,  even  random  quotations  wouhl 


1856.]  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  551 

abundantly  confirm.  x\nd,  if  our  judgment  be  not  utterly  at  fault, 
a  serious  danger  threatens  Christianity  from  this  quarter.  The 
chief  ground  of  our  fear  lies  in  the  concession  we  are  forced  to  make, 
namely,  that  this  teaching  asserts,  only  with  undue  emphasis,  an  all- 
important  truth,  heretofore  too  vaguely  recognized.  There  is  a 
defiuable  sense  in  which  divinity  inheres  in  the  universe,  and  espe- 
cially in  man.  From  the  earth  beneath,  with  its  garnered  treasures ; 
from  nature  around,  with  its  grand  and  beautiful  forms,  its  voices  of 
melody,  softest  in  the  zephyr,  loudest  in  the  thunder,  but  harmonious 
everywhere;  from  the  solitudes  of  immensity,  where  shine  afar 
unnumbered  worlds,  comes  the  attestation  of  an  all-pervading 
divinity.  iSIan,  especially,  is  god-like,  bears  the  Divine  image. 
Now  this  truth,  though  embraced  in  our  creeds,  has,  we  are  led  to 
fear,  with  the  mass  of  Christians  even,  lost  its  living  force.  It  is 
our  habit  to  look  upon  the  universe  as  a  mechanism,  infinitely 
more  perfect,  indeed,  than  anything  merely  human,  yet  devoid  of 
any  special  Divine  significance.  So  far,  therefore,  as  these  Uitcra- 
tcurs  have  succeeded  in  convincing  men  that  all  things  tell  of  God, 
we  accept  their  service  with  due  thanks.  But  they  do  not  stop 
here.  According  to  them,  this  omnipresent  divinity  culminates  in 
man,  finds  in  him  its  only  conscious  manifestation.  As  a  sequence 
comes  the  mandate,  "Fall  down  and  worship"  him.  The  most 
gifted,  or,  more  correctly,  the  most  Divine  man  is  the  worthiest 
object  of  worship.  And  literature,  being  the  interpreter  of  this 
ubiquitous  divinity,  becomes,  in  the  exercise  of  its  function,  not 
merely  religious,  but  religion,  "the  most  authentic  worship." 

Now  the  peculiar  danger  from  this  teaching,  of  which  we  have 
confessed  an  apprehension,  springs  mainly  from  the  fact  that  it  con- 
tains an  clement  of  truth,  capable  of  being  so  presented  as  to  divert 
attention  from  the  pernicious  error  in  which  it  terminates.  The 
nobility  of  man,  and  the  grandeur  of  his  terrestrial  home,  are 
themes  likeliest  of  all  others  to  be  greeted  with  a  cordial  welcome. 
Yet,  were  the  system  of  these  soi-disant  teachers  broadly  and  determ- 
inately  stated  in  their  writings,  were  it  explicitly  affirmed  that 
there  is  no  being  more  Divine  than  man,  the  danger  hence  arising 
would  be  insignificant.  We  retain  an  unshaken  faith  in  the  strength 
and  universality  of  that  religious  instinct  which,  as  a  stern  voice  in 
every  human  bosom,  evermore  appeals  from  such  an  affirmation. 
The  consciousness  of  men.  irrespective  of  creed  or  condition,  is  a 
testimony,  variable  only  in  strength,  to  the  existence  of  something 
higher  and  more  Divine  than  man.  Not  easily,  therefore,  can  men 
be  induced  to  accept  a  dogma  so  contradictory  of  their  most  sacred 
impulses,  unless  it  be  foisted  upon  them,  unless   the  abhorrent 


552  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

potion  be  rendered  inviting  by  foreign  mixture.  And  this  is  tbe  pre- 
cise manner  of  its  presentation,  at  least  in  the  writings  of  Mr.  Carlyle. 
Kowhere  does  he,,  in  systematic  outline,  develop  his  scheme.  It  is, 
for  the  most  part,  an  undertone,  only  novr  and  then  rising  to  audible 
distinctness.  The  doctrine,  -which,  if  nakedly  presented,  would 
excite  a  general  revulsion,  is  so  interwoven  with  important  and 
strongly- expressed  truth,  as  to  necessitate  for  its  detection  a  keener 
discrimination  tliau  mosc  persons  are  apt  to  exercise.  In  quasi- 
religious  dialect  there  is  abundant  talk  about  "  Makers  laws,"  "  Sinai 
thunder,"  '^Gospels,"  "reverences,"  and  the  like;  but,  when  the 
drift  is  ascertained,  it  is  only  too  evident  that  the  real  meaning,  of 
which  this  diction  is  made  the  vehicle,  is  far  other  than  its  use  would 
naturally  suggest.  Under  cover  of  belabouring  the  shams  and 
inveracities  of  the  age,  occasion  is  sought  to  deal  out  blows,  as 
fierce  as  deadly,  against  all  that  is  most  real  and  veritable  Avithin 
the  range  of  human  cognizance.  Thus,  as  in  the  case  of  the  olden 
apple,  the  goodly  appearance  of  the  bait  constitutes  its  chief  allure- 
ment. As  the  skiiy,  seemingly  impelled  by  its  "own  sweet  will," 
glides  smoothly  down  some  untried  stream,  its  occupant  the  while, 
entranced  with  beautiful  visions  of  the  shore,  being  all  unconscious 
of  the  nearing  rapids  and  the  cataract  beyond,  till,  when  too  late, 
the  roar  of  falling  waters  breaks  the  spell,  so,  there  is  reason  to  fear, 
the  unwary  who  commit  themselves  to  the  current  which,  in  the 
•writings  of  this  school,  sweeps  away  with  strong  and  majestic  flow, 
amid  surroundings  of  confessed  truthfulness  and  beauty,  toward  the 
shores  of  a  godivss  Tanthcism,  will,  in  like  manner,  be  lured  to 
destruction.  , 

That  this  is  no  imaginary  danger,  the  saddest  proof  lies  open  to 
the  gaze  of  all  who,  v/ith  slight  attention,  inspect  the  character  and 
tendency  of  prevalent  opinions.  The  ease  with  which  a  plausible 
error  makes  its  way  among  men  was,  perhaps,  never  more  strikingly 
illustrated.  Already  its  iullucnce  is  wide-spread..  The  press,  in  a 
whole  class  of  its  publications,  ranging  from  the  sheet  of  daily  issue 
up  to  the  carefully- crli  ted  volume,  is  flooding  the  age  with  sentiments 
of  which,  amid  whatever  minor  diversity,  generic  identity  is  pred- 
icable;  sentiments  whoso  essential  characteristic  is  the  assertion 
that  all  genuine  improvement  in  men  is  merely  a  development  of 
some  latent  good  of  their  nature,  and  that  this  development  can 
proceed  independent  of  Divine  spiritual  aid.  The  pulpit,  too,  in 
some  sadly  notable  instances,  has  lent  itself  to  this  unholy  service. 
The  result  of  the  whole  is  that,  in  unwonted  quarters,  the  concession 
that  Christianity  is  what  it  claims  to  be  is  now  withheld.  In  its 
stead  we  have  the  assertion,  either  explicit  or  by  fair  implication. 


185G.]  Baynes  Christian  Life.  553 

that  Christianity  is  not  the  best,  stilt  less  the  sole,  means  of  effect- 
ing genuine  reform,  as  respects  the  individual  or  society.  Hence 
it  is  either  ■wholly  set  aside  as  superfluous,  or,  at  most,  is  con- 
descendingly invited  to  perform  some  under-service  in  the  achieve- 
ment of  human  melioration. 

Believing  that  this  result,  relative  to  Christianity,  is  the  uldmate 
goal — ofrener  concealed,  however,  than  distinctly  avowed — to  which. 
iuiluences,  at  present  widely  diifused  and  busily  at  work,  inevitably 
tend,  we  hail,  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  not  excited  by  any  recent 
publication  we  have  seen,  the  book  whose  title  stands  at  the 
head  of  this  paper.  If  we  do  not  misjudge,  it  bears  the  promise  of 
an  efficient  counteraction  of  those  tendencies  which,  with  some 
minuteness,  we  have  endeavoured  truthfully  to  exhibit,  certainly 
have  not  over-stated.  To  do  this  is  the  author's  chief  aim.  Other 
forms  of  eiTor  are  dealt  with  in  the  course  of  the  performance:  but 
the  principal  force  of  his  argument  is  levelled  against  that  lurking 
Pantheism,  which,  to  so  great  an  extent,  now  pollutes  the  sanctuaries 
of  thought  and  feeling.  * 

The  author  regards  Mr.  Carlyle  as  the  Anglican  exponent  and 
chief  propagandist  of  this  modified  Pantheism.  Against  his  reprc-- 
sentation  of  it  thereiore,  he  mainly  directs  his  attack.  Overlooking, 
the  crowd  of  aping  servitors  v.ho  have  gathered  to  his  standard,  he 
singles  out  and  engages  the  champion  himself,  rightly  judging  that,. 
if  Goliath  be  slain,  the  Philistines  will  disband. 

It  can  scarcely  fail  to  conciliate  those  who  witness  this  contest,  as 
it  transpires  on  his  page,  that  he  avows,  and  everywhere  evinces, 
the  highest  appreciation  of  what  Mr.  Carlyle  is,  and  has  done.  His. 
admiration  of  his  genius  borders  on  extravagance.  He  regards  the- 
age  as  owing  him  an  immense  debt,  in  that  he  has  brought  to  its 
recollection  certain  important,  but  nearly  forgotten  truths.  He  con- 
fesses to  a  personal  obligation  for  the  favourable  influence  of  his 
writings  ou  his  own  style  and  mode  of  thought.  Surely,  then,  an 
eye  so  friendly  Avill  not  discern  errors  were  none  exist,  A  mind 
obviously  strong  and  healthy,  free  of  eccentricity,  will  not  capriciou.=ly 
turn  against  a  friend.  The  blow  that  falls  reluctantly,  is  not  dealt 
without  a  cause.  The  manly  fairness,  too,  which  characterizes  the 
manner  of  the  controversy,  can  but  disarm  prejudice,  and  secure  a 
favourable  hearing  for  the  results  which  in  its  course  arc  reached. 
Few,  indeed,  are  the  instances  of  debate  so  serious  being  conducted 
in  a  manner  so  calm.  Truth,  rather  than  triumph,  is  the  obvious 
aim.  He  states  Mr.  Carlyle's  positions  with  an  accuracy  which  no 
one,  who  has  pondered  his  writings  with  suflicient  care  to  get  their 
meaning,  can  foil  to  accord ;  and  then  follows  those  positions  to  their 

FouKTii  Series,  Vol.  VIH.— 35 


554  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

consequences  with  a  logical  directness  -whicli  commands  assent  at 
every  step.  Gazing  on  his  system  with  an  eye  that  sees  in  it  much 
to  admire,  he  detects  what  seem  indications  of  rottenness  at  the 
core.  AVith  a  firm  hand  and  resolute  purpose  he  applies  the  probe; 
yet  it  is  apparent  that  the  discovery  of  radical  unsoundness  occasions 
only  pain.  But  the  discover}'  once  made,  and  the  danger  clearly 
apprehended,  he  addresses  himself,  with  an  earnestness  born  only  of 
sincerity,  and,  we  venture  to  add,  with  a  success  clearly  bespeaking 
rare  abilities,  to  its  exposure  and  eradication. 

The  form  of  the  work  is  somewhat  fragmentary ;  but  this  by  no 
means  impairs  its  unity.  In,  fact,  it  is  that  particular  arrangement 
■which  gives  the  book  a  seeming  incoherence,  that  becomes,  iii  the 
unfolding  of  the  general  argument,  the  chief  instrument  of  its  over- 
whelming force.  To  evince  the  superiority  of  Christianity  as  a 
procurer  of  social  and  individual  regeneration,  is  the  end  proposed ; 
and  the  whole  discussion,  whether  by  argument  or  e.xem.pliScation, 
is  made  to  subserve  tliis  end  with  singular  felicity,  and  with  cumu- 
lative force.  The  general  method  pursued  may,  with  sufficient 
accuracy,  be  described  as  that  of  contrast.  The  current  Pantheistic 
theory  of  individual  and  social  reformation  is  brought  into  juxta- 
position with  that  of  the  Bible.  The  agencies  and  modes  of  pro- 
cedure peculiar  to  each  arc  brought  forward  in  full  and  lucid  state- 
ment. The  contrast,  both  as  respects  the  theories  themselves  and 
their  appliances,  is  fairly  exhibited,  and  results  undeniably  in  favour 
of  Christianity.  But  the  author  does  not  stop  here.  He  subjects 
'each  theory  to  the  infallible  test  of  actual  working;  and  while,  in 
this  trial,  the  one  is  found  wanting,  the  efficiency  of  the  other  is  put 
in  the  clear  light  of  demonstration,  by  exhibiting  its  effects  in  the  life 
^and  conduct  of  eminently  representative  men.  This,  comprehen- 
:sively,  is  the  outline  of  the  first  two  general  divisions  of  the  work. 
In  the  third,  designated  the  Outlook,  the  Positive  Philosophy  is 
briefly  examined.  Beasons  are  assigned  for  regarding  it  as  unquali- 
fiedly atheistic;  wliile  the  excellences  which  have  already  secured 
•to  it  a  wide  popularity,  and  will,  probably  for  years  to  come,  pre- 
'Serve  and  augment  it,  are  fully  admitted.  As  with  other  antagonisms. 
however,  this  one  is  to  be  battled  with,  and  overcome.  Kespecting  the 
future  contest,  the  inquiry.  What  is  the  degi-ee  of  hope  which 
may  be  safely  reposed  in  the  forces  which  Pantheism  and  Chris- 
tianity, as  alike  holding  of  the  spiritual,  can  respectively  oppose  to 
this  formidable  negation  of  all  spiritualism?  is  fiir  enough  pursued  to 
show  that  here,  again,  Christianity  has  the  whole  advantage.  In  the 
first  skirmish  Pantheism  will  go  down;  when  the  dust  of  battle  has 
•cleared  away,  Christianity  will  appear  sole  occupant  of  the  field. 


1856.1  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  555 

As  it  vrill  be  possible  to  dwell  minutely  on  a  few  only  of  the 
more  prominent  features  of  the  work,  we  have  made  this  synoptic 
statement  of  its  scope  and  method,  in  the  hope  that  the  reader  may 
be  led  b}'  it  to  procure  the  book,  and  become  familiar  with  its  treat- 
ment. To  be  successful  in  this,  we  would  esteem  a  result  only  less 
to  be  coveted  than  the  authorship  of  the  work  itself 

Pantheism  ignores  the  Divine  personality.  The  separate  exist- 
ence  of  a  Divine  Being  once  proved,  the  system  is  left  without  a 
foundation.  To  do  this  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  candid  is  certainly 
possible.  Confining  himself  to  the  testimony  of  conscience,  Mr. 
Bayne  draws  out  an  argument  little  short  of  demonstration.  Two 
considerations,  the  one  a  necessary  law  of  mind,  the  other  a 
phenomenon  of  consciousness,  both,  therefore,  of  the  nature  of 
axioms,  compel  the  belief  that  conscience  speaks  by  a  delegated 
authority.  The  mind,  by  its  very  constitution,  demands  a  cause 
for  every  effect.  Nihil  turpius  quam  fieri  sine  causa  quicqiiaya 
dicerc.  This  is  the  law.  The  consciousness  of  men,  throughout 
the  ages,  has  witnessed  to  the  fact  that  they  have  not  regarded  the 
voice  of  the  inward  monitor  as  final,  as  speaking  on  its  own 
authority.  They  have  ever  seen  it  pointing  tc  some  power  external 
to  itself  Their  actions,  whenever  it  has  spoken,  arc  significant  of 
this  or  of  nothing.  AVhen  its  voice  has  been  heard  in  tones  of 
reproval,  the  victim  has  been  made  to  bleed,  the  fire  of  sacrifice 
been  kindled,  in  the  hope  of  thus  appeasing  "  some  external  power 
believed  capable,  in  what  Avay  soever,"  of  silencing  their  fears  and 
allaying  their  inquietude.  When  its  approving  utterance  has 
awakened  a  feeling  of  self- complaisance,  this  was  deemed  suggestive 
of  a  more  glorious  reward.  "  Before  the  eye,  resting  afar,  as  on  the 
still  evening  horizon  of  a  troubled  day,  there  beamed  out  softly  the 
Elysian  fields,  with  their  tranquil  rivers,  on  whose  banks  rested 
heroes,  and  their  unfading  flowers  that  breathed  balm  odours  through 
the  cloudless  air."  This  is  the  plienomenon.  What  is  its  explana- 
tion ?  It  is  clearly  inexplicable,  save  as  an  instance  of  the  working 
of  that  law  which  necessitates  the  finding  of  a  cause  for  every  effect. 
This  constant  endeavour  of  the  human  race,  in  ways  manifold,  to 
look  outward  when  the  voice  has  spoken  within,  was,  therefore,  the 
prompting  of  a  conscious  necessity,  an  instinctive  outgoing  of  the 
mind  in  quest  of  some  invisible  power,  from  Avhich  the  internal 
monition  was  believed  to  come.  The  fact,  then,  that  con.-cience 
speaks  with  an  authority  not  inherent,  but  derived,  is  thus  linked 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  race,  and  hence  rests  on  evidence 
"whose  assailing  is  the  assailing  of  the  possibility  of  truth.''  To  7rhat 
authority  it  refers  can  never  be  a  question :  there  can  be  but  One. 


556  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

This  argument  is  brief,  but,  -vtc  think,  conclusive.  Alone  it  is 
Bufilcicnt.  It,  ho^Yever,  docs  not  exhaust  the  proof.  Even  for  those 
•with  -whom  the  distinct  utterances  of  the  Bible  on  this  point  have 
not  the  force  of  a  decisive  authority,  there  is  additional  evidence 
vrhich  can  be  evaded  by  no  allo^Yablc  shift.  We  merely  glance  at  a 
single  other  argument,  forbearing  any  lengthened  statement  of  it. 
The  perfection  of  human  beings  consists  in  their  possession  of  in- 
tellect, sensibility,  and  ^vill;  of  the  attributes,  that  is,  v,hich  consti- 
tute their  persunalUy.  It  is  the  possession  of  personal  being  that 
gives  to  man  his  superiority  over  all  the  visible  creation.  "What- 
ever is  destitute  of  jjersonality,  as  is  the  All  of  Pantheism,  is  mani- 
festly less  perfect  than  man.  But  this  contradicts  the  notion  of  God 
which  even  that  system  holds.  As  an  essentiality  of  the  perfection 
vrhich  must  necessaril}^  inhere  in  God,  personality  is,  therefore,  in- 
cluded. 

It  is  the  special  boast  of  Pantheism,  in  all  its  modifications,  that 
the  theory  which  it  holds  r<;specting  God,  and  man,  and  the  universe, 
is,  of  all  others,  the  most  consonant  with  reason,  and  hence  the 
worthiest  to  be  received.  But  ho^Y  utterly  this  boast  lacks  even  the 
semblance  of  a  time  foundation,  is  made  to  appear  by  bringing  its 
theory  into  contact  with  that  of  Christianity.  Our  author's  execu- 
tion of  this  task  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  His  reasoning  here 
has  the  fmish  of  net-work,  and  his  page  glows  with  fervid  eloquence. 

It  helps  to  a  just  appreciation  of  the  surpassing  advantage  which 
Christianity  here  jio^scs.'^es,  to  conceive  clearly  the  amount  of  infor- 
mation respecting  God  to  which  ])hilosophy,  in  its  farthest  reach,  is 
able  to  attain.  To  minds  of  the  highest  order,  belief  in  a  God  has 
ever  been  a  necessity — the  one  possible  solution  of  difficulties  infi- 
nitely more  perplexing  than  tliat  which  such  a  belief  involves.  This 
belief  enters  the  creed  of  the  Pantheist  as  of  the  Christian ;  the  dif- 
ference being  that,  to  the  former,  imagination,  mistaken  for  reason, 
supplies  the  cuncLjuiuu  of  what  God  is;  while  to  the  latter,  the 
dicta  of  an  authentic  revelation  furnish  this  conception.  It  were 
certainly  not  difficult  to  conjecture  beforehand  which  conception 
would  most  approve  itself  to  reason,  and  which  consequently  would 
have  the  advantage  in  its  practical  influence  over  mankind.  But 
conjecture  is  not  needed.  The  conception  of  each  has  been  given 
a  verbal  expressioi^  and  their  respective  worth  may  be  estimated  by 
comparison.  The  utmost  which  even  the  high  priest  of  Pantheism 
has  been  able  to  communicate  concerning  God  is,  that  He  is  "  the 
pure  negation  of  all  conci-ivability,  associated  with  infinite  and  eter- 
nal lovableness,"  an  idea,  (rather  a  palpable  absurdity),  which,  how- 
ever suited  to  speculative  dreaming,  undeniably  mocks  the  instinct- 


1856.]  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  557 

ive  yearnin^^s  of  humanity,  by  shutting  it  up  to  a  hopeless  preclu- 
sion from  all  intercourse  -vvith  God.  Side  by  side  with  this  impos- 
sible conception,  place  the  disclosures  of  revelation,  and  it  cannot 
foil  to  be  perceived  that  a  great  accession  of  light  is  thrown  upon  the 
mystery.  Inscrutable,  incapable  of  being  found  out,  to  perfection, 
as  the  Infinite  must  of  necessity  be,  j-et  Christianity  so  lifts  the  veil 
that,  in  no  unmeaning  sense, 

"  God  is  seeu  by  mortal  eye." 

Apart  from  many  sublime  descriptive  passages,  the  Bible  furnishes 
two  specific  sources  of  information  respecting  God,  from  which  as 
much  may  be  gathered  as  is  possible  to  faiite  comprehension.  The 
first  is  the  assertion  that  man  was  created  in  the  image  of  God,  and 
afterward,  when  this  Divine  similitude  had  been  impaired,  the  speci- 
fication of  the  constituents  of  its  proposed  renewal.  Each  of  these, 
"knowledge,  righteousness,  and  holiness,"  conveys  a  definite  idea  to 
the  mind,  and  together  they  make  up  the  sum  of  all  conceivable  ex- 
cellence. The  other  and  chief  source  of  communication  is  the  in- 
carnation of  the  Godhead  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  him 
the  Divine  image  is  perfect.  His  recorded  life  is  a  mirror,  in  which 
whoever  will  may  behold  the  Deity  reflected  in  fulness  and  clearness 
of  manifestation,  compared  with  which  all  that  is  elsewhere  shadowed 
can  be  seen  only  as  faint  and  unsatisfactory.  No  wooing  or  ques- 
tioning of  nature,  however  fond  or  earnest,  can  call  forth  more  than 
an  inarticulate  voice,  or  be  rewarded  with  more  than  vague  discovery 
concerning  Ilim  who  fills  the  throne  of  the  universe;  but  in  Him, 
who  was  "  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory  and  the  express  im- 
age of  his  person,"  is  revealed  all  that  can  be  known.  The  aspect, 
however,  in  which  the  Divine  man  is  to  be  viewed,  as  in  the  highest 
sense  revealing  God,  is  in  his  character  of  Redeemer.  As  manifes- 
tations of  Divine  power,  and  wisdom,  and  love,  his  miracles,  and 
teaching,  and  sympathy  have  an  imprcs&iveness  surpassing  all  that 
can  elsewhere  be  discerned ;  but  it  is  the  consideration  that  he  is  the 
restorer  to  men  of  their  lost  inheritance,  the  medium  through  which 
each  separate  spirit  of  man  may  be  brought  into  closest  intimacy 
with  God,  that  specially  vindicates  his  claim  to  be  "the  light  and 
life  of  men." 

Quite  independent  of  the  teaching  of  any  system,  is  the  fact  that 
the  human  race  has  ever  felt  itself  to  be  bereft  of  some  good,  be- 
lieved to  have  been  its  original  birthright.  To  repossess  itself  of 
this  lost  inheritance,  a  glance  along  its  history  shows  to  have  been 
an  effort  in  which  it  has  never  ceased  to  toil,  and  a  hope  which  it 
has  never,  in  the  darkest  hour,  abandoned.     That  sublime  passage 


558  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

of  the  apostle,  "  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  \Yaitcth  for 
the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God,"  but  recognizes  and  affirms  a 
deeply  graven  truth  of  universal  consciousness.  Any  system,  there- 
fore, claiming  to  meet  tbe  wants  of  men,  must  at  least  profess  to 
show  how  this  lost  blessedness,  so  earnestly  longed  for,  may  be  re- 
gained. To  effect  its  recoverj^  is  that  problem  of  the  individual 
life,  to  solve  which  our  author  seeks  to  test  ihQ  respective  compe- 
tence of  the  two  systems  under  review. 

Pantheism  teaches  that,  at  some  period  in  his  life,  the  Divine  in 
man  causes  itself  to  be  felt,  and  stirs  the  soul  from  its  lowest  depths ; 
that,  under  a  painful  sense  of  imperfection,  and  of  the  insufficiency 
of  the  objects  hitherto  delighted  in  longer  to  afford  him  happiness, 
he  is  led  to  cost  an  anxious  look  around  the  universe,  in  the  hope 
that  some  voice  may  be  heard  to  soothe  his  agitations,  that  some 
light  may  break  forth  to  point  his  way  to  a  region  of  calm.  At 
length  deliverance  comes;  the  storm  subsides;  the  grim  spectres 
which  throng  his  path  retire;  the  cloud  which  erewhile  overhung 
his  spirit  lifts  itself  and  floats  away,  revealing  a  sky  serene  and 
beautiful.  The  soul,  wrapt  in  lofty  musings,  and  attuned  to  har- 
mony with  the  myriad  voices  and  expi-essive  silences  of  the  universe, 
now  reads,  as  in  tracery  of  light,  the  great  truths  that  the  All  is  God. 
that  itself  is  but  an  atom  of  the  miiversal  Divine,  and  that  its  happi- 
ness must  henceforth  be  to  lose  itself  in  "unconscious,  everlasting 
trance." 

A  state  of  inquietude  and  of  subsequent  repose,  somewhat  analo- 
gous to  this,  attends  the  saving  experience  of  Christianity.  "  Awak- 
ened," in  the  words  of  Coleridge,  "by  the  cock-crow,  (a  sermon,  a 
calamity,  a  sick  bed,  or  providential  escape,)"  the  individual,  hith- 
erto at  ease  as  respects  his  present  and  future  condition,  becomes 
suddenly  alive  to  fearful  apprehensions  concerning  both.  The  con- 
sciousness of  shortcoming:  and  of  consequent  guilt,  the  certain  an- 
ticipation of  aju.st  retribution,  occasion  inward  disquiet,  sometimes 
reaching  in  its  crisis  an  intense  agony  of  spirit.  Upon  the  soul,  led 
by  this  painful  discipline,  this  fear  which  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom, 
to  prostrate  itself  in  utter  self-abasement  before  God,  there  comes  a 
joy  so  pure  and  satisfying  that  the  pangs  in  which  it  was  born  are 
forgotten,  or  take  their  place  among  the  pleasant  memories  of  its 
subsequent  existence. 

Kow  it  needs  but  a  glance  to  discover,  in  the  last  of  these  in- 
stances of  conversion,  a  reasonableness  and  a  hopefulness  of  good 
wholly  wanting  in  the  first.  Of  that  darkness  and  sorrow  which 
precede  the  soul's  emergence  into  light  and  joy,  Pantheism  assigns 
no  cause.     Guilt  is  not  recognized.     All  this  convulsive  perturba- 


1S56.]  Baynes  Christian  Life.  559 

tion  is  merely  the  Divine  in  man,  admonishing  him  to  turn  from  the 
sensual  to  the  spiritual.  The  transition,  too,  is  equally  unsatisfac- 
tory. Goaded  as  by  pursuing  demons,  till  it  stands  on  the  verge 
of  despair,  pressed  down  as  by  superincumbent  mountains,  the 
soul  gathers  its  energies  for  a  last  struggle.  Its  prison  trembles. 
Through  rifted  seams  in  the  thick-piled  darkness,  liglit  breaks  in. 
With  a  confusion,  as  of  routed  ^yan•iors,  its  enemies  retire.  The 
soul  is  henceforth  free.  Now,  at  most,  this  is  but  a  self-conversion. 
One  determined  effort  of  the  individual  -will  achieves  the  mighty  de- 
liverance. A  single  passage  from  Sartor  Resartus  will  show  that 
this  is  the  light  in  which  Mr.  Carlyle  regards  it.  "Mountains  of 
encumbrance,  higher  than  ^Etna,  had  been  heaped  over  that  spirit: 
but  it  was  a  spirit,  and  would  not  lie  buried  there.  Through  long 
days  and  nights  of  silent  agony,  it  struggled  and  wrestled  with  a 
vian's  force  to  be  free  :  how  its  prison-mountains  heaved  and  swayed 
tumultuously,  as  the  giant  spirit  shook  them  to  this  hand  and  that, 
and  emerged  into  the  light  of  heaven." 

Chvistiajiity  affords  a  rational  solution  of  that  bitter  experience 
through  which  the  soul  must  pass  to  spiritual  freedom.  It  repre- 
sents men  as  the  born  thralls  of  sin ;  teaches  that  the  depravity  of 
the  first  pair  has  descended  through  the  long  line  of  their  posterity, 
not  one  escaping:  that,  consequently,  guilt  attaches  to  the  whole 
race.  When  the  soul,  by  whatever  means,  is  brought  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  this  sad  fact — sees  itself  a  culprit  before  the  righteous 
Judge — it  is  impossible  to  conceive  its  emotions  as  being  other  than 
of  keenest  anguish.  Hence  the  agony  which  convulses  the  soul 
struggling  into  freedom,  is  fully  accounted  for  by  the  fact  of  human 
guilt.  But  what  is  the  end  of  this  painful  discipline  'i  Is  it  to  nen-e 
the  soul  for  a  giant  effort  to  free  itself?  Precisely  the  reverse,  says 
Christianity.  If  this  sharp  schooling  have  not  brouglit  the  sinner, 
in  complete  self-renunciation,  to  fix  his  eye  on  the  One  "  might}'  to 
save,"  its  work  is  not  yet  done.  Sliarpcr  must  be  .the  pangs  ;  every 
reed  must  be  broken;  from  the  abyss  of  helplessness  must  come  the 
cry,  Save  Thou,  or  I  perish !     To  effect  this  is  the  ofilce  of  soitow. 

But  the  point  to  be  especially  distinguished,  and  which,  though 
everywhere  implied  in  the  discussion  of  our  author,  is  not,  we  think, 
assigned  a  fitting  prominence,  is  the  essential  nature  of  the  change 
which,  in  each  case,  has  taken  place,  and  its  probable  avail  toward 
the  end  proposed — the  right  formation  of  character.  True,  from  the 
fact  that,  in  the  one  instance,  the  power  relied  on  for  this  end  is  evoked 
from  within,  while,  in  the  other,  it  descends  from  above,  he  asserts 
the  futility  of  the  first,  and  strongly  maintains  the  complete  efficacy 
of  the  last.     We  grant  that  he  makes  his  point  good;  but  he  would, 


560  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

we  think,  Iiavc  put  it  in  a  clearer  liglit,  had  he  endeavoured,  not  in- 
deed to  exhaust,  but  definitely  to  exhibit  what  is  implied  in  the 
Christian  conversion,  as  a  new  birth.  Of  this  mysterious  change 
itself  it  is  possible  to  ^ivc  no  intelli,i:ible  account ;  but,  in  what  the 
vantage-ground  for  improvement,  enjoyed  by  him  on  whom  this 
change  has  passed,  essentially  consists,  it  were  easy  to  show.  A 
power  from  above  is  revealed  in  him.  Under  its  workings  he  be- 
comes a  new  man — his  nature  changed  in  its  inmost  principles. 
The  balance,  the  nice  adjustment,  the  correspondence,  part  to  part, 
of  his  moral  and  intellectual  being,  hitherto  deranged,  are  now 
restored.  His  spiritual  vision,  cleared  of  all  film,  readily  discerns 
what  his  truest  interest  demands.  His  will  chooses  accordingly, 
and  the  power  to  execute  his  choice  he  now  possesses.  This  recti- 
fication of  his  nature.  Divinely  superinduced,  brings  it  within  his 
power,  nay,  makes  it  his  pleasure,  to  exercise  that  self-control  and 
to  cultivate  those  tempers  on  which  the  perfecting  of  that  nature  is 
conceded  to  depend.  Jn  addition,  and  what  is  worthy  of  especial 
note,  this  rectiucatiun  is  ever  becoming  more  complete,  and,  conse- 
quently, its  availableness  to  the  end  in  question  is  constantly  in- 
creasing. Spiritual  growth  is  the  condition  of  spiritual  life — the 
hecessary  ground  of  its  perpetuity.  The  force  and  variety  of  the 
figures  used  by  the  Saviour  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  his  spiritual 
kingdom,  clearly  settle  this.  At  one  time  it  is  gi'ain  springing  up, 
growing,  maturing,  gathered  into  the  barn.  At  another  it  is  tlie 
mustard-seed  spreading  to  the  stately  proportions  of  the  giant  tree, 
sheltering  the  fuv.ls  of  heaven.  Again  it  is  a  leaven  diffusing  itself 
throughout  the  mass.  The  change  of  man's  nature,  then,  is  not  the 
whole  of  what  religion  proposes.  It  bears  a  relation  to  the  finished 
result,  similar  to  that  which  infancy  bears  to  manly  maturity.  One 
is  the  beginning  avA  requisite  of  the  other;  but,  in  each  case,  growth 
must  secure  the  completion.  Hence,  the  fact  that  the  Divine  life 
which  the  ne-.v  b:r;!i  in;mguvatcs  in  the  soul  of  man  receives  con- 
tinual increiuent,  renders  increasingly  certain  the  ultimate  attain- 
.ment  of  individual  perfection. 

The  other  instance  of  conversion  ignores  all  idea  of  imparted 
power.  Few  writers,  it  must  be  granted,  excel  Mr.  Carlyle  in 
graphic  power;  and  his  writings,  perhaps,  contain  no  more  glow- 
ing passages,  than  those  in  which  he  describes  the  serene  ble^sed- 
i^icss  of  him  who  has  broken  away  from  the  bondage  of  sense.  Yet 
this  sublime  feat,  it  is  boasted,  is  his  own  achievement.  Some 
power  hitherto  existing,  though  unconsciously  to  himself,  in  the 
secret  depths  of  his  nature,  h:is  obeyed  his  call;  and,  in  its  strength, 
he  ha=!  shivered  his  chains  and  emerged  into  freedom.     ^Vhateve^ 


1856.]  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  5G1 

improvement  is  to  follow  must  be  in  virtue  of  the  growing  might  of 
this  awakened  power.  To  argue  the  impotence  of  such  a  rc-liance 
to  effect  any  genuine  reform,  in  the  face  of  all  that  history  utters, 
and  our  own  experience  confirms,  were  certainly  a  usele.-s  tusk.  The 
marvel  is  that  men  of  unquestioned  ability  should  embrace  a  notion 
so  absurd. 

Even  admitting,  therefore,  which  yet  cannot  be  done,  that  Panthe- 
ism discovers  to  men  what  it  behooves  them  to  do,  or  fail  of  their 
highest  good,  yet  as  it  bids  them  attempt  it  in  their  own  strength, 
demonstrably  insufficient,  it  falls  immeasurably  below  that  Divine 
system  which  not  only  reveals  infallibl}'  what  must  be  done,  but 
furnishes  such  assistance  as  brings  its  performance  within  the  power 
of  the  feeblest  of  our  race. 

The  fairest  way  of  testing  whether  Christianity  be  thus  eflicacious, 
is  by  experiment.  To  satisfy  those  who  refuse  to  subject  it  to  this 
test  in  their  own  cases,  the  fairest  method  remaining  is  to  bring 
from  the  laboratory  of  actual  life,  where  the  experiment  is  being  per- 
formed, those  on  whom  the  trial  has  passed,  and  to  exhibit  truthfully 
the  process  and  result.  If  the  subjects  brought  forward  be  suffi- 
ciently numerous  to  justify  a  fair  induction,  we  see  not  on  what 
ground  any  valid  objection  can  be  urged.  Especially  if  the  cases 
selected  were  those  in  which  it  was  least  likely  that  success  would 
follow,  and  still  the  result  is  seen  to  be  all  that  was  claimed,  it  may 
be  inferred,  a  fortiori,  that  it  would  be  so  in  every  case  on  which 
the  influence  of  Christianit}'  might  be  brought  to  bear.  On  this 
ground,  substantially,  our  author  puts  his  cause.  xVfter  adducing 
what,  may  be  called  the  argumentative  proof  that  Christianity  is  the 
true  basis  of  individual  character,  he  exhibits  the  experimental. 
Foster,  Arnold,  and  Chalmers  are  his  subjects.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether,  as  a  whole,  this  selection  is  the  best  that  could  have  been 
made.  Some,  at  least,  believe  that  Foster  is  not  one  of  the  hap]iicst 
illustrations  of  the  formative  power  of  religion.  If,  hoAvevcr.  there 
be  somewhat  in  the  impress  left  by  him  upon  the  world,  which  the 
friends  of  religion  could  wish  to  erase,  there  is  vastl}'  more  in  it  to 
•which  they  can  point  as  powerfully  attesting  its  benign  efficiency. 
In  one  important  aspect  the  whole  group  furnish  the  severest  test 
of  its  power  which  even  an  enemy  can  in  fairness  demand.  They 
represent  a  class  least  likely  to  be  deceived.  Accordingly,  they  re- 
fused to  accept  the  Cliristian  scheme  till  they  had  suliectcd  its 
claims  to  a-i'igid  investigation.  They  were  assailed,  each  from  a 
different  quarter,  and  vrith  great,  though  unequal  violence,  by  the 
demon  of  doubt;  and  it  was  not  without  a  painfully-purchased  con- 
viction of  its  truth,  that  their  faith  at  last  reposed  on  the  Christian 


562  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

foundation.  So  important  does  the  author  deem  this  phase  in  the 
individual  history — this  encounter  with  doubt — as,  in  the  severest 
manner,  testhig  the  trutli  and  power  of  Christianity,  that  he  devotes 
a  brief  chapter  to  its  con-sideration. 

Our  age  is  prolific  of  men  of  the  George  Fellowcs  type,  who  seem 
aillicted  with  a  perverse  proneness  to  doubt;  men,  in  whose  esteem 
truth  is  not  a  jewel  of  sufficient  value  to  warrant  a  diligent  search, 
or,  if  perchance  it  be  found,  to  guarantee  its  retention.  If  contempt 
did  not  oppose,  such  would  be  fit  objects  for  pity.  As  showing  them 
in  a  true  light,  we  quote  the  follovang: 

*•  Wc  liave  been  forcibly  rcniindcd,  in  reflecting-  on  certain  of  tliese,  of  a 
certain  Arabian  talc.  "\Vc  find  tbcre  recorded  the  fate  of  avespel, -wlio^e  pilot 
unfortunately  steered  lier  into  the  too  close  vicinity  of  a  mairnetic  mountain. 
The  nails  were  ail  attracted,  the  planks  fell  asunder,  and  total  -wreck  ensued. 
It  is  no  uncoinmnn  thing  at  present  to  see  a  man  sailing  in  the  vessel  of  Lis  be- 
lief, and  appeariiiT  to  do  well  enough.  But  he  nears  some  new  system  oi  phil- 
OsOjjhic  or  tlieologu-al  thnuuht,  or  comes  -vvithin  the  intluence  of  sonie  man  of 
overwhelming  [Kjwers.  Tliis  is  the  magnetic  mountain.  It  at  once  drav.s  out 
the  connecting  and  riveting  points  of  liis  faiih,  and  his  whole  ship,  liirnself 
sprawling  among  the  severed  timboi-s,  lies  scattered  wide  on  the  tossing  sea. 
But  he  manages  to  crather  together  the  floating  Avreck,  he  repairs  his  belief, 
and  again  sets  sail.  Lol  another  magnetic  mountain  ;  the  nails  are  again  fly- 
ing ;  again  he  IIl-s  discomfited  among  waves  and  mere  confused  planks.  His 
courngt!  does  iif.l  nuite  i\{\\.  however;  yet  again  ho  gets  piece  to  piece,  anch 
tmder  a  Jiew  ])ha<e,  once  more  sots  forth:  and  so  it  proceeds,  mountain  after 
mountain,  and  jdiaso  after  [jhase,  the  whole  voyage  being  taken  up  either 
in  i-efitting,  or  in  proclaiming  th.at  now  at  last  a'balmy  and  salubrious  rcirion 
has  been  entered,  that  all  ^hip^  ought  to  sail  on  this'tack,  and  that  the~last 
magnetic  mouTuaiu  a!ie  li^ad  of  llio  next  just  becoming  visible  in  the  horizon) 
is  poshivcly  the  last  in  the  world." 

Eut  there  is  an  honest  doubt,  and  minds  of  the  noblest  tvpe  are 
oftcnest  its  prey.  Those  vrho  are  most  keenly  and  conscientiously 
solicitous  to  an-ivc  at  just  opinions  on  all  subjects,  especially  those 
of  vital  moment,  are  most  likely  to  move  with  caution,  to  subject 
to  a  rigid  .^ci-uiiiiy  whatovir  asks  to  be  believed.  Matters  of  relig- 
ious faith  claim  no  exemption  from  this  procedure;  for,  though  the 
Christian  scheme  is  miraculously  avouched,  it  does  not  by  miracle 
coerce  belief  The  road  to  conviction  here  is  that  which  leads  to 
conviction  in  other  matters.  It  happens,  therefore,  very  naturally 
in  a  world  like  ours,  ripe  with  conflicting  theories  and  opinions,  tha"^t 
the  effort  to  disthiguish  the  true  from  the  filse  is,  to  the  sincere  and 
cautious  inquirer,  frequently  attended  with  the  experience  of  a  pain- 
fid  incertitude.  It  is  no  marvel  if,  amid  the  gloom  which  sometimes 
overhangs  his  path,  and  the  contradictory  voices  which  assail  his  ear, 
a  wail,  as  of  d(\spair,  sliould  be  wrung  from  his  soul.  But,  if  he  be 
sincere  and  valiant,  there  is  ordained  for  him  "  the  breaking  forth 


1856.]  Bayne's  Cliristian  Life.  663 

of  a  great  gloi-y  of  deliverance  and  of  dawn."  If  a  victor  hero,  lie 
■vs-ill  be  "  strong  forever." 

Of  this  type  ai-e  the  men  closen  by  our  author  to  illustrate  the 
transforming  energy  of  the  Christian  faith.  They  doubted,  but  not 
^villiugl3^  They  would  have  esteemed  no  price  too  dear  to  pay  for 
the  quiet  of  settled  conviction ;  but  they  were  shut  up  by  a  sublime 
intellectual  necessity  from  accepting  quiet  till  doubt  was  vanquished. 
This  at  length  was  done.  The  clouds  broke  and  rolled  away,  baring 
a  sky  from  out  whose  azure  depths  shone  one  light  not  again  to  be 
dimmed. 

We  forbear  any  minute  criticism  of  the  biographic  sketches  which 
make  up  a  considerable  portion  of  the  book.  A  few  general  remarks 
must  suffice.  ]Mr.  Bayne  ignores  the  Boswellian  theory  of  biography. 
He  thinks  it  possible  to  bring  within  the  limits  of  a  review  article 
all  that  need  be  said.  It  must  be  conceded  that  his  success  favours 
the  correctness  of  this  view.  With  admirable  skill  he  seizes  upon 
the  distinctive  points  in  the  character  of  each  man  of  whom  he 
treats  ;  and,  as  it  is  in  their  light  that  a  correct  estimate  of  the  man 
can  alone  be  formed,  and  his  life  understood,  he  labors  to  bring  these 
into  bold  yet  truthful  promhience.  This,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  is 
the  grand  secret  of  biograpliic  fidelity.  In  the  degree  that  accuracy 
in  detecting  and  estimallng  the  main-springs  of  action  is  attained, 
will  be  the  truthfulness  of  the  attempted  life-picture.  The  ground 
plan,  so  to  speak,  being  clearly  and  accurately  defined,  it  is  easy  to 
give  the  materials  of  the  structure  their  natural  and  symmetric  ar- 
rangement. That  !Mr.  Bayne  is  eminently  successful  in  the  analysis 
of  character,  as  also  in  seizing  what  may  be  called  its  determining 
forces,  will  be  granted,  we  think,  by  all  who  carefully  examine  his 
performance.  But  in  a  method  like  his,  which,  eschewing  minute 
detail,  aims  to  present  in  one  view  the  grand  totality  of  the  subject, 
another  requisite  is  indispensable  to  complete  success.  The  delinea- 
tion must  be  picturesque.  The  narrative  must  reproduce  the  sub- 
ject. To  effect  this  demands  a  style  epigrammatic  and  richl}'  de- 
scriptive. If  it  cannot  be  claimed  that,  as  a  graphic  limner,  our 
author  stands  in  the  foremost  rank,  he  must  be  allowed  to  occupy 
no  mean  position.  If  his  characters  do  not  move  before  us,  as  on 
the  matcidess  page  of  England's  great  historian,  as  living  men,  they 
yet  have  a  life-likeness  easy  to  discern.  To  have  succeeded  in 
sketching,  in  so  brief  a  compass,  singularly  truthful  portraits  of  six 
men.  who  were  "  standard-bearers"  in  their  day,  is,  Ave  think,  no 
small  praise.     That  praise  is  his. 

Deviating  souiowhat  from  the  order  of  the  book,  avc  have  aimed 
to  give  a  connected  view  of  the  author's  discussion,  both  by  '■  state- 


564  Buyne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

ment  and  illustration,"  of  Christianity  as  the  basis  of  individual 
character.  ^Ve  proceed  to  remark  briefly  on  that  portion  of  the  work 
which  considers  its  application  to  society.  After  establishing  the 
proposition  that  "relii:don  is  the  only  stable  basis  on  which  a  com- 
monwealth can  be  reared,''  the  author  draws  out  and  applies  the 
Pantheistic  and  the  Christian  theory  of  social  life.  Pantheism  being 
the  assertion  of  man's  divinity,  and  the  man,  consequently,  in  whom 
the  Divine  is  most  clearly  manifested,  being  the  worthiest  to  rule,  it 
follows  that,  in  a  rrovernment  constructed  on  this  basis,  his  will  would 
be  supreme:  all  the  rest  would  yield  unquestioning  obedience.  The 
social  theory  of  this  school,  therefore,  is  despotism.  Mr.  Carlyle 
does  not  shun,  nay,  ho  even  glories  in  this  consequence  of  his  teach- 
ing. '•Liberty,"  says  he,  "requires  new  definitions."  "If  thou  do 
know  better  than  I  what  is  good  and  right,  I  conjure  you,  in  the 
name  of  Goii,  force  me  to  do  it;  were  it  by  never  such  brass  col- 
lavs,  whips,  and  handcuffs;  leave  mc  not  to  walk  over  precipices." 

Christianity  recognizes  government  as  a  Divine  institution,  but 
gives  an  exclusive  sanction  to  no  particular  form.  It  enunciates 
principles,  however,  relative  to  government,  which,  to  the  extent  they 
are  adopted  an<l  respected,  tend  to  secure  the  best  form  and  the 
wisest  administration.  It  represents  God  as  the  supreme  ruler; 
men  as  essentially  equal;  their  perfection,  as  securing  his  glory,  the 
end  of  their  creation.  To  the  gradual  achievement  of  this  perfec- 
tion two  agencies  specially  minister :  the  one  a  personal  freedom  by 
inherent  right,  of  which  none  may  be  wholly  deprived ;  the  other,  a 
necessary  surrender,  in  some  degree,  of  this  freedom  to  society,  as 
the  price  of  protection  to  Avhat  is  not  surrendered.  The  end  of  gov- 
ernment, therefore,  en  the  Christian  theory,  is  to  secure,  with  the 
least  encroachment  of  individual  right,  the  largest  measure  of  social 
good.  To  the  attainment  of  this  end,  the  agencies  of  Christianity 
jointly  contribute:  and  when,  through  their  instrumentalit}-,  our 
race  shall  have  advanced  to  that  state  in  which  freedom  and  hnv  will 
be  synonymous,  this  end  will  be  consummated. 

Among  the  agencies  for  working  this  result,  Christian  philanthropy 
is  deemed  to  hold  a  prominent  rank.  "We  have  not  space  for  an 
outline  even  of  the  clear  exposition  and  able  vindication  which  this 
well-abused  agency  receives  from  our  author.  We  shall  content 
ourselves  with  merely  saying,  that  whoever  would  see  Dickcn.s,  ct  id 
omne  gcni's,  whose  vituperative  assaults  and  absurd  caricatures 
have  done  so  much  to  bring  philanthropy  into  disrepute,  handled 
with  decent  severity ;  and  whoever  would  see  the  more  formidable 
argumentative  ordnance  of  Mr.  Carlyle  silenced,  his  system  of  hero- 
worship  proved  absurd,  his  theory  of  law  exploded,  and  that  which 


1856.]  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  665 

Christiauity  recognises  triumphantly  substituted,  may,  it  is  safe  to 
promise,  look  into  this  part  of  the  work  with  no  fear  of  disappoint- 
ment. Here,  we  think,  the  author's  ability  is  most  conspicuous. 
Many  of  his  views  are  original.  The  reasoning  is  conclusive,  and 
over  it  is  thrown  a  spell  as  of  fascination.  Indeed,  we  would  have 
difficulty  in  naming  a  production  combining  more  of  chaste  eloquence 
and  logical  reticulation  than  this  part  of  the  work  before  us.  If  to 
refute  error  were  to  destroy  it,  there  vroukl  be  httle  need  in  future 
that  the  ground  here  occupied  should  be  again  gone  over. 

To  mark  the  progress  and  illustrate  the  working  of  this  benign 
agency,  by  sketching  the  lives  of  men  whose  chief  distinction  was 
their  sublime  devotion,  through  Christian  impulse,  to  the  bettering 
of  their  race,  was  a  happy  thought.  The  meliorating  inllucnces, 
which  it  was  before  maintained  in  theory  that  Christianity  would 
shed  upon  the  nations,  are  thus  shown  to  be  real.  Waiving,  for  the 
time,  the  question  of  theoretic  excellence,  we  here  behold  its  practical 
embodiuient.  The  streams  of  compassion  are  actually  flowing,  in 
the  dungeon,  at.  the  scaffold,  in  the  relations  of  life  and  the  marts  of 
business,  as  never  before,  the  brotherhood  of  men  is  felt.  As 
emulous  of  Ilim  "  who  vrent  about  doing  good,"  the  sharei-s  of  his 
spirit  are  abroad  in  the  world,  bringing  help  to  the  needy,  joy  to  the 
sorrowing,  and  hope  to  the  despairing.  Of  this  philanthropic  move- 
ment, Howard  is  taken  to  represent  the  rise,  Wilberforce  the  grow- 
ing manifestation,  and  Budgett,  with  much  else,  the  application  to 
the  relations  of  business.  Of  this  trio,  the  first  two  have  long 
enjoyed  a  world-wide  renown;  the  last,  more  from  the  fact  that  the 
theatre  of  his  action  was  not  so  conspicuous,  than  that  his  merits 
were  loss,  is  doomed,  perhaps,  to  a  more  limited  notoriety.  It  is 
not  our  purpose  to  speak  minutely  of  their  portraits  as  here  drawn. 
Their  full  record  is  only  in  heaven ;  but  Avhat  is  here  put  down 
must,  through  all  succeeding  time,  embalm  their  names  in  the  holiest 
memories  of  the  race.  They  have  written,  in  deeds,  the  grandest 
comment  Avhich  that  saying  of  the  apostle,  "  Faith  which  worketh  bj 
love,"  has  ever  received. 

We  are  desirous  of  calUng  attention  to  a  single  point  in  the  life 
of  Budgett.  Our  author  speaks  in  terms  of  praise  of  Mr.  Arthur's 
work.  He  alleges,  however,  one  grave  objection.  The  extent  to 
which  the  '"born  merchant"  was  wont  to  push  his  tact  in  trade, 
frequently  became  the  cause  of  mortification  to  his  slothful  or  less 
gifted  com])etitors.  This  habit  of  using  his  talent  to  the  utmost, 
heedless  of  the  pain  he  might  thus  inflict  upon  his  rivals,  Mr.  Arthur 
regards  "  as  a  defect"  in  his  character.  Mr.  Bayne  contend.-^  that  this 
is  the  wrong  way  to  explain  the  phenomenon,  and  is,  in  fact,  an 


566  Baijne's  Christian  Life.  [October, 

imputation  injuriously  affecting  his  ^vhole  commercial  character.  We 
[lave  not  space  to  rehearse  his  manner  of  showing  that,  precisely  in 
the  f^^ct  that  Budgett  acted  thus,  is  to  be  read  one  of  the  chief 
lessons  T/hich  his  mercantile  career  enforces.  "We  refer  to  it  merely 
to  express  the  hope  that  his  biographer  will  reconsider  the  view  he 
was  led  to  take.  If  truth  will  allow,  the  "Successful  Merchant" 
ought,  for  the  sake  of  his  influence,  to  stand  before  the  world  without 
so  serious  "  a  defect."  We,  at  least,  have  been  convinced  that  truth 
demands  that  ho  be  permitted  thus  to  stand. 

We  have  but  little  to  say  of  that  part  of  the  work  which  treats  of 
the  Positive  Philosophy.  To  be  honest,  our  acquaintance  with  this 
system  does  not  warrant  any  very  positive  utterance  respecting  it. 
What  wo  do  know  favours  the  belief  that  our  author's  censure  of  it 
is  somewhat  too  sweeping.  He  finds  no  difficult}^  in  detecting,  and 
uses  no  qualification  in  asserting,  its  blood-kin  to  that  Atheism 
which  makes  the  world  "a  workshop  for  the  living,  and,  for  the 
dead,  a  grave."  C-jnccding  all  that  is  claimed  for  it  in  the  domain 
of  the  physical,  he  asserts  its  "  tendency  to  discrown  man,  and  take 
the  light  off  the  universe."  Allowing,  however,  that  this  judgment 
is  correct,  and  further  that,  by  reason  of  its  systematic  complete- 
ness, this  phase  of  materialism  is  really  the  most  formidable  an- 
tagonism of  the  kind  which  Christianity  has  ever  had  to  encounter, 
there  is  still  no  just  cause  of  fear.  Belief  in  the  spiritual  is,  with 
the  million,  an  intuition,  and  can  in  no  way  be  destroyed.  If  once 
it  shall  come  to  be  understood  that  Positivism  ignores  the  spiritual 
altogether,  men  generally  will  ignore  it.  ^Vhoever  shall  declare,  be 
he  even  Auguste  Comte,  that  "  there  is  no  God,"  may  be  sure  of 
winning  the  distinction  which  of  old  the  Psalmist  accorded  to  the 
asscrtors  of  such  folly;  nor  will  it  ever  be  in  the  power  of  any 
system  founded  on  this  declaration,  whatever  its  merit  in  other 
respects,  to  inflict  enduring  harm  on  that  system  which,  recognizing 
the  spiiifual,  affunls  the  only  rational  account  of  man's  relation  to  it. 
Nay,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  every  such  system,  how  great 
soever  its  seeming  potency  of  evil,  will  be  found,  in  the  summing 
of  results,  to  have  brought  its  contribution  of  good  to  the  one  which 
it  threatened  so  seriously  to  injure. 

AVe  suppose  it  likely  that  the  intelligent  Christian  will  find  little 
in  the  work  to  strengthen  his  conviction  of  the  preciousness  of  evan- 
gelical religion.  A  richer  experience  of  its  saving  power  can  alone 
do  that.  And  if  it  cannot  be  claimed  that  the  author  has  added 
much  to  the  prnof,  already  perhaps  complete,  which  is  to  satisfy 
others  that  Christianity  is  the  only  hopeful  reliance  of  the  human 
race,  he  must  at  least  be  allowed  the  praise  of  having  swept  aside 


1856.]  Bayne's  Christian  Life.  567 

the  aspersions  •u-hicli,  from  high  places,  have  been  cast  upon  it;  as 
also  of  having  sho-\vn,  in  a  clear  light,  how  unfounded  are  the  preten- 
sions of  that  Pantheistic  spiritualism  \<\\\c\\,  Avith  loud  trumpeting, 
has  set  up  its  claim  to  be  the  sole  reliance.  His  -^^'ork,  moreover,  is 
e.KtrenivIy  opportune.  At  a  time  -when  men  of  confessed  ability  are 
pronouncing  Christianity  a  failure,  its  agencies  a  "  phospliorescence," 
and  the  Church  a  dead  carcass;  when,  too,  the  unwonted  license  of 
thought,  which  now  obtains,  is  apt  to  secure  a  hearing  for  any  wildest 
vagary  having  the  merest  modicum  of  plausibility,  it  is  well  that  the 
ground  on  which  assertions  must  stand  or  fall,  be  calmly  surveyed. 
This  he  has  done,  with  what  result  we  have  more  than  once  declared. 
But  the  mouth  of  slander  will  not  be  stopped,  nor  will  a  general 
assent  that  revealed  religion  is  the  only  hope  of  men,  be  secured. 
This  result  is  to  be  wrought  by  a  power  mightier  than  man's.  But 
it  will  one  day  obtain.  The  indications  of  its  coming  are  neither 
few  nor  insiguincant.  Christianity  is  silently  demonstrating  its 
power  to  renovate  the  world.  Casting  a  glance  over  the  unwritten 
history  of  the  present,  we  cannot  fail  to  discern,  amid  much  to  excite 
our  sorrow,  the  one  cheering  fact,  everywhere  conspicuous,  that  «- 
our  race  is  moving,  not,  indeed,  with  uniform  pace,  nor  without  some 
detours,  yet  with  hopeful  progress,  toward  a  higher  and  improved 
condition.  Equally  obvious  is  the  fact,  that  it  is  Christianity  which 
impels  and  guides  this  onward  movement.  Her  torch  flames  in  the 
van  of  our  marching  kindred  with  a  milder,  yet  clearer  radiance, 
than  of  old  led  on  the  Hebrew  exodus,  and  to  it  the  eyes  of  men 
turn  with  hope.  The  conviction  is  growing,  both  in  intensity  and 
diffusion,  that  the  aspirations  of  humanity  can  be  met  only  by  follow- 
ing where  it  leads.  Silently,  as  leaven  in  the  meal,  the  belief  is 
diffusing  itself  among  men,  that  the  voice  which  speaks  from  heaven 
must  point  their  way  and  control  their  exertions,  if  their  destiny  is 
to  be  fulfilled.  The  waxing  might  of  the  antichristian  power  may 
impede,  but  cannot  imperil,  this  consummation.  ^Vhen  it  shall  have 
come  to  a  head,  and,  embodied  in  "  the  man  of  sin,"  offers  battle  to 
the  Prince  of  truth,  the  long  conflict,  dating  from  the  past  eternity, 
will  conclude  with  its  everlasting  overthrow. 

We  are  sensible  how  little  these  remarks  have  been  a  la  mode 
critique.  But  if  we  have  dealt  more  in  praise  than  is  the  wont  of 
critics,  we  shield  ourselves  under  the  view  that  to  commend  where 
justice  permits  is,  at  least  in  theory,  as  much  a  function  of  criticism, 
as  to  condemn  where  justice  requires.  IJating  the  very  occasional 
obtrusion  of  Calvinian  peculiarities,  we  regard  the  book  a  masterly 
exhibition  of  the  Avorking  of  Christianity,  as  also  a  masterly  refuta- 
tion of  prevalent  error;   and  to  say  this  with  the  least  possible 


568  AbboU's  Napoleon.  [October, 

qualification,  we  have  (.leemcJ  a  better  service  to  the  cause  of  truth, 
than  to  offer  strictures  on  some  minor  points,  from  which  our  assent 
is  withheld. 

We  close  with  an  allusion  to  the  author.  At  present  he  resides 
in  London,  but  Scotland,  whose  sons,  among  the  dead  and  living, 
have  performed  so  envi;ibIo  a  share  of  the  world's  substantial  work, 
is  his  native  country,  lie  v/as  born  in  Aberdeenshire,  and  graduated 
at  Marischall  Cullt'go,  in  the  citj  of  Aberdeen.  "  lie  subsequently 
studied  divinity  at  Edinburgh,  M'here  also  he  're-studied'  philosophy 
under  some  of  the  most  eminent  professors  of  that  celebrated 
school.  Jt  is  understood  that  ho  was  particularly  partial  to  the 
system  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  of  which,  indeed,  there  are  indica- 
tions in  the  'Christian  Life.'"  His  original  purpose  was  to  enter 
the  ministry  of  the  Free  Church,  of  which  he  is  a  member ;  but  this 
purpose  he  is  understood  to  have  relinquished  for  that  of  authorship. 
Except  some  review  articles  of  great  merit,  the  "  Christian  Life"  is 
the  first  fruit  of  that  determination.  May  he  be  encouraged  to  gird 
himself  for  further,  and  even  better,  service  to  the  Church  and  to 
the  world. 


Art.  IV.- ABBOTTS  :^APOLEOX. 

The  History  nf  Xapolcon  Bonaparte.     By  Joiix  S.  C.  Aklott.     With  maps  and  il- 
lustrations.    In  two  vohiuios.     Xt'w-York:  IlAr;i>£R  cV  Beothees.     ISjj. 

Mr.  Abeoti's  "history"  originally  appeared  in  Harper's  Magazine, 
and,  consequently,  hail  a  very  wide  circulation  before  it  took  the 
form  of  a  distinct  publication.  We  also  learn  that  it  has  had  a 
large  sale  in  its  more  dignified  form  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  it  has 
been  more  generally  w:v\.  in  this  country,  than  any  other  account 
of  the  great  warrior.  It  is,  therefore,  quite  likely  that  a  large  por- 
tion of  our  young  men  and  young  women  will  receive  their  main 
impressions  of  the  world's  mightiest  chieftain  from  Mr.  Abbott's 
pages. 

Under  these  circumstaitces  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  inquire,  whether 
the  views  of  uS'apoleon's  action  and  character  presented  in  this 
"  history,"  are  such  as  should  be  generally  accepted  by  our  young 
people,  and  are  consistent  with  the  facts  which  the  author  has  given 
to  the  world.  The  endowments  of  Napoleon  were  so  splendid,  and 
his  action  on  society  so  brilliant  and  powerful,  that  our  hero-worship- 
pers, in  the  enthusiasm  of  their  idolatry,  have  undertaken  to  make 


1856.]  Abbott's  Napoleon.  5G9 

him  a  perfect  embodiment  of  all  human  virtues.  Still  \^e  cannot 
avoid  a  feeling  of  surprise,  that  any  one  living  under  a  popular  gov- 
ernment should  claim  him  as  a  citampioii  of  popular  rights ;  and, 
especially,  that  a  Protestant  minister  of  the  Gospel  should  regard 
him  as  a  friend  of  religion  and  a  hater  of  oppr(*s3ion  and  of  Vt'ar. 

Is^ipolcon,  it  is  true,  restored  the  Catholic  religion  in  France, 
proclaimed  himself  the  friend  and  defender  of  the  pope,  and,  at  his 
death,  called  for  an  ecclesiastic  to  soothe  his  last  moments  and  pass 
him  'safely  across  the  Styx ;  but  -while  it  is  true  that  there  are  evi- 
dences, in  his  conversations  at  St.  Helena,  to  show  that  he  -was  a 
believer  in  the  Divine  mission  of  Christ,  and  accepted  the  Christian 
theory,  we  do  not  find,  either  in  his  long  career  of  ambition,  or 
during  the  half  dozen  years  of  his  imprisonment,  or  in  his  approaches 
to  the  grave,  any  evidences  of  a  Christian  character  or  a  Christian 
spirit.  If,  therefore,  as  a  monarch,  he  did  anything  for  religion,  his 
conduct  will  find  an  easy  solution  in  the  fact  that  he  deemed  religion 
to  be  a  power,  and  adroitly  determined  to  make  it  a  prop  to  his 
throne.  To  sanctify  his  public  acts  in  the  eyes  of  the  superstitious- 
multitude,  he  called  to  his  aid  the  benedictions  of  the  soi-disant 
vicegerent  of  God,  and  thus  used  the  Church  to  further  his  plans  of 
conquest  and  his  graspings  after  power. 

But  Mr.  Abbott  not  only  sots  at  defiance  the  common  sense  of 
mankind  by  making  Kapoleon  a  hero  of  Christianity;  he  also  sets 
him  forth  as  a  lover  of  peace,  a  grand  example  of  philanthropy,  and 
a  hater  of  war.  In  almost  the  first  words  of  his  preface  he  declares 
his  strong  admiration  for  his  hero,  because,  among  other  things,  "  he 
endured  all  toil  and  hardship  that  he  might  elevate  and  bless  vian- 
hind ;'''  and  because  "he  abhorred  war,  and  did  everything  in  his 
power  to  avert  that  dire  calamity^ 

It  is  not  difficult  for  us  to  understand  how  the  sacrifices  and 
labours  of  such  men  as  Paul,  or  Luther,  or  Wesley;  or  such  men  as 
Hampden,  or  llogcr  AVilliams,  or  AYashington,  have-  contributed  io 
"  bless  and  elevate  mankind ;"  but  we  must  confess  to  some  dulness 
of  apprehension  in  discovering  how  those  horrible  butcheries  so 
graphically  described  in  this  "  history,"  and  which  kept  Europe  in 
deep  mourning  for  so  many  sad  years,  can  have  anything  about 
them  very  elevating  or  very  much  calculated  to  bless.  We  should 
say,  too,  that  if  Napoleon  did  all  in  his  power  to  avert  the  calami- 
ties of  ivar,  he  was  amazingly  unsuccessful  in  his  efforts.  And, 
surely,  if  he  abhorred  u-ar,  as  ]\Ir.  Abbott  says,  we  have  a  right  to 
infer  that  the  Astors  and  Rothschilds  must  have  hated  money,  and 
that  the  devil  is,  after  all.  the  great  enemy  of  sin. 

But  Mr.  Abbott  is  evidently  incapable  of  any  correct  criticism; 

FouKTir  Series,  A'ol.  VIII.— 3G 


570  Abbott's  Napoleon.  [October, 

and  after  starting  -with  a  statement  so  utterly  absurd,  we  need  not 
be  surprised  at  -what  follows.  We  find  all  throu;^h  this  "history" 
expressions  like  these:  "Napoleon,  tlic  people's  devoted  friend^' — 
"This  great  man  stood  firm  as  tlie  advocate  of  popular  rights'' — 
"The  sympathies  of  this  great  man  -vvere  ivith  the  people" — 
"Napoleon  still  appeared,  as  ever,  the  dauntless  champion  of  popu- 
lar rights'- — "The  government  of  Napoleon  was  the  gov  cm. merit 
of  popular  rights  " — "  Ho  considered  that  he  had  a  right  to  demand 
the  cooperation  of  those  popular  governments  which  his  voice  had 
called  into  being,"  ttc. 

Now  we  ask,  what  reliance  can  be  placed  on  a  work  written  with 
so  utter  a  disregard  of  the  truth  of  history  ?  We  should  like  to  have 
Mr.  Abbott,  or  any  one  else,  explain  in  what  sense  Napoleon  was  a 
champion  of  pojnilar  rights.  He  may  have  been  a  despot  by  the 
consent  of  the  people;  ho  may  have  done  many  things  to  unfetter 
the  public  mind ;  the  aristocracy  of  inerit  which  he  founded  may 
have  been  a  great  improvement  on  the  old  aristocracy  oi  fajuihj ; 
but  how  a  man  who  ruled  from  the  centre  with  an  iron  sway,  and 
openly  declared  his  purpose  to  be  master,  can  be  set  up  as  a  cham- 
pion oi  popular  rights,  is  beyond  our  comprehension. 

The  popular  governments  which  Napoleon's  voice  called  into 
being,  were  such  governments  as  Naples  and  Spain,  which  were  held 
only  by  the  ])0wer  of  the  sword,  and  could  not  long  be  maintained, 
even  by  that.  A  xQ^iWy  popular  government  we  understand  to  be  a 
government  in  which  the  people  bear  rule.  Did  they  so  rule  under 
Napoleon?  Let  us  sec  what  answer  ho  himself  gives  to  this  ques- 
-tion,  in  his  letters  to  Jo.seph,  when  he  was  King  of  Naples.  "  The 
■people  of  Italy,"  says  the  emperor,  "and,  in  fact,  of  every  other 
■country,  if  they  do  not  feel  that  they  are  ?nastercd,  are  disposed  to 
rebel  and  murmur."  Again,  "  The  National  Guard  is  a  part  of  the 
people  of  France,  and  as  long  as  I  live  I  will  be  master  everywhere 
in  France."  Siill  again.  "1  suppose,  however,  that  they  see  there 
is  some  difference  between  the  times  of  Lafayette,  when  the  people 
ruled,  and  the  present  time,  when  I  rule."  And  yet  again,  "  I  am 
well  pleased  with  my  affairs  here,  (at  Paris.)  It  gave  me  great 
■trouble  to  bring  them  into  order,  and  force  a  dozen  rogues  to  refund. 
I  bad  made  up  my  mind  to  have  them  shot  xvithout  trial." 

It  is  clear  from  these  extracts,  which  might  be  extended  to  any 
amount,  that  Napoleon,  in  his  plan  of  government,  had  no  idea  of 
consulting  the  peo])le  or  considering  their  rights.  He  ruled  France 
■with  other  objects ;  and  whatever  those  objects  were,  it  is  certain 
that  his  word  was  the  law  of  the  empire;  that  he  set  up  and  pulled 
down  at  pleasure ;  that  he  made  war  and  peace  without  consulting 


1856.1  Abbott's  Napoho7i.  571 

his  people;  that  he  deposed  kings  and  crowned  kings  as  he  saw  fit; 
that  he  distributed  rewards  and  punishments  with  an  imperial  hand; 
and  that  he  even  shot  down  whom  he  would,  -without  ceremony  or 
trial.  Such  a  man  might  bo  a  great,  a  generous,  a  magnanimous 
despot,  but  he  could  not  be  a  champion  of  popular  rights. 

Mr.  Abbott  is  at  great  pains  to  prove  that  Napoleon  was  the 
victim  of  circumstances ;  that  he  was  not  responsible  for  tlie  wars 
in  which  he  was  engaged ;  that  they  were  forced  on  him  by  the  com- 
binations formed  to  put  him  down ;  and  that  efforts  "were  unceasing 
on  his  part  to  obtain  and  preserve  the  peace  of  the  world.  There  is 
a  show  of  truth  in  this  position,  and  yet  it  strikes  us  as  essentially 
erroneous.  All  the  circumstances  of  Napoleon's  life  show  his  love 
of  glory  and  his  greed  of  dominion.  From  the  first  the  language  of 
his  conduct  was  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  Europe  was  not  long  in  un- 
derstanding it.  France,  under  his  rule  and  by  the  aid  of  his  bril- 
liant campaigns,  had  suddenly  swelled  from  its  ancient  limits  to  a 
mighty  empire.  Eugene,  the  son  of  Josephine,  was  Viceroy  of  Italy ; 
Murat,  his  brother-in-law,  was  King  of  Naples ;  Joseph,  his  elder 
brother,  was  King  of  Spain;  Louis,  another  brother,  was  King  of 
Holland ;  and  Jerome,  still  another  brother,  was  King  of  Westphalia. 
The  sixteen  provinces  along  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  embracing 
some  fourteen  millions  of  people,  had  fallen  under  the  protection  of 
Napoleon;  Genoa,  too,  had  been  annexed  to  France;  and  every  new 
war  seemed  to  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  the  empire  and  cripple  the 
other  European  powers. 

These  were  circumstances  too  significant  to  be  mistaken,  and  the 
question  with  the  remaining  nations  was,  as  to  ivhich  should  he 
absorbed  next.  Italy  had  been  conquered  and  was  held  by  the 
sword,  and  the  King  of  Spain  and  his  son,  having  each  appealed  to 
Napoleon  to  settle  their  several  claims  to  the  throne  of  that  dis- 
tracted country,  he  pushed  them  both  aside,  and  embraced  the  op- 
portunity to  put  a  prince  of  his  own  blood  on  the  throne.  These 
circumstances  created  a  feeling  of  uncertainty  and  alarm  in  the  royal 
households  throughout  Europe,  and  the  several  leading  powers  pro- 
fessed to  regard  Napoleon  as  aiming  for  universal  empire,  and 
so  banded  together,  as  by  instinct,  under  the  great  law  of  self-pres- 
ervation. 

Mr.  Abbott  would  have  us  believe  that  these  combinations  against 
Napoleon  were  in  behalf  of  legitimacy  and  the  Bourbons,  and  makes 
a  point  of  the  gross  injustice  of  thus  interfering  with  the  internal 
polity  of  nations.  But  the  outcry  in  regard  to  the  usurpations  of 
Napoleon  was  oxAyiha  feigned  issue.  The  real  cause  of  complaint 
against  France  was  much  deeper.     The  restless  spirit  which  con- 


572  AhhoWs  Napoleon.  [October, 

trolled  the  power  of  the  empire  had  shaken  Europe  to  its  centre,  and 
appeared  to  be  graspin;:;  for  a  still  larger  dominion.  Under  the 
walls  of  Madrid  he  had  said  to  the  people  of  Spain  :  ''If  you  do  not 
like  Joseph  for  your  king,  1  do  not  vrish  to  force  him  on  you.  / 
have  anotJier  tJirone  to  ifife  him."  Europe  ^vas  anxious  to  know 
•u'hat  throne  he  alhidcd  to :  and,  as  Austria  was  the  poATcr  most  con- 
tiguous, it  vras  extensively  rumoured  that  it  was  none  other  than  the 
throne  of  the  Hapsburgs. 

Circumstances  are  stronger  than  words,  and  such  circumstances 
could  not  fail  to  make  their  natural  impression.  It  is  then  clear  to 
us,  however  it  may  appear  to  Mr.  Abbott,  that  jN'apoleon  was  mostly 
responsible  for  all  these  desolating  wars,  and  that  they  were  pro- 
voked by  his  policy.  He  arose  by  the  sword,  and  he  was  a  lining 
elucidation  of  tho  principle  announced  by  our  Lord,  that  "  They  who 
take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword."  The  vanity  which 
caused  him  to  delight  in  dazzling  exhibitions  of  power,  made  war 
always  welcome  as  the  expected  theatre  of  new  triumphs,  and  his 
love  of  dominion  made  it  welcome  as  the  means  of  adding  to  his 
empire.  But  they  produced  their  natural  fruits  in  the  combinations 
for  his  ovcrtln-ow,  and  the  persistent  determination  to  rid  Eui'ope 
of  his  dangerous  presence. 

The  career  of  jNapolcon,  it  is  no  part  of  our  argument  to  deny, 
must  oJways  strike  the  beholder  with  amazement.  There  is  nothing 
to  compare  witli  it  on  the  pages  of  history.  He  loomed  up  before 
the  world  in  his  first  Italian  campaign  like  a  blazing  meteor,  at  an 
age  when  other  men  are  scarcely  ready  to  take  the  first  lessons  in 
their  profession.  He  was  but  twenty-six  years  old,  and  of  a  slight, 
effeminate  form,  when  he  appeared  at  IS'ice  before  the  veteran  gen- 
erals of  the  French  army  as  their  commander.  But  his  presence, 
even  then,  youthful  and  inexperienced  as  he  was,  made  everj-  pulse 
beat  quicker  and  every  heart  leap  with  emotion.  "  Soldiers,"  said 
ho,  "you  are  hungrj'  and  naked:  1  come  to  lead  you  into  the  most 
fertile  plains  that  the  sun  ever  beheld ;"  and,  scarcely  were  the 
words  pronounced,  when  the  order  was  given  to  advance.  In  fifteen 
days  he  planted  his  standards  before  Turin,  and  the  Sardinians 
were  suing  for  peace.  In  that  brief  space  he  had  plunged  dovra 
from  among  the  snowy  mountains  into  the  midst  of  the  enemy  on 
the  sunny  plains,  and,  with  a  force  scarcely  more  than  one  third  of 
the  foe,  had  fought  six  battles,  taken  fifty-five  pieces  of  cannon,  slain 
or  wounded  ten  thousand  men,  and  captured  fifteen  thousand  pris- 
oners. Such  was  the  dawning  of  that  career  whose  day  was  about 
to  break  on  Europe  and  the  world. 

This  was  in  his  youth,  when  his  blood  flowed  quickly,  and  hope 


1856.]  Abbot fs  Napoleon.  573 

and  glory  were  before  him.  But,  in  his  case,  riper  years  seemed 
only  to  quicken  his  energy  and  increase  his  capacity  for  the  vigor- 
ous prosecution  of  his  mighty  plans  of  empire.  At  no  time  of  his 
life  was  the  major  consideration  neglected  for  the  minor.  No  en- 
gagements, no  plans  of  improvement,  no  pleasures,  no  domestic 
attachments,  were  permitted  to  stand  between  him  and  the  proper 
moment  of  action.  Thirteen  years  after  he  thus  hurled  down  his 
forces,  like  a  thunderbolt,  against  the  xVustrians  and  Sardinians  on 
the  plains  of  Italy,  when  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  power,  and 
surrounded  by  courtiers  and  flatterers  in  the  most  luxurious  of 
modem  cities,  a  dispatch  was  received  announcing  that  the  Austrians 
had  crossed  the  liiver  Inn,  and  were  about  to  precipitate  their 
legions  on  the  friendly  kingdom  of  Bavaria.  The  courier  arrived  at 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  found  the  emperor  in  his  palace,  surrounded 
by  a  gay  circle  of  friends.  In  less  than  two  hours  he  was  seated  in 
his  carriage  by  tlie  side  of  Josephine,  and  thundering  over  the  pave- 
ments toward  the  scene  of  expected  conflict.  In  six  days  ho  was 
six  hundred  miles  distant  from  his  capital,  and  at  the  head  of  his 
army ;  and  in  a  day  or  two  after  he  fought  a  decisive  battle,  in  which 
the  Austrians  were  overwhelmed  vrith  defeat  and  their  armies  broken 
to  pieces. 

This  attention  to  the  main  issue,  at  the  proper  moment,  and  with 
all  possible  vigor,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of 
this  remarkable  man.  On  his  return  from  Vienna,  after  the  bril- 
liant campaign  of  1805,  in  which  he  literally  annihilated  his  enemy 
and  dictated  a  peace  from  his  very  capital,  and  when  he  had  cer- 
tainly earned  some  title  to  a  season  of  relaxation  and  the  enjoyment 
of  his  laurels,  instead  of  seeking  the  congratulations  of  friends,  and 
the  soothing  voice  of  flattery,  he  plunged  at  once  into  a  labyrinth  of 
business,  regardless  alike  of  enjo}Tnent  and  repose.  The  embar- 
rassed, condition  of  the  Bank  of  France  had  given  him  serious  in- 
convenience during  his  absence ;  and  when  he  reached  his  palace  at 
midnight,  accompanied  by  his  faithful  Josephine,  he  sent  at  once  for 
the  minister  of  finance,  and  spent  the  whole  night  in  looking  into 
its  condition.  On  the  following  day  he  called  his  council  together, 
•and  sat  with  them  for  nine  consecutive  hours,  till  some  plan  was  de- 
vised to  meet  the  exigences  of  the  state. 

His  wonderful  activity  was  not  confined  to  his  campai^cms.  It 
was  ecpially  manifest  in  whatever  occupied  his  attention.  AVhcn  tlie 
empire  was  at  peace,  ho  delighted  to  manifest  his  power  in  brilliant 
conceptions  of  public  works;  in  the  construction  of  monuments, 
roads,  bridges,  and  public  buildings;  in  reforming  the  internal  polity 
of  the  nation ;  and  in  reconstructing  and  perfecting  its  laws.     But 


574  Abbott's  Napoleon.  [October, 

we  need  not  dwell  on  the  various  modes  by  which  he  manifested  his 
power,  since  others  have  done  such  ample  justice  to  this  part  of  his 
character. 

V>e  do  not  think  it  worth  while  to  discuss  the  question,  whether 
Kapoleon  was  or  was  not  a  usurper.  That  he  was  the  pride  of 
France,  that  she  bowed  her  neck  willingly  to  his  yoke,  that  he  ruled 
"by  her  consent,  seems,  at  this  day,  hardly  to  admit  of  a  question. 
She  was  proud  of  the  lustre  which  he  shed  on  the  empire ;  she  re- 
ceived him  with  acclamations  when  he  returned  penniless  from  Elba ; 
she  clung  to  him  manfully  in  his  misfortunes ;  she  sent  to  St.  Helena 
to  recover  and  sepulchre  his  unhonoured  bones,  and  she  delights 
Still  to  cherish  the  memory  of  his  brilliant  reign. 

But  all  tliis  does  not,  by  any  means,  sanctify  the  great  error  of 
his  despotic  rule.  The  master  of  the  plantation  might  as  well  boast 
that  his  slaves  served  him  from  choice  and  not  from  fear.  If  it  is 
really  so,  what  does  it  prove  ?  Only  this  :  that  the  manhood  of  the 
slave  has  been  corraptcd  by  his  servitude  ;  that  the  master  has  im- 
bued him  with  such  servile  tastes  that  he  clings  to  his  bondage  in- 
stead of  aspiring  after  the  noble  independence  of  freedom.  The 
mistake  in  the  case  of  xsapoleon  Avas  still  more  momentous.  His 
power  corrupted  a  whole  people  and  retarded  their  growth  toward 
independence  and  virtue. 

Despotism  is  the  gx-eatest  of  all  crimes,  and  its  fruit  is  "  evil  and 
onl}''  evil,  and  that  continually.'"  Behind  it  lies  oppression,  and 
murder,  and  every  conceivable  form  of  woe.  This  Avas  the  great, 
master  error  of  ^Japokon's  life.  His  grasp  for  dominion  neutralized 
all  his  fine  qualities,  and  made  him  the  scourge  of  mankind.  Ad- 
mitting that,  in  all  the  relations  of  life  not  interfering  directly  with 
his  master  motive,  he  was,  as  Mr.  Abbott  maintains,  all  that  was 
generous,  kind-hearted,  and  noble,  still  how  little  will  that  do  to 
square  his  accounts  Avith  the  world!  For  what  great  purpose  were 
all  these  dc^'jlaiiug  wais'i  ^Vhat  Avas  the  compensating  good  for 
this  ocean  of  human  blood,  and  the  harroAving  lamentations  of  that 
vast  arm}' of  Avidows  and  fatherless  children?  "What  great  end  jus- 
tified the  slaughter  of  so  many  millions  of  people,  and  the  despotic 
mle  by  which  alone  it  could  be  accomplished? 

A  stro7tg  govcr/ii/tc/it  ahvays  implies  a  vjeal-  people.  A  wise 
father  on] j  governs  his  children  during  the  weakness  of  infancy,  arid 
trains  them  gradually  to  self-reliance  as  the  parental  government  is 
to  be  AvithdraAvn.  So  nations  that  are  governed  are  ahvays  feeble, 
and  Avhat  strength  they  have  is  not  really  in  the  nation,  but  in  the 
ruling  mind.  It  is  easy  to  sec,  therefore,  that  political  poAver,  by 
vrhicU  the  world  is  so  dazzled,  is,  after  all,  but  a  very  Aveuk  engine 


1S5G.]  Abbott's  Napoleon.  51S 

compared  with  individual  intelligence,  enterprise,  and  virtue.  He, 
therefore,  that  would  "'  bless  and  elevate  mankind,"  must  do  it  by 
developing  in  them  the  principle  of  self-reliance  and  self-govern- 
ment, and  not  bj  domineering  over  them.  There  was  a  time  when 
governments  seemed  to  think  a  nation  would  go  to  ruin  unless  its 
social,  economical,  and  commercial  operations  were  shaped  by  the 
ruling  power.  They  undertook  to  control  everything  from  the  cen- 
tre. They  prescribed  the  prices  of  every  commodity  that  was  bought 
or  sold,  established  the  value  of  labor,  and  treated  their  subjects  as 
jnere  machines.  But  the  example  of  our  own  country  shows  that,  to 
a  certain  extent,  a  nation  which  is  governed  least  is  governed  best; 
that  the  ruling  power  is  a  clog  to  individual  development,  in  propor- 
tion to  its  governing  force ;  and  that  the  true  source  of  a  nation's 
prosperity  is  to  be  found  in  the  virtue,  intelligence,  and  independ- 
ence of  its  people. 

The  policy  of  2sapoleon  was  not  a  policy  to  develop  and  build  up 
a  strong  people,  llis  object  was  not  to  do  good  to  mankind,  to  de- 
velop the  race  to  which  he  belonged,  or  to  make  men  wiser  or  bet- 
ter. He  sought  only  to  dazzle  and  to  fix  attention  on  himself.  In 
war  he  bhazed  through  a  campaign  like  a  sparkling  meteor :  in  peace 
he  startled  and  amazed  by  his  great  conceptions  of  public  works. 
In  all  his  conduct  he  gloried  in  being  able  to  do  what  others  could 
not ;  and,  feehng  that  he  was  sizpcrior  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  he 
deemed  that  he  had  a  right  to  rule  over  them.  This  self-exaltation 
led  him  to  take  great  risks  and  run  fearful  hazards,  because  the 
glory  of  the  achievement  and  the  renown  which  it  brought  to  his 
willing  ears,  were  great  in  proportion  to  the  danger  to  be  encoun- 
tered and  the  inadequacy  of  the  means  employed.  It  also  urged 
him  on  to  the  great  error  of  absolute  dominion.  Such  dominion 
concentrated  the  glory  of  the  empire  wholly  in  himself;  and  he  de- 
lighted to  be  its  sole  and  palp.able  bond  of  union,  and  to  hold  it  to- 
gether by  his  own  power  rather  than  by  the  ordinary  means  of  pri-j- 
udices,  local  attachments,  principles,  and  institutions. 

The  court  of  Napoleon  was  patterned  on  this  same  idea  of 
dominion  and  self- exaltation.  His  practical  mind  at  once  discarded 
a  useless  aristocracy ;  but  still  he  must  have  a  court  as  much  more 
splendid  than  those  of  the  surrounding  nations,  as  the  empire  was 
more  powerful.  He  must  out-dazzle  the  kings  of  Europe,  as  well  as 
out-fight  them.  This  would  be  a  means  of  illustrating  his  glory  and 
the  glory  of  France.  Hence  the  old  aristocracy  oi  jmni I y  was  dis- 
carded, and  a  new  aristocracy  of  merit  instituted  in  its  place. 
Services  were  his  patent  of  nobility.  The  veterans  of  his  army, 
the  men  of  activity  and  energy  who  had  sustained  his  throne,  the 


576  Abbott's  Napoleon.  [October, 

savans  of  science  and  the  arts,  ^ycre  the  stars  in  the  brilliant  court 
circle  that  thronged  his  palaces.  The  principle  on  -which  he  acted 
is  set  forth  in  his  advice  to  Joseph -when  he  first  ascended  the  throne 
of  I^aplos.  "  In  my  opinion,"  -writes  this  man  of  the  -world,  "vour 
throne  will  have  no  solidity  unless  you  surround  it  -with  a  hundred 
generals,  colonels,  and  others  attached  to  your  house,  possessing 
great  fiefs  of  the  kingdom  of  IS'aples  and  Sicily.  Eernadotte  and 
Massena  should,  1  think,  be  fixed  in  Naples,  -Piith  the  title  of  Princes 
and  with  large  revenues.  Enable  them  to  found  great  families.  In 
a  few  years  they  will  marry  into  the  principal  families  of  the 
country,  and  you  will  then  be  strong  enough  to  do  without  an  army." 

This  was  the  wisdom  of  a  tactician,  exercised  on  the  policy  of 
building  up  a  throne  in  a  conquered  country.  In  that  policy  there 
was  no  thought  of  the  welfare  or  development  of  the  people.  They 
were  utterly  forgotten  in  the  more  important  business  of  exalting  a 
house.  Nor  is  this  a  solitary  instance.  The  same  spirit  pervades 
all  these  letters  of  instruction.  Joseph  was  an  amiable  and  just 
man,  and  sought  to  rule  mainly  through  the  affections  of  his  people. 
Napoleon,  who  held  a  tighter  rein,  wrote  to  him  that  "  his  conduct 
lacked  decision."  "It  is  not,"  said  he,  "by  being  civil  to  people 
that  you  get  a  hold  on  them."  "  If  you  do  not  begin  by  making 
yourself  feared,  you  will  suffer  for  it."  ''Disarm  the  population; 
send  away  all  strangers ;  make  your  army  rich."  "  I  do  not  hear 
that  you  have  shot  any  of  the  lazaroni,  although  I  know  that  they  have 
used  their  daggers."  "  The  mere  force  of  opinion  will  not  maintain 
you  in  Naples.  Take  care  that  there  are  mortars  in  the  forts  and 
troops  in  reserve  to  punish  insurrection."  "  Do  as  I  did  in  Cairo : 
prepare  three  or  four  batteries,  whose  shells  shall  reach  every  part 
of  Naples." 

This  was  the  wisdom  of  Napoleon.  It  was  a  wisdom  that  was 
quite  consistent  with  the  founding  of  despotic  thrones  and  the  arbi- 
trary sv,ay  of  a  power  fid  eliicf ;  but  quite  inconsistent  with  the  idea 
of  Mr.  Abbott,  that  Napoleon  was  a  champion  of  popular  rights, 
and  the  great  benefactor  of  the  masses  of  the  people.  He  was,  in 
fact,  a  great  and  glorious  despot,  ruling  with  an  iron  sway,  and 
making  everything  bend  to  his  mighty  will.  Under  the  peculiar  influ- 
ences of  his  education  and  the  remarkable  events  that  accompanied 
his  rapid  rise  to  power,  he  grew  up  into  a  spirit  of  despotism  as 
stern  and  absolute  as  ever  seized  the  human  heart. 

"  With  the  talents  of  an  angel,"  says  Young,  "  a  man  may  be  a 
fool.  If  he  judges  amiss  in  the  supreme  point,  judging  right  in  all 
else  only  aggravates  his  folly."  Napoleon  missed  "the  supreme 
point."     He  failed  just  where  it  was  most  important  that  he  should 


1S56.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  577 

succeed.  With  endoT^-ments  vastly  superior  to  those  of  our  o"wn 
Washington,  how  immeasurably  he  sinks  below  him !  The  great 
American  drew  his  sword  only  in  defence  of  the  rights  of  man,  and 
Avhen  the  object  was  gained  returned  it  to  his  scabbard.  The  fruit 
of  his  Avisdom,  how  it  looms  up  amid  the  desolations  of  Europe's  great 
battle-fields !  It  is  written  ia  every  valley  and  on  every  hill-top 
throughout  this  vast  dom,ain.  It  lives  in  the  heart  of  every  freeman, 
and  is  to  be  a  fountain  of  joy  to  millions  yet  unborn.  It  is  a  ray 
from  the  invisible,  and  its  steady  lustre  forever  illumes  our  firma- 
ment. Isapoleon,  on  the  contrary,  swept  the  heavens  with  his 
brilliant  train,  and  then  left  the  world  in  darkness.  In  summing 
up  his  character,  we  are  tempted  to  say  of  him,  in  imitation  of  the 
remarkable  words  of  Pope,  applied  to  the  great  Bacon,  that  he  was 
the  wisest,  jrreatest,  most  brilliant,  and  most  useless  of  mankind. 


Art.  v.— the  NEW  TESTAMENT  VIEW  OF  THE  RESTOKATJON 
OF  THE  JEWS.  . 

If  what  we  said  in  a  former  paper*  upon  the  history  of  the  "ten 
tribes"  proves  that  they  were  not  lost,  but  contrariwise  that  they 
did  return,  and  became  incorporated  with  Judah,  so  that  the  history  of 
the  Jews  subsequent  to  the  time  of  their  reunion  becomes  one,  it  will 
relieve  those  Scriptures  which  arc  supposed  to  refer  to  the  restora- 
tion of  the  Jews,  and"t\'hich  have  .been  embarrassed  by  the  alleged 
loss  of  the  ten  tribes.  For,  if  they  are  not  lost,  then  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  defer  the  fulfilment  of  those  prophecies  which  arc  believed 
to  relate  to  their  recovery,  to  some  remarkable,  but  future,  civil  and 
political  revolution  in  the  history  of  the  Jews.  Indeed,  admitting 
the  known  existence  of  Israel,  it  will  not  be  hazai'dous  to  believe 
that  all  those  prophecies  which  refer  to  the  secular  condition 
of  the  Jews,  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  manner  and  at  the  time 
which  has  been  specified.  And  we  hope  our  readers  will  not  startle 
at  this  suggestion ;  at  least,  that  they  will  not  prejudge  us,  but  wait 
until  they  comprehend  the  grounds  upon  which  wo  have  felt  our- 
selves justified  in  making  it.  We  hope,  in  the  course  of  the  follow- 
ing brief  discussion,  to  place  before  our  readers  some  means  by 
which  they  may  be  enabled  to  distinguish  between  those  prophecies 
which  relate  to  the  secular  aflairs  of  the  Jews,  and  those  which  are  to 
«>  July,  1S5.5. 


678  The  Nexu  Testament  View  of  ihe  [October, 

have  a  complete,  and  possibly  an  exclusive  fulfilment  in  spiritual 
and  religious  benefactions.  This  ability  to  discriminate  between 
the  nature  of  the  objects  of  prophecy,  is  very  important  to  a  satis- 
factory and  just  exposition  of  this  part  of  Sacred  Scripture:  and, 
failing  in  this,  many  have  been  led  into  the  extremes  of  fancy  and 
error. 

If,  then,  -we  would  ^aiu  correct  and  satisfactory  views  of  the  pur- 
poses of  God,  as  indicated  in  pruphctic  promises,  we  must  first  of  all 
obtain  a  clear  understanding  of  the  condition  of  those  who  are  to  be 
benefited  by  his  interposition,  as  the  nature  of  the  benefit  is  corre- 
spondent to  the  circumstances  of  those  who  are  to  be  relieved.  An 
inquiry,  tlierefore,  into  the  spiritual  relations  of  the  Jews,  is  of  funda- 
mental importance  as  a  means  of  settling  the  sense  of  those  scriptures 
which  relate,  or  which  arc  alleged  to  relate,  to  the  subject  of  the 
restoration  of  the  Jews. 

Wliat,  then,  is  flic  doctrine  of  the  Bible  in  relation  to  this  point  ? 

The  clearest  and  fullest  account  of  their  present  religious  state  is 
that  contained  in  the  eloventh  chapter  of  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Romans.  AVc  need  only  allude  to  the  following  verses,  to  bring  up 
to  the  view  of  our  readers  all  that  is  material  to  the  present  state  of 
the  question.  In  verse  11,  it  is  called  a  "fall;"  in  verse  12,  a 
"diminishing ;''  in  verse  15,  a  "casting  aivaij ;'"  and  in  verse  17, 
they  are  said  to  be  "  broken  off;"  and  in  verse  25,  it  is  declared  that 
"blindness  in  part  hath  happened  imto  Israel."  It  will  not  be 
doubted,  we  think,  that  these  terms  and  phrases,  severally,  are  used 
to  denote  the  same  thing;  namely,  the  lapsed  condition,  the  degra- 
dation, or  the  excision  of  the  Jews  from  the  covenant  of  redemp- 
tion, and  their  consequent  loss  of  the  blessings  accruing  from  the 
Messiah. 

But,  then,  this  "fall,"  this  "breaking  off"  of  the  Jews  must  be 
understood  of  them  in  a  collective  sense,  for  individually  they  have 
had,  and  siill  have,  the  oilers  of  life  and  salvation,  made  to  them. 
This  is  asserted,  impliedly  at  least,  by  the  apostle,  he  afiii-ming  his 
own  experience  in  the  faith  of  the  Gospel  in  proof  of  it.  See  verses 
1-5,  inclusive.  Kotwithstanding  that  many  of  the  Jews  did  receive 
the  Saviour,  the  leaders,  the  great  body  of  the  nation,  rejected  Christ, 
and  in  return  were  rejected  by  him.  This  is  clearly  stated  in  verses 
7-10.  "Israel,"  the  apostle  says,  "hath  not  obtained  that  which 
he  seeketh  for;  but  the  election  [believers]  hath  obtained  it,  and  the 
rest  were  blinded  (according  as  it  is  written,  God  gave  them  tlie 
spirit  of  slumber,  eyes  that  they  should  not  see,  and  ears  that  they 
should  not  hear)  unto  this  day."  By  this  quotation  it  is  shown 
that  their  spiritual  state  is  not  the  effect  of  their  conduct  merely, 


185G.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  679 

but  it  is~  attributable,  mainly,  to  a  judicial  act  of  God,  inflicting  a 
moral,  and,  in  some  sense,  an  intellectual  torpor  upon  them  for  their 
rejection  of  his  Son.  And,  indeed,  does  not  the  apostle  unequivo- 
cally assert  this,  ■when  he  says,  verse  20,  "  IJecause  of  their  unbelief 
they  were  broken  off'.'" 

And,  as  if  aware  of  the  boldness  of  his  declaration,  and  that  he 
mi^ht  forestall  all  cavilling  upon  the  matter  of  it.  he  opens  his 
argument  -with  a  parallel  example;  one,  indeed,  which  the  Jews  had 
made  a  ground  of  improper  boasting,  to  show  that  such  a  procedure 
against  them  was  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  principles  of  the  Divine 
government.  See  chap,  i,  21-28.  In  consequence  of  the  idolatry 
of  the  Gentiles,  "  God  also  gave  them  up  to  uncleanness ;"  for  their 
perversion  of  the  truth,  he  "  gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind  to  do 
those  things  which  are  not  convenient,"  and  thus  did  "  they  receive 
that  recompense  in  themselves  of  their  error  which  was  meet." 
The  meaning  of  this  passage,  in  a  general  sense,  we  understand  to 
be  this,  namely.  That  God  for  cause,  sovereignly  withheld  from  the 
Gentile  world  those  restraining  influences  which  were  necessary  in 
order  to  preserve  them  from  the  evils  here  enumerated,  as  well  also 
as  from  the  inconveniences  and  sutTerings  which  would  naturally 
spring  from  the  practice  of  this  catalogue  of  vices. 

But  in  the  application  of  the  principle,  involved  in  the  example,  to 
the  case  of  the  Jews,  the  judicial  act  referred  to  by  the  apostle  is  to 
be  primarily  regarded  as  affecting  their  covenant  relations  to  God. 
It  is  true  that  they  suffered  in  their  social  and  political  relations, 
when  God  withdrew  his  gracious  p»rotoction  from  them.  But  those 
were  minor  evils  compared  with  the  loss  of  his  spiritual  presence; 
of  the  grace  which  enabled  them  to  see  "light  in  his  light."  This 
loss  of  the  medium  of  spiritual  vision  was  the  source  of  that  '■  blind- 
ness" which  '■  happened  to  Israel."  The  "  spirit  of  slumber"  en- 
sued upon  them  when  Jehovah  withdrew  the  inciting  influence  of 
his  mercy  an<l  tnith.  The  thick  veil  which  is  upon  their  liearts, 
when  they  read  Moses,  is  the  cloud  of  unbelief  and  passion  which 
shut  in  upon  their  souls,  when  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  veiled  him- 
self in  the  dark  mantle  of  justice.  The  moral  chill  which  now  be- 
numbs their  spiritual  nature  will  not  end  until  their  faith  penetrates 
the  cloud  which  enshrouds  their  soul,  and  directs  to  their  hearts  the 
vivifying  influences  of  Divine  love. 

It  must  not  be  inferred,  either  in  respect  to  Gentiles  or  Jev,-?.  that 
personal  obligation  to  God  is  cancelled  by  public  judicial  blindness. 
;Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  such  a  relation  as  has  now  been  de- 
fined, precludes  the  possibility  of  their  final  salvation.  It  is  no  more 
impossible  for  a  Jew  to  obtain  forgiveness  and  everlasting  mercy 


580  The  New  Testameiit  View  of  the  [October, 

without  the  faith  of  a  Christian  than  it  was  impossible  for  a  Gentile, 
before  the  introduction  of  the  Gospel  to  obtain  final  salvation  without 
the  faith  of  a  Jew.  The  principle  stated  by  the  apostle,  Acts  x,  35, 
is  a  universal  one,  and  difl'uscs  its  benign  power  over  the  whole  his- 
tory of  our  nice,  irrespective  of  the  outward  circumstances  of  the 
various  tribes  and  nations  of  men.  See  also  Rom.  ii.  If  the  doc- 
trine contained  in  the  declaration  that  "  in  every  nation  he  that 
feareth  him  and  worketh  riii^'hteousness  is  accepted  of  him,"  madt^  it 
pos.^ible  to  a  heathen  to  obtain  acceptance  with  him,  (never  without 
influence  of  the  atonement,)  then  it  is  possible  for  a  son  of  Jacob 
still  to  secure  eternal  salvation  through  the  free  mercy  of  God. 

We  may  be  a.^kcd :  What,  then,  has  the  Jew  lost  in  respect  to  spir- 
itual privileges,  if  he  can  yet  obtain  salvation  by  the  law  of  cere- 
monies ■?  And  is  he  not  exempted  from  the  law  of  faith  by  that 
very  curse  which  has  shut  up  his  heart  to  its  light  and  love?  What 
has  lie  lost  then?  Much,  very  much!  If  he  obtains  pardon,  it  is 
not  through  the  ceremonies  of  the  law  as  its  medium.  The  grace 
which  once  llowed  through  the  Mosaical  ritual  no  longer  pours  the 
streams  of  life  around  Jewish  altars.  The  cloud  of  the  Divine 
presence  which  once  rested  upon  the  nation,  infolding  that  people  in 
its  smiles  of  light  and  joy,  has  departed,  and  their  sky  is  dark  and 
lowering.  Their  condition  now  is  illustrated  by  the  symbol  of  the  Di- 
vine presence  in  tiic  exodus  from  Egypt.  The  cloud  which  followed 
Israel,  gave  light  and  direction  to  their  camp,  but  was  to  their  enemies 
a  veil  which  forbade  their  approach  to  the  chosen  ones  of  God.  So 
the  Jewish  service  v/hich  once  shed  a  cheering  and  hallowinfr  light 
upon  the  pathway  of  the  nation,  by  the  withdrawal  of  the  Divine 
presence,  becomes  a  cloud  of  darkness,  and  through  their  unbelief,  in- 
wraps  them  in  penal  gloom,  sealing  up  their  eyes  to  the  glory  of  the 
cross.  They  lose,  then,  by  th?  subtraction  of  all  the  moral  efficacy  which 
once  resided  in  their  law  of  ordinances;  they  lose,  by  their  own  re- 
fusal, all  the  spiritual  comforts  and  hopes  foreshadowed  by  their 
types  as  specified  by  their  own  prophets;  they  lose  the  cove- 
nanted protection  of  God,  and  remain  a  defenceless  prey  to  their 
enemies ;  they  lose  the  mediatorial  guidance  of  Christ,  and  are 
left  to  wander  in  life  without  sun,  moon,  or  star  to  guide  and  cheer 
them;  in  short,  they  lose  all  the  direct  spiritual  benefits  both  of 
Judaism  and  Christianity  as  systems  of  religion.  The  Jews,  then, 
stand,  upon  moral  grounds,  no  way  in  advance  of  heathen  nations  in 
general.  Where  they  have  maintained  the  social  elevation  to  which 
Judaism  had  advanced  them,  -when  Messiah  came :  or  where  they 
have  exceeded  that  standard,  they  owe  it  to  the  power  of  Chris- 
tianity manifested  in   its   fruits  in  a  general   social  state  around 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jeios.  681 

them,  rather  than  to  its  direct  influence  upon  the  heart  in  their  indi- 
vidual experience.  In  the  same  ^Yay  the  social  condition  of  a  pagan 
might  be  improved  by  the  doctrines  of  religion,  when,  at  the  same 
time,  he  adhered  to  paganism.  "We  will  not  say  that  the  Jews  are 
reduced  to  an  intellectual  level  with  pagans,  for  they  have  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  God,  even  though  they  have  lost  the  cfhcacy  of  that 
system  of  grace  through  which  Jehovah  was  pleased  to  reveal  his 
favour.  But  we  do  say,  that  they  are  not  within  either  the  light  or 
the  protection  of  the  covenant  of  redemption,  which  was  made  with 
Abraham,  and  e.xecuted  by  Jesus  Christ.  From  that  covenant  they 
were  "  broken  off."  Thus  have  we  presented  a  brief  view  of  the  spir- 
itual condition  and  relations  of  the  Jews  since  the  day  of  their  "  fall," 
the  nature  of  which  is  sufficiently  illustrated  by  the  character  of  the 
facts  in  which  it  is  exhibited. 

The  peculiar  and  striking  history  of  the  Jews  before  their  over- 
throw by  the  Cajsars,  as  well  as  their  strange  preservation  as  a  dis- 
tinct people  in  the  unparalleled  circumstances  in  which  they  have 
since  existed,  have  contributed  to  make  them  objects  of  great  in- 
terest both  to  the  intellect  and  the  heart  of  every  true  Christian. 
But  high  over  all  the  clouds  of  their  crimes  and  misfortunes  beams 
the  day-star  of  promise,  that  one  day  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
shall  arise  upon  them  with  healing  in  his  beams.  By  the  light  of 
prophetic  promise,  the  future  is  seen  to  be  pregnant  with  some  great 
mercy,  which  is  to  unfold  itself,  in  practical  forms,  over  God's  an- 
cient people.  "What  that  denouement  is  to  be,  is  a  question  which 
has  taxed  the  ingenuit}'  of  men  not  less,  perhaps,  than  it  has  been 
employed  to  discover  the  geographical  situation  of  the  "ten  tribes." 
Kor  have  the  theories  to  which  resort  has  been  had  in  onler  to  in- 
terpret the  promise  of  restoration  been  fewer  or  less  fanciful  than 
have  been  those  which  arc  employed  to  find  Israel,  whom,  it  has 
been  thought  by  some,  God  has  hidden  in  primitive  secrecy  and 
isolation.  By  some  we  are  tauglit  to  expect  their  restoration  in  a 
reassumption  of  their  former  earthly  inheritance  in  Palestine,  and 
the  revival  of  their  temple  service  as  it  was  celebrated  before  their 
"  fall."  By  others  that  the  promises  are  to  be  realized  in  a  consum- 
mated union  of  the  Jews  and  Gentiles  in  the  resurrection  state. 
Indeed,  we  know  not  how  many  notions  have  been  put  forth  and  ad- 
vocated, as  the  means  of  answering  the  question  which  relates  to  the 
natm-e  of  the  predicted  restoration.  That  what  we  shall  say  upon 
this  point  will  bear  upon  those  theories,  is  easil}^  foreseen;  but  we 
shall  not  attempt  to  trace  them  out,  and  confront  them ;  as  theories, 
they  will  receive  no  other  than  an  incidental  notice. 

The  general  admission  that  the  Scriptures  teach  the  doctrine  of  a 


5S2  The  New  Testament  View  of  the  [October, 

restoration  of  the  Jcvrs  supersedes  the  necessity  of  proof  upon  that 
point ;  but  it  is  of  fundamental  importance  to  any  efEcient  effort  on 
their  behalf,  and  especially  is  it  necessary  if  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Chi'ist  is  under  any  specific  scriptural  obligations  to  make  exertions 
for  the  illumination  of  the  Jews,  that  we  know  what  the  Bible 
teaches  respecting  the  promised  restoration ;  otherwise  our  labour  may 
be  useless,  if  for  no  other  reason,  from,  the  fact  that  it  is  misdirected. 
The  true  issue,  then,  is  made  up  upon  the  single  consideration  of  the 
nature  of  that  restoration  of  the  Jews  which  is  promised  in  the  Bible. 
And  here  our  distinctions  should  be  clear,  and  our  definitions  care- 
fully stated,  in  order  that  the  relevancy  or  irrelevancy  of  the  proof 
which  may  be  offered  upon  the  point  can  be  easily  and  fully  appre- 
ciated. In  stating  the  proposition  which  we  shall  hereafter  attempt 
to  prove,  we  begin  with  that  which  we  exclude  from  the  question 
itself 

First,  then,  we  do  not  mean  by  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  that 
they  will  be  recovered  from  their  dispersion  abroad  among  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  and  collected  together  in  the  land  of  Palestine. 
It  is  possible  they  may  assemble  there  at  some  future  time,  and  re- 
sume the  social  and  political  sway  of  that  country  ;  but  if  this  should 
occur  it  would  be  entirely  incidental  to  the  purpose  of  the  promise 
of  restoration. 

Secondly:  Nor  do  we  mean  by  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  that 
there  will  be  a  revival  of  the  Mosaic  ritual,  or  of  the  sacrificial  sys- 
tem, either  in  Judea  or  elsewhere  upon  the  face  of  the  whole  earth. 
The  end  of  the  types  and  ceremonies  of  that  dispensation  has  been 
attained,  and  they,  consequently,  have  been  abolished  by  Him  who 
ordained  them.  There  can,  therefore,  be  no  important  reason  for 
their  renewed  celebration. 

Thirdly :  Our  simple  and  entire  proposition  is  this  :  Christianity 
ivill  become  the  relis^ion  of  the  Jews  in  the  se7isc  that  if  noio  is  the 
religion  of  any  portion  of  the  Gentile  tcorld ;  as  it  is  of  this 
nation  and  Great  Britain.  Not  that  every  individual  Israelite  will 
become  holy,  but  as  a  people  they  will  receive  the  Messiah,  and, 
with  us,  worship  him  as  Lord  and  Saviour.  This,  we  think,  is  the 
prevailing  meaning  of  all  those  Scriptures  which  relate  to  this  subject ; 
and  it  will  be  our  aim  to  make  this  sense  apparent  to  our  readers. 
But  before  proceeding  to  consider  the  pi-oof  itself,  either  circum- 
stantial or  textual,  we  must  settle  some  rule  of  exposition  by  which 
we  arc  to  decide  what  is,  and  what  is  not,  proof  in  the  case.  And 
this  will  be  especially  important  to  that  chiss  of  our  readers  who 
incline  to  the  opinion  that  there  may  be  a  double  sense  in  prophecy. 
In  our  paper  upon  the  history  of  the  "  ten  tribes,"  we  think  we  made 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  583 

out  one  sense  clearly  in  relation  to  those  kScriptures  which  were 
quoted  upon  that  point,  but  several  of  those  texts  are  thought  also 
to  have  reference  to  the  point  under  discussion  in  this  article.  !No^v, 
if  there  is  another  meaning  in  the  Scriptures  in  question,  it  is  desir- 
able, if  it  be  possible,  that  we  know  v^'hat  that  sense  is.  And 
where  shall  we  be  as  likely  to  find  it  as  in  the  Isew  Testament 
Scriptures?  At  least,  it  is  due  to  our  faith  and  understanding  that 
we  carefully  examine  them  in  relation  to  this  interesting  topic ;  for, 
if  they  speak  at  all  upon  this  point,  what  they  utter  will  be  a  solid 
foundation  for  our  judgment  in  the  matter. 
.  The  following  rule  of  exposition  we  hold  to  be  indisputably  ti*ue, 
and  it  is  also  an  absolutely  safe  guide  in  the  interpretation  of  all 
questions  to  which  it  legitimately  relates,  namely:  That  wlicn  any 
ancient  prophecy,  or  subject  of  prophecy,  is  commented  upon 
in  the  New  Testainent,  the  comment  is  to  he  received  as  the  sense 
or  meaning  of  the  prophecy  itself,  regardless  of  any  seeming  dis- 
crepance between  the  verbality  of  the  announcement,  and  that  of  the 
recorded  fulfilment. 

There  is  such  obvious  truth  and  justness  in  this  rule,  that  we 
shall  not  stop  to  argue  its  truth,  nor  for  the  present  to  make  any 
qualifications  of  it.  But,  for  the  sake  of  illustrating  its  application, 
we  will  cite  an  example  from  that  class  of  prophecies  which  relate 
to  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  and  the  establishment  of  his  kingdom 
in  the  earth.  IS'ow  every  student  of  the  Bible  knows  that  the 
diction  of  the  prophets  is  burdened  with  hyperbole,  that  it  is  embel- 
lished in  the  highest  degree  with  the  poetic  imagery  of  the  East, 
A  false  conception  of  the  meaning  of  their  seers  led  the  Jews  to 
expect,  through  the  coming  of  the  ^lessiah,  that  they  an  ere  not  only 
to  be  released  from  their  subjection  to  Ptome,  but,  also,  that  through 
his  wisdom  and  influence  their  national  character  was  to  be  elevated 
and  adorned.  The  sad  fruits  of  that  eiTor,  in  part,  constituted  the 
grounJ  of  their  present  dis]iersion.  But  to  the  example.  The 
''feast  of  fat  things,  the  tuine  on  the  lees,  of  ivine  tcell  refined'* 
instead  of  having  been  realized  in  sensual  enjoyments,  is  fulfilled, 
nevertheless,  and  oflered  to  us,  in  the  appropriate  language  of  the 
Gospel,  as  the  "  kingdom^of  God,''  which  "25  not  meat  ct/k/ drink, 
hut  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.'"  Here  the 
diiTerence  between  the  language  in  the  prediction,  and  that  in  which  the 
fulfilment  is  recorded,  is  not,  in  our  opinion,  more  striking  tlinn  wWX 
be  fuuud  to  exist  in  relation  to  the  language  in  which  the  subject  of 
Jewish  restoration  is  announced,  and  the  verbiage  of  the  2^ew 
Testament  comment  upon  it,  if,  indeed,  this  subject  is  ever  embraced 
in  the  scope  of  Old  Testament  prophecy.     Of  course,  we  speak 


584  The  New  TestameixL  Vieic  of  the  [October, 

no^Y  of  a  secular  restoration.  Vre  Jo  not  afErm,  positively,  that  it  is 
not  embraced  in  ancient  projiliecy,  and  yet  we  \vill  venture  the  pre- 
diction that  in  half  a  century  from  this  date,  few,  if  any,  will  believe 
that  any  trace  of  this  doctrine,  in  any  form,  can  be  found  in 
any  testimony  of  higher  antiquity  than  Jesus  Christ  and  liis  holy 
apostles. 

The  intimate  relation  subsisting!  between  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments, which  is  assumed  in  our  rule,  is  the  only  true  basis  upon 
which  we  can  found  a  theory  of  exposition  that  will  be  safe  in  the 
final  conclusion  to  which  we  shall  be  conducted  by  it.  This,  wc 
think,  none  will  dispute;  nor  will  any  doubt  that  the  last  pages  of 
revelation  shed  a  light  so  clear  and  steady  upon  the  purposes  of 
God  toward  our  race,  that  any  early  doubtful  intimations  of  his 
designs  may  be  unhesitatingly  resolved  by  that  which  is  so  tran- 
scendently  manifest  in  the  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ,  who,  having 
been  in  the  "  bosom  of  the  Father,  hath  revealed  him." 

But  does  the  New  Testament  really  treat  of  the  restoration  of  the 
Jews?  For,  if  it  does  not,  then  the  exposition  which  we  are  about 
to  give  upon  this  subject  cannot  receive  any  aid  from  the  rule  which 
we  have  laid  down,  even  had  we  demonstrated  its  tnith  beyond  any 
exception  in  its  apydicatiou.  For  the  rule  relates  to  those  subjects 
only,  which  Christ  or  his  apostles  have  expounded  in  their  recorded 
teachings.  Consequently,  if  they,  or  either  of  them,  have  not  set- 
tled the  meaning  of  ancient  prophecies  which  are  said  to  relate  to 
this  subject,  why  then  the  subject  itself  does  not  fall  within  the  in- 
fluence of  the  rule,  and  hence  carmot  be  affected  by  it.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  they  have  spoken  upon  the  subject  of  restoration, 
Avhcthor  in  exposition  of  prophecy,  or  by  revelation,  and  if  what  they 
have  set  down  respecting  the  nature  of  the  restoration  of  the  Jews 
is  plain  in  diction  and  relevant  to  the  particular  point  under  discus- 
sion, then  our  canon,  that  the  New  Testament  doctrine  exhibits  the 
meaning  of  ^11  a!tttce>u-ut  Scriptures  relating  tu  jhis  subject,  has 
legitimate  authority  to  settle  this  long-mooted  but  deeply-interest- 
ing subject. 

It  will  be  seen,  by  the  character  of  the  rule  which  is  to  govern  us 
in  the  investigation  of  the  evidence  in  this  case,  that  our  argument 
upon  it  is  to  be  framed  chiefly  out  of  the  evidence  contained  in  the 
New  Testament.  Of  cour.se,  then,  it  will  only  weigh  in  favour  of  our 
position  in  the  minds  of  those  who  receive  the  New  Testament  as 
of  equal  authority  with  the  Old.  But  if  wc  shall  succeed  in  giving 
a  right  direction  to  the  faith  of  Christians,  and  thereby  aid  them  in 
a  legitimate  application  of  tlieir  own  instrumentalities  in  order  to 
bring  about  the  great  event  in  question,  our  purpose  will  be  answer- 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  585 

ed  and  our  labour  compensated  in  this  honest  effort.  It  is  to  in- 
fluence the  minds  of  Christians  that  we  write ;  for  T^•e  are  precluded 
a  hearing  with  the  descendants  of  Abraham,  by  their  denial  of  the 
authority  of  the  JSew  Testament,  and  with  infidels,  by  their  denial 
of  all  plenary  inspiration. 

Let  us  now  proceed  to  our  argument  upon  the  main  question;  and 
let  the  reader  bear  in  mind,  that  the  testimony  which  we  are  about 
to  bring  forward  upon  the  subject  of  the  Jews'  restoration,  is  designed 
to  show  the  nature  of  the  change  which  is  to  be  effected  in  their  re- 
lations, rather  than  the  fact  that  they  will  be  benefited  b}^  the  ful- 
filment of  the  scriptures  which  relate  to  their  future  condition.  It 
is,  indeed,  an  unnecessary  task  to  collect  proof  upon  the  single  point 
of  fact  that  they  will  be  restored,  so  generally  is  this  admitted  by 
Christians.  But  the  other  branch  of  the  subject,  namely,  the  nature 
of  their  restoration,  requires  both  proof  and  illustration.  And  in  order 
to  appreciate  the  ^scw  Testament  bearing  upon  this  point,  we  must 
first  discriminate  between  the  real  and  the  assumed  purposes  of  that 
covenant  from  Avhich  they  were  cut  off.  For  if  it  can  be  made  to  ap- 
pear that  its  objects  are  spiritual,  and  not  secular,  it  woidd  be  safe  to 
infer  that  the  restoration  is  to  be  to  this  form  of  the  Divine  favour, 
rather  than  to  any  civil  and  social  distinctions.  Consequently,  too,  a 
full  justification  will  hereby  be  given  for  construing  all  the  evidence 
upon  the  subject  in  the  New  Testament  in  accordance  with  this  as- 
sumption, unless  it  can  be  shown  that  an  undoubtful  necessity  exists 
for  another  and  different  course  of  exposition.  There  is  no  doubt 
in  our  own  mind  that  there  were  two  covenants  made  by  God  with.- 
"  the  father  of  the  faithful."  The  first  is  recorded  in  Gen.  x\'ii,  1-14,. 
and  is  expressed  in  the  following  terms : 

"And  when  Abram  was  ninety  years  old  and  nine,  the  Lord  appeared  to- 
Abram.  and  said  unto  him,  I  am  the  Almi'jhtv  God;  walk  before  me,  and  be- 
thou  perlb'.'t. 

"  And  1  will  make  my  covenant  between  me  and  thee,  and  will  multiply  thee 
exceedingly. 

"  And  Abram  fell  on  his  face  :  and  God  talked  with  him,  sayinc:, 

"  As  for  me,  behold,  my  covenant  is  with  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  a  father  of- 
many  nations. 

"  Neither  shall  thy  name  any  more  be  called  Abram,  but  thy  name  shall  be 
Abraham  ;  for  a  father  of  many  nations  have  I  made  thee. 

"  And  I  will  make  thee  exceeding  fruitful,  and  I  will  make  nations  of  thee; 
and  kine--;  slinll  come  out  of  thee. 

'•  And  I  -will  establish  my  covt-nant  between  mc  and  thoo,  and  thy  seed  after- 
thee,  in  their  generation^,  for  an  everlasting  covenant;  to  be  a  God  unto  thee, 
and  to  thy  sc-d  after  theo. 

"  And  I  will  give  unto  thee,  and  to  thy  seed  after  thee,  the  land  wherein 
thou  art  a  stranger,  all  the  land  of  Canaan,  for  an  everlasting  j)OSsession;  and 
I  will  be  thtir  God. 

Fourth  Series,  Vol.  VIII.— 37 


686  The  New  Testament  Vieio  of  the  [October, 

"  Anrl  God  said  unto  Abraham,  Thou  shalt  keep  my  covenant  therefore, 
thou,  and  thy  seed  after  thee,  in-  their  generations. 

"This  is  my  covenant,  which  ye  shall  keep,  between  me  and  you,  and  thy 
seed  after  thee  :  Every  man-child  among  you  shall  be  circumcised. 

"  And  ye  shall  circamclse  tlic  lle^h  of  your  lorcikin ;  and  it  shall  be  a  token 
of  the  covenant  betwixt  me  and  you. 

"  And  he  that  is  ci;_dit  days  old  shall  be  circumcised  among  you,  every  man- 
child  in  your  generations,  he  that  is  born  in  the  house,  or  bought  with  money 
of  any  stranger,  whi.-li  is  not  of  thy  seed. 

"  lie  that  is  born  in  tli}-  house,  and  he  that  is  bought  with  thy  money,  must 
needs  be  circumcised  ;  and  my  covenant  shall  be  in  your  desh  lor  an  everlast- 
ing covenant. 

"  And  the  uncircumcised  man-child  whose  flesh  of  his  foreskin  is  not  cir- 
cumcised, that  soul  shall  be  cut  off  from  his  people  ;  he  hath  broken  ray  cove- 
nant." 

The  second  and  latter  covenant,  which  we  choose  so  to  denomin- 
ate  because  subsequently  enacted,  is  recorded  in  Gen.  xxii,  bcgin- 
nin;^  at  the  15th  verse.  For  the  convenience  of  the  reader  we  will 
quote  it : 

"  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  called  imto  Abraham  out  of  heaven  the  second 
time, 

"  And  said,  By  myself  liave  I  sworn,  saith  the  Lord,  for  because  thou  hast 
done  this  thinii,  and  hast  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine  only  son  : 

"  That  in  blessing  I  will  bless  thee,  and  in  multi{)lying  I  will  multiply  thy 
seed  as  the  stars  of  the  heaven,  and  as  the  sand  which  is  upon  the  sea-siiore ; 
and  thy  seed  shall  jmssess  the  gate  of  his  cnen)ies: 

"  And  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  eailh  be  blessed ;  because  thou 
hast  obeyed  my  voice." 

Our  readers  will  sec  at  a  glance  that  the  objects  of  these  two  cove- 
nant engageuK'ut.-,  and  the  conditions  upon  which  the  benefits  are 
.stipulated,  arc  entirely  distinct  and  dissimilai  from  each  other.  In- 
'decd,  they  arc  so  different,  that  this  fact  in  itself  is  sufficient  to  show 
;a  plurality  of  covenants.  Let  us  look  at  them  for  a  moment.  In 
'the  first,  God  engages  to  give  Abraham  a  numerous  posterity,  and 
■  the  land  of  Canaan  for  a  possession.  In  the  second,  he  promises 
:to  make  Abraham  the  progenitor  of  the  Messiah,  here  entitled  a 
"  SEED  in  whom  all  the  eartli  should  he  blessed.'''' 

In  the  first  covenant,  the  condition  upon  which  was  suspended  the 
'  benefit  promised,  was  that  Abraham,  together  with  every  male  child 
in  the  successive  generations  of  his  posterit}^  should  be  circumcised. 
But  in  respect  to  the  second  covenant,  so  far  as  God  was  pleased  to 
connect  the  gift  of  the  Saviour  with  human  conduct  at  all,  the  spe- 
cial consideration  which  gave  Abraham  his  distinguishing  relation  to 
I^lessias,  was  of  a  nature  to  preclude  any  failure  in  the  accomplish- 
•  ment  of  the  covenant  engagenient  through  human  obliquity.     And 
:as  if  to  anticipate  every  possible  human  contingcnce,  the  Lord  ap- 
j  plied  the  test.lo  Abraham,  and  thereby  proved  him  to  bo  worthy  of 


1S5G.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  587 

tlie  distinction  which  he  TN'as  to  enjoy  as  "  the  father  of  the  faithful," 
before  he  had  visibly  chosen  the  medium  of  descent  for  that  "  seed 
in  whom  all  the  nations  of  the  earth"  should  "  be  blessed."  "  Because 
tliou  hast  done  this  thing,"  said  Jehovah,  "  and  hast  not  withheld 
thy  son,  thine  only  son,"  and  because  "  thou  hast  obeyed  my  voice, 
I  will  bless  thee,  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  tlie  earth  be 
blessed."  The  immutable  purpose  of  God  secured  the  lledecmer 
to  the  world,  and  the  faith  of  Abraham  secured  to  him  tlie  honour 
of  being  the  progenitor  of  that  "  seed"  which  was  to  bruise  the  ser- 
pent's head ;  and  thus  Abraham  becomes  "  the  father  of  us  all." 

But  in  the  first  covenant,  the  condition  upon  which  the  perpetuity 
of  the  possession  rested,  contained  in  itself  a  contingeuce  out  of 
which  might  arise  a  forfeiture  of  the  promised  inheritance. 

This  is  clearly  expressed  in  chapter  xvii,  1-1,  where  it  is  said, 
"and  the  uncircumcised  raan-cliild,  whose  flesh  of  his  furcskin  is  not 
circumcised,  that  soul  shall  be  cut  oS'  from  his  people ;  he  hath 
broken  my  covenant."  This,  it  is  conceded,  was  said  of  an  individ- 
ual, but  what  is  here  said  of  an  individual  would  be  equally  true  of 
the  nation,  if  the  conduct  of  the  nation  should  become  like  that  of 
the  individual,  for  which  he  would  be  cut  off. 

The  great  primary  object  of  the  second  covenant  was  redemption 
from  sin  through  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  made  cer- 
tain by  the  language  of  St.  Paul  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Galatians, 
chapter  iii,  16.  "Now,"  he  says,  "to  Abraham  and  his  seed  were 
the  promises  made.  He  saitli  not,  And  to  seeds,  as  of  many,  but  as 
of  one.  Ami  to  thy  seed,  which  is  Christ."  This  language  incontest- 
ably  establishes  the  distinction  which  we  have  made  between  the 
objects  of  these  covenants,  and  settles  the  question  relative  to  the 
design  of  the  second  covenant  which  was  made  with  Abraham. 

Ijut  how  are  we  to  understand  the  language  of  the  promise,  that 
"in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  tlio  earth  be  blessod':"  Here, 
certainly,  is  a  boon  for  the  Avorld.  Here  is  a  comprehensiveness  in 
the  promise  which  could  not  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  honour  and 
distinction  which  resulted  to  the  Jews  from  the  peculiar  govern- 
ment under  which  they  were  settled  in  the  land  of  Canaan :  nor  in 
the  elevation  and  felicity  flowing  from  the  possession  and  celebra- 
tion of  the  Mosaic  ritual.  For  Judaism  as  such  was  never  intended 
to  benefit  the  world.  Tt  was  only  a  preparative  medium  of  the 
world's  Saviour.  Indeed,  it  contained  no  ])rovision  for  its  propaga- 
tion among  mankind.  It  had  no  elemental  power  of  expansion. 
The  fact  that  its  rites  were  confined  to  the  temple  in  Jerusalem,  by 
Divine  command,  is  suflicient  to  show  that  its  benefits  were  limited 
to  the  Jews,  only  as  individual  Gentiles  might  choose  to  enter  into 


588  TJie  New  Testament  Yieic  of  the  [October, 

the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  agreeably  to  the  conditions  ■which  had 
been  prescribed  in  the  law. 

The  truth  is,  the  dignity  and  moral  value  of  the  ritual  system 
were  derived  from  the  grand  object  of  the  later  covenant,  by  having 
been  made  the  preparative  medium  of  that  "  seed"'  in  whom  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  were  to  be  blessed.  The  spirit  of  the  engagement 
into  which  God  had  entered  with  Abraham,  was  to  fumish  through 
him  the  means  of  the  world's  illumination — to  lay  a  foundation  for 
the  world's  hope — through  him  to  open  the  treasures  of  infinite 
benignity  and  grace  to  the  family  of  man.  ISow,  so  far  as  Judaism 
coidd  go  to  benefit  man,  to  elevate  his  character  and  hopes,  it  was 
the  inheritance  of  the  Jews  alone.  I^ot  so  the  grace  of  the  Messiah. 
When  he  came  he  threw  down  the  Avail  of  partition,  and  eflaced  the 
line  of  family  distinctions  which  God  had  di-awn  by  receiving  the 
Jews  into  covenant  relation  with  liimsclf.  Henceforth  there  was  to 
be  neither  Jew  nor  Cireek,  bond  nor  free,  in  respect  to  the  Divine 
favour,  but,  as  Messias  has  declared,  there  shall  be  "  one  fold  and  one 
shepherd.'' 

If  what  has  now  been  said  is  a  true  exposition  of  this  interesting 
point,  it  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  practically,  and  agreeably  to 
the  great  purpose  of  the  covenant,  it  has  never  yet  been  completel}'- 
fulfilled,  either  as  it  respects  the  Jews  or  the  Gentiles  ;  and  espe- 
cially in  relation  to  the  descendants  of  Abraham.  They  do  not  as  a 
nation  enjoy  the  grace  and  privileges  of  the  Gospel.  Individual 
Jews  have  been  niaile  partakers  of  salvation  through  faith  in  the 
Son  of  God;  but  the  Hebrew  nation,  as  such,  remain  in  doctrine 
and  order  just  what  they  were  in  the  days  of  the  prophets,  as  far  as 
outward  circumstanot-s  will  allow.     The  reason  of  this  is  soon  told. 

B}'  their  unbelief  they  were  "broken  off"'  from  the  covenant  of 
grace,  exscinded  from  the  good  olive-tree,  and  by  consequence  have 
missed  the  Messiah.  "  Mevertheless.  when"  they  "  shall  turn  to  the 
Lord,  the  veil  shall  be  taken  away,"  (i2  Cor.  iii,  IG,)  "-for  God  is  able 
to  graft  them  in  again,"  and  "  if  they  abide  not  still  in  unbelief 
they  "shall  be  grafled  in,''  and  "so  all  Israel  shall  be  saved." 

Here,  in  our  opinion,  is  the  true  and  whole  idea  of  the  restoration 
of  the  Jews.  It  is  their  being  recovered  from  their  present  "fall" 
and  "blindness"  to  a  joint  possession  and  occupancy,  with  the  Gen- 
tiles, of  the  covenant  of  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ.  Sure  it  is, 
that  the  event  of  their  restoration  is  necessary  to  fill  up  the  outline 
of  covenant  engagement.  The  Gentiles  have  been  graffed  into  this 
covenant,  and  the  rografling  in  of  the  Jews  with  the  Gentiles  is  the 
doQtrinc  of  the  apostle,  stated  and  illustrated  in  the  eleventh  chapter 
of  Romans. 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jeios.  589 

We  nc^  proceed  to  consider  some  evidence  bearing  both  upon  the 
fact  and  the  nature  of  the  Jews'  restoration. 

And  we  will  begin  with  one  passage  from  the  mouth  of  the  great 
Propliet  of  the  Church.  It  is  Matt,  xxiii,  38,  39.  After  having  re- 
capitulated the  history  of  the  guilt  and  corruption  of  the  Jews,  from 
the  days  of  Abel  to  the  time  when  they  shed  the  blood  of  Zachariah 
before  the  altar,  our  Saviour  uttered  the  most  pathetic  lament  over  the 
doomed  city  and  nation,  that  ever  escaped  lips  upon  earth,  but  with 
the  same  breath  pronounced  a  prophetic  promise,  whose  growing  light 
relieves  the  blackness  of  the  clouds  of  Divine  wrath,  and  the  judg- 
ments vdiich  still  enshroud  them.  "Behold,"  he  said,  "your  house 
is  left  unto  you  desolate.  For  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  shall  not  see  me 
henceforth  till  ye  shall  say.  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord."  This  may  have  been  the  avrfully  interesting  moment 
when  the  Saviour  resolved  to  conceal  his  Divine  character  and  the 
evidences  of  his  benignant  mission  from  them;  when  "blindness  in 
part  happened  to  Israel."  If  so,  then  it  was  that  the  Divine  glory  arose 
and  departed  from  Jiis  temple  and  it  became  their  house.  It  was  no 
longer  the  sanctuary  of  Jehovah.  He  had  withdrawn  himself  from 
it,  and  now,  when  desolate,  he  had  bequeathed  it  to  them.  Sad  em- 
blem now  of  their  godless  state.  "  Henceforth  ye  shall  not  see  me," 
(as  if  remembering  the  covenant  of  his  own  lips,)  "'  till  ye  shall  say, 
Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord."  The  state  con- 
templated by  the  latter  member  of  this  prophetic  announcement,  is 
undeniably  one  of  admiration  and  joy.  It  foretells  the  recognition 
and  joyful  admission  of  the  glorious  character  of  Jesus  Christ  by  the 
Jews,  whom  as  a  nation  he  had  just  denounced.  Their  pronouncing 
him  blessed  would  be  a  refle.x:  action  of  that  grace  by  which  they 
shall  be  quickened  to  life  and  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  when  grafted 
in  again  upon  their  own  good  olive-tree.  It  Avill  be  impossible, 
without  doing  the  grossest  injustice,  both  to  the  language  itself  and  to 
the  context,  to  appropriate  this  prophec}'  to  the  events  which  shortly 
thereafter  took  place,  when  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  appeared  in 
the  overthrow  of  their  city  and  nation.  Equally  inadmissible  would 
be  the  attempt  to  interpret  it  by  the  revelations  of  the  day  of  final 
judgment.  Neither  the  crushing  judgments  of  God.  inflicted  tiirough 
pagan  power,  nor  the  awfully  sublime  disclosures  of  final  retribution, 
by  the  hand  of  Jesus  Christ,  can  bo  an  occasion  of  such  rapturous,  fe- 
licitous admiration  as  tliat  here  foretold  by  the  Saviour.  This  proph- 
ecy, then,  must  be  regarded  as  a  star  of  hope  to  Israel,  shining  with 
a  steady  promise  of  recovery  to  the  ancient  covenant,  and  of  a  full 
fruition  in  the  fruits  of  Messiah's  exaltation. 

Passing  by,  for  the  present  at  least,  numerous  testimonies,  similar 


690  The  New  Tesiaincnt  View  of  the  [October, 

in  character  and  imjjort,  in  the  written  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ,  we 
shall  proceed  to  examine  the  elaborate  views  of  St.  Paul  upon  the 
point,  contained  in  the  cleveuth  chapter  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 
And  if  our  readers  desire  to  feel  the  full  force  of  the  apostle's  reas- 
oning, and  of  the  evidence  uhich  he  gives  upon  the  subject,  they 
must  keep  in  mind  what  we  have  said  concerning  the  present 
moral  condition  and  relations  of  the  Jews,  namely  :  That  by  a  judi- 
cial act  of  God  they  have  been  "broken  off"  from  the  covenant  of 
redemption.  Hence  the  apostle  prefiices  his  argument  with  this 
question :  "  Hath  God  cast  away  his  people?"  To  this  he  replies,  in 
his  accustomed  strong  negation,  "  God  forbid,"  and  immediately  ad- 
duces his  own  experience  in  proof  of  the  assertion  that  "  God  hath 
not  cast  away  his  people  which  he  foreknew,"  "  for  I  also  am  an  Is- 
raelite of  the  seed  of  Abraham,  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin."  2sow  it 
is  impossible  to  understand  St.  Paul  as  speaking  of  anything  else 
than  the  grace  of  .Icsus  Christ  received  through  faith  in  his  death. 
Hereby  he  now  had  fellowship  with  God,  and  that  not  by  the  law  of 
righteousness,  but  '"  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,"  revealed  in  the 
fulfilled  covenant  which  the  Lord  Jehovah  had  made  with  their  father 
Abraham.  But  if  God  has  not  cast  away  his  people,  "AVhat  then'" 
(verse  7)  is  the  condition  of  Israel?  This  the  apostle  answers  by 
saying,  "  Israel  [meaning  the  body  of  the  Jews]  hath  not  obtained 
that  which  he  seckcth  for ;  but  the  election  [believers]  hath  obtained 
it,  and  the  rest  were  blinded."  The  meaning  of  this  passage  may 
be  expressed  thus :  Many  Jews,  among  whom  the  apostle  includes 
himself,  had  embiaced  Christianity,  and  were  rejoicing  in  the  bless- 
ings of  redempti(jn;  but  the  whole  number  of  believers  was  so  in- 
considerable a  minority  compared  with  the  nation,  that  the  apostle 
says,  "  Israel  hath  not  obtained"  the  blessings  of  the  covenant.  And 
in  this  case  it  was,  as  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  Ellas ;  when  that 
prophet  made  intercession  to  God  against  Israel  for  their  idolatry, 
some  had  adhered  to  tin-  worship  and  service  of  God.  "  even  so 
then,"  adds  Paul,  "  at  this  time  there  is  a  remnant  according  to  the 
election  of  grace."  ' 

The  question,  therefore,  which  is  asked,  and  impliedly  answered,  in 
the  eleventh  and  twelfth  verses,  must  relate  to  the  great  body  of  the 
nation,  who,  the  apostle  says,  (verse  7,)  were  "blinded."  The  case 
is  stated  thus :  "  1  say  then.  Have  thty  stumbled  that  they  should  fall  ? 
God  forbid;  but  rather  through  thoir  fall  salvation  is  come  unto  the 
Gentiles,  for  to  provoke  them  to  jealousy.  Now,  if  the  tail  of  thtiu 
be  the  riches  of  the  world,  and  the  diminishing  of  them  the  riches 
of  the  Gentiles,  how  much  more  their  fulness."  To  the  general 
reader  there  may  SL-em  to  be  a  diserepancc  in  this  statement  of  the 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  591 

apostle  ;  for  he  says,  "  they  have  not  stumbled  that  they  should  fall ;" 
and  then,  as  if  admitting  a  misstatement  in  the  declaration,  proceeds 
to  add,  that  "  through  their /a//  salvation  is  come  unto  the  Gentiles." 
A  little  critical  attention  to  this  passage  will  not  only  remove  the 
appearance  of  contradiction  in  the  ^vords  of  the  apostle,  but  vrill 
also  evolve  the  full  force  of  the  first  step  in  his  argument  in  support 
of  the  doctrine  that  Israel  shall  be  restored,  or  "  graffcd  in  again" 
upon  the  root  from  'which  they  had  been  broken  off. 

The  word  "fall,"  which  is  thrice  used  in  these  verses,  is  rendered 
from  two  different  words,  the  latter  of  which,  although  dei  Ived  from 
the  same  root,  is  materially  modified  in  its  signification  by  being  used 
with  a  prefix.  "When  the  apostle  asks,  "Have  they  stuml'led  that 
they  should /a//?"  he  uses  the  word  -eougl,  (pesosi,)  which  is  de- 
rived from  TTi-rw,  (pipto,)  and  means  to  perish,  as  when  one  perishes 
who  falls  in  battle ;  (see  Luke  xxi,  24 ;)  or  to  be  punish'^d,  as  in 
Rora.  xiv,  4.  But  when  he  answers  his  own  question,  (verse  1*2,) 
ho  employs  the  word  rrapaTrw/ja,  (paraptoma,)  which  signifies  an 
offence  or  trespass,  as  in  Rom.  v,  15,  and  18,  where  the  sin  of  Adam 
is  so  denominated.  By  using  this  latter  term  to  expi-ess  the  sin  and 
lapsed  condition  of  our  common  progenitor,  the  apostle  designed  to 
show  that  the  "offence"  of  our  first  parent,  though  a  grievous 
trespass,  was  not  a  fiill  beyond  recovery.  Using  the  same  term  in 
relation  to  the  defection  of  Israel,  St.  Paul  clearly  shows  that  they 
had  not  fallen  hcijond  recovery,  but  that  they  had  committed  a  great 
fault ;  that  they  had  fallen  into  a  mischievous  offence,  for  which  they 
had  been  '•  broken  off,'"  and,  consequentl}',  had  not  obtained  that  which 
they  sought  for.  Hence,  although  they  had  stumbled  and  fell,  it  was 
but  a  stumbling  from  v;hich  they  might  be  recovered.  For  "if  they 
abide  not  in  unbelief"  they  "  shall  be  graffed  in  again,"  (verse  23.) 
Adam  fell,  but  God  raised  him  and  his  posterity  up  "again," 
"  through  the  free  gift  of  one  unto  justification  of  life."  Israel  also 
has  sturabled,  but  has  not  perished,  for  his  offence  is  not  of  a  nature 
to  preclude  his  recovery,  any  more  than  was  the  fall  of  Adam.  Yer- 
bally  their  guilt  is  alike,  and  God  is  able  to  graff  them  in  again 
"into  their  own  olive-tree,"  (verses  23,  24.) 

The  nature  of  their  offence,  in  the  apostle's  argument,  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  the  proof  that  the  Jews  shall  be  restored  to  the  cove- 
nant from  which  they  were  broken  off",  as  hereby  it  is  shown  to  be 
possible  for  them  to  be  saved;  and  it  clearly  illustrates  the  sense  of 
tSt.  l^'auVs  words,  when  he  says  "that  God  hath  not  cast  away  his 
people  which  he  foreknew,"  (verse  2.) 

Secondly,  From  the  possihility  of  their  recovery,  shown  by  the 
nature  of  their /a//,  the  apostle  proceeds  to  prove  that  Israel's  res- 


oS2  The  New  Testa?ncnt  View  of  the  [October, 

toratlon  is  hi;:;lily  probable.  The  following  quotation  will  exhibit  the 
grounchyork  of  the  second  degree  of  the  argument  by  -which  his  gen- 
eral conclusion  in  relation  to  their  ultimate  restoration  is  maintained. 
Beginning  with  verse  15,  he  proceeds  to  verse  25  inclusive,  to  say: 

"  For  if  the  caftini;;  away  of  tlicm  be  the  roeonciling  of  the  world,  what  shall 
the  receiving'  of  them  bo,  but  life  from  the  dead  '? 

•'  For  if  the  first-fniit  be  holy,  the  lump  is  also  holy :  and  if  the  root  be 
holy,  so  are  the  branches. 

"  And  if  some  of  the  branches  be  broken  olT,  and  thou,  being;  a  -wild  olive- 
tree,  wert  pratled  in  among  them,  and  with  them  p.irtakest  of  the  root  and 
fatness  of  the  olive-tree  ; 

"  Eoast  not  against  the  branches.  But  If  thou  boast,  thou  bearest  not  the 
root,  but  the  root  thee. 

"  Thou  -wilt  say  then.  The  branches  were  broken  off,  that  I  might  be  grafi'ed 
in. 

"  Well ;  because  of  unbelief  they  were  broken  off,  and  thou  standest  by  faith. 
Be  not  high-minded,  but  fear  : 

"  For  it'  God  spared  not  t!;e  natural  branches,  take  heed  lest  he  also  spare 
not  thee. 

"Behold  therefore  the  gr)odne;-s  and  severity  of  God:  on  them  which  fell, 
severity  ;  but  toward  thee,  goodness,  if  thou  continue  in  his  goodness  ;  otherwise 
thou  also  shalt  be  cut  oil. 

"  And  thuij  o/y-i,  if  thiy  ohide  not  stilt  in  v  nhelief,  shall  Ic  grajfed  in  :  for  God 
is  able  to  graij  thcin  in  ai/ain. 

"  For  if  thou  wert  cut  out  of  tlie  olive  tree  which  is  wild  by  nature,  and  wert 
graffed  contrary  to  nature  into  a  good  olive-tree  :  how  much  more  shall  these, 
tchick  be  the  natural  firnnchcs^  he  graffcd  into  thrir  ov.-n  olive-tree  ? 

'•  For  I  would  not.  brethren,  that  ye  should  be  ignorant  of  this  mystery, 
(lest  ye  should  be  wl.-o  in  }our  own  conceit?,)  that  blindness  in  part  is  hap- 
pened to  Israel,  until  the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles  be  come  in." 

"We  have  italicised  such  portions  of  this  passage  as  we  desire  the 
reader  to  rellcct  upon,  as  it  is  not  our  intention  to  comment  upon  the 
whole  of  the  quotation.  The  specific  proof,  we  may  just  say  in  pass- 
ing, all  goes  to  sustain  the  general  doctrine  that  Israel  shall  be  graffed 
in  upon  the  covenant  of  redemption,  and  that  the  idea  of  their  rein- 
statement in  the  Abrahamic  grace  is  no  more  preposterous  than  that 
a  scion  from  a  wild  dlve-trco  should  be  grafied  upon  the  rout 
of  a  good  olive-tree.  ^Yithout  pretending  to  decide  precisely  in 
what  light  the  apostle  regarded  the  casting  away  of  Israel  as  a 
ground  or  an  occasion  of  reconciling  the  world,  it  is  natural  and  just 
that  we  assume  that,  in  a  manner,  the  fidl  of  the  Jews  did  redound  to 
the  riches  of  the  (i  entiles;  and,  in  turn,  the  recovery  of  Israel  will 
greatly  enlarge  the  joy  and  felicity  of  the  world.  Now,  if  the  apostle 
did  not  anticipate  their  resti-mtion  to  a  joint  possession  of  the  riches 
of  the  covenant  to  which  the  U entiles  had  been  exalted  in  the  "good- 
ness" of  God,  what  propriety  is  there  in  his  question :  "  What  shall 
the  receiving  of  them  bo  but  life  from  the  dead  "f  And  then,  how- 
could  this  joy — the  joy  of  recognition — of  mutual  interests  and  aims, 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  693 

be  attained  if  tlicy  ■^-ere  not  to  be  received  again  upon  the  very  root 
into  which  the  Gentiles  had  been  grafted ;  the  same  root  from  which 
Israel  had  been  "  cut  off?" 

And  we  may  be  permitted  to  ask,  in  this  connexion,  did  the  be- 
lieving Gentiles  inherit,  through  tlie  Jews,  any  other  than  the  spir- 
itual benefits  of  the  covenant?  The  theocracy,  the  temple,  the 
ritual,  in  a  word,  all  that  pertained  to  "  the  law  of  a  carnal  com- 
mandment," was  abolished.  The  entire  systems  of  their  political  and 
social  organizations  were  swept  away  by  that  storm  which  their  seers 
had  heralded  in  prophetic  admonitions.  The  riches  which  had  been 
made  over  to  the  Gentiles,  or  rather  to  wkich  they  had  been  called 
by  the  ministry  of  the  apostles  since  the  Jews  had  "judged  them- 
selves unworthy  of  everlasting  life,"  (Acts  xiii,  4G,)  were  then  noth- 
ing else  than  the  blessings  of  knowledge  and  salvation,  "which  were 
brought  unto  them  by  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 

Again,  the  probability  that  Israel  shall  be  restored  ultimately  to 
this  inheritance,  is  shown  by  the  logical  significance  of  the  figure  of 
the  "first-fruits'^  "  For  if  the  first-fruits  be  holy,  the  lump  is  also 
holy."       '  '       - 

In  order  to  see  the  argumentative  force  of  this  figure,  as  applied 
by  the  apostle  to  the  matter  now  under  discussion,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary that  we  illustrate  the  signification  of  the  figure  itself.  This 
can  be  done  easily  by  referring  to  Exod.  xxii,  29,  where  the  law  re- 
lating to  this  point  is  stated  in  the  folloAving  language :  "  Thou  shalt 
not  delay  to  offer  the  first  of  thy  ripe  fruits,  and  of  thy  liquors :  the 
first  born  of  thy  sons  shalt  thou  give  unto  me."  In  Leviticus  xix,  25, 
after  defining  what  the  "first-fruits"  are,  a  reason  is  given  for  the 
precept  just  quoted,  namely :  "  That  it  [the  land]  may  yield  unto 
you  the  increase  thereof."  The  moral  purpose  of  this  law,  then,  must 
have  respected  the  weakness  and  dependence  of  man  principally,  if 
not  wholly;  ami  its  enactment  was  intended  to  connect  his  faith  and 
feelings,  doubtless,  with  the  purposes  and  ways  of  God  in  his  be- 
nignant providence.  Hence,  by  offering  ih^  first-fruits  of  the  tree 
or  vine,  by  a  figure,  they  consecrated  the  after  fruits,  or  the  whole 
harvest  to  God,  and  thereby  acknowledged  their  dependence  upon 
their  Maker ;  and,  also,  they  in  this  manner  implored  his  blessing  to 
enable  them  to  secure  the  whole  harvest.  This  done,  the  offering 
of  the  first-fruits  became  a  pledge  of  the  harvest,  for  it  was  sup- 
posed, and  justly  too,  that  when  piously  done,  the  Divine  blessing 
was  secured  for  that  purpose. 

In  a  sense  corresponding  vrith  thi.s,  the  same  figure  is  used  by  St. 
Patil,  in  reference  to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurreciion,  in  1  Cor.  xv,  20, 
in  which  he  says,  "  Ijut  now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become 


694  The  New  Testamtnt  View  of  the  [October, 

thefirst-fnats  of  them  that  slept."  If  any  regard  is  to  be  paid  to 
the  la^v  of  emphasis,  in  tiio  interpretation  of  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
perhaps  no  example  can  be  stated  ^Yhcre  it  is  more  applicable  than 
in  the  present  instance.  For  to  confine  the  meaning  of  this  passage 
■vvithin  the  simple  hl.storlcal  fact  that  Christ  ^Yas  the  first  to  rise  from 
the  dead,  would  be  to  make  it  supremely  insignificative.  Manifestly 
the  scope  of  the  apostle's  argument  requires  us  to  understand  him  as 
affirming  the  universal  resurrection  of  the  race,  ■v\hom,  in  his  media- 
tion, the  Saviour  represented.  (See  verse  23.)  The  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ  became,  then,  the  pledge  and  assurance  of  our  own  res- 
uiTection. 

These  illustrations  of  the  law  of  the  "  first-fruits"  -will  enable  us 
to  see  the  argumentative  force  of  the  figure  when  used  by  the  apostle 
in  relation  to  the  future  restoration  of  Israel  to  his  forfeited  covenant 
blessings.  He  says,  in  Kom.  xi,  5,  that  there  is  "  a  remnant  according 
to  the  election  of  grace ;"  and  in  verse  7,  that  which  the  "  election" 
had  "  obtained"  Israel  had  missed.  Those  Jews,  then,  who  had  em- 
braced Christianity  were  i\\G  first-fruits  of  the  nation ;  indeed,  they 
formed  the  root  and  basis  of  the  Christian  Church,  historically,  for 
the  first  converts  to  the  Gospel  were  Israelites,  so  that  the  Church 
of  Christ  was  founded  upon  them.  If,  then,  the  apostle  uses  the 
figure  in  question  only  as  a  mere  decoration  to  his  discourse,  it 
would  be  solemn  trilling,  equally  void  of  meaning  and  honesty. 
33ut  the  whole  context  shows  that  he  considered  the  "first- 
fruits"  of  Christianity  among  the  descendants  of  Abraham,  then 
already  gathered  to  the  covenant,  a  pledge  that  "  all  Israel  shall  be 
saved."  For  "  as  the  branches  folloAv  the  nature  of  the  root,  so  do 
the  Jews  follow  the  condition  of  Abraham  and  the  holy  patriarchs 
with  respect  to  the  outward  privileges  of  the  covenant.  "Was  the 
root  hoi/?  so  are  the  branches  holy ;  not  inherently,  but  federally 
holy,  being  consecrated  and  separated  from  the  world  unto  the  ser- 
vice of  God.  It",  iliLn,  Almighty  God,  by  entering  into  cuvenant  with 
Abraham,  hallowed  to  himself  all  his  posterity,  even  as  the  first-finiits 
hallowed  the  whole  lump,"  even  so  the  gathering  of  the  first-fruits  of 
Israel  unto  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  has  become  the  pledge  of  the  re- 
demption of  the  ancient  people,  "  for  God  is  able  to  graff  them  in 
again  ....  into  their  own  olive-tree." 

Thirdly :  But  the  argument  of  the  apostle  does  not  stop  with  2:)roh- 
abilities.  It  ranges  higher,  and  attains  a  climax  in  the  sublime 
heights  of  certainty  itself.  Indeed,  what  we  have  already  said  will 
be  seen  to  wear  very  much  the  air  of  decisiveness,  if  it  be  remem- 
bered that  the  apostle  was  writing  under  the  influence  of  a  plenary 
inspiration,  which  gave  to  his  conclusions  the  whole  authority  of  a 


1856.]  Restoratio7i  of  the  Jews.  595 

revelation  from  God.  And  it  is  important  to  keep  this  fact  in  mind, 
othcnvise  we  may  come  to  regard  his  doctrine  as  only  the  deduc- 
tion of  an  expert  reasoner,  and,  consequently,  wanting  in  that  author- 
ity which  ought  to  settle  our  faith  in  this  matter. 

In  verses  23  and  24  he  states  a  conclusion  drawn  from  the  prem- 
ises upon  which  wo  have  already  commented.  It  is  in  the  follow- 
ing words,  namely:  '•  xVnd  they  also,  if  they  abide  not  still  in  unbe- 
lief, shall  be  gralled  in :  fur  God  is  able  to  graff  them  in  again. 
For  if  thou  wert  cut  out  of  the  olive-tree  which  is  wild  by  nature,  and 
wert  graffed  contrary  to  nature  into  a  good  olive-tree,  how  much  more 
shall  these,  which  be  the  natural  branches,  be  graffed  into  tJicir  own 
olive-tree.''  When  the  apostle  says  that  God  is  able  to  graQ'  them 
in  again,  he  not  only  asserts  a  power  which  implies  the  moral  pro- 
priety of  the  thing  to  be  done,  but  his  language  also  hicludes  the  idea 
of  a  disposition  in  God  which  is  actively  engaged  to  secure  the  ob- 
ject anticipated.  A  parallel  use  of  the  word  able,  by  the  apostle, 
occurs  in  Heb.  vii,  25.  Here  he  reasons  from  the  disposition  of 
Christ,  manifested  in  his  mediation  for  sinners,  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  is  proper  to  eave  them  "  that  come  unto  God  by  him."  At 
least  the  ideas  of  power  and  disposition  are  so  blended  that  they 
constitute  the  ground  of  the  sinner's  hope.  This  mode  of  argument 
the  apostle  uses  in  reference  to  the  restoration  of  the  Jews.  The 
fact  tliat  their  fall  was  not  an  irrecoverable  one;  that  God  had  only 
broken  off  the  branches  ;  that  his  goodness  had  been  shown  upon  the 
Gentiles  who  were  destitute  of  merit;  that  the  fulness  of  the  Divine 
compassion  toward  Israel  had  been  restrained  only  by  their  own  unbe- 
lief;  and  that  "as  concerning  the  Gospel,  they  are  enemies  [only]  for 
your  sake;  but  as  touching  the  election,  they  are  [still  the]  beloved 
for  the  fathers'  sake,"  from  these  facts  the  apostle  justly  concludes 
that  the  "  natural  branches  shall  be  graffed  into  their  own  olive- 
tree." 

If  what  the  apostle  had  thus  far  said  could  bo  justly  considered  as 
having  no  higher  authority  than  that  of  a  legitimate  deduction  from 
the  facts  of  the  case,  it  will  be  impossible,  we  think,  to  deny  to  him, 
in  his  testimony  in  verses  25  and  26,  the  complete  moral  evidence 
of  prophecy  itself  "  For,"  he  saj^s,  •'  I  would  not,  brethren,  that  ye 
should  be  ignorant  of  this  mystery,  (lest  ye  should  be  wise  in  your 
own  conceits,)  that  blindness  in  part  is  happened  to  Israel,  until  the 
fulness  of  the  Gentiles  be  come  in.  And  so  all  I  srael  shall  be  saved." 
Here,  then,  is  a  solemn  and  explicit  declaration  that  "  all  Israel  shall 
be  saved.''  But  his  language,  we  think,  is  to  be  interpreted  as  re- 
lating to  the  nation  at  large,  for  the  scope  of  the  subject  requires 
this  construction.     The  apostle  is  discussing  general  relations  and 


596  The  New  Testament  Vieiv  of  the  [October, 

general  issues.  The  "fulness  of  the  Gentiles"  means  the  nations 
of  the  earth  as  nations;  and,  in  like  manner,  "all  Israel"  is  to  be 
understood  in  reference  to  their  recovery  in  a  sense  corresponding 
•vrith  the  use  of  the  term  "  Israel"  when  the  apostle  speaks  of  their 
"fall."  Their  being  "  saved,"  in  the  sense  of  the  vrord  as  here  used, 
will  be  fulfilled  in  their  accepting  Christ  as  their  Lord  and  Saviour, 
vrhereupon  they  will  be  "  gralled  again"  upon  the  covenant  which  God 
made  with  their  father  Abraham.  This  construction  of  the  passage 
appears  the  more  necessary  by  what  St.  Paul  affirms  concerning  the 
instrumentalities  by  wliich  their  restoration  is  to  be  accomplished. 
In  verses  30  to  32  ho  holds  the  following  language :  "  For  as  ye  in 
times  past  have  not  believed  God,  yet  have  now  obtained  mercy 
through  their  unbelief;  even  so  have  these  also  now  not  believed, 
that  through  your  mere}'  they  also  may  obtain  mercy.  For  God 
hath  concluded  them  all  in  unbelief,  that  he  might  have  mercy  upon 
all."  Here,  certainly,  it  is  clear  that  in  some  important  way  the  Gen- 
tiles are  to  be  the  agents  of  the  recovery  of  Israel,  and  the  nature 
of  the  means  to  be  employed  is  very  plainly  intimated  by  the 
phrase  "your  mercy;"  that  is,  by  the  employment  of  such  efforts 
and  influences  as  will  remove  their  unbelief  and  prejudice,  which  are 
the  great  existing  barriers  to  their  salvation  through  Christ  Jesus. 

The  passages  from  the  Scriptures  which  have  now  been  quoted, 
are  so  clearly,  and  so  directly  related  to  the  doctrine  under  discus- 
sion,^that  to  ourselves,  at  least,  it  seems  unnecessary  to  multiply  them 
further.  For  if  those  cited,  together  with  this  obviously  natural  and 
just  exposition  of  them,  fail  to  produce  in  the  mind  of  our  readers 
convictions  corresponding  with  our  own,  in  relation  to  this  general 
subject,  we  shall  despair  of  disabusing  their  minds  of  the  influence 
of  traditive  opinions  and  prejudices.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  in 
some  instances  we  have  been  too  general  in  our  statements,  and  we 
may  also  have  assumed  too  much  in  reference  to  the  familiar  acquaint- 
ance of  some  of  our  readers  v/ith  the  general  grounds  of  this  ques- 
tion, both  with  respect  to  the  Scripture  evidence,  and  the  true  means 
by  which  its  logical  import  and  its  relations  to  this  subject  are  made 
to  appear. 

We  trust  that  our  readers  are  now  prepared  to  appreciate  a  sum- 
mary view  of  the  whole  of  the  preceding  argument,  upon  not  only 
the  subject-matter  of  this  article,  but  also  the  influence  which  the 
evidence  in  relation  to  the  history  of  the  "  ten  tribes"  should  exert 
upon  the  doctrinal  subject  of  the  Jews'  restoration.  That  the  ten 
tribes  were  included  in  the  restoration  to  their  rights  and  fran- 
chises in  the  land  of  promise,  at  the  close  of  the  Eabylonish  cap- 
tivity, coextensivoly  with  Judah,  is  a  position  which  we  must  bo 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jevjs.  697 

allowed  to  think  incontrovertible  by  a  just  exposition  of  tlie  Bible 
evidence  bearing  upon  this  point.  We  entertain  no  doubt  that  those 
predictions  and  promises  contained  in  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  arulEzekiel, 
•which  disclose  marked  intimations  of  Divine  beni^ity,  to  be  realized 
in  the  social  and  political  conditions  of  the  Jews,  were  fulfilled  an- 
tecedently to  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  this  class  of  bless- 
ings belonged  exclusively  to  the  Jews.  But  the  other,  and  only 
class  of  objects,  namely,  spiritual  injluences,  which  we  commonly  call 
the  grace  of  God,  belong  equally  to  Gentiles  and  Jews.  These 
latter  promises  were  fulfilled  in  the  incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ,  at 
least  so  far  that  the  covenant  of  grace  was  executed,  and  life  and 
salvation  are  offered  to  the  world.  And  now  let  it  be  borne  in 
mind,  that  the  two  classes  of  predictions  specified,  comprise  all  the 
testimony  in  the  Old  Testament  which  can,  by  any  possibility,  be 
considered  as  yielding  evidence  upon  the  subject  of  the  Jews"  future 
restoration.  If,  therefore,  any  new  light  is  to  be  found  anyvrhere 
upon  this  point,  it  can  be  found  in  the  2sew  Testament  only.  But 
if  Christ  and  his  apostles,  or  either  of  them,  give  no  intimations 
that,  in  some  distant  future  period  of  the  world,  the  Jews,  as  a  na- 
tion, are  to  be  brought  back  to  "the  land  which  God  gave  to  their 
fathers,"  in  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  it  follows  inevitably  that  there 
is  no  evidence  to  support  this  notion;  then,  no  such  occurrence  is  to 
take  place,  and  the  whole  idea  is  a  mere  hypothesis.  And  what 
does  either  Christ  or  his  apostles  say  upon  the  subject  of  the  recov- 
ery of  the  •'  ten  tribes"  from  their  alleged  penal  seclusion  and  isola- 
tion ;  or  what  of  the  gathering  together  the  nation  in  the  "  land  of 
promise,''  and  their  reorganization  in  any  peculiar  social  and  politi- 
cal form  ;  or,  indeed,  of  their  being  brought  into  that  land  at  all  in 
fulfilment  of  prophecy?-  Not  one  word,  we  unhesitatingly  reply,  is 
said  in  relation  to  anything  of  the  kind!  jSor,  indeed,  does  either 
of  them  say  anything  which  contains  the  thought  by  implication 
even,  uiuch  less  do  they  openly  teach  the  doctrine  of  a  secular  res- 
toi-ation  as  the  event  which  is  to  fulfil  the  language  of  prophecy, 
nor,  indeed,  as  the  necessary  cognate  of  a  spiritual  restoration  of  the 
Jews  to  the  Aerahamic  covenant. 

We  may  now  repeat  what  has  been  before  intimated  respecting 
the  chronology  of  prophecy,  namely :  That  any  prophetic  promise  of 
grace,  which  overlaps  the  period  in  which  Messias  was  to  appear  in 
the  wurlfl.  foretold  an  inheritance  designed  for  a  common  occupancy 
by  both  Jews  and  Gentiles.  Such  scriptures  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment cannot,  therefore,  be  pressed  into  the  service  of  a  dogma,  which 
goes  to  secularize  the  great  objects  of  prophecy  in  relation  to  the 
future  condition  of  the  Jews. 


598  Tlie  New  Testament  View  of  the  [October, 

And  now,  moreover,  it  is  appropriate  and  important  that  we  refer 
to  the  rule  which  has  been  illustrated  already,  and  by  which  we  are 
to  be  guided  in  makini';  up  our  final  verdict  upon  the  general  issue. 
If,  then,  those  prcdicticius  which  we  have  sho'ivn  have  been  fulfilled 
in  a  restoration  of  the  '•  house  of  Jacob"  from  their  captivity  in  Baby- 
lon by  the  hand  of  Cynis,  arc  thought  to  contain  another  sense, 
then  the  teachings  of  (.'hrist  and  his  apostles  settle  that  meaning  to 
be  a  restoration  to  the  covenant  of  grace  in  the  sense  maintained  in 
this  discussion,  as  they  do  not  anywhere  give  forth  opinions  contrary 
to  the  doctrinal  sense  of  their  own  language,  which  we  have  quoted, 
and  shown  to  be  exclusively  spiritual  in  its  application.  But  it  is 
only  that  class  of  prophecies  which  promise  spiritual  blessings  that 
can  be  claimed  to  be  yet  unfulfilled,  and  surely  there  are  no  discreet 
minds  which  will  pretend  that  such  scriptures  prove  a  secular  res- 
toration of  the  Jev.'s.  We  do  not  concede  that  any  prophecy  has  a 
double  sense:  but  if  it  were  allowed  that  those  scriptures  which 
speak  of  the  exaltation  of  the  Jews  have  a  twofold  meaning,  it  Avould 
make  nothing  for  the  doctrine  against  which  we  are  reasoning,  be- 
cause the"ls'e\v  Testament"  comment  shows  that  no  other  than 
spiritual  grace  can  flow  from  the  covenant  into  which  the  Jews  are 
to  be  "  grafl'ed  again."  The  announcements  of  Isaiah  Jeremiah,  and 
Ezekiel,  so  far  as  their  ])redictions  influence  the  secular  rights  of  the 
Jews,  have  been  fulfilled,  and  their  verifications  are  recorded  on  the 
page  of  history.  'J'hosc  same  prophets,  when  foretelling  the  coming 
of  Messias,  and  the  benefits  which  were  to  follow  the  establishment 
of  his  kingdom,  open  a  door  of  hope  to  the  world;  set  out  "a  light 
for  the  Gentiles,"  and  invite  to  a  '•  feast  of  fat  things  made  for  all 
people." 

This  latter  class  of  prophecies  sheds  a  light  upon  human  history 
which  converges  to  the  day  of  the  Son  of  man,  when  the  Immanuel 
should  be  revealed,  and  thence  diverfres  over  all  the  "  nations  of  the 
earth."  ]3ut  in  neither  of  these  classes  of  evidence  is  there  any  proof 
of  a  secular  restoration.  Now  unless  there  is  other  light  upon  the 
subject  than  the  teachings  of  Christ  and  his  holy  apostles,  it  does 
not  exist  at  all,  for  they  do  not  hint  even  a  hope  of  such  an  event. 

There  are,  indeed,  ancient  predictions,  whose  light,  for  a  time,  is 
intercepted  by  the  unbelief  of  Israel,  but  it  breaks  forth  again  in  the 
refined  exhibition  of  Christ  and  his  apostles,  like  the  benign  sun- 
beam when  the  storm-cloud  has  passed  away.  Such  is  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Danielitic  prophecies  concerning  the  "  kingdom"  of  "  the 
Son  of  man."  (Dan.  ii.  44  ;  vii,  14, 18,  27.)  Such,  also,  are  the  doc- 
trinal sentiments  inculcated  in  the  prophetic  parables  of  the  Saviour. 
See  Matt.  .\iii,  "24-33,  and  their  parallels.    But  not  a  word  any- 


1856.]  Restoration  of  the  Jeivs.  599 

^yhere,  so  far  as  v."e  are  able  to  discover,  in  any  New  Testament  writer, 
about  an  earthly  inheritance.  ]*^ow  is  it  at  all  likel}',  if,  in  fact,  the 
reappearance  of  the  Jews  in  Palestine,  and  their  national  settlement 
in  their  former  earthly  inheritance,  is  a  necessary  harbin;^er  of  their 
recovery  to  the  covenant  of  redemption,  that  no  mention  would  be 
made  of  such  an  event  by  any  one  of  the  New  Testament  prophets? 

And  our  readers  are  to  remember  that  there  is  no  fallin;;  back  to 
Old  Testament  predictions  for  the  proof  of  this  hypothesis,  for  the 
testimony  which  relates  to  their  civil  and  social  conditions  has  been 
verified  already  in  their  recover}'  from  Dabylon,  while  those  predic- 
tions that  infolded  spiritual  privileges  belong  equally  to  Gentiles  and 
Jews.  And  there  can  be  no  mistaking  their  theological  signification, 
as  the  matter  of  these  announcements  is  a  subject  of  daily  expe- 
rience by  every  true  believer.  What  he  feels  of  the  renewing  and 
exalting  power  of  the  Gospel,  is  a  true  exponent  of  that  restoration 
which  aAvaits  the  descendants  of  Abraham.  The  riches  of  that 
hope  and  consolation  which  we  derive  from  the  stock  of  the  good 
"  olive-tree,"  Israel,  when  they  shall  turn  unto  the  Lord,  shall  re- 
ceive as  a  common  "  inheritance  with  the  saints  in  light." 

Neio-Yoik,  1856. 


600  Table  of  Biblical  Chronology.  [October, 


Akt.  \n[.— table  of  BIDLICAL  CHROXOLOGY. 

N.  B. — The  years  of  the  different  eras  begin  at  narro^y  points  of 
the  calendar  year,  accordiiv^  to  the  time  of  the  event,  or  epoch, 
■which  they  ^Ycre  df-sii^ued  to  conimemorate;  and  in  all  instances 
they  are  antedated  to  that  fixed  season ;  accordingly,  fractions  of 
years  are  ahvays  included  in  the  date  immediately  following  them, 
so  as  to  preserve  an  accurate  series.  These  principles  of  computa- 
tion are  positively  known  to  have  obtained  in  many  ancient  eras, 
a-nd  their  general  application  is  admitted  by  various  chronologers, 
although  they  have  failed  to  carry  them  out  consistently.  Each 
year,  in  the  following  table,  is  accordingly  divided,  for  the  sake  of 
accuracy  and  convenience,  into  quarters,  beginning  respectively 
with  the  first  day.-;  of  January,  2\i.san,  (about  April),  July,  and 
Tisri,  (about  OcLol)er),  the  ordinal  number,  in  the  appropriate  era, 
being  set  in  the  first  quarter,  and  continued  by  two  points,  (.  .),  in 
the  other  quarters  of  the  same  year.  Every  event  is  placed  opposite 
the  quarter,  during  which  it  actually  occurred,  its  nominal  date 
being  in  the  current  year  of  the  era,  according  to  which  it  is  dated; 
•when  the  season  of  the  year  is  doubtful,  a  brace  is  set  to  those 
quarters,  in  the  course  of  which  it  took  place.  The  years  of  each 
era  are  separated  l»y  a  dash  drawn  entirely  across  the  column. 
For  the  sake  of  economy  of  space,  those  years  not  specially  con- 
nected with  any  event  in  Scripture  chronology,  are  omitted,  their 
place  being  sup]-)licd  by  figures,  set  transversely  in  the  columns,  and 
representing  the  immbcr  of  years  omitted.  The  proof  texts  of  each 
date  are  inserted  in  an  adjacent  column,  between  parenthesis  marks. 
This  mathematic;il  construction  of  the  years,  by  means  of  the  mid- 
dle column,  te^ts  the  chronology  at  manv  points. 

It  should  also  be  observed  that  Dr.  Jarius  (Introd.,  ttc.)  has 
shown  it  to  be  In'ghly  probable  that  an  omission  of  one  consulship 
has  occurred  in  the  lioman  annals,  and  that,  consequently,  all  events 
between  B.  C.  45  and  A.  D.  IGl  (except  those  connected  with  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem)  ought  to  be  dated  one  year  earlier,  in 
\>-hich  case,  the  years  of  DanieFs  seventy  -weeks,  and  of  the  reign 
of  Artaxerxes  Longimanus,  should  likewise  bear  date  one  year 
earlier. 


1856.] 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


S  5  Si:ccr£s;o3  of  Fatiiarchs 

3  or  Rulere. 

•<3 


!  o  1 
|236i 


!23T|Ienosc 


1^ 

i59 


S^IJCATN-AN 


I   [-MAIIALiLr.nLe. 


1  CO 
461"  { 

j;J 

462, 


C-GeQ.  i,-27,  31.) 


131 j  1" 

::  1 ::  I 


I  o  '  o  1 


(b  Gen.  V,  3.) 


235  ;1U5<:|    ? 

106'iTT'i  1      ("^  Gen.  v,  6.) 


[•   236  I  106  j  1--   n 


i  8-25  I  195  ;  9uJ  ,    r 
''826il96i  91  il"! 


.  ..  I 


(J  Gen.  V,  9.) 


•■  i 


I  c»  I  a?  !  CO  cr 


305  2!;r>  v.o   lO'-- 


I  4 


39G  '  206  :161  ;  71  '  le  j"!   («  Gen.  v,  12.) 


I  -  I 


I    I    1    I 

o  ]  o  ,  o  i  o  I   I 

-I— '— i  i  I 

3:30  i  225  135  65f  I  £.  i 


::  lL 


461  I  S;J1  I  226  ,  136  66 

..  I  ..  I  ..  I  ..  I  .. 


If  n   (f  Gen.  V.  IS."* 


Fouiixii  Seuies.  Vol.  A'IIL— 38 


I      I     I 


601 


J  !37Te- 


I  •■■■  I 

-J 

,3711 


602 


Tabic  of  Biblical  Chro7iologij.  [October, 


1  .-ri 

1 

e 
-• 

1 

1 

tlii 

Conttnijvrarj  Events. 

''.r 

"623 

6S¥ 

•• 

:: 

876 

■gsT 

•• 

"ass 

959" 

cc 

1043 

Ie.noche J 

piinULbElAHf'-' 

■Lamech' ^ 

:: 

J!- 
"6ST 

.. 

o 

■■: 

493 

557' 

55S' 

3ji 

.. 

iL 

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•• 
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C95 

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:: 

80S 

297' 
"362 

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.. 

549' 
550 
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"col 

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"293 

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592 

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593 

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•• 

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lu 

ll5 

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■• 

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la 
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1. 

j 

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65!> 

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"308 

.. 

■.: 

309 

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^^ 
lC5i 

■ 
1      (J  Gen.  y,  IS.)                      f 

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1     (i>Gen.  V,  21.)              f 

:;  1 :: 

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i 

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if 

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■ 
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-j      (i  Gen.  V,  25.)       j" 

IT. 

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:; 
- 

Si.'l 

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■&5S 

912^ 

1 1 

1      {kGen.v,5.)        f 

1    (1  Gen.  V,  22,  23.)    f 
■£nochtru7islulcdU 

1                                   f 

1 

.f 

1S56.] 


Table  of  Bihlkal  Chronologij. 


G03 


i  ^  M  I  i  11^!  ^  11= ll^ 


I i 


^ 

i05T 

Tobl 

XoAiiK.. 

::iJ 


CoDtemp- rarj-  Events, 


I  ;^!_1  iM  1|_1|J    (^«-.v.s. 


-M  I   -r:!  ;   :M  ;   -M  I   -M  ;  CI       ?. 


jLii  li  i 

S22  1  732 


662  '  59T  I  370 


CC'  I   CC      CO 


J 1! 


1 5 


ci 

6S0  :  45:B    '206  '  S4  : 

::  ]  ::  I  ::  I  ::  !  :: 


I  CO  I   CO  I  CO  1  CO 
i9i0j'S0J,"T75  '  64T   301  i  179 


(b  Gen.  V,  8.) 


sue 


{■=  Gen.  V,  10, 11.) 


So  I  'fEnos  died,  c i   3'Wl 


S41  I  T70  I  5W  ,  362  j  130  L  -^  ]      ('^  Gon.  v,  13, 14.) 


J-l-i-J- 


CO  '  ^  I  C^  I  c-o 


Cainan  died.'i. 


,r« 


S01,&U    417    2:;5^"  Jl      (<=  Gen.  v,  16, 17.,       | 


LliLL 


^  Jfa/utlaUel  died.* 


fOcD.  V,  20.) 
Jairddied.f.... 


1- 


■^49    Ci;2  i  4S0  1 I 


GOl 


Tabic  of  Biblical  Clironology.  [October, 


<3l 

I 


I  Patnarclia  orKttlJre.; 


155S!  [ 


iiijiil 


I 


4^1  \  ::.]  1= 
4^1  i  .. 


Contemporary  Eve 


Fint  Divine  demmciation.a- 


ofj  "I     C'  Gen.  V,  32 ;  ir,  24;  x,  21.)  f 

••      [japhtVi  loi'iib J 

L 

M 

1 


23      1'=  !  1      (■-'  Gen.  si,  10.) 


904 ,;::'  r>i.'j"  __ 

..    I    ..    j    ..    ,595 


cr.  !  Ci 


I-! 


I 2614' 

2ei3, 

i:: ! 

a 

2621 


jWO;.  ••J  110 


"'i 


:[:' 


P4    ]      (•^  Gen.  v,  31.)  r  j_^. 


12U»    08 

::  I:: 


(<:  Gen.  V,  27.) 
(■'  Gen.  vii,  C,  11.) 


CO 


s    :  ifti/i  vselah  ditrj  < 

53     'W^Fivodhfrjuni ... 


16C0 

-  ! 
1\ 


Cu2 

C,2 

m 

"&13 

•• 

11 

CJ 

637 

SfT 

63- 

^        (ST  Gen.  viii,  13.)  "   I 

3    \ Flood  tuduU '   .. 


101  I    3    j  ll"  i")      (""Gen.  .xi,  m.)  f : 

^i^i^ll i 


ma , 

136;  ST  1  35i     5. 


::  I  t 

30"  I T' 


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Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


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1S5G.]  Table  of  BihliC'jI  Chronology. 


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Table  of  Biblical  Chonologij.  [October, 


1^1  j        Snccea^lf-n  of        |  ^"5 
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Table  of  Biilicul  Chronologij. 


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1S5G.]  Table  of  Biblical  Clironologij. 


61- 


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Table  of  Biblical  Chronologij. 


er 


1  .-ri              i  1 

.-5  |Piit.-iiTcli3orIlu:<re.|    .« 

1 

Conlerop-irarj  Events. 

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;    ••    1    ••    'l>.^rll,h  Saiot'i 

'    ••    1   ••   '.IXnvrfi  cor timnticith  Jonathan 

'   -      •■   ^Dcu-i?  atOath 

,.3113.---- 

i        * 

20  iA/r 

••    \Dar 

■d  <st.  A'-ullam.  Mizivh,  and  Il.voth 

d  ,it  K'-I'ah,  Ziph,  and  Jfuon. 

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Fouiviii  Skuies,  Vol.  Ylll.— 39 


CIS 


Tahlc  of  Biblical  Chronology.  [October, 


Patriarchs  or  Rulers. 


o 

8150 


1 1 


Ivl 


I  .=  _•  I 


Contemporary  Eve 


V,  5.) 


Ditriil  crounnd^ 

PhilUtines  dtfcaUd  by  David. 


Jehuft'iUs  expell-ed.. 


Ark  remortd.. 


(^2Sam.  Iv,  4;  li,  12.) 
I  )■  David's  k-indne^s  to  Jftphihoshethb . 


David's  adultery 


Solomon  bom 

A7nnon''a  incest.. 


Ahsalvm^a  rebellion' 


AdonijaKs  ■mvrpation  • 


liehohoam  horn- 
Solomon  anuintt 


:.   I     {c  2  Sam.  T,  4,  5.) 
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,=::::| 


1S56.] 


TaUc  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


619 


8163 


I        SuccessUn  of  £  E     J  I 


iPatri&icha  or  RuleiB. 


ConUmjvjrery  Events. 


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Interpolation.) 


First  Temple  dedicated  and  finished^.. . 
(b  1  Kings  vi,  3T,  3S.) 


(c  1  Kinsrs  xiv,  21.) 
(d  1  Kings  xi,  42.) 


I— 


Jeroboam  I  e , 

(e  1  Kings  xii,  1,  2,  20,  32,  33.) 


(f  2  Chron.  si,  17.) 

Rehdlioam's  apostasy  f 

IiiV(Won  iy  Shishak ? 

5^  i     (?  2  Chron.  xii,  2.) 


(h  1  Kings  xlv,  21.) 
(■  1  Kings  sv,  1.) 


(^  1  Kings  XV,  2.) 
20T|     (.1  1  Kings  XV,  9.) 


Ci:u 


Tuhle  of  Biblical  CJironology.  [October, 


^ 

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clii  or 

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V^  1  Kings  sv,  -'0  ) 

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(e  1  Kings  XV,  -J?.) 


••   n      fl  Kings  xxii.  4-:.: 
-g-'l  ^Ji.7io^7ia2:hut  lorn  f. 


I  13  : 

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1    5    :  n  f  I  i-r-l 


P25 


1S53.] 


Table  of  Biblical  Clivonology. 


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622 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology.  [October, 


Patnarcha  or     -"  =^ 
Rulers.        I  3-g 


■•     1   Jeho-    ]:   .. 


BAM  11.1 


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;;   1(5  2  Kingrs  iii.  1.)   ]   " 

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(i  2  Kings  xi,  1,)    i 


i 


(k2Kin53xi,3,4;-    " 
xii,!.) 


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0  2  Kings  xiv,  2.) 
Jwazioh. 


L  SOI . 


[(."'2  Kings  I,  SOj 
!(''2  Kiniraxiii,  1.)! 
»o  j 

I- 


!    1      I  Jeii.m-   (      ••   I 


I  CO  I — 


("2  Ki.  xiii, 

,     10.) 


185G.] 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


623 


'1 

Sncr,.s3ion  of 
Kulers. 

ii 

4     h 

n 

i 

Cot>temi..mrj-  Events. 

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Table  of  Biblical  Chronology.  ,    [October, 


L.    1.-    L-      F?i 

^ 

St 

Pii'jlurc 

IS  or 

imhn  I;! 

Contemporary  Events. 

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Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


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1S56.] 


Table  cf  Biblical  Chronology. 


631 


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G32 


Tuhlc  of  Biblical  Chronoiogy.  [October, 


ContcmxKirary  Even 


C-    S  cond  ^',v^y;.V/;.■^■sV.-7i.. 
;;   I  0  Ezra  yi,  15.) 


-|  I    ■■    I  I  "AlIASITKaUS" 

il    !"IJ 

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(c  Either!,  3.) 


(•' Either  ii,  13.) 


ITith'n.:'^  j-'-:f.:  cffa/n.-i  t7i.e  Jews  < 
(e  Ksther  iii,  7.) 
V><  I 
..     £'.vM.  r  uellr  rs  licr  people  f 

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'!     r 


('•  Thv.cydi.W:',  BelL  Peloix  i,  IS'.) 


E/.ra  vil,  S,  9.) 


1S5G.]  Table  of  Biblical  Clironologfj. 


633 


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Fourth  Series,  Vol.  YIII.— 40 


634 


Tahlc  of  Biblical  Chrouology.  October, 


C5 


«"} { 

^ 


4172 


15    ;  i  I 


I :;  ;-'■- 


,  4Go|  41C  ,    ..    I 


C<."ntemporary  Ev 


I      " 


(  mrod     the    Grent     cpr.oinUd ) 
\     l-ing  b>/  the  Jiot/uins.  ■  j 


^    I 


1^^ 


Battie  o/Actium. 


)   i  ITerocTs  dr.sjgn.  of  vf-  \   t 
f  (     building  the  t^iuipl.-.   f  \ 


,  Third  ianpU  founded . 


Annunciation  to  Zacharlas . 

Annunciation  to  Mary 

- .   '  Birth  of  John  the  Baptiat '  "o" 

W  Birth  P/ Christ - 


26  <riioUintoEij<jpt. 


Herod  di^d . 


27    Beturnfrom  Egypt- 


1856.] 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


635 


Succ>-s,.l.  n  of     Zi  li'^i"- 


ITjI 


i    !-.T 


05 

4196 


!4S3 


:^v....J:: 


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Ccnteir.p.irary  EvenU. 


TiRERius'8  association.. 


AugiiHits  ditd- 


Tohn     thf     Baj'tl-sf^ 

inii»i')>i. 
ChriU  hin>t!z,.,' 


John  ihf  Riptixl,  he-' 
/teudai.  ; 


^■JChri-'i  cniHfi.a I   .- 

16  I  i   •• 

•■I                        '  I  30 

Paul  conrerUd i    .. 


ConieUui  conveitLxl, 


P,riir.i   first   th'it   to; 


G3G 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology.  [October. 


^1 

.'     i 

„ 

S  i                  Succession  of  Patriarchs  ur 
•  I                                      Rul.rs. 

■r  ='  !                             Ccctemporarj-  Events. 

^3 

420G  -j 

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34 

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1 

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ib 



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;  ai  'tttrns                                                              ■'  •  ■ 

119" 

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4252 

10" 

.. 

50 

42l3 

j*- 

"sT 

;; 

:':::::::;:::::::.v;::::: 

Pa  I 

Pa, 
Pa, 

r«  return  through  Jerusalem  to  Aniioch 

.. 

1 

5-1 

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1 

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4227 

1 

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2 

1 

;/  to  Po.xe 

LI 

1856.] 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


637 


acceseun  of  Patriarchs  or  Rulera. 


Cont^mpomry  Ev«at5, 


Paul  rtli'astd. 


Paul  martyred. 


Otuo. 

V'lTF.LLICS. 


I  Yrei'ASiAS 

■Jiruialeh\  destroyed. 


79 

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. 

SI 

1 

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i 

' 

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1 

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1^'' 

^'■ahfps- 

97 

T 

^ 

638 


Table  of  Biblical  Chronology. 


[October, 


."1                          l« 

S  i                 Succession  of  P.Mtiardu  cr               !  ';  = 

4            ''"'"'•           i;.^^ 

ii 

ConUmiK,ranr  Events.                           i®.! 

4-170 

1 

1 
\ 

.. 

~3~ 

0-- 

42T2 

1 ' '1 

1    ( About  this  time  the  Keio  T-:xta--\    f 
U     M^'H^   w(i<-«  don'-.d  with  ihA\ 
\{     GospdqfJohn.                           J   [ 

JEWISH   CALENDAR, 

WITH    THK    WEATIIEi:    AND    i'lUXCIPAL    PRODUCTIOXS    OF    EACU    MONTH 
IX  PALKSTI^'E. 

Xi->TE. — E:icli  day  l>e?iii<:  uith  the  preoerlinp:  siinfet.  The  feast  ami  fast  days  are 
tho^.'  l.ii.l  (losiri  iu  Jf.vi-h  autlmritios.  The  climate  ami  state  of  veg-L-tation  iire  com- 
pileil  I'roni  the  trc  ati-e  of  .1.  (J.  I'.i'.Iilo,  and  the  ac'.juslnieut  of  the  Jt-wl^h  to  tlie  Julian 
months  is  aoLMr.liM.;;  t,)  the  sti.'g.-sti'jn  of  J.  D.  Mii.-haelis  ;  Loth  tlie  last-named  tracts 
being  imblished  in  I.atiii,  liy  the  lioyal  Society  of  Gottiuircn. 

NISAX. 

First  gn^f-d,  srrnith  cfriV  mouth  ;  ">0  dnij-!),  lrijinitii\ri  trith  the  first  netr  moon  al'trr  the  ver- 
nal equirio.r;  cnrrf<jj'»tiliii;;,  in  ffrnrnd,  uith  APKII., //•<>»(  tchich  it  never  varied  wore  than 
to  iiieiui-  the  liiif  t'ud-t>i-  >,/ Ji'.mh,  or  the  first  ten  of  :!iUnj. 

1.  New  moon.     Fast  for  (hath  of  Aaron's  sous. 
10.  Fast  for  ?tliriain's  death  ;  al.-o  for  droii','ht  in  the  wilderness.    Passover  lamb  selected. 
14.  Pas.-ovfr  limb  slain.     I.taveii  put  away. 
1.').  Pa-5nvtr  d.iv.  and  first  of  luiI.  aveucd  bread.    A  day  of  rest. 
IC.  First-fruits  "of  liarvest  otlrr.  d. 
21.  Octave  of  Pa^s  .v^r.  and  ia-t  of  unleavened  bread. 
2(5.  Fast  f.  r  Joshua's  death. 
30.  Alternate  of  neiv  nio.'U. 

Last  of  winter  rains;  tempi ratiir.'  in  most  parts  mild.  Grain  begins  to  ripen;  ai- 
nioiids  and  oranjes  ripe.     <Jra,-;  \ery  luxuriant. 

JL\Il. 

Second  inereJ,  fi'jhih  eirll  w.nih  ;  29  dniix.  h-rjinni,ifj  with  the  aeeond  new  moon  after  the 
vernal  equinnj-;  C'>rrt'fj»'r.li  in  (furrrd  to  May. 

1.  N\u-  m...ni. 

13.  Fast  for  excesses  durin,-  1  as<;.)ver. 

7.  Rc-dedicatiou  of  temple  by  Asnioneans. 

10.  Fast  f)rKH's  death. 

14.  Alf.-rnite  of  Pa^sov  r. 

'23.  Feast  for  capture  ofGazi,  or  for  recovery  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Maccabees. 

27.  Feast  fur  expulsion  of  Galileans  from  Temple. 

2S.  Fast  for  Samuel's  death. 

"Warmth  general,  with  west  wimls.  Harvest  ends;  mandrakes  ripe;  last  of  garden 
ve'^etables  sown.     Grass  at  its  hoivht. 


SIVAX. 

Third  tncrcd,  ninth  civil  n\'.nih  ;  "0  d.iin.  b-./inninrj  vith  the  third  neic  moon  after  the  ver- 
nal cquinoj::  ijencralhi  correnjj-md^  n-nrlj  to  Jl.VE. 

1.  New  moi)n. 

C.  IVuteeO:,t. 
15,  I17.  Feast  for  victory  ovor  Pethshar. 
17.  Feast  for  capture  of  Cajarea. 


1850.]  Table  of  Biblical  Chronology.  639 

22.  Fast  for  Jeroboam's  religious  schism. 
25.  Fast  for  dtath  of  soveraf  Rabbis. 
27.  Fast  for  niartyrdoni  of  liabbi  Chanina. 
30.  i\it<;rnate  of  new  nioou. 

Clear  and  hot,  with  west  wind  in  the  afternoon.  Kioo,  early  figs  and  apples,  plums, 
cherrits,  mulLcrrics,  and  mt'lons  rip.;.     Grass  bet^'ins  to  fail. 

TH.oniuz. 

Fourth  sacred,  tenth  r'nU  month  ;  29  dai/i.  hrrpnninj  with  the  fourth  new  inooii  after  the  ver- 
nal equinox;  nearly  corrct^iondi  in  general  to  Jci.T. 

1.  Xcw  moou. 
li.  Feast  for  suppression  of  certain  heretical  books. 
17.  Fast  for  breaking  the  tables  of  the  Law. 

Heat  intense;  no  rain;  occasional  west  winds.  Dates,  apples,  pears,  and  peaches 
ripen;  grapes  nearly  mature.    Grass  scarce. 

AB. 

Fifth  sacred,  eleventh,  civil  jnnnfh  ;  30  dai/s,  from  the  jijtn  new  moon  after  the  rental  equi' 
nox ;  con-e^'jjonds  ruoitlij  to  AUGUST. 

1.  New  moon. 

5.  Commemoration  of  the  children  of  one  Jethuel. 
9.  Fast  for  sentence  of  wandering?  in  the  desert. 
IS.  Fast  for  extiuctim  of  lamp  in'tlie  time  of  Ahaz. 

21.  Xyli.plioria,  or  feast  of  storing  wood  for  Temple. 
2i.  Feast  for  abolition  of  certain  offensive  laws. 

30.  Alternate  of  new  moon. 

Heat  still-extreme  :  clear  till  near  end  of  the  month.  Fiijs,  olives,  and  nomcjranates 
begin  to  ripen;  winter  Iv^  blossoms;  tirst  clusters  of  the  vine  gathered,     is'o  grass. 

ELUIi. 

Sixth  sacred,  ttrrlfth  civil  i.ion'h  ;  20  dn>/>,  from  the  sixth  new  moon  after  the  vernal  eqninox ; 
corresjjondu  mo-stli/  to  SErrEMiiEi;. 

1.  New  moon. 

7.  Dedication  of  walls  by  Nohemiah. 
17.  Fast  for  death  of  spies. 

22.  Feast  for  condemnation  of  certain  Jens. 

Days  hot,  nights  cold ;  clcu<ly,  with  west  wind ;  rain  at  the  close  of  the  month,  wlien 
ploughing  begins.  Dates,  puni.egranatos.  pears,  plums,  citrons,  orangts,  cotton,  and  sec- 
ond clusters  of  the  vine  gathered.     Pasture  still  very  scarce. 

^  Tmii. 

Sevr-uth  nacred,  first  civil  month  ;  30  days,  from  the  seventh  neic  moon  after  the  vernd  equi- 
nox; corresponds  in  the  main  to  Octouee:. 
1.  Newmonn.     Fea^t  of  Trumpets  for  new  vear. 
3.  Fa>t  f.r  death  of  GedVu.ih. 

5.  IXath  of  f.veuty  Isr.-.elites. 

7.  Fast  for  sin  of  the  golden  calf. 

10.  Fast  of  expiation. 

1,-..  F.-ast  of  T.ib.rna.-les. 

21.  Ct renionv  of  branclus  at  the  feast. 

22.  Octave  of  Feast  of  Tabernacles. 

23.  Commemoration  of  giving  of  the  law. 
SO.  Alternate  of  new  moon. 

Heat  abated,  cspeciallv  during  the  night,  when  white  frost  is  frcqnenf ;  rainy  season 
begins;  winds  variable.  "S)s\iugof  grain  and  se-etables  be-ins;  [.i-tachio,  Int.-  olive<. 
«omfi.-ranares,  and  third  clusters  of  the  vine  ripe  ;  al^o,  giirdeii  salads  anl  routs.  Gr.iss 
but  little  revived. 

3IARCHE.SVAN. 

Eighth  tarred,   secmi''.  riril  wnnth  :  29  daijs.  from  the  eighth  new  moou  after  the   vernal 
eqiiinojc  ;  cejrrexjjon  l^  in  the  ni'iiu  to  NovEMBElt. 

1.  New^  moon. 

6,  7.  Fast  for  blin.liug  of  Zedekiah. 


640  Tahle  of  Biblical  Cltronology.  [October, 

19.  Fast  of  three  days  for  faults  in  Feast  of  Tabernacles. 

23.  Commemoration"  of  ci.Ttuin  jirofaned  altar-stones. 

2G.  Feast  for  recovery  of  certain  places  from  the  Cuthites. 

Intervals  of  Lot  sunshine  during'  the  day,  nijhts  cold;  rain  falls  copiously;  wind 
from  the  north.     Tree.<;  hegiu  to  lose  their  leaves  :  general  sowing  of  grain;  last  dates 

gaclurtd.     Grass  begins  to  sprout. 

KISLEU. 

Ninth  scicfsd,  third  cicil  month;  GO  days,  j'mn  the  ninth  n<^w  moon  after  the  venal  equi- 
v.o.r  ;  usunllij  currcupondt,  for  the  lurrjer  i^art,  to  DeceMBEP.. 

1.  New  moon. 

?>.  Fea^t  for  expulsion  of  idolatry  from  temple. 

6.  Fast  for  biiruinsr  Jeremiah's  roll. 

7.  Feast  for  Iltrod's  deith. 

21.  Feast  for  triumph  over  Samaritans. 

24.  Prayers  for  rain. 

2-").  Fe;!st  of  dedication  of  temple  by  Maccabees. 
SO.  Alternate  of  new  moon. 

Cold  quite  sharp,  even  in  the  d.'iytime;  raiu,  occasionally  snow ;  east  or  north  winds. 
Pulse  and  late  grain  sown.    Pasture  begins  to  be  abundant. 

TEBETH. 

TchOi  sacred,  fourth  cicil  mouth  ;  29  days,  from  the  tenth  new  moon  after  the  icnm! eqiiino^z  ; 
vsualiij  corrcspoiuh,  for  the  larrjcr  part,  to  J.\NUAKT. 

1.  New  moon. 

S.  Fast  for  making;  the  Soptuagint. 

9.  Fast  for  unknown  cause. 

10.  Fa^t  for  siege  of  Jerusalem  by  Nebuchadnezzar. 
28.  Feast  for  e.vclusion  of  Sadduceos  from  Sanhedrim. 

Cold  severe,  especially  in  elevated  regions  ;  west  winds  bring  heavy  rain":,  p.->.rticnlr»r!y 
duviug  tlie  ni_:ht.  uhieh  swell  the  streams;  occasionally  hot  sunshine  in  tlie  I.iCi  r  [art 
of  the  month.  SiTiiig  grain  and  early  ^egetahlts  sown:  trees  in  leaf;  aljiitiid  .itul 
early  flowers  blossom  ;  winter  fig'  often  foiuid  on  the  naked  trees.  Gras,  abumJ  j:it. 
but  sliort. 

SHEBKT. 
Eleventh  sacred,  fjfh  ciri^  month  ;  30  days,  from  the  eleventh   new    moon  after  the   rrnml 

equinox  ;  com^peindi  ahoiit  to  Febkuaky,  in  intercalary  years  a  Jurlnijht  later. 

1 .  New  moon. 

2.  Feast  for  death  of  .Alexander  Jannreus. 

4,  or  .5.  Fast  for  death  of  thlrs  who  sur\iveil  Joshua. 

1-5.  Date  from  which  the  first  four  years  of  trees'  uncleanness  are  reckoned. 

22.  Feast  for  deatli  of  a  certain  profane  Niskalenus. 

23.  Fast  for  civil  war  with  Benjamin. 

20.  Feast  for  death  of  Antiochus  Epiphaues. 
30.  .\lleruate  of  new  moon. 

V.'euther  .-liiivllar  to  List  montii,  but  more  variable.  Grain  still  oec.isionally  s  'un,  l;ut 
generally  in  full  ^reen ;  n.  few  early  vegetables  fit  for  eating;  appks,  peaches,  and 
many  flowers  in  blossom.    Grass  yet  not  very  luxuriant. 

ADAB. 

Ticelfth  sacred,   sixth  civil  vwnth  ;   29  dayn,  from  the  ticelfth   nctc  mocii  after  the  rental 
e'piiuox;  corrcxpouds  ahcut  to  Map.CH,  in  intercalary  years  a  fortnight  later. 

1.  New  moon. 

7.  Fast  for  death  of  Moses. 

5,  U.  Trumpet  sounded  for  rain. 

0.  F.i.t  for  .-clii^iu  botuoLU  .Sbammai  and  Ilillel. 

12.  Feast  in  honour  of  t\\o  proselvto  martyrs. 

13.  Fea^t  of  E-sther. 

14.  First  Puriin,  or  lesser  feast  of  lots. 
!.'>.  Great  feast  of  Purini. 

17.  t^oramemovatiou  oi  dt-livtram  e  of  certain  Jewish  sages. 
20.  Feast  for  a  rain  undor  Januucus. 


1856.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  641 

23.  Dedication  of  temple  by  ZeruLbabel. 

!'■">.  Collection  of  ajrcars  of  taxes  in  temple. 

28.  Feast  for  abolition  of  certain  intolerant  edicts. 

Weather  in  general  moderate,  but  fickle;  rain,  heat,  and  wind,  alternately,  streams 
overflow.  Vegetables  sown,  others  gathered;  tender  trees  in  leaf;  fruit-trees  generally 
in  blossom  ;  vines  pruned.     Pasture  rich. 

VE-ABAK. 

In  orJer  to  conform  the  lunar  to  the  true  year,  the  month  Apau  is  occasionally  re- 
peated, \v)th  all  its  fasts  and  feasts,  -when  another  new  moon  intervenes  befure  tlie  -ver- 
n:il  e^iuinor;  in  such  eases,  this  thirt-jenth  m.^nth  corresponds  to  iibout  the  latter  part 
of  March,  and  the  former  part  of  April,  and  the  weather  and  productions  are  intermedi- 
ate between  those  of  the  adjacent  mouths. 


Art.  Vm.— short  KEVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  BOOKS. 

It  is  of  greatest  concernment  in  the  Church  and  Commonwealth  to  have  a  vigilant 
eye  how  books  demean  themselves  as  well  as  men,  and  thereafter  to  confine, 
imprison,  and  do  sharpest  justice  on  them  as  malefactors  :  for  books  are  not  abso- 
lutely dead  tilings,  but  do  contain  a  ]'0tency  of  life  in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that 
soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are. — Mu.iox. 

(1.)  "  Hislonj  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  revised  and  brought  down  to 
the  present  time,  by  W.  P.  SxracKLAXD,  D.  D.,  with  an  Introduction  by  Ecv. 
N.  L.  Rici:,  D.  D."  (Harper  &  Brothers,  1 8-56  ;  8vo.,  pp.  GOG.)  A  noble  book, 
written  upou  ti'.i-  lool-  ofbools.  Its  author,  Dr.  Strickland,  the  present  Assist- 
ant Editor  of  tlie  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal,  was  for  several  years  an 
agent  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  and  is  well  qualified  by  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  to  be  the  standard  historiographer  of  that  great  and 
beneficent  organization.  The  present  is  a  new  edition  with  Improvcnients  and 
additions.  It  goes  forth  under  the  irnprima'ur  of  the  secretaries  of  the  society, 
Doctors  Brighan\  and  Iloldich.  It  embodies  an  immense  amount  of  intormation 
in  regard  to  the  formation  of  the  Bible  Society,  and  its  vast  agencies  and  suc- 
cesses in  distributing  the  word  of  God  in  prisons,  on  shipboard,  in  the  army 
and  navy,  in  Sunday  schools,  and  families,  among  our  Indians,  and  on  our  Pa- 
cific coasts.  Next  he  enumerates  the  translations,  and  traces  the  distributiou 
of  the  Bible  over  the  continents  and  th^  islands,  through  the  empires  and  popu- 
lations of  the  earth.  How  cheering  a  world  of  thought  does  this  magnificent 
book  spread  out  before  us  ! 


(2.)  "  Ilelir/ion  ill  ^Imcrica,  by  Hodkrt  Baird."  (Harper  &  Brothers, 
ISoG  ;  Svo.,  pp.  G9G.)  This  is  a  fresh  edition  of  Dr.  Baird's  work,  brought  down 
to  the  present  time.  It  was  first  written  in  Switzerland,  in  1842,  at  the  re- 
quest of  European  friends,  who  were  puzzled  to  understand  the  jieculiarities 
of  our  American  Christianity.  It  was  extensively  circulated  in  varioi:s  lan- 
guages over  the  ditVcrent  countries  of  Europe,  and  it  was  an  after-thought  which 
produced  the  American  republication. 

It  was  a  deliglitful  work  for  Dr.  Bainl,  to  trace  for  a  new  edition  the  vast 
growth  and  cxtcn.-ion  of  our  religious  systems  and  organizations  during  the  period 


642  Short  Revieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.         [October, 

intei-vening  between  the  first  publication  in  181-1,  and  this  present  1  8jG.  Vs'liat 
annexations  and  expansions  of  oui"  country,  ■\vhat  growth  and  development  of 
our  religious  operations  I 

The  transparent  simplicity  of  his  style  and  the  catholic  spirit  of  his  mind 
render  these  pages  very  deli:ihtuil  reading.  Our  past  religious  history,  our 
present  religious  status,  and  the  cheering  prospects  for  the  future,  are  traced 
in  a  generous  spirit  and  with  a  master  hand.  The  work  is  a  desirable  addiuon 
to  every  Christian's  library. 


(3.)  "  The  Imiiatlon  of  Christ,  by  Thomas  a  Kkmpis.  Rendered  into  En- 
glish from  the  original  Latin,  by  Joiuv  Payxe.  With  an  Introductory  Essay, 
by  TiiOMAS  Chalmers,  D.  D.,  edited  by  Howard  ^Maixom,  1).  D.,  Presi- 
dent of  Lewisbury  University,  Pa.  A  new  improved  edition,  Avith  a  life  of  the 
author,  by  C.  Ullmaxx,  D.  D."  (Gould  &  Lincoln;  Boston,  185G  ;  Timo..  pp. 
283.)  This  little  volume  was  written  by  a  Romanist,  translated  by  a  Church 
of  England  man,  furnished  with  a  biograj)hy  by  a  Lutheran,  })refi\ccd  with  an 
intJ-oduction  by  a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  edited  by  an  American  P>aptist,  and  is 
now  being  noticed  by  a  ^lethodist.  Truly  there  is  a  unity  of  the  Church  of 
Christ,  and  that  unity  consists  not  in  an  organism  or  a  locality.  ]t  is  the  unity 
founded  upon  the  Rock,  consisting  in  a  oneness  of  spirit,  and  evidenced  by  an 
effort  after  a  practical  "  Imitation  of  Christ." 

He  may  believe  himself  to  be  iu  the  Church  catholic  to  whom  Thomas  of 
Kcmj)cn  is  delightful  reading.  Severe  as  is  his  piety,  it  is  sweet  and  clicerful. 
Few  authors  so  bring  us  directly  to  the  place  of  s])iritual  repose,  enabling  us 
to  understand-how  to  enjoy  a  gieat  calm  even  in  the  midst  of  a  great  storm. 
The  work  as  it  came  from  his  hand  had  to  be  divested  of  some  of  the  ad>'!ti- 
tious  peculiarities  of  the  Romish  system,  which  encumbered  without  radically 
corrupting  its  substance ;  and  so  divested,  it  is  suited  to  be  for  ages  to  coidc. 
as  for  ages  past,  one  of  the  standard  universal  manuals  of  piety.  The  introJiic- 
tion  of  Chalmers,  and  the  biography  and  critique  by  Ullmann,  arc  invaluable 
accompaniments. 

(4.)  ^^  Elements  of  Moral  Fhilosophy,  analytical,  si/tUhetical,  and  practical,  by 
Hubbard  WixsLOW,  author  of  Intellectual  Philosophy."  (Appleton  \  Co.. 
jS"ew-York,  1  S.3G  ;  1  i'mo..  pp.  480.)  This  aims  to  lie  a  complete  and  syst.i;i;uic 
summary  of  Moral  Philosophy,  suitable  for  collegiate  classes  ;  and  for  such  j)ur- 
poses  it  seems  to  be  adapted.  It  is  clear  in  its  style  ;  analytical,  but  not  ultra 
metaphysical ;  and  seeks  to  bring  its  analysis  into  practical  ainl  useful  results. 

It  is  divided  into  five  parts  ;  of  which  the  first  three  are  analytical,  the  fourth 
synthetical,  and  the  last  practical.  In  the  first  two  parts,  he  analyzes  the  Mo- 
tive Forcers,  or  active  })rinci]>les  within  us,  dividing  them  into  Natural  and 
Rational.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  perverted  use  of  the  word  nainyJ,  as 
opposed  to  ra'ional,  or  even  to  moral,  should  be  perpetuated  in  philo.-oply. 
Are  not  our  rational  faculties  natural  ?  Our  ro^(/rrt/ motive  powers,  according 
to  ^Ir.  Winslow,  are  appetitr,s,  afcctions,  desires,  einolions,  and  rolili'ms.  1  "• 
Utions  natural,  we  may  add,  he  distinguishes  from  rational  vtililicns.  He  <.i-- 
tinguislics  also  between  voluntary,  stmivoluntary,  and  invuluntary  inoveitunts. 


185G.]  Short  Revieivs  and  Notices  of  Books.  643 

Passing,  in  pari  second,  to  the  Kutional  ^Motive  Powers,  he  specifies  Conscience, 
I'aste,  and  Rational  Will.  Conscience,  ineludinu  tlio  power  of  perception,  is 
man's  suscepLibilify  of  moral  dislinciions.  It  Las  t/irec  functions,  the  first  pro- 
spective or  the  our/ht  emotion,  and  two  retrospQctWc  of  aj>procnl  ov  lUsapproi-al. 
Taste  is  an  auxiliary  to  conscience  ;  both  taste  and  conscience  should  unite,  ia 
human  character,  one  leading  us  to  the  locehj,  and  the  other  to  the  right.  In 
regard  to  the  WllL  ^Ir.  "Winslow  is  anti-necessitarian.  He  amply  recognises 
what  Xece:sitariani=m  is  obliged  to  ignore^ — the  irri  .<pon:<ibiHt>j  of  action  under 
the  laic  of  uniform  and  absolute  causation,  and  the  necessity  of  an  allcrnutice 
pou-cr  in  the  human  will  in  order  to  moral  desert.  In  the  third  part,  our 
author  analyzes  the  moral  quality  of  all  the  previously  enumerated  motire  pout- 
ers. Our  affections,  desires,  and  emotions,  are  divided  into  riglt  or  tcrong 
and  the  tests  of  rig?itness  and  wrongness  in  each  arc  assigned.  Under  the 
Will,  the  author  ilecides  that  there  is  a  moral  certainli/  which  is  not  rwcessitg ; 
and  a  volition  which  is  morally  certain,  is  responsible,  just  because  that  though 
certain  it  is  unncccssitated.  He  decides  that  neither  the  will  nor  the  other 
faculties  are  the  man  himself,  the  Ego,  but  attributes  of  the  Ego.  No  degree 
of  excitement  exonerates  from  responsibility.  lie  last,  under  part  t/iird,  dis- 
cusses the  source  of  the  morality/  of  actions.  They  are,  he  says,  mo^tly  reduced  to 
three  :  that  which  places  the  source  in  the  affections  and  desires ;  that  which 
places  it  in  the  will  ;  and  that  which  makes  man  a  machine,  lender  this  last 
school,  he  ineludcs  "  Spinoza,  Sicedenhorg,  and  others  of  the  Pantheistic  and 
the  Necessitarian  school."  "With  what  fairness  docs  'Mr.  Winslow  class  .Sweden- 
borg  with  Paiitheists  and  Xeccssitarians  ?  AVhatever  other  erroi'S  Swedcn- 
borg  maintained,  ho  is  no  Eatalist.  !Mr.  Winslow  need  not  have  travelell  out 
of  the  bounds  of  New-England  Calvinism  to  have  found  Fatalist.';  much 
■worthier  than  Swedenborg  to  be  ranked  with  Spinoza.  "We  reconmiend  him 
to  substitute  Edwards,  Hopkins,  and  Emmons.  i\lr.  "Winslow  deeides  that 
the  source  of  morality  of  actions  lies  in  all  the  mind — in  the  general  disposition 
of  all  the  motive  powers.  Hence,  in  regeneration,  the  whole  man  is  renovated. 
Ia  the  fourth  part,  'Mr.  Winslow  takes  up  the  Law  or  Ibundatiou  of  floral  Ob- 
ligation. He  discusses  four  theories,  which  he  calls  the  Arbitrary,  the  Great- 
est Happiness,  the  Highest  Good,  and  the  Subjective  Theories.  To  all  these 
he  attribute;  partial  truth,  but  condemns  them  all  in  general.  Ilis  theory  is, 
that  there  i<  no  unit  to  which  all  right  is  reducible.  His  may  lie  pionnunccd 
a  Variety  Theory,  and  is  perhaps  the  least  logical  of  either.  This  is  by  no  means 
a  well-managed  or  satisfactory  chapter.  In  the  fifth  part,  !^^r.  AVinslow  dis- 
cusses the  practical  duties  of  life  in  the  light  of  his  previous  moral  theory.  Per- 
haps it  is  too  brief  for  symmetry,  or  for  the  best  practical  value  of  a  manual  of 
moral  philoso[)hy. 

Mr.  Winsldw's  work  is  entitled  to  take  a  high  rank  among  our  American 
manuals  of  florals.  It  is  particularly  emphatie  in  developing  the  relations  of 
moral  responsibility  to  the  tree  nature  of  the  Agent.  In  this,  there  is  a  uiai'ked 
superiority  to  "\A'ayland.  There  is  also  much  less  dryne.-s  of  style,  and  a  far 
richer,  freer,  and  more  lucid  discussion  of  his  topics.  He  has  miieh  of  the  style 
and  spirit  of  the  Fiench  mctaphyi-ical  writers,  to  whom  ho  attrit'Mtes  ijuite  as 
much  credit  lor  precision  as  is  their  due.     Occasionally  he  reminds  us  of  the 


■J. 


644  Sfioit  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.         [October, 

exuberance  of  H.  P.  Tappan,  though  never  diverging  into  quite  the  dI(lu5C 
and  random  looseness,  which  so  often  overspreads  the  pages  of  that  writer. 


(5.)  '*  The  Sacred  Hour,  by  !Maxwf.ll  P.  Caddis,  author  of  '  Footsteps  of 
an  Itinerant.'"  (ilethodist  Book  Concern,  Cincinnati,  Oliio,  iSr^G  ;  lOmo., 
pp.  .364.)  It  is  generally  a  defective  title  of  a  book  Avhich  does  not  of  itsell" 
give  a  ^'key"  to  the  subject.  Two  Christian  ladies,  attracted  by  Christian  sym- 
pathy to  each  other,  coAenant  together  as  mutual  assistants  in  the  solemn  and 
delightful  work  of  attaining  j^ersonal  holiness  of  heart  and  life.  A  rcnilar 
spiritual  correspondence  by  letter,  a  concerted  sacred  hour  of  simultaneous 
prayer,  a  systematic  devotional  study,  daily,  of  the  same  portion  of  Scripture, 
the  appropriation  of  Fridays  to  special  tasting  and  devotion,  and  the  commit- 
ting to  memory  each  day  one  Scripture  passage  as  a  motto  for  the  spiritual  life 
of  the  day,  were  the  ai'ticles  of  their  holy  covenant.  The  correspondence  and 
the  resulting  Christian  experience,  terminating  In  the  translation  through  the 
gates  of  death  to  a  better  world  of  one  of  the  ladies,  form  the  substance  of  the 
work. 

Surely  holiness  is  the  '•  Central  idea  of  C'hristianity."  It  is  the  end  for  which 
the  Church  e.\ists  and  the  Christian  should  live.  Every  Christian  sliould  avail 
himself  of  those  means  which  he  feels  to  be  suited  to  his  peculiar  make,  to  attain 
this  high  blessing.  There  are  doubtless  thousands  in  our  Church  to  whose 
hearts  this  little  book  would  prove  a  special  benefit. 


(6.)  "  The  Old  Chest  and  its  Treasures,  by  Aunt  Elizabeth."  (:M.  W. 
Dodd,  Xew-York,  1S5G  ;  16mo.,  pp.  30i.)  Aunt  Elizabeth  had  a  desire  in 
some  way  to  achieve  some  good  ;  she  concluded  to  accomplish  it  by  making  a 
book  ;  she  went  up  stairs,  and  abstracted  from  the  trash  of  the  '•  old  r/ir^i"  all 
the  good  readable  items ;  these  she  sent  to  Mr.  Dodd,  who  printed  them,  and  so 
was  made  this  book.  We  think  it  will  do  no  damage,  and  hope  it  will  do  some 
good.  The  titles  of  some  of  the  items  are,  "  Texts  in  a  Mirror,"  '•  The  Last 
Judgment,"  "  Mr.  Wesley's  Humility,"  "  WhItefield's  Eloquence,"  &c. 


(7.)  "  ITfnry  Lyman,  the  Marly r  of  SmDatni."  (PuVocrt  Carter  &  Rrothors, 
185G  ;  ]-2aio.,  pp.  437.)  This  is  a  memoir,  rather  late  in  Its  appearance,  of  a 
young  American  missionary,  who,  In  the  year  1634,  fell  in  a  massacre  perpe- 
trated by  the  natives  in  the  Island  of  Sumatra.  The  narrative  is  pleasingly 
written,  interspersed  with  interesting  correspondences,  and  abounding  with 
picturesque  descriptions  and  touching  experiences.  It  is  well  calculated  to 
awaken  the  missionary  spirit. 


(S.)  "/-'/(,'  and  AdvejJures  of  James  P.  Bcchwourth,  Mowitainecr.  Scout,  and 
Pioneer,  and  Chief  of  the  Crow  Xalion  of  Indians.  With  illustrations,  written 
from  his  own  dictation,  by  T.  I).  P,onni:r."  (Harper  &  Brothers,  18^.0  ;  1 2mo., 
pp.  537.)  A  talc  of  wild  Western  romance,  brimful  of  adventures  for  the  lovers 
of  adventure.     Indeed,  from  several  of  its  statements,  wc  are  led  to  suppose  that 


1856.]  Short  Revietus  a?id  Notices  of  Books.  '  G45 

JVIr.  Beckwourth  is  not  only  an  extraordinary,  but  the  most  extraordinary  of  ad- 
venturers. INIr.  Bonner  crivcs  us  not  only  the  best  nf  l]ic  season,  but  the  best 
of  all  seasons.  We  learn,  for  instance,  on  page  fifth,  -who  has  met  vrith  the 
most  personal  adventure  of  any  man  that  ever  lived  ;  it  is  Mr.  Bcckv/ourth.  "SVc 
also  learn,  on  page  514,  who  of  all  men  has  recovered  t'roiu  the  most  wounds. 
It  is  not  Mr.  Beckwourth,  but  one  of  his  heroes.  From  an  Indian  of  superior 
intelligence  among  his  companions,  Mr.  Beckwourth  derived  the  following  gem 
of  diluvian  tradition  :  "  Occasionally  he  would  tell  ir.e  of  the  traditions  hindcd 
down  from  generation  to  generation  in  the  Indian  race,  in  which  he  was  '  ele- 
gantly learned.'  He  told  nie  of  the  mighty  tribes  of  men  who  had  once  in- 
habited this  vast  continent,  but  were  now  exterminated  by  internecine  wars ; 
that  their  fathers  had  told  them  of  a  great  flood,  which  had  covered  all  the 
land,  except  the  highest  peaks  of  the  mountains,  where  some  of  the  inhabitants 
and  the  bulfaloes  resorted,  and  saved  themselves  from  destruction." 


(9.)  "  The  Camel,  his  Organizatiori,  Habits,  and  Uses,  considered  tcith  refer- 
ence to  his  Introduction  into  the  United  States,  by  Georgk  P.  Maiish."  (Gould 
&  Lincoln,  Boston,  185G;  r2mo.,  pp.  224.)  Government  Ins  determined  to 
introduce  the  camel  into  the  country,  and  Mr.  ^Marsh  here  kindly  offers  to  in- 
troduce us  to  the  camel.  We  have  not  been  able  to  give  the  book  a  thorough 
examination ;  but  wc  have  a  favorable  opinion  of  the  camel  as  an  ancient,  re- 
spectable, honest,  and  very  patient  animal,  and  wish  him  a  favorable  and 
comfortable  reception  into  our  country,  and  plenty  of  useful  em])loynu-nt.  As 
for  Mr.  Marsh,  he  is  one  of  the  most  accomplished  scholars  of  our  country,  and 
■whatever  he  attempts  we  may  safely  endorse  as  being  done  in  about  the  best 
snpposable  manner.  This  work  is  no  doubt  a  valuable  manual  for  any  one  in- 
terested in  the  subject. 


(10.)  "  The  Recent  Progress  of  Astronomy,  especialhj  in  the  United  States,  by 
Elias  Loomis,  L.L.D.,  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  University  of  New- 
York.  (Harper  &  Brothers,  185G  ;  pp.  396.)  We  take  it  kindly  of  Professor 
Loomis.  We  are  ever  and  anon  learning  from  the  newspapers  that  our  as- 
tronomic friends  are  doing  a  good  business  in  their  line,  cornering  up  fresh 
planets  and  planetoids,  and  catching  new  comets  by  tli(!  tail.  15ut  we  out- 
siders greatly  need  po.-ting  up.  This  has  been  done  v.illi  great  clearness  and 
compactness  in  the  present  little  volume.  The  following  paragraph  from  the 
preface  states  very  concisely  much  of  what  has  lately  been  done  in  astronomic 
discovery  : 

"The  progress  of  astronomical  discovery  was  never  more  ra])id  than  during 
the  last  fifteen  yeurs.  Within  this  period,  the  number  of  known  members  of  the 
planetary  system  has  been  more  than  doubled.  A  planet  of  vast  (iiincnsions  has 
been  added  to  our  system  ;  thirty-six  new  asteroiiis  have  been  discovered  ;  four 
new  satellites  have  been  detected  ;  and  a  now  rlncr  has  hovu  added  to  Saturn. 

'■  It  is  especially  gratifying  to  note  the  progress  which  the  last  few  j'cars  have 
witnessed  in  the  United  States,  both  in  the  facilities  fur  obsirvation,  and  in  the 
number  of  active  observers.  It  is  but  twenty-five  yours  .since  the  first  telescope, 
exceeding  those  of  a  p.)rtable  size,  was  imported  into  the  United  States  ;  and  the 
introduction  of  meridional  instruments  of  tiie  larger  class  is  of  still  more  recent 
date.     -S'ow  we  have  one  telescope  which  acknowledges  no  superior  ;  and  we  have 


646  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  [October, 

several  which  would  be  esteemed  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  finest  observatories  of 
ilurope.  We  have  also  numerous  nieriilioaal  instruments,  of  diniensions  adequate 
to  be  employed  in  orieinrtl  rc^uarch.  Our  cwn  artists  have  entered  successfully 
upon  the  manufacture  of  rofraotiug  tek'scopes  of  the  lareest  size,  and  have  re- 
ceived the  hi;j-hest  conimendatioii  from  some  of  the  best  judges  in  Europe.  These 
instrum^'Uts  Iiave  not  romuiiicd  wlioUy  nntmployed.  At  the  oV'servatories  of 
"Washington  and  CanilTiilge,  extensive  catalogues  of  stars  are  now  in  progress; 
while  lu-arly  every  known  member  of  our  solar  system  has  been  lopeatedly  and 
carefully  observed.  These  observations  are  all  permanently  recorded  by  a  sim- 
ple touch  of  the  finger  upon  a  key  which  closes  an  electric  circuit ;  a  method  re- 
cently introduced  at  Cuvcnwieh  Observatory,  and  known  everywhere  throughout 
Europe  by  the  distinctive  name  of  the  American  method." 

The  following  striking  paragraph  opens  the  work  : 

"  The  discovery  of  the  planet  Neptune  took  place  under  circumstances  most 
extraordinary.  Tlie  existence  of  tlie  planet  was  predicted,  its  path  in  the  heav- 
ens was  assigned,  its  mass  was  calculated,  from  considerations  purely  theoreti- 
cal. The  astronomer  was  told  where  to  direct  his  telescope,  and  he  would  see  a 
planet  hitherto  unobserved.  The  telescope  was  pointed,  and  there  the  planet 
was  found.  In  the  whole  history  of  astronomy  we  can  find  few  things  equally 
wonderfuh  This  discovery  resulted  from  the  study  of  the  motions  of  the  planet 
Uruuus." 


(11.)  "  D/srowr.'t'S  on  Sjecial  Occasion.'^  and  Jliscdlancniis  PajHrs,  by  C. 
Vax  Saxtfouho."  (M.  W.  Dodd,  185G;  12mo.,  pp.  456.)  These  discourses 
■were  given  in  the  ordinary  course  of  a  ministry  to  the  Reformed  Dutch 
Chiircdi  of  SaiTgortic-,  Xew-York.  There  are  discourses  of  John  Quincy 
Adams,  Hall,  and  Chalmers.  The  foimdation  of  the  Church,  English  Diction, 
Samuel  Johnson,  and  Daniel  A'N'cbster,  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  and  Colonization, 
&.C.  The  author  is  a  clear,  independent,  conser-vadvc  tliinker,  and  a  writer  of 
no  ordinary  ability. 


(12.)  ''Six  ^fonths  in  Kansas,  by  a  Lady."  (J.  P.  Jcwett,  Boston,  1856; 
12mo.,  pp.  231.)  The  narrative  of  an  eye-witness,  and  sharer  in  the  com- 
mencement of  that  train  of  events,  which  forms  the  strangest  pace  as  yet  of  our 
American  liistory.  How  little  five  years  ago  could  we  have  imagined  the  pos- 
sibility of  scenes  and  deeds  that  now  liave  become  bitter  reality  !  How  little 
•  can  we  imagine  what  the  same  determined  despotism,  unarrested,  will  accom- 
plish in  another  brief  lustrum  !  Let  every  free  citizen  read  testimonies  like 
this  little  voliune,  and  draw  up  his  own  solemn  decisions. 


•  (13.)  "  Western  Border  Life:  or,  what  Fanny  Hunter  saw  and  heard  in 
J^ansas  and  Mis.<ouri."     (Derby  &  Jackson,  119  Nassau-street,  New- York, 

1856;  12mo.,  pp.  408.)     Fanny  saw  and  heard  with  sharp  optics  and  acute 

•  cars,  and  describes  with  a  lively  pen.  A  long  residence  in  "Western  Missouri 
renders  her  fully  cognizant  of  the  scenes  she  depicts.  Her  professed  purjx)se 
is  to  j>resent  "the  grappling  of  despotism  and  democracy  for  the  mastery  upon 
a  vast  unoccupieil  territory,  whose  entire  history,  for  good  or  for  evil,  is  to  be 
shaped  by  the  issue." 

.(14.)  ''The  Captive  Y'ltith.-;  of  Judah,  n  Sfor/j  tdih -a  Moral,  hy  llev.  Ep.as- 
:MV5  Junes,  of  the  Tdack  Kivcr  Conference."     (Derby  &  Jackson,  119  Nas- 


1S56.]  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.  647 

snu-street,  New- York,  1856  ;  r2mo.,  pp.  4G5.)  A  Metliodlst  preacher  writing 
a  novel !  ^^Ir.  Jones,  by  his  Celtic  name,  and  an  ancient  English  couplet  by 
him  quoted,  bewrays  himself  as  a  son  of  Wales.  His  book  was  written  amid  the 
romantic  hills  of  Steuben  Circuit,  in  Oneida  County,  a  congenial  region  for  in- 
spiring a  "Welshman's  imagination.  It  is,  as  a  glance  over  its  pages  reveals  to 
us,  an  effort  to  realize  the  more  than  romantic  scenes  occurring  in  Babylon,  as 
suggestively  sketched  by  the  pen  of  Daniel;  with  an  evident  reference  on  the 
part  of  the  writer  to  the  events  of  the  present  day.  There  is  apparently  a 
genuine  purjiose  to  make  the  ancient  events  impressive  as  a  modern  lesson. 
The  author  has  no  little  pirjuaney  of  style  ;  but  how  far  the  work  is  suc- 
cessful as  a  whole,  those  who  are  curious  to  know  will  doubtless  purchase  and 
read,  and  spare  us  the  time  for  severer  and  perhaps  less  pleasant  engagements. 


(15.)  "  77/e  Heroes  of  Methodism,  containing  Sl'elches  of  Eminent  yieihodis-t 
Ministers,  arid  Characteristic  Anecdotes  of  their  Personal  History,  by  the  Ilev.  J. 
B.  Wakeley."  (Carlton  &  Phillips,  185G;  l-2mo.,  pp.470.)  There  be  heroes 
of  war  and  lierocs  of  peace,  and,  better  than  either,  heroes  of  the  Gospel  of  peace. 
Of  this  last  class  are  the  heroes  who  have  found  a  genial  delineator  in  Mr. 
Wakeley.  His  anecdotes  are  full  of  zest,  and  his  portraits  full  of  life.  I'erhaps 
some  will  say  tlie  author  has  not  been  sufiiciently  eclectic  ;  but  few  are  the  in- 
cidents which  do  not  illustrate  either  the  characters  or  their  times.  The  fresh- 
ness and  natural  variety  in  the  character  of  these  unnio<leled  men.  render 
their  portraiture  attractive  as  romance  to  readers  out  of  the  bounds  of  our 
Church,  as  several  of  the  eminent  names  attached  to  letters  addressed  to  the 
author  of  these  sketches  attest.  They  were  men  not  formed  by  rule  to  a  long- 
established  type,  but  a  fresh  formation  of  a  new  original  type.  "  Washinr/'cn 
and  his  generals"  were  Jiot  more  revolutionary  or  premonitory  of  a  new  liis- 
torical  era  than  Asbury  and  his  preachers.  Take  books  like  this,  and  [ilace  thi-ni 
in  the  hands  of  the  young  folks  at  home,  and  you  may  plant  within  their  hearts 
blessed  iu^.pressions  and  associations  that  may  aid  in  shaping  aright  their  future 
rerK^ious  life. 


(16.)  "  The  Life  and  Times  of  Ulric  Zwingle.  Translated  from  the  German 
of  J.  J.  HoTTi.NGER,  by  Eev.  Professor  T.  C.  Porter,  of  Franklin  and  Mar- 
shall College,"  Lancaster,  Pa.  (Theo.  F.  Slieffer,  Ilarrisbtirgh,  pp.  431 .)  A  v;il- 
uable  contribution  to  Protestant  religious  history.  The  author,  who  publi.-hcd 
his  Life  of  Zwingle  in  1842,  had  access  to  an  immense  mass  of  important  docu- 
ments Ions:  buried  in  the  archives  of  Canton. 


(17.)  '' Mrwoirs  of  Juhn  KiUo,  D.  D.,  F.  S.  A.,  compiled  chiefly  from  his 
hitters  and  journals,  by  J.  E.  Eylanu,  M.  A.  With  a  critical  estimate  of  Dr. 
Kitto's  Lite  and  Writings, by  Professor  Eadie."  (Carter  i<i  Brothers,  2  vols.) 
A  biography  of  extraordinary  interest.  Kitto  wa;;  born  in  the  most  abject  jiov- 
erty.  ISy  a  s  id  catastrophe  in  liis  eliildliood,  he  was  made  completely  deaf  tor 
life.  Yet  his  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge,  his  deep  love  of  books,  and  extra- 
ordinary intelligence,  won  him  sympathy  and  patronage.  Talent,  energy,  and 
industry,  enabled  him  to  raise  monuments  of  utility  to  the  world;  and  the  his- 


648  Shoi't  Jlevicics  and  Notices  of  Books.         [OctoLor, 

tory  of  his  life  is  a  le^^son  aiul  a  legacy  for  the  incitement  of  others  ia  tlicir 
struggles  amid  didiculties  ia  the  path  of  lionorable  usefulness. 

The  various  works  of  Biblical  Literature  furnished  to  the -world  by  Dr.  Kitto, 
are  standard  in  their  character.  Among  them  Ave  may  mention  '•  The  Pii- 
torial  Bible,"  ''  The  Pictorial  History  of  Palestine  and  the  Holy  Land."  ••  The 
Cycloptedia  of  Biblical  Literature,"  and  "  Daily  Bible  Illustrations."  He  was 
also  editor  of  the  Journal  of  Sacred  Literature.  Apart  ti'om  his  productions, 
the  literary  man  frequently  presents  a  life  devoid  of  interest  to  the  world,  and 
the  nature  of  Kitto's  pursuits  would  induce  many  to  impute  a  necessary  dry 
ness  to  Ids  character.  Great  is  that  mistake.  There  is  a  singularly  genial 
coloring  to  bis  character,  and  as  a  mere  biography,  a  storij,  these  volumes  pos- 
sess a  rare  fascination. 


(18.)  "  The  History  of  Wesleyan  Methodism  on  the  Congleton  Circuit,  inclwlinr/ 
Sk-ctches  of  Character,  Original  Letters,  §-c.,  by  Rev.  J.  B.  Dysok,"  (John  IMa- 
gon,6G  Paternoster  Bow,  London, 1856  ;  12mo.,pp.  186.)  This  little  volume  traces 
the  history  of  one  of  the  earliest  localities  of  English  Methodism  to  the  ].resent 
time.  Here  was  a  spontaneous  upspringing  of  Methodism  before  "Wesley  appeared 
upon  the  ground  ;  as  if  the  good  Spirit  at  this  time  was  pleased  to  pour  forth  his 
effusions  upon  various  chosen  localities  at  will.  First,  David  Taylor,  and  then 
John  Bennet,  preached  in  this  region,  and  the  locality  was  known  as  '•  John 
Bennct's  round"  until  it  was  organized  into  a  regular  circuit.  The  various  visits 
of  Mr.  Wesley  are  detailed  with  such  reminiscences  as  still  exist.  It  contains 
an  interesting  sketch  of  George  Shadford,  which  adds  a  valuable  item  to  the 
history  of  American  ^Methodism. 


(19.)  "  The  Aulobioffraphy  of  a  Blind  Jfinislcr,  including  Sketches  of  the  M'^n 
and  Events  oj  his  Time,  by  Timothy  Woodiuiidge,  D.  D."  (John  P.  Jewett 
&  Co.,  Boston,  1856.)  The  lithograph  which  accompanies  this  sketch  of  a 
good  man,  although  not  in  the  highest  style  of  the  art,  is  sufficiently  like  him  to 
rennnd  us  of  the  last  sight  we  had  of  the  "  blind  minister"  when  he  once  stood 
in  the  pulpit  of  the  old  Congregational  Church  in  Plttsfield,  :Mass.,  during  the 
e.xultant  e.xereises  of  the  jr.bllce  of  the  sons  of  Berkshire.  His  face  glowed 
with  the  fire  that  was  within  him,  while  enlarging  upon  the  interests  of  that 
mcmoral'le  gathering. 

Dr.  "Woodbridije  is  one  of  the  few  links  which  remain  to  connect,  the  historv' 
of  literary  men,  and  the  historical  and  ecclesiastical  deeds  of  the  past,  -rnth  the 
present,  and  right  well,  despite  the  groat  physical  disability  under  which  ho  has 
lalxiurcd,  does  he  represent  both  periods  of  our  history.  Descended  from  the 
best  Puritanic  blood,  and  born  and  educated  amid  the  most  important  and 
stirring  events  of  our  national  existence,  the  doctor's  own  account  of  himself  iu 
connection  with  these  interests  ought  to  give  tlils  book  a  wide  circulation,  es- 
pecially as  it  Is  written  in  a  style,  spirit,  and  witli  a  discrimination  worthy  o! 
the  man.     "We  connnend  it  to  all  classes  of  readers. 


(20.)  "PtVwan'.'?  Manual  of  Phonograplojr  "  The  Phonogri'phic  ^[ar;n:ine.'' 
"  27ic   Teacher,"  "  The  Phonographic  Pep'jrter,"  "  History  of  Short  If'ind." 


1S56.]  Short  RcL-ieirs  and  Notices  of  Books.  649 

(B.  Pitman,  Ciacinnuti.)  A  young  library,  as  -well  as  a  beautiful  and  a  grow- 
ing, for  the  American  plionognipher.  In  tlie  course  of  four  years,  the  singular 
genius,  taste,  and  energy  of  ^Ir.  Bonn  Pitman,  (brother  of  Isivic,  the  inventor,) 
have  placed  before  the  American  public  an  accumulation  of  Iwoks.  \vhich,  by 
their  rare  beauty  of  external  execution,  and  the  signal  value  of  tlieir  contents, 
will  sooner  or  later,  we  trust,  win  the  attention,  adnnrution,  and  gratituile  of 
the  American  people. 

Phonography  is  a  perfected  short-baud,  whicli  being  written  v,  ilh  nearly  the 
rapidity  of  oidlnary  utterance,  possesses  the  highest  beauty  of  which  written 
text  Is  susceptible,  and  all  the  easy  legibility  of  the  print-.'d  j)age  now  beiore 
our  reader's  eye.  An  intelligent  survey  of  all  the  short-hand  systcuis  exta.it, 
synoptically  exhibited  In  one  of  these  beautiful  volumes,  clearly  demonstrates 
that  Pitman's  is  profoundly  original  and  incomparably  superior  to  every  rival. 
No  young  man,  no  child  ought  to  be  ignorant  of  the  art.  And.  once  learned, 
these  books  furnish  a  most  attractive  means  of  retention  by  reading. 


(21.)  "  Three  Lcduref  on  Eijijptlan  Antiquities,  ^^'c.,  ildlccreil  at  the  StviK-e- 
sant  Iriftilute,  Xcic-York,  Mai/.  1S5<3,"  by  Dr.  G.  Seykkauth.  Those 
lectures  wc  find  published,  with  "Copyright  secured,"  in  the  Kvanc;klic.a.l 
Review,  published  at  Gettysburgh,  Pa.  AVe  feel  a  deep  regret  that  a  produc- 
tion so  extraordinary  should  not  be  scattered  broadcast  before  the  public,  in- 
stead of  being  confined  to  the  pages  of  an  excellent  periodical,  yet  of  a  lim- 
ited circulation,  and  in  a  provincial  locality.  A\'e  have  never  read  any  thin.:,  on 
the  most  interesting  subject  of  Egyjitian  antiquities  to  be  compared  v.irh  these 
remarkable  lectures. 

Dr.  SeylVarth,  we  are  informed,  Avas  for  thirty-four  years  Professor  of  Ar- 
chaeology in  tlie  University  of  Loipslc.  "  Among  scholars  acquainted  v.ith  the 
subject  of  these  lectures,  none,  unless  prejudiced  or  irretrievably  committed  to 
tlie  contrary,  v.-i'l  be  disposed  to  deny,  that  Dr.  S.  was  the  first  to  unlock  the 
mysteries  of  ancient  Egypt,  to  read  her  written  character,  to  interj)ret  her  as- 
tronomy, and  to  expound  her  history  and  reconcile  it  with  Scripture.  His  sys- 
tem ha.s  been  adopted  b}-  most  eminent  scholars  ;  the  successor  of  Champol- 
lion  at  Paris  adopted  it  at  once,  in  the  place  of  his  [iredecessor's,  which  is  no- 
toriously absurd  and  useless,  ha\!ng  never  led  to  any  n'-iilts  except  ihi-  nn/st 
ludicrous.  Dr.  Seylliuth's  system  is  the  first  by  means  of  which  anything  satis- 
factory has  been,  the  only  one  by  which  anything  satisfactory  can  be  accom- 
plished. Himself  a  protbund  mathematician  and  astronomer,  he  has  In  his  un- 
limited abilit}'  to  turn  the  astronomlial  observations  of  tlie  ancient  Egyptians 
to  most  profitable  account,  an  immense  advantage  over  Lepsius  and  others,  who 
Lave  employed  such  knowledge  as  they  possessed  of  Egypt's  antI(]uities,for  the 
purpose  of  utterly  discrediting  the  Old  Testament.  AVliile  t/inf  cannot  calcu- 
laie,  ami  know  notliing  of  astronomy,  the  calculations  of  J)r.  S(  _\  fTutli.  jno- 
nounced  correct  by  the  most  eminent  astronomers  of  (Jermany,  serve  In  the 
most  wonderful,  often  startling  manner,  to  confirm  the  history  of  the  Bible." 

Dr.  Si^yfJarth  claims  to  have  discovered  a  new  law  in  Egyptian  writing, 
which  takes  up  the  sidijer t  where  Chamiiollion  left  it,  and  deciphers  at  once 
multitudes  of  in.-criptions  which  were  sealed  to  ChampoUiou,  or  by  him  attempted 

Fourth  Shries,  Vol.  V 111.— 41 


C50  Short  Reviews  and  Notices  of  Books.         [October, 

■with  most  absuTtl  results.  A  wlio'.c  volume  of  biblical  conforir.ations  is  thereby 
opened.  The  anti-scriptural  chronologies  of  Bunsen  arc  concl'isively  correct- 
ed, riionctic  v.riting,  he  traces  beyond  the  flood.  The  shepherd  kings,  he 
identifies  with  the  Israelites.  Tb.e  seventy  years  of  captivity  are  verified.  The 
ancient  IIebre\7s  used  a  solar  year,  and  observed  Easter  at  the  verna4^quino.x, 
our  •22d  of  March.  Hebrew  was  the  ])rimitive  language.  Theism,  not  idolatry, 
is  proved  the  primitive  religion.  "  The  first  twelve  dynasties  of  Manetho,  and 
several  others,  reigned  nni  in  suct-essiun,  but  simultaneously  in  different  prov- 
inces. Fourteen  conjunctions  prove  that  ^Menes  did  not  take  possession  of 
Mizraim  initil  21^1  A.  ('.,  during  tlie  reign  of  Plialek,  six  hundred  and  sixtv- 
six  years  after  the  delugo.  jVIoscs,  whose  conjunction  is  mentioned  by  Joscphus, 
by  the  Kabbis,  and  even  in  the  Old  Testament,  was  born  under  the  seven- 
teenth dynasty,  1918  A.  C"  "  Tlie  day  on  which  Christ  rose  from  the  dead 
■was  the  same  on  which  the  creation  of  the  world  was  completed.  Thus  we 
have  a  confirmation  of  the  true  chronology  of  the  Bible,  which  begins  with  the 
Sabbath  of  the  vernal  crpiinox,  5871   A.  C." 

Tiie  seven  letters  of  the  ])rimitive  aljihabet  express  the  seven  planets,  and  bv 
their  alphabetic  jm^ition  actually  indicate  the  7th  of  September,  3447  B.  C, 
the  day  of  the  ending  of  the  deluge  !     These  are  a  few  of  many  wonders. 

We  learn  from  the  September  number  of  Der  Deutsche  Kirchenfreunde,  (in 
the  German  language,)  which  has  just  come  to  hand,  that  Dr.  Seyffarth  is  now 
professor  In  the  Concordia  Collegium,  at  St.  Louis.  The  Ivirchenfreunde  con- 
tains a  noiice  of  a  work  by  Dr.  SeylTarth  in  German,  published  at  Lcipsi(.',  185r>. 
It  is  a"  Rectification  of  Itonuinand  Greek  History,  Chronology,  ;^^ythology,  and 
Sacred  History,  grounded  upon  now  aids,  historical  and  astronomical."  The 
doctor  has  been  publishing,  as  we  learn  in  the  same  periodical,  ''  Polemical 
Questions  for  all  Clirl-tian  Confession-^,"  which  deal  with  som.c  matters  of  chro- 
nology upon  altogether  a  dilTerent  bisis  from  the  discussions  of  Doctors  Akers 
and  Strong,  which  (at  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Nast.)  a  learned  friend,  a  professor 
in  one  of  our  American  Universities,  has  otfered  to  translate  for  our  Quarterly. 

Now  that  wc  are  i\\)on  tlie  subject,  let  us  most  earnestly  call  upon  our 
friends  In  the  city,  or  visiting  our  city  from  elsewhere,  not  to  neglect  the  privi- 
lege of  visiting  Abbot's  rvlnseum  of  Egyptian  Antiquities.  There  is  no  collec- 
tion so  worthy  to  be  the  pride  of  our  metropolis  and  tiic  favourite  of  our  nation, 
yet  it  is  scarcely  named  in  iuwn.  or  known  in  country.  One  little  specimen 
is  worth  more  to  our  eyes  than  a  sight  of  Niagara.  It  Is  the  necklace  of  ]\lenes, 
or  Mi^ruim,  first  king  of  Egypt.  Here,  too,  are  the  features  in  stone,  undoubt- 
edly contemporaneous,  of  the  Pharaoh  of  the  Exodus,  the  very  countenance 
that  Mosos  faced  !  Here  are  the  armour  of  Shishak,  the  clay  seal  stamp  of  Tir- 
hakah,  the  very  strawless,  unburned  brick  of  Egypt,  perhaps  wrought  by  Hebrew 
slaves  !  These  and  nmltitudes  of  other  objects  bring  the  Egyjit  of  Abraham, 
Joseph,  and  ]Mosc«,  directly  under  tJK;  eye  of  the  New-Yorker. 

AVhile  niiUionaue  fortiuies  are  made  from  American  x.Iusc-ums  scarce  elevated 
above  the  humbug  grade,  it  is  mortifying  to  know,  that  this  splendid  collection 
pays  not  Its  own  expenses  I  Dr.  Abliot,  wc  are  Informed,  though  not  an 
American,  might  have  received  for  It  u  numificent  compensation  In  Euroi>e, 
but  preferred  to  place  it  In  possession  of  Young  America.     It  ought  to  be  pur- 


1856.]  Short  RevLcws  and  Notices  of  Books.  G51 

chased  by  some  our  niercliant  princes,  or  else  by  legislative  enactment,  and 
be  made  free  to  public  inspection,  as  a  proud  public  institution. 


("22.)  "  Notes  on  (Jic  Goij>tL\  Cri'iral  and  E.rj)luna!or>/,  incorporating  tcith  the 
Notes,  on  a  New  Plan,  the  most  Approvrd  Harmony  of  tie  Four  Go>'i>cls,  by 
Mr.LAN'CTnox  "\V.  Jacodus.  Professor  of  Biblical  Literature  in  the  "Western 
Theological  Serainary  at  Alleghany  city,  Pennsylvania.  JOHN."  ("Carter  iv: 
Brothers,  IS.jij ;  r2aio.,  pp.  ;>  18.)  This  is  a  ronunontary  ou  Jolin  of  supL'Hor 
excellence.  The  sources  upon  which  he  mainly  relieil  are  thus  succinctly 
stated : 

"  The  illustrations  which  are  intrciluced  arc  mainly  sucli  as  have  been  vrrifiefl 
by  the  author's  personal  observations  in  the  Holy  Land.  Xotioes  of  localities  and 
customs,  from  the  same  source,  are  also  interspersed,  rarallid  passages  of 
.Scripture  have  been  not  only  referred  to  extensively  in  tlic  Notes,  but  cited  in 
the  very  words  as  often  as  possible.  The  literature  of  this  Gospel  has  been 
greatly  enriched  of  lato  ;  and  has  been  carefully  applied,  during  the  last  fo\v 
years,  to  this  volume.  Besides  the  f.-^rlrs  of  Lampe,  Tittman.  and  Lucke,  which 
are  so  well  known.  Professor  Tholuck  has  issued  a  sixth  edition  of  his  Commen- 
tary, quite  re-written.  It  is  now  in  course  of  translation  by  tlie  Ilev.  C.  P. 
Krauth.  of  Pittsburgh.  Of  the  recent  helps, '  Alford's  Commcitar.v'  ou  the  Creek 
text,  (Vols.  I.  and  II.  issued.)  \Vebster  and  Wilkinson's  New  Testament,  Vol.  I. 
just  issued,) aiul  '  Plain  Coimnentary  on  the  Gospels,' are  valuable  expositi  .ns 
from  the  trhuvch  of  England.  Brown's  'Discourses  and  Sayings  of  our  boril,' 
Stier's  'Wonls  of  Jesus,'  Quesnel  on  the  Gospels,  (BoarJman's  Iviition.)  (Ushau- 
scn's  Commentary,  and  Meyer's  and  Hutcbeson's,  with  Bcngol  and  Calvin,  are 
tut  a  few  of  the  prominent  authorities  at  hand,  on  this  portion  of  Seriptaro. 
Francis  Trench  on  'The  Life  and  Charaetvr  of  John,'  is  hijrhly  intcrc'^ticg." 

Tlie  following  passage  presents  a  coinplote  disproof  of  the  sceptical  theovies 
of  Strauss  and  ITennell : 

"  The  writings  of  Hipnolytus,  latidy  (liscovercd,  show  that  it  was  acknowlo  Igod 
as  in  use.  and  as  received  in  the  Cliurchcs  as  early  as  A.  D.  117.  The  dtt^bo 
iiian  manuscripts  lately  found,  quote  it  as  early  as  A.  D.  I:.'').  So  that  the  late 
sceptical  theory  which  has  laboureil  to  make  out  a  later  date  for  this  Gospel 
narrative,  even  as  late  as  the  middle  of  the  second  century,  is  positively  liis- 
proved,  without  the  need  of  exposing  the  folly  of  those  assumptions  upon  wl.i'-.'i 
this  theory  was  built." 

There  are  many  points  of  special  c.^cellonce,  wdiich  render  this  little  aoI- 
cme  a  valuable  addition  to  our  Biblical  literature. 


Our  notices  of  the  following  works  are  excluded  by  want  of  room  : 

Ilibbard  ou  the  Psalms.  Carlton  &  Porter,  8vo.,  pp.  ^>S9.  A  learned  and 
elaborate  work,  of  wiiidi  a  review  will  be  furnished  in  a  t'uturc  number. 

Arthur's  Tongue  of  Fire.  Harper  &  Brothers,  12mo.,  pp.  ;}.')-l.  It  is  grati- 
fying that  this  awakening  work  is  scattered  broad-cast  by  the  Harper  jiress. 

Emerson's  KnLdiih  Traits.    P)0ston  :  Pliillips,  Sampson,  ^:  Co.,  12mo..  pp.  312. 

Pisgah  Views,  by  Rev.  Dr.  Cuoss.  Carlton  &  Porter,  12mo.,  pp.  aOO.  A 
boautlt'ul  and  elr^picut  volume,  favouring  millennarian  views. 

The  Harmony  of  the  Divine  Disper.sations,  by  Grout; i;  Smith,  author  of 
Sacred  Annals.     London:  H.  Longman,  Svo.,  pp.  357. 

Memori.als  of  his  Time,  by  Hr.xr.Y  Cockbukn.  Appletons,  ISmo., 
pp.  442. 


652  Editorial  Parley.  [October, 


Art.  VIII.— editorial  rARLEY.. 

A  critical  authority  in  one  of  our  most  popular  diurnals,  gravely  adnionislics 
the  editor  of  tlic  Ladie /  Repository,  that  au  "  editor  ouglit  not  publicly  to  praise 
his  own  contributors."  It  Is  agreeable  for  us  to  be  instructed  by  a  qualified 
master  of  proprieries,  but  ruli's  of  ctiipictte  not  founded  in  some  ground  of  com- 
mon convenience,  or  common  sense,  may  ■svell  be  left  to  be  obeyed  or  enforced 
by  the  gentlemen  u.-hcrs  v.ho  arc  i)leascd  to  enact  tlum.  Of  this  and  some 
other  grave  prcsci-iptions  M'e  find  it  desirable  to  venture  some  clear  ir:fringe- 
nient.  It  is  our  purpose,  first,  albeit  unsustaincd  by  the  usual  laws  of  Quar- 
terly impersonality,  to  spread  an  "  Edi ion's  T.\iu-e  ;"  at  which  we  design  to 
come  into  direct  communing  with  our  little  but  very  respectable  "  public." 
Next,  it  is  very  possible  thai  we  may  commit  the  vialuni  prolMtum  of  casting 
a  retrospective  glance  over  the  articles  of  our  number,  and  uttering  such  com- 
mendations or  other  remarks  as  our  own  judgment  may  suggest.  Thirdly,  be- 
sides this  sdf-rcvlew,  it  is  our  pin-pose  to  establish  a  department  whicli  might 
be  called  the  "  Spirit  nfthe  Ro.vkn-s  ;"  in  which  we  may  venture  to  re\icw  our 
quarterly  and  monthly  brethren,  especially  the  foreign,  condensing  or  brielly 
extracting,  when  any  article  of  spei'ial  interest  occurs. 

The  fu'st  article  in  our  present  number  is  a  finished  and  finishing  critique, 
which  susiains  its  own  severity  by  the  clearness  of  its  proofs  ;  nor,  perh:ip?,  will 
its  great  length  prevent  a  sort  of  willingness  that  It  should  have  been  a  little 
longer. 

The  admirers  of  living  will  pcrhnps  be  gratified  at  the  genial  yet  discrimi- 
nating appreciation  of  their  favourite,  presented  in  the  second  article. 

Those  who  have  in  -.rked  with  deep  regret  the  influence  of  Carlyle  upon  the 
style  of  language,  and  not  less,  undoubtedly,  upon  the  thoughts  and  principles 
of  our  young  men.  e<i.>ccially  at  our  universities,  will  find  an  effective  antidote 
indicated  In  the  article  on  Ikiyne's  C  hristlan  Life,  by  a  young  writer,  from 
whom  good  .service  iu  the  cause  of  literature  is  to  be  anticipated.  "\Vc 
earnestly  recommend  the  work  itself  to  the  admirers  of  Carlylc's  barbaric 
style  and  Pantheistic  philosophy. 

Much  of  our  jircscnt  tiunibcr  is  n-cupied  by  chroTiological  table-,  nccc^surily 
though  drily,  as  an  appendage  to  the  previous  article  on  Biblical  Chronologyi 
by  Dr.  Strong.  Of  tiie  demonstrative  accuracy  of  his  views,  we  are  unable  to 
express  any  opinion  from  a  close  examination.  We  have  never  been  able  to 
select  our  chronology  from  the  liundred  or  two  theories  enumerated  by  Dr. 
Hales  as  extant,  and  we  shudder  at  the  thought  oi  wlduvj  a  new  one. 


INDEX. 


Abbott's  (Jacob)  Learning  to  Talk. .  ..Pace  l.Vi 

-Le;xrninsto  Tliinic -IPO 

i:.il:o  Hooks 311 

'IV-ailier 49-' 

Abbott's  (J.  S.  C.)  LilV  of  Xapolcon biii 

Napoleon  at  St.  IleleDS 311 

Abrabauiic  covinaiits,  two 5S5 

Aflttuis's  Three  UMnb-ns 494 

yj:~ch vluf.,  by  Biirklev 492 

Akcrs's  Biblical  Chronology 15T,  JiS 

Alchemy  and  the  A!clionii>ts 4CS 

objects  of  tlic  Alchemists 472 

tiu-ir  theory  of  traniiiiutatioQ  of  metals.  472 

— —  the  philosopher'.s  stone 47-3 

obscurity  of  tip;  Alcliotnists 47G 

•  tl-.eir  nioil.  s  of  procedure 47o 

their  iticideutal  di.<coveries.. 473 

the  art  i:ot  yet  renounced 4^t 

Ale\ii:u!er  on  the  rsalins 292 

—  on  I^ai.'.h 29-5 

AU>oirs  Hi:?tory  of  Europe 40.5 

Aiiieric:i:i  national  rhnrni-ter V2'j 

Anderson's  Light  from  Bible  Lands 159 

Anihews's  Sure  .Anchor lo4 

Ap[iieton's  Cyclopa-dia  of  Biography 491 

Arcliiteeture,' ancient,  a  remarkable  peculiar- 
ity of 250-'255 

Ari<totle,  his  lode 527 

Armini:ini?!n  defended  from  the  attacks  of 

tlie  Princeton  Keview 1r>~ 

not  subversive  of  sraco '2>>\ 

Arininius,  his  doctrine  of  grace 2(11 

Arthur's  \ddre:"ses  iu  America olT 

Athens,  Monuiuents  of '2-3.> 

— ,  Kgvptian  origin  of '2:m 

,  foundation  of 2:',9 

^,  the  AcropolLs 206-241 

,  the  Propvhea 242 

,  the  Parthenon 2oiJ 

,  French  Seho<.l  cf  Art  in 236 

Austida,  state  of  lioiuauism  in 324,500 

Baird's  Eelirion  in  America 611 

)'.iil'Limore,  lavini:  oat  of  the  citv 4o'y 

,  i:.trodue!i,.n  of  M.tliodiMn 409 

,  tir-:  Meth..di.~t  Cluireli  ia 441 

,  flr.Nt  coiiferenee  bel  I  in 442 

,  LiL'ht-street  Church 444,  447 

r.nnVi^t  Publication  Soeietr 15 

liar.is  Waikna .' 159 

Barnes  on  Job 292 

on  Kevclation 295 

Barr's  Elooniinu'  Hopes  mid  'Withered  Joys.  lt;2 

Hanon's  I'rineiples  of  Grammar 311 

Ji.iv  lir's  Chri-t  i.in  Life 15S,  540 

---,  hi,  bin.-i-aphica!  .-^ketcliLS 503 

r.eekvvuiirth's  Adveiilnres C44 

B.HcIo  I's  (Mi-s1  Lctier.N  to  the  People 152 

■   —  P:iv>i^.:..^v  un.l '-alisihenics 493 

Jiere'.-.  .Vb.ad.U.n  and  Mahanaim 321 

Berlin  riiivirM.y   3ii7 

}teules  i;.\crop,de  d'Ath.iies 2-35 

Biblical  Lltrratnre,  I'raetical  Hints  for  Stu- 
dents of OSS 

Bibli.-nl  Arehaoloiry 2-< 

Cbrouologv 41.S,  C:") 


I  Biblical  Geographies Pntrc 

I jrermeiieutics '.. 

iri.-torics 2>S. 

I Introductions 

I Philology 

I  Biographies,  common  defects  of 

' what  expected  in 

Bl.akelcv's  Theology  of  Inventions 

I  Blakeman's  State  of  the  Soul,  jcc 

]  Blakey's  History  of  Lo^ic 

I  Bomier's  Child's  History  of  the  United 
States 

Broad  Church  Party 17S, 

I  Brouillon's  Missions  in  China 

!  Bn.wn's  voice  from  the  Pious  Dead 

■  Bunkley's  Escaped  Novice 

;  Bunsen'  Chevalier 

I  Bus'.i  on  the  Pentateuch 

I Nev,-  Church  Miscellany 

I  Butler's  Ethical  Discourses 

i  Butler  and  Sturgus's  Sallttst 


1  Cahinism  a  Corruption  of  Christianity ^-'S 

I  Calvin's  Comtnentaries 192 

CamhridiTe  Universitv 272.  274 

I  Carlyle.  Mr..-. ." 55;3,  5.V.,i,  :..:.) 

i  Carroll  .-^shton ;';2 

j  Ca'sar's  Coumientaries lt''2 

i  Chateaubriand's  Es.<ay  on  Kcvolutions 219 

I  Cheover's  Lectures  on  Cowper IPii 

Cl'.ildhood,  .,r  Liulc  Alice ;<'.2 

1  Child's  Preacher,  th,' l'"2 

;  Child's  (Mrs.)  New  Eiower  for  Children.;..  »!2 
I r,.„:rT  .,  or  l;cli-ious  Ideas 155 

(•liii;^    .   i.::  j.,-r  at  Fuh  t  hall :c,2 

'  C    '  :;  of ;!91 


^  C.  ■!  ■-  <':■:•:  -.by  Edwards VJi 

- — -  Orations,  by  Yongo 4.'2 

I  Clark  on  Sight  and  Hearing 4--' 

I  Cokesburv  College 44:. 

Coleridge". 174,  ISl.  1?2,  r.';: 

I ,  his  philosophy I^» 

Cone.  Dr..  Funeral  Sermon  on '■'- 

;  Con'ra.-t.  the ^. ■ -' 

I  Cunybe.ire  and  Ilnwson's  Life  and  E|/i-;l  ■.■< 

i  of  St.  Paul 2S9,  291,  29'2,  296 

Cooke's  Centuries 2"<S 

Cousin.  Victor "-"U 

I  Co\'s  Thrive  Questions  on  Slavery.... 3!'.» 

'  Crimea,  historical  sketch  of  the '"^ 

I  ,  map  of  the 7" 

I .  militarv  operations  in  the <''.^ 

1  Chronolo-y,  Biblic  .1  lievi-w  .>f  .\kers'j II-* 

! ,  ri-ason  for  preferring  the  Hebrew '.19 

I ,  Strong's  table  of CM 

1  B.nniel,  prophecies  of 294 

I  Dante  and  the  ori.-in  of  Mali  m  I.it.rature.  ..  :;-l 

' ,  his  poem  tije  lirst  in  the  l>opular  idiom  "W 

! ,  outiiiio  iif  his  clmriu;ter :'y? 

j ,liis  works sn 

,  mlxtur.i  of  p.-iL'an   and   Clinstiau  cle- 

I  nunts  in  hi-'  poem r.9T 

;  .  end  and  motive  ot  his  po.-m -lOi) 

''  Davis's  Daystar  of  Ainirican  Freedom <V.'0 


654 


INDEX. 


De  XIaistro  on  French  Ultramnntanism  .Pacrt? 

■ ,  his  connifTO  in  alvcr^ity 219, 

,  his  Con'-kUratifins  df  In  France..  .. 

,  peciiliaritios  of  hi.-!  ?y-tom 221, 

,  oppo^^ition  to  GcilUcanism 

■ ,  oiislaiisht  on  B:icon 

,  liis.s../,v'<'?.i5?.  Pttcr^lourr/ 

-,  hisl:ist  ilays 


l)f'niostlien<> 
Derby's  Catl 
DixVT-nlM.';, 
I^ixon'^  '^i  ■ 
Dohi.'-,-  K   V 


lainpli 


Voon"s  Practice . , . . , 


,  an  t.lition  jv-.tiMslied  in  Ireland 2n2 

,  tqiiivxari'  ;i  ?.;'.'l  titchood  of  lioniisli 

prelates  r(>;K  <-'!■-  J' 204-211 

Druninioiid  (in  tiic  Kirables IC'S 

Dupin.  Memoirs  of _ ?":■ 

,  his  piibl-c  life ;^G 

,  his  C'.  ( '(.V  .<  a  Uh  re-^ 3T 

Duyckir.k's  Cycloi  iedia  of  American  Litera- 

turo 32 1 

Kadle  on  Colossiaus 319 

Karly  Dead,  Vol.  iv 162 

ICftStern  War,  the 51 

Editorial  Parley <552 

Egyptian  Anti.juiries,   Seyffarth"s  Lectures 


Elliott  on  f^laverv 

EnaUsh  Tlistory.'Ta'es  from 

Enirlisli  Literature,  a  characteristic  of 

English  University  Life  and  University  Re 

form 

En?Ii>h  I'liiversitii's,  character  of 

Enniiis,  tlie  l;"ii',:iil  d.ramatist. 

Europe,  r..liL'io  ^^  ?:ate  of 02: 

Eveuini;   In.en=^e 

Ewbank's  Life  in  Brazil 


Eairbairn's  Typolosy 

EerfTUSon's  CoiuniuViioali'ins  from  i> 
Ferrv's  Viit'ahond  Liu-  in  Mexico.. 
EoivlerV,  W.  L.,  Ensii.-l.  Laii-u  vso 
Eowler'.s  O.,  Ili>torv  of  the' War 

Pus-ia.and  Turkey 

Foxc's  Acts  and  Monunents 

France,  st.ite  of  F,oiiiar.i<m  in 

French  Lirerature.  Lefters  on 

propensity  to  memoir  writing. 

Fry's  Fropi-rty  Con.-ecratcd 

Future  Life,  M.artiii  on  the 


pints 


Gaddis's  Pacred  Tlonr % 

Oaliicanlsin,  inctii.-istcncy  of 

anil  An<:lica;ii,~m  compared 

Gass's  History  of  Protestant  Dogmatics. . .. 

General  Conference  .Tonrnals 

German  Church  in  America 13:3, 

influence  of  .Methodism  on  the 

German  Gymnasia 

theology. . . .' 

prof.svijr  in  a  Xfethodist  meeting 

German  Uniri-r.-ities  


ITackett's  Commentary  on  Acts Page  291 

Illustrations  efScripture ICO 

Hamilton's  Emblems  from  Eden 4h7 

Hamilton,  .^ir  William 19.J 

Hiirdinu's  Lectin  OS  on  Jonah .;r)4 

H.-.re.  Auiu^t'is  William ITi) 

H.ire.  .lulius  Ch.'irlos ICJ 

,  estiir.;it.:-  uf  i,i>  riiaracter 171,  1»1 

.  his  theoio;:'ioal  piintion 171,  17S 

,  parentas'e  ?.•^■^  connection? li:J 

,  inl3uence  of  Coleridg-  on  his  philosophy 

and  thiolo:ry 1T4,  175,  182,  ••,X\ 

,  his  views  of  Episcopacy 177 

,  opposiiion  to  Eomanisru  and  Tract.tri- 

anism 179 

,  character  as  a  critic T.U 

,  as  a  controversialist 19! 

,  his  Vindication  of  Luther 109,  19'1 

,  character  of  liis  preacliing 329 

,  his  theolocical  opinions." 3;'.'? 

,  defective  views  of  the  atonement S'T 

,  of  justification  by  faith 314 

,  and  of  inspiration .Si8 

,  his  comprehensive  attainments 3,50 

,  his  death 181 

Hare's  Guesses  at  Truth ITO 

Harper's  Storv  Books 164,  49G 

Harry  Budd.: 165 

Heber,  Bishop,  Life  of 401 

Uclps's  -Spanish  Conquest 494 

I  HenL'stenber^'  on  the  Psalms 292 

:  Herodotus.  Carv'.' 312 

! ,  Life  and  travels  of 496 

High  places,  why  devoted   to   heathen   di- 
vinities.. .'. 239 

Hill-side  Flowers lij^ 

Histories,  co:nmon  defect  in o-U 

Hodee  on  Ephrsi.ins 4!-S 

Holy  places,  disimtes  respecting  the  53 

1  Homwopnthv,  ^iar;ec's  Letters  on 3^  3 

I  Horace,  Smart's '■'■'^ 

I  Horseford's  Voice  from  the  West  Indies. . . .  49:! 

I  Huguenot  Exiles 49ij 

I  Humboldt's  Cuba.. 4^5 

I  rnfidelity,  disguised,  of  modern  literature. ..  ."i.^O 
j  Iroquois,  the.  bv  Miimie  M\rt!u   l-'> 

Irving._M'a.<;lnrgton,  AVorks  of 53T 

I ,  Knickerbocker's  New- York 5^>'> 

I ,  Conqm-st  of  Granada ...  MO 

I ,  Life  of  Goldsmith,  kc M:"! 

,  Lis  Tales.  Sketches,  i-o ^5 

1  Isai.ah,  Commentaries  on 29'? 

Italian  Sights  and  Papal  Principles -lirT 

Italy  after  the  fall  of  Charkmagne's  empire  3S4 


Jacobus  on  the  Gospel  of  John 

Jacobv'.s  Han.ibook  of  Methodism 

Jews,  New  Tostai!ici:t  View  ,^  their  He 


rati 


,  nature  of  their  f.dl .' 5T« 

.  to  wh.at  they  will  be  restored  riS2,  5S: 

Jewish  Calendar,  the 

Johnny  M'Kay,  or  the  Sovereign 

Jones's  Captive  Youths  of  Judah 

Jo wett  on  Paul's  Epistles 


quired  for. 


tion. 


in... 


Germany.  Iii.'ii.-r  .  ( 

;  Itom'mttn  in!  ^'.'.'.^.''.'.'/.'.'.'.'.'. .'.'.'. 

Gieselcr's  History  of  Doctrines 

Gillv,  General,  aiul  his  protectors 

G.  o-lrlch's  BlMe  Geography 

GollinL'cu,  Lutheran  <'ontroversv  at 

Gu'hvh's    W.I  Christian's  Great  Interest. 
G utli rie-6  (^ r.)  Gospel  in  EzekicI 


o^h'  Kansa-s,  Six  Months  in 

3i'o  i  Kant's  Critique 

•'<"S  !  Kpinpis's  Imi:.'ition  of  Cliri.st 

3'  <l  ;  King,  John,  introduces  Methodism  into  ]>al- 

3i'o  1  timore 

4'.'s    Kitto,  Dr..  Pyiand's  Life  of 

.'i'12    Kossuth  in  -VnuTifa 

495  I  Krummaclier's  Sutfering  Saviour 

l5"'  1  Ladv's  Gnide  to  Gentility 

100  !  Lamb's  W-rko 

322  ,  Latin  lan2ua'.;o,  development  of 

321  j of  German  Cunimentators 


INDEX. 


655 


Latin  Traffcilj-,  Ribbeck's  Remains  of.  .Pase 

,  an  imitation  of  tlie  Greek til,  sa  j  IVck. 

,  reason  for  tliis ST  |  I'lil 

,  a  wotii.  of  uvt,  not  of  genius. . 

,  earl  it^'^t  writers  of 


I  Poabody  on  Convcrsaiion. .    Pa:ro  IM 

111  Iiloa  of  Clirivtiaiiity '..   4'.i7 

S  Wurk.s  of. lf,l 

SO,  So  I  PliiloloL'v.  Auti(iimrian T,^ 

.     90  I  Pierce's 'Wv.-l 


iw  Paris 

stori;ii;.> 


9SI  P 
.     ]o-2  ,  V 


.i>-  Works.. 
of  Ilvtiin?. 


i^O    PiiiiMv,  >   .-..  M.nioirsof. 

4'j:j  I  Pre<cotf=;  Ili-^toi-y  of  J'ljiiip  II. 


l'iin< 


Ri-vicw  on  Ariuinianisiii : 

rela'-ion  to 521  I  Prophoev,  Hlil  Testament 

'-  '  Nc'nv  Test:mic-nt 


1.1 1; 


-,  a  rule  for  ti 


of  Aristotle 

LoouiisV  Ariihinitic 4^9 

Pro^-e--5  of  Astronomy 6-15  |  Proplicts.  the  Minor,  ("ouiiiii-ntiiri 

Louii  Plii..ii>[>e 45-51  |  Protcstaiifisni  iji  Kiiropc 

Luther,  chiracier  of  liis  writings 102    Prussia,  Runiaiiisni  in ti-j.'i 

,  veheincnce  of  bis  Ian2iia;;e 190  |  Pulpit  Eloqueuce,  Fi-sh's  lU-pository  of 4>'<i) 


3i:;!,  4;>T 


Luthe 
I.athe 
iyinan,  Henry,  Martyr  of  Sumatra. 


....  16(5 

. . . .  49S  I  Quesnol  > 


(3441 


Macauhu-'s  in^torv  of  En-land 31 

iIa>U-ira  ::u\  Poi-tiis:il,  Adventures  in 4> 

Malri  :.  tiir  A"ir:,,..  in 32 

Maol,;  .  ~  T  -ir-,  1 ,1  Years  in  tlie  Itinerancy  St 

Ma--     >  ■>         r  111!'' tU 

M  ;:   i  '  :  ::r  Mv  Lilc 2U 

M  C.  .  ;.    ;  m;  (.iovernnient 1.") 

i.vi.;:,:;  i.j.in-m  Creation 491  j  l; 

M'Coniii.;k's  VL4t  to  tiie  Camp  before  Se- 

b.i-sa.pol 51  I 

Me5meri.-.:u 14-S    — 

Metiiodism.  .^landers  on,  refuted 1.5-2  i  — 

in  liaUiniure  an.l  Maryland 4il  |  Ro 

MeUM<Ii-l  i-:i.i.-.?..pal  Cbureli.  or.-:'.iii.:ation  of  443  [  — 

S'.ii'i^tv,  li;c  lirst  in  Aiiie:ie;i 4^15,  4-')0  | 

M'Gliee's  X.jf./s  of  itie  B.uviy  BiMo 

Moo.-L-'i  I'l..;.!:.'!*  oftlie  llestoraiion 

More.  Ilar'.iiiiU.  iiortra<;t3 

Mo'.K-\'j  l;i^c  ot'tlie  Dutch  llepubiic 

Mullei':>  D-v  an jrelie.u  Unlou 

Iit«\'iii3,  the  Roman  draniatist 

Napolco-:.  AMiott'i  Lite  of 

.'.t  St.  llil,  na 

Nc.Vr.->  (">.ie  W'or'l  More 

i\'e,ander  s  Lite  oi  Christ 

Nellie  ofTruro 

Newton.  l;.v.  Robert 

.  def.et^  i;;  -Ja^'Uson's  Life  of 


the  Gospels .SIS 

1 7-2 


I  Radical  reform,  criticism  on  the  phriv 

Ramus,  Waddia-ton's  Life  of 

Rnph.airs  History  of  the  .Jews. 

Retbinier.  tb.-  true 

l:,-ve-ui..|..  i:.,.uM.io„sof 

I  l;ii. :,..,,  1.  ■  ':.!.Mt.  Xoiesof  the.... 
•  l.i  i  :  ,  ,i,s  of  Latin  Tra^redy. 
1  l;  -  ...  :  -  1      .  _l'''i  Readers 


..   1.V2 
..  4^7 
Roman   littxauire,  its  indebtetliies*  ti>  the. 

Creek. SI,  .^."5,  ?r, 

,  want  of  poetic  element  in  the '•7 

ntoftiie 91 

..  19S 
21.  5iK-> 


lai 
Rosser's  R 


1  persecuting. 
iii'iiViieaven'.! 


19S     Russian  war  with  Turkey 
32.t  I ,  Its  iinnffWi'.te  cause, 


. . .      13  I  .  attemiit.-  to  avt-rt  it , . , 

. . .  49.-)  i ;  interljr.'uee  of  the  Allied 

. . .  107  j ,  equivocal  conduct  of  Austria 

I ,  operations  in  tlie  Crimea 

. .     J9  I  Kyle's  Priest,  Puritan,  aiul  Preacher 

. . .  MS 

.    .  811    Sallnst,FIorus.ito.,  Watsons  Translatio 

. . .  570  I  ^iiunpson  on  Hebrews 

. . .   5TD  1  Sardinia,  oppo-i;  ion  of,  to  Roman  pretcu; 


...  290 
...  159 
...  107 
...  110 


117 1 ; 

11.' 


utt  on  An.ei-ica '-^ 

;  his  vi.w  of  our  national  ciinr.'icter. . . ..  l-'.j 

-,  of  reli'.'ion  .and  the  Church 1-' 

■,  of  the  Clmreh  of  Rome '•"*;' 

-,  of -Methixiism  in  America IIIJ,  bs': 

■,  andi>fthe  .Vmi-rii'aii  German  Ch':-r)i.  I:.1 
.1!    .if   t!i.      i:n-:i-i.     -r     ■   .     -1 


Rbua.'.ance  ..f  his  labours l-'O  ,  Sehaff's  History  of  the  Apostolic  Chute 

devotion  to  iiis  work 1"21     Scbamyl,  Mac:;ie's  Life  of. 


Newman  Dr. 

NuK,  tlie  Kscaped 


...  190,  PJd    Schmits  Manual  of  Ancient  Hist.. 
16;5 


Old  C:hr>st  and  its  Treasures Ml 

<.);d  H f.niilirey.  Memoirs  of 102 

Olms.e  I's -biurney  in  the  Slave  State 

()!.!ri  '^t'l's  Co'.nuientariea 

Ori  II  a'  (-..urcues  the 320,504 

C).xi'>r.l  Cni.er^irv,  «  relic  of  the  past.. 

— ,  tiiv  bin!ipl.rf.>  of  Puseyinn 

,  li.-^tof  i:.  c~\'..:,-< 

,  gou.rnnieiit  anil  instruction 

,  recent  r»  forms  in 


r.^cuvius 
r».nth.i-i 
Pai>aev.  ^ 


•n:in  dramatist 92 

'e  of;  f.ir  temporal  supremacy  l;^l 


b.Tstopol,  plan  an.l  >!e-'.^  'jf ,■■■.•• 

ytfarth's  Lectures  on  Kirypiian  Anti.i'"*'- 
vmour's  EveniniTS  \vltli  the  RjiiKtni'ta  . 

1 CS  \  S^liaks[>,-aie,  Hudson's  edition 

490  I  Sheol 

is  the  name  of  a  place 

„  .,    and  the  ab.- le  orcon-:ciou.H  inli.ihlt.iiit" 

270    Sillim:in',s  World's  .rubilec • _  •  • 

•270    Sleep,    Leinoiri.-s   Vi.  w  of  the  ri,yM..!.-:.n 
-3  I  at,d  IVv.  !io!,^t:y  of 

4  I  Smith.  Svdh.> ■      ■■ 

5  i  ori.-inates  the  K  liiib.,r.-1.  t:.■^  I -iv 

rt  I  lectures  on  Moral  I'l.i! phv 

■  ohtaiii*  I  h'.r  li  pr.f.nn.Tit.  

■,  bin  peculiar  cliarael.ristlci   

•.  hi-;  re:i_'i'e:s  .Mi  ir.ii-l.  r 


27S 


656  INDEX. 

Sooral.-'S  in  rohtioii  to  lop'c:il  fcier.cc.  ..r.iff.-  .'■•.'l  '  Tmrts  usefulness  of.  in  pasan  lauds Page    24 

SoiiinanibiiliMn '■  ■   1  tT  ; ,  llannali  More's  series  of I.'} 

Sondiora  Cross  and  Soutliirn  C.-o-.vn IM    Trci^t'h  o.n  lhe>l+f«e:»'S 290 

Epriug"s   Contrast   botweoa  Good  and  Bad         ;  Turkey.  Russian  demands  on 55 

Men 1.'j9    ,  rupture  betiveen  tlie  two  [ioncr> CO 

Sqn iter's  Notes  on  Central  An^eriea SH  I ,  tre.irv  of.  witli  EiiL-'a-id  ,'iiid  France.  ..  (iO 

S:.  Iii;,dri-'sT!.eory  of  N:,t;irnl  iiblory....   15o  ;  Tur-.  i  •  ■     •                     '■     .    i^ 5P.) 

^t.'ve-!-'- (Jreat  J:--ftinn ' ".i:j  i 1'               -■                    ^ L';i3 

Stra-.vl.ria_-e,    Koberc.    tlie    lirst    Motlu.dist         | '     ■     .        i.                 -^..^ t'?(i 

T.iv:n-!.eTin  Aineriea 4:;5,  4:57  ; C-  ::::l:  i    .uv  ,  .,  il/  ;.:ws vyy 

St-ick:all.i•^  History  of  the  Bible  S.ci.-ty. ...  C41  : 

—  I'i":  eers  of  tlio  West 4'.i;l  ,  University  Life  and  University  lleform  in 

I)i.,-,,i,r-.'  on  Sane! irii-af inn i-7  i      Kru'Iand '270 

Univeriities  of  Germany SuS 


Strwi,   ■    1  'i: .-h-M  Table frW  1 

!•   ■       I:     -:■:.  O, ,■-:„■]< ^flA  |  Van  SantfoordV Discourses C4G 

Stlir:' ,-  1     ■   •   ,    •   :v  lu  I);;nic!.    '.".li  I  Vicars.  Capt.,  Memoirs  of. 4sT 

—  o-i  I'l    \i(  ~  ;:i.'(l  Kccle.-iajtes 292  '  Vietorv  Won.  the 4'J6 

on  l:oiii:;ns 291",  ;  Virgil,  Davidson's 10:i 

Siveil'i!,  r<-!L-i  )i!^  iiiovef.ient  in 4'i0  i 

Systtnu^-.iL:  J'.eUeu.enee— I'rizo  Kssavs oVi    "Wnkelcy'.s  Heroes  of  Mctbodisiti 047 

i  AVa!ker"s  God  r.evealed  in  Creation 164 

Teaeh(r,  living-,  power  of  tlie 1A  '  AVatson,  Rev.  i;.,  on  Divine  prace 2P.5 

Tid.rs"s  llistorv  of  the  Consulate  and  Kiiipiro  20'.)  i .on  reprobation 2C7  . 

Tholuek's  Coiiiroentaries 2!).',  !  "U'ebb,  Cajitain 443 

Thompson's  Cliristian  Theism Ifi:!  j  Wesley,  bis  life  yet  to  be  written 1(9 

Thomson's  n>savs.Educatio:ial  arid  I'.eltKious  :;i3  > ,  his  doctrine  of  grace 2C3 

Tlinevdides  Dale's ".I'i  ,  "Weslevan  MetliodisLii  on  the  Contrletou  Cir- 

ToniJs's  P;i';;ur.a  I.'.i'.                cuit ." 64=^ 

ToniM  .".n  I  tlie  Friendiv  Islands ;31>5  '  "Western  B.<rder  Life 64t> 

Tract  Mnveinent,  the.' 0  '  White".'  Great  Question «U 

c,,pv  !•,.<,  th-  eariieit 13  ;  Williams's  Discourse  on  Aiissions 496 

^,.,;  :  -.  l;  'i.-i.-irs,  ori-Tin  of  th-' 14     AVil-.nn's  i.l.)  Uiafarian  Frineiplr?  Confirmed  b'lT 

S  .  :       .    ■.;,.     ;,  in   l^     Wilson's    l:.  A.    Mexieo  an  1  her  Kelicion ..  ioS 

• .■               -           .    r,iq.ti-t-< 1.^1  '  Wi;i>h,w'snii:hbar.l)  Moral  I'hilosophy...  64-2 

—  ■]                      •    ,    I'lv-hvt.ri.ins lo  I  Winslow's(Mvron)lliiitson  Mis^ions 404 

—  <.:■       1    -  •,    •      :  Kpi<e  j.ai  (.'hurch H".  |  Wi.se's  Convert's  Counschor 492 

.;■       ;;      -■.;  Dutr-h  Church 10  j Defence  of  Methodism 1C4 

^                          M    I'.  Church,  .<outh...  10     Woedbrid-e's  Autobio-rapliy  of  a  BlindMiii- 

Tra.-'  -     •     .  .  -    :'  ■-■  .M.  )■:.  >.  hiirclr,  ori-in  of    17               ister ; . .  . .  T C4S 

.  it<  v.-  i'l  .'li/.aMon IS  I  Wood's  Modern  Plliirims 310 

,  what  h  h.,-  ;;.T..iuf,;i-lied 19  |  Woodwortb's  Selection  from  the  Pcebs o2') 

,  ext.ul  nfit^ 'h'll  i.riabour -..  21  I 

,  !...>-i^-.  ,  t •■!i..n 2o  i  Vuun-'s  Christ  of  Ilistorv 153 

,    ;/  ,    ,        ■,..       r   ,•,       ., W,    I 

—  !:,      ;                    v'v oil  iXenophon,  Watson's ICo 

Trac-  !  -      :  '  ^       -   Ueforintrs 13 

b^  Mr.  \',e>;e.v  10  IZwinide,  Ilottinger's  Life  of C47 


i    |5ii