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THE

NORTH AMERICAN

REVIEW.

VOL. LXXXVIII.

Tros Tyriusque mihi nullo discrimine agetur.

BOSTON:
CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY,

117 Wasiiinotok Stkekt.
18 5 9.

f i

A./7^

Entered according to Act of C

CR08BT, Nichols,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Co

C AM BB
WELCH, BIGELOW, 4 CO., PRi;

CONTENTS

No. CLXXXIL

Abt. Paoi

I. Canonical Compurgation and the Wager of

Battle 1

Etudes Historiques sor les D^veloppements de la
Soci4t6 Humaine. Far M. Louis J. Koenigswarter.

n. The Mount Vernon Memorial 52

Honor to the Illustrious Dead. A Lecture in Behalf
of the Mount Vernon Association, delivered in the State
Capitol, Nashville, Wednesday, Decemher 4, 1857. By
Richard Owen, M. D.

JJL Edmund Burke 61

1. History of the Life and Times of Edmund Burke.
By Thomas Macknight.

2. The Works and Correspondence of Iji 3 Right Hon-
orable Edmund Burke.

IV. Life and Writings op De Quincet 113

Writings of Thomas De Quincet.

V. Abelard 182

1. Abelard. Par Charles de R^musat.

2. Die Kirche Christi und ihre Zeugen oder die Eir-
chengeschichte in Biographien, durch Friedrich Boh-

RINGER.

VI. Thompson's History op Boston 16G

The History and Antiquities of Boston, and the Vil-
lages of Skirbeck, Fishtoft, Freiston, Butterwick, Ben-
ington, Leverton, Leake, and Wrangle; comprising the
Hundred of Skirbeck, in the County of Lincoln. By
PisHEY Thompson.

Vn. Bible Revision 184

1. Hints for some Lnprovements in the Authorized
Version of the New Testament By the late Rev. James

ScnOLEFIELD, M. A.

2. On the Authorized Version of the New Testament,

11 CONTENTS.

in Connection with some recent Proposals for its Reyision.
By Richard Chenevix Teench, D. D.

3. The Gospel according to St. John, after the Author-
ized Version. Newly compared with the Original Greek,
and revised. By Five Clergymen.

4. The Epistle of Paul to the Romans, after the Author-
ized Version. Newly compared with the Original Greek,
and revised. By Five Clergymen.

5. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St.
Paul's Epistle to the Gralatians, with a Revised Transla-
tion. By C. J. Elucott, M. A.

6. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St.
Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians, with a Revised Transla-
tion. By the same.

7. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on the
Pastoral Epistles, with a Revised Translation. By the
same.

8. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St.
Paul's Epistles to the Philippians, Colossians, and to
Philemon, with a Revised Translation. By the same.

9. The Book of Job ; the Common English Version,
the Hebrew Text, and the Revised Version of the Ameri-
can Bible Union, with Critical and Philological Notes.

10. The Epistles of Paul to the Thessalonians ; trans-
lated from the Greek, on the Basis of the Common Eng-
lish Version, with Notes.

VIII. Contemporary French Literature 210

1. Les Lionnes Pauvres. Par Emile Angier,

2. Fanny. Par Ernest Feydeau.

3. L'Assassinat du Pont Rouge. Par Charles Bar-
bara.

4. Italia. Par Theophile Gautier.

5. La Mode. Par Theophile Gautier.

6. La Clef du Grand Cyrus. Par M. Victor Cousin.

7. Essais Morales et Historiques. Par Emile Mon-
t^gut.

IX. Thompson's Lhe of Stoddard 228

^Memoir of Rev. David Tappan Stoddard, Missionary
to the Nestorians. By Joseph P. Thompson, D. D.

X. White's Shakespeare 244

The Works of William Shakespeare. Edited by
Richard Grant White.

XL Critical Notices 253

Nkw Publications Received 283

NORTH AMERICAN REYIEW.

No. CLXXXIL

JANUARY, 1869.

Art. I. — Etudes Hisloriques sur les Developpements de la
SociSt^ Humaine. Par M. Louis J. Koenigswarter, Doc-
teur en Droit, Membre Correspondant de I'Institui, etc.
Paris. 1850. 8vo. pp.237.

This has narrowly missed being an instructive and enter-
taining book. The subjects are interesting ; they are handled
with a certain degree of skill, and the author displays consid-
erable research ; but his limits are too restricted jfor a due
development of his matter, his illustrative facts are few and
selected with little judgment, and the execution of his plan
falls far short of its conception. Taking as a text several re-
markable points in the dawn of modern civilization, he makes
it his leading object to show that these are not confined to
the nations of Teutonic and Celtic descent, but that they have
their origin in the immutable elements of human nature, and
that vestiges of them are to be found in the early records of all
the great races. The idea is worthy of more elaborate treat-
ment than it has received at the hands of M. Konigswarter,
but, like many other generalizations concerning human affairs,
it is not susceptible of proof in all its ramifications. In vari-
ous particulars the author therefore fails in his attempt, while
in those in which his theory is true, his proofs are by no means
as complete as they might have been made. His accuracy,
also, is sometimes more than questionable. Thus, where, on
the same page, we find Ossian gravely quoted as an historical

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182. 1

CANONICAL COMPURGATION

authority, and the speech of Achilles over the body of Pa
clas placed in the mouth of Hector, we feel the necessity of
verifying for ourselves all the facts advanced, and all the
citations on which the arguments are based* Nor is this
necessity diminished by observing that in many debatable
questions the author takes the wrong side, guided apparently
by the opinions of previous writers^ rather than by a fall and
frequent reference to the original muniments, which are alone
to be relied on as regards points of legal and political archae-
ology.

Apart from the exact sciences, there is no subject which
more interesting, or which more fully repays the student, th
the history of jurisprudence. When Austin Caxton devo
the labor of a lifetime to the " History of Human Errori
had for his theme the sorrows and the weaknesses of
kind from the birth of time ; but more vast and inst
would be a history of the laws under which man has
and died, each unit of the race struggling on his allot te
through joys and griefs fashioned for the most part by
visible network of habits, castome*, and statutes, whic
round him on every side, and silently shape his daily i
To the reflecting mind few popular quotations are
tially false, or reveal so narrow a view of human a:
often cited lines, —

" How small, of all lha.1 human hearts endure,
That jari which lawa or kings can 0Au»e or ci

Slender though the respect may be with which
rotatory assemblymen and our partisan judgeSj
noteworthy personages. The parts are m'
the actors, and centuries hence it will be
reports that the curious historian will resort
manner of men were ihii restless and energi
« could found a gigantic empire, but could hi
selves* Lawgiver and law-dispenser, — sa'
God, what human being can have intei
to him, or can exercise so momentoui
fcUow-mcn ? Cyrus and Alexandert Tami
Khan, — their names alone remain, and
tbe^ bad never beeu; but the lawa uf

re M

ram?

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 3

of Mahomet and Justinian, sway the destinies of races, for
ages past and to conme. When Arogast and Bodogast, Sa-
logast and Windagast, assembled to draft into shape the rude
customs of a roving and predatory tribe, they little thought
that the Salique law which they founded would still, after
the lapse of fourteen centuries, leave its impress on the na-
tions subject to the spiritual power of that imperial Rome,
the terror of whose name they were then just beginning to
throw off. But codes are thus endowed with vitality only
when they reflect the nature and the usages of the races for
which they are compiled. The man and his law exercise a
mutual reaction, and in the one we see an image of the other.
The stern, resolute brevity of the Laws of the Twelve Tables
furnishes the best corrective commentary on the easy credu-
lity of Livy ; making due allowance for divine inspiration, we
see in the code of Moses the Hebrew character and polity
portrayed in the strongest light and shade ; and, in general,
the historian who wishes to obtain or to convey a definite im-
pression of a nation or of a period, must have recourse to the
laws which regulated the daily life of the people, and which
present, so to speak, an epitome of their character and actions.
With this conviction, we have thought that it might not be
without interest and profit to trace, in the dim light of an-
tiquity, some rude outlines of the customs of the wild races
that founded the European commonwealths.

In the German forests, Tacitus presents to us the picture
of tribes living principally on the spoils of war or of the chase,
aided by the imperfect agriculture of their slaves. Personal
independence is carried to its extreme. The authority of the
ruler, except when commanding a military expedition, is al-
most nominal, and scarcely extends beyond his immediate
attendants, companions, or leaders. Each petty chief is un-
der the control of the assembly of his sept, in which all the
freemen gather in arms, and decide without appeal on all
common interests. Dearest among their privileges is the right
of private vengeance. The freeman who sustains an injury,
and disdains to summon his enemy before the mallum^ or ju-
dicial assembly of his tribe, may call together his family and
friends, and exact what satisfaction he can with sword and

4 CAKONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

axe. The intermuiable warfare of hostile families is, however,
in most cases, obviated by the principle of compensation for
injuries, and every crime is rated at its appropriate price,
which, on due proof being offered to the satisfaction of the
judge, is paid to the injured party. As his relatives were
bound to aid him in the quarrel, so are they entitled to share
in the wehr-geld^ or compensation. On the other hand, the
criminal's family are held responsible for the fine, if poverty
renders him unable to meet it, as are they also forced to defend
him in the fray, if the peaceable mode of settlement be rejected.
As regards the rest of the community, each family is thus a
unit, directly responsible for the conduct of its members, the
whole body sharing in the good or evil fortune of the individ-
ual. It is important to bear in mind this peculiarity, which
explains much that is otherwise singular in the subsequent
legislation of the Franks, leaving its traces late in the feudal
law.

The oldest known text of the Salique law is but little if
at all posterior to the conversion of Clovis to Christianity.
Four hundred years have therefore intervened between the
vigorous sketches of Tacitus, and the less picturesque, but
more detailed, view presented by this primitive code. The
changes produced in the interval are wonderfully small. A
more complex state of society has arisen ; government has
assumed some power and stability under the iron energy and
resistless craft of Clovis ; fixed property and possessions have
acquired importance; fields and orchards, gardens and bee-
hives, mills and boats, appear as objects of value alongside of
the herds and weapons which were the sole attractions when
the Roman historian condescended to describe his barbarian
neighbors. But the fundamental principles are the same, and
the relations of the individual to his fellows remain unchanged.
The right of private warfare still exists. The state is still an
aggregate of families, rallying together for the field and for the
court, and to sustain any of their members by force of arms,
or by the course of justice. The forms of procedure are re-
vealed to us, and we learn the efforts made to soften the native
ferocity of the Frank, and the modes by which he is tempted
to forego the privilege of revenge. Every offence against

1859.] AND THB WAGER OF BATTLE. 5

persons or property is rated at its appropriate price, and a
complete tariff of crime is drawn up, from the theft of a
sucking-pig to the armed occupation of an estate, and from
the wound of the little finger to the most atrocious of parri-
cides ; nor can the offender refuse to appear when duly sum-
moned before the mallum, or claim the right of violent defence
if the injured party has recourse to peaceable proceedings.

But between the commission of an offence and its proof in
a court of justice there lies a wide field for the exercise of
human ingenuity. The subject of evidence is one which has
tasked man's powers of reasoning to the utmost, and the
subtile distinctions of the Roman law, with its probatio, prce-
sumptio juriSy pnssumptio juris tarUum^ — the endless refine-
ments of the renaissance doctors, rating evidence in its different
grades as probatio optima, evidentissima, apertissima, legitimay
sufficiens, indvbitata, dilucida, liquida, evidenSj perspicua, and
semiplenaj — and the complicated rules of procedure which be-
wilder the modern legal student, — all alike show the impor-
tance of the subject and its extreme difficulty. The semi-
barbarous Frank, impatient of such expenditure of logic,
arrived at results by a shorter and more direct process. Some
writers assume that the unsupported oath of the accused was
originally sufficient to clear him of a charge, and they present
an attractive fancy-sketch of the heroic times when a lie is
cowardice, and the fierce warrior disdains to shrink from the
consequences of his acts.* An assertion so improbable de-

* It maj not be anintercsting to cast a rapid glance at the early legislation of
Asia with regard to the judicial use of the oath. The laws of Menou regard it as a
satisfactory mode of proof, and authorize its employment in these terms : —

" And in cases where there is no. testimony, and the judge cannot decide upon
which side lies the truth, he can determine it fully by administering the oath.

" Oaths were sworn by the seven great Richis, and by the gods, to make doubtful
things manifest ; and even Vasichtha sware an oath before the king Sond&m&, son
of Piyavana, when Visw&mitra accused him of eating a hundred children.

" Let not the wise man take an oath in vain, even for things of little weight ; for
he who takes an oath in vain is lost in this world and the next.

" Let the judge swear the Brahmin by his truth ; the Kchatriya, by his horses,
his elephants, or his arms ; the Vaisya, by his cows, his com, and his gold ; the
Sottdra, by all crimes." — Laws of Menou, Book VIII. v. 109, 110, 1 1 1, 1 13. (From
Delongchamp*s translation.)

The Chinese, on the other hand, in their primitiye legislation, admitted no evi-

CANONICAL COMPDRQATIOH

fJl

maiidd competent proof, and proof of it there is none in
of the " Leges Barbarorum.'' That some forms of oath
regarded with veneration there is no doubt, and isolated la*
fltances might be cited in which they were received. 1W|
the holy Gregory of Tours was cited for reproachful w<
truly spoken of the infamona Fredegonda, and her fetoaU
husband, King ChilperiCj pressed the accusation with the
energy of his revengeful nature, all that such formidable
versaries could obtain from a council of bishops wa», that tbe
accused should relieve himself of the charge by oath on thiee
altars, after celebrating mass on each, — a solemnity which
was performed accordingly, doubtless more to the corporeal
tban spiritual health of the future saint; and two ceot
rics later, in the presence of Charlemagne, Pope L#eo
cleared himself by the same ceremony from an accusatil
arising from the factions into which Rome was divided,
whole body of ecclesiastics having declared that the pap
dignity should not be compromised by his submitting to
examination/ These^ however, were exceptional cases, whi

deuce of the kind, and in doubtful ciisei directed the aeqmtul of the nceused.
Mott-v3Dg (about 1000 B, C), m the ChotJ-Kinir, Part IV. Chap, XXVII. |
instructs the judges : '* Wh^rc iht^rc la doubt ia the coses subject to the tive pi
bhmcnts, and in those admitting of composiuon, you shall pardon. .... Thou
mm\j aecuiations arc proved^ you &hall yet exumiDe the appeamncea and the :
tires, and that which can h<i neither examioed nor proved shall not be prosccat
Euter not then into any discussion, bat fear the wrath and the power of Hear
(From Gaubifs lrant»lation.)

The Koran, considered as a system of jurispnideDcei is sin^arly dcstttate
instrnctions for legal procedures. Chap. XXIV. t. 6 - 9^ however, directs that «
husband accusing bis wife of infidelity, and having no witnesses* shall prove it by
swearing to the truth of the change five tiracSi invoking the malediction of God
upon himself, — the wife being able to rebut the accusatloTi by a similar process j
but as this chapter was revealed to the Prophet after he had writhed for a month
under fin accnsation broaght agniost his favorite wife Aycsha, — an accusatioti
which he could not disregard, but did not wish to entertain, — the law is to be coti-
side red as ex p<^ facto, rather than cli signalizing any pre-existing custom.

All of these three Eastern codes present evidence more or less strong of the sys-
tem of composition for crimes, or wehr^g^^ which forms fo conspicuous a portion
uf the ciirly European legislation. The striking corrcspondcnc© which exists in
many points hctweeti the " Lcijes Baibarorum ** and the laws of Menou — per-
haps the most curious monument of human jurispmdcnoe — is a subject of the

gbc<t interest, and worthy of an extended myestigatioD.
^# Ar.n*i i'uldmucs^ aon* 000.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 7

were especially reserved from the ordinary tribunals and from
the regular procedure, and even in these we find evidence
that the unsupported oath was not sufficient, without some
guaranty thrown around it, — some formula of religion or
law to give it weight. The whole history and legislation of
those times abound with facts to prove that perjury was the
most common of the crimes against which legislators had to
guard, and that the accessories of the oath were looked upon
as the main thing, — not the oath itself. Thus, in 680, ac-
cording to Fredegarius, Ebroin, Mayor of the Palace of Bur-
gundy, having defeated Martin, Duke of Austrasia, and
wishing to entice him out of his strong-hold of Laon, sent
to him by two bishops the royal reliquaries, on which the
envoys swore that his life should be safe ; but the cunning
Mayor, having astutely removed the relics from their cases in
advance, considered it a venial crime to put his enemy to
death as soon as he was in his power. Three centuries and
a half later. King Robert the Pious manifested an equally
just idea of the nature of perjury, when, as related by the
worthy monk Helgaldus, who is delighted with the expedient,
he endeavored to save the souls of his friends by constructing
two reliquaries, on which he received their oaths, — one for
his magnates, splendidly fabricated of crystal and gold, but
entirely empty, — the other for the common herd, plainer, and
enshrining a bird's-egg. Knowing in advance that his lieges
would be forsworn, he charitably sought to save them from
sin in spite of themselves. All the chronicles and all the
codes tell us the same tale, and the Emperor Lothaire L
only embodied the general impression of the uselessness
of simple oaths when he issued a constitution prohibiting
their administration in tithe 'cases on account of the risk of
perjury. " Juramento vero," he crudely says, "eos constringi
nolumus propter periculum perjurii.'' * We doubt not that in
his day Hatto, Archbishop of Mayence, was looked upon as
unnecessarily squeamish when he employed an ingenious

* Lex Longobard. Lib. IIL Tit. III. ^ 10. — As there are yariotis editions of
these laws, differing in their arrangement, we may as well premise that onr refer-
ences are to the Collection of Lindenbrog, Frankfort, 1613.

CANONICAL COMPURGATION

[Jaii,^H

fraud to put an end, in 906, to the Feud of Baii»berg, which
had desolated Germany for several years. King Ludwig-da&-
Kind, the last of the German Carlovingiana, having been
utterly unable to repress ** tarn in gens helium inter eminentes
viros," Hatto volunteered his services to entice the victorious
Albert of Bamberg, ancestor of the ducal house of Austria,
io a shameful death. Paying him, therefore, a friendly visit,
the Archbishop urged him to seek an interview with the king,
whom he represented as most favorably disposed, and solemnly
swore to bring him back safe to his castle. On his departure
Albert accompanied his guest beyond the walls^ when Hatto,
taking him by the hand, complained of hunger, and asked to
return for a repast. Still keeping his grasp, they re-entered,
and after refreshment Hatto again departed. His oath had
been fulfilled^ he had brought Albert back safely to bis fortress,
and when the lord of Bamberg sought his sovereign and was
hurriedly executed, Hatto considered himself exempt from
responsibility,*

The romantic theories of the purity of the wild Salian free-
booters being evidently baseless, it will readily be believed
that the energetic Frank who was clamoring for the restitu-
tion of stolen cattle, or a body of relatives eager to share the
wehr-geld of some murdered kinsman, would scarcely submit
to be balked of their rights at the simple cost of perjury to
the criminal; and as the object of their legislators was to
diminish as much as possible the exercise of the right of pri-
vate warfare, some expedient was requisite, in doubtful cases,
to conciliate the parties. From this necessity arose the re-
markable custom of canonical compurgation. The accused,
when denying the allegation under oath, appeared surrounded
by a number of conjurators, — Juraiores^ conjuratores^ sacra-
mentales, collaudantes^ compurgator es^ as they are variously
termed, — who swore, not to their know^ledge of the facts,
bat as sharers and partakers in the oath of denial Their
number "^as regulated by law, and varied with the magnitude
of the objects at stake, or the heinousness of the alleged
crime, and, among some tribes, with the rank of the parties.

• Loitpriwd. Antapod. Lib. II. e. 6. Marijuitu Scotue, ann/SOB.

1859,]

AND THB WABHR OF BAWtE.

This curious form of procedure derives an importance from
the fact^ that it is an expression of the character, not of an
isolated sept, but of nearly all the races that have moulded
the history of Europe. The Wisigoths of the South of
France and Spain, who early adopted the "Roman law and
moulded it to suit their habits, were the only nation in whose
code it did not occupy a prominent place, and with them the
oath of the defendant was admitted as satisfactory^ in the
absence of other testimony/ On the other hand, the Salians,t
the Ripuarians, the Alamanni, the Baioarians, the Burgiin-
dians, the Lombards, the Frisians, the Saxons, the Angli and ,
Werini, the Anglo-Saxons, and the Welsh, races springing
from different origins, all gave to this form of compurgation a
prominent place in their jurisprudence, and it reigned supreme
from Southern Italy to the Trent, and from the Loire to Cen-
tral Germany. During these early periods it was a special
favorite with the Church, and was honored with the name of
jmrgatio canonical nor, when compared with the ruder and
more mischievous ordeal and wager of battle, can we wonder
that it should have obtained the ecclesiastical preference. In
the sixth century, we find St. Gregory the Great ordering its
employment in cases where husband and wife desired to deny
the consummation of marriage* J In more enlightened times,
however, the Church became actively opposed to it, and, as
we shall see, was efficient in its abrogation.

Perhaps its influence on the history and habits of the people
may best be illustrated by one or two examples* When Chil»
peric L was assassinated in 584, grave doubts were suggested

* L. Wisigoth. Lib. II. TiL II. ^ 5,

t Montesquiea (Esprit des Loix, Lib. XXVIII, Chtp, XIU.)* ^i^^ almost in*
credible eup^jrficialLty^ sfiscrts ihat canooical compurgfttion w«i» rniknown to the
Saliqae law, and from this assertion he proceeds to draw the most extensive de-
ductions. Altliotigh it is referred to but twice in the Lex Emendaia of Charle-
magne (Tit. L. and LV,), still those references are of a nature to show that it was
habitQaUy practUed^ while the earlier text£, snch as that of Herold^ which In the
edition of Eccordus was accessible to Montesquien, contain procise directions for i\>
use, designating the conjurator by the title of Thalapta, Even ¥rithout this, how-
eyor, the Meroiringian and Carlovingian Capitalaries, the Formulary of ^Marculftis,
and the History of Gregory of Tonrs, should have preserved him from so gross an
error.

X "Uterijue eornm scptima mann propinqnomm jaret i^Qod nimqimtn camariter
oonvcncrunt.'^ (Ap. Spdman.)

CAIfOJTICAL COMPURGATION

[Jan J

as to the legitimacy of his son Clotaire, an infant of four
months, — doubts which neither the character of the child's
mother, Queen Fredegonda, nor the rumors which circulated
as to the manner in which Chilperic had been slain, had any
tendency to lessen; and King Goritran, brother of the mur-
dered king, did not hesitate to express his opinion that the
royal infant's paternity was traceable to some one of the min-
ions of the court,— " sed, ut credo, alicujus ex leudibus nostris
sit &lius.*' Satisfactory evidence in such cases is proverbially
hard to obtain ; but Fredcgonda cleared her somewhat battered
reputation, and secured the throne to her offspring, by appear-
ing at the altar with three bishops and three hundred nobles,
who all swore with her to the legitimacy of the little prince,
and no further doubts were ventured on the delicate subject,
— "et sic suspicio ab animis Regis ablata est."* As at this
juncture Fredegonda was powerless, and Gontran directly in-
terested in disinheriting the child, the ceremony was not an
empty pageant nor a political demonstration, but an expres-
sion of the national customs in their most solemn form. An-
other equally striking illustration occurs at a later period,
when^ in 823, Pope Pascal I. was more than suspected of
complicity in the murder of Theodore and Leo, two high dig-
nitaries of the papal court. The commisBioners sent by Louis
le D<5bonnaire to investigate the facts, found on their arrival
that Pascal had hastily purged himself of the crime, in antici-
pation of their coming, by an oath taken with a number of
bishops as his compurgators ; and though the assumed fault
of the victims had been their attachment to the imperial party,
and though the Pope had by force of arms prevented any pur-
suit of the murderers, there was nothing further to be done*
Pope Pascal stood before the world an innocent man.f

The origin of this custom is to be traced to the principle of
tbe unity of families. As the offender could summon his kin-
dred around hira, to resist the attack of the injured party, so
he took them with him to the court, to defend him with their
oaths^ — a service not without danger, for, if the defence were
subsequently proved false, they w^ere liable to the penalties of

4
I

* Greg* TuTOO. Lib, Vm. cap, 9.

t Eginhard. Aaiml., ann. 823.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 11

perjury. By a constitution of Pepin, king of Italy, they were
punished with the loss of a hand, unless they could establish
by ordeal that they had sworn in ignorance of the facts.* By
the Salique law they were heavily fined, f Among the Frisi-
ans, each had to buy himself off by the amount of his own
wehr-geld, — the value of his own head. { Accordingly, we
find that the service was usually performed by the kindred,
and in some of the earlier codes this is prescribed, § but not
universally. It was a duty enjoined on the family, but, as
s6me tribes exacted very large numbers of conjurators for the
acquittal of certain crimes, the necessity of finding strangers
to assume the office is evident, as is shown in the case of
Queen Fredegonda, quoted above. Perhaps the possibility
of obtaining those not bound by family ties to undertake the
office, is traceable to the liability which rested on a township
in some instances for crime committed within its borders.
M. Konigswarter rejects this supposition as inadmissible,
saying that the Friborgs of Edward the Confessor, long pos-
terior to the period under consideration, are the earliest in-
stance of such institutions. But traces of communal societies
are to be found in the original texts of the Salique law,|| sup-
posed to be coeval with Clovis ; and Childebert, in an edict
of 595, holds the hundreds or townships responsible for rob-
beries committed within their limits.^

When calling in conjurators who were not kinsmen of the
parties, it is not to be supposed that our ancestors were as

* Capit. Pepini, ann. 793, § 15. (Balazc.)

t L. Salica, Tit. L. ^ 3, 4. . | L. Frisonnm, Tit. X.

§ L. Longobard. Lib. II. Tit XXI. § 9 ; L. Bargund, Tit. VIII.; and the Decre-
tal of Gregory mentioned above. It is interesting to trace the Komanizing tenden-
cies of the civil and canon law in modifying the original customs of the barbarians.
Even this deep! j-rooted principle of the unity of families gave way before such influ-
ences, and as early as the ninth century we find the Carlovingian legislation (Capi-
tul. Benedict. Levit. Lib. VI. cap. 348) going to the other extreme, by prohibiting
kinsmen from giving evidence in a cause between a relative and a stranger, — a
provision borrowed from the Wisigoths (L. Wisigoth. Lib. IL Tit. IV. cap 12).
The rule, once established, maintained its place through the vicissitudes of the
feudal law (Beaumanoir, Coutumes du Beauvoisis, Cap. XXXIX. § 38), down to a
late period, in the Droit Contumier (Coutumes de Bretagnc, Tit. VIII. Art 161, 162).

II L. Salic. Tit XIV. De Migrantibus. MS. 4404, Anc. Fonds, Bib. Roy. (Par-
dessus.)
T Decret Childeberti, ann. 595, Cap. X. (Baluze.)

12 CANONICAL COMPUROATION [Jan.

culpably negligent as we are as to the character of juries to
whom are intrusted the lives and fortunes of their fellow-citi-
zens. Various regulations existed with regard to the mode
by which they were admitted to the oath, differing with the
race and period. Thus, among the Alamanni, in a trial for
murder, the accused was obliged to secure the support of
twenty chosen men, or, if he brought such as he selected him-
self, the number was increased to eighty.* In England, in
some cases, fourteen men were named to the defendant, out
of whom he had to find eleven willing to take the oath with
him.f The Frisians required that the compurgators should
be of the same class as their principal, and the lower his posi-
tion in the state, the larger was the number requisite.^ Some
formulsB of Marculfus specify three freeholders and twelve
friends of the defendant as necessary.^ A Merovingian edict
of 593 directs the employment of three equals of the accused,
with three others chosen for the purpose, probably by the
court. II . In a capitulary of 803, Charlemagne prescribes seven
chosen conjurators, or twelve if taken at random.^ Louis le
Debonnaire decided that freemen owning no property were
ineligible as witnesses, though capable of appearing as com-
purgators.** Among the Burgundians, the wife and children,

♦ L. Alaman. Tit. LXXVI.

t "Nominentur ci XIV., et adqairat XI., ct ipse sit duodecimus." — L. Catiati,
Cap. 66. In this form it practically amonnts to trial by jury, and there is more
probability in the belief that the origin of the jary trial is to be found in this regula-
tion, than in many more ingenious surmises which have been hazarded upon the
subject.

I L. Friiiion. Tit. I. This system of estimating the value of the oath by the po-
sition of the swearer is not nnfrequent Perhaps the laws o*' Canute, Cap. 127, ex-
press it more rudely than elsewhere, in specifying that the oath of a freeman is worth
that of seven villains : — " Sacramentnm libcralis hominis, quem quidem vocant
twd/hfijideman, debet stare et valere juramentum septem villanorum." The twelf-
hcndeman meant a man whose price was 1200 solidi. So thoroughly was the cus-
tom of wehr-geld or composition established, that in England classes were named
according to the value of their heads. Thus the villain or cfierleman was also called
troyhindas or troyhindeman^ his wehr-geld being 200 solidi ; the radcniht (road-knight,
or mounted follower) was a sexhendeman ; and, as we have seen, the comparative
judicial weight of the oaths of the respective classes followed a similar rule.

§ " Insequentur vero post ipso tres alvarii et duodccim conlaadantes jurayerant."
— Mrtrculf. App. XXXII. See also Ibid. XXIX.

!! Pactus pro Tenore Pacis, Cap. VI. (Baluze )

? Capit. Carol. Mag. IV. ann. 803, S X. (Baluze.)

♦♦ Capit. Ludov. Pii, ann. 829, Tit. III. ^ VL (Baluze.)

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 13

or, in their absence, the father and mother, of the accused were
expected to make up the requisite number of twelve.* Char-
lemagne, however, objects to this, as leading to the swearing
of children of tender and irresponsible age ; and he further
interdicts those who have once been convicted of perjury from
again appearing as either witnesses or conjurator8.f A for-
mula of Marculfus proves that females were admitted when a
woman was accused,:]: and M. Konigswarter informs us that
among the Welsh the same privilege was allowed the sex,
while under the Lombard laws slaves and women in tutelage
were often employed.

Variations are likewise observable in the form of adminis-
tering the oath. Among the Alamanni, for instance, the com-
purgators laid their hands upon the altar, and the principal
placed his hand over the others, repeating the oath alone, §
while, among the Lombards, a law of the Emperor Lothaire
directs that each shall take the oath separately. || It was
always administered, however, in a consecrated place, before
delegates appointed by the judges trying the cause, some-
times on the altar, and sometimes on relics. A formula of
Marculfus specifies the Capella Sancti Martini, or cope of St.
Martin,^ one of the most valued of the relics in the royal
chapel, whence we may conclude that it was habitually used
for that purpose in the business of the royal Court of Appeals.

There has been much discussion as to the exact nature and
the legal weight of this mode of establishing innocence, or
vindicating disputed rights. M. Konigswarter assumes, that
in the early period, before the ferocious purity of the German
character had been adulterated with the remains of Roman
civilization, this form of compurgation was used in all descrip-
tions of cases at the option of parties, and was in itself a full
and satisfactory proof, received on all hands as equal to any
other. This view, we are confident, is erroneous. The eariiest
written evidence is against it, corroborated by all subsequent
indications; and, for anterior periods, there is nothing but

♦ L. Burgund. Tit. VIII.

t Capit Carol Mag. I. ann. 789, ^ LXU. (Balnze.)

t Marculf. App. XXXIV. § L. Alaman. Tit. VI.

II L. Longobard. Lib. II. Tit. LV. f 28. t Marculf. Lib. L Form. XXXVIII.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 2

14 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

mere conjecture. Tacitus is silent on the subject, and next to
him in point of time is the early text of the Salique law, to
which reference has already been made, hi this it is specified
that conjurators are to be offered only in cases where there is
no certain proof to be had;* and, unfortunately for our author's
theory, this direction disappears in subsequent revisions of the
law, in which the Romanizing and Christianizing influences
arc fully apparent^ — though we may safely assume from
other contemporary documents that the rule was preserved in
practice, and was omitted in the written law because taken
for granted. He might have quoted a passage from the Lex
Alamannorum, which would appear to support his theory in
crudely saying, '* Si quis hominem occiderit ct negare volu-
crit, cum duodecim nominatis juret" ; f but.it would not be
safe to assume from this, that a murderer could escape simply
by producing conjurators, for it is evidently only a careless
phrase, since another section of the same law expressly pro-
vides that, where a fact is proved by competent witnesses, the
deftmdant shall not have the power of producing compurga-
tors.J The Baioarian laws interpose a similar limitation.^
It is therefore evident, that in the earliest times recourse to
this mode of proof was an expedient adopted only in default
of more satisfactory evidence, and on this Jieccssity the ra-
chinborgs or judges probably decided. That it was so in sub-
sLMjuent periods is generally admitted, and it is hardly worth
our while to cite other proof than a capitulary of Louis Ic
Dubonnaire, in 819, to this effcct,|| and a law of the Emperor
Loihaire, promulgated not long afterward.^

* "Si qui-* hoininem injjenao plagiaverit, ct probatio certa non fait, sicut pro

Of ci^o jiinitorc ilonet. Si juratores non potncrit invcnire VIII M. den cul-

pahilis judicctur." — Tit. XXXIX. § 2. A similar provision occurs, Tit. XLII. § 5.
(Pardcssus.)

t L. Alarann. Tit. LXXXIX^

I Ibid. Tit. XLII.

^ "Xoc facile ad sacramenta veniatur In his vero causis sacramenta

prii'stentur in quibus nullam probationem discussio judiciintib invcnerit." — L. Baioar.
Tit. VIII. cap. 16.

; '* Si hiijus facti testes non habuerit cum dnodeciin conjnratoribus le<,Mtimis per
sacramcntum adfirmet," &c. — Capit. Lndov. Tii, I. ann. 819, 4 1.

•; '* Si testes habere non potcrit, conccdimus ut cum XII. juratoribus juret." —
L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. IX. ^ 38.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 16

As it is thus apparent that conjurators were brought for-
ward, not as witnesses, but merely as supporters of the de-
fendant, it seems at first sight a little unreasonable that they
should have been considered guilty of perjury, and subject to
its penalties, in case of sustaining the wrong side of a cause ;
and it is probably owing to this inconsistency that some writers
have denied their being involved in the guilt of their principal.
Among others, the learned Meyer has fallen into this error.*
We have already seen that the penalties provided for such
cases were those of perjury ; and if further proof be wanting,
it is supplied by a clause in the Lex Alamannorum, which
denies the privilege of canonical compurgation to any one
who has previously been convicted of crime more than once,
in order to save innocent persons from being involved with
him in the guilt of perjury, — " ut propter suam nequitiam alii
qui volunt Dei esse non se perjurent, nee propter culpam alie-
nam semetipsos perdant" f It is to be borne in mind, how-
ever, while criticising the hardships to which conjurators were
exposed, that the whole system was an absurdity, and that it
could be redeemed only by rendering the office one not to be
undertaken lightly. A man who was endeavoring to defend
himself from a charge of murder, or who desired to confirm
his possession of an estate against a competitor with a fair
show of title, was expected to produce guaranties that would
carry conviction to the minds of impartial men. As long as
the practice subsisted, it was therefore necessary to invest it
with solemnity, and to guard it with penalties that would
obviate some of its disadvantages. That its attendant evils
gradually became more apparent, we learn from a constitu-
tion of Otho II. in 983, abolishing the practice in cases of
contested estates, on account of the enormous perjury to which
it gave rise, and substituting the wager of battle. J The sys-
tem, however, had too deep a hold on the habits and modes of
thought of the people to be suddenly abolished, and a hundred
years later we find it in full vigor in the laws of William the
Conqueror and Henry I. of England. In the first half of the

* Institutions Judiciaires, I. 317. (Pardessus.)

t L. Alaman. Tit. XLII. § 1. J L. Longobard. Lib. H. Tit LV. ^ 34.

16 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

twelfth century, the laws of Scotland, attributed to David L,
furnish further proofs of its existence ; and in the latter half
of the same century, the Liber Feudorum, compiled by the
Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, provides that the holder of a
contested fief may, in default of other testimony, swear with
twelve conjurators that the estate has descended to him line-
ally* Nearly contemporary with this is Glanville's excellent
treatise " De Legibns Anglioe," the earliest satisfactory body
of legal procedure which the history of mediaeval jurispm-
dence affords. In this there is but little mention of the cus-
tom, but that little shows it still in existence, though much
circumscribed in use. A defendant who desired to deny the
serving of a writ, could swear to its non-reception with twelve
conjurators;! and a party to a suit, who had made an unfor-
tunate statement or admission in court, could deny it by-
bringing forward two to swear with him against the united
recollections and records of the whole court. J In both these
cases those who took the oath could in no sense be regarded
as witnesses, for the legal maxim that negatives are not sus-
ceptible of proof was fully understood and acted on at that
time. The Assises de Jerusalem remark, that " nul ne pent
fairc preuve de non," and Beaumanoir, in the Coutumes de
Beauvoisis, adduces ecclesiastical testimony to the same efTect:
" Li clerc si dient et il dient voir, ([ue negative ne doit pas
<|uevir en proeve."

At tliis period the custom is rapidly disappearing from the
statute-book. On the one hand the powerful influence of the

* " Si vcro proharc non potcrit proidicto modo, dabitur ci defcusio cum XXL
sacramcntalihus." (Spclman.)

t Glanvillc, Lib. I. Cap. IX. Also, Lib. L Cap. XVI., Lib. IX. Cap. L, Lib. X.
Cap. V.

t " In aliis cnim curiis si quis aliquid dixcrit imdc cnm pcenitacrit, poterit id
nc^arc rontra totam curiam tcrtia manu cum sacramcnto, id so non dixiszse affir>
mando." ((Jlanville, Lib. VIII. Ca]>. IX.) In the Assises de Jerusalem the same
lauilable object is attained by insisting; on the employment of lawyers, whose asser-
tions would not be binding on their princi])al:? : — " Kt por cc il deit estre lavantpar-
licr, car se lavantparlier dit parole <|uil ne doit dire por celuy cui il parole, celui por
•|ui il parlc et son conceau y pueent bicn amender ains que le ingement soit dit.
Mais t»c oelny de cui est li plais dL^eit parole ({ui li dcust tomer a damage, il ne la
peu<t torncr arieres puis quil la dite," etc. (Baissc Court, Cap. 133.) There is
something very amusing in the nairfU' of these unsophisticated modes of ayoidiog
justice.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 17

Church, on the other the efforts of the rising school of subtile
and enlightened jurists, now beginning to form themselves
into a class, and full of enthusiasm for the rediscovered prin-
ciples of the Roman law, conspired to overthrow this relic of
credulous barbarism. Among the people, however, ignorant
of Institutes and Decretals, it still lingered ; and we may per-
haps be pardoned, if, leaving for a moment the dry details of
codes and constitutions, we translate a little ballad from the
French of Audefroi le Bfitard, a renowned trouvere of the
same period, whiph aptly illustrates the confidence which it
still inspired.

LA BELLE EREMBORS.*
" Quand vient en mai, qne Ton dit as Ions jon/* etc.

*' In the long, bright days of spring-time,

In the month of blooming May,

The Franks from royal council field

All homeward wend their way.
Rinaldo leads them onward

Past EremboTs' gray tower,
But turns away, nor deigns to look
Up to the maiden's bower.
Ah, dear Rinaldo !

** Full in her turret window
Fair Erembors is sitting.
The lovelorn tales of knights and dames

In many a color knitting.
She sees the Franks pass onward,

Rinaldo at their head.
And fain would clear the slanderous tale
That evil tongues have spread.
Ah, dear Rinaldo !

** ^ Sir knight, I well remember
When you had grieved to see
The castle of old Erembors

Without a smile from me.'
* Your vows are broken, princess,

Your faith is light as air,
Your love another's, and of mine
You have nor reck nor care.'
Ah, dear Rinaldo !

* Le Roax de Lincy, Chants Historiques Franfais, 1. 15.

( : « \vti\ii M. roMi-i iiiivnoN [Jan.

•:.. k Ik., 'III. iMv UkIi iiiil»ri>k«'ii
I I.I I .1. .4 1 «% ill <«%•* \t ,

\ I. . . :• I IM-4I.I.; 'IimI lliiilv llHint'»

V\ . I. ■■•-. ^Iiuil V^.tiH-*'* Nt-41.
i .. ., • IfK A -itiMtin I,

I t ■..■ '.•••■. I Miy vnt^o •**'• Im'O
h il,... .iifiiil V'oi' iliiiil'U 'lliil tr-lM.

^ .-• -Il ill IlltrV l,|4<i'4 tiiit-|->

Ml. ilr.ii Itiii'iiilii'
l.'ii.-tl.l t Mi.iiiiit- ill* •;l-iiii 'Ki^

A ji ....lly Llil|flii I IVIt-ll, .

\\ ,1). ..Im'.iI.1»-i-. I'ii'IiI -iimI '.Iniilri waist,

I -til I tiiil lijiir. lyii kn-n

I .tiili iii>l'l-i IK* yiiiiiti -HI iMltrd

III i.^r.f/ Liiiiililly itif'Miiir.

W lir II 1 .iriiil.iifl lif.||ii|li>l illlll,

-.III. .vr.i|i-. .villi VII V )i|ti|tH|||t^ !

Ml. iliMi Kiiiiihlii'
iriii.ililii lit il»- iiiiH i

tllilill 'I I Hill II li:|»iiHrH,

'n**.ft. ili-hly hiiiiHwl ,tit'. iiiiiiiir wrratliB

fll Viitlf-lN mill 111 fflM-.H.

I'' 11/ l-.riiiilifiiH lii-Niilii liiiii

-'.ill fU*|'fll III I'lVllijr lllllfl,
iUn [iHt liny VliWIfj III lllll !

A III (If)'H hiiiulilii! "

|h«i4i»|ir/ {../!..>•(.'« Ill with iiiiiillMr rxtra-jiidicijil instance,

.uMtm^H i'Mi..// U"r, III IW^ wlii'li «li<>ws that the cerc-

iMMiii w.,4 uliU r'K»"'''' •^'*'* "•V'''''"*''* '»» <l<^tennining mat-

Wi. ^W..\» MMiliI MM. M-. ri'iHlH'l i'y ''"linsiry evidence. In a

..lv.ima<0H\y .tJ iHH/i-. tiHwrni iwii tiirl>iih.nt houses, one of

^Ww^m.u..Uf|lPH^*l'.«w.M.r, wilh «rv.n of his friends, that

Vw.W\uoViv.i.,»i*4 f.»,»Hitdi'M''y n-Krrtled, the death of his

.«Uifcv.»i^*\.wWimlW:'imli'.»t wniild h'Ji^l iiH to beheve he had

.v.*i.\v.v\ U \\\W ^HiMc Uif.« pn^viciim to this, however, the

..u\vmvmi^,Wwm*uVMMrM)«i"K7« ^ among the au-

vuv.v«.\ Wyv4 Vsm«i lit Vf«l«n and Southern Europe. A

1
<\

son

1859.1 AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 19

slight allusion to it, indeed, occurs in a collection of the laws
of Normandy dating from the commencement of the thirteenth
century, sufficient to show that it was still in existence, yet
shorn of all importance;* but it has entirely disappeared from
various contemporary codes. In 1220 the Emperor Frederic

II. promulgated the " Constitutiones Sicularum," a sys-
tem of jurisprudence greatly in advance of what had pre-
ceded it, and showing the remarkable influence which the
Roman law was beginning to exercise over the Teutonic
element. The Assises de Jerusalem, or code constructed for
the government of the Latin kingdoms of the East, although
originally compiled in 1099, under Godfrey of Bouillon, has
reached us only in the form which it assumed about the
period under consideration. Both of these bodies of law are
destitute of any allusion to canonical compurgation, showing
how completely it was falling into disuse by the common
consent of legislators. Nor yet is it referred to in the Cou-
tumes du Beauvoisis, written by Beaumanoir in 1283, which
give us so thorough an insight into the struggle between feu-
dalism and the enlightened centralization aimed at by the
reforms of St. Louis. Still, in a much later period, a faint
reflection of its influence may be traced in the laws of Britta-
ny, as revised in 1539, in a provision by which a man claiming
compensation for property taken away is to be believed on
oath as to his statement of its value, provided he can produce
credible witnesses to depose " qu'ils croyent que le jureur ait
fait bon et loyal serment " ; f but even this last vestige dis-
appears in the revision of the Coutumier made by Henry

III. in 1580. In Germany, however, the practice in its origi-
nal form as a mode of compurgation was maintained to a
much later period than in France, M. Konigswarter quoting
an instance which occurred in 1548 ; while in Sweden it was
a recognized form of procedure for a century later, as is shown
by a statute of Queen Christina in 1653.

The influence of the Roman hierarchy was a powerful
element in the gradual abrogation of a custom so deeply

* Tit. de DtfauteSf ^tablissements de Normandie, published by Marnier, Paris,
1839.
t Anc. Coat, de Bretagne, Tit VIII. art 168.

20 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

rooted in the minds and feelings of the people. That in-
fluence in the Middle Age was almost always on the side of
intclligencie, except where the material or spiritual interests
of the Church were involved ; and before the revival of the
Roman law, at a time when the clergy were almost the sole
depositaries of legal learning, the tendency of litigation was
to centre in the ecclesiastical courts, and to leave the petty
sessions of ignorant and tyrannical seiffneurs justiders. All
motives conspired, therefore, to add vigor to the determina-
tion of the popes to put an end to forms by which justice
could be so readily perverted, or at best was left to the
decision of chance. Their warfare against the judgment
by ordeal and the wager of battle was long and arduous;
that against compurgation by oath was earlier successful ;
and when the great champion in the quarrel. Innocent III.,
towards the beginning of the thirteenth century, decreed
that compurgators were held to swear only to their belief in
the truth of the oath taken by their principal,* he attacked
the very foundation of the practice, and gave a powerful
impulse to the tendency of the times no longer to regard
the compurgator as sharing the guilt or innocence of the ac-
cused. The guaranty which had thus originally existed was
withdrawn ; the proceeding was shorn of its solemnity, and
could no more present itself as offering security worthy the
confidence of the people, or sufficient to occupy the attention
of a court of justice. That it should fall into contempt when
thus diverted from its original meaning was most natural,
and that it should have maintained- its ground so long id a
striking proof of the vitality of error where it has once suc-
ceeded in completely obtaining the confidence of the ignorant.
An interesting branch of the question, which our author
passes over without notice, is whether the plaintiff or accuser
had the right to fortify his position by conjurators. With but
one exception, the " Leges Barbarorum " arc silent on this
point, and we should conclude that the practice was unknown,
if the exception were not of a striking character. Some of

* " IIU qui ad purgandam alicnjns iDfamiam indacuntar, id solam tencntur jura-
mciito firmare, quod vcritatem credunt.eum dicere qui purgatur." — Bignon. NoUc
ad Marailfam.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 21

the earlier texts of the Salique law contain a section * com-
manding in certain cases the accuser or plaintiff to sustain his
action with a number of conjurators varying with the amount
at stake; a larger number is required of the defendant in
reply, and it is presumed that the judges weighed the proba-
bilities on either side, and rendered their verdict accordingly.
The directions are so precise, that there can be no doubt that
in early times the custom prevailed to a limited extent, at
kast among certain tribes of the Franks, and it is an ad-
ditional proof of the separate individuality of each house or
family as distinguished from the rest of the sept. In Eng-
land the Anglo-Saxon laws require, except in trivial cases, an
oath from the accuser {ante-juramentum, or precjuramentum),
and William the Conqueror enforced this by demanding the
addition of conjurators.f As the oath had reference not to
the facts of the case, but solely to purity of intention on the
part of the accuser, those who took it with him were in no
sense witnesses.

When man is emerging from barbarism, the struggle be-
tween the rising powers of reason and the waning forces of
credulity, superstition, prejudice, and custom, affords an inter-
esting and instructive spectacle. Wise in our generation, we
laugh at the inconsistencies of our forefathers, which, rightly
considered as parts of the great cycle of human progress,
are rather to be respected as trophies of the silent victory,
pursuing its irresistible course by almost imperceptible grada-
tions, and most beneficent when least conspicuous. When,
therefore, in the darkness of the Middle Age, we find the ele-
ments of pure justice so strangely intermingled with the ar-
bitrament of force, and with the no less misleading decisions of
chance dignified under the forms of Christianized superstition,
we should remember that even this is an improvement on the
all-pervading first law of brute strength. We should not won-
der that semi-barbarous tribes require to be enticed towards
the conceptions of abstract right, through pathways which,

♦ Tit LXXIV. of Herold*8 text. Cap. XVIII. of the Capita Extravagantia of
Pardessns.

t " Et li apelcar jnrra sur lui jar set homes nomes, qui ponr haar ncl fist, no pur
altre chose, si par son drcit non parchacer.^' — L. Gaillcl I. cap. 16. (Wilkins.)

22 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

though devious, may reach the goal at last. When the strong
man is brought, by whatever means, to yield to the weak, a
great conquest is gained over human nature ; and if the aid of
a higher power is invoked, however mistakenly, to aid in the
struggle, we may regret the necessity, but when enjoying the
result we have no right to stigmatize the means by which
Providence has seen fit to bring it about. With uneducated
nations, as with uneducated men, sentiment is stronger than
reason, and sacrifices will be made to the one which are
refused to the other. If therefore the fierce warrior, who is
resolute in maintaining an injustice or a usurpation, can be
brought to submit his claim to the chances of an equal com-
bat or of an ordeal, he has already taken a vast step towards
acknowledging the empire of right, and abandoning the per-
sonal independence which is incompatible with the relations
of human society. It is by such indirect means that mere
siggregations of individuals, each relying on his sword and
right hand, have been gradually led to endure regular forms
of government, and, becoming organized nations, to cherish
the abstract idea of justice as indispensable between man and
man. Viewed in this light, the ancient forms of procedure
lose their ludicrous aspect, and we contemplate their whimsi-
cal jumble of force, faith, and reason, as we might the first
rude engine of Watt, or the "Clermont" which painfully
labored in the waters of the Hudson, — a clumsy affair when
compared with the " Persia " or the " Adriatic," but yet ven-
erable as the origin and prognostic of subsequent triumphs.

There is a natural tendency in the human mind to cast the
burden of its doubts on the shoulders of a higher power, and
to relieve itself from the trouble of decision by seeking in
mystery the solution of its difficulties. From the fetish-
worshippers of Congo to the polished sceptics who frequented
the salon of Mile, le Normant, the distance, though great, is
bridged over by this common weakness ; and whether an omen
for the future, or information of the past, be sought, the im-
pulse is the same. When, therefore, in the primitive malhim^
the wisdom of the rachinborgs was at fault, and the absence
or equal balance of testimony rendered a verdict difficult, what
was more natural than to seek a decision by appealing to the

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 23

powers above, and to leave the matter to the judgment of
God ? Nor, with the warlike instincts of the race, is it sur-
prising that this appeal should have been made to the God
of battles, to whom, in the ardor of newly found and imper-
fect Christianity, they looked in every case for a special in-
terposition in favor of innocence and justice. The curious
mingling of modes of procedure is well illustrated by a form
of process prescribed in the Lex Baioariorum.* A man
comes with six conjurators into court, and claims an estate ;
the possessor defends his right with a single witness, who
must be a landholder of the vicinage, and whose testimony is
sufficient to outweigh the six, whose oaths are only affirma-
tive of that of their principal. The claimant then attacks
the veracity of the witness : — " Thou hast lied against me.
Grant me the single combat, and let God make manifest
whether thou hast sworn truth or falsehood!"! — and accord-
ing to the event of the duel is the decision as to the truthful-
ness of the witness and the ownership of the property.

In discussing the judicial combat, it is important to keep
in view the distinction between the wager of battle as a
legal institution, and the custom of duelling, which has ob-
tained with more or less regularity among all races and in
all ages. When the Horatii met the Curiatii, or when An-
tony challenged Octavius to decide the empire of the world
with their two swords, these were isolated proposals to
save the unnecessary expenditure of blood, Or to gratify in-
dividual hate. When the raffing of the times of Henri
Quatre, or the modern fire-eater, wipes out some imaginary
stain in the blood of his antagonist, the duel thus fought,
though bearing a somewhat greater analogy to the judicial
combat, is derived, not from this, but from the right of private
vengeance which was common to all the Teutonic tribes, and
from the subsequent right of private warfare which was the
exclusive privilege of the gentry in feudal times. The estab-
lished euphuistic formula of demanding " the satisfaction of
a gentleman " thus designates both the object of the custom

♦ Tit. XVI. Cap. I. § 2.

t '* Mendaciam jurasti contra me : sponde mo pagna dnornm, et manifestet Dens
si mendaciam an veritatem jnrasti contra me."

24 CANONICAL COMPURaATION [Jan.

and its origin. Being nearly akin, however, to the battle
ordeal, and having survived that institution, the duel has
inherited somewhat of dignity, and has been to a certain
extent modified in succeeding to its elder brother ; but the dis-
tinction between the two can always be discerned. When,
after the Sicilian Vespers, the wily Charles of Anjou was
sorely pressed by his victorious rival, Don Pedro I. of Ara-
gon, and, fearing a general revolt of his Neapolitan sub-
jects, desired to gain time, he sent a herald to Don Pedro
to accuse him of bad faith in having commenced the war
without a defiance. The fiery Catalan fell into the snare,
and, to clear himself of the charge, offered to meet his accuser
in single combat. Both parties swore upon the Gospels to
decide the question, a hundred on each side, on the neutral
territory of Bordeaux, and Charles, having obtained the
requisite suspension of arms, easily found means to avoid the
champ clos* Though practically this challenge may differ
little from that of Antony, — the stake in reality being the
crown of the Two Sicilies, — still its form was that of a
judicial duel, the accused Don Pedro offering to disprove the
charge of mala fides on the body of his accuser. When
Francis I., in idle bravado, flung down the gauntlet to
Charles V., it was not to save half of Europe from fire and
sword, but simply to clear himself from the well-grounded
charge of perjury brought against him by the Emperor for
his non-observance of the Treaty of Madrid. This, again,
wore the form of the judicial combat, whatever might be the
motives of private hate or public gasconade that influenced
the ill-regulated mind of the last imitator of the follies of
chivalry .f The distinction is perhaps even more striking in
the celebrated duel fought, in 1547, between La Chaistaigne-
rie and Jarnac, so piteously mourned over by honest old
Brantome, which signalized the commencement of the reign
of Henry II. It is noted as the last instance in France of
compurgation by battle, having been conducted with all the
judicial ceremonies, in presence of the king, to clear Jarnac
from a disgusting accusation brought by his adversary. Re-

* Ramon Mnntaner, Cap. LXXII. t Da Bellay, M^moires, Ut. III.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 25

suiting most unexpectedly in the death of Chaistaignerie,
who was a favorite of the king, the monarch was induced to
put an end to all legalized combats, though the illegal insti-
tution of the private duel continued to flourish, and increased
beyond all former precedent during the succeeding half-cen-
tury, — Henry IV. having granted, in twenty-two years, no
less than seven thousand letters of pardon for duels fought
in contravention of the royal edicts. The modern mode of
obtaining satisfaction is so repugnant to the spirit of our
age, that we can scarcely be surprised that this last relic
of barbarism should be generally regarded as descended from
the ancient wager of battle; but, as we have observed, the
two have coexisted as separate institutions, and, though per-
haps drawing their origin remotely from the same habits
and customs, yet they followed different channels, were prac-
tised for different ends, and were conducted with different
ceremonies. The object of the one was vengeance and
reparation ; the theory of the other was the discovery of
truth.

Our theme is limited to the combat as a judicial process,
and therefore, leaving untouched the vast harvest of amusing
anecdote afforded by the monomachial propensities of modern
times, we will briefly consider the history of the legal duel,
from its origin to its final abrogation. Confined to the nations
of Modern Europe, unknown to classical antiquity or to the
ancient civilizations of the East, it is not a little singular that
the custom should have prevailed, with such general unanim-
ity, from Spartivento to the North Cape, and that, with but
one or two exceptions, all the European races, differing in so
many points, should have adopted this with such common
spontaneity, that we cannot assign its origin with certainty to
any one of them. It would seem to have been autochthonic
with them all, and the theories which attribute its paternity
especially to the Burgundians, to the Franks, or to the Lom-
bards, are equally destitute of foundation. The earliest refer-
ence to the practice occurs in a passage quoted by M. Ko-
nigswarter from Livy, in which the historian describes a
Spanish tribe as settling civil suits by combat, when no other

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182. 3

26 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

convenient solution presented itself.* Caesar, however, makes
no mention of such a custom among the Gauls, nor does
Tacitus among the Germans ; f and their silence on the subject
must be accepted as conclusive, since a system so opposed to
the theories of the Roman Law could not have failed to im-
press them had it existed. If the fabulous age attributed by
the early historians to the Danish monarchy be accepted as
credible, we may quote from Saxo Grammaticus a statement
that Frotho III. or Great, about the Christian era, intro-
duced the practice among his subjects, employing it in all
cases ; J and, however apocryphal the chronology may be, it
yet shows the immense antiquity attributed to the custom,
even in those ancient times. Spelman quotes the proceedings
of an Irish synod, said to have been held in 432 by St. Patrick,
which, if genuine, present us with the earliest reference to the
practice after the irruption of the barbarians. Canon VI. pro-
viding that an appeal to the sword by a clerk shall subject
him to expulsion from the Church. § As this was about the
epoch of the conversion of the Irish, the allusion would seem
to signalize a deeply rooted pre-existing custom. Towards
the end of the same century. King Gundobald caused the
laws of the Burgundians to be collected, and among them

* " Qaidem litcs quas disccptando finirc ncquivcrant aut noluerant, pacto inter
se ut victorem res sequerctur, ferro decrevcnint." — Lib. XXVIII. Cap. XXI.

t A passage in " De Morihus Germaniic," Cap. X., is commonly qaoted as show-
ill*: the existence of the duel as a means of evidence among the Germans, bat erro-
neously. When about to undertake an important war, one of the enemy was cap-
tured and obliged to fight with a chosen champion, and from the result an augury
was drawn as to the event of the war. Those who quote this custom, however,
overlook the vast difierence between a special omen of the future, and a proof of
the past in the daily affairs of life.

Ducangc alludes to an expression in Paterculus as proving that the judicial
appeal to the sword was customary among the Germans ; but we cannot belieTc
that such is the meaning of the passage, diffident though we are in dissenting from
so absolute an authority. Paterculus merely says (Lib. II. Cap. CXVill.), in de-
scribin<> the stratagems which led to the defeat of Varus, " et solita armis decemi
jure tcrniinarentur.'* Taken with the context, this would appear to refer merely to
the law of the strongest, which obtains among all savage tribes.

I *' Ut dc qutilibet controversia ferro dccemetur ; speciosius viribus quam verbis
conflin^cndum existimans." — Saxo Gram. Hist. Dan. Lib. V. (Wilkins.)

§ " Clericus ille solvat debitum, nam si armis compugnaverit com illo, merito
extra ecclcsiam coniputetur."

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 27

the wager of battle is so conspicuous, that it obtained the
name of Lex Gundebalda, or Loy Gombette, giving rise to
the belief that it originated among that race. Although this
is an error, the practice among them must evidently have been
of old date to have been ramified so completely throughout
their jurisprudence. Numerous early instances of the " pugna
duorum " among the Salian Franks are to be found in Greg-
ory of Tours, and yet in the ordinary texts of the Salique law
no mention is made of it. In one manuscript, however, it is
alluded to as a regular form of procedure.* We must not
infer, however, from this silence, that the custom was not
legalized among them ; for the same silence is observed in
the " Lex Emendata " of Charlemagne, while the Capitula-
ries of that monarch frequently allude to it as the last appeal
in doubtful cases. The offshoots of the Salique law, the Lex
Ripuariorum, Lex Alamannorum, and Lex Baioariorum,t all
of which bear a very strong family resemblance to their com-
mon parent, in their constant reference to the " campus," show
how thoroughly it pervaded the entire system of Germanic
jurisprudence. The Lombards were, if possible, even more
addicted to settling their differences in this manner. Their
earliest laws, compiled by King Rotharis in 643, seventy-six
years after their occupation of Italy, make constant reference
to the practice ; and when Luitprand, more enlightened than
his contemporaries, endeavored about a century later to abol-
ish it, he found the national prejudices too powerful for him,
and was obliged to rest content with some ineffectual efforts
to limit the extent of its application, and to diminish the
penalties incurred by the defeated party. He took care, how-
ever, to leave on record a strong expression of his disbelief in
its justice, and of his desire to do away with it altogether.^

* ** Si tamen non potaerit adprobare . . . . et postea si ausus faerit pugnet." —
Leyden MS. Cap. XXXVllI., Capita Extravagantia of Pardessus.

t Compiled by Thierry, son of Clovis, afterwards revised successively nnder Chil-
debert and Clotairc II., and finally by Dagobert I. about the year 630. The latter
form is that in which the laws have mostly reached us.

X " Gravis causa nobis esse comparuit, ut sub uno scuto, per unam pngnam,

omnem suam substantiam homo amittat Quia incerti sumus de judicio Dei ;

et multos audivimus per pugnam sine justa causa suam causam perdcre. Sed
propter consuetudinem gentis nostras, Longobardomm legem impiam vetare non
possnmns." — L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. IX. ^ 23.

28 CANONICAL COMPURaATION [Jan.

The laws of the Angles, the Saxons, and the Frisians like-
wise bear testimony to the widely extended prevalence of the
custom* We have seen the extreme antiquity attributed by
Saxo Grammaticus to the wager of battle among the Danes,
and the same author informs us that the institution was abol-
ished by Harold the Simple, about the year 1075. f In Swe-
den, Norway, and Iceland, it was in full vigor for nearly a
century later. Among the Welch it prevailed to a consider-
able extent, and though Hoel Dha, when he revised their code
in 914, endeavored to put an end to the practice, he was un-
able effectually to eradicate it.

It is not a little singular that the judicial combat appears
to have been unknown to the Anglo-Saxons. Employed so
extensively as legal evidence throughout their ancestral re-
gions, by the kindred tribes from which they sprang, the
races among whom they settled, and the Danes and Norwe-
gians who became incorporated with them, — harmonizing,
moreover, with their general habits and principles of action, —
we might deem it impossible that they should not likewise
have introduced it. That such was the case is one of the
anomalies which defy speculation, and we can only mention
the fact, that it is not referred to in any of the Anglo-Saxon
or Anglo-Danish codes, and that there seems to be no doubt
that its introduction into English jurisprudence dates only
from William the Conqueror. J

The only other barbarian race among whose laws the

* E. p:. L. Anpliorura et Werinorum, Tit. I. Cap. III. and Tit. XV. — L. Saxon.
Tit. XV. — L. Frison. Tit V. Cap. I. and Tit XI. Cap. III.

t M. Kiinigswarter asserts that this change occurred on the conversion to Chris-
tianity of Harold Blaatand by Bishop Poppo, in 965. Saxo Grammaticus, how-
ever, who was almost a contemporary, attributes it to Harold the Simple, son of
Swcn Estrith.

I '* Si Francigcna appellaverit Anglum .... Anglus so defendat per qnod melius

voluerit, aut judicio ferri vel duello Si autem Anglus Francigenam appella-

verit ct probare voluerit judicio aut duello, tunc volo Francigenam purgare se
Sacramento, non duello." — Decreta Guillclmi Bastardi. (Wilkins.) The distinc-
tion thus drawn between the races seems a little surprising, when immunity from
the duel is accorded as a privilege to the generous Norman blood. The decree,
however, appears to have been issued very shortly after the Conquest, and William
may have been afraid that his scattered countrymen might be cut off in detail by
legal means. In a subsequent statute the distinction was withdrawn. (Legg.
Guillcl. Conquest Cap. LXVIII. et seq.)

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 29

battle trial found no place was the Wisigothic, and with
them the exception is susceptible of a readier explanation.
They were the earliest of the invaders who succeeded in
forming a permanent occupation of the conquered territories ;
and settling, as they did, in Narbonensian Gaul and Spain,
while the moral influence of Rome was yet all powerful, the
imperial institutions exercised a much greater effect upon
them than on the subsequent bands of Northern invaders.
Accordingly, we find their code based almost entirely upon the
Roman jurisprudence, with such modifications as were essen-
tial to adapt it to a ruder state of society. Its nicely bal-
anced provisions and careful distinctions offer a striking con-
trast to the shapeless legislation of the races that followed,
and neither the judicial combat nor canonical compurgation
found a place in their code. Even the ordeal would appear
to have been unknown until a period long subsequent to the
conquest of Aquitaine by Clovis, and but little previous to
their overthrow in Spain by the Saracens. The introduction
of the Prankish element, however, brought with it Prankish
customs ; and in the celebrated combat before Louis le D(jbon-
naire between Counts Bera and Sanila, who were both Goths,
we find the " pugna duorum " claimed as an ancient privi-
lege of the race, with the distinction of its being equestrian,
in accordance with Gothic usages.*

Nor was the wager of battle confined to races of Celtic or
Teutonic origin. The Slavonic tribes, as they successively
emerge into the light of history, show the same tendency to
decide doubtful points of civil and criminal law by an appeal
to the sword; and in the earliest records of Hungary, Bohe-
mia, Poland, Servia, Silesia, Moravia, Pomerania, Lithuania,
and Russia, M. Konigswarter finds evidence of the prevalence
of the system.

In the primitive codes of the barbarians, there is no distinc-
tion made between civil and criminal law; indeed, bodily
punishment being almost unknown, except with regard to
slaves, and nearly all infractions of the law being visited with
fines, there was no necessity for such niceties, the matter at

* Ermold. Nigell-, De Reb. Crest Ladov. Pii, Lib. IIL— Astron. Vita et Acta
Ludov. Pii, Cap. XXXHI.

30 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

stake in all cases being simply money or money's worth. Ac-
cordingly, we find the wager of battle used indiscriminately,
both as a defence against accusations of crime, and as a mode
of settling cases of disputed property, real and personal. No
doubt, in its origin, it was employed only in the absence of
satisfactory evidence, and the judges or rachinborgs decided
as to the propriety of its application. Some of the early codes
refer to it but seldom, and allude to it as employed in but few
cases.* This reticence, however, was not of long duration ;
for it was a favorite mode of determining questions of perjury,
and there was nothing to prevent a suitor, who saw his case
going adversely, from accusing an inconvenient witness of
false swearing, and demanding the "campus" to prove it, —
a proceeding which adjourned the main case, and likewise de-
cided its result t This summary process, of course, brought
all actions within the jurisdiction of force, and deprived the
judges of all authority to prevent the abuse. Indeed, so com-
pletely was the control taken out of the hands of the judiciary,
that with the lapse of time it finally became competent for a
defeated party to challenge the court itself, and thus obtain a
reversal of judgment at the point of his sword. In the' twelfth
century, Glanville confesses his doubt whether the court could
depute its quarrel to a champion, or whether the judge deliv-
ering the verdict was bound to defend it personally, and also
what, in case of defeat, was the legal position of the court thus
convicted of unjust judgment J A hundred years later, we

* Thus tho Lex Salica, as we have seen above, can hardly be said to rocognizo
the existence of tlie practice. The Lex Ripuarionim refers to it but four times ; the
Lex Alamannomm but sL\ times ; >vhile it fairly bristles throughout the cognate
code of the Baioariuns.

t A proof of tliis has already been quoted from the L. Baioar. Tit. XVI. Cap. I.
§ 2. Sec also Capit Ludov. Fii, ann. 819, Cap. XV. : "At si alia vice duo vel trea
eum dc furto accusaverint, liceat ei contra nnum ex his cum scuto et foste in cam-
po contendere." For this reason, perhaps, the witness came into court armed, and
hiid Ills weapons blessed on the altar before giving his testimony. If defeated, he
was fined, and obliged to make good any damage which his evidence might have
caused to his opponent. L. Baioar. Tit. XVI. Cap. V.

t " Curia tenetur tamen judicium suum tueri per duellnm Sed ntrum

curia ipsa tcneatur per aliqucm de curia se defendere, vel per alium eztraneum hoc
fieri possit, quero," etc. — De Leg. Angl. Lib. VIII. Cap. IX. As the military and
judicial professions were usually combined at that period, this proceeding was not
so extraordinary as it may appear to uf .

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 31

learn the solution of these knotty points from Beaumanoir,
whose elaborate directions prove the wide prevalence of the
custom, and the restrictions with which legists were endeav-
oring to abridge it Some caution was necessary ; for the dis-
appointed pleader who did not manage matters rightly might
find himself pledged single-handed to a combat with all his
judges at once, and, as the bench consisted of a collection of
the neighboring gentry, the result might be to confirm the sen-
tence in a manner more emphatic than agreeable. The pen-
alty imposed on a judge vanquished in such an appeal was
severe, — in civil cases, a heavy fine and deprivation of the
judicial function ; in criminal ones, death and confiscation, —
"11 pert le cors et quanques il a." In capital cases, however,
the appeal did not lie, while in civil causes the suzerain, be-
fore whom the appeal was made, could refuse it when the
justice of the verdict was self-evident.*

Arising, as we have seen, thus spontaneously from the hab-
its and character of so many races, it is no wonder that the
wager of battle, adapting itself to their various usages, became
so permanent an institution. Its roots lay deep amid the re-
cesses of popular superstition and prejudice, and its growth
was correspondingly strong and vigorous. In this it was
greatly assisted by the ubiquitous evils which presented them-
selves from the facility for perjury afforded by the practice of
sacramental oaths and conjurators, and it seems to have been
regarded by legislators as the only remedy for the crime of
false swearing everywhere prevalent. Thus Gundobald as-
sumes that its introduction into the Burgundian code arose
from this cause.f Charlemange urged its use as greatly pref-
erable to the shameless oaths which were taken with so much
facility, J while Otho IL, in 983, ordained its use in various
forms of procedure, for the same reason. § It can hardly be

* Coutumes du Beauvoisis, Chap. LXI. ^ 39, 45, 47, 50, 62.

t " Multos in popalo nostro et provicationo caasantiam et cupiditatis instinctu ita
cognoscimus depravari, at de rebas incertis sacramentam plenimqae offerrc non
dabitcnt et de cognitis jagiter perjurare," etc. — L. Burgund. Tit. XLV.

I " Ut palam apparet quod ant ille qui crimen ingerit, aut ille qui Tult se defen-
dere, perjurare Be debeat, melius visum est ut in campo cum fustibus pariter con-
tendant quam perjuriam absconse perpetrent." — Capit. Car. Mag. ex Lege Longo-
bard. Cap. XXXIV. (Baluze.)

§ L. Longobard. Lib. IL Tit LV. 4 34.

32 CANOKICAL OOVFUaGAIIOH [Jan.

deemed singular, in view of the manners of the tiroes, and
the enormous evils for which a remedy was sought, that the
eiTort was made in this mode to impress upon principals and
witnesses the awful sanctity of the oath, by enforcing a lia-
bility to support it by aA appeal to arms under imposing re-
ligious ceremonies. Be this as it may, we have abundant
evidence of its frequent use. Charlemagne, when dividing his
vast empire, thought necessary to forbid its employment in
settling the territorial questions that might arise among his
heirs,* — a useless precaution, since they all preferred to min-
gle secret treachery with open force, but one which shows that
this arbitrament was in common use in affairs of the highest
magnitude, while the constant allusions to its employment,
in the capitularies, indicate how favorite a mode it was of
settling private quarrels.

All this, however, found a consistent opponent in the
Church. When King Grundobald gave form and shape to
the <<pugna duorum" in digesting the Burgnndian laws, Avi-
tus, Bishop of Vienne, remonstrated loudly against the prac-
tice, as unjust and unchristian. A new controversy arose on
the occasion of the duel between Counts Bern and Sanila, to
which we have already referred as an important event in the
reign of Louis le D6bonnaire. Agobard, Archbishop of Lyons,
seized the occasion to address to the Emperor a treatise, in
which he strongly deprecated the appeal to arms, as well as the
employment of ordeals in settling judicial questions. Some
thirty-five years afterwards, in 855, the Council of Valence de-
nounced the battle-trial in the strongest terms, pmying the
Emperor Lothaire to abolish it throughout his dominions, and
resolving that the victor in such contests should be excommu-
nicated, and the victim be denied the rites of Christian sepul-
ture.f Pope Nicholas I. and other pontiflEs protested against
it, and exerted themselves energetically, but ineffectually, to
procure its abandonment. Meanwhile, a defender had arisen
in the person of the fiery Hincmar, Archbishop of Bheims,
who, in warmly espousing the cause of the unfortunate Tiet-

* "Nee anqnam pro tali cautta cignslibet generii pngna Tel campus ad examins-
tionem jndicetar."— ChartaDifif. Carol liag. ann. SOtf; Cap. XIY.
t Fleurj, Hist Becks. Lib. 49.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 33

birga, repudiated by King Lothaire, had occasion to support,
with all the energy of his nature, the claims of the judgment
of God to human respect The opposing efforts of the Church
would appear to have been attended with little success, and
we find traces of the judicial combat during the darkness of
the next century, — the most obscure in the history of the
Middle Age. About the year 930, Hugh, king of Provence
and Italy, becoming jealous of his uterine brother, Lambert,
Duke of Tuscany, asserted him to be a supposititious child,
and ordered him for the future to claim no relationship with

himself. Lambert, being " vir bellicosus et ad quodlibet

facinus audax," contemptuously denied the aspersion, and of-
fered to clear all doubts as to his birth by the wager of battle.
Hugh accordingly selected a warrior named Teudinus as his
champion. Lambert was victor in the ensuing combat, and
was universally received as the undoubted son of his mother.
His triumph, however, was short-lived ; for Hugh soon after
succeeded in making him prisoner, and deprived him of eye-
sight.* Towards the middle of the same century, Otho the
Great appears, throwing the enormous weight of his influence
into the scale. A magnanimous and warlike prince as he
was, the wager of battle appears to have possessed peculiar
attractions for his chivahrous tendencies, and he extended its
application as far as lay in his power. Not only did he force
his daughter Liutgarda, in defending herself from a villanous
accusation, to forego the safer modes of compurgation, and to
submit herself to the perils of a judicial combat, but he also
caused the abstract question of representation in the succes-
sion of estates to be settled in the same manner ; and to this
day in Germany the division of a patrimony between children
and grandchildren is regulated by the doughty arms of the
champions who fought together nine hundred years ago at
Steil.f His son, Otho H., carried out his father's views. We
have already alluded to his substituting the judicial duel for
sacramental oaths, in 983, and we find him at the same time

* Luitprand. Antapod. Lib. III. cap. 46.

t Falgrave, Hist. Normandy, II. 633. In both these cases Otho may be said to
have had ancient castom in his favor. See L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. XII. § 2 j
L. Alamann. Cap. add. XXH. and Cap. LYL and LXXXIV.

34 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

abandoning the immemorial policy of the barbarians, which
permitted to all subject races the enjoyment of their ancestral
laws, by forcing the Italians in this respect to adopt the cus-
toms of their conquerors.*

Under such auspices, and stimulated by the rising spirit of
chivalry, it is no wonder that the judicial duel acquired fresh
importance, and was more extensively practised than ever.
All classes of society, from the highest to the lowest, were
liable to be called to defend their rights in the field. We
have already alluded to several instances in which kings ex-
changed cartels, and more might readily be given, such as the
challenge between the Emperor Henry the Black and Henry
I. of France during an interview at Ipsch in 1056.t The
Champion of England, who figures in the coronation pageant
of Westminster Abbey, is a relic of the times when it was
not an empty ceremony for the armed and mounted knight to
fling the gauntlet, and proclaim aloud that he was ready to do
battle with any one who challenged the right of the new mon-
arch to his throne. From the time of Henry I. the office of
king's champion was one of honor and dignity.

As regards the lower orders, innumerable documents attest
the right of peasants to the appeal of battle, and even Jews
were sometimes admitted to the privilege, as we learn from a
decision of 1207, preserved in an ancient register of assizes in
Normandy. J By the old Lombard law, slaves were allowed
to defend themselves in this manner, § and among the Frisi-
ans a lUus claiming his liberty was allowed to assert it against
his master with arms. || This, however, was long anterior to
the period under consideration ; but even in the time of Beau-
manoir (1283), although an appeal would not lie from a serf
to a freeman, we may safely infer from the context that a

* " Quacunquc lege, sivc etiam Romana, in omni regno Italico homo vixerit, h«c
omnia ut in Iiis capitulis per pognam deccmemus observ-arc." — L. Longobard. Lib.
n. Tit. LV. § 38.

t Lambert. Schaffnaburg. ann. 1056.

J Assises de I'Eehiquier de Normandie, p. 114. (Marnier.)

§ " Servus ejns tunc per pngnam aut per sacramentum se defendat si potaerit."
— L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. XXV. § 49.

li L. Frision. Tit. XI. Cap. IIL

1859.1

AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE.

combat could be legally decreed between two serfs, if the con-
sent of their masters was obtained.*

Women, ecclesiastics, and those suffering under bodily
in&rmity, were generally excused from appearing personally
in the lists, but they were bound to produce a champion to
defend their cause. So universal was this rule, that, as we
learn by the Assises de Jerusalem, when from poverty the
suitor was unable to provide a substitute, the suzerain was
bound to supply the expenses for forty days ; and when a
murdered man left no relatives to prosecute the criminal, the
suzerain was obliged to furnish the champion in any trial
which might arise, f But even women were not always ex-
empt from the necessity of personal defence. In some parts
of Germany, as we learn from M* Konigswarter, a custom
existed by which a female defended herself from calumny by
meeting her accuser in deadly combat, the chances being
equalized by burying the man to his waist, tying his left hand
behind his back, and furnishing him with a mace, while his
weaker opponent had the free use of her limbs, and was
armed with a heavy stone, securely fastened in a piece of
stuff. Ecclesiastics alro sometimes yielded to warlike aspi-
rations, in contravention of the rules of the Church, as appears
by a constitution of William the Conqueror in lOSO, subject-
ing them to a fine by way of punishment, when tlie bishop's
permission bad not been obtained; — " Si clericus duellura sine
episcopi liceutia susceperit aut assultum fecerit, episcopo per
pecuniam emeudetur." In 1140 Pope Innocent IL found it
necessary to denounce the practice of ecclesiastics appearing
either personally or by champions.^

Cases which came within the jurisdiction of the ecclesias*
tical courts — including all which related directly or indirectly
to marriages and testamentary provisions — were naturally
exempted firom the arbitrament of the sword, but, with this
exception, nearly every possible matter of litigation may be
considered as liable to the wager of battle. We have seen
that, under Otho the Great, even an abstract question was
resolved in this manner; and a more remarkable case occurred

♦ Cotttumes du. Bcauvoma, Cap. LXin. ^ 1.
t Afsises de Jomsalcm, Cap. 206 and 2G7,

I Ducange.

36 OAVONiCAL ooifFUBGATiOH [Jan.

in Spain in the eleventh centary, when the fiery and indomi-
table Hildebrand endeavored to enforce the observance of the
Roman liturgy in Castile and Leon, in lieu of the Gtothio or
Mozarabic rite. With considerable difficulty, Navarre and
Aragon had, some years before, been led to consent to the
change, but the Castilians were attached to the observances
of their ancestors, and stoutly refused compliance. In 1077
Alphonso I. procured the assent of a national council to the
change, but the people rebelled, and, after repeated negotia-
tions, the question was referred for decision to the sword.
The champion of the Gothic rite was victorious, and tradition
adds, that a second trial was made by the ordeal of fire ; a
missal of each kind was thrown into the flames, and the na-
tional liturgy emerged triumphantly, unhurt*

Nearly contemporary with this was the celebrated case of
Otho, Duke of Bavaria, — perhaps the most noteworthy ex*
ample of judicial appeal to the sword, as it proved the com-
mencement of the terrible Saxon war, and of the troubles
which, aggravated by the skilful hand of Hildebrand, pursued
the unfortunate Emperor Henry IV. to his grave, and did so
much to establish the temporal supremacy of the Pope. A
worthless adventurer, named Egeno, accused the proud and
powerful Otho of conspiring against the Emperor's life. In a
Diet held at Mayence, the Duke was commanded to do battle
with his accuser within six weeks. According to some au-
thorities, his pride rebelled against meeting an adversary so
very far beneath him ; according to others, he was prevented
from appearing in the lists only by the want of a safe-conduct,
which the Emperor refused him. Be this as it may, the ap-
pointed term elapsed, judgment was taken against him by
default, and his duchy was confiscated accordingly. It was
bestowed on Welf, son of Azo d'Este and of Cunigunda, d^
scendant and heiress of the ancient Guelfic Agilolfings, and
thus, on the basis of a judicial duel, was founded the second
Bavarian house of Guelf, from which have sprung so many
royal and noble lines, including their Guelfic Majesties of
Great Britain. Some years later, the Emperor offered to

• Ferreras, Hift. Gen. d'Eipagiie, Trad. d'HenniUj, m. S45.

1859.] AND THB WAGER OF BATTLE. 37

disprove in the same manner a similar accusation brought
against himself by Duke Reginger, of endeavoring to assassi-
nate his rival, Rodolph of Suabia. A day was appointed for
the combat, which was prevented only by the opportune death
of Reginger immediately before it*

The implicit confidence reposed in the battle ordeal is well
illustrated by a case, in which a sacrilegious thief named
Ansel stole the sacred vessels from the church of Laon, and
sold them to a merchant. The latter swore secrecy, but,
frightened at the excommunications pronounced by the au-
thorities of the plundered church, he revealed the name of the
robber. Ansel denied the charge, offered the wager of battle,
defeated the unhappy receiver of the stolen goods, and was
proclaimed innocent. Encouraged by the immunity, he com-
mitted the same offence a second time, was convicted, and
confessed the previous crime. Learned doctors were consult-
ed, who unhesitatingly pronounced that the merchant had
suffered for the violation of the oath he had sworn to Ansel,
and the reputation of the duel remained intactf

There were some restrictions, however, imposed, and the
judicial combat was not allowed for matters below a certain
value. Thus, among the Angli and Werini, the minimum
limit was two solidi,J while the Baioarians permitted it for
a cow, or any matter of greater value.§ In later times, Otho
11. decided that six solidi should be the smallest sum worth
fighting for. II William the Conqueror appears to have enacted
no limit ; but Henry I. decreed that, in civil cases, the appeal
of battle should not lie for a less amount than ten solidi.^ In
France, Louis le Jeune, by an edict of 1168, forbade the duel

* Lambert. Schaffnaburg. ann. 1070, 1073, 1074. — Conrad. Ursperg. ann. 1071.—
Bnino de Bcllo Saxon.

t DacIo8| M<5moire snr les i^preuyes.

X L. Anglior. ct V^erinor. Tit. XV. The variations of the coinage are so nnmer-
oas and so uncertain, that to express the valaes of the solidas, or son, at the different
periods and among the different races enumerated, would occupy more space than
we could afford. In general terms, we maj remark that the Carlovingian solidus
was the twentieth part of a pound of silver, and, according to the researches of
Gucrard, was equivalent in purchasing power to about thirty-six francs of modem
money. The marc was half a pound of silver.

^ L. Baioarior. Tit. VIII. Cap. n. ^ 5, and Cap. III.

II L. Longobard Lib. II. Cap. LV. ^ 37. 1 Legg. Henrici L Cap. 59.

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 4

38 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

when the sum in question was below five solidi.* In the
Frankish kingdom of Jerusalem, the minimum was a silver
marc.f

While the custom remained at its height, either party to
an action might, as a general rule, demand the judicial duel.
When Beaumanoir composed his " Coutumes du Beauvoisis,"
in 1283, the practice may be considered to have entered on its
decadence ; twenty years had elapsed since the energetic ef-
forts of St. Louis to abolish it ; substitutes for it in legal pro-
cedure had been provided, and the manner in which that
enlightened jurist manifests his preference for the peaceful
forms of law, shows that he fully entered into the civilizing
spirit in which the monarch had endeavored to soften the
ferocity of his subjects. When, therefore, we see in Beau-
manoir's treatise how few restrictions existed in his time, we
may comprehend the previous universality of the custom.
In criminal cases, if an accuser offered battle, the accused
must either accept it or confess, unless he could prove an
alibi ; or unless the accuser himself was notoriously guilty of
the crime in question, and the accusation was evidently in-
tended merely to baffle justice ; or unless, in case of murder,
the murdered man, when dying, had disculpated him and
had named the real criminals.} If the accused demanded
battle, the judge could refuse it only when his guilt was too
notorious for question.§ A serf could not challenge a free-
man, nor a bastard a man of legitimate birth (though an
appeal of battle lay between two bastards), nor a leper a
sound man. II In civil actions it was not allowed in cases
relating to dower, to orphans under age, to guardianships, or
to the equity of redemption afforded by the feudal laws to
kinsmen in the sale of heritable property, or when the matter
at stake was of less value than twelve deniers.^ The slen-'
derness of these restrictions shows what ample opportunities

♦ Ducanj^o. t Assises de Jerusalem, Cap. 149.

J Coutumes «la Heauvoisis, Chap. LXI. ^ 2 ; Chap. XLIII. § 6.
§ Ibid., Chap. I.XI. ^ 2 ; Chap. XXXIX. § 12.
11 Ibid., Chap. LXI II. H 1,2,10.

•l Ibid., Chap. LXIII. §§ 1 1, 13, 18. The denier was the twelfth part of the soli-
dus or sou.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OP BATTLE. 39

were afforded to belligerent pleaders ; and when we add the
privilege of challenging judgments, which obtained almost
everywhere, and the facilities enjoyed for forcing witnesses to
defend their testimony sword in hand, we may conclude that
practically it lay with either party to elect whether a suit
commenced in court should be decided in the field. We have
already alluded to the appeal of judgment ; the challenging
of testimony was so much a matter of right, that, in deference
to the custom, ecclesiastics and women were not receivable
as witnesses in lay courts in cases where appeal of battle
might arise.* If the evidence of any particular witness were
especially obnoxious, a favorite mode of disposing of it was
to accuse him of some crime rendering him incapable of tes-
tifying ; he was then obliged to fight, either personally or by
champion, in order to have his evidence admitted. f A sim-
pler mode, however, was to assert roundly that the witnesses
were perjuring themselves, and to offer to prove it against
one of them corps d corps ; when, in case of his defeat, the
cause was gained, no subsequent testimony being admitted
after so emphatic a decision by the Universal Judge.J The
result of this system was, that, in causes subject to appeal, no
witness could be forced to testify, unless his principal entered
into bonds to see him harmless in case of challenge, to pro-
vide a champion, and to make good all damages in case of
defeat ; § though it is difficult to understand how this could be
satisfactorily arranged, since the penalties inflicted on a van-
quished witness were severe, being, in civil causes, the loss of
a hand, and a fine at the pleasure of the suzerain, and, in
criminal actions, " il perderoit le cors avecques." || The only
limit to this abuse was that witnesses were not liable to chal-
lenge in cases concerning matters of less value than five sous
and one denier.^

In some countries, however, the facilities for these appeals
to the sword were not so extensive. In Catalonia, for in-

* Coutumes da Bcauvoisis, Chap. XXXIX. §^ 30, 31, 66. — Assises de Jerusa-
lem, Cap. 169.
t Coutumes du Beauvoisis, Chap. VI. § 16.
X Ibid., Chap. LXI. S 58. S Ibid., Chap. LXL § 59.

II Ibid., Chap. LXI. ^ 57. 1 Ibid., Chap. XL. § 21.

40 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

stance, the judge alone had the power of deciding whether
the wager of battle was admissible ; in Montpellier the assent
of both parties was requisite ; while in B6arn it was permitted
only in the absence of testimony.* On the other hand, in
Normandy, at the commencement of the thirteenth century,
many cases relating to real estate were examined in the first
instance by a jury of twelve men, and, if they failed of a unan-
imous verdict, the question was decided by the judicial duel,
whether the parties desired it or notf

The wrong and injustice wrought by the immense exten-
sion of so senseless a custom must have become manifest to
all thinking men, and gradually there arose an opposition to it
on the part of enlightened legislators. The Church never en-
tirely pretermitted her efforts to eradicate the prejudices left by
primitive barbarism, and, as civilization advanced, she was
from time to time aided by the secular power. Alexander
III. in 1179, and Innocent III. in 1215, fulminated decretals
against the wager of battle, and by their influence no doubt
led to the first Q^cient steps towards its abolition. These
were taken in 1220 by the Emperor Frederic XL, who in the
" Constitutiones Sicularum " pronounced the custom to be
" non tarn vera probatio quam quoedam divinatio .... quae
natunu non consonans a jure commune deviat, a?quitatis ra-
tionibus non conscntit," and prohibited it for the future, ex-
cept in cases of murder and high treason, where other proof
could not be had ; and even in these, he placed it at the option
of the accuser alone, in order to render it a punishment, not a
trial4 St. Louis, not long afterward, followed his example,
and among the ameliorations w^hich he so earnestly endeav-
ored to introduce was the abolition of the wager of battle,
by the celebrated Ordonnance of 1260. This was productive
of little immediate effect ; for though the elaborate and ju-
dicious system of inquests which he tried to substitute for the
duel no doubt eventually exercised a powerful influence in
inducing his people to adopt the more rational and safer

* Libcll. Ciitalan. MS. — Stat. Montispess. ann. 1204. — Fori Beneharncnscs,
Riil)r. dc Batalha, Art. I. (Ducangc.)
t JJ^tablisscments do Normandic, /xzssiin. (Marnier.)
t Constit. Sicular. Lib. II. Til. XXXII. XXXIII.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 41

mode of settling disputes, still he had no power to force this
innovation into the courts of the innumerable petty seigneurs
justicierSj high and low, among whom the administration
of justice was parcelled out through the kingdom, and his
own personal domains were all that he could control.* The
barons and gentry were not disposed to promote the human-
izing views of the king ; the prejudices of birth, the strength
of feudal principles, the force of chivalric superstition, the
pride of self-reliance, were too powerful ; and to these we
may add the prompting of self-interest, for the seigneur in
whose court an appeal of battle was tried received from the
defeated party a fine of sixty livres if we was a gentleman, and
sixty sous if a villein, — no inconsiderable sum, — besides a
perquisite of the horses and arms employed, and heavy mulcts
for any delays which might be soughtf The most that could
be expected, then, was that the suitor might be allowed the
privilege of electing between the ancient custom and the new
law. Even Beaumanoir, who in most things was far in
advance of his age, and w^ho assisted so energetically in the
work of centralization which at that period was so rapidly
undermining the feudal power, — even so acute and far-seeing
a jurist hesitates to object to the principles involved in the
battle trial, and hints his disapprobation in terms which con-
trast strongly with the vigorous language of Frederic II. and
the stern exhortations of the Church.J It would be too much,
however, to expect implicit obedience to so great an innova-
tion, when the example of disregarding it was set in the royal
court itself, as is shown by a case in which Philippe le Hardi,
son and successor of St. Louis, presided at a judicial duel,

* This atter want of power in a sovereign so much beloved and respected is a
striking indication of the political condition of the times. Beaumanoir states it
formally : '* Car toat cil qui ont justice en la contd pocnt maintenir lor cort, s'il
lor plest, selonc Tancienne coustome ; et s'il lor plest il le poent tenir selonc Testa-
blissement le Roy." (Chap. XXXTX. f 21.) And again : ''Car quant li rois Lois
les osta de sa cort il ne les osta pas des conrs k ses barons.** (Chap. LXI. f 15.)

t Coutumcs da Beaavoisis, Chap. LXI. ff 11, 12, 13.

X " Malt a de perix en plet qui est de gages de bataille, et malt est grans mes-
tiers c'on voist sagement avant en tel cas/* etc (Ibid., Chap. LXIV. §1.) " Car
ce n^est pas coze selonc Din de soafrir gages en petite querela de menbles ou d'eri-
tages ; mais coustume les soefre ^ vilains cas de crieme/' etc. (Ibid., Chap. VI.
♦ 31.)

42 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

about the year 1283, scarcely more than twenty years after
the promulgation of his father's edict* The next monarch,
Philippe le Bel, was a persevering and successful enemy of
feudalism in all its forms. Under his astute and energetic
rule the royal power increased enormously, and in 1296 he
prohibited trial by battle in time of war, and in 1303 inter-
dicted it entlrely.f One of the first acts of his son, Louis le
Hutin, in 1315, however, was to restore it in criminal cases,
where other proof was deficientif But the tide again turned
when Philippe de Valois, in 1330, evoked all appeals from the
local courts to the Parliament of Paris, and put an end to the
revoking of judgment at the sword's point§ The rising spirit
and importance of the Tiers-Etat also contributed powerfully
to diminish the frequency of these appeals to the sword.
The sturdy bourgeois, though ready enough with morion and
pike to defend their privileges, preferred a more reasonable
and peaceful mode of settling litigation ; numerous charters
of communes granted during these periods contain clauses
exempting the citizens from liability to the judicial combat ;
and when, in 1396, Charles VI. issued an edict,|| ordering
throughout his kingdom that the testimony of women should
be received in court, we see how completely the custom of
challenging witnesses must have fallen into desuetude.

M. KJinigswarter states that the last formal wager of
battle decreed by the Parliament of Paris took place in 1386,
between two bourgeois, on an accusation of adultery. We
presume that he alludes to the celebrated duel between the
Chevalier de Carongne and Jaques le Gris, described so
picturesquely by Froissart, which the king and all his court
shortened a campaign to witness, and in which the appellant
had as his second Waleran, Count of St. Poule, son-in-law of
the Black Prince. As described by the old chronicler, the
scene is striking. The Dame de Carongne, eager to avenge

* Coutumes du Bcuavoisis, Chap. LXI. § 63.

t Iv'migswartcr, p. 216.

t " Nous voulons ct ootroions que en cas dc murtrc, de larrecin, de rapt, de tra-
hison, et de voluric, gage do bataillo soit ouvert, so les cas ne poroicnt cstro proves
par teraoings." (Ducange.)

f Ordonnance of May 9, 1330. (Monteil.)

II Ncron. Recneil d'fedits, I. 16.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 43

her cruel wrong, is clothed in black and mounted on a sable
scaffold, from which, placing her trust in God, she witnessed
the varying chances of the unequal combat between her hus-
band, weakened by disease, and his vigorous adversary, know-
ing that, if strength alone prevailed, he must die a shameful
death, and she be dragged to the stake. At length, after a
grievous wound, when all seems lost, the avenger drives his
sword through the body of his prostrate enemy, and vindi-
cates his wife's honor and his own good cause. But Froissart
was too good an artist to risk the effect of his picture by too
rigid an adherence to facts, and he omits to mention, what is
told by the cooler Juvenal des Ursins,* that Le Gris was sub-
sequently proved innocent by the death-bed confession of the
real offender. The Anonyme de St Denis f adds, that the
unhappy Dame de Carongne, overcome by remorse at having
unwittingly caused the disgrace and death of an innocent
man, ended her days in a convent The result of this trial is
said by some writers to have been the cause of the abandon-
ment of the practice.

No further trace of the combat as a judicial procedure is
found in the registers of the Paris Parliament,^ and it may be
considered as thenceforth practically obsolete among the peo-
ple, though not yet expunged from the statute-book. Not
long afterward, Philippe le Bon, Duke of Burgundy, formally
abolished it throughout his dominions, and in the Coutumier
of Burgundy, as revised by him in 1459, there is no trace of
it The code in force in Brittany until 1539 permitted the
wager of battle in cases of treason, theft, and perjury, — the
latter as usual extending it over a considerable range of civil
actions.^ Normandy was even later in formally abrogating
the custom ; for it was not until the revision of her Coutumier
in 1583, under Henry III., that the privilege of deciding in
this manner numerous cases, both criminal and civil, was
legally abolished. || Still, the law was practically a dead letter

* Hist de Charles YI., an. 1386.
t Hist de Charles VI., Liv. VI. Chap. X.
t Buchou, Notes to Froissart, II. 537.

f Tres Ancienne Coat de Brctagne, Chap. 132, 134. (Bonrdot de Richebourg.)
II Ancienne Coat, de Normandie, Chap. 53, 70, 71, 73, etc. (Boardot de Riche-
boarg.)

44 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

among the hard-headed roturiers, though occasionally some
fiery gentleman claimed the right of deciding his quarrel at
the risk of his life. Thus, in 1482, shortly after the battle of
Nancy had reinstated Ren6, Duke of Lorraine, on the ruins
of the second house of Burgundy, two gentlemen of the
victor's court, quarrelling over the spoils of the battle-field,
demanded the ehamp-clos ; it was duly granted, and on the
appointed day the appellant was missing, to the immense
discomfiture and no little loss of his bail.* In 1538, Francis
I. granted a combat between Jean du Plessis and Gautier de
Dinteville, which would seem to have been entirely a judicial
proceeding, since the defendant, not appearing at the ap-
pointed time, was condemned to death 'by sentence of the
high council, Feb. 20, 1538.t We have already alluded to
the case of Chaistaignerie and Jarnac, in which the death of
the former caused Henry II. to declare the judicial combat
abolished. Two years later, however, in 1549, he yielded to
the request of Jaques de Fontaine, Sieur de Fendille, who
wished to repel at the sword's point an accusation brought
against him by Claude Daguerre, Baron de Vienne-le-Chatel ;
but, while violating the spirit of his resolution, the king main-
tained its letter, by deputing the granting of the combat to
Robert de la Marck, Marshal of France and sovereign prince of
Sedan. The affair accordingly took place, to the discomfiture
of Fendille. J This is the last recorded instance of the wager
of battle in France ; but long before this, the custom had lost
all practical importance. After a struggle of centuries, the
jurist had vanquished the knight-errant, the pen had tri-
umphed over the sword, and this relic of the Sicambrian
forests no longer represented the thoughts and feelings of the
age, though the Council of Trent still deemed it worth while
to renew the thunders of Alexander and of Innocent.

In England, however, the resolute conservatism which re-
sists merely theoretical innovation caused this medioBval sole-
cism to remain as a blot on the common law to a much later
period. Until the reign of Elizabeth, the wager of battle was
legal in civil cases, though it had practically fallen into disuse,

* I). Calmct, Hist, de Lorraine. t Ducangc.

X 1). Calmet, Hist de Lorraine.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 45

when in 1571 it was abolished, as Spelman says, "non sine
magna jurisconsultorum perturbatione," in consequence of its
employment in the case of Low et al. vs, Paramore. To de-
termine the title to an estate in Kent, Westminster Hall was
forced to adjourn to Tothill Fields, and the forms of a combat
were gone through, though an accommodation between the
parties saved the skulls of the champions.* It was not, how-
ever, thought requisite to extend the reform to the criminal
law, and the nineteenth century was disgraced by the escape
of a homicide who availed himself of the battle trial in an
appeal of murder. The case of Ashford vs. Thornton created
much excitement, when Lord Ellenborough was forced to ad-
mit the right of the accused to use his hands to save his neck,
and expounded the law in almost the same terms as those
which we read in Bracton or in Beaumanoir. The curious
crowds of cockneys were sorely disappointed when the plaintiff
cried " craven,** and the Chief Justice was released from pre-
siding over a gladiatorial exhibition. The act of 59 Geo. III.
c. 46, at length put an end for ever to this last remnant of
the age of chivalry, f

We have not left ourselves space to treat at length of the
ceremonies and forms observed in the judicial duel. These
varied considerably in different ages and countries, and the
minute directions which have come down to us, compiled for
the guidance of the judges of the lists, would expand unduly
an article already too long, without adding much to illus-
trate popular customs and modes of thought. Suffice it to
say, that the general principle throughout was the absolute
assertion by each party of the truth of his cause, to which ef-
fect a solemn oath on the Gospels, or on a relic of approved
sanctity, was administered before the conflict commenced.
Defeat was thus not merely the loss of the suit, but was also
a conviction of perjury, to be punished accordingly; and in
criminal cases it was further an evidence of malicious prose-
cution on the part of a worsted appellant. Accordingly, we
find the vanquished party, whether plaintiff or defendant, sub-
jected to penalties more or less severe, according to time and

* Spelman, Gloss, p. 103. t Campbell, Chief Justices, III. 169.

46 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

place. Thus Louis le Ddbonnaire, in 819, decreed that, in
cases where testimony was evenly balanced, a witness should
be chosen from each side to fight it out, the defeated chatn*
pion suftering the usual penalty of perjury, — the loss of a
hand, — while the other witnesses on the same side were al-
lowed the privilege of redeeming theirs at the legal rate.*
William the Conqueror placed a fine of forty sous on the los-
ing side, a regulation which was re-enacted by Henry Beau-
clerc. f Bracton and the Flcta both state that a vanquished
appellant is not liable to as severe a punishment as a van-
quished defendant, :f and the same distinction is observed in
the ancient codes of Normandy, when a husband sought to
prove a wrong forcibly inflicted on his wife.§ This latter
case, however, is identical with the one related above of Ca-
rongne and Le Gris, where wc have seen that accuser and ac-
cused w^ere under liabilities of punishment precisely similar,
and such was the general practice. Thus, in the Prankish
kingdoms of the East, on an appeal of murder, whichever party
was defeated was hanged in his spurs, || and various other in-
stances have already been alluded to in our remarks on the
challenging of witnesses.

We cannot dismiss the subject without a few words on a
remarkable peculiarity of these combats, — the employment
of champions. In the wide application of the principle as a
legal procedure, it is very evident that parties unable to wield
the sword or club would frequently be called upon to defend
their rights, and even a scanty measure of justice would re-
quire that they should have the power to delegate the office
to some more potential vehicle of the Divine decision. Origi-
nally this would seem to have been the duty of some mem-
ber of the family, as we have seen was the case with the
"compnrgatio canonica." Among the Alamanni, for instance,
a woman when accused could be defended by a kinsman,

* Capit. Liulov. Pii, ann. 819, Cap. X. A soincwlmt similar provision occurs in
the L. nurgund. Tit. XLV. and LXXX.

t Dccreta Guillcl. Bastard i. — Lej,'j;. Ilenrici I. (Wilkins.)

} Bracton, Lib. III. Tract. II. cap. 21, W.— Flctn, Lil.. I. cap. 34, ^ 32. (Du-
can;:c.)

§ fitab. de NormandiCj Tit. " l)c prnn<lre fame U force." (Marnier.)

11 A<>i'*es do Jerasalcm, Cap. 317.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 47

"cum tracta spata";* the same rule is prescribed by the Lom-
bard law f and by that of the Angles, J while the pervading
principle of family unity would lead us to presume that it
prevailed throughout the other races in whose codes it is not
specifically mentioned. As regards the employment of sub-
stitutes, however, for those who were able to protect them-
selves, there appears to have been considerable diversity of
practice in these primitive times. The laws of the Franks,
of the Alamanni, and of the Saxons, make no allusion to such
a custom, and evidently expect the principal to defend his
own rights. From some expressions made use of by Agobard
in his attack on the battle ordeal, we are led to conclude that
under Louis le DdbcTnnaire the employment of champions, in
the Burgundian law, wfts, if not forbidden, at least unusual,
even in cases where age or debility unfitted the suitor for the con-
test § On the other hand, the Baioarians, with whom the duel
was very prevalent, allude to the employment of champions in
every instance, || and with the Lombards the judicial combat
and the champion appear to have likewise been convertible
terms. ^ There is something in this so repugnant to the fierce
and self-relying spirit in which the wager of battle found its
origin, and the use of a professional gladiator is so inconsist-
ent with the pious reference to the judgment of God which
formed the only excuse for the whole system, that we are
forced to attribute its introduction to the liberty allowed of
challenging witnesses. To this we have already alluded, and
its prevalence throughout Western Europe readily enabled par-
ties unwilling themselves to encounter the risks of the deadly
struggle to put forward some truculent bravo who swore point-
blank, and whose evidence would need to be got out of court.
Although the custom of hiring champions must have existed

* L. Alamann. Add. Cap. XXL

t L. Longobard. Lib. L Tit. IH. \ 6, and Lib. 11. Tit LV. f 12.

t L. Anglior. et Werinor. Tit. XIV.

4 " Acddit at freqaenter non solum valcntes yiriboB, sed etiam infinni et senes la-
cessantor ad certamen et pognam etiam pro Tilissimis rebus." — Agobard, Do Im-
pietate Doellici Exam. (Ap. Spelman.)

11 L. Baioar. passim.

^ ''Liceat ei per campionem, id est per pugnam, crimen ipsom de super se si
potoerit ejicere.'' — L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit I. f 8.

48 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

from a very early period, since the Frisian laws speak unblash-
ingly of paid champions,* still the best evidence of their origi*
nal identity with witnesses is to be found at a later date in
England, where, until the first Statute of Westminster, issued
by Edward I. in 1275, the hired champion of the defendant
in a suit concerning real estate was obliged to assume the
position of a witness, by swearing that he had been present
and had seen seizin given of the land, or that his father when
dying had enjoined him by his filial duty to maintain the de-
fendant's title as though he had been presentf And, in a
similar spirit, the early code of Normandy | rescribes that
champions shall be taken to see the lands or buildings in dis-
pute before receiving the oaths of battle, in the same manner
as a jury of view. J Looking on the^ profession of a cham-
pion in this light, as that of a false witness, we can understand
the heavy penalties to which he was subjected in case of de-
feat, and that, while the principal escaped with fine or impris-
onment, the hired ruffian was hanged, or at best lost a hand
or foot, — the immemorial punishment for perjury.§ Another
and a more practical reason for maintaining this severity is
supplied by Beaumanoir, who defends it on the ground of the
liability of champions to be bought over by the adverse party.
The gentle stimulus of prospective mutilation was therefore
held before them to induce them to fight vigorously. || This
was doubtless the object of retaining the custom, long after
its origin had been lost sight of.

With such risks to be encountered, it is no wonder that the
trade oflered few attractions to honest men, who could keep

* Licet nnicuique pro so cjimpioncm mercedc conducere, si cum invcnire potu-
erit." — L. Frision. Tit XIV. Cap. IV.

t (nanvillo, I)e Leg. Angl. Lib. XL Cap. 3.

t Ku\h. de Nonnandie, p. 2L (Maniicr.)

§ "V ictus vcro in duello centum solidos ct obohim reddere tcnebitnr. Pugil
vero conductitius, si victus fucrit, pugno vel i>cdo privabitur." — Charta, ann. 1203.
(Ducanjre.) — Also, Beaumanoir, Cout du Beauv., Chap. LXVIL ^ 10. Ducange
has miriinterprctcd this passage. See also Monteil's excellent Histoire des Fran-
Vais des Divers fetiits, XV« Siccle, Hist. XIII.

|i " Et li campions vaincus a le poing copi' ; car so n'c^toit par Ic mehaing qu'il
empi^rtc, aucuns par barat, se porroit faindre par loier et se damcroit vaincus, par
quoi ses mestres emportcroit le damacc et Ic vilonie, et cil emporteroit I'argcnt; et
por CO est bons li jugemens du mehaing." — Cout du Bcauvoisis, Chap. LXI. ^ u.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 49

body and soul together in any other manner. Reckless des-
peradoes, skilled at quarter-staff, or those whose familiarity
with sword and dagger, earned by a life spent in brawls, gave
them confidence, might undertake it as an occupation which
exposed them to little risk beyond what they habitually in-
curred; and of such was the profession generally composed.
The evil of this must have early made itself apparent, for we
find Charlemagne endeavoring to obviate it by decreeing
that no robber should be allowed to appear in the lists as
champion ; and the order needed to be frequently repeated.*
Accordingly, the occupation was deemed infamous ; its pro-
fessors were classed with the vilest criminals, and with the
unhappy females who exposed their charms for sale, as the
champion did his skill and courage.f They were, therefore,
held incapable of appearing as witnesses, and the extraordi-
nary anomaly was afforded of seeking to learn the truth in
affairs of the highest moment by a solemn appeal to the
Most High, through the instrumentality of those who were
already considered as convicts of the worst kind, or, by the
very act, were branded with infamy if successful, and, if de-
feated, were hanged or mutilated. It is consequently not sin-
gular that numerous efforts were made to put an end to this
state of affairs. Otho II., whose laws did so much to give
respectability to the wager of battle, decreed that champions
should be permitted only to counts, ecclesiastics, women,
boys, old men, and cripples ; :f but this must have been speed-
ily disregarded, for within fifty years we find Henry II.
forbidding the use of champions to able-bodied defendants
simply in cases of parricide or of aggravated murder ; § and
two hundred years later, when Frederic II. abolished the

* ** Ut nemo furem camphium de mancipiis aut de qanlibct causa recipere prs-
samat, sicut sepius Domnas Imperator commendayit.** — Capit. Carol. Mag. ex L.
Longobard. Cap. XXXV. (Baluze.)

t " Percutiat si quis hominem infamem, hoc est lusorem vcl pugilcm, aat muli-
erem publicam," &c. Wichbild Magdeburg, Art. 129. tDucaDge.) — "Plusicurs
larrons, ravisscurs do ferames, violleurs d'^glises, batteurs k loyer," &c. Ordonu.
de Charles VII. ann. 1447. — Also, Anciennes Coutames de Brctagne. (Monteil,
ubisup,)

I L. Longobard. Lib. II. Tit. LV. ^ 38 and 40.

4 L. Longobard. Lib. L Tit. IX. ^ 37, and Tit. X. f 4.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 5

50 CANONICAL COMPURGATION [Jan.

*' campus " in Naples, we are led from his expressions to pre-
sume that champions were almost universally employed.*
Henry II. of England, in 1150, forbade the hiring of profes-
sional gladiators in his Norman dominions,! and we learn
from Glanvillc that a champion suspected of serving for
money might be objected to by the opposite party, whence
arose a secondary combat, to prove his eligibility for the pri-
mary one. J The regulations of Otho 11. were generally
adopted throughout Christendom, to limit^ fighting by proxy
in criminal cases ;§ but in civil actions the employment of
champions was permitted to all,|| and seems to have been
almost universal, as long as the wager of battle maintained
its vitality as a judicial process in common use.

There were two classes of pleaders, however, with whom
the hiring of champions was a necessity. While the woman
whose rights were imperilled could appear by her husband or
next of kin, the ecclesiastical foundations and chartered towns
had no such resource. Their frequent occasion for this species
of service, therefore, led to the employment of regularly ap-
pointed champions, who fought their battles for an annual
stipend, or some other advantages bestowed in payment.
Ducange, for instance, gives us the text of an agreement by
which one GeoflVy Blondel, in 1256, bound himself to the
town of Beauvais, as its champion, for a yearly salary of
twenty sous Parisis, with extra gratifications of ten livrea
Tournois for every time he appeared in arms in their cause,
fifty livres if blows were exchanged, and a hundred livres if
the conflict were carried to a successful issue. This scale of
prices, and Beaumanoir's argument, quoted above, in favor
of mutilating a defeated champion, offer a strong practical
commentary on the fundamental principle upon which the

* '• Vix cnim jiut nanquam duo pngilc3 inveniri potcrunt sic ccqiialcs," &c. —
Con^tit. Sicuhir. Lib. II. Tit. XXXIII.

t '* Nullus corum ducllum facial contra aliqiicm (|ui tcstiticatns sit pugil conduc-
titius j)er sacramcntum decern le^lium civium." — Concil. Ecdes. Rotoma^. p. 128.
(Diiciin«;c.)

t Do Lc-ilius An-lia\ Lib. IL Cap. III.

^ For instance, Assises dc Jerusalem, Cap. 145, 14G. — Buaumauoir, Cout. du
Bcauvoisis, Cbap. LXI. ^ 6 ; Chap. LXIII. § 4.

!1 Bcaumanoir, op. cit. Chap. LXI. § 14.

1859.] AND THE WAGER OF BATTLE. 51

whole system of appealing to the judgment of God was
based, — that success was an evidence of right

The champions of the Church occupied a higher position,
and were bound to defend the interests of their clients in the
open field, as well as in the court and in the lists. Under the
titles of Vidamesj AvauSsj or advocates, they held their place
among the barons and gentlemen of the realm, and many a
noble family traced its rise to the increase of ancestral prop-
erty obtained, directly or indirectly, by thus espousing the
cause of fat abbeys and wealthy monasteries. One of the
worst abuses in the modern ecclesiastical system of England
is derived from this source, and the fantastic crudities of the
Middle Ages are perpetuated, etymologically and practically,
in the advowson which renders the cure of souls too often a
matter of bargain and sale.

If by these dry archaeological details we have succeeded in
illustrating the slow but irresistible progress of the human
mind towards the right ; if, in the limited field selected, we
have seen, amid the maze of force and fraud, how every ap-
parent retrogression has been in reality a step in advance, and
how, under the guidance of an all-wise and inscrutable Provi-
dence, the mists of error have gradually been dissipated, and
the cause of truth, of justice, and of humanity has triumphed
over the accumulated superstitions and prejudices of ages, —
the lesson will not have been in vain. We shall have been
taught to look with patience on the evil which is still around
us, and to anticipate with confidence the yet brighter future,
when perhaps the social problems which still perplex the wisest
will have been solved, and anomalies which now scarce attract
our attention will be regarded with incredulous wonder, such
as moves us when we investigate the eccentricities of the
battle ordeal and of canonical compurgation.

52 THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORUL. [Jan.

Art. II. — Honor to the Illustrious Dead, A Lecture in
Behalf of the Mount Vernon Associaiian, delivered in the
State Capitol^ Nashville, Wednesday,* December, 4, 1857.
By Richard Owen, M. D., Professor in the University

of Nashville. Nashville. 1858.

Gratitude has been defined, by some cynical wit, to be
'' a lively sense of future favors." Poor human nature ! if
this be true. But, like a great many other smart and seem-
ingly profound sayings, it proves only that the wit had kept
very bad company, and not that human nature is devoid of
one of tlie sweetest and noblest of all impulses, — the over-
ilow of a warm heart under a sense of benefits already con-
ferred and enjoyed. That there is danger of past favors being
forgotten, we dare not deny, so keen is our pursuit of future
good, and so absorbing are the interests of the present. But
if there were no other proof that the heart is capable of a
gratitude more true and generous than worldlings believe in,
— a gratitude which reaches the point of enthusiasm, — the
present awakening of public feeling towards the memory of
Wiisliington would suffice to encourage the friends of our
race. It is pure and liigh enough to challenge the respect
and sympatiiy of the angels. We may point to it as a mark
of Heaven's favor, — a sign that Providence has not deserted
us in punishment of our national sins, — a timely revival of
the religion of noble thoughts, — a blessed touch on that
electric cord of sympathy which ought oftener to thrill a
country possessing such an origin and such a common ex-
perience as ours. Let us hail it as an auspicious omen, — as
the inauguration of a new telegraph of the heart, deep laid
and love fraught like that other new bond of humanity, which,
if not now, must erelong awaken the pulses of the continents;
and, seeing these things, let us bless God and take courage.

The labor of love lately commenced with such zeal and
energy by the women of the United States — a memorial of
Washington such as will become more splendid as well as
more precious as the ages How on — may be cause or effect
of the sudden outburst of a feeling deep seated in the Ameri-

1859.] THE MOUNT VERNON MEMOBIAL. 53

can heart. Let it be one or the other, it is good and great.
That it has been undertaken by women, and is to be managed
by them, is a guaranty that no alloy of political self-seeking
or private cupidity will defile it, no cold, calculating policy
stint its execution, and, we may add, no cooling of enthu-
siasm, and even no conceivable obstacle, be suffered to hinder
its completion. The sex's impulsiveness, and even its gen-
eral unacquaintance with the details of business, will not
prove misfortunes in an undertaking like this. It is some-
times a very sorry thing to be far-seeing and too careful of
trifles. In affairs of the heart, a little romance goes further,
and accomplishes jfiove, than a great deal of calculation.
Love is, even when blind, stronger than Fear, who sees too
much. It is a good thing, sometimes, not to know when we
are beaten, and this is peculiarly a feminine trait, where the
affections are concerned.

" Even though vanquished, she can argue still."
We augur all the better of the Washington memorial because
it is undertaken by the so-called weaker sex, proverbially
strong when it has made up its mind ;

** For when she will she will, you may depend on 't.
And when she won't she won't, and there 's an end on 't.

She willy in this case. All honor to the warm Southern heart
in which the thought was born. Let us of the colder North
see to it that no zeal in following be wanting.

But even now we may speak of the enterprise as already a
success. When were ever such sums collected, by voluntary
gift, in so short a time ? Ladies sitting at home have many
hundreds poured into their laps in a day. A school-boy, in
his play hours, gathers, in less than three weeks, nearly a
thousand dollars. To ask and have is all that is necessary.
** Thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part."

Money seems the least part of the affair, in this case ; feeling
carries all before it.

When in 1789 the Father of his Country passed through
Trenton on his way to New York to take the oaths as Presi-
dent, the public enthusiasm was unbounded, and processions
and salvoes attended his progress ; but that which formed the
5*

54 XnE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. [Jao.

crown and glory of the demonstration was a band of young
girls, with a majestic and beautiful background of mothers,
who met him at the entrance of the bridge, sang their simple
song of welcome, and scattered flowers before him, hailing
him as deliverer and benefactor. It is said, — and indeed
Washington said, — that he found himself completely over-
come by this tender greeting. His habitual self-command for-
sook him, his heart overflowed at the eyes, and he could find
no words with which to make fit reply or acknowledgment

Another feminine tribute is in preparation, and we can
fancy him recognizing and feeling it. It is as if the daughters
and granddaughters and far posterity of ^those grateful moth-
ers were forming themselves into a great and beautiful band,
with new songs and garlands, and bringing their children to
claim kindred with the glorious women of the elder day, —
women without whose courage and self-sacrifice there would
b(» little room for exultation now.

The imagination loves to contemplate this fair procession,
collecting from the South, the West, the East, the North, — to
follow these pure songs and this grateful fragrance, ascending
to the skies ; and can hardly be restrained from believing that
he to whom is dedicated this homage of the heart may be
permitted to recognize and enjoy such proofs that his toils
and sacrifices, his virtues and services, are held in sweet and
sacred memory. And why not? Enjoyment of the fruits
of goodness is surely not unhcavenly.

As to the contemplated memorial, we would say a few
words.

Sir Christopher Wren's monument in St. Paul's bears per-
ha|)s the happiest inscription ever devised : " Si monumentum
rcfjiiiris, circvmspiceP The man on whose tomb these words
would be out of place should lie down quietly beneath the
green mound which mother Nature provides for all her chil-
dren, and at most desire only the simple tablet consecrated
by private aflection, which may serve for a few years to pro-
tect his ashes from disturbance. " Their works shall praise
them,'' says that great Book which contains the seeds and
the fruit of all human experience and observation. And if,
after such praise, the little column, reaching a few hundred

1859.] THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. 55

feet towards the clouds, spring up, it becomes, and is felt by
all to be, a sort of toy, — a something to be gazed on by the
crowd on holidays, or, at best, admired by the cultivated eye
for its symmetry and beauty. Its connection with the rever-
ence it is m^ant to symbolize is remote, cold, shadowy. In
our day it is primarily a mark for criticism. The leading idea
is set aside, and those best qualified to appreciate the motive
are, by some fatality of what is called civilization, the first to
pour contempt upon the performance, imperfect of course,
and appealing rather to feeling than to intellect. The crowd,
unskilled to justify its admiration, is quick to catch the trick
of despising, and the end is desecration and neglect.

In ages less falsely proud and less sophisticated there was
no difficulty about monuments. It is as natural for the hu-
man heart to commemorate, as to love and admire. Only the
savage is willing to forget. Time's ceaseless flow, unchecked,
carries with it the precious and the worthless, almost alike,
and for grateful Memory to set up at least stones in the brook
is wise and gracious. Something by way of record there
must and will be ; the only question is, — What ?

If most men do too little to deserve monuments, and are
made only ridiculous by great, swelling words of vanity in-
scribed above their unhonored graves, there are others whose
tombs are left long unbuilt, from a universal feeling that every
effort to commemorate, in marble or imperishable bronze, the
world's sense of their merit, will necessarily prove insignifi-
cant and vain.

If anything has been established by half a century of abor-
tive attempts, it is that a Washington monument which shall
satisfy the nation is impossible in the United States. All the
graceful columns, the elaborate piles, the hideous jumbles,
that have borne that name, to the contrary notwithstanding,
the American people — the millions that call Washington
Pater Patrim — can never express their idea of his worth by
anything that human hands can build, though the pile should
reach higher than Nimrod's impious dream, or the tallest
mountain within our wide bounds be hewn into a portrait-
statue. Size, as an expression of reverence, is barbarous ;
expense natural, but cockneyish. The moment ideas of size

56 THE MOUNT YBRNON MEMORIAL. [Jan.

and expense take the lead in the conceptipn of a reverential
structure, the result assumes at once the dignity and satisfac-
toriness of a stone-cutter's bill. The bigger the pile, the more
it reminds one of the Frog and the Ox. Strain our resources
as we will, the feeling may be genuine, but the rosult is only
an immeasurable stone-cutter's bill at last The great pyra-
mid is, as a monument, simply ridiculous ; we respect Cheops,
or whomsoever else it may once have enshrined, all the less
for having been the cause of so silly a tomb. The sentiment
of reverence refuses to connect itself in any way with mere
heaps. We cannot think of the pile and the hero at the
same time. If a true conception of greatness fill the soul, a
hug(» tumulus is to us as a child's garden, over which we
tread unconsciously in gazing at a great, glorious landscape,
Hooded with dazzling sunlight

Our memorial must, then, be something exquisite, — ex-
pressive rather of thought, feeling, and skill, than of labor;
more suggestive than ambitious ; appealing not to criticism,
but to love ; belonging at once to past, present, and future ;
meeting universal tastes, whether uncultivated or refined ;
enduring in its nature, yet susceptible of continual growth in
elegance as Time shall unfold new resources ; associated so in-
timately with the idea on which it is founded, and dissociated
so completely from the vanity of any individual, that it is in
no danger from the encroachments of vulgar egotism. Such
arc some of the requisites. Materials for such a monument
to Washington — for a memorial more nearly worthy of what
we feel than any which has yet been attempted — are now
presented in Mount Vernon, the beloved dwelling and chosen
resting-place of our country's great type and pattern, the
American man, whose passion was domestic improvement
and the cultivation of the earth, although his solemn and re-
luctant business was war.

The idea is unique, — unparalleled in the New World and
even in the Old. Splendid estates have, especially in Eng-
land, been bestowed upon successful warriors, and these con-
tinue long to receive the visits of the curious ; for whether
the multitude care for Marlborough or not, rural beauty is
always attractive. But in all these cases the associative link

1859.] THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. 57

between the sylvan paradise thus dedicated and the soldier
to whose success or popularity it testifies, is comparatively
feeble. Little of the man is there. The power that bestowed,
or the taste and magnificence that willed the gift, is the prom-
inent thought. Wellington's narrow camp-bed and scanty
writing-apparatus speak more touchingly of him than all the
splendors of Strathfieldsaye. The venerable oaks of Wood-
stock bring up the shade of the Great Magician of the North
more forcibly, as well as more sweetly, than the hero of Ra-
millies and Malplaquet, in spite of the huge vulgarity of
gilded cannon-balls that arrests the eye on the roofs of Blen-
heim. Luxurious beauty there is, and massive dignity too,
and many a reminiscence of the past What is wanting is
personaMy. There is an extraneous rather than a personal
interest about this magnificent domain, decreed by a grateful
nation for a hero's rest after the toils of war. It seems
never to have been fully his own ; his mind, character, and
feelings in no degree permeate palaces and gardens bought
and bestowed after he was a finished man. His memory is a
secondary thing among these heaped splendors, now in pos-
session of descendants who are grand nobodies, prone to
scowl at visitors who recognize only the departed greatness.

Thus, although the idea of a rural dwelling and rural
beauties on a magnificent scale as a national monument has
the sanction of time and great example, the patriotic enter-
prise of our ladies possesses advantages of a peculiar kind.
Every acre of Mount Vernon, as well as every apartment of
the stately old house there, is filled with the spirit of him to
whose beloved memory it is to be consecrated. His mind
and heart still live there, and all the hill and tree and river
spirits know his name. The sepulchre, planned by himself
with his characteristic simplicity and modesty, now dilapi-
dated and forlorn, yet full of dignity to the reverent eye, does
not speak of him more intimately than do the groves and
lawns he planted, and the plain house he loved. On no other
spot of earth did he look with such pleasure ; over no other
landscape did his eye ever wander with such insatiate de-
light. For more than half a century it was his beloved home,
enjoyed whenever duty permitted, improved and adorned with

58 THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. [Jan.

untiring interest during every interval of rest ; longed for
unceasingly through those weary, anxious, glorious years,
whose toils and sacrifices allowed scarce a private joy, and
greeted with heart and soul when, flushed with success and
crowned with a whole world's honor, he was at last permitted
to seek its shelter and shade, for eyes almost blinded by the
(»xcess of light in which he had been forced to live. Every
tree had its history for him, and is to us consecrated by his
planting or his culture. The earliest pleasure of his home-
duy was a walk or a ride over those beloved acres ; the last
at night, a long, reflective pacing of the flagged porch from
which he could sec the moonlight on the river. He carried
the image of Mount Vernon with him wherever he went,
and found time to plan its regulation and order its culture
during the busiest periods of the war and of the Presidency.

It may be only a fanciful surmise, but it seems something
more, that the predominating love of rural scenery, occupa-
tions, and pleasures was closely connected with the purity,
the deliberate nobleness, and the magnanimous self-control of
Washington's life. If, like too many who feel within them-
selves the stirring elements of great attempts, — not always
the true prophets of great deeds, — he had fretted under the
(luit't and humility of country employments, all that he did at
Mount Vernon would have been a mere enlr^arte, from which
no conclusion could be drawn as to his character, and which
the imagination would vainly seek to ally in any significant
manner with the peculiar aspects of his public life. But to prize
country life ; to find an ever new delight in the cultivation of
the soil ; to view mother Earth with a truly filial reverence
and aflection ; to watch the sailing clouds with a lover's tire-
less gaze ; to be able, after the highest public employments
crowned with the most splendid success, to say with heartfelt
sincerity, " Agriculture is the most healthful, the most useful,
and Ihe most noble employment of man"; — this bespeaks a
peculiar calmness, a power acquired over self, — for Washing-
ton's was a fiery, glowing temperament, — the most philo-
sophical conception of life's true uses, the wisest reference
to that still, searching, future time, when a court of inquiry
must be held in the private soul, and a review must be taken

1859.] THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. 59

of what has been done, and what has been left undone, in
the most glorious human career, — a review anticipative of
that great audit when the final sentence is to be rendered.

There was a sentiment about Mount Vernon from the
beginning. Lawrence Washington, when he purchased the
estate, chose to name it after Admiral Vernon, under whom
he had served at Carthagena, — a significant fancy, corre-
sponding well with a certain vein which one discovers early
in the study of Washington's turn of mind, as displayed in
letters and journals written long before he became famous.
The Washingtons were, in those dim, distant days, people of
thought, feeling, and a high sense of honor. It was not to
no purpose that Mrs. Washington, while her gallant sons yet
stood boys at her knee, imbued them with the calm and noble
sentiments of Sir Matthew Hale. Their entrance into active
life was guarded on all sides by worthy and patriotic thoughts,
planted by that wise mother as sentinels against all insidious
approaches of evil. Mount Vernon became to Lawrence the
memorial of a gallant sailor who had been a hero to him, both
by public conduct and private kindness ; and George, then a
boy, and a frequent inmate of his brother's family, had thus a
domestic example, both kindly and dignified, in his elder
brother's respect and love for his old commander. When he
afterwards, as a direct consequence of his affectionate care,
excellent judgment, and already matured integrity, before he
was of age, received this very Mount Vernon as a legacy from
his brother, who died early, he thought not of changing the
name first bestowed by peculiar and individual feeling, but
set himself about adorning the place, adding to its area by
gradual purchases, and bringing up the whole towards his
own ideal of what a rural property ought to be. From that
day to the day of his death his choicest pleasure was the care
of those acres, — thirteen hundred in number ultimately, — of
which the more personal and interesting two hundred, includ-
ing those on which stand the mansion and offices, and those
made priceless by the presence of sacred dust never to be dis-
turbed, are to become the property of the nation represented
by the many, many thousands who are pressing forward to
cast their grateful offerings into the treasury of the Ladies'
Mount Vernon Association.

60 THE MOUNT VERNON MEMORIAL. [Jan.

It is a noble enterprise ; may it be worthily carried out !
Anxiourfly and carefully it will be, there can be no shadow of
doubt. Counsel will be sought, precedents collated, examples
galluTcd, wherever taste has presided and science operated
amid trees and lawns, shrubbery and flowers. Louis Napo-
leon's grand designs, Paxton's magical achievements, Down-
ing's visions of American possibilities in rural effects, the
latest discoveries in horticulture, the highest authorities in
garden architecture, — all will be studied, and made to con-
tribute to the result. The climate is most genial, allowing
full scope to art and nature. Plants of northern and southern
habits thrive almost equally well there, and winter affords
almost as many beauties as summer. All must be brought
to bear. The plan should be magnificent as the thought was
ha|)|)y ; the reverence which inspires should guide the taste
which executes. No professional pertinacity should avail to
introduce vulgarities, however sanctioned by tradition or the
popular fancy ; and in architecture no unwise ambition should
be allowed to project wonders which are sure to be deform-
ities to a large portion of the beholders. If the one grand,
leading idea govern, as it should, every part of the design,
nature, simplicity, and a truly rural grace will prevail through-
out, and every " alley green" and "pleached bower" will be
such as Washington himself would have delighted in, wheth-
er at " rising morn," his favorite hour, " sweet with song of
earliest birds," or walking with (iod in the garden in the cool
of the day.

It has been suggested, and, as it seems to us, with some
propriety, that from a circle including the house, with its fine
semicircular sweep of colonnades and offices, designed by
Washington himself, all change should be excluded, and the
sole elVort be to preserve everything in the highest order, and
to prevent all symi)toms of decay or dilapidation by judicious
repairs ; while, outside of this charmed and sacred boundary,
every resource of modern art should be taxed to produce such
a plcasauncc for quiet crowds, as only the imagination has
yet pictured. If some limit to change be not irrevocably pre-
scribed, all that is truly characteristic of Washington will soon
disappear, and Mount Vernon degenerate into an ordinary
show-place, — which Heaven avert!

EDMtWD BtJRICB,

Another suggestion — simply hideous, but on that account
the more alarming, because numbers will surely approve it —
is to "beautify*' Moant Vernon with the monuments of
** great " men, that is, to turn it into a larger Congreseional
burying-gTound, where the member from Buncombe, who has
been able to accumulate a "pile'* in California^ may have it
all converted into marble, and placed above his relics, or the
last successful demagogue, killed in a brawl, may be sure of
a pyramid at least, contributed by kindred spirits.

We would have the whole one grand monument, — majes*
tic, beautiful, living; we would not divide bis sacredness by
the introduction even of the name we love best. If we tol-
erated any accessory interest, — as particular sites must uii»
doubtedly be distinguished by appropriate designations, — we
would give to some beauteous eminence, that should com-
mand a view of the whole, the name of the lady who origi-
nated the plan of the memorial ; and find, in some spot made
beautiful alike by sun and shade, by art and nature, room for
an Everett Fountain* Further than this, we could not be per-
suaded to go.

PP-

Art. IIL — 1, HiMory of the Life and Times o/Edmund Burke.
By Thomas Macknight, Author of** The Right Hon. B. D*l3-
raeli, M, P., a Literary and Political Biography ''; and ^^ Thir-
ty Years of Foreign Policy : a History of the Secretary ships
of the Earl of Aberdeen and Viscount Palmerston/' Vols,
L and H. London : Chapman and Hall. 1858. 8vo,
xxxi, and 527, 556,

2. TJie Works and Correspondence of the Right Honorable Ed-
mund BuHKE. A New Edition. London: Francis and
John Rivington. 1852. 8 vols. 8vo.

We welcome a new Life of Edmund Burke witli much satis-
faction. When Dr. Bisset wrote, the materials for a thorough
and comprehensive survey of the subject were far less abundant
and valuable than those which we now possess ; and although
his work is an authority upon some points, and is not without

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182, 6

62 EDMUND fiURKE. [Jan.

literary merit, it is almost forgotten. Of the more recent biog-
raphers of Burke, both Croly and Prior were Tories, having lit-
tle sympathy with the principles which he advocated during the
earlier part of his career, and reserving their heartiest praise for
his denunciations of the French Revolution. Neither produced
a work which satisfies the requirements of the subject. Dr.
Croly's Life was written to subserve a temporary purpose, and
it is little more than an overgrown political pamphlet Its
style is vivacious and brilliant; but the narrow views and par-
tisan aims of the writer would repel many readers, even if his
work professed to exhibit a complete view of its hero, instead
of being restricted to a single phase of his character. Mr.
Prior's Life is a work of greater pretension, and has long held
an established place in biographical literature. Nor do we
suppose that it will be soon superseded. The author was in-
timately acquainted with Burke's various productions ; he had
a just appreciation of his unrivalled genius ; and he had access
to numerous unpublished letters. His picture of Burke's pri-
vate life is minute in its details, and upon the whole satisfac-
tory. But when the biographer passes from the domestic
circle and the friendly group into the arena of party warfare,
he signally fails to do justice to his theme, and we are often
compelled to take issue with him upon his recorded opinions
of men and measures. His style is singularly hard and in-
dexible, and is sometimes marked by even graver faults.

Mr. Macknight's History is not yet complete, and his narra-
tive is brought down only to the resignation of the Rocking-
liam Whigs, in the summer of 1782. But enough has been
published to enable us to speak of it in general terms as a
work of solid and enduring excellence. Mr. Macknight has
thoroughly mastered his subject; he has brought to it a large
acquaintance with political history ; and he has studied it by
the light of those invaluable family documents which have
been given to the public in such profusion within the last fif-
teen or twenty years. His plan is broad and well defined,
and includes both the public and the private life of Burke.
His researches, it is true, have not been rewarded by the dis-
covery of much new. material ; but he has made a judicious
use of such facts as he has first brought to light, as well as of

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 63

all that are accessible in print. His language is generally clear
and forcible, and sometimes rises into genuine eloquence. But
it must also be conceded, that it is often diffuse, careless, and
incorrect; and occasionally we meet with a bit of tawdry fus-
tian, which would seem to indicate that the writer had not
bestowed much care upon the revision of his work. This im-
pression is strengthened by observing the number of typo-
graphical blunders in different parts of the volumes. Certainly
no man in his senses would deliberately print such a sentence
as the following in reference to the publication of the debates
in Parliament " The new House of Commons," Mr. Mac-
knight remarks, " though perhaps both the most arbitrary and
the most servile which had been chosen since the Revolution,
was, by the exertions of Burke, destined to be the last that
could hide its proceedings from the light of day ; and the foul
spectre which darkness had engendered, shrank away from
that glorious Lucifer, son of the morning, the reporter in the
gallery."* It is not often that we find worse specimens of
rhetoric run mad; and a writer of Mr. Macknight's ability
who descends to such platitudes and anti-climaxes deserves
the severest criticism. The same want of taste is even more
apparent in the headings of his chapters. " In the Forlorn
Hope of Politicians," " Faithful among the Faithless," " Ful-
filled Prophecies," '* Through KeppePs Agony of Glory," " At
the .Hour of England's Necessity and of Ireland's Opportu-
nity," " Storm and Victory," are among the many absurd cap-
tions which he has deliberately chosen. A strong partisan
bias in favor of Burke, diffuseness, and a fondness for swollen
sentences and mixed metaphors, are the author's besetting
sins.

The edition of Burke's Works and Correspondence before
us comprises all of his writings usually printed under this title, .
together with some letters and notes of speeches which had
previously remained in manuscript. But it does not include
the ** Account of the European Settlements in America," the
authorship of which is in doubt, nor any of his speeches which
were not revised by himself, f It is, indeed, a striking circum-

♦ Vol. I. p. 291.

t The Accoant is reprinted in the beautiful edition of Burke's Works published

64 EDMUND BUBKE. [Jan.

stance, as noted by Mr. Macknight, that " neither a complete
edition of Burke's Correspondence, nor a complete edition of
his Works, has yet been added to the literature of the country
he adorned." We are firmly of the opinion, however, that
his reputation has not suffered in the general judgment by the
omirision of the inadequate reports of his Parliamentary elo-
quence which alone remain in the Cavendish Debates and
other contemporary records. Yet it is only by a careful ex-
amination of these reports, even in their imperfect and unsat-
isfactory state, that we can form a just estimate of Burke's
powers, and of his real relations with his contemporaries. In
the mean time, this edition of his Works is in several respects
the best that has been published.

Altliough the ancestors of Edmund Burke had been settled
in Ireland for many generations, they did not belong to the
aboriginal race, but were derived from an Anglo-Norman
stock. His father was a respectable attorney in Dublin, of
small means and with a numerous family ; and it was in this
city tliat the statesman was born. The year of his birth is
not known, and is differently given by diflerent biographers.
Mr. Prior, without recognizing the uncertainty which exists
upon this point, says that he was born in 1730. The editors
of Burke's Correspondence, with greater probability, fix upon
tlie y(»ar 1728. Between these conflicting statements, Mr.
Macknight is in doubt ; but he seems inclined to adopl; an
intermediate date, and finally accepts 1729. Of these three
dates, Mr. Prior's is certainly supported by the smallest weight
of authority, and the suppositions by which it is sustained
may be safely pronounced altogether untenable. On the oth-
er hand, the registry of Burke's admission to the College of
Dublin, which bears date April 14, 1743, describes him as
being then in his sixteenth year; and liis epitaph in Beacons-
field Church, after giving the date of his death, July 9, 1797,
adds tluit he was sixty-eight. But we are told by the editors

some years since by Messrs. Little nml Hrown, of thi?i city. Mr. Prior entertains no
(loul>t of its authenticity, and Mr. Macknij;l»t is iMpmlly clear that Burke was "the
I>rincipal, if not solo, author." IJut Hurke tiiniKolf daiil that he only revised it; and
it has not been included in any Kn;;li>h edition of his works. For various reasons,
wo are inclined to accept I-iord Macartney's assertion, that it was a joint prodnctiOD,
to which Burke contributed.

1869.] EDMDND BURKE. 65

of his Correspondence, it was subsequently the impression of
his family that he was older than had been supposed. In a
postscript to a letter to the Marquis of Rockingham dated
January 12, 1775, he says, " My birthday, — I need not say how
long ago." We may conclude, therefore, in the want of pos-
itive evidence, that he was born on the 12th of January, 1728.
According to this view, he was twenty-one years older than
Fox, thirty-one years older than Pitt, and nearly twenty-four
years older than Sheridan.

Of his early life not much is known ; and it is supposed
that previously to his death he destroyed all the family letters
in his possession which might throw light upon the subject.
He is said to have been of a weak and delicate constitution,
and to have spent a considerable part of his time at Castle-
town Roche, the residence of his mother's family, who were
Catholics. In the spring of 1741 he was sent to a classical
school at Ballytore, a little village about thirty miles from
Dublin. Here he remained only two years; but he made
considerable progress in his studies, and always retained a
pleasant recollection of the school. The earliest of his pub-
lished letters are addressed to the son of his old teacher, and
this juvenile friendship was kept fresh through his whole life.
In Parliament he bore honorable testimony to the virtues of
his first schoolmaster. " He had been educated," he said in
one of his speeches at the time of the No-Popery riots in
1780, " as a Protestant of the Church of England by a Dis-
senter who was an honor to his sect, though that sect was. con-
sidered one of the purest Under his eye he had read the Bible
morning, noon, and night, and had ever since been the hap-
pier and better man for such reading." Early in 1743 he was
entered of Trinity College, Dublin ; and in 1748 he took his
Bachelor's degree. But he does not appear to have distin-
guished himself at college. His reading had been desultory ;
he had a taste for versifying; and, with his impulsive nature,
he was not likely to apply himself very closely to branches of
learning in which he was not specially interested. Yet he
enlarged and strengthened his mind by extensive reading in
natural philosophy, logic, mathematics, history, and poetry,
the last of which was his favorite study. He also took part in
6*

66 EDMUND BUBKE. [Jan.

a Debating Society, of which many of his college friends were
members; and in 1747 he received a vote of thanks for de-
claiming in character Moloch's address to the fallen angels.

In 1747 he was admitted at the Middle Temple ; and early
in 1750 he went to London. For the law he had little incli-
nation ; and he kept his terms with great irregularity. Liter-
ature beguiled him from less agreeable professional studies,
and ill-health was a sufficient plea for withdrawing for a time
from the dust and turmoil of the great city. During his va-
cations he made several excursions to different parts of Eng-
land, in company with his kinsman, William Burke ; and in
one of his letters to Shackleton he has given an amusing ac-
count of the curiosity excited in the country people by his
studious and retired habits. The same unsatisfied curiosity
has descended to our own time ; and his biographers are as
much in doubt respecting his way of life during his first years
in England as was his landlady at Turlaine. ^'I believe that
you be gentlemen," she said to Burke and his companion,
'' but I ask no questions." Indeed, it is not until he entered
Parliament, in 1766, that we have much satisfactory informa-
tion about his personal history. It seems probable that he
derived a small income from his literary labors, and that he
received some remittances from his father. But there are no
existing traces of his having published anything previous to
the appearance of the *' Vii^dication of Natural Society."
Manuscripts of an earlier date, however, were found among
his papers, and arc printed with his Works.

About this time he entertained a design of coming to this
country ; and it has been stated that he was offered a consid-
erable employment in New York. The design was relin-
quished in consequence of his father's opposition ; and in a
letter printed by Mr. Prior he very dutifully says : « I have
nothing nearer my heart than to make you easy ; and I have
no scheme or design, however reasonable it may seem to me,
that I would not gladly sacrifice to your (luiet, and submit to
your judgment." Still he was not called to the bar, and he
does not appear to have bestowed much further thought or
time upon the study of the law. He had not been idle ; and
two years after the publication of Bolingbroke's posthumous

1869.] EDMUND BUKKB. 67

works, he gave to the world a little pamphlet entitled " A Vin-
dication of Natural Society : or a View of the Miseries and
Evils arising to Mankind from every Species of Civil Society,
in a Letter to Lord * * * *, by a late Noble Writer." In this
keen and pleasant satire he imitated the polished style of
Lord Bolingbroke with so much success, that Chesterfield
and Warburton at first believed it to be an authentic work.
Its whole tone and spirit were skilfully copied from Boling-
broke's writings, and it shows at once Burke's power of
mimicry and the extent and variety of his reading. Ancient
and modern history are alike brought into the service of his
argument, and, by an artful choice and arrangement of his
materials, he easily makes the worse appear the better reason.
Some writers, indeed, have supposed that in this essay Burke
was arguing from his own convictions. But few persons will
accept this view, who carefully consider the nature of the
argument, or who are familiar with the character of Burke's
mind. In truth, it can be regarded only as an evidence of the
strength of his powers, and of the readiness with which he
could find plausible arguments in defence of the most absurd
opinions.

Encouraged by the success of this work, he published, a
few months afterwards, a more elaborate production, which
he had written many years before, but which had hitherto
rested quietly in his desk. The " Philosophical Inquiry into
the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful " had
even more success than his former work, and a second editiori
was published in the following year, to which he prefixed a
brief introductory paper on Taste, and made large additions.
But the theory propounded in this Inquiry was very narrow
and fallacious, and has often been ridiculed with great se-
verity by subsequent writers on the subject. Indeed, Lord
Jeffrey does not hesitate to say, in his discourse upon Beauty :
" Of all the suppositions that have been at any time hazarded
to explain the phenomena of beauty, this, we think, is the
most unfortunately imagined, and the most weakly supported.
There is no philosophy in the doctrine, and the fundamental
assumption is in every way contradicted by the most familiar
experience." Burke was often importuned, in later years, to

08 EDMUND BURKE. [Jao.

reprint this treatise, but he always declined, though it does
not appear that he ever doubted the correctness of his theory.
Considered nnerely as the production of a young man at col-
lege*, the essay is full of promise, and much of it may still be
read with interest and profit, for the just observations and
striking descriptions which it contains.

Not long after the publication of these two works, Burke
married. Unsuccessful attempts have been made in London,
Bristol, and Bath to ascertain the time and place of his mar-
riage. But it is believed to have been in the early part of
1707 ; and, as Mrs. Burke was a Catholic, it is probable that
the marriage ceremony was performed according to the rites
of the Romish Church. The early part of his married life
Burke spent in the family of his father-in-law, Dr. Nugent, a
distinguished physician in London. In February, 1758, his
first son, Richard Burke, was born. In the following Decem-
ber he again became a father, but the child died in infancy.
The elder son. in whom all the father's hopes were centred,
died in 1794, three years before his own death. " I live in an
inverted order," he says, in reference to this great sorrow, in
the ** Letter to a Noble Lord." " They who ought to have
succeeded me have gone before me. They w^ho should have
been to me as posterity arc in the place of ancestors. I owe
to the dearest relation (which ever must subsist in memory)
that act of piety which he would have performed to me; I
owe it to him to show that he was not descended, as the
Duke of Bedford would have it, from an unworthy parent."
Mrs. Burke survived her husband nearly fifteen years ; and
during liis whole married life he seems to have found in her
a congenial and hel|)rul companion. She is described as a
person of great sweetness o( temper, accomplished, energetic,
and devoted. Sneh W(» kiunv was Hurke's own opinion of
her; for he has drawn her cliaraeter in a well-remembered
and beautiful sketch of a i)<'rf(»et wif(», which he gave her
upon the anniversary (»f llieir iuarri;»g(».

In the same year in which hi» was married the " Account
of the Kuropean Settlements in Anierieti '* was first published.
We have already «»x|)resse(l tin* opinion that Burke was not
the sole author of this eompilalion. Hut we have little doubt

18S9J

EDMUND BUEKE.

that he was concerned in its preparation ; and this opinion,
which is based partly upon internal evidence and partly upon
contemporary testimony, is confirmed by the fact that the
original assignment of the copyright for fifty guineas is in
Burke*s handwriting. The work claims to be little more than
a compilation, but it is clearly and graphically written, and
the curious reader will not fail to notice some judicious re-
marks upon colonial relations, and other subjects then agitat-
ing the public mind in England. The writers had collected
much new and curious information both from public and pri-
vate sources, and the work met an existing want, which in-
sured the success of the publication. Some of its statements
are still quoted as authoritative, particularly those relating to
the British colonies ; but other portions have been superseded
by Dn Robertson's History of America and the still more ad-
mirable labors of our own countrymen.

A few months later Burke gave to the world the " Es-
say towards an Abridgment of the English History." In
this work he evidently designed to exhibit the gradual pro-
gress of the nation in it^s laws, manners, and social habits^
rather than to present a full and rapid narrative of events.
Accustomed to deal with large generalizations rather than
with minute details, he made his essay a dissertation upon
English history, and not a history in the common acceptation
of the word. Unfortunately, he did not complete his desigUi
and the work closes abruptly with the granting of Magna
Charta. But it bears the marks of his resplendent powers,
and as an historical fragment it possesses a value entirely
independent of the fame of the UTiter. To the interest which
he took in this study of the early annals of England we prob-
ably owe the first suggestion of another historical work, which
he commenced in the same year, under the title of '* The An-
nual Register*" For this work he wrote the historical chap-
ters for many years, and also contributed some other papers,
for an annual salary of one hundred pounds. His history of
current events, which was the most important feature in the
work, is often quoted, and is justly admired ; but it is a curi*
ous circumstance, that no part of it has ever been reprinted in
his Works.

70 EDMUND BURKE. [Jan.

He had hitherto taken little share in the discussion of polit-
ical questions, and was unconnected with any party. His
tastes were for the most part literary, and the impression
which he appears to have produced was that of a person who
was more familiar with books than with men. " I dined with
your secretary yesterday," said Horace Walpole, in a letter
written in July, 1761 ; " there were Garrick and a young Mr.
Burke, who wrote a book in the style of Lord Bolingbroke,
that was much admired. He is a sensible man, but has not
worn off his authorism yet, and thinks there is nothing so
charming as writers, and to be one. He will know better one
of these days." Yet, two years before he was thus described
by tliis keen observer, he had evinced a disposition to enter
public life, and in the Chatham Papers is a letter recommend-
ing him as a suitable person for a vacant consulship at Ma-
drid. For some reason he failed to receive the appointment,
and in the same year he formed a connection with William
Gerard Hamilton, the exact nature of which has never been
understood, though it is probable that Burke was to perform
for Hamilton the same friendly service which Frederick the
Great had recently exacted of Voltaire. Hamilton had en-
tered Parliament some years before, and had almost immedi-
ately risen to distinction upon the extraordinary success of his
first speech in the House of Commons. He had already held
ollice, and was in the fair way of advancement, when Burke
was introduced to him by Lord Charlemont, a friend of both,
and a countryman of Burke. Two years afterward Ham-
ilton's patrt)n, Lord Halifax, was made Lord Lieutenant
of Ireland, and Hamilton was appointed Chief Secretary.
Hurke acc'(>m|)anied his new friend to Ireland, and appears
to have been an active and efficient laborer in Hamilton's
service. When the change of ministry took place in England
iu 17<>'^, upon the resignation of the Duke of Newcastle, the
Lord Lieutenant, his Secretary, and Hurke, whose position
cannot easily be descriheti, recrossed the Channel to look
after their own interests. They wi're so far successful in the
object of their visit that Hamilton was appointed Secretary
to the Earl of Northumberland, the new Lord Lieutenant,
and again returned to Ireland with Ihirke.

1859.] EDMUND BURKE, 71

At firdt Burke had no ostensible office or salary, but in
1763 be received a pension of three hundred pounds per an-
num, chargeable upon the Irish treasury. This pension he
afterwards assigned to Hamilton's attorney at the time of
their rupture, although he distinctly asserts that he was less
indebted for it to that gentleman than to either of the other
three persons concerned in procuring it. Of Burke's history
at this period, as we have remarked, very little is known,
but whatever may have been the nature of his relations with
Hamilton, the connection was productive of little satisfaction.
At length, in the early part of 1765, they came to an open
and violent rupture. Burke's version of the origin of the
quarrel is, that Hamilton demanded of him services which
would have deprived him of all moral and intellectual free-
dom, and have effectually closed all the avenues to advance-
ment.

" The occasion of our difference," he says in a letter to Henry Flood,
" was not any act whatsoever on my part ; it was entirely upon his ;
by a voluntary, but most insolent and intolerable demand, amounting
to no less than a claim of servitude during the whole course of my life,
without leaving to me, at any time, a power of either getting forward
with honor, or of retiring with tranquillity. This was really and truly
the substance of his demand upon me, to which I need not tell you that
I refused, with some degree of indignation, to submit."

Both parties were excessively angry. Hamilton refused to
see Burke, alleging that he should not be able to control his
temper, on account of his lively sense of the unkindness of the
former " companion of his studies," and his friends circulated
reports highly injurious to Burke. On the other hand, Burke,
in his letters to his friends, aired his vocabulary with great
freedom, and showed that he was a perfect master of the art
of vituperation.

" I shall never," he says in one letter, " look upon those who, after
hearing the whole story, do not think me perfectly right, and do not
consider Hamilton as an infamous scoundrel, to be in the smallest de-
gree my friends, or even to be persons for whom I am bound to have
the slightest esteem, as fair or just estimators of the characters and
conduct of men."

The breach was never healed, though both parties lived for
more than thirty years after its occurrence.

72 EDMUND BURKE. [JaD.

Shortly after this rupture Burke formed a new connection,
which became a source of permanent satisfaction to him, and
influenced the whole course of his subsequent life. His friends
naturally shared his indignation against Hamilton, and sought
to procure for him a position in which his powers might have
free exercise. Hamilton himself asserted that Burke had left
him for the purpose of joining another patron, probably one
of the Townshends; but the charge is emphatically denied by
Burke, in a letter to a friend in Ireland. It is certain, how-
ever, that his friends made interest for him with the Marquis
of Rockingham, to whom he was introduced by Mr. William
Fitzherbert, a leading member in the party of that nobleman.
The result of their recommendations was his appointment as
private secretary to Lord Rockingham, in July, 1765, when
the Rockingham Whigs came into office. Lord Rockingham
himself, as head of the party, became prime minister. He
was a nobleman of pure and disinterested patriotism, free
from all personal aims, and of sound judgment upon most
subjects ; but he was feeble in body, disinclined to public
speaking, and not of superior talents. No position, therefore,
could at that time have been better suited to call out the
strength of Burke's great powers as a writer. From the first
bis pen was enlisted in defence of the opinions and policy of
the party ; and when he entered Parliament, in the following
December, as member for the borough of Wendover, he
at once took a prominent rank as a speaker. Neither Mr.
Dowdcswell nor Sir George Savile, the most distinguished
members of the party in the Lower House, could aspire to
cijual oratorical power with him, and gradually Burke became
the princii)al advocate of the views of the party in Parlia-
ment, thus uniting in his own i)erson the dissimilar functions
of writer and speaker.

His lirst speech was delivered in January, 1766, upon the
question of receiving a petition of the Colonial Congress
setting forth tin* gric^vanccs iinch'r which America was labor-
ing. No report of this Hpeeih has been preserved; but it is
known that Hnrkt? advocated the reeeptiDii of the petition
upon the ;<n)und that it implied the ph»nury right of Parlia-
ment to ^rovcrn America, and that I'itt pnbliely complimented

1859-]

EDMUND BUBKE«

Ilim upon the ability which he had displayed. In regard to
the general question at issue between the Colonics and the
parent country, it is clear that his views subsequently under-
went a considerable modification. At this time he had *' no
doubt of the ability of Great Britain to crushj or even extir-
pate, the Colonies," nor had he any doubt as to the right
of Parliament to tax America. In connection with Charles
Yorkc he advocated the introduction of the Declaratory Act>
in opposition to the views of some of the other leaders of the
party; and he assigned to its passage a prominent place
among the services rendered by Lord Rockingham's adminis-
tration. That ministry did not last long, — being dismissed
in July, 1766, upon the formation of Lord Chatham's famous
coalition ministry ; but during its continuance Burke was
one of the most active and zealous supporters of the meas-
ures of his party. His connection w^ith Lord Rockingham
did not terminate with the dismissal of the ministers ; and
he continued to hold the most intimate and confidential rela-
tions with him. Almost immediately after the change of
ministers, he published an ingenious pamphlet under the title
of " A Short Account of a late Short Administration," in
which, in the apparently impartial character of a mere ob-
server, he enumerates the measures adopted by the late minis-
try. This simple plan is managed with so much skill as to
leave an impression upon the reader's mind that these meas-
ures had all been of signal importance and value, and that
the dismissal of the ministers was a great loss to the country.

From this time Burke's career becomes identified with the
political history of England; for though he never rose to
high office, he took a conspicuous part in nearly every debate,
and often enriched English literature by elaborate pamphlets
discussin ; the questions of the day in the light of great prin-
ciples. It is in his writings and speeches that we must look
for the most masterly vindications of the principles of his party.

After the retirement of his political friends and the acces-
sion to office of Lord Chatham's new and unexampled com-
bination, he made a short visit to Ireland. Here he spent
three months in social enjoyments, reviving old friendships
and making new acquaintance,

VOL. Lxxxviir. — ^Ko. 182, 7

74 EDMUND BURKE. [Jan.

'• They bad," said Burke'8 mother, writing from Loughrea to one of
hv^r friends, ^* all the gentlemen and ladies of this town and neighbor*-
hood to visit them, and had as many invitations to dinner, had they ac-
cepted of them, as would take up a great many days My dear

Nelly, I believe you will think me very vain ; but as you are a mother,
I hope you will excuse it. I assure you that it 's no honor that is done
him that makes me vain of him, but the goodness of his heart, which I
believe no man living has a better ; and sure there can't be a better son,
nor can there be a better daughter-in-law than liis wife."

One effect of this visit to Ireland was exhibited in the
ability and success with which, in the next session of Parlia-
ment, he opposed a bill excluding Irish wool from some of the
English markets. For his exertions upon this occasion and
at other times in behalf of his native island, he was honored
with the freedom of the city of Dublin, in January, 1767.

At the general election in the spring of 1768, he was again
returned to Parliament for the borough of Wendover, by the
same interest which had secured his former election. Having
thus embarked once more on a public career, he determined
'• to cast a little root in the country." He accordingly " pur-
chased a house, with an estate of about six hundred acres of
land, in Buckinghamshire, twenty-four miles from London,"
Scarcely a trace now remains of this magnificent estate.
But the house, which was destroyed by fire many years since,
is described as having been a princely abode, with noble
colonnades and graceful porticos, reminding the spectator of
Buckingham Palace. It liad formerly been the residence of
th(^ poet Waller, was enriched with paintings and sculpture,
and was surrounded by excellent land, on which the new
owner was fond of trying agricultural experiments. No
place, indeed, on the score of beauty and of vicinity to
London, could have been better adapted for the residence of a
philosophical statesman of ample i)ro])erty and cultivated
tastes. But Burke was not a man of fortune, and how he
could have obtained the means of making so extensive a pur-
chase is a (picstion whicli has been often and sometimes acri-
moniously discussed. It is well known that a portion of this
sum was obtained from Lord llockinghiun upon a bond,
which was never paid, and which was i)robabIy among the

1859.]

[)MT?Tm

EISE.

bonds cancelled by a codicil to that noblennan's will/ An-
other portion, it is said, was obtained by a mortgage, and the
remainder Mr. Macknight thinks was borrowed of William
and Richard Barke, who had been successful speculators in
India stock. Burke himself says, in a letter to a Prussian
gentleman, written in 1772 : " I have never had any concern
in the East India Company, nor have taken any part what-
soever in its affairs, except when they came before me in the
course of Parliamentary proceedings," Yet there is very good
reason for discrediting this statement, if it is to be understood
in what seems to be its most obvious meaning ; and it has
been conjectured upon apparently sufficient grounds, that a
portion of the purchase-money was the result of his own suc-
cessful speculations. The whole matter, however, is involved
in a hopeless obscurity, which neither Burke's friends nor his
enemies have been able to dispel. It must still be regarded
in the light of a curious and not unimportant inquiry.

Though Burke had thus become a landholder and an
amateur farmer, politics continued to be his favorite pursuit.
Upon the opening of the new Parliament, he at once entered
with his accustomed warmth into the discussions upon the
affairs of Corsica, the American questions, the case of John
Wilkes, and other topics then violently agitating the country.
Most of his speeches on these subjects are now lost ; but
some notes are preserved in the Cavendish Debates and the
Parliamentary History, and allusions to them are occasionally
to be found in other contemporary records. At a little later
period, he again came before the public as a political pam-
phleteer. During the Parliamentary recess George Grenville
had drawn up a party manifesto, under the title of *' The
Present State of the Nation," sharply attacking the policy of
Lord Rockingham and his followers, and exhibiting the im-
mense superiority of the policy advocated by Mr, Grenville*
This attack called forth a reply from Burke in the form of an
elaborate analysis and refutation, modestly styled ** Observa-
tions on a late Publication intituled * The Present State of

* Mr. Macknight, from informfttlon farnislied hj the lato Earl FitzwilUmn,
thinks l!uat the bonds ihas caacelled, aU of which hfttl been given within fonrtecn
years, ma? have amounted to £ 30,000.

76 EDMUND BX7BKE. [J&D.

the Nation.' " It deals mainly with qnestionB of a merely
temporary interest, and is relieved by few passages of that
rich and exuberant eloquence which we usually find in Burke's
writings; but its exposure of Grenville's financial and eoo-
nomical blunders is marked by great skill. In certain respeots
its merits have been greatly exaggerated by Burke's admir-
ers; but as a mere party pamphlet, it is among the most
adroit publications of its kind ever written. Here and there
we meet with some pointed sarcasm, which must have ran^
kled in his opponent's bosom long after it was uttered, or
some striking thought expressed in most felicitous language.
By his occasional bursts of eloquence, and still more by the
thorough mastery of his subject which he everywhere ex-
hibits, he carries the reader along with him through a dis-
cussion necessarily somewhat dry and uninteresting. The
pamphlet rendered any alliance between Mr. Ghrenville and
the party of Lord Rockingham impossible ; but it undoob^
edly added much to Burke's reputation.

In the mean time two questions, not altogether dijwimilar
in the principles involved, were growing into an importance
which overshadowed all other controverted subjects. These
were the expulsion of Wilkes, and the expediency of raising
a revenue by taxation in the American Colonies. After the
condemnation by Parliament of the North Briton, No. 46,
and his own outlawry, Wilkes had resided for some time in
Vrancc ; but upon the dissolution of Parliament he suddenly
reappeared in London, and oflfered himself to the electors o[
the metropolis as a candidate for Parliament Failing of an
election here, he determined to contest the great county of
Middlesex. At first, his arrival had created but little exdle-
njent. Soon, however, zeal in his behalf flamed up to a
danf;«*rouH height ; and this miserable demagogue, by identi-
ryin^ hiniHelf with popular rights, became a popular idoL

** WluMi Wilkoa first arrived in town/* snp Horace Walpole in his
MtMuoIrM of tho U(»ign of ("Joorgo III., *• I had seen him pass be-
fore my windowK in a Imokney-chair, attended but by a dozen diO-
lUvix mid wonuMi ; now all Westminster was in a riot. It was not safe
to puss iliroii);li rieoodilly; and every family was forced to pat out
Vi^Uu : tlip windows of vv(Ty unilluminatcd house were demolished.*

1869,]

K>MUNT> BURKE.

After a short straggle, he was triumphantly returned; but
the ministry were determined that he should not enjoy the
fruits of this victory- By their strenuous exertions a motion
for his expulsion was carried in the House of Commons
by a vote of 219 to 137, and a new election was ordered,
Wilkes was again chosen j but the House declared the return
null and void, and he was not allowed to take his seat, A
third election followed, which resulted in the unanimous re-
election of Wilkes, and the renewed refusal of the House to
recognize the validity of the return. In the fourth election,
Colonel Luttrell — a name familiar to every reader of Junius —
came forward to oppose the popular favorite ; but Wilkes was
again chosen, having received 1,143 votes to 296 for LuttrelL
The House of Commons, nevertheless, declared, after a debate
which lasted until two o'clock on Sunday morning, and by a
vote of 197 to 143, that Wilkes was incapacitated from being
a candidate, and that consequently Luttrell had been duly
chosen. This memorable contest extended through an entire
year, and stirred the public mind both in Parliament and in
the country to its lowest depth. Upon both sides the discus-
sion was conducted with much zeal and ability. Among the
speakers upon the court side was Charles James Fox, then a
young man of twenty-one, who had just entered Parliament
for the borough of Midhurst, and who now espoused the min-
isterial cause with the same warmth and energy which were
afterwards freely given to the advocacy of popular rights and
liberties and to the denunciation of every form of tyranny.
Upon the side of the people Burke spoke several times with
much ability. For Wilkes personally he had little respect;
but he did not fail to perceive that the persecution of the '
demagogue was in reality an attack upon the liberties of the
people, and he boldly stood up in defence of those liberties.
He both spoke and voted with the powerless minority in
Parliament, and in his correspondence he concerted measures
for the adoption of petitions and remonstrances at various
county meetings. The petition from Buckinghamshire was
drawn up and presented by him, and he also assisted in the
preparation of the Yorkshire petition.

In the various debates which took place within the same
7*

78 BDHUin) BUBXX. [J\

period and in the following year upon American affidrs, and
upon other topics of less importance, be also took an active
part He opposed the Address in answer to the Kio^s
Speech at the opening of the session in November, 1768, with
much warmth ; and a few weeks later he strenuously opposed
the Address and Resolutions for bringing to England for trial
before a special Commission any person accused of treaflon
committed in America. When Parliament met again in
January, 1770, he spoke twice in opposition to the AddreMi
vigorously attacking the ministerial policy, and defending tliat
great light of the modem Whig party, Sir Gtoorge Savilei
who had been assailed by General Conway on acconnt of
words spoken in debate. Not long afterward he spoke at
length upon the famous Remonstrance and Petition of the
City of London to the King, and also in support of Blr.
Grenville's bill for regulating the settlement of controverted
elections, which he advocated with great ability and sncoeas.
In May he introduced a series of eight resolutions condemn*
ing the minbterial policy in relation to American affiurs.
These resolutions be advocated with even mote than his nsnal
ability, and they had also the powerful support of Geoige
Grenville ; but they were defeated by a majority of two to
one.

Early in the same year Burke published his <' Thoughts on
the Causes of the Present Discontents." This celebrated
pamphlet had been for a long time in preparation, and was
designed to vindicate the propriety of party connectionSi and
the necessity of government by party. Though its puUioa*
tion had been delayed in order that it might be submitted in
maiinscript to various members of the Rockingham oonneo
tion, and Burke had accordingly received suggestions from
thcin while ho was engaged upon it, there can be no doubt
that the plan was entirely his own, and that the language in
which it is clothed was equally his own.* It bears nppn

« In a letter to I^nl Uoekingham In Julj, 1769, Bnrke tajt: '^IhadMOW
notion of casting it into the Torm of a letter, adilresaed to a person who had Um^
been in Parliament, and In now retircHl with all hit old principles and ngaids ttOl
fresh and alire : 1 mean old Mr. Wlilto. I wlih to know whether yonr LoidaUp
likes this/* In another letter to the same nobleman he tajs : ** I aand yon a good

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 79

every page the marks of his transcendent genius, and is an
imperishable monument to his unrivalled powers as a political
philosopher. Less extensive than the Observations upon
Grenville's pamphlet, it is not less cogent in argument, and is
far more brilliant in style. Tndeed, no subject could have
been better suited to Burke's genius, and certainly nothing
could have been more admirable than his treatment. The
magnificent sweep of his generalizations as he gathers up the
history of the past or paints the existing condition of affairs,
the profound political truths which he teaches with unrivalled
clearness and force of statement, and the splendor of his
eloquence in the rhetorical passages, render it one of the most
remarkable and admirable of his numerous pamphlets. It
naturally provoked many replies. Of these the most striking
was by Mrs. Catherine Macaulay, a sister of Alderman Saw-
bridge, and author of a History of England which in its own day
was far more popular than was Hume's great work. This
lady had adopted strong republican principles, and, taking
exception to some of Burke's views, she attacked him with
ability and bitterness in a pamphlet which is now forgotten,
but which had an extended reputation at the time.

During the next three or four years Burke spoke frequently,
and often with great ability and animation, as is evident even
from the imperfect reports now lying before us. Among the
subjects thus discussed were a petition firom certain clergymen
praying for relief from subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles,

part of what I hare been meditating about the system of the court, and which you
were so earnest to see carried into execution. I thought it better to let you see
what was finished, rather than to postpone it until the whole was completed. The
design appears distinctly enough, from what has been done. If you and your
friends approve of it, you will be so good to send it back, with your observations, as
soon as possible, that it may go to the press." In a subsequent letter ho says :
" Since I began this letter, which was two or three days ago, I have done some-
thing not wholly to displease myself, in the beginning of the pamphlet It was
necessary to change it wholly from the manner in which you saw it, and I think
the change has not been for the worse." Finally, in a letter dated December 5,
1769, he writes : "I wait, with some impatience, the return of the papers, with your
observations and corrections. If ever, they ought to appear as soon as possible.
I am drawing to a conclusion, but I do not send this manuscript ; partly, because
it is not yet arranged to my mind \ partly, because I expect soon to see your Lord-
ship in London."

80 EDMUND BURK£. [Jan.

a bill for thcrclief of the Dissenters, which he warmly support-
ed, two bills for restraining the East India Company from the
performance of certain acts, to which he gave an equally
strenuous opposition, and the Boston Port Bill and the Quebec
Bill, against both of which he spoke several times.* On the
lOtli of April, 1774, just one year before the skirmish at
Lexington, he delivered a memorable speech on the general
subject of American Taxation, in the debate on Mr. Rose
Fuller's motion for a repeal of the duty on tea. This speech
is reprinted in his Works, and is the earliest speech of which
we have any adequate report. It made a deep impression on
the House, and it was universally allowed that Burke had
exc(?Iled himself, and had made the most masterly speech ever
perhaps uttered in a public assembly. Nor need we feel sur-
prised that this impression should have been produced upon
those who heard it, when we consider how powerfully it fixes
the reader's attention even now, after the lapse of more than
three quarters of a century. The richness of its style, its
freshness and its harmonious flow, and the variety and felicity
of its illustrations, elevate it above the standard of Parlia-
mentary eloquence not less certainly than do the breadth of
its views and the depth of its wisdom place it among the
finest productions of political philosophy. In truth, nothing
ean bo happicT than the characterization of George Grenville,
the dfsrription of Lord Chatham's second ministry and of

*♦ ScNcrul of liis speci-lics on the Quebec Bill arc deserving of especial notice,
piirtii-uhirly those upon the ehiuses cstahli.shin*: the boundary line between Canada
and New York, and allowinj; the free, exercise of the Romish faith, and upon a
inotiiui for introduein^ n ehiuso providing: for trial by jury in civil causes. In one
of the^e .-ipeerhes, deliveri'd on tlie 7ih of June, 1774, he stated his views upon the
!;i in-ial >ul»jrt't of toleraiion, at the s:nne time inaintainin<; that "every one ought to
iontiiliiife to the sup|»ort of some reli;;ion or other." Kefcrring to home politics,
lie said : " There is l)ut one healin>:, eathoUe prineiple of toleration which ought to
lind faviir in this House. It is needed, not only in our Colonies, but here. The
(hii ty I'lutli of iiur own eonn(ry is j'.Msjtin!: and ^:tpin^ and crying out for that
lualni.'. slmwrr IVoin lirji\en." And he iidiled : " I look upon the people of Canada
.»N r. MM III", by thr di-ipru'-ruion of (Jod, under the Hritl.sh government. I would
li:i\e iM }'.u\riii tl in ihe Niiiue manner ns (lio nil- wise disposition of Providence
Would •■.u\i'in ii. \\v know lie huII'itj the -.un lo .shine upon the righteous and
imu'liimii J . and we o\\y\\\ (n miiVir all i la«i';r^, wiihout distinction, to cnjoy equally
I 111- ii'-lii 111 wtH .Iiipiiinr. (mnI acnndini: In ihn llj:hl he hasi Ivcn pleased to give
them."

1859.]

EDflfUND BtFBEB.

the confusion into which it was thrown when his controlling
presence was withdrawn, the sketch of Charles Townshend's
character, and the indignant reply to Lord Carmarthen. Nor
would it be easy to find elsewhere a more profound philoso-
phy applied to the discussion of political affairs, than presides
over his whole treatment of the complicated questions with
which he had to deal But those winged words fell on un-
willing ears ; other counsels prevailed ; and the motion was
lost by a vote of 49 to 182.

Early in the autumn of 1774 Parliament was dissolved, and a
new election was ordered, — a state of things for which Burke
was by no means prepared. The pecuniary affairs of Lord
Verney, through whose interest he had hitherto been returned
free of expense, had become so much embarrassed, that it was
necessary for Burke " either to quit public life or to find some
other avenue to Parliament." In this emergency he had re-
course to Lord Rockingham, in a long letter frankly stating
all the circumstances of the case. The result was that Lord
Rockingham placed his own borough of Malton at Burke's
disposal, and he was at once elected. But scarcely had this
arrangement been completed when he received a new honor,
and a fresh mark of the estimation in which his services were
held. Upon the very day of his retiirnj he received an invita-
tion to stand as one of the candidates for the great commer-
cial city of Bristol. After a brief consultation with his new
constituents he determined to accept the invitation, and at
once set out for Bristol, where the poll was then in progress.
The struggle was severe and protracted ; but at its conclusion
Burke was declared to be elected, and he accordingly took
his seat in Parliament as member for Bristol, His speeches
at Bristol upon the occasion of offering himself as a candidate
and at the close of the poll were printed in a pamphlet at the
time, and are reproduced in his collected Works. They are
moderate and judicious in tone, and are chiefly noticeable aa
containing an explicit declaration that he should not feel
bound by the Instructions of his constituents to vote upon
any question in a manner contrary to his own assured convic-
tions. Upon this point he afterwards had occasion to repeat
his opinions at greater length, and with even added force of

82 BDMUND BUBKB. [Jui.

argument ; but this early statement of them was an important
and significant step.

American affairs at once engaged the attention of Parliap
ment, and the whole course of the ministerial policy was
vigorously assailed. Fox had not yet formally allied himself
with the Rockingham Whigs, but throughout these debates
he acted in entire harmony with Burke. Both took a ccn*
spicnous part in the discussions, and it is generaUy conceded
that they never spoke with greater power, or with a more
entire command of their resources, than they did during tfao
American war. Mr. Orattan, who had often heard Fox
speak, bore strong testimony in later years to the surpassing
ability of his speeches upon American questions; and his
judgment is confirmed by Burke, Gibbon, Horace Walpole,
and others, who refer to particular speeches in terms of the
highest praise. It is to this period that we likewise owe the
finest of Burke's published speeches, and the imperfect reporta
of others show that they were equal to any of his sabsequent
speeches which were not revised for publication by himselil
The warmth of his language sometimes indeed led him to
the extreme verge of Parliamentary decorum; but even in
his most passionate appeals the correctness of his general
principles could not be denied. Among the more noticeable
speeches which he delivered at the commencement of this
session, was one upon the second Petition of the London
merchants for reconciliation with America. In this speech
he painted in strong colors the horrors of a civil war brought
on by *^ the counsels of a ministry precipitate to dye the rivers
of America with the blood of her inhabitants," and boldly
told tiiem that they could not accomplish the destruction erf
America, "without at the same time plunging a dagger into
the vitals of Great Britain." At this time, in common with
some of the other Opposition lenders, he appears to have
contcMnplated un impeachment of the ministers, professedly
reserving himHclf, in the wordH of th(^ report before us, ^ for
that (lay when, if properly supporttMl by the people, he vowed,
by all that was dour to him hero and hereafter, he would
pursue to condign puniKJunent ilio advisers of measures
fraught with every deHiruetive ronse<|ueiu*i) to the constitutioni

1859.] EDMUND BURKB. 83

the commerce, the rights and liberties of England." He also
spoke with great earnestness and power in opposition to the
bill for restraining the trade and commerce of the New Eng-
land Colonies, and in opposition to Lord North's Conciliatory
Proposition. But the ablest of all his speeches was delivered
upon the 22d of March, 1775, in introducing his own plan for
Conciliation with America. This celebrated speech produced
but little effect upon Parliament, yet it is scarcely possible to
exaggerate its merits. Fox, whose opinion upon such a sub-
ject must have the authority of a final judgment, pronounced
it the greatest of Burke's speeches, and Sir James Mackin-
tosh, whose criticism is scarcely less valuable, is equally
strong in his praise. " It has," says that eminent man in his
Journal, " the careful correctness of his first manner, joined to
the splendor of his second ; it was the highest flight of his genius
under the guidance of taste. Except a few Burkeisms in the
noble peroration, it contains few deviations from beauty."
The perfect familiarity with the subject which it everywhere
exhibits, the largeness of its views, the irresistible weight of
its arguments, and the felicity of its style, must always ren-
der it a favorite among Burke's speeches. The ministerial
majority, however, and even the country at large, were deaf
to his warnings. A part of his resolutions were lost by a suc-
cessful motion for the previous question, and the rest were
voted down by an overwhelming majority.

It is a singular circumstance, that the American war was
from the first one of the most popular wars in which Eng-
land was ever engaged. Opposition to it presented few hopes
of official honor or popular favor.

" I confess, too," says Lord Rockingham in a letter to Burke dated
September 24th, 1775, " that fix)m every information which I receive,
and which the observations made both by Lord John and Lord George
[Cavendish], and also by the Duke of Manchester and Sir George
Savile, all confirm, the real fact is, that the generality of the people of
England are now led away by the misrepresentations and arts of the
ministry, the court, and their abettors ; so that the violent measures
towards America are fairly adopted and countenanced by a majority of
individuals of all ranks, professions, or occupations in this country."

Burke, too, declared, in a letter to the Duke of Rich-

84 B0MUND BURKS. [Jl

mond two days later, that he was ^'sensible of the riiocfc*
ing indifference and neutrality of a great part of the nation."
In another letter he laments over the degeneracy of the
people, and says that the merchants <^ consider the American
war not so much their calamity, as theur resonrce in an in-
evitable distress." Burke, however, was still the zealoos
champion of liberty, and on the 16th of November, 1776|
he again came forward in behalf of the oppressed ColoniBti|
with a motion for leave to bring in a bill ^< for composing the
present troubles, and for quieting the minds of his Majeatj^fl
subjects in America." This motion he supported in another
elaborate speech, which occupied more than three bourn in
the delivery ; but upon a division it was defeated by a mar
jority of two to one. In November of the following year he
seconded Lord John Cavendish's motion for a ^< revisal of all
Acts of Parliament, by which his Majesty's subjects in
America think themselves aggrieved." Upon this motion he
spoke twice in the same evening, — the second time in reply
to Wedderburne, then Solidtor-Gteneral ; and on both occsf
sions he is said to have spoken with great animation. The
second speech, in particular, appears to have been one of hia
most brilliant and pointed productions.

The minority, which had long been feeble and almost
powerless, had diminished so much of late, that upon Lord
John Cavendish's motion they only numbered 47 votes. .lo
cpnsequence of this result, Burke, Fox, and some of the other
leaders of the party, strongly recommended a secession fiom
Parliament. Early in January, 1777, Burke wrote an argo-
mentativc letter to Lord Rockingham upon the right and
expediency of a secession under the existing circumstances.
At the same time he drew up and enclosed to his Lordship
an eloquent Address to the King, rehearsing in clear and dig-
nified language the history of the American troubles, and
strongly condemning the whole course of the ministerial
policy ; and he also prepared a Conciliatory Address to the
Colonists designed for circulation upon this side of the At-
lantic. But the plan of a general secession was not favorably
received, and was only partially carried out A few weeks
later, Burke addressed a long and admirable letter to the

1859.]

EDMUND BUIIKE.

Sheriffs of Bristol upon the general subject of American
aflairs, with a special reference to the recent passage of a bill
for the partial suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act This
letter was at once published, and was not without effect in
the country.

Shortly after the preparation of this letter a new question
arose, which appeared to the Opposition leaders to afford a
favorable opportunity for renewing their regular attendance
in Parliament On the 9th of April, Lord North brought
down a message from the throne, representing for the second
time in this reign that the king was laboring under pecuniary
difficulties, and that the debts upon the Civil List amounted
to more than £ 600,000. The debate in the Commons com-
menced a week after the message was delivered, and was
conducted with much spirit on both sides. Burke now came
forward in the character of an economical reformer ; and in J
his speech in reply to Lord North he was very severe upon
the noble lord for introducing the subject at a time when
the country was already biurdened with taxes, and proposing
to add to their number. Beginning with a reply to the argu-
ment that the amount granted to the Civil List was insuffi-
cient for the expenses chargeable upon it, he went into a
careful examination of the state of the Civil List under pre-
vious reigns, and in conclusion he maintained that "the debt
incurred could not be for the royal dignity, but for purposes
not fit to be avowed by the ministry, and therefore very fit to
be inquired into by the House." During the next three years
he seems not to have lost sight of the need of an economical
and administrative reform; but the active part which he took
in the various attacks on the ministry left him little time to
mature a plan for the accomplishment of this object. It was
not until February, 1780, that he brought forward a bill em-
bodying the essential features of his plan. Among his prin*
cipal speeches during this period were one in December, 1777,
on Mr. Fox*s motion for an Inquiry into the State of the
Nation, and another in the following January in the debate
on raising troops by subscription without the consent of Par-
liament. In February, 1778, he introduced a motion for an
Address to the King relative to the employment of Indians

VOL. Lxxivnr. — no, 182. 8

86 SDMUND BUBKX. [Jalk

in the American war, and spoke for nearly three horum and a
half with BO much effect that one member expressed a desire
that the speech might be affixed to all the church doors which
contained the proclamation for a general fast Many thought
it superior to any previous speech of the great orator* In
May of the same year, he took a conspicuous part in the de-
bates on the Irish Trade Bills, of which he was the moat
active and powerful supporter, though his constituents in
Bristol were strongly opposed to them, and several of his prin^
cipal friends wrote to him to express their dissatisfiaction ; and
again in the same month he spoke at length upon Bfr. Hart-
ley's motion for putting an end to the war in America.

In the following year he took an equally important and
conspicuous part in the discussions ; but it is scarcely neces-
sary or desirable to follow out in detail the history of his Pai^
liamentary labors during this memorable year. It is sufficient
to say, that in the numerous stormy debates upon the case of
Admiral Keppel, and upon the various questions connected
with the conduct of the American war, he was a prominent
speaker, constantly assailing the ministry with argumenti ridi-
cule, and invective. In common with the other leaden of the
Rockingham party, he vehemently espoused the cause of Kep-
pel, and bitterly assailed Sir Hugh Palliser, Keppel's most
active enemy. Not content with defending the Whig Admiral
in Parliament, Burke went down to Portsmouth with Lord
Rockingham, Fox, and other leaders of the party, to attend the
court-martial convened for the trial of Keppel. Burke's son,
who had just begun to keep his terms in London as a student
of law, accompanied them; and both father and son were
constant attendants in the court during the trial. So dee{dy
sensible was the veteran warrior of Burke's sympathy, that
he presented him with a portrait of himself by Sir Joshua
Reynolds, which afterwards called forth one of the most strik-
ing passages in the "Letter to a Noble Lord."

* Strangers were exdoded from the galleries daring this debate, and no adequate
report of Barkers speech is extant; bat enough remains to show that it contaised
many passages which mast hare sent a thrill throagh eren the most slaggish assem-
bly. Altogether, it seems to hare been singnlarlj brilliant in stjle and cogent in
argament

1859.] KDMUND BURKB. 87

" I ever looked on Lord Keppel," he says near the close of this cel-
ebrated production, <^as one of the greatest and best men of his age ; and
I loved and cultivated him accordingly. He was much in my heart,
and I believe I was in his to the very last beat. It was at his trial at
Portsmouth that he gave me this picture. With what zeal and anxious
affection I attended him through that his agony of glory, what part my
son took in the early flush and enthusiasm of his virtue, and the pious
passion with which he attached himself to all my connections, with what
prodigality we both squandered ourselves in courting almost every sort
of enmity for his sake,. I believe he felt just as I should have felt such
a friendship on such an occasion."

On the 15th of December in the same year he gave notice
of his long-meditated plan of economical reform in a bold and
manly speech, attributing all the grievances under which the
country suffered to the " fatal and overgrown influence of the
crown." A few weeks later, on the 11th of February, 1780,
he brought forward his proposed plan ; and so persuasive was
his eloquence on this occasion that even Lord North said .it
was one of the ablest speeches he had ever heard, and such as
he believed no other member of the House was capable of mak-
ing. Lord George Gordon alone rose to oppose the motion,
and even insisted upon dividing the House; but no other
member voted with him, and leave was accordingly granted
to bring in a bill " for the better regulation of his Majesty's
Civil Establishments, and of certain Public Offices, for the
limitation of pensions, and the suppression of sundry useless,
expensive, and inconvenient places, and for applying the
moneys saved thereby to the public service." Burke's speech
on this motion is printed entire in his Works, is a master-
piece of ingenious and weighty argument, and by some per-
sons is even now regarded as the finest of his productions.
It has, indeed, many splendid passages ; but too much of it
is disfigured by the faults of his later manner. Still it is
easy to see how strong an impression it must have produced
upon those who heard it. A great historian, who then occu-
pied a silent seat in Parliament, and filled one of the offices
which Burke proposed to abolish, has told us with what emo-
tions he listened to this speech. " Never," said Gibbon at a
subsequent period, "can I forget the delight with which that

88 BDmniD bubkb. [Jan*

diffusive and iogenions orator, Mr. Barke, was heard by all
sides of the house, and even by those whose existence he pio*
scribed." Three days after this speech was delivered, Barke
also obtained leave to bring in bills for the sale of the forest
and other crown lands, with certain exceptions, for more per-
fectly uniting to the crown the Principality of Wales and the
County Palatine of Chester, and for uniting to the crown tho
Duchy and County Palatine of Lancaster. He also moved
for leave to bring in a bill for uniting the Dachy of Cornwall
to the crown, but, objection being made, this motion was
withdrawn. At first these measures were received with great
favor, and Burke acquired an immense popularity. Grada-
ally, however, the opposition to the proposed reform began to
gain strength and courage. The result was a severe and pro*
tracted struggle. The dause in the first bill for abolishiDg
the office of Third Secretary of State was the first upon whieh
the House divided, and it was lost by a vote of 201 to 208i
Tiie clause abolishing the Board of Trade was carried by a
majority of only eight votes; and after the rejection of a
clause for reforming some of the offices in the royal household, '
Burke appears to have lost neariy all interest in the fiurther
progress of the bill, though he spoke several times in the sub-
sequent debates. In the mean time, and in consequence of the
opposition to Burke's plan, Mr. Dunning brought forward his
celebrated motion, ^^ that the influence of the crown has in-
creased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished," and in his
opening speech he paid a merited tribute to his friend's ^ un-
common zeal, unrivalled industry, astonishing abilities, and
invincible perseverance." Burke took no part in this debate,
but he was one of the majority who voted in favor of Mr. Dun*
ning's declaration.

On the Ist of Septemt)er Parliament was suddenly dis-
solved ; and, in consequence of the shortness of the interval
allowed for the elections, the ministry materially increased
their strength in the new House. Burke once more offered
himself as a candidate for the city of Bristol, and in a speech
delivered in the Gruildhall previously to the election he vindi*
cated with consummate ability the course which he had re-
cently pursued in Parliament In the course of his remarks

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 89

he met and answered successively the various charges brought
against him. Nor did he neglect to refer in just terms to the
only proper rules which can govern the relations between the
representative and his constituents.

" I did not obey your instructions," he said. " No. I conformed to
the instructions of truth and nature, and maintained your interest, against
your opinions, with a constancy that became me. A representative wor-
thy of you ought to be a person of stability. I am to look, indeed, to
your opinions ; but to such opinions as you and I must have five years
hence. I was not to look to the flash of the day. I knew that you
chose me, in my place, along with others, to be a pillar of the state, and
not a weathercock on the top of the edifice, exalted for my levity and
versatility, and of no use but to indicate the shiftings of every fashion-
able gale."

But the opposition was too strong, and Burke, having satis-
fied himself that he could not be chosen, determined to with-
draw from the contest before the commencement of the poll.
Compelled again to seek a new avenue to Parliament, he
once more took refuge in Lord Rockingham's borough of
Malton, from which he was promptly returned. After an
animated struggle Fox was chosen for Westminster; and the
Opposition to Lord North was strengthened by the election of
two young men of scarcely less brilliant parts, who now en-
tered Parliament for the first time, and who were destined to
act a conspicuous part in history, — Richard Brinsley Sheri-
dan and William Pitt.

The ministry was stronger in the new Parliament than it
had been previously to the dissolution ; but at length defeat
and disaster to the British arms proved more powerful than
the most eloquent lips. Lord North, too, became weary of
office, and ineffectually besought the king to allow him to
resign ; and such was his anxiety to be relieved of the con-
stant struggle which so heavily taxed his good nature, that in
the course of this year overtures were made to Lord Rocking-
ham with a view of enlarging the basis of the ministry. Some
negotiations were accordingly carried on between the two
parties ; but the differences in regard to the details of the pro-
posed arrangement were so great that the scheme failed. With
the opening of the session the struggle was renewed with fresh
8»

90 XDinniD bubxb. [Jul

ardor ; and so strongly was Lord North pressed by the kiog
to remain in office, that it wa^ not until March, 1782| that the
Opposition succeeded in displacing the ministry. In tUs
memorable straggle Borke was among the foremost speafceni
taking an important part in the discussions upon the appoint
ment of Sir Hugh Palliser as Gk>vemor of Greenwich Hbspk
tal, upon Lord North's propositions for the renewal of tiie
East India Company's charter, upon the causes of the war in
the Carnatic, upon the Public Accounts and the Oidnanoe
Estimates, upon Mr. Hartley's bill for restoring peace willi
America, and upon the bill for reforming the Civil lisiy OB
which he spoke four times.

The struggle was now fietst drawing to a close. In Janoaiyi
1782, Mr. Fox brought forward a motion for an inqmry into
<Hhe causes of the want of success of his Majesty's naval
forces during the war, and more particularly in the year 1781/'
and sustained it in a speech of great ability. So powerfiil
were his arguments, and so strong had the minority beoomfiy
that the ministers did not venture to oppose the inquiry.
When the House went into committee upon the sobjeet, Mr.
Fox again spoke at length, attacking the condtict of the ad>
miralty, and concluding with a resolution that ^ there had
been gross mismanagement in the conduct of his Majesty'a
naval affairs in the year 1781 " ; but the motion was rejected
by a majority of twenty-two. Burke did not take any coih
spicuous part in these debates ; but a few weeks later, when
General Conway brought forward a motion for putting an
end to the war, he spoke at length, and with more than <»di-
nary ability. The motion was defeated by only one Yote.
Alarmed at this result, the ministers at once determined to
yield to the demands of the minority, so far at least as to
enter into negotiations for peace. But such a course was not
adapted to satisfy the Opposition ; and on the 8th of March
Lord John Cavendish introduced a series of resolutions, attrib*
uting the misfortunes of the war to ^ the want of foresight
and ability in his Majesty's ministers." The motion was lost
by a majority of ten. Still the feebleness of the ministry waa
so apparent, that the next week a motion was made that the
House *' can have no further confidence in the miniatefB wha

BURKE.

have the direction of public affairs.** This motion likewise
failed ; yet the Opposition felt so confident of success, that they
gave immediate notice of their intention to renew the motion
with the least possible delay. In the mean time Lord North
determined to resign rather than continue the struggle; and
having obtained the reluctant consent of the king, on the 20tb
he announced that the ministry was at an end.

Upon the resignation of Lord North, his Majesty sent for
Lord Shelburne, whose views were less obnoxious to him than
were those of the Rockingham Whigs, and offered him the first
place in the government; but Lord Shelburne was true to his
recent engagements with Lord Rockingham, and declined the
proffered honor. After some delay the king was induced to
communicate with Lord Rockingham ; and at length a minis-
try was formed of which he became head. Lord Shelburne
and Mr. Fox were made Secretaries of State, — the Third Sec-
retaryship being abolished.* Lord John Cavendish became
Chancellor of the Exchequer ; the Duke of Grafton returned
to office as Lord Privy Seal; Admiral Keppel, whose recent
trial had aroused so great an excitement, was created a Vis-
count and made First Lord of the Admiralty; the Duke of
Richmond was made Master- General of the Ordnance; and
General Conway was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the
Forces, with a seat in the Cabinet* Lord Thurlow was un-
wisely retained in the Chancellorship, through the influence of
the king and of Lord Shelburne. Burke was made Paymaster-
General, an office which had been filled in previous adminis-
trations by the elder Pitt, Lord Holland, Lord North, and the
briUiant and versatile Charles Townshend, and which in our
own time has been adorned by the splendid abilities of Lord
Macaulay. Among the other celebrated persons who were
appointed to inferior places were Sheridan, Barre, and Thomas
Townshend. The Duke of Portland was made Lord Lieuten-
ant of Ireland ; and Fox's intimate friend, Richard Fitzpatrick,
accompanied him as Secretary.

• Upon Mr. Fox't appaintmeDi he become tho ministerial leader in the House of
Commons, and Borko's relative position in the party was much chAtigcd. lie never
recovered his former influence. So long as the Whig party remmoed iinbrokcn^ Fox
coniinued its sole and ondispntcil leader.

92 BDMUin) BURKE. [Jui.

The ministry thas inclnded many persons of great talentB,
and it possessed in a considerable degree the confidence of the
nation ; but it also had elements of weakness which soon pro-
duced changes in its constitution, and finally led to its down-
fall. Dissensions and mutual jealousies showed therffselns
even before the new ministry took office. The continnanoe
of Lord Thurlow in the Chancellorship was undoubtedly a
fatal mistake ; since he not only differed widely in prindples
from the two great party connections that shared the princi-
pal offices, but did not hesitate to oppose in Parliament with
the utmost bitterness the measures agreed upon in the CSabi-
net. His continuance seems to have been demanded by the
king, and was assented to by Lord Shelburne without previ-
ous consultation with the Rockingham Whigs. In the same
manner Lord Shelburne added to the original list of the Cab-
inet the name of his own friend and supporter, John Dumdog,
who was made Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancastefi and
raised to the peerage under the title of Lord Ashburton. This
promotion excited the jealousy of the Rockingham party^
though they acquiesced in it; and, in order to equalise the
rewards, Sir Fletcher Norton, the late Speaker of the Houae
of Commons, was also called to the Upper House, and created
Lord Grantley. The same jealousy was likewise recognized in
the disposition of other offices and honors; but the only pefi»
sions conferred by the new ministers were given to supporters
of Lord Shelburne. Though sufficiently eager for places and
titles, the Rockingham Whigs showed an honorable disregard
for the mere emoluments of office* " The only jobs," said Sfr.
Fox after his rupture with Lord Shelburne, ^4n which the
Rockingham administration were concerned, were jobs for tvw>
men, neither friendly to their persons nor principles."

The dissensions in the Cabinet were still more strongly felt
in the negotiations at Paris for terminating the American
war. There Lord Shelburne and Mr. Fox maintained sepN.
arate agents, from the unfortunate circumstance that the ne-
gotiations with France and those with the United States
belonged to different departments.* The mutual jealousies

* The f^entleman appointed by Lord Shclbarno to condact the mgotiatioiM witk
Dr. Franklin was Mr. Richard Oswald, a respecuble London meicbant He eon*

ISDU.]

which these agents felt were soon transferred by Mr. Grenville
to England; and the result was that Fox at once conceived
a violent distrust of his colleague. Mr. Grenville himself was
greatly exasperated at w^hat he considered double-dealing on
the part of Lord Shelburne, and was anxious to throw up his
mission. In addition to this cause of suspicion and distrust,
Mr. Fox entertained an entirely different opinion from Lord
Shelburne in regard to the basis on which the negotiations
should be conducted, and he had been twice outvoted in the
Cabinet upon this important question. Under these circum-
stances he declared bis intention of resigning, and was pre-
vented from doing so at once only by the illness of Lord
Rockingham, which terminated fatally on the 1st of July, a
little more than three months after the ministers took office.

Tlie death of Lord Rockingham brought matters to a crisis.
On the following day Lord Shelburne announced to his col*
leagues that the king desired him to accept the Treasury ; and
he added, that from the manner in which the offer was made
it would be impossible for him to decline, though he should
have preferred the appointment of one of Lord Rockingham's
friends/ Tliis announcement was received with but little
favor by the other Whig leaders, who were zealous for the
appointment of the Duke of Portland, at that time Lord Lieu-
tenant of Ireland. Finding the opposition of his colleagues
so strong, Lord Shelburne begged that they would not deter-
mine upon any line of conduct until he had had an opportu-
nity of conversing with his Majesty upon the subject. The
king was resolute in resisting the dictation of the Whig aris*
tocracy ; and three days after the death of Lord Roc kingham
Mr, Fox resigned.

The resignation of Mr. Fox led to the most important re-
sults, and left a deep and permanent effect upon the political
history of England. It separated men who had long acted

tinned Ln this mission until the negotifttianB were conrludcd. Mr. Foz^s reprefenta*
tive wag Mr ThomAs Grenville, n younpcr son of the fjunoua Chancellor of the Ex*
chequer. After ttie appointment of Lord Sbelbume a« prime miniiter he was re-
called at his own request

^ Lortl Temple, howeTer, states in a letter to ins brother. Thomas GrenriUe,
printed in the Backingham Papcra, that Lord Shelbome intimau^d to him a wish
and Inteniiou lo take the Treasorj*

94 BDICUND BUBXI. [JfUi;

together in harmony; it divided and finally broke op the
great Whig party ; it brought forward a new and formidable
rival to Mr. Fox ; and it paved the way for his own memom-
ble coalition with Lord North. The withdrawal of Bfr. Fox
and of Lord John Cavendish, who also resigned on aooonnt
of bis dislike of Lord Shelbume, was immediately followed
by the resignation of Lord Robert Speneer, Barke, Sheridaii,
and most of their political and personal Mends. The Duke
of Richmond, Lord Camden, Lord Eeppel, and General Con*
way, however, determined to continue in office. In the new
arrangements rendered necessary by the appointment of Loid
Shelburne as First Lord of the Tr^ury, and in conseqoenoe
of these resignations, Mr. Thomas Townshend and Lord
Grantham were made Secretaries of State. Colonel Bani
succeeded Mr. Burke as Paymaster-General; and Mr. Dnndae
became Treasurer of the Navy. But a more important aooea-
sion to Lord Shelbume's strength was the appointment ef
William Pitt, the second son of Lord Chatham, then a young
man of twenty-three, to succeed Lord John Cavendish aa
Chancellor of the Exchequer.

The subject of the ministerial changes was speedily brouglit
forward in Parliament, and formed the principal topic in a
debate to which the pension conferred upon Colonel Barri by
the late administration had given rise.* In the course of this
debate Fox made a violent attack upon the new ministerSi
stigmatizing them as ''men whom neither promises could
bind nor principles of honor could secure ; they would aban*
don fifty principles for the sake of power, and forget fifij
promises when they were no longer necessary to their ends."
To this diatribe he added: "He had no doubt but that, to
secure themselves in the power which they had by the labor
of others obtained, they would now strive to strengthen them-
selves by any means which corruption could procure ; and he
expected to see that, in a very short time, they would be joined

* Lonl Shclbarne sabseqnently stated in the Iloase of Lords that the pemkm was
conferred upon Colonel Barrd at the recommendation of Lord Rockingham, to OOB-
pcnsate him for re8ig:ning his pretensions to the Pay Office in favor of Bnike. Oa
the very next day Burke indignantly denied the assertion in the House of CommoM^
and his denial was confirmed by Lord John Carcndish and Mr. Fox.

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 95

by those men whom that House had precipitated from their
seats." Burke was equally violent, and " called heaven and
earth to witness that he verily believed the present ministry
would be fifty times worse than that of the noble Lord who
lately had been reprobated and removed." * The debate was
closed by Mr. Lee, the late Solicitor- General, who commented
upon the youth and inexperience of the new Chancellor of the
Exchequer, declaring that, " though the honorable gentleman
would adorn any scene in which his part was properly cast,
yet he did not think the confidence of the people would be
much increased by putting the complicated business of the
finances into the hands of a boy." The speeches of Mr. Fox
and his friends were certainly not wanting in violence and
bitterness ; but it must be conceded that they do not present
a very satisfactory defence of the course taken by the Rock-
ingham Whigs. It is only by the light of documents which
have recently been published for the first time, that we are able
to perceive the real and justifiable grounds of that action.

Shortly after this debate Parliament was prorogued ; and
during the recess the ministers industriously prosecuted the
negotiations at Paris. After much delay the terms of the
peace were adjusted ; and on the 30th of November, 1782, a
provisional treaty was signed by the Commissioners of Great
Britain and the United States, but without the knowledge of
the French government Subsequently, on the 20th of Janu-
ary, 1783, preliminary articles of peace with France and Spain
were also signed ; and before the close of the month the three
treaties were laid before Parliament In the mean time it
had become evident that, in order to carry on the government,
the ministry must strengthen itself by gaining support from
one or both of the other parties. According to an estimate
circulated at the time, the ministers could count only 140 votes
in their favor. The firiends of Lord North numbered 120 ;
and Mr. Fox was at the head of a party smaller than either
of the other two, but superior in talents, and numbering
90 votes. In this balanced state of parties a union of any

* In one of his letters to Mr. Roget, Sir Samuel Romillj says, in reference to
Barkers speech, that ho spoke " with ancommon warmth, — ancommon rage I should
rather say."

96 XDMimi) BUBK& [Jan.

two would leave its opponents in a decided minaritj. Ac-
cordingly varioos negotiations were opened^ all of which ftBed
of success excepting one for a coalition between Lord North
and Mr. Fox. The first step towards the formation of this ^
celebrated coalition was^taken by Gteorge North, Lord North's
son, and be was warn^y seconded by Lord John Townshond.
Burke also approved of the coalition ; and aoooiding to Laid
John Townshend, Sheridan was ^one of the most eager and
clamorous for it," though he afterwards boasted that he bad
always been opposed to it The immediate result of tida
junction was the resignation of the ministers upon the pas-
sage of an amendment to the Address in answer to the King^a
Speech communicating the preliminary articles of peace.

The coalition, however, did not find it so easy to get into
office as they had anticipated. A ministerial intemgimm
of unexampled length followed, in consequence of the king'a
unwillingness to admit lib. Fox and his firiends to offioe.
Finally, on the 24th of March, Mt. Coke, the celebntted agri-
culturist, gave notice for the second time that he shoidd move
for an inquiry into the causes of the delay in forming a minia-;
try, unless Sir. Pitt would say that be bad accepted the saala
of the Treasury. In answer to this question Pitt replied that
he had not taken office, and was not aware that any arrange-
ment had been made. The proposed Address was then movadi
and adopted ; and on the following day a vague answer waa
returned. But in consequence of its adoption, the negotia*
tions with the coalition were once more resumed; and
finally, after many delays and interruptions, his Majesty
yielded to the necessity imposed upon him.* Thronj^umt

* The king's feelings towards his new ministen were exceedingly bittv.
letter to Lord Temple dated April 1st, 1783, and published in the llist ^
the Backingham Papen, his Majesty says : "Judge, tiierefore, of the \
my mind, at having been thwarted in every attempt to keep the i
of the hands of the most nnprindpled coalition the annals of this ortaj odier
nation can equal. I hare withstood it till not a single man is wQIing to eons to
my assistance, and till the Honse of Commons has taken erery step bat fauMi^SB
this faction being by name elected ministers." In another place hia llkijetty iBtl>
mates his intention of getting rid of his new ministers as soon as poeriUe. " I
hope/' he says, " many months will not elapse before the GrenTillee, the Fltts, and
other men of ability and character, will rdiere me from a sitnatioa tfiat wktdag
coald hare compelled me to submit to, bnt the snppoeition thai no other mourn
remained of proTenting the public finances from being materially afteted."

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 97

this protracted straggle Burke does not appear to have taken
any active part, — probably on account of his being engaged
at that time in the preparation of the Ninth Report on Indian
Affairs ; but that he approved of the course pursued by the
coalition is suflSciently clear from the fact that he at once
accepted a place under it.

On the 2d of April, thirty-seven days after the resignation
of Lord Shelburne, the coalition ministry took office. In
that famous ministry the Duke of Portland was First Lord
of the Treasury, Lord North and Mr. Fox were the two
Secretaries of State, Lord John Cavendish was Chancellor of
the Exchequer, Lord Stormont President of the Council,
Lord Carlisle Privy Seal, and Admiral Keppel First Lord of
the Admiralty. Lord Thurlow was deprived of the Chan-
cellorship, and the Great Seal was put into commission.
Burke was again made Paymaster-General; and the other
offices were divided among the adhereiits of the two Secre-
taries. So ill-assorted a union had not been seen since the
second ministry of Lord Chatham, which Burke had admira-
bly characterized some years before in an often-quoted pas-
sage. '' He made an administration," we are told in the
speech on American Taxation, " so checkered and speckled ;
he put together a piece of joinery, so crossly indented and
whimsically dovetailed ; a cabinet so variously inlaid ; such
a piece of diversified mosaic ; such a tessellated pavement
without cement ; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of
white ; patriots and courtiers, king's friends and republicans ;
Whigs and Tories ; treacherous friends and open enemies ; —
that it was, indeed, a very curious show ; but utterly unsafe
to touch, and unsure to stand on."

It was natural that the country should regard the coalition
with but little favor. " Unless a real good government is the
consequence," wrote Fox's friend and kinsman, Richard Fitz-
patrick, " nothing can justify it to the public." Even this
poor justification it was not destined to have ; and in the end
it was ruinous to the reputation and future usefulness of those
most largely concerned in it. It doomed Fox to more than
twenty years of fruitless opposition ; for the king never for-
gave or forgot the constraint put upon bim at this time. Nor

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182. 9

98 EDMUND BURKE. [Jan.

was Fox compensated in public estimation for the ill-will with
which he was regarded by George III. The recollection of
the coalition and of his course upon the India Bill clung to
him for many years, and both were associated in the public
mind with dishonor and an eager grasping for power. The
coalition of Lord North and Mr. Fox is only a more con*
spicuous illustration of the general truth which all history
teaches, that coalitions are rarely if ever popular. It added
nothing to the reputation of Lord North, although, as Horace
Walpole wittily observed, *' he got himself whitewashed by
his bitterest enemies." In the case of Mr. Fox it has always
given his eulogists infinite trouble ; and very few persons at
the present day will think of defending his course. Nor did
even Burke's reputation escape without suffering some severe
and damaging attacks. The most important of these was
based upon his course in reference to two clerks in the Pay
OiBce, named Powell and Bembridge, who had been dis-
missed by the late Paymaster- General on account of alleged
malpractices. When Burke returned to office he immediately
reappointed them ; and on the 2d of May the subject was
brought to the notice of the House of Commons. A brief
and animated conversation ensued, in the course of which
one member remarked, " that, when he heard from the highest
authority, that two considerable clerks in office had been
dismissed for gross misbehavior, and that they were after-
wards restored, he could not help looking upon their restora-
tion as a gross and daring insult to the public." Burke
immediately rose in a violent fit of passion, exclaiming, " It
is a gross and daring — "; but before he could finish the
sentence Sheridan drew him down into his seat, "lest his
heat," says the Parliamentary History, " should betray him
into some intemperate expressions that might offend the
House." No action was taken at this time ; but the subject
was again brought before the House several times before it
was finally settled. Meanwhile Powell committed suicide;
and though the House refused to condemn Burke's conduct,
the feeling upon the subject was so strong that his friends
advised him to accept Bembridge's resignation. He accord-
ingly did so; and in the following month Bembridge was

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 99

convicted by the Court of King's Bench upon a charge of
conniving at the concealment of more than £ 48,000, and
was sentenced to pay a fine and to be imprisoned for six
months.

In the course of the year, and subsequently to his return
to office, Burke presented to the House two masterly Reports
from the Select Committee on the Affairs of India, designed
to prepare the way for Mr. Fox's East India Bill. In the first
of these reports he gave an elaborate survey of the actual
condition of the East India Company's affairs abroad, of the
relations of Great Britain and India, and of the effects of the
revenue investment of the Company. He then discussed at
great length the trade and government of India, everywhere
exhibiting the most perfect familiarity with his subject, and
sharply criticising the conduct of Hastings, at that time
Governor-General. The Eleventh Report followed at a later
date, and is almost exclusively devoted to the conduct of
Hastings, which is thoroughly scrutinized and elaborately
described. From the date of these Reports to the close of his
Parliamentary career, Indian affairs were among the chief
subjects which engaged Burke's thoughts ; and the part which
he took in them forms one of the most important chapters in
his life.

On the 19th of November, Mr. Fox moved for leave to
bring in two bills, one " for vesting the affairs of the East
India Company in the hands of certain Commissioners," and
the other " for the better government of the territorial pos-
sessions and dependencies in India." These bills had been
drawn with much care, and were designed to effect a radical
reform in Indian affairs. By whom they were originally
drafted is uncertain. It has sometimes been asserted that the
first sketch was prepared by Burke, and that the bills were
then drawn by Mr. Pigot, afterward Attorney-General under
Lord Grenville ; but the evidence for this statement is not
conclusive. It is known, however, that Lord North, Lord
Loughborough, and Mr. Pigot were consulted in regard to
the details ; and there can be no doubt that Burke also con-
tributed his advice and information. After a very able and
elaborate speech by Mr. Fox, discussing the affairs of the

100 BDMUND BUBKB. [Jatt.

East at much length, and dwelling with great aeveritj Qpop
the policy of Hastings, and a few remarks by other memben^
leave was granted to bring in the proposed bills, Accoidinglj
two days afterward Mr. Fox introdaced his first bill. The
motion for the second reading was opposed by Mr. William
Wyndham Grenville and others ; but it seems to have been on^
ried without a division, and on the 27th the great straggle
commenced. Fox opened the debate in a speech even mora
powerful and elaborate than that which he delivered upon the
introduction of the bill, sharply assailing the management of
the East India Company, and declaring ^ that, if he shonild
fall in this, he should fall in a great and glorious oansei Btanig^
gling not only for the Company, but for the people of Cheat
Britain and India, — for many, many millions of souls.'* The
motion that the bill be referred to a committee of the whole
House was opposed by Mr. Pitt, the late Chancellor of tiie
Exchequer, but it was carried by a majority of 109. On the
1st of December the debate was resumed, upon a motion that
the House resolve itself into a committee upon the bill The
opposition was very ably conducted by William Pitti Dnndaa,
Thomas Pitt, and others. On the other side, the Ull waa
supported by Fox, Lord John Cavendish, Burke, and other
prominent leaders of the coalition. It was in this debate
that Burke delivered his celebrated panegjrric on Mr. Fox, at
the close of a splendid argument in favor of the bill, whidl
was afterwards written out and published. <* Let him use his
time," said Bur! e. '< Let him give the whole length of the
reins to his benevolence. He is now on a great eminenoei
where the eyes of mankind are turned to him. He may live
long, he may do much. But here is the summit. He never
can exceed what he does this day."

In the division the ministry was sustained by a majority of
114. On the 8th of December, the third reading was cairied
by a majority of 106 ; and on the following day the bill was
presented at the bar of the House of Lords by Mr. Fox, at-
tended by a great number of Commons. Upon the first read*
ing Lords Thurlow and Temple took occasion to avow a
strong opposition to the bill ; and not only did they oppose it
in debate, but they also made use of their influence with tbiB

1859.1

EDMUXD BURKS

101

king to overthrow its authors. The king eagerly availed him-
self of an opportunity which seemed so propitious for grati-
fying his resentment, and previously to the second reading he
placed a written memorandum in the hands of Lord Temple,
** that he should deem those who should vot^ for it, not only
not his friends, but his enemies; and that, if Lord Temple
could put this in stronger words, he had full authority to do
so," In consequence of this interference of his Majesty some
of the peers withdrew their proxies from the ministers, and
others who had been supposed to be friendly to the bill voted
with the Opposition, Upon the 15th of December an ad*
journment was carried against the ministry by a majority of
87 to 79. On the same day the king's interference formed
the subject of a debate in the House of Commons, and a
resolution was introduced, ** that it is now necessary to de-
clare^ that to report any opinion, or any pretended opinion, of
his Majesty, upon any bill or other proceeding depending in
either House of Parliament, with a view to influence the
votes of the members, is a high crime and misdemeanor, de*
rogatory to the honor of the crown, a breach of the funda*
mental privileges of Parliament, and subversive of the consti-
tution of this country." This resolution, which was strenu-
ously opposed by William Pitt, was carried by a majority of J
73. Two days afterward the bill was rejected in the Uppen
House by a majority of 95 to 76 ; and at twelve o'clock on
the following night a message was sent to the two Secretaries J
of State by the king, *' that they should deliver up the sealsn
of their offices, and send them by the Under Secretaries, Mr,
Frazer and Mr. Nepean, as a personal interview on the occa-
sion w^ould be disagreeable to him." The seals were imme-
diately given to Earl Temple ; and the next day the other
members of the Cabinet were dismissed.

Upon the dismission of the ministers William Pitt was
made First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Ex-
chequer, the Marquis of Carmarthen Secretary of State for ]
the Foreign Department, and Lord Sydney Secretary for the
Home Department Lord Thorlow returned to the Chancel-
lorship. The other Cabinet Ministers were Earl Gower,
Lord Howe, and the Duke of Rutland, who was afterward
9*

102 BDMUin) BUBXB. [Sui

appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Lord Temple dof
clined to accept a place in the Cabinet in consequence- o|
the indignation excited by bis unconstitutional conduct In
inferior places were Kenyon, afterward Chief Justice, William
Wyndham Grenville, Henry Dundas, and Lord MulgraTew
With the accession of the new ministers commenced another
i-cmarkable struggle between the two great English partiei.
Upon one side was Fox, at the head of a great majority of the
House of Commons, eager to drive from power the miniateia
who had obtained office by such disgraceful means. On the
other side was Pitt, sustained by all the weight of the Idng^i
personal influence, equally determined not to suffer any mo-
cessful attack upon the royal prerogatives. In this nnequfd
contest Fox was finally defeated ; and the great party wbidi
he had so long led dwindled to a mere handful of attadhed
and devoted followers.

Having failed in their attempt to reform the abuses of
the Indian government by means of Mr. Fox's biUsi and
hopelessly defeated in their long and wasting straggle to
regain power, the Whig leaders determined to bring to pnor
ishment the authors of the abuses which they had so stvon^y
condemned. On the 28th of February, 1785, Mr. Fox brou^t
forward a motion for papers relative to the course pursued by
the ministers in regard to the private debts of the Nabob of
Arcot. In the course of the debate Burke delivered a power*
ful speech upon the particular question then at issue, display-
ing throughout a familiarity with the affairs of India wbioh
few persons then possessed. This speech is in some respeots
one of the most remarkable of Burke's Parliamentary effiarta^
and, though disfigured by his worst faults of style, it conteins
passages of the most brilliant and moving eloquence. Still
the motion was lost by a majority of 164 to 69. In April of
the following year he presented to the House of Commons an
elaborate series of Articles of Charge against Hastings, re*
hearsing under appropriate heads the various topics which
entered into the charges, and drawing out in detail the special
offences committed under each. In May Hastings was heard
at the bar of the House in reply to the charges ; and during
the course of the year they were at various times thoroughly

1859.] EDMUND BURKE. 103

discussed in committee of the whole House. The several
speeches of Burke on the Rohilla charge, of Fox on the
Benares charge, and of Sheridan on the Begum charge, in
particular, were masterpieces of brilliant invective and cogent
argument On the 3d of April, 1787, it was voted that the
articles of charge furnished ground for impeaching Warren
Hastings, Esq., late Governor-General of Bengal, and that a
committee of twenty should be appointed to prepare articles
of impeachment. Burke was placed at the head of this com-
mittee ; and among his associates were Fox, Sheridan, Wind-
ham, Philip Francis, George North, and Charles Grey, then a
young man of twenty-three, just beginning a long and faithful
career in the service of the state, to be crowned forty-five
years later by the passage of the Reform Bill. The Com-
mittee reported with considerable despatch, and on the 10th
of May it was voted to impeach Hastings, and " that Mr.
Burke do go to the Lords, and at their bar, in the name of
the House of Commons, do impeach Warren Hastings, Esq.,
late Governor-General of Bengal, of High Crimes and Mis-
demeanors." In pursuance of this vote Burke, attended by
a majority of the Commons, immediately proceeded to the
bar of the House of Lords, and there impeached Hastings in
the prescribed form.

On the 13th of February, 1788, the trial commenced in
Westminster Hall, and it was continued with numerous inter-
missions until April, 1795, when the Lords voted that the
charges were not pyved. Burke's closing argument, which
lasted for nine days, had been delivered in May and June of
the preceding year ; and immediately afterward, on the 20tb
of June, 1794, the House of Commons, on the motion of Mr.
Pitt, passed a vote of thanks to " the managers of the impeach-
ment against Warren Hastings, Esq., for their faithful man-
agement in their discharge of the trust reposed in them."
This was the last day on which Burke appeared in his seat
as a member of Parliament. Having conducted the trial to
a close, so far as it depended upon the managers, he imme-
diately applied for the stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds,
and resigned his seat It has formed no part of our intention
to describe the details of this memorable trial ; for that duty

104 XDICUND vmoL [Jittk

has long since been discharged hj the greatest of living I
torians, in a manner which no subsequent writer can hqpe to
rival. Nor is it necessary to dwell upon Buri[e'8 oonneetiim
with the trial. It is sufficient to say, that neither in tbe
House of Commons when vindicating the propriety of Un
own course as a manager or seelcing to obtain new i
against the great culprit, nor when arguing before the
did he spare any exertion to secure the punishment of
tings. The voluoiinous collection of his speeches in Wes^
minster Hall, with all their wealth of fancy and imaginmtioi^
their splendor of invective, and their weight of argumoily
and the still more numerous speeches which he delivaed in
the House of Commons upon questions growing oat of tiie
trial, are an imperishable monument of his zeal, doqiiaiioei
and fidelity on this memorable occasion. To Buike, F»fting^
was, indeed, the incarnation of all the misgovemment Ibdl&
had ever suffered firom Englishmen ; and though we may oo»
damn the extravagance of language with whidb he advocated
a just cause, it may be doubted whether any stataynan wma
ever actuated by purer motives than he was in tke proa^
cution of Hastings. Yet he became extremely nnpqNiltt^
and was constantly assailed with every form of oUoquy, OB
account of the part which he took. Madame lyArhlay has
recorded in her Diary the feelings with which she saw Boifco
enter Westminster Hall, and listened to his eloquence.

^ I shuddered, and drew involantarily back," she says, ^ when, as Afli
doors were flung open, I saw Mr. Burke, as ])ead of the Committee^
make his solemn entry. He held a scroll in his hand, and walkad
alone, his brow knit with corroding care and deep laboring thoDg^-—
a brow how different to that which had proved so alluring to my wann-
est admiration when first I met him ! So highly as he had been ny
favorite, so captivating as I had found his manners and oonvenatiaa in
our first acquaintance, and so much as I had owed to his zeal and kind-
ness to me and my affairs in its progress, — how did I grieve to behoU
him now the cruel prosecutor (such to me he appeared) of an iiyared
and innocent man I . • . . Were talents such as these exercised in the ser-
vice of truth, unbiassed by party and prejudice, how could we saffiden^y
applaud their exalted possessor ? But though frequently he made me
tremble by his strong and horrible representations, his own violenoe
recovered me, by stigmatizing his assertions with personal iB'^wSl and

1859,]

BURKE.

106

designing Unberalitj. Yet, at times, I confessy with nil that I fell.
Wished, and thought concerning Mr. Hastings, the -whirlwind of hia
eloquence nearly drew me into ita Tortei."

Doubtless Madame D' Arblay io describing her own feelings
has faithfully represented those of a large number of Burke*8
fair auditors. But he was subjected to much harsher criticism
than this. The Parliamentary debates bear abundant testi-
mony to the activity and bitterness of Hastings's friends.
Once, indeed, in May, 1789, they succeeded in passing a
direct vote of censure upon Burke's conduct as a manager,
and in several instances placed serious obstacles in his way.

In the long and fierce struggle between the ministry and
the Opposition growing out of the king's illness and the in-
troduction of the Regency Bill, Burke took a very earnest part,
in support of the theory of Lord Loughborough and Mr. Fox,
and in opposition to Mr* Pitt's doctrine that the Prince of
Wales had no better title to the Regency than any other in-
dividual in the kingdom. On one occasion, in particular, he
came into sharp collision with Mr, Pitt, who replied in his
usual supercilious manner, but with scathing severity. Fol-
lowing these angry discussions a new question arose, which
divided Burke's attention, alienated him from the friends with
whom he had so long acted, and threw him into new and
strange company. From the first outbreak of the French
Revolution, Fox, Sheridan, and Grey espoused the cause of
the Revolutionists. Burke, on the other hand, departing
from the principles of his earlier years, and pardoning very
little to the spirit of liberty, entered warmly into the support
of the monarchy. The result was a violent rupture of all
those ties of friendship and affection which had so long united
him with Fox in the common advocacy of common objects.
In his place in Parliament and by numerous pamphlets he
assailed with great and increasing acrimony the principles and
the doings of the Revolutionists, and sharply condemned the
course of those who sympathized with them. His first and
least violent publication upon the subject was a pamphlet
entitled ** Reflections on the Revolution in France," which
was given to the world in the latter part of the year 1790. It
was certainly a very able and brilliant argument on the side

106 BranniD bttbkb. [$iuu

which Burke had espoused with all the ardor of a reoeot
vert ; bat few readers can fail . to notice how moch its whote
tone and spirit are at variance with his farmer writings. It
called out numerous replies, of which all but two aife fintgo^
ten, Paine's << Rights of Man," and the <« Yindida GalBoa*
of Sir James Mackintosh, a work which at once gave its «h
thor a reputation and opened the way for a sfdendid career.

On the 6th of May in the following year oocnned the mem*
orable rupture between Burke and Fox. The former h^
already broken with Sheridan, in consequence of a difleieiiM
of opinion in regard to the French Bevolution; and in a
debate on the Army Estimates in 1790 the want of sympathy
between Burke and Fox had also been dearly shown. 'WiHl
the lapse of time the opinions of both strengthened, and fheb
differences widened. Finally, in the course of a debate npoll
the Quebec Government Bill, they came to an open raptiit6|
under circumstances of painful acrimony, which might wdl
move the stoutest heart ''It certainly was indiseretfoDy**
said Burke, '' at any period, but espedaUy at his time of llfb|
to provoke enemies, or give his friends occasion to deaert Um ;
yet if his firm and steady adherence to the British oonstitii!*
tion placed him in such a dilemma, he would risk all, and, as
public duty and public prudence taught him, with his last
breath exclaim, ' Fly from the French constitution.' *^ At tUa
point Fox whispered, <' There is no loss of friends." Borim
immediately answered, that ^* there was a loss of friends ; he
knew the price of his conduct ; he had done his duty at tiitt
price of his friend ; their friendship was at an end." After
such a termination of a personal friendship which had lasted
for more than a quarter of a century, commencing even befora
Fox entered public life, it was natural that both should be
deeply moved. The Parliamentary History tells us that, when
Fox rose to reply, *< his mind was so much agitated, and hia
heart so much affected by what had fallen from Mr. Burkey
that it was some minutes before he could proceed. Tean
trickled down his cheeks, and he strove in vain to give atta^
ance to feelings that dignified and exalted his nature. The
sensibility of every member in the House appeared nnoom-
monly excited on the occasion.^ Superior as Burke waa 4e

1859.]

EDMPKI) BHIKE.

Fox in intellectual force, it must be conceded that the latter
possessed a sweetness of temper to which the great political
philosopher could never lay claim. A coolness must neces-
sarily have existed between them in consequence of the diver-
gence of their opinions ; but Fox would certainly have main-
tained friendly relations with his former teacher and ally, if
Burke^s vehemence would have permitted it.

Two months after this memorable breach Burke published
another pamphlet on the Revolution, the " Appeal from the
New to the Old Whigs," designed to show that his own
opinions were in accordance with established Whig principles.
In December of the same year he drew up and submitted to
the ministry a brief paper, entitled ^' Thoughts on French
Aflairs," in which he discussed the character and aims of the
Revolution, and maintained that the principles then preva*
lent in France were dangerous and hostile to other govern-
ments ; and in the course of the next four years lie drew up
and submitted to the ministry several other papers. Among
them were the " Heads for Consideration on the Present
State of Aflairs,'' and the *' Thoughts and Details on Scar-
city,'* the latter of which was presented to Mr. Pitt in No-
vember, 1795, and discussed with great ability the existing
condition of the agricultural population, with some remarks
on the evils to be apprehended from the spread of French
principles. The " Observations on the Conduct of the iVIi-
nority,*^ in which he sharply criticised the course of Mr. Fox,
under fifty-four specifications, and wiiich was drawn up in
1793, was also privately submitted to the Duke of Portland,
and was originally published w^ithout Burke's consent or
knowledge* In 1796 he published his eloquent and touching
*^ Letter to a Noble Lord/* in reply to the attacks upon him in
the House of Lords by the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of
Lauderdale, in consequence of the recent grant of three pen-
sions to him by the ministry. This celebrated production has
been much and justly admired, and certainly few even of
Burke-s wTitings are more remarkable specimens of min-
gled argument, invective, pathos, low conceits, and lofty elo-
quence. This was followed by three ** Letters on a Regicide
Peace." the last of which was passing through the press at

108 XDICUND BUBK& (J^

the time of his death ; and a fourth letter was also in pmptur.
ration at the same time, and was paUished in his ooUeetad
Works.

Though Burke was thus busy with his pen, he was not kDe
in Parliament during the years which intervened between his
rupture with Mr. Fox and his withdrawal from public life.
In May, 1792, he strongly opposed a reform of the xepreieii-
tation in Parliament, in the debate -upon Mr. Grey's notioe of
a motion on that subject; and a few days later he spoke at
length in opposition to Mr. Fox's motion for leave to bring ia
a bill to repeal and alter certain statutes which weighed beavilj
upon the Unitarian Dissenters. After this time, howevo*, his
speeches had reference almost exclusively to the impeaohniAiit
of Hastings, the conduct of the war with France, and the
measures of domestic coercion by which the minisfay BoagU
to quench the rising complaints of the people. Though often
marked by his accustomed power, these speeches show how
completely Burke's imagination had gained the viotory over
his reasoning faculties. The famous dagger scene was onty-
a more conspicuous illustration of the ardor of imagination
and vehemence of tone which characterized nearly all his
Parliamentary efforts at this time.

At length Burke's health gave way under these incessant
labors, and under the burden of grief laid upon him by the
death of his son on the 2d of August, 1794. This blow M
with terrible severity upon the veteran statesman, and from
that time his own strength began to decay. It was in vain
that be sought relief from the waters of Bath, where he q>ait
a part of the winter and spring of 1797. As summer ap-
proached, all hope of recovery vanished; but it was not thought
that his life was in immediate danger. He returned to Bear
consfield at the end of May ; and there he died on the 9th of
July following, calmly and peacefully, with a blessing on his
lips, and the last words of one of Addison's admirable essays
on the immortality of the soul still lingering in his ears. On
the 15th he was buried in Beaconsfield church, in the same
grave in which had recently been laid the mortal remains of
his brother and his son. The pall was borne by eight eminent
noblemen and commoners, among whom were the Dokes of

1859.] BDMUND BURKE. 109

Devonshire and Portland, Earl Fitzwilliam, nephfew and heir
of the Marquis of Rockingham, Mr. Windham, and Lord
Loughborough ; and the funeral was attended by a large con-
course of the neighboring gentry. Fox, with characteristic
generosity, proposed that the body of his former friend and
recent antagonist should be interred in that venerable abbey
where moulder the perishable remains of so much of Eng-
land's true grandeur ; but the terms of Burke's will did not
permit such an honor, and it was declined.

In considering the relations of Burke with his contempora-
ries, it is important to observe that, notwithstanding the admi-
ration which many of his speeches excited, he was never a
favorite speaker in the House of Commons. His indiscrimi- '
nate eulogists, indeed, have often attempted to overrule the
popular impression on this point. Yet it remains clear and <
indisputable that those magnificent orations, which received
the plaudits of the most competent critics in his own day, and
which stir the blood of every reader now with a livelier pulsa-
tion, were often delivered to empty benches or to unwilling and
inattentive listeners. Goldsmith's famous distich was not a
mere figment of the imagination ; and Burke's speeches were
often interrupted by the impatient movements and violent
coughing of members. Nor was this interruption caused
solely by the desire on the part of his hearers to secure good
English dinners. Their disorderly conduct frequently showed
that they had left the House for a less reputable purpose.
Burke spoke with a marked brogue ; his voice was always
sharp and shrill, and in his more passionate appeals it became
a scream. Undoubtedly the intemperance of his manner in
speaking, and the too great fi-equency of his speeches, contrib-
uted to weaken his immediate influence over the House. But
it is also obvious that his personal and party connections were
not such as to give him great popularity and weight in the
country. When he entered public life, he allied himself with
the party of Lord Rockingham, perhaps the most aristocratic
connection in English history. When the first Rockingham
ministry was broken up a few months afterward, the party
fell into a small minority ; and through the whole course of
the American war it was exceedingly unpopular both in Par-

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 10

110 BDMUHI) BUBXS. [Jittl.

liament ancf throagbout the country. Doling Lord Boddil|^
ham's second ministry, Burke held a Incratiye appointment
though he was not in the Cabinet ; bat upon the death of hit
noble patron he followed Mr. Fox into retirementi and soon
afterward he advocated the famous coalition with Loud
North. In the new ministry he again held a aaboidiinite
place, which he resigned on the dismissal of the minirten.
From that time tmtil his mptnre with Mr. Fox he web in n
minority which daily grew weaker and more unpopular. Al^
ter this memorable breach Bnrke stood alone. He had aep-
arated from his old friends, and he had not cordially nnited
with his old opponents. It is clear, therefore, that at no time
' was his position such as to give him much official weigliti or
any direct influence over the great body of his contemporaries.
At no time was he personally popular, excepting at that oom«
paratively brief period when he was engaged on the qnestton
of economical reform. Yet he took a very active part in de-
vising and defending the plans adopted by his political fiiendB.
Fox himself acknowledged the weight of his obligations to
Burke; and the influence which that great man ftanUy
avowed had been of eminent value to him, was not whoUy
unfelt by others. It may, indeed, seem strange, that, whA
Burke's friends came into oflice, they never gave him any place
in the Cabinet; but it must not be forgotten that he was r^
gardcd by many as a mere adventurer, — that he had neither
birth, fortune, nor powerful family connections. The prineipal
offices in the state were considered as in some measure be-
longing to the great families which had upheld the Revolution
Settlement, and the chief places in the government were re-
served for the scions of those houses. The great politioal
philosopher, therefore, who had labored with such untiring
zeal in defence of Whig principles, always gave precedence
to the mere men of social position.

It is certain that Burke's reputation has steadily increased
since his death ; yet it is a noteworthy circumstance, that even
now he is held in higher admiration in America than in Eng^
land. Nor need we be surprised at this, since we stand in
the relation of a more remote posterity to Burke than do the
FiHglish people, and are free from the disturbing inflnenoss

1859.] EBMUND BUBKS. Ill

whicK must necessarily be felt by English writers. In Eng-
land family traditions have still sufficient vitality to color the
popular impression of Burke and his contemporaries. It was
natural that the immediate descendants of those who were
brought into contact or collision with him should inherit the
opinions of his own day. In many instances, as in the case
of the late Lord Holland, the influence of these transmitted
opinions has very largely affected contemporary judgments*
Added to this, Burke was always a zealous partisan, and in
attempting to measure his powers English writers have at-
tached a chief importance to his opinions on party questions
of comparatively temporary moment Upon this side of the
Atlantic we are not influenced by these personal and party
considerations, and are, therefore, more attracted by the es-
sential and immutable principles which he always connected
with the discussion even of the most unimportant party ques-
tions. In other words, it is more easy and natural for American
readers to regard Burke as a great political philosopher than
as a partisan ; and under these circumstances we are some-
times apt to consider him exclusively in the former capacity,
forgetting that he united both characters. In the one char-
acter of a political philosopher he stands unrivalled among
English statesmen. In the other, as a mere party leader, he
was certainly inferior to many of his contemporaries.

The real value of Burke's writings does not consist in the
soundness of his views on the particular questions discussed
in them, nor in the general harmony and consistency of his
opinions. Few English statesmen, indeed, are less entitled
to the praise of consistency. His earlier and his later views
are often directly antagonistic; and, as Lord Brougham has
well observed, "It would, indeed, be difficult to select one
leading principle or prevailing sentiment in Mr. Burke's latest
writings, to which something extremely adverse may not be
found in his former, we can hardly say his early, works ; ex-
cepting only on the subject of Parliamentary reform." But
whatever may be the immediate question before him, he
always brings to its discussion a vast amount of information
upon every collateral topic We see at once that his argu-
ments are drawn from a long and careful study of the abstract

112 EDMUND BURKB. [Jan.

principles of political science; and however doubtfal or falla-
cious may be the particular application of these principles,
their real importance cannot be questioned, nor has any states-
man of modern times clothed his arguments in more brilliant
language. In that rich and exuberant rhetoric which is every-
where colored by an imagination more lofty and impassioned
than any other great statesman has ever possessed, familiar
truths assume a new force and vitality, and even the most
questionable views present themselves to the mind with a
persuasive appeal which cannot be easily resisted. It is, we
conceive, because all of Burke's political writings deal more
or less directly with general principles, and are cast in a form
suited to attract cultivated minds, that he must be regarded
as superior to all other English statesmen. It is certain that
the splendor of his imagination was an important element of
his power ; but it was also a cause of weakness, especially in
his later years, when it was less under his control than it had
been in the early part of his Parliamentary career. Both in
regard to Warren Hastings and to the French Revolution his
imagination seems to have usurped the place of his judgment,
and he expressed opinions which can be traced only to the
feverish workings of an ungoverned fancy. It was his course
upon these questions which, more than anything else, justifies
Lord Macaulay's assertion, that " he generally chose his side
like a fanatic, and defended it like a philosopher."

In all the relations of private life Burke's conduct was irre-
proachable. His own writings and the testimony of his con-
temporaries bear witness to the warmth of his affections and
the humanity of his sentiments. Indeed, the keenness of his
sensibilities is scarcely less remarkable than the strength of
his intellect and the gorgcousness of his fancy. From the
fashionable vices of his age he was singularly free, presenting
in this respect a marked contrast to most of his distinguished
contemporaries. Though he was fond of wine, he never drank
enough to be affected by it ; and he does not seem ever to
have frequented the gaming-table. Burke, however, was a
poor man with expensive tastes ; and there is reason to be-
lieve that all of his pecuniary transactions would not bear a
very close scrutiny. The late Lord Holland used to say that

1859.] LIFB AND WRITINGS OP DE QUINCBY. 113

he was always a jobber; but this assertion was doubtless
prompted by personal ill-will, and it must be taken with
large allowance. Still, it is clear that Burke's hands were
not entirely free from stains, and that the suspicions which
attach to his pecuniary dealings are not wholly unfounded.
It would be a gross perversion of language to say that he was
ever bribed; but his relations with Lord Rockingham were
certainly not those which should exist between statesmen.
Nor are the circumstances attending the purchase of Beacons-
field so easily explained as some of his eulogists have con-
tended.

Art. IV. — Writing's of Thomas De Quincey. Boston :
Ticknor and Fields. 1854 - 59. 21 vols.

Thomas De Quincey is a man of mark and power, who
has silently grown, out of the costly toil of nearly half a
century of culture and literary achievement, to his present
high rank and intellectual proportions. As a thinker and a
scholar he has few living equals; as a literary artist he is
without a rival. He has traversed with more or less profun-
dity of insight and research the grandest provinces in the
empire of human speculation ; and his familifU'ity with meta-
physics, and the subtile distinctions involved in them, is so
close and intimate, and his expositions are so elaborate and
lucid, as almost to produce the impression that we are hold-
ing converse with a mind contemporary with the aboriginal
secrets of nature.

This remarkable man was born at Greenhay, then a suburb
of Manchester, although now densely populated, and ab-
sorbed, indeed, into the arterial life of that city. His father
was a merchant of high standing, exclusively engaged in
foreign commerce, and possessed of a considerable fortune.
He died when De Quincey was seven years old, leaving him
and his five brothers and sisters to the care of four guardians,
with an income of £ 1,600 a year. His mother was one of
those high-born dames who belong of right to the olden time
10 •

114 un ASD wsaxsoa ow db QxnNcnr. [J«b

of England) and are now very rarely to be met witih eren ia
the best society of that country. Her manners were coatOf^
and she stood firmly by ber rank ; holding no interconne wi^
the menials of ber house, save tbrongb a goodly matron who
had the general charge of its economy. She was, in the
legitimate sense of the word, an ^ intellectual " as well ai -a
pious woman, and bad the highest sense of honor and pro-
priety in all things. De Quincey speaks of ber in terms bott
of reverence and of affection, and remembers her counsels mod
admonitions in long-after years, when she is in the grave, and
he fighting in an ^' Iliad of woes."

Notwithstanding the means at her command, she oondocted
her house with a wise prudence and watchfulness of expense ;
although she amply provided for the elegant enjoymenti but
ture, health, and happiness of her children. She trained them
to a Spartan simplicity of diet, and they fared very much leas
sumptuously than the servants. ^^ And if," adds De Qninoey,
— " if (after the model of the Emperor Marons Anrelins) I
should return thanks to Providence for all the separate bless-
ings of my early situation, these four I would idn^^ out as
worthy of special commemoration ; — that I lived in a raatae
solitude ; that this solitude was in England ; that my infant
feelings were moulded by the gentlest of sisters, and not by
horrid, pugilistic brothers ; finally, that I and they were dntifal
and loving members of a pure, holy, and magnificent church.''

The solitude in which his childhood was passed very pow*
erfully affected his subsequent life, deepening the natiually
solemn tone of his mind, and coloring his entire chaiaoter*
He marks, indeed, all the events which occurred to him at
this early period in such emphatic and startling outline and
detail, that they assume dramatic proportions, and, taken in
connection with his after years, stand there like porten-
tous heralds, ushering a dire tragedy upon the stage. They
recur in all his experience, and are alternately accessories
and principals, amid the awful scenery of his dreams; the
key, in fact, which alone unlocks the portals of his opium
creation, and renders its apocalypse intelligible. He was
precocious and premature, and seems to have known no
childhood. The«eye of consciousness was always open and

1859.] LIFB AND WRITINGS OF DE QUINCET. 115

fall-orbed within him; and thoughts, too big for entertain-
ment, although not for transient visitation, haunted his mind
continually, and shook him with unspeakable trepidations.
Solitude was not good for him, nor yet the exclusive compan-
ionship of his sisters, notwithstanding his proclaimed grati-
tude for these privileges. He relates circumstances in con-
nection with the death of his two eldest sisters which, however
incredible they may be to persons of common experience, as
trespassing upon the very boundaries of the supernatural, are
yet deeply interesting as illustrations of the natively morbid
constitution of his mind ; for we maintain that his tendencies
to opium had an organic origin, as these narratives duly pon-
dered may suflBciently prove.

When he was about one year and a half old his sister
Jane, aged three and a half, died ; and the event to him was
not, he says, so much sorrowful, as unintelligible. He had
no idea, could form no conception, of death in its essential
mystery and calamity. Little Jane had disappeared, but
how, or wherefore, he knew not. "I was sad for her ab-
sence ; but still in my heart I trusted that she would come
again. Summer and winter came again, — crocuses and roses ;
why not little Jane ? "

The feeling with which he thus associated the return of
crocuses and roses with the possible return of his sister, will,
in one of such tender years, scarcely admit of philosophical
explanation, unless, indeed, we refer it to intuition as its
source. The idea which underlies this floral analogy apper-
tains to the profoundest mysteries of man's nature, — to
resurrection and immortality, — and could not consciously,
therefore, without some preternatural and unheard-of gift of
insight, belong to the mind of an infant That the return
of the flowers, however, was, in a symbolic sense, associated
in his mind with the reappearance of his sister, he is fully
persuaded. But this is not all. Jane, during her illness,
had been intrusted to the care of a nurse who was impa-
tient of the child's complainings, and treated the little thing
with unnecessary, if not cruel harshness. The rumor of
this treatment spread naturally through the house, causing
much talk among the servants, and thus reaching the ears of

116 jjn AHD WBiXDrcM Of DB QinvoR. [Ihm

De Qaincey, who pondered it in biB heart, brooding orer it
night and day, as something awini, and altogether foieiga'
to his own nature and conceptions. < He had known nothing
up to this time bat the pare delights, the love and the beanfy
of childhood, and could have no suspicion of the tainte of
sin in that holy atmosphere which surrounded him. But nov^
and gradually, the dim consciousness that he ^was in ^
world of evil and strife" painfuUy oppressed him; and hii
dates that '^ passion of sorrows " which consumed the anbae
quent period of his childhood from this revelation.

Strange and inexplicable as all this may probably appear
to the reader, De Quincey not only believes it, but upon it*-
and the other and more important experience into wbioh this
minor one runs, carrying with it the full inflection of its feel-
ing— he builds, as we have statied, the entin system and
machinery of his visions.

The supplementary experience alluded to was derived from
another mournful spectacle of mortality. His eldest surviving
sister, Elizabeth, a girl of marvellous intellect, whom he lovad
with all the affection of his sensitive and confiding naiora,
died after a brief illness, from disease of the brain, when 1m
was about six years old. She had been all in all to Umy
and his love for her amounted to an almost religious idolatry.
Her death, therefore, affected him with emotions of grief and
anguish corresponding to the depth and measuro of his love*
He felt what it was to be alone ; for his soul was desolatei
and his young life was suddenly hung with funeral ^boin.
And now mark what follows ; for it is in every way impcstant
to the proper understanding of his development and oaieer,
as well as intensely interesting in itself, in a purely psyoho-
logical aspect The day after his sister's death, he res^ved,
in his intensely excited state, to visit her corpse, and with thia
purpose he stole unperccived into the silent chamber where it
lay. The window was <^ wide open, through which the Bun
of midsummer, at midday, was showering down torrents of
splendor. The weather was dry, the sky was cloudless, tlw
blue depths seemed the express types of infinity ; and it was
not possible for eye to behold, or for heart to conceive, aiqf
symbols more pathetic of life and the glory of life.^ FVom<l|li

1859.]

LIFE AWD WRITINGS OF DB QFINOBT.

li:

gorgeous sunlight he turned to the corpse, and gazed loivg
upon the frozen eyelids, "the marble lips, the stiffening hands,
laid palm to palm, aa if repeating the supplications of closing
anguish." And as he gazed, ** a solemn wind began to blow
— the saddest that ear ever heard. It was a wind that might
have swept the fields of mortalitij for a thousand centuries ^^ ;
whose "hollow, sad, Memnonian, but saintly swell," he calls
"the one great audible symbol of eternity-'! Then, in his
own words, " a trance fell upon me, A vault seemed to open
in the zenith of the far blue sky, a shaft which ran up for ever.
Frost gathering frost, some Sarsar wind of death seemed to
repel me; some mighty relation between God and death dimly
struggled to evolve itself from the dreadful antagonism be-
tween them. I slept — for how long I cannot say: slowly I
recovered my self-possession ; and, when 1 woke, found myself
standing-^ as before, close to my sister's bed." This strange
apparition, amidst the solemnities of death on the one hand,
and the beauties of summer on the other, conjured up by the
breathings of that mighty wind, is in itself— considered as a
psychological manifestation produced under the pressure of
profound grief and intense imaginative excitement — quite as
wonderful, startling, and suggestive, as anything to be found
in the " Confessions of an Opium-Eater,"

The presence of great and exciting circumstances, however,
although in the instance alluded to they were doubtless the
immediate causes of the vision, was not at all essential as
operative or condition, in the ordinary dreamings of De
Quincey^s childhood. His mind seems to have been in a
state always bordering on ecstasy, — especially after the
death of his sister ; and ^' trailing clouds of glory " attended
his outgoings and incomings, like some surpassing heavenly
pageant He loved solitude and silence. *« The awful still-
ness oftentimes of summer noons, when no winds were
abroad, the appealing silence of gray or misty afternoons, —
these were fascinations as of witchcraft. Into the woods,
into the desert air I gazed,'- he says, "as if some comfort
lay hid in them. Obstinately I tormented the blue depths
with my scrutiny, sweeping them for ever with my eyes, and

irching them for one angelic face that might, perhaps, have

118 im AJXD WBHiNGS oy dk quxncht. Puk

permission to reveal itself for a moment." IBs deep
consumed him as with Promethean fire. The natorali
tif ul, and most mysterious intuitions of childhood, which gnm
glory and supersensuous meaning to the grass and the flow*
ers, to clouds and sunlight, to solitude and the song of biid%
were very vital and vivid to De Quinceyi and, aided by hu
imagination and the dream-faculty, enabled him to live in tfaft
splendor, if also in the sorrow, of more than mortal^expii^
rience. Sorrow is distinguished from grief by its sabmiMJflB
and repose. Grief in her has been transfigured by £uth aod
love ; and hence her divinity, and silent, irresistible powen
De Quincey had not yet, at least, knovra sorrow in this senae;
his was << rapacious grief, that grasped at what it could not
obtain." And yet under its influence << the faculty of shaping
images in the distance out of slight elements, and groapiBg
them after the yearnings of his heart,'' grew upon him Uk
morbid excess. He gives in the << Suspiria " a magnifioenk
picture of this faculty, whose more than Titian splendor of
outline and coloring would vanish by mutilatiooy and it is
too long to quote entire. The subject is his Sunday moroing
dreams while in an old English church, ^ having aiileay gil*
leries, organ, all things ancient and venerable, and the pio»
portions majestic."

It is remarkable that these scenes, and the drama of hia
childhood, are continually recurring in his after life and hit
writings; and he gives us affecting proofs of their
power in his " Autobiographical Sketches."

As soon as he was old enough he was sent to school, ps
ing from one school to another, with very little discretion M
to the choice on the part of his guardians. He made moat
proficiency, however, at the Bath Grammar School, where he
had the advantage of an Etonian master, under whose inatnio-
tion he achieved a rapid progress, especially in Greek, which
he wrote at thirteen with ease, and spoke at fifteen as fluently
as his mother tongue. Alluding to this remarkable aequiie*
ment, his master once said to a person with whom be vraa
conversing, ^'That boy could harangue an Athenian mob
better tiian you or I an English one." He had a natoml
gift for this language, and he obtained his mastery over it-^

tiiw AWB WRiniros of IJE QtrtirOBT.

so far as knowledge of words and their structure is concerned,
although not in the high sense of criticism — by extensive
reading of Greek writers, by compositions, and the daily trans-
lation of English books and newspapers into the Attic tongue.
The last public school to which he was sent was the Gram*
mar School at Manchester, then presided over by a " clumsy
and inelegant," though a respectable scholar. He could teach
De Quincey nothing, however; and being now seventeen
years of age, and having long and unavailingly desired his
gaardians, who had quarrelled with him, — or with whom he
had quarrelled, — to allow him sufficient funds to support him
at college, he resolved that at all events he would be a school-
boy no longer; that he would work his way to London, in
short., and try the doubtful, and even, when successful, ruinous
experiment of borrowing money for his college expenses of
the Jews. During one of his vacations he had been invited
by Lord Westport, then a young man about his own age,
to spend a few weeks with him in Ireland ; during the visit
he made what might be called an intimate acquaintance with
Lady Carbery, — a name familiar to all readers of Jeremy
Taylor; and to her hr now applied for the loan of five
pounds, without telling her for what purpose the money wai*
wanted. A few posts brought him an answer, and an enclos.
ure often pounds, and with this sum he ventured to abscond,
and cast himself adrift upon the world, bending his steps
towards North Wales. He wandered through various parts
of the Principality, — meeting with some curious adventures
by the way, — until his resources were nearly exhausted. He
suffered much from hunger and exposure, often sleeping out
of doors at night, until he finally found himself in Ijondon,
penniless and alone.

Here he became acquainted with a lawyer who was a sort
of jackal to the Jews, to whom, although he received no pe-
cuniary relief from him, or through him, he was nevertheless
indebted for shelter, and an occasional crust, which, if it were
not given to him, he did not scruple to take from the lawyer's
breakfast-table, as the occasion served. The shelter afforded
to him was that of a large house, uninhabited except by
one poor, lonely, and friendless child, — a little girl about ten

120 Lin ARD wBCcnrGB ov bb QuiRoir. [Hm

years old She was also bunger-bitteni as well as ragged rnncl
desolate; for her master — if he were not her fatheri as 1m|
probably was — utterly neglected her, never sleeping in tha
house, and, indeed, often changing his lodging for pnrpoaepi
bes known to himself, and very scantily providing her with
food and clothing. Ghreat was her joy when she found iho
was to have a companion to make the loneliness of that amplj
house less fearfully dreary. For superadded to her great
and touching physical misery was the appalling fear of ghost%
which in the silence of the night — broken only by the uat
earthly noise of rais in their infernal revels — haunted tba
mind of the poor, weak child with perpetual and'incoooeivablo
terror. And so at night they lay down togetheri thear pillow
<< a bundle of cursed law papers," their covering a ^laige hona-
man's cloak," or fragment of a worn-out rug. Ha speaks of
the tumultuousness of his dreams at this time as scaioefy
less awful than his subsequent opium dreams. He was a^
tacked also by a ^twitching" sensation in the region of tka
stomach, which was horrible to bear ; and the result was utter
prostration both of mind and body. In this mysteiioos honae
De Quincey spent the nights of many weeks; he a "famiBlH
ing scholar," with no other companion save a neglected chiM,
whom ^^ I loved," he says, <^ because she was the partner of
my wretchedness." His days were passed, for the most part»
in the parks and street-wildernesses of the mighty city.

Misery touches springs in the human heart which open in-
finite depths of sympathy, and reveal to us how mighty and
far-reaching and wide-circling are the roots of our oommon
nature. For man, wherever and under what circumstanoes
soever he may be placed, is still man ; and the highest and
the lowest are bound together by the common ties of Uood
and primordial ancestry, by the> traditions and history of the
common race, and by the spiritualities and profundities of tha
common human nature. And even in cases of sad profligacy
and crime, purity herself has no right to withhold the words
of love and consolation, and the promises which Gk>d himself
has vouchsafed to the repentant sinner. We will not hesitate,
therefore, to unfold one more scene in the revelation of De
Quincey's waking visions and experience of London miseryi

1859.] LIFE AND WRITINGS OP DE QUINCEY. 121

although it is not one of which we should voluntarily have
chosen to speak. It is, indeed, all-important, in its issues,
to De Quincey's history ; for in the absence of the chief actor
in this scene he would have had no subsequent history at all,
but would have perished upon the stage.

In his street wanderings he had become acquainted —
not with any impure purpose, but by accident — with an un-
fortunate girl, known to him only by her Christian name of
Ann. She was not more than sixteen years old, and pacing
with her up and down Oxford Street, he learned her story.
She had been cruelly treated, and robbed of her little property
by a villain who seduced her, and then turned her out of
doors. De Quincey was to have gone with her, and spoken
for her to a magistrate, and this was arranged between them,
but destined never to take place. In the mean while, the fol-
lowing touching scene occurred, which will show how fearfully
hunger, and its accompanying symptoms and consequences,
had seized upon his constitution, and how all this was silently
preparing the way for the advent and mission of opium to him
and his experience. We quote De Quincey's words : —

"One night, when we were pacing slowly along Oxford Street, and
after a day when I had felt unusually ill and faint, I requested her
to turn off with me into Soho Square. Thither we went ; and we sat
down on the steps of a house, which, to this hour, I never pass with-
out a pang of grief, and an inner act of homage to the spirit of that un-
happy girl, in memory of the noble act which she there performed.
Suddenly, as we sat, I grew much Wv.rse. I had been leaning my head
against her bosom, and all at on e J sank from her arms and fell back-
wards on the steps. From the sensations I then had, I felt an inner
conviction of the liveliest kind, that without some powerful and reviv-
ing stimulus I should either have died on the spot, or should at least
have sunk to a point of exhaustion from which all re-ascent, under my
friendless circumstances, would soon have become hopeless. Then it
was, at this crisis of my fate, that my poor orphan companion, who had
herself met with little but injuries in this world, stretched out a saving
hand to me. Uttering a cry of terror, but without a moment's delay, she
ran off into Oxford Street, and in less time than could be imagined re-
turned to me with a glass of port-wine and spices, that acted upon my
empty stomach (which at that time would have rejected all solid food)
with an instantaneous power of restoration; and for this glass the

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182. 11

122 Um AND WBITIKG8 OF DB QUIirOST. [Jt

generous girl, withoal a marmary paid oat of her own hamfale
at a time, be it remembered, when she had scarcelj wherawitlial to
purchase the bare neoeasaries of life, and when she ooold hare no
reason to expect that I should ever be able to reimburse her.".

It is moving to see, as in this instance, bow the hmnaa
heart, great in its lowest condition and chrcamstanoefly great to
the last, vibrates at the touch of misery to the old melody in
which it was originally tuned by Gbd, — the melody of hea^
en's own tenderness and love, whose mighty breathinga Boa-
tain the burdens of humanity and are the very pnlsea of its
life. And this is especially the case in woman, whose natnie^
being more finely set and harmoniously adjusted than that
of man, is, on this account, more sensitive to impression, and
more beautiful and touching in its passionate responeesi its
marvellous heights and depths of affection. God has meroi-
fully ordained that sin itself shall not be omnipotent in its
malevolence ; but that earthly glories, bursting even from the
ruins of the human heart, shall have power to mitigate its an*
sterity, and to illuminate its baleful darkness ; — not to speak
of that mightier and supernatural glory, which, as tfafongh a
shaft sunk from heaven to earth, and to its lowest abyasei (tf
pollution, streams for ever, in sublime symbolism, from the
blood and passion, the agony and the triumphs of Calvary.
Otherwise, sad indeed would be the lot of man upon this
earth. Sad it is, at the best ; but hopeless it is not

Shortly after the scene in Soho Square, above described,
Do Quincey chanced to meet a gentleman of the Swing's
Household who had known his father, and had received hos-
pitalities at various times from his family. He challenged
him on the strength of his family likeness ; and De Qninoey
confessed all to him, on condition that he should not betray him
to his guardians. The next morning he received a ten-poond
note from this gentieman, and with the money he resolved to
go to Eton, and try to interest some of his patrician friends
there to aid him in getting to the University. After fhiitiess
applications to these noble persons, and also to more ignoUe
Jews, he is finally reconciled to his guardians, and commences
his University career. Those who desire to know the history
of his intermediate adventures, and how he parted from Ann,

1659.]

AITD WHI

?OS OF T)B Qt

123

and lost her forever in the chaos and darkness of London, may
find thera written in the " CoiifessionSj'* and Ann's story, at
least, a tragedy of tears.

Taking into consideration his original nature^ the precocity
of his childhood, his indic;cnoua dream faculty, and the won-
drous waking visions which haunted his nursery days, — his
extreme i^olian sensibility to natural objects, — to love also,
and pity, and the passion of sorrow, — a sensibility which is
the very aroma of feeling, and which coarser and more healthy
minds cannot so much as imagine, — considering all these
things, we perceive at once his predisposition to opium-ex-
citement. Living as he did in a world of emotions and im-
agery far removed from actual life, it was no wonder that, when
ho came into contact with life, his mind should shrink from its
savage and terrible reality, as from something unholy. When^
therefore, he found that through the instrumentality of opium
he could not only indulge in his Oriental dreams at pleasure,
but multiply them in extent, number, and voluptuousness, he
readily fell into its lures*

His " Confessions of an English Opium-Eater,-* in which
he describes the effect of this drug upon his mind, burst upon
the world like a new Apocalypse ; and such indeed it essen-
tially was. For no one before him had ventured to proclaim
his experience of this power; and few were ever gifted with
such faculties of analysis and description as he possesses, even
had they been inclined to be thus venturesome* Amid the
darkesjt and most shadowy regions of his imagination, how-
ever, before whose dread and solemn pageantry the heart of
man shrinks appalled, as if it were orphaned and alone in
some universe of woe abandoned by God, he walks with philo-
sophic calmness. He is familiar with the colossal scenery of
the spiritual world ; looks down with clear and steady eye into
bottomless starry gulfs ; and walks unscathed amid solar sys-
terns and burning planets, trampling, under arching galaxies,
the aisles of measureless space, surrounded by all the vast, un-
built magnificence, the cathedral pomp of the universe. It is
his privilege to wander thus, the Alone with the Alone, and hold
therewith his awful and unspeakable communions ; — his priv-
ilege, and also his punishment; — a sublime punishment, which

124 un AND wBTEnfOB oy db gmNOir. [Ja

words cannot pictnre, under tbe immensity of whose j
even an archangel might stagger; and which he can iiip^
port only by the agency of that dreadful magician whom ka
apostrophizes as '^jnst, subtile, and mighty," to give and to
sustain. That magician, as we have before seen, is Opiam ;
and herein liea^the secret of his preternatural poww, the splm*
dor of his visions, his divine ecstasies, his satanie agonk
He has bartered the normal condition of his great and
velious faculties, the natural health and vigor of his mind and
body, for an abnormal, clairvoyant state, in which the amil
magnifies the phenomena of nature, and incorporates them
with its own feelings and images, until the universe beoomea
one mighty consciousness of inconceivable rapture and pora
intellectual blessedness, or of the most appalling gloom, hoROTi
and despair. All his experiences are sublime and vast ; attend-
ed in their history and pmgress by unearthly acoeasoiiesi by
beings of an unknown creation, of an undistingnishable sex ;—
now sweeping through cloud-lands of fire and splendor, and
anon through regions of tumultuous, unimaginable daifaieaa.

Words, indeed, are altogether inadequate to paint the
scenery and companions of this mighty dreamei's marah
through the regions of the imagination. He, himself, with all
his opulence of language, and power of description and color-
ing, does little more than to suggest the fiery outline, leaving
the reader to fill up and frame the interior picture as he beat
may. Never before, however, were such bold and vivid lim-
nings of gorgeous visions traced by pen or pencil; and the
wonder of the performance is expanded and deepened by the
profound spirituality with which he invests them. They are
but shadows projected by the soul, whicli thus seeks to give
expression to its surging aspirations, and to absorb time,
space, the universe, and God in its own immense existence.

In a purely psychological sense, how intensely interesting
are these preternatural, fire-wrought experiences, and what
new, strange, and startling speculations do they suggest!
Here is a man who possesses the secret by which be can and
does live in a state of unutterable splendor and glory, both of
intellect and feeling, alternating with unutterable gloom and
terror : this last, however, not the necessary product of any

1859.] UFB AND WRITINGS OF DB QUINCBT. 125

forces of the mind reacting from a previous beatific condition,
but resulting from causes over which the agent has, in the first
instance at least, an absolute control; inasmuch as they
spring only from an excessive abuse of the enchanted drug,
and need not constitute the staple, therefore, of the opium-
eater's dreams, or form any part of the phantasms of his vis-
ions. So at least we gather from the " Confessions " ; for De
Quincey says that for ten years he "lived on earth the life of
a Demiurgus, and kept the keys of Paradise."

One dread epoch, however, there seems to be in opium
experience, as the result of its long-continued use and exces-
sive abuse, — and that is the termination of all splendid scenes
and visions, and the commencement of an eternity of gloom
and cryptic horror ; peopled by dreadful human faces, shad-
owy, pursuing hands, and fiendish forms of Miltonic bulk,
longitude, and deformity.

In the atmosphere of opium, and with this full, final, and
fatal experience of its operations, De Quincey's life has
been passed. His writings are everywhere stained with
its colors, and flame with its illuminations. Nor docs he
regret his acquaintance with it, but rejoices over it rather, as
a new inlet of power, and an introduction for him to occult
scenes and knowledge, hidden to merely mortal eyes behind
the veils of the universe. He mourns, it is true, over his
abu^e of its bounteous gifts, but he lays no guilt at the
threshold of that dark abode which it inhabits. Nor does he
impugn its veracity or integrity, or pretend that he has been
cheated by any false promises which it held out to him.
What it professed it performed, under the sole condition
that he should use it for love, and not for lust. If he violated
this condition, he must accept the penalty ; and accordingly
he is just to its character, by proclaiming that the accumulated
agonies of his later mental and physical existence were but
the result of his own voluntary transgression. This, however,
if true, which we vehemently doubt, is but an individual ex-
perience, and an exception to the known dealings of opium
with the human mind. It is commonly a cheat and a liar ;
mocking misery with a brief delusion, and crime with a brief
oblivion, as if the prince of darkness himself had brought the
11*

126 im AiTD wbiunqb ot bb quincbt. {Aub

accursed drug to man in order to diatarb by ita aubtile wink-
ing the harmony and economy of God'a government of the
world. For even while it heightena the moral peroeptkHUi
and augments, as in De Quincey'a case, the grandeur and
intensity of the moral aspirations and of the intellecti it
paralyzes the will, and makes the living man a powcrieas
corpse.

It was in the year 1804, during one of his Univenity vaoii*
tions, that, being distracted with toothachei he first took
opium as a palliative. The scene of this irreversible step
was a druggist's shop in London ; and he relates all the ofe-
cumstances with the minuteness of a Pre-Raphaelite| tbrowing
over them also the air and the coloring of a profound my^
tery, unwilling, as he says, to connect any mortal remraa-
brances with the hour, place, and creature that first brougU
him acquainted with the celestial drug. And under its in-
fluence he sought for pleasures of a purely ssathetic and
intellectual nature. Grassini sang at the opera in those days,
and thither De Quincey went, feasting his soul with melody
such as Mahomet never dreamed of in the atmosphere of his
enchanted paradise, — melody which built up for him palaces
of inconceivable splendor, and surrounded him with a new
creation of feeling, intellect, and imagination. He mixed
also on Saturday nights with the poor, lingered in pun
sympathy over their marketings, and heard all their disap-
pointments, hopes, and rejoicings, in the same spirit of on-
alloyed human love. Or he wandered for hours and milaSi
absorbed in contemplation, through the thorough£eures and
Sphinxine labyrinths of London.

It was in solitude, however, that he sought and obtained
his most serene and elaborate pleasures. Often he has sat
for hours in delicious reveries; and ^^more than onoe,'' he
says, ^' it has happened to me, on a summer night, when I
have been at an open window, in a room from which I could
overlook the sea at a mile below me, that I have sat firom
sunset to sunrise, motionless, and without wishing to move."

In 1812 De Quincey is living at Orasmere, in the compan-
ionship of Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge, and has
become acquainted with Professor Wilson. Here, in Us

1869.] LIFB AND WRITINGS OP DE QUINCBY. 127

pretty cottage, — once occupied by Wordsworth, — with the
lake at his feet and the mountain heights and woods behind
and around him, he studies, in his library, consisting of some
five thousand volumes, the metaphysics of Kant, Fichte, and
Schelling ; or he revels in the dream phantasies and imagi-
native wildernesses of Jean Paul. We see, indeed, in all
his serious writings, how deeply he has been affected by
German thinking and literature; although he never for a
moment drops his own individuality, or bows his regal in-
tellect before the kings of these mighty revelations. He is
their peer and equal. And at this period he has no con-
ception, he says, of the avenging terrors which opium has in
store for those who abuse its leniency. Hitherto, he has been
a dilettante opium-eater, of eight years' practice certainly, but
always allowing time for the system to recover, partially at
least, from one debauch before he commenced another. He
has taken opium like a man of science and an artist ; but in
the middle of 1813 he is attacked by that horrible gnawing of
the stomach, which flung him into such sleeping and waking
agonies in the great, lone house in London, before he had
tampered with opium at all. This sensation, originally in-
duced by extreme hunger, now returns to him, and will yield
to nothing but opium constantly exhibited.

From this time laudanum entered regularly into the articles
of bis daily consumption, and was consumed by him, for the
next three years at least, at the rate of eight thousand drops
per day. Suddenly, about the year 1816, he descended from
this enormous quantity to one thousand drops per day.
Twice he broke loose from the thraldom altogether ; and the
struggle which he made to effect this is one of the most
heroic in its progress and triumph to be found in the records
of human agony. Again, however, he tumbles into the
abyss, and arrives at last at an " Iliad of woes." At night,
as he lay in bed, vast processions moved along in mournful
pomp; friezes of never-ending stories that to his feelings were
as sad and solemn as if they were stories drawn from times
before CEdipus or Priam, — before Tyre, before Memphis.
He descended nightly into chasms and sunless abysses, depths
below depths, from which it seemed hopeless that he should

128 UFB ARD wBrrmos ot ba qudtokt. [Jan.

ever reascend. Nor did he by waking feel that he bad re»
ascended. Buildings and landscapes were exhibited in pro-
portions more vast than the bodily eye is fitted to receive.
Space swelled, and was amplified to an extent of nnntteraUe
infinity. All the incidents of his childhood and entire life
were ever recurring to him. His life had many liveSi and he
was familiar with death, and eternity, and all the dreadful
retributions of God.

Such, in imperfect ontline, is the story of De Qninoey'e
opium experience. He now lives in a village abont twelve
miles from Edinburgh, and makes occasional additions to the
numerous volumes which his collected Worics at present
comprise. That he should have efiected so mnch under the
pressure of such mental horrors as we have described| and
the disadvantages of pain, suffering, and that lethargy, and
often utter impotence, of volition and action which opium
induces, is little short of miraculous. This lethargy, howevefi
alternates with periods of great activity, and J)e Qninoey
seems to have taken advantage of them. There is no sign
of decay visible in any of his later productions, whhdi is also
marvellous. He is as vigorous as ever.

We have no space left to enter upon a critical examina-
tion of his writings with a view of ascertaining his body of
thought and opinion, and assigning to him his true histori-
cal position. This is, however, a work to be done ; althongfa
the fragmentary character of his compositions, scattered over
so wide a field of inquiry, will render the task somewhat
difiicult. He has no great work to which we can point at
his OpuSj and by which he can be judged. He lies, broad
and vast through these volumes, disjecta membra of colos-
sal proportions, which require to be gathered up, as we said,
and put into human fashion. But no living man has written,
on so many questions, so much and so well. He knows
many things, and all of them thoroughly, so that he has al-
ways a wise word to speak concerning them. He is a math^
matician as well as a metaphysician ; he is not only a phi-
lologist, but equally an accomplished and profound logician.
He delights in the higher geometry, and loves to face thoee
abstract truths upon which Nature rests, with all her forces,

185a]

Am> WMTINGS OF DE QDINCEY.

129

creatures, powers, and empires. He has studied with a criti-
cal eye the philosophy of Plato and Kant; of Aristotle and
Bacon ; and he is a master in the science of political econ-
omy. Long before Ricardo had published his " Principle^J
of Political Economy and Taxation," — that is to say, earlier'
than the year 1811, Ricardo publishing in 1817, — De Quincey
was in that field- And it is singular, as evincing the nature
and elasticity of his mind, that he took to the study of politi-
cal economy as an amuscmentj at a time when his intellect
was weakened and broken by his opium excesses. He read
all the books and miscellaneous w^ritings on' the subjectj
which nearly two centuries had produced, in hope of finding
some ray of light to illuminate the dark foundations of that
science. But he found authors, and pamphleteers, and par-
liamentary debaters, alike ignorant of its first principles, —
their productions ** the very dregs and rinsings of the human
intellect," — and be tnrned from them in disgust. At last Ri»
cardo's book appeared, and before he had finished the first
chapter, ** I said," he writes, " * Thou art the man ! "' He
saw at once the worthy claims of this new candidate for
honors, who *^ had deduced, a priori^ from the understanding
itself, laws whiclj first gave a ray of light into the unwieldy
chaos of materials, and had constructed what had been but
a collection of tentative discussions into a science of regular
proportions, now first standing on an eternal basis."

This book made an epoch in De Quincey\s mind, and he gave
an exposition of its principles in a paper called " The Tem-
plar's Dialogues," which is one of the finest pieces of reason-
ing in the language. " He who has fully mastered the doc-
trine of Value, is already a good political economist.'^ These
are his words, and this doctrine is the subject of his elucidation.
Arid as the subject is, he has made it interesting, and even
attractive, by his genius and matchless colloquial power. He
turns from it with perfect ease to descant on " The Theory
of the Greek Drama,'* " On the Poets of England," and " On
Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts," or he asserts his
manliness and hatred of cant, somewhat preposterously, in-
deed, by a philoisophical apology for war.

Indeed, on whatever platform he appears, he always makes]

130 un ASD WBinHas of db quincst. [J«fl«

some original and gennine contribution to the discuflnoik
As an historian he has given hints of unrivalled powers, and
it is much to be regretted that he has not devoted himself to
some great section of ancient or modern history. He infiuM
the breath of life into his characters ; and the scenery wbioh
surrounds them glows with natural beauiy, is atmospheiio^
and sunny with the golden light of day. His ^ Bevolt of tfas
Tartars " leaves nothing to be desired as a dramatic repreflm*
tation of a great and affecting historical event It la inattnet
with life, and the portraiture of fierce passionsi agonies, and
tragic results. Nor can anything be finer than his imperatorial
history of << The Cssars," in the course of which there an
many indications of neglected difficulties, which ought not| as
he elsewhere says, to have been left unremoved to any one in
the nineteenth century.

He excels also as a biographer, and is perhaps, firom his
long study of and intimate acquaintance with the aubjeot, the
only living man who could write a life of Milton. Hispapen
on classical subjects, ^ The Sphinx's Riddle," for example, are
not only learned and philosophical, but they often elucidate
the hidden meaning of the symbolism of mythology firom a
deeper insight than any other writer, with whom we are ac*
quainted, has attained. This is, perhaps, natural to him; for
his genius is cryptic, and instinctively reads the ciphers and
hieroglyphs of dark and mythic things. Whatever posseaaee
mysterious and sublime features and lineaments is also pe*
culiarly attractive to him. His creative faculty is so active
and suggestive of phenomena, that he fills up the most shad-
owy outlines of such mysteries with the form and pressure of
bodily reality. His paper " On the Revelations of Lord Rosse's
Telescope " is a case in point. The nebulee of Orion, discov-
ercd at last in those fearful distances which separate them firom
the solar system and all mental conception, assume in his eyea
the shape of an apparition, abominable and utterly revolting;
His mind is populous with this kind of creation; and also with
that of beauty. Witness his " Dream Fugues," suggested no
doubt by Jean Paul's essays at Dream Creation, and other ana-
lects from his writings, but far superior to them as to art, in the
superb chastity and beauty of their finish. Richter, indeed, 1

LtPE AND TTRrriNOS OF DE QTOTCET.

the dream character of his effusions in the elaborate details
with which he crowds them; while De Quincey in this most
difficult of all the forms of composition, rendered so from
ita floating subjectivity, never fails in bis effect, because be
seizes upon the greut features of the drama, and centres all the
interest of evolution upon them. Jean Paul and De Quincey
divide between them the kingdom of our dream literature.

As a moralist De Quincey takes his stand upon Christian-
ity, and his whole system of belief is built upon it. He is a
sincere Christian believer, without compromise or reserve.
To what extent he is orthodox by any ecclesiastical standard
we do not certainly know. But he everywhere extols the
Christian religion, is jealous for its character and sanctity,
dreading to be classed with unbelievers, and going painfully
out of his way sometimes to defend himself from imputations
of that kind, as in his long note to the Lord Eosse paper. In
his tract on the '* Essenes," he evinces his zeal for Christianity
by attempting to prove that the Essenes were Christians under
another name, and not an earlier or a distinct sect; for he
sees that Christianity before Christ means also Christianity
wiihoui Christ; and in liis own words, ** If, therefore, Essenism
could make good its pretensions, there at one blow would be
an end of Christianity, which in that case is not only super-
seded, as an idle repetition of a religious system already pub-
lished, but also as a criminal plagiarism*" Hence De Quincey
to the rescue I not this timo, we think, with satisfactory issue,
although with bravest knighthood.

We should scarcely be pardoned by those who know and
love De Quincey, if we neglected to note here the fine vein
of humor which runs through his writings. For, strange as
it may appear to those who know him only by bis Opium
Confessions, and the majority of readers are shut down in
{heir knowledge of him within these limits, he is essentially a
humorist, and cannot restrain himself. Humor is in him, and
must out. It pervades all his essays, intruding occasionally
even into the sacred precincts of sorrow and tragic catastro-
phe, where clearly it can have no functional rights, and must
therefore be a fatal and unpardonable mistake of judgment ;

but otherwise manifesting itself in a

legitimate and endless

132 ABILABI). [iHi

variety of forms, now gay and liyely, now caoatio and
now bursting out in moltitodinoas ringing koghter.

In person he is anything but prepossessing; being diminiitift
in stature and awkward in his movements, with a shriveOady
yellow, parchment skin. His head, however, is snpeihy and
his face remarkably sensitive and expressive ; the eyes auaheiiy
but brilliant with the fire of genius and the illnminations of
opium. In .manners he is a model of decoram, urbanityi and
natural, unafiected gentility. He is a magnificent talkery mad
a fine reader, — which last quality he notes as a rare aeooBH
plishment, whether among men or women. He is genial and
hospitable in his household. He performs set tasks <rf walk-
ing, day by day, in his garden, and marks his progress by de*
posits of stones. He has offered his body, after death, to llie
surgeons, for dissection, as Us contribution to physidogioal
science. He seriously believes that the dreadful gnawing of
the stomach already alluded to, which arises periiaps fipom
the collapse and impotency of that organ tbrongh the me
of opium, is caused by the ravages of a living animaL He ia
singular in his habits, often disappears firom his borne for days
together, — no inquiry being made after him by his IHendBi^-
and returns as mysteriously as he went He has two daugh-
ters, one of whom is married to an officer in the Indian army;
the other and eldest presides over the house, and acta as Ms
amanuensis.

Art. V. — 1. Abelard. Par Charles db Reiiusat. Yob.

I., II. Paris : Librairie Philosophique de Ladrange. 184fi.

8vo. pp. 509, 563.
2. Die Kirche Christi und ihre Zeugen oder die JBrekem-

geschichte in Biograph ei^ durch Friedrich BShumobb.

2^^ Band, 2^ Abtheilung. Zurich : Verlag von Meyer und

Zeller. 1854. 8vo. pp. 662.

Tub second of the above-named works may be dismissed
with the general remark, that the volume b in every lespeek
worthy of the series to which it belongs. Beside the iHOgrar

ABELABD.

133

phy of Abelard and Heloiee, it contains Lives of St* Francis,
Pope Innocent IIL, and that singular saint, Elizabeth of
Hungary. The style and the method of Bohringer cannot be
too highly commended, and his candor is so impartial, that
we have not yet found from his works to what church he
belongs, or what are his religious opinions.

His account of the French philosopher, however, is only a
condensed translation of the great work of R^musat^ from
which all his facts and most of his opinions are drawn. The
source is excellent. When a writer like R^musat gives the
results of a biographical study, there will be little left of
value for any new explorer in the field. To minuteness of
research, to breadth of view, to a masterly power of grouping
facts and conceiving scenes, he joins a diction at once mas-
culine and musical. No writer handles more easily, more
lovingly, or more intelligently the hard subtUties of the scho-
lastic philosophy. No man can more delight in threading
the mazes of mediseval disputes, and reducing to shape and
comeliness their tangled web. It is Charles de Remusat who
has best made known to France the convent life and political
disputes of England in the eleventh century, the scholastic
life of the Continent in the twelfth century, and the later
philosophies of Germany, from Kant to Ilegel; while another
of the name, Abel de Remusat, has gathered up the fragments
of Indian pliilosophy. Among French savans the name of
R^mnsat deserves honor equal to that of St. Hilaire, and
second only to that of Cousin.

We shall not attempt to indicate the manifold and differing
authorities which M. Remusat was compelled, in preparing
his work, to examine, understand, compare, and harmonize.
No subject of biography has been written about more fre-
quently, more learnedly, more obscurely, and more absurdly.
Folios, quartos, octavos, duodecimos, and diamond pocket
editions, in bad Latin, indiflerent French, antiquated English,
and, worst of all, genuine philosophic German, warned the en-
thusiast to pause at the threshold of his task. The treasures of
the Parisian libraries terrify, while they aid; and stout nerves
arc needed to undertake a work of which the materials are
so complex and redundant. To separate myth from fact in

VOL. LXXXVUIt NO. 182. 12

134 ABELARD. .[JiuL

the biography was not easy ; but this was a light and pteaaaiit
task compared with that of redncing to system the philoaoplgr,
the theology, and the ethics of the great scholastic
The second task has, nevertheless, been as soccessfally
complished as the first

M. R6musat divides his work into three books. The
treats of the life of Abelard, and tells all that is cotainfy
known concerning him, his fortunes, bis contiovendeSi hb
labors, and his love. The second, in ten chapters, treats of
his philosophy, dialectics, psychology, and metaphysics. The
first of these chapters is a remarkable summary of the histoiy
of scholasticism previously to the twelfth century, and the
second is an equally remarkable statement of the great scho-
lastic question as Abelard found it The influence of Aria*
totle is ingeniously traced, and the reasons for the triumph
of nominalism are fully set forth. The third division of the
work, which is the longest, ablest, and most striking in the
display of copious erudition, treats of the doctrine of Abelard
in theology and morals, with a criticism of some of his mis*
cellaneous writings. To give even a synopsis of the scientific
part of M. R^musaf s work would require more space than we
have at command. We prefer to spare our readers, and to
confine ourselves to the more entertaining portion contained
in the first book. It were presumptuous for any but a skilled
metaphysician to criticise or mutilate what must be fully read
to be well comprehended.

In the cemetery of Paris, which bears the name of Pdre Im
Chaise, at the right of the small gate on the Rue St Andri,
and close to the narrow strip of earth where the graves of
Jews are crowded together, is the monument which every
visitor first seeks and longest remembers, — that of Heloiae
and Abelard. The dingy, florid canopy, pinnacled and crock-
eted, which covers it, is not in the purest style of Gothie art,
nor have the recumbent statues, however faithful in their
likeness, the merit of remarkable beauty. The interest of
the monument lies in the romantic story which it symbolises,
and the evident popular reverence of which it is the centre.
At almost any hour of the day, some man or woman of the
people may be found waiting and gazing there. The work*

1859J

ABELARD,

135

man spares a few sous to hang on the railing his votive
wreath, the offering of his holiday, and the flower-girl saves
from her stock a handful of roses to drop upon this tomb.
The rough artisans of the Fauboarf^ St. Antoine love to come
hither; and, if they cannot explain the rude Greek inscrip-
tion,* or see in this pair of figures the eternal marriage of
philosophy and religion, they can discover a charm which
tames them into courtesy. There are in the cemetery of
P^re la Chaise numberless famous monuments, of generals,
statesmen, poets, orators, and men of letters, but none for
which the people ^eem to care as for this. If honors at his
tomb can make a man a hero, Abelard in his own land will
come next to Charlemagne and Napoleon. Even the ex-
esses of the first Revolution, which tore up and scattered the
acred relics of kings, and profaned the vaults of St. Denis,
spared the bones of the philosopher and scholar.

The popular association of the natne of Abelard h with
that of Heloise* When one of these is mentioned, the other
is instantly suggested. But, historically, Abelard's name has
other and larger associations, — mth that of Roscelin in the
first grand protest of reason against authority, the inaugura-
tion and prophecy of the triumph of science, — with that of
Bernard, in the battle of knowledge with creed, of ideas with
formulas, of the soul against the Church, — with that of
Arnold of Brescia in suffering for opinion's sake. His cor-
respondence with a nun, which was in his own day the
scandal of his life, now makes his chief renown ; but his
truest record is iu the reforms of these later ceuturies, of
which he was the pioneer. With Abelard modern rationalism
practically began. He first, in the darkn\?ss of the IMiddle
Age, spoke the word of promise for the days to come, proved
that all wisdom was not in the cloister, that inquiry had rights
which monkery might not silence, and ventured to criticise
established methods of thought and teaching. In modern
civilization the life of Abelard is one of the earliest and most
important factors, marking the first successes of mind ia I
breaking away from the trammels of ecclesiastical teaching, 1

136 ABBLASD. [JiUL

We cannot read it with the same feeling with which we leid
the lives of Catholic saints, or those of great men who wem
workers chiefly inward for their own time. It is to be inter-
preted by the progress of thonght and discovery in Eniope,
not merely in the schools of French philosophy, bat in all the
great movements for reform in Germany, Holland, and En^
land. His proper companions are not so mnoh DescarteSi
Voltaire, and D' Alembert, as Pascal, Grotins, Erasmus, BaooOy
and Wickliffe.

Abelard was bom at a time when the power of the CSatho*
lie Church seemed to have reached its height, and asmmed
its definite proportions. The captnre of Jemsalem by. the
Turks had put an end to all Christian possession theie, the
schism of the Greek Church had become irrevocably fixed,
and the successor of St Peter had exacted from all the mon-
archs of Western Europe the confession of his independent
rights. Scarcely a year had passed since Henry of Germany .
had waited with bare feet at the door of Gzegoiy's palaee, «
and had stooped to meaner humiliation than the legendary.
submission of Theodosius before Ambrose. William of Nor-
mandy, as a faithful vassal of the Pope, had just eoaqneied
England from its rebellious Saxon kings. Philip of France
was loyal, and agreed to all that EQldebrand would claim.
The tribute of " Peter's pence," which King Ina of Wessex
had some centuries before invented, had now become an in-
stitution ; and to fail in its payment was to fail in religioiis
duty and to risk terrible punishment The new College of
Cardinals was the body-guard and the instrument of ttoman
sovereignty, and the monastic institutions, set on the finest
sites of every land; were so many fortresses defending Oatho«
lie unity. To question the least practice of the Roman ritoal,
or the boldest form of Roman dogma, to allegorize or spirit-
ualize any portion of the creed or worship, was a crime to be
watched, to be denounced, to be punished. In the year 1078
the heretic Berenger, who for more than thirty years had
fought against the literal doctrine of transubstantiation, sol-
emnly at Rome renounced his falsehood, and testified upon
oath, that the bread and wine, when the priest had sanctified
them by his prayer, became the actual body and blood of

1859.1

ABELARD*

137

Christ Wberi Abelard wag born, all teaching and all influ-
ence were in the hands of the Church.

Abelard was of noble parentage. His father, Count Beren*
ger, inherited a spacious domain in the region of the Loire,
and was owner of a conspicuous castle in what is now the
small village of Pallet, about fifteen mites southeast of Nantes.
In this castle (the site of which is still marked by an old
stone cross), in the year 1079, his eldest son, Peter, first saw
the light Though destined from birth to the profession of
arms, the child was not deprived of anything that could make
an accomplished scholar and gentleman. His father was, for
that age, a cultivated man, — unusually so for an inhabitant of
the rude and brutal province of Brittany/ But it soon became
evid^*nt that the small supply of knowledge which the neigh*
borhood, with its scanty manuscript treasures and its indifler-
ent teachers, could furnish, would not satisfy the marvellous
capacity and the boundless desire of the growing boy. Relin*
quishing speedily the thought of a military life, he set himself
to be a knight-errant of philosophy, and travelled over the
whole region, seeking scholastic adventures, disputing by the
wayside, holding controversy with learned wranglers, and ven*
turing upon all questions, however grave, subtile, or mystical.
He went to the schools of the dialectic masters only to hear,
to vanquish, and to forsake them. How far his travels ex-
tended, it is impossible to tell, or in what part of France it
was that he first met with the condemned heretic Roscelin,
the champion of the Nominalists. Certain it is, that before
the age of twenty he h^d heard this renowned master, had re-
futed his arguments, and had adopted many of his views. As
yet, his education had been provincial. He had not ventured
to the capital, and had only in his wanderings drilled bis wit
and his speech for the keener encounters of logic in the famous
school of Niltre Dame,

The rector of this school at that time — the close of the
eleventh century — was the Archdeacon William of Cham-
peaux, called, from his towering ability as a dialectician, the
<* Column of the Teachers." The fame of his instruction had

* ** Brifco dictoa est qiuui bnttns.*'

12 •

138 ABHLASD. pn

made Paris to the rest of Europe what Athens was to
in the age of Angnstas. Students firom Italy, Grennanyi <
England flocked to the cloisters of the island in the Seiaa^
and went back with large report of the wit and wisdom ia
those balls of logic. The master was gradons to his piipib»
and honored those who were quick and intelligent with speofad
notice and favor ; — though it was observed that his favor WM
not very lasting. No pupil was more prepossessing ibui
was Peter Berenger, then in the flower of his youth, eooMty
in countenance, eloquent in address, instant in apprehenaioBt
of surprising memory, and of a wisdom strangely preoodoia.
He might long have remained the favorite, had he been oca-
tent to listen, and not dared to dispute. But Peter was never
a docile pupil; — the weapons of argument against whioh
fellow-pupils could bring no match were speedily tamed upon
the teacher himself, and the favor of the Aidideacon WM
changed to indignation. The evident and perfect viofaxy,
however, was not at once on the side of the young opetart
He was an adept in the ways of the IHtniiMi, but in the
Quadrivium^ he was as yet untaught ; and ignorance of these
branches exposed him often to mortification. For a ^ile be
endeavored by a course of private lessons with an obaeoie
teacher to make up for this lack ; but his mind was already too
full, and his tastes were too far decided ; and the chief resolt
of his lessons in the Quadriviunij which he vainly endeavoied
to conceal, was the surname by which he was ev^ after
known, f

Abelard could not long remain in the position of a learner.
Two years have hardly passed before we find him at the head
of a rival school at Melun, a royal residence, some five and
twenty miles from Paris ; and not much later, at Coibeili still
— — ' ■ .■■-,■

* The scientific diYuion of the Middle Age separated studiee into As THmni,
comprehending rhetoric, grammar, and dialectics, and the Quadnviumf oompnlMid-
ing arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and mnsic.

t The popniar notion of Abclard's snmame deriTOS it from ths Vnadi mud
abeiUef the application of which to him seemed as fit as the applioatkm of the hdm
epithet to the great Athenian. Its tme origin was in the jest of his teadwr, vfao lold
him one day, to cheer his despondency, that a great scholar like hiinself« like s fbU
dog, conld do nothing but bajare lardum, ** lick np the fat,** which was taken op ■• a
nickname by his fellow-stndcnts, and comipted finally into " Abehudof.*

1859.] ABELARD. 139

farther down the Seine, and within comfortable walking-dis-
tance of the episcopal house at N8tre Dame. Party jeal-
ousies among the students of Paris aided his success. The
Archdeacon began to tremble at the rising fame of this bril-
liant and intrepid rival, and was relieved only by learning
that the physical powers of the young teacher were not equal
to his excessive labors, and that ill-health had forced him to
suspend hostilities.

After a few years spent in various study and travel, Abe-
lard came back to Paris and enrolled himself once more with
the students of his former master, who now enlivened the soli-
tude of a monastic life by classes in rhetoric and philosophy.
The pupil was no longer a presumptuous youth, but a man
of mature years, noted, skilful, and formidable, to whom even
a prelate of the Church might fitly defer. A discussion soon
arose upon the question of Nominalism and Realism, which
the condemnation of Roscelin had made the great question
of science. William of Champeaux was a Realist, thorough
and zealous. He maintained most sturdily that ideas are
essences ; that names are things ; that man is as much a re-
ality as individual men are realities ; that universals as truly
as particulars are positive existences. He believed that there
are no such things as abstract conceptions. The essence of
the whole enters into every part The ideal sheep or horse is
to be found in every individual of the species, yet has an in-
dependent life of its own. This view, Abelard as a Nominalist
delighted to refute and to ridicule. " If the race," said he, " is
the essence of the individual, if man 19 an essence entire in every
man, and individuality is only an accident, it follows that this
essence is at the same time entire in every man at once ; that
when Plato is at Rome, and Socrates at Athens, it is all with
Plato at Rome, and ail at Athens with Socrates. In like
manner, the universal man, being the essence of the individ-
ual, is the individual himself, and carries with him everywhere
the individual ; so that when Plato is at Rome, Socrates is
there also, and when Socrates is at Athens, Plato is with him
and in him." Reasoning like this soon silenced the Realist,
and destroyed his influence with his pupils. To be vanquished
in this argument was to lose the prestige of dialectic skill. The

140 ABSLASD. [JEUI4

humiliation of William was complete, when he saw his livaL
established as a teacher in the very city of Paris, on the Hicnuit
St. Genevidve, in the very doistere of the patron saint of the
city, looking down from this height upon the inferior school of
Ndtre Dame on the island, and defying his impotent threats
and slanders.

The position of Abelard in this new school was splendid
enough to satisfy even his boundless ambition. The idol of
a crowd of pupils who thronged to his lessons from every part
of the land, — the wonder of those who had exhausted the
wisdom of other teachers, — invincible in argument, invnlner*
able to the attacks of the most cunning sophists, day by day
he rose in fame, in pride, and in consciousness of power. One
by one, his enemies ceased to make their cavils heard "Wit
liam of Champeaux went off to bury his shame in the cares of
a distant bishopric. If filial duty called Abelard away for a
season, to dismiss his parents to the convent life, which they
had both embraced, he could find on his return that no one
remained to dispute his supremacy. ' In the year HIS,* at the
age of thirty-four, he was acknowledged the intellectual mler'
of Paris, and virtually of Europe, — the highest authority in all
the popular branches of human science, a <^ dictator in the
republic of letters."

The praise which his contemporaries lavished upon his uni*
versal knowledge was not quite deserved. Though he had read
extensively in ancient authors, and knew something of almost
every subject, be did not <^know all which any one could
know," as his epitaph reads, f For the science of mathemat-
ics he had no fancy or aptitude, and was never quick at fig^
ures. Of law, he had but limited knowledge ; for in his time
it was not much studied. The great school of Bologna did
not exist He was master of no ancient tongue but the Ijatin ;
the Greek, of which there were at this time but few students,
was known to him only by a few philosophical terms, and all
its authors he read in translations ; while in Hebrew he had

* In the same year, the young monk Bernard was planting at Clairraox Ui
famous convent

t " Ille scicns qnicqoid fuit nlU scibile. Non homini, sed identte deeat qsod
nescirit/*

ABELARB.

no instruction. Yet his philosophical knowledge seems to
justify the most extravagant praise. It comprehended all
writers, from the pupils of Socrates down to the latest of the
Church Fathers, His brilliant teaching showed as much the
fruits of extensive study as the keenness of a sharp logical
insight. Citations from classic and Christian authors, from
Cicero and Priscian, from Porphyry and St Augustine, lent
grace and strength to his clear propositions. Nor were playfol
Witticisms excluded. In his frequent literary digressions, which
relieved the dryness of abstract reasoning, he did not disdain
to own the charm of heathen poetry. The verses of Virgil
and Horace, Ovid and Lucan, were woven like golden threads
into his ingenious pleadings, and he even noted passages
from them as " authority."

Philosophy was the department of teaching for which Abe-
lard had the most remarkable genius, and in tliis he is claimed
as the inventor of the theory of Conceptnalism* which is a sort
of compromise between the Nominalists and the Realists, an
application of the idealism of Plato to the dialectics of Aristotle.
Abelard eulogized the Academic philosopher, while he closely
followed the Stagirite* All the Church Fathers borrowed Aris-
totle's method, but Abelard was his chief interpreter to the
mind of Europe.

As yet, Abelard had not ventured upon the ground of the-
ology, the province of monks and priests, to whose life he had
no inclination. It remained the only field in which he had
not conquered. At this time the leading teacher in theology
in France was Anselm of Laon, a namesake and a former
pupil of the great Archbishop of Canterbury. For a while,
he had taught in Paris, but for some years had lived iu retire*
mcnt at Laon, where the magnificent Cathedra! still keeps his
memory as one of the fathers of Gothic architecture. Crowds
of students came from all parts of Europe to hear his com-
mentaries on the Scriptures, and to be charmed by his seduc«
tive eloquence. Among the rest Abelard resorted to him, but

^ The fbn&ola ofthifl theory U "that luitversal ideas are the expression of con-
cepiiont fatifided on real fucts.'* It is singuliu' lliat lhi« word conceptuaJhm was
ttied ia hbtone« of philo^opb^ which were written before the manQScript fragments
of Abelard which explain tlie s^ystcm had been brotigbt to %bt.

142 ABXLABD. [Swai

soon discovered that his showy rhetoric had no depth or fovoei
^' Fine foliage in the distance, but near at hand nothing bat «
barren fig-tree. When he kindled his fire, he made amoke
enough, but brought out no lighf

<< I could not long,*^ says Abelard, ^ waste my time in tiw
shadow of such a man." And very soon he made it known
that he stood ready, without a teacher, to expound paasagea
of Scripture harder than any that Anslem attempted. • Tbe
incredulous scorn which greeted his proposals was changed to
admiring enthusiasm at his signal success. In a single mghti
he had mastered the profoundest secrets of Ezekiel's pcofriieqyj
and had proved that insight, rather than theologio lofe, is need-
ed to understand the Divine Word. E&s notes were recorded
as they fell firom his lips. The students of Ansehoi transfiened
their attachment firom the old priest to the young philosopheTi
and Pompey could only rail with desperate wmth against tbe '
Ceesar who had spoiled him of his honors. When Abdaid'
returned to Paris, he carried with him a theological fame which
before him only years of cloistral study had been able to earn,
and seemed to have compassed the circle of the sdenoes. He
came back the recognized head of all the schools of FttriSi fit
to teach in any, — to receive, though not a priest, the oflSoe of
" canon " of the city.*

M. R6musat gives a glowing description of the Citi of
Paris at this culminating period of Abelard's glory. The
island in the Seine was at that time the centre of religioni
justice, authority, and letters to all the city. Around the
cathedral were fifteen churches, besides convents, palaces, and
royal gardens, crowding all the narrow space with sacred and
splendid associations.

^ There, under the shadow of those churches and the cathedral, in
solemn cloisters, in vast halls, or on the turf of the court-yards, walked
to and fro the sacred band, who seemed to live only for science and
&ith, yet were animated equally by the love of argument and of in-
fluence. Along with these priests, and under their sometimes jealoos,
but often impotent oversight, went the turbulent crowd of students d

* Some writers deny that he was made canon of Paris tiios eariy. Othm ia»
sist that ho was canon of Sens and not of Paris.

1859.] ABBLARD. 143

all ranks, of all callings, of all races, of all countries, whom, for studies
sacred or profane, the European renown of the school of Paris had
called together. In this school, and in the midst of this attentive and
obedient nation, was often to be seen a man of broad forehead, quick,
proud glance, and noble bearing, whose beauty still kept the bloom of
youth, while it bore the darker hues and the more decided lines of
mature manhood. His sober yet carefully ordered costume, the se-
vere elegance of his whole exterior, the simple dignity of his address,
by turns affable and lofty, an imposing and graceful manner, marked by
that indolent ease which follows the confidence of success and the habit
of command, the deference of his attendants, haughty to all except to
him, the curious eagerness of the crowd, who made way as he walked
along to his lessons or returned to his dwelling, followed by disciples
still excited by his eloquence, — all gave sign of a master, most mighty
in the school, most famous in the world, most popular in the Citd. Ev-
erywhere they talked of him. From the remotest regions, from Brit-
tany, from England, from the lands of the Suevi and the Teutons, they
flocked to hear him. Even Rome sent scholars to him. The throngs
of the street, anxious to look at him, stopped while he passed ; the peo-
ple in their houses came down to the threshold of the doorway, and
women drew back the curtain from the little panes of their narrow
window. Paris had adopted him as her child, her ornament, and her
light ; and now made universal boast of that name, which, afler seven
centuries, the city which nas boasted so much, and forgotten so much,
still keeps in her public remembrance." — Vol. I. p. 43.

It was indeed a proud eminence to occupy ; the prouder,
from the reflection that all this greatness he himself had
achieved. He had no one on earth to envy. Riches flowed
in upon him from the five thousand students, whom it is not
probable that he taught gratuitously.* He looked around, and
there was no one in the world but himself who seemed wor-
thy the name of " philosopher." f 1 e had no fear of foes,
whether in the halls of knowledge br in the conclaves of the
Church. He seemed to have reached a place so high, so
strong, so inaccessible to other men, that nothing but his
own will could overthrow him. But there was one fatal
force with which he had not yet been called to strive. The

* This seemingly fabulous number of Abelard's pupils is attested by numerous
and trustworthy witnesses, foes not less than friends.
t " Cum jam me solum in mundo snperesse philosopbum aestimarem." — Epist. L

144 ASBLASD. [hmi

passion which Bernard was in youth so caiefol to i
conquered the gpreat teacha in the maturity of his jmxm
When Abelard stooped to love, he ceased to rule.

That the life of Abelard, up to the period of his acqnaintr
ance with Heloise, had been that of an ascetic, it is not aa&
to affirm. For the irregular pleasures of worldly scholars be
had always professed a proud disdain ; yet there is reason to
suppose, from a friend's letter to him still extant, that in him
dealings with the other sex he had not been a model of ans-
tere purity.* No scandal, however, had attached to his name*
Although he was a canon of the Church, he had not received
priest's orders, and some degree of license might have been
overlooked, and pardoned. But now he was to app^ in a
new character, which at once mortified, saddened, and alaimed
the friends who idolized him. *

In a house on the northeast comer of the isle of the dtiCi
portions of which are still remaining, lived at this time an old
canon, Fulbert by name, whose chief pride and joy waa flie
beautiful niece who dwelt with him, and whose education he
had cared for so far, that she had become a prodigy of learn-
ing in the sciences and the tongues, ^ famous through all ftf
kingdom." To the honor of her noble birth were added the
charms of a graceful form and a sweet disposition. Laigie
deduction may be made from Abelard's encomiums, and yet
enough will be left to prove the rare fascination of one who
could captivate the master of sciences. Her youth (for at tfae»
time when Abelard's acquaintance with her began she waa
not more than fifteen or sixteen years of age) only increased
the marvel of her accomplishments. Abelard resolved to win
to himself such a prize. The way was not difficult ; foa tiie
vanity of Fulbert grasped eagerly at the privilege of such in-
struction for his favorite, and the philosopher found a home
in the old canon's house, with the liberty of unrestricted asso-
ciation and unreserved authority, as reg^urded liis lovely pnpiL
There was no suspicion, and no watch of their movements.

* A couplet in one of his poems runs : •

" Gratior est homilis meretrix qaam cMta saperbs,
PertutMLlqae domain sKpiot itts raom."

ABBtAKB.

The conseqaence was natural and inevitable. Their studies
were shared, they read together, they sang together, their
hearts met with their eyes, and soon all bounds of love were
passed, and duty and honor were lost in the delirium of pas-
sion. There was no attempt on the part of Abelard to con-
ceal his sentiment. His lessons in the school grew careless,
his expositions were taifte and mechanical, and love-songs
were the productions which amazed his scholars. He became
" the first of the Trouv^res." After a while, reports created
suspicions, and the lovers were parted. But they continaed
to hold stolen interviews, and felt it a hind of duty to main-
tain their thwarted passion*

We need not dwell upon the subsequent steps of the catas*
trophe ; — how Heloise, carried off to the early home of her
lover, there became mother of his son ; how she argued and
expostulated to prevent the marriage which remorse and affec-
tion made him urge, but which she knew would blight his
prospects and defeat kis ambition; how reluctantly she con-
sented to the " sacrifice *' which restored her own honor, and
sought to keep secret in the seclusion of a convent that which
another woman would have hastened to make public ; how
the jealous Fulbert at last found opportunity for satisfying
his vengeance ; the shame and doubt and despair which over-
whelmed Abelard ; the solemn grief of Heloise, as she took,
in the convent of Argenteuil (the place of her early education),
the black habit of a nun, pronouncing that plaint with which,
in the Pharsalia, Cornelia greets Pompey on his return from
Pharsalia/ These rapid changes are as a short and troubled
dream f from which one awakes to terrible reality* This brief
year of passion divides the life of Abelard. The years before
were mainly years of triumph and hope, of rising fame and
growing ambition. The years that follow are mainly years of
trial and pain, in which victories only flash out from the pre-
vailing darkness. Before was the steady summer effulgence ;

VOL.

♦ " 0 fDAxime conjax,
O tlmlamis lodigne me^m, hoc Juria hobebnt
In taDtum Foittma caput I Cur impiii nupsi^
Si tnisertim factum fui 1 Nunc acclpe pcenas,
'Sed quas sponte luam.^'
LXXXVUI. NO. 182. 13

146 ABELARD. [Jan.

now is the lowering autumn, when the brightest days are
clouded and sad. When Abelard ceased to love, the clioiax
of his life was passed.

The place of retreat w^hich Abelard chose was the great
abbey of St. Denis, the most important convent in the
kingdom. Here, when the first flush of shame and the first
deep broodings of vengeance were gone, he hoped to give
himself to the silence and meditation of a true monastic life.
But his own nature was too restless for such a seclasion.
Scandalized by the profane excesses of the holy abbot and
his brethren, he complained so boldly, that those who had
received him as a guest of honor in their house now found
him a nuisance whose presence burdened their hospitality.
To the pressing instances of his former disciples was soon
added the disinterested urgency of his convent friendsi who
thought it shameful that so much learning and ability should
be wasted in the exercises of the cloister. After a year at
St. Denis, we find him again at the head of a school, in the
priory of MaisonccUe, in Champagne, with a crowd of stu-
dents around him hardly less than in his day of glory. Paris
came out to listen to him in his solitude. The other schools
began at once to decline, and the poor monk could know, that,
though the world had heard of his disgrace, it had not for-
gotten his genius. His new teachings were more in theology
than in dialectics, his reasonings gathered themselves 'around
\hv substance of religious doctrine, and men could say, with-
emphasis, that the Church had again its Origcn.

The new position was a dangerous one ; and the moral
))o\ver of Abelard to sfustain himself was not what it had for-
merly been. He was no longer a master, who could despise
his enemies, but a simple private teacher, whose act, more-
over, in establishing a school without authority, was illegal
by the canon law. A fierce storm rose around him. He was
accused of arrogance, of heresy, of blasphemy, of profaning
the truth of God by worldly science, and of setting philosophy
above faith. It was affirmed that he gave to Grecian sages
vi\\ia\ honor with Christian saints, admitted salvation for
heathen philosophers, even questioned the mystery of the
Trinity, and reasoned into abstract attributes the high persons

1859.]

ABBtAnD.

of the Godhead. The arm uf the Chorch was bidden to
crush this disciple of Plato, who taught another Gospel than
that of the Fathers,

At first Abelard despised the clamor, and flung back the
charges with vigorous sarcasms. He instanced the old fable
of the fox and the grapes in reply to their abuse of his pro-
fane philosophy^ challenged thera to argue with him on the
doctrines of faith, and plied thera with reasons for what they
called his heresies. But it soon appeared that he must apol-
ogize for, rather than defend, bis views, and must do this be-
fore a tribunal new to him, and fatal to heretics from Ariua
downward, — a St/nod of the Church. At Soissons,* noted
already in the previous generation for the condemnation of
Roscelin, he was called to stand before an imposing Coun-
cil, gathered from the magnates of the French Church, and
presided over by a papal legate, the Bishop Conon, a skilful
hunter of heretic?. In this city and before this assembly
Abelard stood almost alone, conscious that the prejudices and
passions of all around were combined to destroy him. The
first charge against him was, that he "denied the Trinity."
He refuted this by proving from his writings that he had
advocated the doctrine and sustained it by large use of the
Fathers, of Origen^ of Augustine, even of Athanasius, and
by actual words of the Holy Scripture. They then reproached
him that be had reasoned at all about the inefikble mystery;
but he turned upon them with such a flood of ingenious elo-
quence, that many were captivated and some were converted.
The majority of voices, nevertheless, condemned him, and at
the closing session of the Council the solemn farce was or-
dered that he should burn his books and retract his errors.
The Inquisition had not yet begun to burn the bodies of here-
tics. The scene as it is described has ludicrous features.

" While Abelard sadly looked upon lits burning roll, the silence of
the judges wag fudilenly broken, and one of the most hostile said, in aa
undertone, that he had somewhere read ihat God the Father alon^
wms omnipotenL Amazed, the legate rejoined, *I cannot beliere it.
Every child know^ that the universal faith of the Church declares that

* The populace af SoIssodb were extremely fknaticft]. A few years before, they
hod burned a Iban who wa» only suspected of Maoicheisnu ,

148 ABELARD. [JOO.

there are three omnipotent beings.' On this, a scholaatie teacher,
Thieny by name, laughed, and repeated in a load whisper the worda of
the Athanasian Creed, * And jet there are not three omnipotent beings,
but odIj one.' Reproached for this untimely and irreverent remark, he
boldly paraphrased the words of Daniel in the Apociyphal story: 'Thna,
foolish sons of Israel, without examination or knowledge of the trotli,
ye have condemned one of your own brethren. Betum i^in to the
place of judgment and condemn the judge, whose own mouth has con*
demned him.' Then the Archbishop, rising, justified, as well as he
could, in other language, the legate's idea, and endeavored to show, thal^
as the Father, Son, and Spirit were all omnipotent, whoever departed
from this position ought not to be listened to. But if * the brdher* ad'
mitted thisy he might explain his faith in their presence, so that it could
be finally pronounced what portion was true and what portion ftlae.
At this apparent change of afiairs Abelard took hope and courage. He
thought of St. Paul before the Areopagus and the Jewish G)anciL If
he could only speak, all might be saved. His enemies saw his plan,
promptly parried it, cried out that all that he needed to do was to re-
cite the Athanasian Creed, and, to forestall his plea that he did not
know it by heart, thrust a copy of it before his eyes. His head sank,
he sighed, and in broken accents read what he could." — YoL L p. 98.

Condemned to imprisonment as a heretic, Abelard waa
sent first to the sacred convent of St. Medard, one of the
richest, most orderly, and most respected of the French !€•
ligious foundations.* His short residence here was embittered
by thoughts of the depth of-his downfall, and by the disputes
which he was compelled to hold with a former vanquished
rival in the school of Paris, who now, as Prior of the Con-
vent, undertook to " tame down the rhinoceros " ; using
sometimes the argument of logic, and sometimes that of the
scourge, to which the helpless prisoner was forced to submit.
Public clamor, which did not justify the sentence of the Coun-
cil, soon released Abelard from his imprisonment at St Me-
dard, and brought him back to St. Denis, to quarrel again
with the monks about questions of scholarship and practices
of morality. His gravest sin was in affirming, on the aa-
thority of the venerable Bede, that Dionysius the Aieopagite,

* This coDTCDt was remarkable as the burial-place of sereral of the old Gallie
kings. The crrpt still remains, bat abore it has been bailt a Imrae aiyliim for the
deaf and damb, a conspicaoos object on the bank of the riTer Aisne.

ABKLARD.

149

their cherished St Denial was bishop of Corinth, and not of
Athens/

He wae now ?iUowed to try the experiment of a hermit life*
which he had before vainly longed for. On the borders of
a tributary of the Seine, about ninety miles from Paris^ in a
wild region, fertile, but unfrequented, the counterpart to the
valley of Clairvaux, he chose his place of retreat, built a little
hut of straw and reeds, and dedicated it to the Trinity, hoping
to pass the rest of his troubled life fax from the haunts of men.f
If thbs were his real hope, it was doomed to «wift disappoint-
ment. The people could not so readily forget their hero. His
cell was soon discovered, and surrounded by huts of innumer-
able scholars, some even pitching tents that they might follow
him more easily if he should attempt to change his retreat,
and all content to lie on the bare ground and live on the
rudest fare, if they might so listen to the unsurpassed teach-
er. This turn in his fortune did not much distress the recluse,
but rather revived his old proud joy. It was St. Jerome's life
renewed, — priests and scholars coming to learn of the poor
hermit and to hear his mandates. His frail oratory soon be*
came a substantial structure of wood and stone, built, fur-
nished, and adorned by the bands of disciples. The name by
which this oratory is known in history (and few of its kind
have been more widely known) is that of Paraclete, or Com-
forter; for here the sufferer had been consoled in his sorrows,
and had learned how reason may conquer the trials of body
and mind, and wisdom be justified in her children. To at-
test his orthodoxy, he caused to be set up on the altar of the
oratory a symbolic group, representing the Trinity, — three
figures carved from a single block of stone, each with its
appropriate costume and inscription* This remarkable group
remained entire for nearly seven hundred years, and was de-
stroyed only in the excesses of the first French Revolution. J

• The honor of St, Dcni* of Atheni is now shared by a new Sl DenU, the
Archbishop of Parii, who foil in ihe insnrrcction of 1848. Their fibres are set
oppo^Ue to each other on the painted windows of the church of St. Boch.

t Petrarch, in his e«say on ** A Life of Solitude," cites Abchird as the xnoii
illnstrious modern m«tance.

I The group was composed of three fignre* set back to back, the Father in the

13'

150 ABELARD. [Jan.

The retreat of the Paraclete recalled now the monasteries
of the Thebaid, with this difference, that study rather than
prayer was its ruling purpose. The discipline was novel, as
the rules were few, quite unlike both discipline and rules in
the convent of Bernard. The hardest penalty for irregular
conduct was to be deprived of the master's lessons, and some
curious instances are told of the pain which this privation
caused. Abelard was a lenient censor, and more ready to for-
give practical sins than to pass by intellectual errors. Men
went to Clairvaux to learn obedience and to practise self-
denial. They went to Paraclete to learn philosophy, and the
principle of spiritual triumph over fleshly appetite. Truth
was more than discipline here, study more than penance and
fasting, the class more than the cell. Bernard taught his dis-
ciples how to conform, Abelard taught his disciples how to
inquire ; the one guided them backward through practice into
faith, the other forward through faith into practice. The fame
of this new kind of convent was noised abroad, and came to
the ears of that man who now had reached the foremost posi-
tion in the Church, and was by common consent set as dic-
tator of doctrine and duty to all the faithful. Paraclete and
Clairvaux were not very far apart, scarcely fifty miles, and
their dilfering systems soon brought their difiering leaders into
strong antagonism. Abelard had been in strife with many
famous doctors, but never yet had been matched with such a
giant as the monk Bernard.

The famous champion of the established faith and order
was still young in years ; but his crowded labors, restless
zeal, and signal austerities, had given him the renown of a

mi! r.e. tIo:hed in a lon^ po^m, a stole hancin^ from hi< neck, crossed apon his
brta-:. and fastened to hU ;:irdle, a mantle npoii his shoolders. which reached to
ca:'. of :h: others, from the clasp of which hung a plded band, on which were the
words. '• Fi'.ius mens es m." On the ri^ht of the Father, the Son, in a similar
roVo. bat ^iihoat a girdle, held in his hands a cross resting on his breast, and on the
lef: a '■ ar.! w-'Ji the words, "Pater mens es tu." The figure of the Holy Spirit had
the ha:: is . .-osscd ujron the breast, and lore the le^nd. " Ejo ntriusqae spirmcalam.''
All ^:rc crowr.s. :/.e llolj Spirit a crown of olive, the Son a crown of thorns, and
:h: KAihc: a solid ■rowr.. In the Father's hand was the globe, thesi^ of sapreme
;• . -^ or He alor.o had covered f;;e:. The desi^ of the ^roap was sapehor to the
n:vv;hazi:a'. execution

1859.1

151

"father'' in the Church. No heresy could escape his sleep-
less searching. The epithet " Watch-dog of the Faith '^ he
deserved and justified, Long before he had met Abelard in
person, he had resolved to silence this daring thinker. He
had waited only to gain a firm authority, that the warfare
which should be ventured against the master of all knowledge
might not fail of success, Abelard^ too, had cherished a
secret fear of one who seemed to be helped in his undertake
ings by superhuman power. To the exciting desire of con-
flict with such an enemy was opposed a troublesome doubt
of its issue. What if Hector, defiant of ail other foes and
rivals, should be the victim of this invulnerable Achilles?
Reports from time to time came of an impending blow, which
this terrible scourger of heretics was preparing for him. His
suspicions fastened to every provincial synod of the region
some plot for his destruction. The suspense became intoler-
able to him ; his lessons lost their interest ; it seemed as if all
the forces of the world and the Church were in league against
him. He began to meditate how he should escape altogether
from Catholic lands, and go to live among the heathen as a
missionary of Christ There, if he might not find charity, he
might at least live unknown and be forgotten. A fortunate
chance seemed for the time to relieve his anxiety, and to
postpone the conflict which he dreaded. He knew the monk
of Clairvaux too well to believe that his suspicion, once awa-
kened, could be lulled. But he hoped by change of scene and
work to avert the danger.

On a desolate clifl'of the bay of Morbihan,* in the province
of Lower Brittany, are still to be seen the ruins of the abbey
of St Gildas de Ruys, In the year 1125, this convent was
already of high antiquity, and had among the foundations of
France an honorable rank. To be the head of such a house,
and successor of such a line of priors, reaching back over six
centuries of history, was a distinction which even Abelard
might covet This position was offered to him. He was too
glad of an asylum to hesitate long. Discharged by the con-

<^ Thij, one of ibe least frequented locolitieB of France, h remarkable for the
namber and interest of iu historical motiuments. The Celtic atones of Caniac are
the moist wonderfal of all eaistiog Drutdicoi remains.

152 ABELABD. [JeD.

vent of St. Denis, he entered with zeal npou his new datie8|
which were not likely to be either pleasant or easy. The
customs of the monks were not congenial to the tastes of a
scholar, nor were their morals tolerable to his aastere deconmu
Their language was barbarous, their behavior wild and reck-
less, and they were impatient of all restraint Oppressed by
the exactions of a feudal robber lord who dwelt in the neigli-
borhood, they consoled themselves for paying one half of their
revenue in tribute, by spending the other half in debancheiy.
Abelard soon found that his scholastic lore was worth nothiiig
in the management of such a gross and unlettered company.
His teachings they would not hear, his discipline they d^
spised. Without the walls was danger, within was discour-
agement Melancholy now took the place of his fbimer
anxiety. The influences of nature in that lonely region
helped to make him sad and thoughtful. He felt piofoondly
that sense of desolation which Chateaubriand has described
in his romantic memoirs. His days were spent in brooding
reverie, in sorrowful review of his past misfortunes, in froit*
less repining over his enrors. The elegiac verses which record
these sorrows of his heart are not the least unworthy monu-
ment of his fame.

While he was abandoning himself to this luxury of grief,
listening to the monotonous plash of waves upon the rooks,
which he translated into upbraidings of Heaven upon bis folly,
vexing himself with fruitless remorse that he had left Ftoi-
clete for this dismal exile, he was again restored to better
duties and a happier experience, and enabled to do tardy
justice to one whom he knew that he had wronged. Heloiae
had now become a recluse, eminent for wisdom, purity, and
sanctity. A reform in the nunneries of France bad driven
her, with her companions, from their home at ArgenteuiL*
Abelard took the opportunity of making over to her his prop-
erty at Paraclete, the oratory, the woods, the neighboring
hamlet, and the fruit-bearing orchards. The gift was solemnly
ratified by the Pope, and in the year 1126 Heloise became the

* Tho nnns of Aipintenil were not all like their abbess, and her experienoe then
bore some resemblance to that of Abelard at St Gild as.

185ft]

ABELARB.

Id3

first abbess in that long line of noble ladles, the last of whom
died within the memory of living men.

The correspondence between Abelard and Heloise, long in-
terrupted, was now resumed. Few literary remains of the
Middle Age are more curious tlian these remarkable letters.
They are still models of a chaste^ ardent, and dignified episto-
lary style. There are in them at once a warmth and a reserve
which show enduring attachment tempered by profound re-
morse. They are the letters of a spiritual adviser and a
trustful pupil; of high religious friendship, and yet, at least
on the side of Heloise, having the glow of a deep tender-
ness. They are the letters of love regenerated, of love sub-
limed by sorrow. Great as is the variety of topics, yet their
highest interest is in the personalities of the writers. If
Heloise asks the wise Abbot to advise her on some point of
convent management, it is yet clear that she cares more for
him who answers than for the answer which he gives. If
Abelard rehearses some passage of his former fortunes, it is
evident that he loves best to remember the season when
Heloise was his pupil. He rejoices to come down from the
dignified position of spiritual guide, to praise the grace and
virtue of this pure servant of God. She is an exception to
all women. She has changed the curse of Eve to the bless-
ing of Mary. Her name,* unconsciously borrowed from the
" Elohim," is prophetic of her divine loveliness. For him
is justly the cross, but for her as fitly the crown. Even in
forbidding her to write to him as belonging lo him, Abelard
loves to write of her while he writes to her.

We must not suppose, however, that the more modern ver-
sions of the letters of Abelard and Heloise are a fair represen-
tation of the tone of their language and sentiment. Neither
the light brilliancy of Bussy Rabutin, nor the sentimental
verse of Colardean,! nor the stately and polished rhythm of
Pope, gives an adequate idea of the simple elegance of these

• The name Heloise is tenlly the same ta Louisa.

t Colardcoo was one of the rao«t brillmnt and versatile vritcre of the las^i century,
— a poet of extraordinaiy wic, and singntar fuculty of imitation. He reprodaced
in Franc© the rtjle o( Tasao, of Pope, and of Young, with equal facility. He died
in 1776.

154 ABELABD. [Jon.

Latin epistles of the twelfth centnry. The legendary hiBtoiy
of the affection of these lovers has added to their coirespond-
ence many things which were never written, and changed
many common expressions into the langaage of passion.
A comparison of manascripts existing in the libraries of
France and Italy with the cheap translations sold on the
quays of Paris, shows that the story of Abelard and Heloise
has fared in its passage through the ages like the stories of
wonder-working saints. The sentimental chapter of Chateau-
briand is hardly justified by what these lovers reaUy wrote.*

With the renewal of their correspondence their acqaaint-
ance was renewed. Abelard became the visitor of the con-
vent at Paraclete, and its spiritual director. It was a delight-
ful relief from the harsh associations and duties of bis own
abbey to witness the pious austerities, the exemplary labon
and prayers, of these holy sisters. It was cheering to see
how earnest they were in imitation of her who walked before
them an example of every Christian grace. To the nuns
Abelard seemed a father in God. They waited reverently
for his word ; they used the liturgy which he wrote for them ;
and his ingenious discourse about some theological qnestton
often charmed their hours away. Daily, as his interest in
the new religious house increased, the contrast of his own
rude and riotous home became more repulsive. His efforts
for reform were met with plots against his life, and more than
once he narrowly escaped death by poison. Even the last
resort of excommunication did not secure him, and his own
brethriMi were ready to violate their solemn oath, if they
might so rid themselves of his presence. Before he obtained
a final release from his monastic duties, he had become an
exile from his convent, and a guest in the house of a lord of
the country. Here he composed that history of his misfoi^
tunes (Historia Calamitatum)^ which, midway in time be-
tween the Confessions of Augustine and of Rousseau, unites
the mystic piety of the one to the morbid philosophy of the
other. It is a tale of weaknesses, sufferings, and sins, — an
outpouring of sentimental miseries.

* Genie da Christianisme, Part II. Buok III. Chmp. V.

1859,]

ABELARD,

166

A short season of quiet, though not of idleness, followed
Abelard^s release from the convent of St. Gildaa. He tasted
now the joys of friendship, and was comforted in finding that
not all the noble were ungrateful, or unmindful of genius.
One book after another came from his busy pen, and his sys-
tems of theology and philosophy, reviewed with care, took
their final shape and fashion. He seemed to be happy, and
could hope that his enemies had ceased to watch for his frail*
ties and heresies. But the old ambition of the scholar was
only smothered, not quenched. It was easy to persuade him
to venture again into the arena of letters, and renew the glory
of his youth. In the year 1136, at the age of fifty-seven, he
astonished the world by opening his school on Mount St.
Genevieve, the scene of bis earliest triumph. The surprise
was followed by a success as sudden. Students flocked from
all directions to bear the gray-haired sage whose fame their
fathers had rehearsed. A new generation came to listen to
the Nestor of philosophy. An English prelate* has told of the
enthusiasm with which he assisted in these lessons of the
" Peripatetic Paladin,'* as he calls Abelard.

More than eleven years had now passed since first Abelard
began to tremble beneath that terrible eye which seemed to
be fastened upon him from out the gloom of the ancient
Church. For a time he had seemed to escape it; but he was
soon made conscious that it was still upon him. In this in-
terval, he had once met with Bernard, ou the occasion of a
proselyting jom-ney of the Pope through France. The confi-
dent bearing of Abelard at that time, and his apparent indif-
ference to the person of the Father of Christendom, left an
unfavorable impression upon the suspicious guardian of the
honor of St Peter. At a subsequent visit to Paraclrte, Ber-
nard had noticed a change in the words of the Lord's Prayer,
which he learned with indignation had been suggested by
Abelard, His feeling, openly expressed, was of course not
long in reaching the ears of the friend of Heloise, and a quar-
rel arose, in which sarcasm only provoked zeal to bitterness.
Bernard had the advantage of position, and had also the ad-

♦ John of Salisbury, nfterwards Bbliop of Chartrc«, himself a ** peripatetic *'
ichoiar.

156 ABELABD. [J\

vantage in temper and canning. He was willing to relent and
be reconciled, if Abelard would yield all the points of his her-
esy. In this, as in every similar difficulty, the conservative
could be satisfied only by the reformer's thorough submission ;
the concessions must be all on one side. Abelard was ready
to meet his adversary half-way, but found soon that Bernard
was not a man to make or accept compromises. Their war&re
in a little time became a warfare of parties, a public conoem.
A throng of followers applauded the eloquent invectives of the
monk of Clairvaux, denouncing the vengeance of Heaven on
the perfidious dogmatizer. A strong band of Mends oonU
sympathize with the contempt which the fearless teacher ex-
pressed for one who was a foe to freedom. On one side were
piety and numbers, on the other genius and enthusiasm. A
crowded majority cheered on Bernard to crush the heretic who
dared to neglect and improve upon " the Fathers ^ ; a noUe
minority stood ready to help Abelard in his defence of philo^
ophy, in his apology for liberty. But the contest was nn-
equah and Abelard soon saw that the best ailment was no
match for adroit management, backed by reUgious bigotiy.
Four centuries yet must pass before reason could justify itsdf
in the ways of the world against authority. He had no altei^
native but to dare his enemy to a public trial.

1'he reigning king of France at this time, Louis VIL, a de-
vout lover of religious spectacles, had decreed for the octave of
Pentecost in the year 1140 a special season for the adoration of
the numerous and precious relics in the metropolitan church
at Sens, a city some fifteen leagues south of Paris. This ci^,
the Canterbury of France, and destined a few years later to
be associated more nearly with the Canterbury of England,
through the fame of Thomas a Becket, which each still contin-
ues to claim,* and this occasion, which the presence of royalty,
of so many nobles of the court, so many dignitaries of the
Church, and such a concourse of the people was likely to make
brilliant in the highest degree, were chosen by Abelard for the
scene of his public controversy. He asked that this splendid
gathering should become a council to hear his defence of the

* Amon^ the trvAsnres of tho cathedral are the ecclesiastical robes of Be^ei,

and the aluu* at which he ministered remains.

1859.]

ABBLABiy.

157

faith and his personal vindication. The ^^ealots of his party,
at the head of whom, perhaps, was the famous Arnold of
Brescia* a fugitive from persecution in Italy, urged him on
with their rash persuasions. Bernard was not quite at ease;
for he had some differences with the bishops around Paris
which prejudiced his cause. He went to work at once, how-
ever, with shrewdness and energy, to create an opinion in his
own favor, and to pack the council with his own friends, wrote
letters in all directions, had his emissaries busy with the doubt-
ful, and consented even to meet in person the arch-heretic on
the field of his trial The pious sentences of the Psalmist and
the Saviour, which he went up to Sens humbly repeating,
seem more suitable to the case of his adversary than to his
own. It was for the accused rather than the accuser to say,
" It shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak.^*
Few notices of this important Council have come down to
us. We learn its doings from the report of Bernard's party,
and not from official documents. If we may believe these,
Abelard's whole demeanor justified the sentence which had
been previously determined. The saint, they say, walked with
downcast eyes, with sad countenance, coarsely clad, dispens-
ing benedictions to the kneeling crowds, who saw heavenly
meekness and love in his humility. The heretic, unbroken by
suffering, marched with head erect, with haughty mien, fright*
ening by his majestic glance those who dared to gaze curiously
at him. Even the magnificent ceremonies of the first day,
given up to processions and music and panegyric upon the
martyrs, skilfully contrived to dazzle the multitude and fasten
thera to the splendid ritual of the Church, were less remark-
able than the contrast between these two great men, which
forced itself upon the eyes of all the spectators. And on the
second day, the day of trial, it was evident enough that Abe-
lard stood before his rival as a condemned criminal before his
prosecutor. Solemnly, in the great church of St. Stephen,
around the king on his throne, the princes and prelates, priests
and scholars, — the crowd behind filling all the aisles, — waited

* Arnold of Breicm i» ono of tho«« early rcforroere to whom hiitory bos oever
douG justice. He was the Luther of the twelfth cetiturj.

VOL* Lxxxvin. — NO. 182, 14

158 ABBLABD. pUtk

almost breathlessly for the heretic to appear. He paiaed opi
toward the altar, bat stopped midwayi as he saw in flM:p«|»
pit before him JBemaid holding in his hand the gnStj tq^
nmes. Seventeen heretical doctrines had been sdecbed fajliMI
keen accnser. The attending deris began in a loud TO&oe'to
read them. Suddenly Abelard bade him desisti protested SUA*
grily that he would hear no farther, that he << appealed to IImi
Pope," and disappeared from the assembly. Whether it }
by design, or from a sadden impalse of fear, that Abelaid i
acted, we have no means of knowing. It is likely that he I
resolved beforehand, if, like Panl at Jerasalem, he^ shoold
no hope of justice from his own people, to carry his ap
last to Rome.

The Council at first were in consternation* Bhonld^tlMi^
go on and sentence one who had transfened his cause to the
higher tribunal ? Could they anticipate the judgmeiit of the
Lateran? Many doubted, some feared; but Bernard over-
ruled all scruples by pleading the disgrace of thus leaving the
victory to the heretia On the following days the various'j
counts were taken up, discussed, and finally condemiied, to
the number of fourteen. It was decreed, on the ground of
garbled extracts and forced constructions, that the accused
had taught heresy, in denying, like Sabellius, the doctrine of
a Trinity of persons; in denying, like Nestorius, that the
Christ is a person of the Trinity; in denying, like
gius, the doctrine of special saving grace ; in asserting
Jesus saves by his example and his life more than by his ^
carious sacrifice; in asserting that GU>d cannot prevent eifl;
an 1 n teaching that sin is rather in the will than in the eele
of men, and that ignorance is not sin. The discussions WVM
not violent, nor was any penalty pronounced against the ofr
fender. There was no Te Deum sung when the laudabletaak
was finished. Yet Bernard aimed here a blow which shcnald
destroy the influence of his foe, and make it impossible fiir lii«n
to regain in the Church the rank of a master. He had yet to
deal with the pending appeal to Rome, and with the apologiee
for Abelard, which were not few nor contemptibte. The
sentence of the Council might satisfy the bishops, but it oonld
not silence the scholars of the Church.

1839.]

AB18LABD.

159

Abelard had many friends at Rome* An eminent Cardinal
of the Sacred College, who, four years later, became Celestine
II.j was his steadfa.^t defender. The scholura might be ex-
pected to favor his cause. Bat the flatteries, the persuasions,
the warnings, the persistent entreaties, the magical authority
of the monk of Clairvaiix, were greater at Rome than all the
iDfluences which supported the cause of his rival. In vain
Heloise could show the sound and orthodox confession which
her friend had prepared for her use. In vain a young student "
could smite with his sarcasms the solid fame of the guardian
of orthodoxy, and show that Bernard more even than Abelard
was false to Scripture and to truth, ^ — conld ridicule the Coun-
cil as an assembly of stupid sots, and their leader aa a tnali-
cious plotter, Bernard took care that the Pope should so decide
that the unity of the Church should stand, and an undivided
front be shown agamst this, as against every heresy* A double
mandate came from the Papal palace; — one order, forbidding
Abelard to teach in public, and another secret order, condemn-
ing his books to be burned, and commanding his imprison-
ment In this last order, Arnold of Brescia was joined*

Before this decision was made known in France, Abelard
had commenced his journey to Rome. It had for him all the
toil, with none of the joy, of a pilgrimage. A few days of travel
brought him to that famous monastery of the Benedictines,
the ruins of which still invite the voyager off from his beaten
track, Cluny had been for two centuries the home of learning,
the refuge of misfortune, the nursery of temperate piety. Its
present Abbot, Peter the Venerable, was a father in the Church
beloved for his virtues, respected for his scholarship, and every-
where praised for his serene and pacific charity*! ^^'^^ broth-
erhood of Cluny, under his control, were not severe ascetics,
and their Abbot was no friend to the rigid Bernard. Here
Abelard stopped for some days to rest, and here first learned
that public decision of Rome concerning his heresy which
made his farther journey needless. It required no long argu-

• Peter Bcrengcr, the nntne^ke and papil of Abelard, whose brilliant dt fence of
Itis teacher excited the admimtion of Europe^ became aftern'ard^ one of the roost
bitter foes of the great philosopher.

t The noble remark of Peter in hh letter to Bemaxxl it, ^* The rule of St. Benedict
is subordinate to the rule of charitj***

160 IBXLABD. IIIWI^

ment to reconcile the weary and desponding mflEoer to Ids Ji^
evitable fiEite. Cinny was not so much his prison as his hmfifgf
retreat, where he might now finirii the remnant of his eiMMq|fr
ered and broken career. Waiving his rank as an abbo^ wmA
dismissing his pride of phikMophy, he enrolled himself with tte
brethren of the convent, gave himself to the qniet roatine ot a
cloistral life, and humbled himself to the plaoe of a servMOt*
They began to celebrate Abelard's piety^— to teU how the tim^
mer heretic was now'a saint, and the once pnmd scholar ttaft
a model of the Christian beatitudes. To the eyesof hJsbiaitti
ren he seemed to have died to all fleshly losts, to all worid^
ambition. Bernard had already been satisfied by the mmw
confession of fieuth vriiich misfortone had extorted, and il|»
good Abbot Peter was now edified by the spectade of m oqa-
verted and experienced Christian. How ddosive tlieae w/h
pearances were, the great work of AbdarA on the Sdiobalgv
Philosophy, to which he here gave the finishtng tnnsihfi^
proves. In his self-oommmiing, the anconquerable prido fltQL
breaks forth ; he defies the envions wodd, asserts the iniih,ia(f
his lessons, predicts that the fntore will avenge Us &me audi
recognize his power. The victim, uncrowned and defeslBd^
will be lifted hereafter to his rightfdl place, and the wodd shall
in him know the vindicator of science and the prophet of ftse
dom. His age has ungratefully rejected him, but humani^
shall accept and honor him.*

A few months of strug^e with disease and pain W9t0
yet left to him. He spent them in constant literary 1i^
bor. Friends waited to write from his dictation, and to hapr
the fragments of his wisdom. For better air, he was sent to
the priory of St Marcellus, where they vainly hoped that Up
waning force might be revived. His death, which took
here, on the 2l8t of April, 1142, was tranquil, and
triumphant We need not follow the fortune of his rdioa,
the history of which is not a little curious, or tell of the i
mental letters which passed between the Abbot of Quny
the Abbess of Paradete, or of the mimdes observed when the

* It has been more than once remaiked, that, thongh Abelard seoned to
retracted hU heresies, yet no one of the ofibnsiTe opinions or pamgoi
gated from his writings. Hu secret resermtion antidpaied the *• par si m
of Galileo

1859.]

ABEtAHD.

tomb from time to time has been opened. After many cbao*
ges, the translations of piety and the fury of revolotions, the
remainsi of the philosopher and of her who shared his truest
aflection rest where the great and the wise and the holy of
the land are laid down together.

Abelard's character is made up of contrasts, and is not easy
to be analyzed. He was a man to win respect and kindle]
enthusiasm, but not one to be deeply loved, or thoroughly '
understood. His friends were fascinated by his genius more
than they were drawn by his kindliness. In him the gifts of
mind towered so high above the graces of heart, that his affec-
tions, if true and tender, had no chance to prove themselves sov '
That he was a leader by natural right, all allowed. That he
was ambitious, arrogant, and haughty, men forgot in the splen-
dor of his intellectual daritig. He vindicated his conceit by
hie marvellous achievements. His thirst for knowledge was
the compensation for his lack of reverence, and his diligent
searching was the complement of his defective prayer. Men
saw that he who reasoned about mysteries was not a scoiling
Iconoclast, but a steadfast student of wisdom. Men knew
that he who claimed to dictate wjls constant to hear the truth
above him* If they beheld* him^ometimes timid before men,
they saw him always braye before opinions. He was intel-
lectually the boldest of men. He knew no pro[K?r bound to
investigation, no just hinderance to inquiry. There was no
dogma too sacred to be tried by his reason, no theme too high
to be brought into his discussion.

Like all innovators, Abelard was arbitrary and impatient of
contradiction. Prudence of thought or word or action was
not a virtue with him. He could command, but h*- could not
manage, his folJowers, While his scrutiny was close, so that
no abune escaped his eye, he wanted tact to deal with abases,
and could only expose, but not correct them. With a critical
intellect, he had not practical skill, — not even ^kill to hide his
own defects of temper. His enemies believed that he was
jealous, his friends mourned that he was heedless. Ready for
any enterprise, he was unequal to any crisis. Love of com-
mand made him intolerant of all rivalry, and love of renown
led him into needless quarrels ; yet none could accuse him of
14-

162 ABBLABB.

the meaner forms of selfishneBB, — of aTarice, cnnniBi^ <
dictiveness. He might be insolenty bnt he was not i
His anger might be easily aroused, but hatred did not find j
in his heart They called him ficklei in his fieqnent
from the school to the cloister, and the doiBter to the
The last impression of his life, on the contrary, is that of «
steady and loyal devotion to learning and philoaopfay,
the most severe calamities conld not break.

His industry was extraordinary. It did not^ indaad^ i
itself in such volnminoos writings as those of the
who were later interpreters of the new science wbidi
annonnced, but rather in the study of the Greek philoMpham
and the Christian Fathers. His woAb all together mriBn-tait
a single quarto, while many folios are the marvelJgus niunu*
ment of some who were formed by his influence* Abelard
was rather a reader and a critic, than the expositor of a new
theory. His labor was rather in arranging the materials for
controversy, than in recording its results sind fralts. Ills
method of teaching was to cite, to review, to discuss what
earlier writers had maintained, and then to give with brevity
his own decision. His books are therefore more iike judg-
ments than like treatises, — fragmentary opinions rather than a
digested system.

Abelard was the founder, though not the oi^aniier, of m pmm
school both in philosophy and theology. The method and tte
direction which learning took in the subsequent age wen Un
in the beginning. The great teachers of the twelfth and tiois
teenth centuries were virtually his pupils. The ^ Bfaatar of
Sentences " was wont to say that Abelard's ^ SU et Nm**wtm
his breviary. Even those who opposed his theories nnnffiMil
their indebtedness to him. The Realists made o^ of the
arms which the first champion of the Nominalists :
It was the crime of Abelard that he reconciled the Gospel '
Aristotle, and converted heathen maxims into Chris^ui do|^
mas. But in the next century, that great light of the Oath-
olic Church, whose works are still the textJbook of fidth to
all the brotherhood of Rome, St. Thomas AqninaSi pioved,
us a strict follower of him who taught in Ptois befoiei
Aristotle was orthodox ; — and all the people said, Ansen !

ABirXtAKD.

Not much can be said in praise of the style of Abelard^a phil-
osophical writings. It is as good as the style of his age, but
that was hard, dry, unadorned, and uninspired. The thought
18 exact enough, but the words are abstract and the sentences
obscure in their prolixity. It needed hiB voice and manner to
make his ideas attractive. He wrote at a time when the
Latin tongue had reached the climax of ruggedness and corrup-
tion. Except in his correspondence, and in a few passages of
his UisLoria Calamilaittm^ we look in vain for that nervous
brilliancy which marks the pleading of Jerome of Bethlehem,
or that graceful elegance which brings Erasmus of Rotterdam
close to the golden age of Roman letters. To both these
remarkable men he bears resemblance, as well in the points of
his character as in the circumstances of his life. The same
pedantry, vanity, and arrogance, the same consciousness of
power, the same dread of persecution, which we have marked
in him, we find in them as strikingly exemplified. As a
scholar he was hardly their inferior. But as a writer he must
yield to them the palm.

A candid examination of his WTitings will not justify the
stigma of heresy which was fastened to the name of Abelard,
On the contrary, his opinions are quite as orthodox as the ne*
cessities of sainthood require. It is his spirit, and not his
dogma, w^hich is heretical. His crime was that he would be
a prophet, and not a priest; that he made men think, when he
should have made thtm worship. He might be loyal, yet his
influence was dangerous. Bernard could see latent heresy and
the promise of a rebellion, even where the present conclusion
accorded with established formulas. The discussion itself^ not
merely its issue, was sinful. The genius of the teacher was
revolutionary, though ii^work might not be perfected in many
ages. Abelard*s condemnation was the beginning of that
warfare of the Church with rationalism, the end of which is
not yet It was the opening of that sharp controversy of
reason with authority, of learning with faith, which has
separated for the modern Church what the tendencies of the
ancient Church would have happily joined. It marks the
time when the Church distinctly announces itself as the enemy
of freedom, in thought not less than in action. The sentence

164 ABELARD. [Jan.

of Abplard ii? the complement to the submission of Henry of
G('rmany. Science, as well as the state, mast now bend to
the ecclesiastic sway. The school, with the court, must con-
sent to be an appendage to the altar and the cloister. Nay,
the cloister itself must lose its scholastic glories, and mnst
limit hereafter its studies to the measure of its symbols and
its prayers. The renown of the old Benedictines shall wane
before the zeal of the followers of St Dominic, and before the
au:«terities of the brethren of St. Francis. The preachers
an(.l the friars shall silence the scholars and vex the colleges.
Abelard. tiiough not himself a martyr like those whom the In*
qui>ition murdered, was the pioneer of the noblest martyrs,
the martyrs of knowledge and light and liberty. His sentence
prophesied the scattering of Wickliflc's ashes, the burning of
Huss on the plain of Constance, the awful day of St Bar-
tholomew, the exile of Grotius, and the prison of Galileo, as
much as his teaching prophesied the philosophy of Pascal, of
Descartes, and of Francis Bacon.

Abi'Iard's life had not, it may seem to us, an heroic close.
He died, they say, humiliated and repentant, undoing that
work of reform which at best he had only half completed.
Bur. with all his reverses, he had a nobler hope than Bernard
-.vith all his successes. The busy guardian of the Church
coulJ ^re only trouble for the llock of Christ, when his strong
arm >ijoiiM full from its defence, — only fear and danger in the
futiir". Tlv; philosophic scholar could Snd consolation in the
ar^Lir.incc !h:it disciples had not forgotten the word of their
master, and iliiit the truth which he had declared would not
dit.* v/ith him. Tlio sadness of Bernard was all in the prospect;
:h':- ?LiJne?s of Abelard was all in the retrospect. The present
vii::ory ci* the one was darkened by the ^hadow of coming her-
p?io< and urowinir scandals : the present defeat of the other was
brii:h:oneil by the confidence that the emancipation of thought
w.i:- near to i-s dawninsr. He might be weak ; he might be
for>akcn. But he knew that the encounter of truth with false-
hood should come : that champions should arise for her; that
the Almiiihty was on her side: that now she might be boand,
bu: the bonds could not hold for ever: that against policies
and siratairems and lieensings of the Church her word should

1659.]

ABELAHD.

165

stand and her trinniph be sealed. The victories of science in
this latter day arc proving, even more than the homage of a
nation at his tomb, how wise was the hope of the defeated
scholar, how much wiser than the anathemas of the zealot
of the twelfth century. The majestic periods of the Areopa-
gitica of Milton are the expression of the sufficient comfort of
Abelard's last years.

We cannot better close this imperfect sketch than by trans-
lating a passage from M. Cousin's Introduction to the unpub-
lished works of Abelard, in which with adiuirable precision he
states the philosophic position and inHuence of this philoso-
pher and scholar.

" A hero of romance in the Church, a man of refinement in a barbar-
ous age, a chief of a school^ and almost a martyr for opinion^s sake,
eTerythiag united to make of Abelard an extraordinai-y person. But
of all his cUiims, that which g^ivcs him a special place in the Jiistory of
the human soul is the invention of a new philosophical system, and the
application of this system, and, in general^ of philosophy, to theology.
Doubtless we can find, before Abelard, some rare examples of such an 1
applicalion, perilous:, but usefyl, even in its fragments, to the progress of 1
reason. But it was Abelard Ibat erected it into ti pi*mc{pk ; and it was |
he, therefore, who most contributed to found scholasticism ; for scholas-
ticism IS nothing else than this. From the time of Charlemagne, and
even before, in many places a little grammar and log;ic were taught, and
religious teaching was not lacking ; but this teaching was limited to a
more or leas regular exposition of the sacred dogmas; it was enough
for faith, but did not fructify the understanding. Only the introduction
of dialectics into theology could arouse that controversial spirit, which
is at once the vice and the glory of scholasticism. Abelard is the prin-
cipal author of this introduction ; he is therefore the chief ftmndcr of
mediieva! pliilosophy ; so that France has furnished to Europe both the
scholasticism of the twelfth century by Abelard, and in Descartes at the
beginning of the seventeenth cejitury the destroyer of this very scholas-
ticism and the father of modern pliilosophy. In this there is no in-
consistency; for the same spirit which had raised ordinary religious
teaching to the systematic and rational form which is called scholasti-
cism, could readily go further, and produce philosophy properly so called.
The same land has fitly produced at some ages of distance apart Abe-
lard and Descartes ; and between these two men we maj remark* along
with many differences, a striking resemblance, Abelard endeavored to
make himself fully conversant with the only I lung that in his age could
be studied, — theology ; Descartes investigated what in his age might

166 THOMPSON'S HISTORY OP BOSTON. [Jan.

best bo studied, — man and nature. The latter recognized do authoritj
but roason : while the former undertook to carry reason over into aa-
thority. Both doubt, l)oth examine, both wish to understand all that
th(>y o:iii, and to be satisfied only by evidence, — a common temper
wliioh they borrow from the French mind, and a fundamental trait which
brings with it many minor marks of resemblance ; for instance, that
.'loanu'ss of ppeeoh which comes spontimeously from clearness and pre-
i'i>ioii of ideas. Add to thi», that Abelard and Descartes are not only
Fi\iK'!.inen. but that they belong to the same province, to that Brittaoy
will 1^0 people are distinguished by so quick a sentiment of freedom
and siu-h siivng personality. Ilenee, in these two illustrious compa-
triots, with their natural originality, with their disposition to admire
but moderately what had been done before them and what was doing
in tln'ir own time, we find independence pushed ot*tcn to the quarrel-
-some snirit. eoniidenee in their own strength and contempt of their ad-
ver-iarie-?, more ei>n?isteney than weight in their opinions, more sagaeitj
[\\:\i\ bn.\idth. more vigor in the stamp of mind and tem{»er than eleva-
ti.'Ti ai:d protbundness in thought, more ingenuity than common sense.
In ti:ii.\ ihoy are fruitful in their own notions rather than lit^ed to ani-
vers;il reason. ob?iina!o. venturesome, radical, revulutionanr."

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1859.] THOMPSON'S HISTORY OF BOSTON. 167

services to the historiographer of nations and eras, in furnish-
ing particulars for generalization, and in determining the due
tone, shading, and perspective of the picture designed to com-
prehend a broad extent of time or territory. Let our readers
intensify whatever has been thus said to the utmost point
which their idea of a book's capacity can reach, and they will
only thus form an adequate conception of the volume before
us. This high grade of interest and merit is due equally to
the author and to the subject. The author has made this the
work of a lifetime. He began to collect his materials in 1804,
and in 1820 published a volume, entitled '^ Collections for a
Topographical and Historical Account of Boston, and the
Hundred of Skirbeck, in the County of Lincoln." During a
residence of twenty-seven years in the United States, he was
still employed in gathering such materials as could be obtained
on this side of the Atlantic. On his return to England, in
1846, he found that a new edition of his former work was
called for, and he determined to make it as thorough and com-
prehensive as possible. The present work is the result of this
purpose, carried into execution by the special labor of ten
years, added to the researches of the previous forty. Thus we
have the results of more than half a century of enlightened, ju-
dicious, and diligent toil condensed in this massive and elegant
volume.

Mr. Thompson was fortunate in his subject. In population
and business the Boston of the Old World bears but an in-
significant proportion to her sister city of the same name in
the New ; but in the materials of history the proportion is
much more than reversed. Traditions and ruins that date
back at least as far as the invasion of Britain by Julius Ca^^ar
form the dim and semi-mythical background of the narrative,
while from the Norman conquest downward every age has
left some vestiges of itself, — names, foundations, guilds, char-
ities, architectural monuments, municipal customs, — to be
traced in the town as it is. The cumulative power of centu-
ries is profoundly felt as we turn over these pages, and then
reflect that time has wrought the same work for every rood
of ground in our mother country, constituting the elements of
substantial greatness in every dimension, heaping np wealth

16S THOMPSON'S HISTORY OP BOSTON. [Jail.

from the surplus earnings of every year's industry, creating
permanent funds for almost every conceivable purpose of util-
ity and beneficence, multiplying enduring public works and
institutions indurated by immemorial prescription, covering
the soil with structures whose costly foundations could have
been laid only by the treasured resources of long antecedent
generations, and whose successive additions and repairs far
transcend the ordinary outlay of the most magnificent edifices
in a new country. In this last particular alone, the town of
Boston contains probably a much larger number of buildings
deserving special commemoration than could be found in the
entire State of Massachusetts. Mr. Thompson*s plan embraces
the most generous scope, and seems to have left no opening
for t!:e labors of any successor in the same field, till years shall
have furnished a fresh supply of materials. In addition to a
minute detail of the antiquities, history, geography, and topog-
raj^liy of the town and the whole circumjacent region, he has
civ.':^ u> ably and thoroughly written chapters on its geolc^j,
na:-.:rAl hisTory. and archaisms, under the last head including
j-Toviiioialisrr.s of speech, and local proverbs, customs, and so-
p-;:<::-\\:s. To these he has added the genealogies of all the
v:.: vi.M". :.i!'.i:/!os. and bio^phies of distinguished residents
.■.:.«i :.■:■■..:< vf Po:s:o:i arui ::s v:c!:i::y. He furnisher also
.,^ ;■.. .:> c\:r.'..::i :'ror: ::'.e :::i::-.ij!:M'. recorJs, s:a::s::os of trade
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1859.] THOMPSON'S HISTORY OP BOSTON. 169

Saxon chronicle, in which it is said that " St Botolph built
a monastery here, A. D. 664, upon a desert piece of ground
given him for that purpose by Ethelmund, king of the South
Angles " ; and though this statement has been riddled through
and through by sceptical antiquaries, we think it beyond
doubt that at some obscure period of British history a pious
monk named Botolph built a monastery somewhere in that
neighborhood, that this religious house became the nucleus
of a growing population, and that, with the decline of rev-
erence in general and a special obtuseness as to the merits
of the Saxon saint, the cluster of dwellings which rejoiced
in the designation of St. Botolph's town, by successive ab-
breviations, became Boston. In process of time it was made
the site of several wealthy ecclesiastical establishments, which
were dissolved by Henry VIIL, who granted the fee of their
lands to the town, then first incorporated as a free borough.
Prior to this period it had a flourishing trade, especially in
wool and leather, and was extensively engaged as early as the
twelfth century in the manufacture of woollen cloth. We find
during that century traces of some of the less reputable habits
of trade, — "priscse vestigia fraudis," — which have not yet
become obsolete. Some of the king's justiciaries came to
Boston to seize certain cloths of less than statutable width ;
but the merchants succeeded in bribing the ministers of justice
to leave the cloth in their hands, to the detriment of their pur-
chasers. About the same time, we find a statute which, if
we are rightly informed, might not unaptly be enacted in our
own land and day, ordering " that dyed cloths should be of
equal quality throughout, and that the merchants who sold
such goods should not hang up red or black cloths at their
windows, nor darken them by penthouses, to prevent any from
having a good light in buying their cloths." In 1205, of a tax
of one fifteenth levied on goods in the hands of merchants,
London paid ^£836, and Boston, being then in relative im-
portance the second port in the kingdom, paid j£780. At this
time the town was surrounded by a wall, no vestiges of which
can now be seen, but which has left evidences of its former
existence in the names of several streets derived from the gates
at which they terminated, as Bargate, Wormgate. The in-

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 15

170 THOMPSON'S HISTORY OF BOSTON. [Jan.

habitants of the town were probably early driven to the
by the impracticability of land-carriage; for the whole sur-
rounding country was an undrained marsh or fen, exposed to
frequent and disastrous inundations, and with causeways so
ill-constructed, or so ruinous, that travellers w^ere often drowned
on the " king*d highway." Carriages of course w^ere out of
the question, and pack-horses were deemed a less safe convey-
ance for goods than human shoulders. Thus, as in such na-
mtTous instances in all time, the very restrictions and disabil-
ities which seemed insurmountable were the motives and
stimulants to bolder and more lucrative enterprise than would
else have been initiated.

Camden, writing in 1607, says of Boston : —

" Whore the river Wit ham, enclosed on both sides i^ith artificial
banks, runs with a full stream into the sea. stands the flourishing town
of Boston, more truly Botolph*s town, for it took that name, as Bede
tostities. from Botolph. a pious Saxon, who had a monastery at Icmn-
hoo. It is a famous town, and built on both sides the river \lltham,
ovo:* whioh there is a very high wooden bridge ; it has a commodioos
:i!;a AVr'U-frequonted haven, a great market, a beautiful and large charcb,
tht- tower of which is very high, and docs as it were salute travellers
:i: ;i Jireat disranoo. and direct mariners. It was miserablv rained ia
Kiward I.'s reijTi : iVr in :l:a: dijc 1:0 rate ago.nr. i universal corruptiOQ

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1859.] THOMPSON'S HISTORY OF BOSTON. 171

most spacious and magnificent parish church in the kingdom.
It stands on the site of an earlier church, of which we find
mention in 1090. The foundation of the present tower was
laid in 1309, and the nave, aisles, and a part of the chancel are
believed to have been erected in the reign of Edward III. In
1843, the edifice having become much dilapidated, arrange-
ments were made for effecting the needed repairs, which oc-
cupied a period of not less than ten years, at the cost of nearly
£ 11,000. The entire building is 282 feet in length, 99 feet
in breadth, with a steeple 292 feet high. Mr. Thompson
enters into the most minute and elaborate detail with reference
to this church, and gives us numerous drawings of its exterior
aspects, its sepulchral monuments, its windows, interior coup
cFceilj ceiling, and organ. Without resort to other than verbal
painting, we can give no idea of so vast and venerable a struc-
ture within reasonable limits. But there is one portion of it
in which we have a special interest Our readers need not to
be reminded that Rev. John Cotton, after having held, for the
space of twenty years, the vicariate of St Botolph's, became
an exile for conscience' sake, and, as a Christian teacher and
pastor in our own Boston, was largely and beneficently influ-
ential in the ordering alike of our ecclesiastical polity and of our
humble essays at organized self-government Mr. Thompson
has copied from Drake's History of our Boston a woodcut, rep-
resenting the low, unadorned shed, far beneath the propor-
tions and dignity of a barn, in which he dispensed the word
of life to his New England flock. In 1854, at the instance of
Mr. Thompson, Rev. George Beatson Blenkin, the present
vicar of St Botolph's, wrote to Hon. Edward Everett, suggest-
ing that the descendants of John Cotton, (among whom are
the Everett family and many other of our influential New
England families,) and such persons as might be disposed to
unite with them, should defray the expense of restoring a chapel
in the ancient church, to be called the Cotton Chapel, and to
be held sacred to the memory of the holy man from whom it
should derive its name. The suggestion was cordially received,
and the sum of nearly £ 600 was r^sed for the purpose,
George Peabody, with characteristic generosity, being the
largest subscriber. Of the apartment designated for this use
Bfr. Thompson gives the following account

172 Thompson's bistort of boston. [Jan.

*^Tlic chapel on the west side of the porch opens into the nave
throu;;li two arches, the lower parts of which are fitted with a neat
wood(;n screen, and are now [i. e. prior to the restoration] used as a
v<-stry and r<>cord-room ; it is traditionally called the Founder's Chapel,
we do not know upon what authority. It was formerly used for the
teaching; of (he school founded by INIr. John Laughton, in 1707. The
v(*siry -hooks, &'c, are now contained in a fine old oak-chest.'* — p. 188.

The hirgo and handsome window at the western end of this
chaprl 1ms been filled with glass stained in appropriate devices.
T\\c other windows have been repaired, the floor levelled and
rclaid, the walls scraped and cleaned, and the ceiling renewed.
A nionuniontal tablet of marble has been erected, with the
following inscription, whose elegant Latinity and discriminat-
ing panegyric are due to the good judgment that designated
Mr. Hverett for the pious ollicc of its preparation : * —

IN PKUrKTUAM JO II ANN IS COTTONI MEMORIAM,

HI' J US ECCLKSI.K ANTIQU-?i BOSTOXIENSIS

Ml»l.l\>S PKU ANN03, REO.XANTIBUS JACOBO ET CAROLO PRIHO,

YICARH C.RAVIS, DISERTI, LABORIOSI ;

IU:1N PKOrTKR RES SACRAS IN PATRIA MISERE TURBATAS,

NOVIS SEIUIJUS IX NOVO ORBE QUJJSITIS,

KrrLKs^I.K rRIMARI.l? BOSTONI-E XOV-AXOLORDM,

NOMEji HOC VENERABILE

A nOSTONlA 11 AC PRISCA BRITANXICA

IX CorrOM HONOUKM PEinVEXTIS,

ISvOn: Al> FINKM VIT.K SIMMA LACPE,

srMM.vv,»i'i: IN iu:ius TAM UVMANIS vJIAM divixis auctoritatb,
p.v^vouis Er ivcTOKis:

VNNIS i\^\XV IVSr MliJKATIONKM KJIS PERACTIS,

nUhlNAll VJIS v'lVKSOli: roSTOXlKXSES AMERICAXI,

A KKAIUUUS VNv;i.h'lS Al* HvV PIIM MIXIS PROVOCATI,

NK VlUl VXlMll XOMEX,

ivun<cii: ouins m-siMKii ft pivoris,
i^uvus A niMri.-^ Nv^viu vxilaki:!,

IN Ci^" rVU TvU* VNNv^S Oi; Vi VI A I'lVIXA

■.^:ii»;rNvvH is\'r>: svNv r/ci V- vnixtiavi^set,

Ux\' sv.v. ;»M uvsvAi i;\n:^vm vr !i\n\' tavvlam poxexdam,

vNNO sv. ;::s nvvvriiuyv v'i,^;.\.vclv.

iii'VNrvi; v^Kwr .•iKv\yKVNr.

• ' \ v. ^ ■.> .. *. > > • S ,• ^ ; -a'. .■.>:> j:- :>hcd Ace

1S59J

OTOSTPSOK'S HISTORY OF BOSTON

173

In the long line of vicars of the old churchj of whom we
have a complete catalogue for five centuries and a half, we
find not one other name of enduring reputation, and but three
that eeem to have attained any extended fame in their own
times* Richard Flemyng (1409-20) is mentioned by his
contemporary Ingulphus ^* as an excellent doctor of holy the-
ology/* His talents were enlisted successively on both sides
of the great controversy of the day, he having been first a
zealous defender, and afterward an equally zealous antag*
onist, of the doctrines of Wickliffe. He became Bishop of
Lincoln, and founded Lincoln College, Oxford. Anthony
Tuckney, (1633-60,) John Cotton's kinsman and immediate
BQccessor, was a member of the Westminster Assembly of
Divines, and one of the most learned and eminent among the
clergy of his generation. He was, successively, Master of
Emanuel College, Master of Trinity College, and Regius
Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge, His
successor, Obadiah Howe, (1660-83,) was the author of sev-
eral controversial and other works of marked ability. It was
said of him by an opponent, ** that he was a person of consid-
erable parts and learning, but thought so most by himself,"

Of ecclesiastical edilices in Boston, not under the control
of the national Church, the principal is the Wesley an Cente-
nary Chapel, the most spacious and elegant Dissenters' chapel
in Lincolnshire, and exceeded by few in the kingdom. It
seats 2,300 persons, and was erected at a cost of J 11,000.
It.s front presents a massive Ionic colonnade, winged by two
heavy square towers but little higher than the main building.
Though with great beauty of finish, it is built in a style sug-
gestive of secular rather than of sacred uses; and but for
the name it bears, we should take it for a market-house or a
town-halL Next to this in dimensions and costliness, thor-
oughly church-like in its architecture, and with a lofty tower
and spire at its northwest corner, is the Congregational
Church. We have in this volume, also, views and descriptions
of a very beautiful Chapel of Ease under the auspices of the
vicariate, a plain but symmetrical Unitarian Chapel, a some-
what gaudy General Baptists' Chapel, with that mingling of
order:* which is often stigmatized as peculiarly American, and
15*

174 thompsok's history of boston. [Jan.

Salem Chapel, occupied by the Particular Baptists, and inno-
c<!nt equally of architectural taste and the pretence to it.
Several smaller chapels are mentioned, among others, one be-
longing to the " Primitive Methodists, or Ranters." The pop-
ulation of the town in 1851 was 14,997, and the number of
Hittings in the various places of worship can fall but little, if
any, »hort of the number of persons capable at any one time
of attending religious ^ervices.

The river Witham divides the town into two nearly equal
parts. It i&i, in fact, or would be among our American riversi
but an insignificant stream, being at Boston, only five miles
from tiie sea, less than thirty yards wide. Obstructions to its
navigation had been suffered to accumulate unheeded, till in
the last century it had ceased to be navigable. The channel
has recently been cleared, and vessels of 300 tons can now be
laden at Boston, whence small steamers and barges ply to
liincoln, twenty-eight miles farther up the stream. In 1847,
Hoston liad of registered vessels 186, measuring 8,768 tons.
Its eliief imports are Baltic produce, coal, and manufactnied
goods; its exports, oats, wool, and woad, which last-named
artii'le of commerce is very extensively produced in this
vicinity.

" A s;!)«xiilar rinuiinstanoo h < lorg been noticed respecting certain
liilrs in tho AViihaiu ami tho Wolland, called 'Bird Tides.' These
ooour annually about nudsunimer, and are almost always much lower
than any olhrrs thriMiirhout tho year, Icavin-; the green marshes on the
Ininlrrs of th oso r I vers tree iVom any vi^itation of the tidal waters, al-
thouj;li {\wy aro mostly mori* or loss ioveri^d J»y the s^pring-tided at all
othor soa>ons. Tlio ooourroiuv ot' iho>o low tides about the time when
tho nnnuivns Ma and land birds that tVcquont these marshes are hatch-
in;i thvir op::s ihot^\ ilius ui^ir.s: thorn time to portect that operation
wi;hont tho xlostrui-iivc i-.norveniion of tho suit water* has caused the
vounlry pv\'plo to say. that '.'■./ fi.us (:.'v iMCt-r nt tLu season in on&r
: '; I > .' tf:- .'■ ■ ■. :"> • . . : •; '. . J .'• ' '* . : ' . :* ''. : isr 0* f" •"'■ JL : - •;.«;.' No doubt the success
of tho \,\\wv oi\ ration is s;\'iired by tho smalinoss v^f ihe^e tides; and
prrha|w an avU\-,:a:o oau<o lor tluir i:>ual repibr occurrence may be
t'onnd in iho o/r.vVst onti:v absor.vo ot' b.:gh winds* arJ a prevalence of
o:din, Nultiy woatht r, at tho annual period of the Rirxi Tide& These
Nm:iU tides arv* notieoab'e. wo believe* very gvnerallr througfaoat the
iMrvioi-s of ih.o ostuarv." — ;•. oo« ,

1859.] Thompson's history op boston. 175

In an American town, or rather city, (for we have no re-
maining tovms so large,) of fifteen thousand inhabitants thus
situated on both sides of a narrow stream, we might very
probably see half a dozen fragile plank bridges, in various
stages of decay. We cannot learn that Boston has more than
one bridge ; but that is a noteworthy structure, resting upon a
single arch of cast-iron, which exceeds in weight two hundred
tons, and which has the foundation of its abutments four feet
below the deepest part of the bed of the river. The entire
cost of building this bridge was nearly £ 22,000. What a
contrast to the tremulous and rotting cobwork which, not only
on our routes of common travel, but even on our railways,
often spans rapid streams and precipitous ravines, and whose
architects and superintendents enable us to conceive of the
Hindoo Thugs — murderers by profession — as a possible
sect!*

Hardly anything in Mr. Thompson's book has interested us
equally with the engravings of various quaint old houses, most
of which still nestle unchanged in the heart of the town, while
others were not permitted to yield place to modern edifices
till, like venerated ancestral forms, they had left their likenesses
for a generation to come. There is, for instance, the tavern
in which Cromwell slept on the night before the battle of
Winceby, and it looks as if it held as many labyrinthal pas-
sages and recesses inaccessible to daylight as were in the
multiform and unfathomable nature of the great soldier-states-
man. There is the house where John Fox was born, and we
can hardly conceive that it should not by its almost fearful
sombreness have shaped the features of even its infant nurse-
ling into the savage grimness which marks the portraits of
the old martyrologist, and have fostered that love of the hor-
rible which seems to have been his passion and his joy. There
is the vicarage where John Cotton lived, — it was taken down
in 1850, and well it might be ; for it had an antique majesty

* Is this too strong langnage in view of facts familiarly known ? It was not a
solitary or unmatched fact, which appeared on the inqaest upon the bodies of thosa
recently murdered on the New York Central Railroad, near Utica, — that the local
fanctionaries of the railway had for several days been fully aware of the decayed
and perilous condition of the bridge whose failure was thus £it«L

176 Thompson's history of eostox. [Ji

and solemnity, which made it an ill-befitting re:fidence in an
age when the last vestiges of stately ceremoniousDess are dia-
appfrariiig from the dre:<s, mien, aud^ manners of oar times.
We might multiply our specifications ; but without tbe en-
gravings it is vain for us to attempt the representation of the
broad, low lattices, the open rafters and oaken arches running
among the brick and stone work, the frowning gables, and the
mar^ses of deep shadow, which, variously and lawlessly cx>in«
bin'.'d. render each of these edifices unique and profoandly
impre.-.sive. Alternating w^ith them, the Sessions- House, the
Athf-nutum, the New Assembly Rooms, and other modem
buildings for various uses, in the pride of faultless symmetry
and f-umptuous ornament, look even mean and paltry, as if
thf'v had no history and could never hold a history. There is,
indeed, thi.^ distinction between the architectural monnments
of a long-pa -it age and the more normal structures of our own,
that whatever human presences have once dwelt in the former
seem lodged there for ever, w*hile nothing of human character
adheres to the latter, — they acquire no personality, but are
as public and common as the streets over which they frown.

Among the curious matters presented to tbe reader are nu-
merous extracts from the Corporation Records and the Parish
R'-qi-tcT:*. In 1-j75. an ordinance is passed requiring " Brew-
er.-, b'.-forc ihey tunne their ale and beer, to send for the ale-tnn-
ncr> to taste the 5ame, to r^ee that it is good wholesome drink.**
In 1049, it i? forbidden to any '• coal-laden ship to sell coal
upon the water, out of the ship, above the price fcced by the
Mayor." In 1»5>3, it is ordered that '• upon any day of solemn
rejoiciiic:, only iOs. was to be spent." At the close of the
sixtr.onth OLiitury, "when any stranger brought goods or vic-
tuiiU of any kind by ship for sale, the Mayor fixed the price
at which the frecnun should, for three days, purchase them
for their own use, after which they and non-freemen purchased
upon the best terms they could." In 15S3, it is made necessary
for -every Mayor, at the expiration of his mayoralty, to pay
over the ballance of his account, or be committed to prison
till i: is paid." In 1590, we find '• the Mayor allowed a hogs-
head of wine for his better provision of house-keopynge." In
1601, it is '• ordered, that there be given to Sir Thomas Mon-

1859.] THOMPSON'S HISTORY OF BOSTON. 177

son, knight, for the redeeming of his Idve and friendship to this
Corporation, 6L ISs. 4d. ; because it cannot be otherwise got'
ten or obtained^ though many means by friends hathe hereto-
fore been used for the same." In 1557, it is " ordered, that if
any alderman swear, either by the masse, or any other part or
member of God, in the Hall, or any other place, he shall pay
for every othe so taken, ii d. ; and lykewyse every one of the
Common Council shall paye for every lyke defaute, i d." We
make no comments; but the question may suggest itself as
to these analects, taken from the successive pages of excerpts
arranged in the alphabetical order of subjects, whether as re-
gards municipal economy and the accountableness of men in
power and trust the former times were not better than our
own. On the Parish Register for 1795, we find admiring
mention of perhaps the largest family on record out of the pur-
lieus of simultaneous polygamy. " William Mason, labourer,
father of forty-six children^ born in wedlock by five wives;
buried 16th March, aged seventy-two."

In the glossary of provincialisms, we find very many that
are completely naturalized in and around our own Boston,
thus indicating the large contributions to the early stock of
our own population derived from our elder name-sister. We
take the following, — few from among many, — in the order in
which they meet our eye. " Apple-pie-order." " Argufy."
" Bannisters. — The rails or balustrade of a staircase." *' Chok-
full." "Chunky. — Short; thick; clumsy in shape and per-
son." ** Crease. — A mark made in paper by being folded,
or in a garment by being sat upon." " Down in the mouth."
" Father long-legs. — The slender, long-legged crane-fly."
" Good mind. — A strong inclination to do anything."
" Heft." " High time." " Hitch on." « Jabber." " Keeping-
room." " Kindling. — Materials for lighting a fire." " Mash-
tub." " May-be." '' Out-and-out." " Quality. — Gentry."
" Right up and down." " Scamp." « Stumpy." « Tip over."
" Unlicked. — Unpolished." " Water bewitched. — Weak tea,
punch, &c." " Wile away. — To wile away the time ; beguile
it"

Among the proverbial sayings of old Boston we recognize
not a few which we bad supposed indigenous to our own soil.

173 THOMPSON'S HISTORY OF BOSTON., [Jaik

Such are the following : — "He 's in the wrong box." " It rains
cats and dogs." *' I '11 go through thick and thin for yoa.'*
" As dead as a door-nail."

Of omens respecting the weather, the shortlist given by Mr.
Thompson corresponds point by point to the popular, but, as
we believe, untrustworthy signs current among us.

** Evening red and morning gray
Are sure signs of a fine day.

** \ mackerel-sky foretells rain.

*• If a cat washes over her ear, it is a sign of fine weather.
^* Wlien a dog or cat eats grass, it betokens approaching rain.
^* When a number of black snails are out on an evening, it will rain
durinj]^ the night.

" Wlien the swallows fly low, rain is at hand.

^* When it rains with the wind in the east,
It will rain fur twenty-four hours at least.*' — p. 735.

In biographical reminiscences the history of Boston is sin-
gularly rich. Its calendar commences with St Botolph, who
is said to have died A. D. 680. According to a well-accred-
ited legend, he redeemed the spot still associated with his
name for human habitancy.

*• Thiit region was as much forsaken by man as it was possessed by
demons, who.se fantastic illusion by the coming of the holy man was
to be immediately put to flight and the pious conversation of the faith-
ful sub-it itutcd in its place, so that where up to that time the deceit of
the devil had abounded, the grace of our beneficent founder should more
abournl. Upon tlie entry therefore of the blessed Botulph, the blackest
smok<^ arises, and the enemy, knowing that his own flight was at hand,
cries out with horrid clamor, saying, *This place which we have inhab-
ited for a long time, we thought to inhabit f«>r ever; why, O Botulph!
most cruel stranger, dost thou violently drive us from these seats? In
nothin;; have we offended thee, in nothing have we disturbed your right ;
what do you seek in our expulsion ? what do you wish to establish
in this region of ours ? and, after being driven out of every corner of the
world, do you expel us wretched even out of this solitude ? * But the
blessed Botulph, having made the sign of the cross, put all his enemies
to flight, and by the powerful virtue of words, — a virtue conceded to
him from Heaven, — he forbids them that region." — p. 371.

George Ripley, second in fame to no alchemist of the six-

1859.] THOMPSON'S HISTORY OP BOSTON. 179

teenth century, was born and died in Boston. Of John Fox
we have already spoken. Ordained by Ridley, an ardent friend
of the Reformation, in its van during the Marian persecution,
it is worthy matter of surprise that he should not have been
painted in a fiery winding-sheet in the Martyrology which he
lived to write. Dr. William Stukeley, the celebrated anti-
quary, and Dr. Patrick Blair, the author of the first systematic
treatise on Botany in the English language, though not natives,
were both residents of Boston. Rev. Dr. Andrew Kippis, equally
distinguished for piety, learning, eloquence, and fine social
powers, and made memorable to posterity by his ^' Biographia
Britannica," was a native of Boston, as were his ancestors for
several generations. Of families eminent for rank and anti-
quity, belonging to the town or its immediate vicinity, or inti-
mately associated with its history, we have the Tilney family,
dating from the time of Edward the Confessor ; the Hollands
of Eatovening ; the Kyme family, settled in Lincolnshire be-
fore the Norman Conquest ; the Irby family, first known to
fame six centuries ago ; the Hussey family, knights and no-
bles, of nearly the same antiquity; the Hutchinson family,
celebrated in the annals of our Cisatlantic Boston ; the Earls
of Holland ; and the Viscounts Boston, the last of whom died,
without male issue, in 1754.

We confess a still deeper interest in the natives or residents
of the English Boston, whose names are intimately associated
with the early days, or are still borne in honor in the contempo-
rary history, of our own city and State. Foremost among these,
on every ground of precedence, is John Cotton. He was born
at Derby, of an ancient and honorable family, was a graduate
of the University of Cambridge, and a Fellow of Magdalen
College. He had been about two years vicar of St Botolph's,
when he began to feel conscientious scruples as to many of
the required ceremonies of the Church. The only course open
to him was non-conformity; and in this he was sustained for
many years, with slight and transient difficulties, by the sanc-
tity of his character, the soundness of his doctrine, and the
gratitude of those who enjoyed his ministrations. At length he
was summoned before the High Commissioners. He applied
to the Earl of Dorset for his intercession with the government,

180 Thompson's history op boston. [Jan.

which proved unavailing through the opposition of Archbishop
Laud. The Earl candidly " informed Mr. Cotton, that if he
had been guilty of drunkenness, uncleanness, or any sach
lesser fault, he could have obtained his pardon ; but as he was
guilty of Puritanism and Non-conformity, the crime was un-
pardonable ; and therefore he advised him to flee for his safe-
ty." Mr. Cotton then, in a letter fraught with the manly dig-
nity and independence of spirit befitting his holy calling, re-
signed the vicarage of Boston into the hands of the Bishop of
Lincoln. He was afterward concealed for a time in London.
In disgui^r:e, and under a feigned name, he eluded pursuit on
his way to the Downs, and took passage there for New Eng-
land. As is well known, he at once rose, by the necessity
of his own charactor, culture, and industry, to the first place
in the infant colony, over whose affairs he may be truly said
to have presided, and in whose arduous service he labored
with indefatigable zeal for nearly as many years as he had
occupied with like fidelity his pastorate in his native land.
Of him Increase Mather, his son-in-law, writes : " Both Bos-
tons have reason to honor his memory, and the New England
most of all, which oweth its name and being to him, more
than to any other person in the world."

Mr. Cotton was accompanied or speedily followed to New
England by Richard Belli ngham, who had been Recorder of
Boston for eight years previously. Mr. BcUingham was Dep-
iity-Ciovcrnor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony for thirteen
years, and (Jovernor for ten. He was a lawyer by education,
and left a high reputation for integrity and picjty. Yet he
r-eenis to have been an im])ractical)le man in his ollicial inter-
course, was often at variance with his brother magistrates, and,
with prr maturely liberal and even democratic views of gov-
ernuKMil, maintained th<* utmost rigidness of discipline against
the Ciiiakers and other sectaries. Hubbard WTites concerning
hiin: " He was a great justiciary, a notable hater of bribes,
firm and fixed in any resolution he entertained, of larger com-
pniliension than expression, like a vessel whose vent holdeth
no good proportion with its capacity to contain, — a disad-
vantage to a public person.'' On one important occasion, it
would appear that the sentinel virtues nodded over their camp-

THOMPBCN'8 HISTORY OF BOSTOK,

fire, and the old Puritan was surprised by the enemy whose
conquests level all distinctions. A young lady, about to be
niarried to a friend of his, so struck his fancy as adapted to
succeed the wife of his youth, whom he had recently laid in the
grave, that he contrived to supplant her affianced bridegroom.
Iq the haste and sharae of the transaction, he omitted the pre-
scribed form of pnblieatioD, and served as the officiating mag-
istrate at his own nuptials. The grand jury presented him to
the General Court for these irregularities ; but he was ex offi-
cio the presiding magistrate, and, as he declined leaving the
bench for the bar, the case was not adjudicated.

Thomas Leveret t, probably a native, certainly for many years
a resident, of Boston, and successively of the Common Coun-
cil, coroner, and alderman of the borough, was one of John
Cotton's companions on his voyage to America, and was or-
dained a ruling elder of the church in our own Boston shortly
after bis arrival. It cannot be ascertained of what profession
he was. There is no proof of his having been a lawyer:
but he seems to have assisted his friend and pastor in a semi-
legal capacity during the pendency of the measures which
resulted in his exile. He was a man of eminent uprightness*
ability, and discretion. It was his son who succeeded Bel-
lingham as Governor, and was knighted by Charles IL, — not,
however, by his own seeking or desire ; for, with the instinc-
tive prescience befitting the chief magistrate of a state in
training for republican institutions, he concealed his title so
far as he was able, and made use of it on no occasion what-
ever. The family traits were merged in the next generation.
the Governor's son, Hudson, being said "to have maintained
but an indifferent character." They reappeared, however, in
Hudson's son, the President of Harvard University, whose
previous eminence as a legislator, magistrate, and judge, to-
gether with his signal firmness and vigor in his academic office,
was appealed to as a precedent, when, some thirty years ago,
the administration of the College was for the ^^econd time put
into the hands of a distinguished statesman and jurist

John Cotton was also accompanied to the New World by
Atherton Hough, who had been promoted to various offices
of trust and honor in Boston, was Mayor of the borough in

VOL. LXXXVIIl. — NO. 182. 16

182 Thompson's history of bostox. [Jan.

1627, and resigned a seat in the Board of Aldermen on the eve
of his embarkation. He filled and adorned places in the Col-
ony corresponding to those which had been awarded him in
the land of his birth.

Three years after Mr. Cotton's emigration, there came to
New England Rev. Samuel Whiting, son of John Whiting,
who had been Mayor of Boston, and whose family had ap-
peared on the municipal records for more than three centnries.
Mr. Whiting became the first minister of Lynn. He was
distinguished for the elegance of his Latin composition in an
age when the Latin was almost a vernacular tongue among
the learned, and for his Hebrew scholarship at a period when
sermons were not infrequently garnished with texts in crude
Hebrew. Nor was he less eminent for the amiableness of his
disposition and the sanctity of his life. Of his sons, one was
the first minister of Billerica; a second, after taking his de-
gree at Harvard University, returned to England, and became
Rector of Leverton ; and a third was his father's colleague and
successor in the ministry. In the next generation of the same
family was Rev. John Whiting, the second minister of Con-
cord. The English branches of the family arc now extinct;
the transplanted scion still flourishes, and bears in its veins
the flavor derived from the parent stock.

Edmund Quincy came to America with Mr. Cotton, whose
weight of character and influence can have no higher attesta-
ti 'ti than in the number and worth of those who joined him
as eompanions of his exile. The Quincy family was an an-
cient and numerous family in Tiincolnshire, and Edmund emi-
grated from the village of Fishtoft, near Boston. He was the
ancestor of our many distinguished compatriots who have
borne and still bear his name, as also of John Quincy Adams
and Chief Justice Cranch.

Many other names of well-known families of early date in
our own city are familiar in the English Boston, thus ren-
dering it in the highest degree probable that in the choice
of a name for the capital of the Bay Colony, though the tran-
scendent merit of the first minister was the ostensible motive,
the fond remembrances and home yearnings of many of his
flock may have borne part.

1859.1

THOMPSOirS HISTORY OF BOeTOIT.

183

We havG no space to enter upon the history of the neigh-
boring villages, each of which has ita antiquities, its quaint
and carious records, its eleemoiiynary foundations, and its
peculiar features of interest. Nor can we follow our author
in the history of the Lincolnshire fens, which, from little else
than a vast marsh, infested by legendary dragons, and the
theatre for the heroism of fabulous dragon-slayers, have been
so far reclaimed by scientific and costly drainage, as to be
studded with thriving villages, and to furnish a rich virgin
soil for agriculture. The whole valley of the Witham, and
the sea-coast for many miles on either side of its mouth, pre-
sent many features analogous to those of Holland, and large
districts have been redeemed for human habitancy and tilth
by the same means by w^hich the Dutch won their territory
from the ocean. The success which has thus far attended the
enterprise gives sure presage of the fuUllmeiit of the predic-
tion made by Dr. Stukely in 1724: — ** I doubt not but some
time the whole bay between Lincolnshire and Norfolk (being
one of our great sovereign's noblest chambers in his British
dominions over the sea) will become dry laud.'*

We have done very imperfect justice to the work under
review. Its materials are, many of them, such as have vivid
interest in silu^ but as miscellaneous excerpts would only
weary and repel the reader. The book as a whole presents
the topography and history of the town and district in a pan-
oramic view, which one may transfer to the mental retina as
a finished picture, while the details out of their grouping
would lose their individuality. The volume gives us an elab-
orately drawn section of English history, society, and institu-
tions,—a microcosm typical of that macrocosm which we call
our fatherland* It is not a book to be read through and laid
aside, — no one would read it through ; but it would be taken
from the shelf year after year with new zest, and could hardly
be opened at any page without offering that which would at-
tract and reward perusal. Especially sliould it be in the hands
of cultivated and inquiring men in our own city, and we trust
that at their hands, as near bis own home, Mr. Thompson may
receive the substantial honor and reward which his indefatiga-
ble diligence in research, and his excellent taste in selection
and compilation, so well deserve.

184 BIBLE REVISION. [Jan.

Art. VII. — 1. Hints for some Improvements in the Authorized
Version of the New Testament. By the late Rev. James
SciioLKFiELD, M. A., Rcgius Professor of Greek in the Uni-
versity of Cambridge. Fourth Edition. Cambridge and
I^ondon. 1857.

2. Ofi the Authorized Version of the New Testament^ in Connect
tion with some recent Proposals for its Revision, By Richard
Chenevix Trench, D.D., Dean of Westminster. (Reprint.)
New York. 1858.

3. The Gospel according to St. John^ after the Authorized Ver-
sion. Newly compared with the Original Greeky and revised.
By Five Clergymen [viz. John Barrow, D. D., George
MoBERLY, D. C. L., Henry Alford, B. D., William Q.
Humphry, B. D., Charles J. Ellicott, M. A.]. London.
1857.

4. The Epistle of Paul to the Romans ^ after the Authorized VcT'
sion. Newly compared with the Original Greeks and revised
By Five Clergymen. London. 1858.

5. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St. PauPs Epis-
tle to the Galatia)iSj with a Revised Translation. By C. J.
Ellicott, M. A. London. 1854.

6. A Critical ami Grammatical Commentary on St. PauPs Epis^
tie to the Ephesians, ivith a Reinsed Translation. By the
same. London. 1855.

7. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on the Pastoral
Epistles, irith a Revised Translation. By the same. Lon-
don. 1856.

8. A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St. PauPs EpiS'
ties to the Philippians, Colossians, and to Philemon, with a
Revised Translation. By the same. London. 1857.

9. The Book of Jobj the Covimon English Version, the Hebrew
Text, and the Revised Version of the American Bible Union^
with Critical and Philological Notes. New York. 1856.

10. The Epistles of Paul to the Thessalonians ; translated from
the Greek, on the Basis of the Common English Version, with
Notes. New York : American Bible Union. 1856.

Two centuries and a half have nearly elapsed since " The

1859.]

LE REVISION.

185

Holy Bible, containing the Old Testament and the New,
newly translated out of the Original Tongues, and with the
Former Translations diligently compared and revised, by his
Majesty's special Commandment," was ^* appointed to be read
in churches.** For nearly half a century it had to struggle
with a lingering attachment to one of the " former transla-
tions " But from the Restoration, in 1660, to the present
hour, the Bible of 1611 has been the most authentic expres-
sion of the Word of God to the mass of Christians speaking
the English tongue. It has been domesticated by emigratiou
on every continent. The earlier versions have become anti-
quated, and newer ones have been either shamed into oblivion,
or allowed, at best, to be helps in the study of this. This is
" the English Bible,*^ while others are barely Bibles in English.
In this respect its fate diflers noticeably from that of its prede-
cessors* Within a century before its appearance no less than
six versions or revisions of the Bible in English had been pub-
lished, one of which was but slowly superseded by it. But it
has found no successor. It has come down through all the
changes of time, unaffected by the greatest revolutions, attract-
ing to itself an increasing measure of veneration and love. It
has taught letters to children, eloquence to men, religion to
all. In literature it is our great English classic. In religion
it is our *' daily bread."

This more than classic pre-eminence is due to various caus-
es. The preceding century had been an era of great mental
and moral activity, directed by religious motives or in the
name of religion* The politics of Europe sprang from refor-
mation and counter-reformation in the Church. Theology as
yet was not only the noblest, but almost the only science.
The standard of Biblical scholarahip w^as high, relatively
much higher than at present* But with the seventeenth cen-
tury began the f^tirring of those secular agitations, which have
seldom slept since, and arc still active. From the civil war to
the settlement of the Hanoverian succession, politics ruled in
the Church quite as much as the Church ruled in politics, A
kind of leadership was demanded that asked little aid from sa-
cred learning. This became the occupation of here and there
a scholar, whose achievements received about as intelligent ad-
16-

186 BIBLE REVISION. [Jan.

miration from the majority of his clerical brethren as the poly-
glot attainments of our '< Learned Blacksmith " may be anp-
posed to have excited among his fellow-craftsmen. What
little learning the eighteenth century gave to the cause of
Christianity in England was chiefly expended upon apologet-
ics, and at its close both theology and criticism had sunk to a
very low estate. The great Evangelical revival which followed
the birth of Methodism, indeed, made religion once more a
power in society. But this was the fruit of devotion rather
than of learning, and relied for its success upon the impres-
sion of those elementary spiritual truths which no erudite re-
search is requisite, or even able of itself, to discover. A few
great names, as of Mill, Lowth, and Campbell, light up what
is mainly an age of decline in critical learning. The work of
Bit^lc translation naturally came to a stand. The authors of
the received version laid, indeed, no claim to the credit of in-
fallibility. They were only improving on the work of their
predecessors. They professed to have made "honest and
Christian endeavors " after " a more exact translation." There
is no reason to suppose that they expected their own work to
be exempt from a similar revising process, or ever flattered
themselves with the hope that it would receive the unqualified
veneration of ages. But there was at first no demand for
improvement, and afterwards there were few who could have
answered the demand had it been made. Thus time was
given for its words to sink into men's hearts, till they have
come to fashion the very texture of thought.

But it would be unjust to represent its extraordinary success
as due wholly or mainly to accidental causes. Its great excel-
lence is a more evident and more honorable reason. The era
at which it was made was most fortunate for its merits and
its fame. The " old masters " of our literature had moulded
and enriched our rude vernacular, and made it for mingled
strength and sweetness the noblest of modern languages. Re-
peated attempts at translation, by men who were among the
choicest spirits of their times, and the compilation of the Book
of Common Prayer, had done for the English what the Sev-
enty, the Jewish philosophers, and the Christian Apostles and
Fathers did for the Greek, and what TertuUian and Cyprian

BtBtiir REVISION.

187

did for the Latin tongue. A doctrinal and devotional dialect
was formed, — ^a fit medium for expressing those ideas which
Divine inspiration had brought within the reach of human in*
telligencG, — and this dialect became the common property of
the people. The translators of King James were late enough
to secure the ripe fruit of these invaluable labors. They were
equally fortunate in being early enough to escape those influ-
ences which have made our language at once more ductile to
the varied purposes of modern usage, and less fitted for the
highest offices of eloquence, poetry, and devotion. More than
all, they lived when the martyr age of English Protestantism
was fresh in memory. The words of the old Bibles which
they "compared and revised'' were not only English unde^
filed, but English hallowed by the intense religious earnest-
ness of the men who wrote them, — men who plied their pious
task in prison or in exile, with visions of the rack and the
»takc interposed between them and their heavenly consumraa*
tion. Our English Bible is the Bible as interpreted by schol-
ars who represented the best learning of a learned age, and
whose characters were formed under the influence of a piety
refined in the fiery furnace of persecution. Its diction, if not
faultless, is yet the best example of the power and compass
of our language. It has come to us without essential amend-
ment, because its great positive excellences have caused its
defects and blemishes to be viewed with more than the ten-
derness that forgives the faults of a beloved friend.

To this general sentiment there have been some illustrious
exceptions ; but the utter listlessness with which the public have
received all suggestions of revising the version must have been
discouraging to their authors. After men of the calibre of
Lowth, Kennicott, Newe^mbe, Waterland, Wesley, and Camp-
bell have declared in decided terms their conviction that great
improvements might be made in it, to the signal advantage of
religion, and their words have failed to awaken the slightest
audible echo, it might have seemed that the English Bible,
faults and all, had been accepted by English-speaking Protes-
tants ** for better, for worse," to the end of time. Had any
one predicted, as lately as ten years ago, that by tlits time
Bofficient public interest would be felt in the project of revjs-

188 BIBLE BBVisiON. [Jan.

ing our translation to call forth works, such as are named at
the beginning of this article (to say nothing of many others,
with the enumeration of whose titles it seemed not worth
while to cumber the page), to call into existence large socie-
ties, with funds liberally provided by popular contribution,
and to engage the co-operation of some, and the respectfnl
attention of more, of the best Biblical scholars on either side
of the Atlantic, he would have been pronounced a visionary.
Yet such is the fact It may be that the present agitation
will subside, with no other result than an increased tenacity
of attachment to our Bible as it is; but it seems evident
that this conclusion will be resisted by many until they can
at least understand "the reason why." Possibly some will
be more disposed to inquire why the question is raised at all,
and what can be the occasion of so unexpected a degree of
interest in its discussion at this time. If we believed it to be
one of those epidemics of public caprice to which we seem to
be increasingly liable, we could afford to leave it, with other
ephemera, to those who " spend their time in nothing else bat
either to tell or to hear some new thing." But such, we are
satisfied, is not the fact. It is a serious question to many
minds, and among them some of the first minds in England
and America, whether it is not our duty to endeavor to make
the best version of the Scriptures still better. The interests
involved in the determination of this question are too impor-
tant to allow it to pass without a candid and deliberate in-
quiry into its merits.

The apparent cause of the movement was humble enough,
— a schism in the " American and Foreign Bible Society," an
organization originated by a secession of the main body of
the Baptists from the support of the American Bible Society.
The denomination was by no means a unit in the action by
which a rival society was organized, and in 1850 that society
was itself rent asunder by a proposition to publish an amend-
ed version of the New Testament in the English language.
Thus originated the American Bible Union, having for its
object the revision of the English Scriptures and the publica-
tion of " pure versions" in other languages. It might well be
thought, as it was by most lookers-on, that this division and

1859.] BIBLB E»?T8T(>N,

subdivision of a denomination, on what seemed to be merely
a question of sectarian policy, could have no effect on the
Christian public at large, nor any good effect upon those im-
mediately concerned in it But from this inauspicious begin-
ning a new impulse has been given to the purpose of revising
our Scriptures. What was before only an aspiration of indi-
viduals, has become a matter of popular interest. Men like the
late Professor Scholefield and Archdeacon Hare had modestly
suggested the desirableness of an amended version, without
any sensible effect But the announcement that what had
been only desiderated was actually to be attempted, had the
effect to give courage to some who had hardly ventured to
speak, and to arouse others who might have been indifferent
The question has come to enlist the attention of numbers who
know very little of the history or movements of the American
Bible Union, until such scholars as Dean Trench and the Five
Clergymen think it no condescension to look into the matter.
So far as we can judge by the most obvious indications, the
interest is more general in England than in this country. We
see no evidence that there is in either country a very numer-
ous party in favor of the measure ; but it has more friends
than the most sanguine would have looked for a few years
ago.

For such a turn of opinion it is evident that some other
cause must be sought than the sectarian activity of a fraction
of a sect. That, of itself, would have tended to make the
whole matter odious. If there were not a feeling extensively
diffused, a train laid which needed only a spark to kindle it»
there would have been no such kindling as we now witness.
And whoever will attentively consider the condition and ten-
dencies of Biblical study for the last thirty years, and its rela-
tions to popular religious instruction, cannot fail to observe
an unconscious preparation for the entertainment of this ques-
tion. So far from wondering at the popular interest which,
as Dean Trench observes, *' differences the present agitation of
the matter from preceding ones," we might rather have an-
ticipated an earlier and more general attention to it, at least
in this country.

The depressed state of critical learning in England during

190 BiBLB BEVisiON. [Jan.

the last century had its counterpart here, but from a different
cause. The influence of President Edwards turned nearly
all the more active thinkers on religion to the pursuit of meta-
physical theology. His great doctrinal treatises on the Will
and on Original Sin, and his most important practical worki
on the Religious Affections, alike and almost equally invited
thoughtful men from study of the written revelation to sera-
tiny of their own souls. Not that Edwards was wanting in
reverence for the Scriptures, or in the proper mental and spir-
itual aptitudes for their successful interpretation. But his own
experience and the stress of circumstances concurred to give
his powers another direction, and the immense force which he
exerted upon his contemporaries and the rising ministry de-
termined most aspiring minds into the same line. Thence
arose that school of New England theology, whose direct
development may be said to have been brought to its ultimate
result by the clear insight and dauntless logic of Emmons.
But an influence had been meanwhile arising in another quar-
ter, and preparing to work a complete revolution. The Ger-
man mind began to come into communication with that of
England and America. Much as our Teutonic cousins have
to answer for in some respects, especially for the unbelieving
and irreverent spirit which too many of their scholars have
exhibited, giving to their productions a decided flavor of the
tree of the knowledge of good and evil, we owe them a
weighty debt of gratitude. It is not extravagant to say that
they have re-created the science of criticism. Whatever ad-
vance has been recently made in Biblical learning, in Great
Britain or America, has been made under an impulse given
by them. Under their leadership the original languages of
Scripture have been investigated anew, and great light has
been shed upon them from the comparison of languages and
dialects. Scripture history and antiquities have been explored
with a vigor before unthought of. The East has been visited
by pilgrims who surveyed its geographical monuments with
more instructed eyes than those of monks or sentimental tour-
ists. Comparative criticism has done much towards restoring
an authentic text of the New Testament. Materials are now
available for a more exact interpretation of the Scriptures than

1859.]

BiBLB BBvieiair.

was possible to the best scholars of the seventeenth century.
And there are scholars to use them with effect. He who com*
pares the commentaries now carrent wiih what were deemed,
fifty years ago, the most valuable helps to clerical study in the
English language, whatever merits of the old-school annotators
he may miss, cannot fail to recognize the fruits of a more gen-
erous culture than was known in the last or attainable in any
preceding age. The effect of this progress has not been con-
fmcd to any narrow class of learned men. It has pervaded
the religious community. Not that all the people or all the
clergy are advanced scholars, but scholarship is more wor*
thily appreciated by both. Higher qualifications are sought
by candidates for the ministry, and are demanded by the
laity. By a happy coincidence, simultaneously with this re-
vival of interest in sacred learning, there has taken place
among us a revival (to use a technical terra in a wider than
it« technical sense) of experimental and practical religion,
awakening a greater zeal for the diffusion and enforcement of
spiritual truth. The Biblical instruction of the young has
come to be more systematically pursued. An impulse has
been given to the creation of a Biblical literature for the peo-
ple. The amount and increasing value of popular w^orks for
the aid of Bible-students can hardly be estimated by one w*ho
has not had occasion to observe with some care their number
and character.

In these general statements we are anxious to be understood
as speaking comparatively, and in contrast with the condition
of things in the past. Tried by a standard of absolute excel-
lence, comparing what is accomplished with what is desirable
or ideally possible, we ** have not attained.'* Or, if we inquire
whether the men of our time have improved their advantages
as faithfully as the men of the seventeenth century did theirs,
it may appear that we have nothing to boast of. By as much
as the materials for sound critical knowledge have been mul-
tiplied, by so much are our scholars held to a stricter account*
ability for their use. Still, — and this is all that concerns our
present purpose, — ^it is certain that the English version, after
the lapse of more than two hundred years, does not adequately
represent what is known of the meaning of the Scriptures.

192 BIBLE BEVisiON. [Jan.

Now, without intending such an effect, and very generally
without being aware of it, the votaries of sacred learning have
been criticising our version, and making its imperfections no-
torious. Any interpretation of the original which involves a
departure from the sense of the English text, is a criticism of
the latter, whether formally stated or not Every theological
seminary is a college of revisers. The professors teach, and
the pupils study, the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures. The ver-
nacular Bible is not expressly disparaged, nor even irreverently
thought of, but as an authority it is quietly act aside. The
commentaries referred to are founded on the original, not on
the translated Scriptures. This tendency affects all depart-
ments of study. The instructor in systematic theology most
go behind the translation of his proof-texts. The lecturer on
church polity must define €/c/c\7jaia, and investigate anew the
passages touching the offices and duties of bishops, elders, and
deacons. The youthful theologues carry with them into the
tninistry the habits acquired in the divinity school. A sensi-
ble preacher will of course avoid pedantic displays of learning
in the pulpit But if he is an honest man, he cannot promul-
gate what he believes to be erroneous interpretations of the
Word of God. Whether he quotes Greek in his sermons or
not, his people will soon find out that their pastor does not
regard the English version as inspired. Dr. Trench seems to
suppose that this thought would be a novelty to the mass of
the people. He says : —

*• Wc must never leave out of siglit tliat for a great multitude of read-
ers the English Version is not the translation of an inspired Book, but

is il<elf the inspired Book The English Bible is to them all

which the Hebrew Old Testament, which the Greek New Testament,
is to tlie devout scholar. It receives from them the same undoubting
alliance. Tliey have never realized the fact that the Divine utterance
was not made at the first in those very English words which they read
in their cottages, and hear in their church." — pp. 174, 175.

These remarks may be just, as applied to rural congrega-
tions in England, but they are of very limited application here.
If the title-pages of their Bibles and Testaments did not hint
to them the existence of certain "original tongues" and of
" former translations," the people would be at no loss to find

1859.] BIBLE REVISION. 193

out the fact in other ways. Even in England, judging by the
practice of eminent divines, men must be exceedingly dull of
hearing to escape information on this point. Archbishop
Whately, in his " Lectures addressed to his Parishioners by a
CJountry Pastor," is profuse of amended translations, some of
them extremely felicitous. Instances of the same freedom
appear in the sermons of William Archer Butler. In the
Occasional Sermons of Dr. John Harris we find a discourse,
the text of which is stated as follows : —

" Rom. i. 16, 17 : ^For lam not ashamed of the gospel of Christ : for
it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that helteveth ' ; —
it is that through which the power of God is manifested in saving
every one that believes — * to the Jew first ' — to him it is offered in
the first instance — *and aho to the Greek* — or Gentile. ^ For
therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith ' —
therein is revealed to our faith the doctrine of justification, or accept-
ance with God — of interest in a Divine righteousness, acquired by
faith alone. ^As it is written ' — in the Old Testament — * the just by
faith shall live.' " — p. 1.

Here, besides the mixture of exposition, the careful reader
will notice that in the last clause the words '^ by faith " are
made to connect themselves grammatically with ^*ju8t,"
which is used as equivalent to the participle justified^ giving
to the clause this meaning, — " he who is justified by faith
shall live."

While the minister is thus engaged in amending the trans-
lation, and publishing his emendations from the pulpit, the
people are favored with more elaborate essays to the same
purpose in the books they study. The most popular com-
mentaries interpret the original Scriptures. Professor Bush's
learned notes on the Pentateuch, thickly studded with He-
brew and Rabbinical quotations, (each duly rendered into
English,) are designed ^< for popular use." Mr. Barnes's notes
on the entire New Testament, and on several important books
of the Old Testament, were avowedly composed for common
readers of the Bible, and in some of them nearly every verse
is re-translated. Of these and similar works, thousands of
copies are circulated. They are found all over the land, in
the possession of teachers and advanced pupils in Sunday

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 17

194 BIBLE BEYisiON. [Jan.

schools. New contributions to the stock of popular exposi-
tory works are made every year, and it is noticeable that they
are increasingly critical in their character. The authors os-
tensibly comment on the received version, but they are in fact
superseding it by their own independent translations. We
recently watched with interest a group of young persons
studying their Sabbath lesson, guided by a <^ question-booky"
and aided by a volume of notes on the New Testament
They studied socially, one reading a question aloud, and the
others searching for an answer. The commentator whose
notes they used had evidently written from a study of the
Greek. For half an hour we listened in vain for evidence
that they once looked at the thin margin of text at the top of
his pages. So far from making the English Bible the object
of study, they did not pay it the compliment of a reference.
We believe that this scene was only an example of what is
going on weekly in places innumerable.*

Is it surprising, then, that the proposal to revise our version,
so as to add to its other excellences the merit of more faith-
fully exhibiting the meaning of the sacred writers, should be
received with increasing favor ? The only object of a trans-
lation is to convey the meaning of the original to those who
are unable to read it for themselves ; and if men are taught
that the version in their hands fails to do this, it would seem
that their most obvious conclusion must be in favor of a new
or corrected version. This is in fact just such a proposal as
is most likely to be received with approbation by the popular
iniiul. It is only men of rare scholarship who are able so to
comprehend the work of translation as to appreciate its diffi-
culties. Common minds know nothing of this, but they are
abundantly capable of understanding the desirableness of the
object. If they believe the Bible to contain the Word of
CJod, they have the higiiest possible interest in its contents.

* A n^mi^-tc^ of the Baptist denomination, p'nduatod at a New England col-
Icjxo, ]»ro|»osed at iiTut \o outer the ministry, as many of liis brethren have done,
witlioiit t\ special lhcoIo;;ical and exoKetinil course of study. His purpose was
dmu«;cd in consequiMice of the rmharrasument \w experienced from his ignorance
of tl»o Hebrew lanj;uiiu'e, in trying to instruct n Hililc-dass of young men out of
tho Old Testament. He liad connuontaricii. — )mt so had they.

1859.]

BIBLE BE^^ISION,

195

and cannot be indifferent to the question whether it is
accurately translated. An erroneous version is worse than
none, for it may mitilead them. A defective version is
diminished in value in proportion to the amount of defect
with which it is chargeable. Such men would not be prone
to suspe(^ the authenticity of the common translation, and
would never have originated a movement for correcting it.
But the matter once brought to their notice, it is naturally
seized upon and tenaciously adhered to* They are likely to
be far more incredulous of difficulties. "What I'* we have
heard an unlettered Christian exclaim, **do you say that our
version cannot be made better? You think yourself able to
correct it, and have often done so. The commentaries you
study correct it. You are all of you ready enough to do this
for yourselves, why can you not do it for us ? " The history
of the American Bible Union is instructive in this respect
When first organized, it made a schism in the denomination
in which it originated. Against it were arrayed their most
respectable scholars, their most popular and influential preach-
ers, their literary and theological seminaries, and the principal
presses under their control, while other churches and sects
looked on with mingled pity and disgust But the people in
considerable numbers gathered around it, and have sustained
it It^ treasury has been well supplied with funds, and its
operations have hardly been impeded for a day* Its influence
has overleaped sectarian boundaries. Men of high and de-
served reputation, who were hostile or indiflerent, have come
to identify themselves with the enterprise. It has not indeed
attained to a flattering popularity. The opposition to it is
very great. But it is steadily gaining friends. The move-
ment, though not rapid, is mainly in the direction towards
success. We see nothing in experience, or in present indica*
tions, to justify the belief that it is likely to be arrested by
anything short of a demonstration that the end pursued is
unattainable. That organization may not endure, but the
agitation in some form will continue.

What duty is imposed upon us by this state of facts ? It

seems to us very clear, that we cannot and ought not to rest

^content with things as they are, but that the duty and re-

196 BIBLB REVISION. [Jt

sponsibility of at least attempting a revision most be meti
It may be an unwelcome, as it must be a difficult duty. We
might perhaps prefer that the question had never been raised.
But it is here, and it claims to be soberly dealt with. It is not
by the American Bible Union, nor Mr. EUicott, nor any other
man or body of men, that the necessity is laid ^pon ns,
but by Divine Providence, by the inflexible logic of events.
Whether we will or no, we are fast tending towards a state
of things in which the English Bible, as it is, must part with
a portion of the reverence in which it has been held. It is
still the family Bible, the Church Bible, the closet Bible, the
spring of holy and consoling thoughts, the storehouse of
sacred eloquence, the inspirer and the liturgy of prayer and
praise. But it is not, in the degree in which it once was, the
authoritative Scripture. It is not, or it is fast ceasing to be,
the minister's study Bible. It is not the book which the com-
mentator expounds. With every advance in the popularizing
of Biblical interpretation, it must come to be less and less le*
garded as the real source of popular religious instruction*
How long can this process go on, and not withdraw from it,
to a very injurious extent, the reverence of the people?

The duty of revision, we have said, and the word was not
lightly chosen. This is a matter which rises infinitely above
any question of inclination or taste. If our vernacular Bible
were merely a book of English literature, a proposal to
attempt an improvement upon it might well excite astonish-
ment. All that is so often said of the tender and venerable
associations connected with it, and of its preciousness as an
English classic, would be in place. But when we receive it
as a book of religious authority, we can accept it in that
character only as it conveys to us the true meaning of the
inspired original. If the version is imperfect, and its imper-
fections are remediable, there is a presumptive obligation to
amend it. The burden rests upon those who resist, to prove
that revision is either unnecessary or impracticable. This
seems to be forgotten by some, who exclaim against "innova-
tion," as if they really believed that King James's Bible was
older than the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures. The words of
Dean Trench on this point are very much to the purpose: —

1^%]

BIBLB KB^

197

** Nothing is gained, on the one hani by vague and general charges
of inaccuracy brought against our Version ; they require to be sup-
ported by detailed proofs. Nothing, on the other band, is gained bj
charges and insinuations against those who urge a revision, as though
they desired to undermine the foundations of the religious lite and
faitii of England, . • , . As little is the matter advantaged, or in any
way brought nearer to a settlement, by sentimental appeals to the fact
that this, which it is now proposed to aJter, has been the Scripture of
our childhood, in which we, and so many generations before us, first
received the tidings of everlasting life. All this, well as it may de-
serve to be considered, yet, as argument at all deciding the question,
will sooner or later have to be cleared away ; and the facts of the case,
apart from cries, and msinuations, and suggestions of evil motives, and
appeals to the religious passions and prejudices of the day, — apart,
too, from feelings which in themselves demand the highest respect, —
will have to be dealt with in that spirit of seriousness and earnestness
which a matter aiFecting so profoundly the whole moral and spiritual
life of the English people, not to speak of nations wliich are yet un-
born, abundantly deserves." — pp* 10, 11.

As to the first of the positions indicated, — that revision is
unnecessary, — though very commonly taken, we must re-
gard it as a strange one to be so much as admitted by Protes-
tant Christians, We are told tbat, although our version is in
some points inaccurate or obscure, there are no ** grave and
es^ntial errors'* in it. " The scholar can resort to the origi-
nal, and, if need be, communicate to others the results of his
studies.'* • " The rule of faith '• for the laity, then, is to be,
not the Scriptures, but the Scriptures plus the priest or " doc-
tor." We are concerned to know by what gauge any part of
a Divine revelation is ascertained to be superllaous. We
should* presume that the teachings of Scripture concerning
the fntore state deserve to be ranked among those of the
greatest moment. Is there no ambiguity in the language of
our version on that subject, which might be removed by a
more accurate translation ? It happens by a curious, almost
a whimsical, conjunction of opposites, that this sort of apology
for errors of translation comes oftenest from men who hold to
the verbal inspiration of the Bible. A distinguished theo-

198 BIBLE REVisiOK. [Jan.

logian of the Presbyterian Church, who has been conspicnons
in denouncing a departure from even the punctuation and
chapter-headings — why not the spelling also ? — of King
James's translators, holds the following language : —

<< We can understand how a man can regard the Bible as a mere
human composition ; wc can understand how he can regard inspiration
as a mere elevation of the religious consciousness ; but how any <Hie
con hold that the sacred writers were inspired as to their thoughts, but
not as to their language, is to us perfectly incomprehensible. The de-
nial of verbal inspiration is, in our view, the denial of aU inspiration, in
the Scriptural sense of the doctrine. No man can have a wordless
thought, any more tlian there can be a formless flower. By a law of
our present constitution, we think in words, and, as far as our conscious-
ness goes, it is as impossible to infuse thoughts into the mind without
woids, as it Ls to bring men into tlie world without bodies."

Whether He with whom that is possible which is impossi-
ble with man, may not bring to pass more things than are
dreamed of in our philosophy ; whether every doctrine which
is incomprehensible is therefore false ; whether the verity of
inspiration may not be assured to us, though the manner be
hidden ; and other questions suggested by this quotationi — *
cannot be now and here discussed. But we may observei
that whoever thinks thus of the words of the Bible assumes a
fearful responsibility in consenting for a moment, unless under
the restraint of an unconquerable necessity, that one of them
should be obscured or misrepresented. To all such, as to
every man who believes the Bible to be verily a Divine gift,
we commend the solemn words of Mr. Ellicott: —

" If we arc truly and heartily i)ersuadc<l that there arc errors and
inaccuracies in our version ; if we know that, though by far the best and
mo-t faithful translation the world has ever seen, it still shares the im-
peril'i.*t ions that belong to every human work, however noble and ex-
alted ; if we feel and know that these imperfections arc no less patent
than remediable, — then surely it is our duty to Ilim who gave that
blessed Word for the guidance of man, through evil report and through
good report to Libor by gentle counsels to supply what is lacking and
correct what \^ amiss, to render what has been blessed with great
measures of perfection yet more peifect, and to hand it down thus
marked with our reverential love and solicitude, as the best and most
blessed heritane we have to leave to them who shall follow us.

1859.] BIBLB BBVISION. 199

^ It is in vain to cheat our own souls with the thought that these
errors are either insignificant or imaginaiy. There are errors, there
art inaccuracies, there are misconceptions, there are obscurities, not
indeed so many in number or so grave in character as the forward
spirits of our day would persuade us of, — but there are misrepresen-
tations of the language of the Holy Ghost, and that man who, afler
being in any degree satisfied of this, permits himself to lean to the
counsels of a timid or popular obstructiveness, or who, intellectually
unable to test the truth of these allegations, nevertheless permits him-
self to denounce or deny them, will, if they be true, most surely, at the
dread day of final account, have to sustain the tremendous charge of
having dealt deceitfully with the inviolable Word of God." — On the
Pastoral EpMes^ Fref., p. xii.

Detailed proof of those imperfections in our version, on ac-
count of which a revision is called for, cannot of course be
offered within the limits of a review article. Specimens of
them are given in the works of Dr. Trench and Professor
Scholefield, and are wisely and temperately discussed. But
if we may so far presume on the interest of our readers in
this subject, we may be able to set the importance of the
measure in a clearer light, by indicating the nature of the
amendments sought, with a few brief specifications. In mak-
ing these criticisms, we are not to be understood as censuring
the translators. A part of the defects charged belong to their
age, and not to themselves. Expressions which are now obso-
lete were then current, and they could not foresee nor provide
against the changes of time. Some of their errors arose from
the fact that they were not making a new version, but revis-
ing older ones, and their vigilance was sometimes intermitted.
In other cases we have an advantage over them from the
progress that has since been made in the knowledge of Bibli-
cal philology and antiquities, for which we can afford to be
thankful without being censorious. And if inadvertences
appear for which we cannot account, it will be time enough
to indulge severity of judgment when we forget that we also
are fallible men. But we cannot so readily acquit ourselves,
if, through mistaken reverence for them, we suffer their work
to continue defaced, and subject to needless disparagement.

Of imperfections which were not such when the version

300 BIBLE RBVisiON. [Jan.

was made, but are due to the changes of time, the occnirence
of obsolete words, and of current words in obsolete senses, is
among the most obvious. Thus we have <' fray," meaning to
frighten; "daysman," an umpire; "leasing," lies; **ear," to
till; "to wit," to know] the last occurring in that very awk-
ward expression, " we do you to wit," for we make known to yoik
This class of words is not very numerous, but is enough so,
taking into account the frequency of their occurrence, to con-
stitute a noticeable blemish, and one easily removed. The
errors occasioned by changes of signification in words are
more serious. Instances that will readily occur to the dis*
criminating reader are " conversation " in the sense of de-
portment, " honest " for decent, or becoming, " worship " for
civil respect. Most readers probably understand that, when
Christians are called " a peculiar people," the phrase imports
their duty to manifest a character distinguished in a marked
degree from that of worldly or irreligious men. It really ex-
presses property or ownership, and is only another method of
saying that they are " not their own." " Vengeance," as used
by our translators, is generally equivalent to punitive justice.
" Is God unrighteous thai taketh vengeance [who punishes] ? "
We must think it no unimportant matter that " the Judge of
all the earth " is represented to common readers as awarding
justice in a revengeful spirit. Here should be noticed obso-
lete grammatical forms, such as the confounding of ** who "
and "which," and the use of "his" for "its,"^ — a word not
current in the seventeenth century. In regard to words that
offend by their grossness, it is difficult in this over-squeamish
age to lay down any certain rule. But we suppose it will be
generally admitted that our version of the Old Testament is
disfigured by an unnecessary coarseness of expression, which
impairs the pleasure of reading it, and which could be abated
without any serious loss of precision or energy. The ob-
scurity arising from inconsistency in the rendering of proper
names, by which, for example, Elijah in the Old Testament
becomes Elias in the New, Hosea becomes Osee, and Joshua
is translated into Jesus, is sometimes perplexing, and in the
last-named instance positively misleading, as in Hebrews iv.8.
Of errors, or inconsistencies, in translation we can give but

1859.]

BIBLE REVISIOIf*

201

a few examples. The treatment of idiomatic peculiarities by
our translators is fruitfal of embarrassment, Hebraisms are
generally resolved into equivalent English expressions, but are
sometimes literally translated. Thus the use of a dependent
noun instead of an adjective is sometimes retained in the
translation, oftencr turned into idiomatic English. We have
"his holy hill," and 'Hhe mountain of his holiness," the
Hebrew being the same in both cases. When this usage is
extended to the literal translation of such a phrase as " the
right hand of my righteousness/' the sense is obscured.
Sometimes a Hebraism is imagined where none exists, as in
the expression, '* the liberty of the glory of the children of
God," which is rendered " the glorious liberty," without suffi*
cient reason. The word " son," which by a frequent Oriental*
ism is used to express almost any relation of persons or
things, generally gives place to the word or phrase that cor-
responds to it in English* '* Son of the bow " is properly
rendered " arrow," and so in very numerous cases. But we
have " son of Belial,*' "son of peace," " son of consolation "
phrases nearly as unintelligible in themselves as those that are
more rationally treated. To this category belong certain He-
braisms which are at once unintelligible and repulsive to us.

The neglect of the definite article, sometimes omitting it
where it is found in the Greek, and again inserting it without
authority, weakens, and occasionally perverts, the meaning of
tile New Testament An instance of omission occurs in
Romans v. 15 : " For if through the ofience of (the) one (the)
many be dead, much more the grace of God by (the) one
man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto (the) many." An
instance of improper insertion is to be noticed in the same
Epistle, U. 14: " For when (the) Gentiles, which have not the
law, do by nature the things contained in the law," &c. The
Apostle does not say that the Gentiles, as a whole, do this,
but Gentiles, some of thera. By their error in this respect,
our translators have much obscured an important distinction.
In the Gospels Christ is usually not a name, but a title, and
has the article. In the Epistles it passes into a proper name,
and is generally without the article. The reason is plain.
Jesus claimed to be the Messiah, He who was to come. But

202 BIBLE REVI8I0K. [Jan.

the Apostles assume it as demonstrated that he was the Mes-
siah, and use the title thenceforth as a strictly personal appel-
lation. Common readers are in danger of understanding the
question, "What think ye of Christ?" as equivalent to
" What do you think of me? " rather than, as it is, " What ia
your view of the Messiah ? " — what sort of a personage do
you look for ? Negligence in the rendering of words on which
the whole sense of some passage turns, though not very fre-
quent, is sufficiently so to perplex the reader. In RomanSi
chapter iv., Xoyl^ofiai occurs eleven times. It is twice ren-
dered <' count," three times " reckon," and six times " impute.''
How much greater clearness would have been imparted to
the reasoning by adhering to a single English word wherever
the term occurs! Dean Trench (pp. 69-83) enumerates sev-
eral striking examples of this. We might add instances of
error or obscurity arising from confusion in respect to the
tenses of verbs and the force of prepositions ; but as the ut-
most that is possible within reasonable limits of space would
afford only slight glimpses of a very extensive prospecti it
may be wise to forbear.

Now who will say that accuracy in these points is of small
consequence ? If the reader merely gained by revision supe-
rior clearness of narrative, considering how much of the
Scriptures consists of narrative, this would be of no small
advantage. But the profit would be even more striking in
those books which are doctrinal, whose verses are citadels for
the possession of which whole armies of controversialists
have almost literally fought There is something more than
a verbal difference between the expression (Romans iii. 25),
" for the remission," and the more correct " on account of the
passing by " of past sins ; between " if one died for all, then
were all dead," (2 Cor. v. 14,) and the more literal " then all
died." In such cases we are reviewing ground trampled by
polemic warfare and also watered with the tears of devotion,
and is it of small import whether we go astray ?

There are two points, not alluded to in any of the recent
discussions of this subject that have fallen under our notice,
on which some general remarks are in place. Attention seems
to have been given, in England, chiefly to the New Testa-

1859.]

sroi

203

meat* Bat we suppose it to be generally agreed among com-
petent scholars, that our version is more accurate in the New
Testament than in the Old. Greater advance has been made
in Hebrew than in Greek grammar and lexicography* The
poetical parts of the Old Testament especially suffered loss
in the hands of our translators, and need a more thorough re-
vision. Of this any one may satisfy himself by examining,
not the interpretations of German rationalists, but those of so
conservative expositors as Dr. Alexander, for example, or *Dr-
Henderson ; or by comparing the common version of the book
of Job with the excellent revised version published by the
Bible Union. The labor required here must be very great,
but the resulting benefit will more than repay it, if the Psalms
and the Prophetic writings, those storehouses of devotional
thought and language, are presented in a form that will do
more ample justice to their divine beauty. In the New Tes-
tament the Epistles demand the utmost industry and skill.
They are especially obscured by inattention to the force of
the particles which indicate the transitions and connections of
thought It is no exaggeration to say, that there are passages
in the Epistles of Paul which, as they appear to the mere
English reader, are without any discernible connection or re-
lation of parts. They are read in fragments, with no attempt,
even, to trace the Apostle's logic. Here, also, there is a wide
and very difficult department of labor, in which the conscien-
tious student is thankful for small gains at almost any sacri-
fice of toil.

And this brings us to the alternative question, Granting
that a revised version of the Scriptures is desirable in itself, is
it practicable ? Can it be effected ? Can it, especially, be
effected, without doing harm that would more than outiii^eigh
its benefits?

There is undoubtedly a very serious obstacle at the thresh-
old of the undertaking. When the present translation was
"authorized,^* English Protestantism was externally a unit
There was internal strife in the national church, but little
actual separation from it Each body of non-conform-
ists, in breaking away from the national communion, took
With them the authorized version. Now, with the spread of

204 BIBLE BEVisiON. [Jan.

the English race and of the English language apon other
continents, the Church of England can speak with bat a lim-
ited authority on this matter. She may revise her Scriptures
for her own children, but her action may or may not be de-
ferred to by those beyond her pale. And among oarselves,
where all bodies of Christians are equal before the law, thete
is still greater difHculty in the way of arriving at any una-
nimity of action. There is room for almost any amount of
jealousy and discord. But we do not think there is cause to
despair of a practicable union, provided only there is a just
recognition of the worth of the object. When timidity and
prejudice give place to more elevated conceptions of the un-
dertaking and a more earnest desire for its accomplishment,
all obstacles to co-operation will melt away.

A more serious difficulty, an obstruction to the doing of
the work when it is undertaken, is the unsettled state of the
Greek text of the New Testament Criticism has made en-
couraging progress, but her labors are far from being ended.
The text from which our version was made will now be ao-
ccpted by comparatively few well-informed persons as the
basis of an improved translation, and there is as yet no agree-
ment upon any other. The revisers of the American Bible
Union adopt as a provisional basis the received text, with
such variations from it as have the concurrence of critical edi-
tors for the last hundred years. This is hardly satisfactory,
but would be a decided advance on the imperfect editions of
the seventeenth century. It seems to us, however, that the
most honest way of dealing with the reader, in those cases in
which the variation affects the sense, is to translate the vari-
ous readings and place them in the margin. The fear of "un-
settling" men's minds is unworthy of a Christian. Why
should we hesitate to let the whole truth be known ?

A more dillicult question remains. Are we competent to the
undertaking ? Is there adequate scholarship to do the work,
and to do it well? This may justly be a matter of anxiety,
when we see that it weighs so heavily on the minds of men
who would be unanimously looked to as among the chiefs
in classical, sacred, and English learning. " On the whole,"
says Dean Trench, " I am persuaded that a revision ought to

come; I am convinced that it will corae. Not, however, I
would trust, as yet; for we are not as yet in any respect pre-
pared for it; the Greek and the English which should enable
us to bring this to a successful end might, it is to be feared,
be wanting alike/' And so Mr, Ellicott : " This only I will
say, that it is my honest conviction that for any authoritative
revision we are not yet mature, either in Biblical learning or
HcUenbtic scholarship.'' There are many to whom these
utterances will be incomprehensible. The rash tyro, who^
just able with the help of Robinson's Lexicon to construe the
Greek Testament, is not afraid to criticise the English version
to the right and left, has no such doubts. The good men who
contribute to Bible Unions, and wonder why the expected new
version is so long in coming, cannot understand them. For
ourselves, while we regard with profound respect the senti-
ments of these eminent scholars, and would tremble to "rush
in '' where such men *^ fear to tread," we venture to believe
that their modesty aggravates their fears to an unnecessary
pitch. It should be remembered, in the first place, that a per-
fect version is not to be expected. That measure of learning
which is adequate to judge with so penetrating a discernment
the merits and defects of the existing version, cannot be alto-
gether at fault in humbly and faithfully seeking its amend-
ment. And especially it should be borne in mind, that we
shall never succeed if we fear to make the attempt. Until
men try, they cannot know their own strength.

In one respect we must confess a want of sympathy with
much that is v^^Titten on this subject The incomparable
English of our version, it is said, cannot be approached, and
the only effect of revision would be to m^ the composition.
It would be no longer of a piece, * Now, in no spirit of
vauntingj.Mip.trust,'^nor in any sympathy with the vanity of
"the age,", wdN3kp"res'^"the convletiork that in 'this very respect
the present is^a better time'ipr undertaking a' revision- than
could have been selected at any previous period. During
the last half of the seventeenth, and almost throughout the
eighteonth century, a vitiated tastg^, in literature caused the
did English atithors tp be neglected. ,But for fifty years past
they have be^ stydi^d with mdre diligence and with a higher

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NoM8f5,^ 18 ' \ •^ *

206 BIBLB REVIBION. [Ju.

appreciation. We have little doubt that there are to-dajy in
any one of the midland shires of England, more popons mUa
to enjoy the great writers of the seventeenth centmy, than
there were in London and both the Universities a huDdied
years ago. The limitations of the proposed work are also to
be considered. If it were demanded that a new venion
should be composed throughout, to rival that which we have
received, there would be reason to despair. But are we so
straitened for good English, that we cannot repair tiie rents of
the old fabric and replace a stone here and there, — whil^ we
have for our quarry not only the vocabulary of the Yomion
itself, but the versions from which it was revised, with the
wealth of the contemporary literature? The very love and
veneration with which the English Bible is viewed, and which
cause so many to shrink from the risk of marring its sanctt
ties, encourage the belief that it has fallen upon a fit time,
and among men with whom it may be safely trusted for
needed amendment At least, let it be tried.

As for the shock consequent on revision, which may be ex-
pected tx> unsettle men's faith in the Scriptures, and to rednoe
everything, literature as well as religion, to chaos, according
to the expressed apprehensions of some, we have come to look
on such threatened calamities with a good degree of resigna-
tion. We do not think so poorly of the Christianity of onr
time, in comparison with that of past ages, as to believe that
men's faith rests on words and syllables, especially on obso-
lete words, words which they would rather not read aloud, or
words which convey to them either no meaning at all or a
wrong one. We remember that the people of England met
and survived the " shock " of six successive versions of the
Bible before the present translation was made, and we trast
that our own generation, both there and here, can accept
some necessary corrections in their copies without being
driven to apostasy. Considering especially that the revision
cannot be wrought in a day, and that the improved version is
in no danger of coming upon us like lightning from the clear
sky, it may be reasonably hoped that sufficient time will be
given to get out of the way of serious harm from it.

All effort in that direction for the present must be merely

tentative. In the existing temper of the public mind, any
proposal, for definite action looking toward a final result
would doubtless be repelled. Dean Trench suggests, (and
the editor of Professor Scholefield's Essay seems to be of the
same opinion,) that nothing in the way of revision should
now be attempted. He would have a select body of scholars
agree upon such corrections of the text as meet their mature
approbation, and cause these to be published for the consid*
eration of all interested By degrees, he thinks, these may so
commend themselves to general favor as to demand, and have
accorded to them, a place in the current text His suggestions
incidentally illustrate one of the difficulties inherent in the
undertaking, — that arising from the divided state of Chris-
tendom, He would have the Church of England take the
initiative, and invite the co-operation of scholars from this
country, and from some of the dissenting bodies in England.
These last, he is careful to intimate, should co-operate as
scholars merely, — implying that the elect workmen of the
national Church are to bear some other and higher character.
He also makes two noticeable exceptions. '* The so-called
Baptists " are to be excluded, because they demand not only
the translation, but the interpretation of a certain word ; those
dissenters, also, who do not accord with the doctrinal articles
of the Church of England, are to be left out of the account.
As to the first of these exceptions, it will probably surprise
the very reverend Dean to learn that in this country " the so-
called Baptists" in great numbers have repudiated the revision
movement in the gross, and have particularly protested against
any change of the version in respect to the terms descriptive
of the rite of baptism. It might also, we should suppose,
occur to his mind, that some of that sect, however inadmissi-
ble might be their demands touching one or two words, would
be able to render service towards the better translation of son-
dry other words itt which their sectarian prepossessions have
no separate interest Of one thing he may be assured, — that,
should the enterprise ever become general in this country,
there are " so-called Baptists" whose learning and skill could
be dispensed with only to the serious loss of all parties con-
cerned. Nor arc we able to see that any doctrinal test would

208 BIBU BETISIOV. [!•&

be profitable. Unless the Charch of England has made mpid
strides towards unity within a very recent period, them an
nearly as wide differences between those embraced within ber
comm anion, as there are between most of them and thoee v^ha
are unable to digest an ex animo subscription to her Artioiea.
Wc can think of only one reasonable limit as to opinion, —
that of an agreement in holding to the divine authority of fbB
Bible as a rule of faith.

But waiving discussion of this point, which is not inunedl-
ately practical, it seems to us that the surest method of
cUiating men to the undertaking, of removing prejudice i
awakening sympathy, is to begin the work at once. Mr. EIH*
cott and the four clergymen associated with him have taken m
step on the sure road to success. Deprecating as eameady as
Dr. Trench any present attempt at an authoritative revirioB,
they propose that ^ bands of independent scholars ^ shonld
undertake the task, and offer specimens of what may be a<y
complished with some select portions of Scripture. Sndi
amended versions, coming into the hands of scbolan te
criticism, may perhaps also be welcomed to the study as aids
in Scriptural interpretation, and to the closet as quickenen of
devotion. It may be anticipated that by and by, through ex-
perience of their benefits, there will be a readiness to accept
an improved version as a whole. We are convinced that a
good revised text, thus put into circulation and placed beside
the common text, would plead the cause of revision more
effectually than whole libraries of discussion, and with mate
speedy eflfect than the best catalogues of corrections, though
presented as invitingly as they are by Dean Trench himsell
In this point of view we welcome the labors of the Five Clei^
gymen, and trust that they will have sufficient encouragement
to proceed further in the same direction. Whatever else may
be said of their productions, — and very much might be said
in their praise, — they are worthy of speoial commendation
for the skill and delicacy which they have shown in dealing
with the common version. Our only complaint against them
in this regard is, that they are a little too much hampered by
the fear of modernizing the style. Because the use of << his**
for its, and of << which " for who^ belongs to the admitted usages

1859.]

BIBLE SETISIOm

of tlie tangaage in the seventeenth century^ they hold the re-
tention of them to be necessary to the due preservation of the
archaic English style. But we conceive that a distinction is
to be made among archaisms. Some are beauties, and some
are blemishes. An evident deformity is not to be cherished
merely because it is old. In cases where antique modes of
expression are not only superseded, but proscribed as incorrect
and inelegant, by long-established usage, the retaining of such
forms does nothing for, but sins against, the dignity and sa-
credness of the Scriptures.

In this country scholars lack ^* independence" in more
senses than one. Very few have the means and appliances
for prosecuting such a work with success. Association in
some form is necessary. Having spoken rather freely of the
origin of the American Bible UnioHj justice requires that we
should not dismiss it without some further notice. At the
outset it suffered all the disadvantages, without the compen-
sating helps, of a sectarian origin. That was against it in
the eyes of the general public, while the sect with which it
was popularly identified^ for that very reason, was hostile to
its designs. Its managers had the discretion to proclaim a
non-sectarian position, and to invite the aid of scholars from
all sections of Protestantism. A majority of its supporters
are still, we presume, Baptists, but there is nothing exclusive
in its constitution. It further suffered from the necessity, if
it would attempt anything immediate, of employing revisers
of inferior capacity. Some of their experimental revisions,
which were intended only as a sort of prospectus of what
,wa8 to be attempted, have been turned to the discredit of the
Union. But in securing the services of Professor Conant,
whose revision of Job speaks better for him than any com-
mendations of ouri*, and more recently of Professor Haekett,
whose accomplishments as a Biblical scholar and expositor
are universally recognized, with those of other eminent men
on either side of the Atlantic, it has made a more effective
appeal to public consideration. Its library of Biblical works
is said to be unrivalled on this continent We see no reason
to doubt that it will yet entitle itself to a far greater measure
of consideration than is now accorded to it.

210 OOHTHICPO&ABT FBBVOH hTaSSLATOBM, (Jiw.

But whatever may be the result of particular i
have faith that the great object in view will nltimateij be
reached, and that the English Bible, not superwded, not dis*
paraged, but arrayed in stiU higher beauty than it now 1
will be handed down to a grateful and revering poeteiilj.

Art. VIII. — 1. Les Lionnes Pauvres. Pto Ewjub AneiSB.

2. Fanny. Par Ernest Feydeau.

3. VAssassinat du Pont Rouge. Par Charles Barbara.

4. Malia. Par Theophile Oautier.

5. La Mode. Par Theophile Oautier.

6. La Clefdu Grand Curtis. Par M. Victor Coubin* 8 vok

7. Essais Morales et Btstoriques. Par Emilb Montbout.

It is certainly not a matter of indifference to note what tke
stage in France has come to within the last ten years. ¥nm
the closing period of the Restoration to the middle of the Joly
monarchy, especially jfrom 1828 to 1847, the reigning literaiy in*
fluence might be said to be embodied in the form of the twvH
volume novel, which little by little swelled out to the novel im
four, eight, twelve, or even more volumes. The novel WB8 ao
in fashion, that no other form conveyed any strong image to
the public eye or impression to the public mind. Rom
Indiana to the Mysteres de PariSj we shall find, throngh m
dense mass of prose, whether with illustrious names or under
names perfectly obscure, that all notions, social or moral, weie
most readily absorbed by the reading world in France wlieii
they were presented in the shape of a continuous narrativei—
of a romance, in short Both men and women imbibed the
most dangerous and depraved ideas with regard to the negleet
of all domestic duties, from the perusal of Valentine^ Jacques^
and the rest of Madame Sand's works of fiction, backed
by the (if possible) still more immoral creations of Balzac,
Alexander Dumas, and Eugdne Sue; while the latter be-
gan the Socialist revolutionary movement that reached its
climax in February, 1848, by idealizing the very worst pas-

1859.]

OONTKMTOBABT FRENCH LI

sions of the lower classes. At the sanie time, the upper
ranks of society learned to analyze, andj if truth must be
told, to despise themselves, in the cynical productions of
Balzac, The large collectiou of volumes forming what this
talented writer (talents of the rarest species cannot be denied
him) denominated La ComiHie Uumaine^ are little or nothing
save the biography of contemporary French society written
by Itself. As Rousseau has left us the record of his vanities
and short-comings in the strange, sometimes appalling, but
undeniably attractive book called Les Confessions^ so Bal-
zac^s ComMie Humaine may stand for the confessions of an
age and of an entire community. In the most voluminous
work of Alexander Dumas, again, his Monte ChristOj we have
the image of one of the monster vices of the present epoch
in France, — ^the devouring appetite for wealth. But in each
and all of these works, where French contemporary civilization
holds up a mirror to itself, the form is the same. The narra-
tive shape is the one exclusively affected by all who, during
the period we have named, undertake to communicate intel-
lectually with the pnblic. Since 1848, things have completely
changed in this respect. The dramatic has almost entirely
superseded the narrative form, and the faults or weaknesses
of the present moment are presented to the public apprecia-
tion exclusively through the medium of the stage. Whatever
an author now has to say to the public in France, he puts
into action, instead of describing it What has been hitherto
eonsidered as indispensable to theatrical representation, —
an event, a situation, an incident, — all this is often set
aside, and the personages of the modern drama simply re-
cite in costume, and on the boards behind the footlights,
what they might as well be described as saying in the pages
of a tale. The dramatic action, properly so called, is not
cared for or sought after ; but it is the tendency of the hour
to go and sec at the Vaudeville or Gymnase the reproduction
of the identical scenes which the spectators liave witnessed,
or will witness, in the drawing-rooms of their own or their
neighbors' bouses.

The fact once admitted, that French contemporary society
is at the present moment mirrored to itself principally upon

212 CONTEMPORARY FRENCH LITERATURE. [JaO.

the stage, it naturally becomes interesting to see what are the
particular forms which may be caught upon the mirror's sur-
face. The Les Lionnes Pauvres of Emile Angier, which piece
was brought out after La Jeunessej by the same author, is a
bold — nay, cynical — exposure of what is most reprehensible
in contemporary French society. It is the representation of
the manoeuvres and intrigues by which a very large number
of "fine" and "fast" ladies manage to secure the sums of
money requisite for their dress and their diversions^ which
sums cannot be furnished them by the conjugal purse. It is
the showing up of the hideous little devices whereby ladies in
the position of the lionnes pauvres cheat their husbands, and
induce the latter to imagine that their pecuniary resources
cover that to obtain which absorbs double and treble the
amount of those resources. The subject, as we perceive, is
not easy of treatment. Emile Angier has treated it with the
utmost boldness. The consequence was, that, when the man*
uscript was first examined by the censors, license to perform
the play was refused. It was alleged that society was too
boldly, too openly attacked, and that to bring forward such an
attack before the public was not to be thought of for an in-
stant. Prince Napoleon was applied to; his influence ob-
tained, in spite of the censors' scruples, the ministerial license,
and the lionnes pauvres were shown to the Parisian pub-
lic in all their undisguised degradation, and applauded by
crowded houses, the component members of which could not
but recognize the picture as genuine. The picture is simply
this. M. Pommeau, a man of a certain age, a notary, has
espoused a young woman, whose guardian he was, but whose
fortune may be reckoned as a blank. Madame Seraphine
Pommeau has been brought up with disorderly and expensive
tastes, without any means of satisfying them. No sooner is
she married, than, making the most of her beauty, she levies
contributions upon all the men of her husband's acquaintance,
one after another, beginning with a certain L6on Lecarnier,
whose wife is the very best friend Madame Seraphine ever
had. This intrigue is discovered by all the personages of
the play except M. Pommeau. L6on Lecarnier has given
all he possesses, and, as he has nothing more to give, his

1859.] CONTEMPORARY FRENCH LITERATURE. 213

" lady love " bids him adieu, and is about accepting the prof-
fered homage of Bordognon, the satirical character of the
piece, — the raisonneur^ as it is technically called, — when the
unfortunate notary becomes aware of all that has been pass-
ing, of all his dishonor, — previously concealed only from him-
self, — and the d^nouemerU of the piece is brought about. The
unhappy man beggars himself to pay back all that his guilty
wife has allowed others to offer her, and then proposes to her
his forgiveness and a life of honest toil. She refuses unhesi-
tatingly, and we may guess what the rest of her existence
will be. From amongst twenty other passages equally curi-
ous to the foreign reader, we will quote the following portrait
of la lionne pauvre^ put into the mouth of Bordognon : —

^^ You wish to know what the word means in that slang called the
language of the world ? I will tell you at once : a lionne is a woman
of fashion ; that is, one of those femde dandies whom you meet every-
where where it is the fashion to be seen, — at the races, at the Bois de
Boulogne, at first representations, — wherever, in short, fools seek to seem
richer than r : ey are to the envious who have not half what they want.

Here is the female dandy ; add a spark of eccentricity, you have

the lionne; take away the fortune, you have la lionne pauvre The

difference between the two lies in ihe treasurer. For the mere lionne
there is the husband ; for the lionne pauvre^ there is some one else. In
a word, these two varieties of the same species blossom in every rank
of society ; and, duchess or bourgeoise, from ten up to a hundred thou-
sand francs a year, the lionne pauvre begins where the husband's for-
tune ceases to be in keeping with the wife's expenditure."

To this the interlocutor of Bordognon replies, that there are
" other ways whereby a wife can cheat her husband," and
Bordognon answers : —

** Yes ! I know those other ways, and they almost always begin

by them. So long as the lionne is well-behaved, the husband pays two
sous apiece for the breakfast-rolls that cost but one ; but from the day
when her good behavior ceases, he pays one sou for the rolls that cost
two. The wife begins by robbing the common stock, but she ends by
enriching it."

We could, as we have said above, add other quotations ; but
the principle of the piece, its motive, and the particular aspect
of civilization which calls it forth, are made sufficiently evident

214 CONTEMPORART FRENCH LITEIUTURS. [Jan.

by Bordognon's cynical speeches. The truth of these speeches
is attested by the manner in which the public flock to hear and
to applaud them. This it is, — this recognition of itself bj
society in such a play as M. Angier's, — which makes it im-
possible for the foreign student of French morals and litera-
ture to overlook such a production as Les Lionnes Pauvres.

If a worse proof of corruption can be held to exist than
that to which the passages we have cited bear witness, we
should perhaps find it in a book recently publbhed, and re-
ceived by the Parisian public with perfectly rapturous ap-
plause. Fanny is a small volume, by a writer whose talent
had previously shown itself simply in archoeological discassion,
and appeared to have nothing in common with the creations
of fiction. At the present moment, four or five editions of
the villanous little work have been exhausted, and the crit-
ics most in renown have proclaimed Fanny a chef-JPtBUvre.
Jules Janin wrote a Preface to it, which is the one act of hui
whole life of which he ought to be the most ashamed. In
this Preface he quietly asserted that " every woman in France
had already devoured the book in question," and that " it was
hidden under every pillow and every toilet-table." To add to
this something worse, he declared that it was, above aU, the
" honest women " who would read the work he vaunted. M.
St. Bcuve, in the Moniieur^ occupied several columns in prov-
ing that few works of fiction are equal to this ; and above all
he praised it for its truth, for the way in which it portrayed
the woman of the nineteenth century — in France, let us has-
ten to say.

Now anything more monstrous (we can find no other ex-
pression) than this same story of Fanny it never was our fate
to read. The book is an autobiography. A young gen-
tleman named Roger, having fallen into a state of such hope-
less misery, through the perverseness of his mistress, that he
can find repose only in the utter solitude of a dilapidated
dwelling on the sea-shore, takes the world into his confidence,
and pours into its ear the recital of all his woes, and of their
source. At four and twenty M. Roger falls desperately in
love with a lady of thirty-five. This is by no means an ex-
traordinary occurrence on the continent of Europe, and some

1859.] CONTEMPORARY FRENCH LITERATURE. 215

thousands of similar cases could be described, which would be
well-nigh complete parallels for the history of M. Roger and
Madame Fanny. But here does not lie the knot of the
affair, nor is it by any means the mere fact of their crime that
embarrasses either of the lovers. They do not once, that we
are aware, raise any objection to the adultery perse; but a
circumstance connected with it proves the total destruction of
the hero's happiness. The lover conceives a frantic jealousy
of the husband ! Here is the plot of this atrocious fiction,
and we ask our readers if a viler can be imagined ? Yet the
woman of the nineteenth century, in France, is quite accu-
rately painted in this miserable creature, who can give her
whole soul unreservedly to no affection, but whose only aim
is to make herself " comfortable " in the midst of wrong. It
has been our lot, in the course of our studies in French litera-
ture, to read many books which shocked our moral sense, and
appeared to us as the sign of a moral inferiority in the nation
that could crown such works with popularity ; but so thor-
oughly disgusting a creation as Fanny^ or one the success of
which attests more unequivocally the corruption of a people,
it has — we unhesitatingly declare — never yet been our evil
fortune to peruse.

Certain attempts have more than once been made in France
to introduce into the literature of fiction an element which
in all Northern tongues has a large range of action, but which
has been thought incompatible with the languages of Latin
root, and especially with the French. We allude to that
of terror. Li the fictitious literature of England and Ger-
many terror is one of the chief elements, and Lewis, Scott,
Ann Radcliffe, and all the German novel-writers, from the
time of the Ritter Romances down to Hoffmann, testify how
greedy, in the Saxon civilizations, is the public mind for the
terrible under any form. Within the last two or three years
there has been in France a stronger tendency of this nature
than ever before, and it is principally due to the works of one
of our countrymen. The translation of Edgar Foe's Tales
has created a greater sensation among Frenchmen than per-
haps any other publication since the days of Walter Scott.

Among the hundred tales of terror to which Foe's " Assas-

216 OONTEHPOBABT FBENOH UTERATOBl. (3IUL

sination in the Bue Morgae" has given rise, theie is
which may be regarded as a fair sample of the species,
which is decidedly the most successful of them alL J^^
nat du Pont Rouge is a story in one small volume, by a yoiiiig
writer named Charles Barbara ; and it has become so popofauTi
that a play founded upon the book has had a nm of aevenl
months, and has been the means of large gain to the theahe
where it was performed. We begin by premising that then
must be some small genuine merit in this tale of UAMSOitimd
du Pont Rougej sdme real interest in its plot, and in the deliii-
eation of the different characters it contidns ; for it is im]
ble to imagine anything worse written, or in which the
of style have less attraction. The story is simply this. A
stock-broker of the name of Thillard, who is supposed to have
made a great deal of money, but at the same lime to be in
some slight pecuniary embarrassment brought on by his ei*
travagant habits, all at once disappears from his homei and iS|
a short time afterward, found drowned in the Seinei with a
portfolio upon him enclosing one hundred thousand taaum.
His widow, whom he neglected in his lifetime, is left so poori
that she gives lessons in music She is thus brought into
acquaintance with a man of the name of Clement, whose
wife is desirous of lessons on the piano. An old servant of
M. Thillard has devoted himself to the young widow's sei^
vice, and without any remuneration, or the hope of any, he
continues to perform the menial offices required in the little
household of Madame Thillard and her mother, just as he
would have done in the days of his employer's prosperity.
One or two slight circumstances strike this man, and indnee
him to fix his suspicions upon Clement, and the sequel proves
him to be right Clement and his wife turn out to have been
the joint murderers of M. Thillard, whom they put to death
one night in a miserable lodging they occupied at the time
near the Pont Rouge. The victim may be said to have
sought his fate; for having, at an earlier period of his life, had
an illicit connection with Rosalie, who became Cl^ment^s
wife, he conceived the unlucky notion of paying this wo-
man a farewell visit before leaving France, and escaping to
England with £ 12,000, which he had stolen from his clients.

1859.J

CONIBMPORART FRENCH tITKBATUBB.

217

He stops to rest at Clement's lodgings, sends him for a bot-
tle of wine to a wine-shop close by, and meanwhile informs
both this man and Rosalie that he is obliged to flee from his
country, and that he has in his portmanteau £12,000. Cle-
ment and his wife are in miserable circumstances, almost
dying of hunger, and they see suddenly before them the means
of being rich. Clement has poison always within his reach,
— his intention for years having been to commit suicide if
times grew too hard, — and the victim whom he might per-
hapa never have sought is there, self-offered, ready to his
hand. The deed is done. Thillard is poisoned by the guilty
couple, and his corpse dropped into the river with one hundred
thousand francs, a third of what he bore upon him, put into a
pocket-book in his coat. This fact precludes any notion of
foul play when the body is discovered, and it is soon admit-
ted that ThUlard the stock-broker has made way wdth him-
self. Of course, in the discovery of the guilt of Cldraent and
his wife, and in the fortuitous juxtaposition into which they
are brought with Madame Thillard, their victim's widow, lie
the elements of interest in the story. The plot is wrought
out with considerable ability. It is not entirely original; for
the murder of O'Connor by the Mannings evidently haunts
M. Barbara, and if Edgar Poe^s tales had never been trans-
lated into French, he might possibly be still in search of the
form which best suited bira.

A book of a totally different nature, and one w^hich, for
entirely different reasons, may be read over and over again,
and always found full of fresh attractiveness, is the Italia of
Theophile Gautier, now republlslied with considerable addi-
tions and revisions of the text. We object to one thing
only, — the title. Why BI, Gautier should call this book Malia,
it is quite beyond our penetration to divine. Italy is not con-
ceivable as a whole, as a type, without Florence and Naples,
without ita Southern cities, and, above all, without Rome.
Now M» Gautier's little book is nothing but a rush from
France to Venice by rail, with a carriage- window view of
Padua^ Verona, Vicenza, and the small towns of Northern
Italy. As a study of Venice, it is a gem, a priceless treasure,
both to those who have and to those who have not seen the

VOL. Lxxxviir.'— NO* 182. 19

218 GONTEMPORART FRENCH LTTERATURB. [Jan.

glorious bridegroom city of the Adriatic. No man living can
have had a more evident " call " to paint the city of the Doges
than Theophile Gautier. He himself says, that ^< three towns
in the whole world preoccupied him," and the three were GSia-
nada, Cairo, and that marvellous, dream-like vision of stone
and marble which " sits enthroned on a hundred isles." Gria-
nada he has seen, and has given us a description of it gor-
geous as itself; the other two he was yet to see, when some
happy chance sent him a short time ago to visit the shores of
the Adriatic. We will give in his own words the narrative of
his arrival in Venice : —

" To reach in the night the place one has dreamed of for long, long
years, may seem but a simple accident, a thing for which a traveller is
not expected to care much, but it is one of those circumstances that oon-
tribute to irritate curiosity to a pitch of absolute exasperation. To pen-
etrate into the retreat of one's chimera with blinded eyes, is fit to drive
one distraught. I had experienced this already with regard to Gra-
nada, where the diligence deposited me ar two in the morning, in the
midst of a darkness the opacity of which was quite extraordinary."

If we were disposed to discuss the point with M. Gautier,
we might suggest that Venice is, of all cities in the world,
the fittest to enter for the first time by night. Every Italian
city has its night life, but above every other Venice lives by
night, and the night is inseparable from its very history. But
to return to our author : —

" Our l>oat sped along a very wide canal at first, on the banks of
which stood out in confused outline dim, dingy edifices, dotted here and
th(*re with half-lighted windows, and with torches stuck close to the
walls, and casting a heavy, smoky trail of radiance over the black and
trembling water ; very soon, however, we struck into a labyrinth of
liquid streets, veiy complicated in their windings, or which to us ap-
peared so from our ignorance of the locality and from tlie darkness of
the hour. A stonn, all but spent, yet tlie caprices of whose close
served us admirably, lit up the sky every now and then with its dart-
ing flashes, and cast livid brilliancy upon seemingly endless vistas, and
upon the strange stone tracery of unknown palaces. At every moment
we shot beneath some bridge, either end of whicli was marked by a
broad, luminous spot, shining upon the dull, compact mass of the adja-
cent buildings. Shrines to the Madonna^ these. At every corner of a

COTTBMPORAItY FREWTCH LTTERATORB.

canal curious ^ttural cries were heard ; a floating cofTin, al whose ex-
tremity bent forwaiMl the shadow of a human form, glided rapidly by
our side ; a low window against which we brushed revealed to us an
interior seen by tlie rays of a lamp, and resembling an aqua forth of
Kembrandt. Water-doors, bathed by the tide, opened to strange shapeSi
that disappeared and were seen no more; flights of st^s wound
down to the wave, and then apparently wound their spirals up to some
mysterious invisible abode ; the tall, painted posts where the gondolas
are moored, looked, before the melancholy fronts of the houses, like
ghosts of the departed. On the tops of arches indistinct shapes watched
ua going by, as do the people we see in a dream. At times all
lights were out, and giooraily we sped on, hemmed in, and as it were
wrapped i ound, by four vuxnous darknesses, — the deep, damp, oily
darkness of the water, the stormy darkness of the night sky. and the
double and thick darkness of the wall on either side, revealed to us
now and then by the red glare of our boat-lamp, which shone over
broken steps, severed columua, wide-yawning iron-barred gates, and
porticos swallowed up in sable gloom as soon as shown.

*" Each object on which, in the dark, fell here and there the gleam of
the vagrant ray, assumed at once an air mysterious, vague, fearful in
the extreme, and out of all proportion. The water, always so formida-
ble an element daring the night, added to the general efifect by its
heavy roll and perpetual unrest. The dull gleam of street lights, few
and far between, threw crimson tints, as of blood, upon it, and the
murky waves looked, to our mind, as though they were but a vast, thick
cloak, beneath which lay a shoal of Lorrid crimes. TVe marvelled that
we heard not the dull fall of a dead body from some balcony on high,
or from some half-opened casement. Never did reality seem less real
than on that night. We were driving through the very heart of
some romance of Anne RadcliflTe, or Monk Lewie, with illustrations
by Goyen, or Pirane^i, or Rembrandt. The old stories of the Three
Inquisitoi*s, of the Council of Ten, of the Bridge of Sighs, of masked
spies and bottomless wells and scorching leads, and of the execu-
tions of the Canal Orfano, — all the melodrama, all the romance of
ancient Venice, crowded back upon our memory. A sense of terror,
black, cold, and damp as all that was uround, clung inextricably to us,
and we i^cjdled involuntarily to our minds the words of Maltpicrt to
b Tube in Ilugo^a Angelo^ when he paints his singular, instinctive dread
of whatever is Venetian."

Now this picture, which is perfectly accurate, could not
have been painted by M. Gautier if he had arrived in Venice

220 OOHTBMPOBABT VBBNOH UXKBAWOm. [fta

by the light of day ; and indeed he snbseqaently admitB n
much, saying : —

<< The shades of mght restore to her the mystery whereof she ii
shorn by daylight, and invest the most commonidace oocnnenoes wiA
an appearance of dramatic interest. Eyeiy door seems lyar to lei
through it a lover or an assassin, every gondola gliding eileiidy by
seems to bear away an enamored couploi or a cjead body with a eiyilal
poniard in its hearf

This is trae, and we are not aware that the unreal reaStg
which is so peculiarly the characteristic of Venice has ever
been so skilfully painted as by Theophiie Gautier. This ii
the charm of the book. It is not the Venice of hirtorical
tradition, or the Venice of Shakespeare, or the Venice of By^
ron, or any one's Venice of the past, that he reproduces to oor
eye. It is the Venice of to-daj, — the Venice which is what
she is, because she was all that the mighty dead have told and
sung in bygone ages, — the Venice which is self-haantedi
and through whose every canal, and across whose every Irs*
ffettOj are wafted vague whispers of a civilization that has for
ever ceased to be.

We sincerely recommend M. Gautier's book to all such as
are curious about Venice, — and where are they who are not
so ? It is impregnated with what a German writer very aptly
calls Venetianismusj and while in those who have not seen
the Queen of the Adriatic it will increase the desire to pay
court to her, to those who are familiar with her it wiU bring
complete satisfaction.

From this charming volume to the little gem lying before
us, and entitled La Mode, by the same author, there is less
distance than might seem at first It is as from one to another
painting by an artist of strong individuality.

It might, if we had space, be worth our while to study the
eminent and successful writers who are by native endowment
and tendency artists rather than authors. We know of few
more curious cases in point than Theophiie G^autier. He has
risen, there is no doubt, to be one of the remarkable writers
of France ; but be has done so by the qualities which evidently
predestined him to be something else than a writer. If the
same amount of culture had been awarded to his artistic in*

1859.]

CONTEMPOILiRY FRENCH LrTEEATTIRE,

221

stincts that was expended upon those general literary apti-
tudes which modern education appears to consider as equal
in all raen alike, he would probably have been far more re-
markable as a painter than he is as a writer. He is wholly a
painter ; and because he is so, his writings interest us, for they
describe what he really sees, and not what his neighbor sees
for him. But it is impossible not to perceive in all he writes
that he does not prodmie what he has conceived in the form
in which he conceived it. It does not come to the public
immediatelyx but mediately^ being a painting first, and then
the description of a painting, vivid beyond what perbaps any
one else could achieve. ^

This duality of impression is to be noted in every line Gau-
tier writes; but perhaps never more than in La Mode, This
is a diminutive book of about five or six iiiches«!<tiuare, and
contains thirty -three pages, of fourteen lines each, printed
upon thick-ribbed paper, and with a crimson line-edging be-
tween the letter-press and the white margin. It is altogether
a very exquisite little production, and, only thirty copies of it
having been printed, it is no slight good fortune to have be-
come the possessor of one.

The object of this pretty little publication is to defend the
fashions of the present day from the persistent attacks levelled
at them, and to do so from a picturesque point of view. This
may seem strange ; but there is no denying that in many re-
spects M, Gautier has right and reason on his side. He is,
for instance, quite right and quite reasonable when he flies in
the face of all that tribe of would-be artists who are for ever
railing about the " antique," and declaring that both painting
and sculpture are dying out because men and women wear
clothes. This is one of the most curious shapes of the im-
potence of our epoch, and one which those who ought to know
better do not scruple to admit, and set forth even as an unan-
swerable plea for the artistic inferiority of the present age,
M. Gautier attacks the absurd fallacy in bis very first lines.

** I wbh to know why the art of clothing \^ abandoned to seamstresses
an^ tailors, ia that very civilisation where, precisely, dress is of mani-
fest importance, seeing that, on account of moral conventions and cli-
mate, the ontlTne.^ of the human form are never viaiUle. The dress of
19*

222 OOHTHMPOaABT raEBTOH LizmAiim& {Xuk.

a human bebg in our day is Am din ; from it we never iee him Hf^
rate ; it adheres to him as does the sldn to the animal, and theva fa ■•
absolute necesuty that we should ever know what are the beantipa er

the defects of the human body in its natural ^oooditioD* It ii

only by consultmg the bronzes and marbles of antiquity that artfata ew
attain to a conception of the human ideal represented in atatnea aoi
bas-reliefs. Bat what connection is there between what may be da*
nominated these abstract forms, and those of the gurmented apaeCatai
who contemplate them ? None. Seem they of the same race ? Ik aa
manner whatever."

M. Gaatier then starts from the principle that| the art of
antiquity having been only the copy of the bnmanity sad
civilization of antiquity, and having for that very reaaoiii end
because of its truth, been so beautiful, the art of our timei
must necessarily, inevitably, be of a totally different order, ibr
the reason that, if it were not so, it would be at vaiiauce wi%
our civilization and with our humanity.

^ Sculptors and pamters complain loudly of the dress of
times. According to them, this it is which prevents them from i
forth masterpieces of genius into the world. Black coats^ crinoHna^
and paletots are the obstacles to these gentlemen being so many Y(^
lasquezes, and Titians, and Van Dycks. Yet these great men pot^
trayed their contemporaries in attire^ which no less, if not more, than
ours, hid the outline of the naked figure from view. Sometimes eveOi
the vestments they had to paint were out of the way, and ungiaoefbL
There is nothing, — whatever our artists may say to the contraij,'-
there is nothing which should cause them so bitterly to r^ret that
young dandies now-a-days do not go about draped in bright-hued man-
tles, and sporting red plumes upon their hats.^

M . Gautier is right here. The painter of to-day who can-
not reproduce on his canvas the sleeve of a doth coat, and
who, above all, is incapable of putting a real, living arm in*
side of it, would do no better with the gaudy cloak of the
sixteenth century ; and the master who, in that age, threw a
scarlet plume so boldly upon his model's head, would, in thia,
know bow to give value to a wide-awake^ or to the glosaieat
sable hat ever set upon the head of a physician or a railway
director.

But M. Gautier's boldest stroke of all 14 %at aimed in &-

1859.] CONTBB£PORARY FRENCH LITERATURE. 223

vor of crinoline. Upon this point he enters into no discussion,
but at once aflwrns crinoline to be the " right thing." When
he reaches this part of his treatise on fashion, he writes : —

" What can you say in favor of crinolines, of petticoats circled round
like tubs, or of those that have springs to be set in order by the clock-
maker when they go wrong ? Is not all this an abomination, hideous
and contrary to all art ? Such is not our opinion, and ladies are right to
hold by crinoline, in despite of the caricatures and jokes and vaudevilles
of the other sex. Tiiey do right to prefer those ample petticoats, rich,
heavy, broadly spreading to the view, to the wretched umbrella-cases
in which their grandmothers were imprisoned. From the many folds
of a modem skirt, flowing gracefully downward, the waist emerges
elegant and slender, the shoulders and neck rise advantageously up-
ward, and the whole figure has a certain pyramidal grace. The stiff,
rich stuffs of the gown form as it were a pedestal, on which the bust is
seen to evident advantage. Most seriously, it is our deliberate convic-
tion, that a lady in our times, dressed for a ball, with bare arms and
neck, and bearing on her head one of the coiffures of recent invention,
draped in the flowing silks or satins of her double skirts, or innumera-
ble flounces, — that such a lady is as well and as picturesquely attired
as she can ever be, and doeS in every way satisfy the exigencies of art.
Unhappily, we have no contemporary art ; the artists who, as we fancy,
live in our times, belong in reality to epochs that are for ever past.
Antiquity misapprehended prevents them from feeling the present
They have a preconceived notion of the beautiful, and the modem ideal
is what they do not even guess at."

Whatever may be the difference of opinion as to the pic-
turesqueness of contemporary dress, he has expressed in those
few last words what is an undeniable truth. There is no
genuine "contemporary art," and the irremissible error of
nearly every artist of our epoch is the blindness here pointed
out to the ideal of modern ages. Cousin, in his work on
Le Vraij le Beau, et le Bien, has most truly said, " Tout a son
idSaip and never was a better lesson conveyed than in those
words ; but the fault of the artists of this day is to banish
and confine the ideal to some few conventional forms and
epochs, and to put it, as it wer6, out of the reach of modern
art Strangely enough, the very thinker who has, upon this
subject, taught his countrymen, in theory, what they most need
to learn, is one of those who, in practice, have departed the

224 CONTEMPORART FRENCH LITERATURE. [Jan.

farthest from the substance of his own teachings. M . Cousin
knows, as he has so well said, that '' in all things is to be fonnd
the ideal " ; yet he in his turn falls into the error these very
words confute, and most evidently finds his ideal of all modem
civilization in one period alone, and that a period for ever
past, and no characteristic of which can ever be revived. Oat
of the beginning of the seventeenth century he is incapable
of discerning anything admirable. With the majority of
Louis XIV. ends for him the era during which the men and
women of his country are worthy to be chronicled.

We are not about to fall into the opposite extreme, but we
could wish, in so great a writer and thinker as Cousin, a little
less exclusivencss, historically speaking. However, there is
this to be said, that, in commenting upon the principal work
of Mademoiselle de Scudery, he has rendered what may be
termed an archaeological service beyond all price. The man^
ner of life of the Grand Siicle was so extremely grands so
full of " pomp and circumstance," so almost entirely confined
to representation, that, however well read or well informed
the historical student might be upon the events and personages
of that time, he scarcely found it practicable to reproduce
those personages as living to his mind's eye. In this respect
M. Cousiirs commentaries on La Clef du Grand Cyrus are
extremely j)recious, for he gives us the report of the very eye-
witnesses of the day to what in that day was enacted.

In a literary point of view, the works of Madame de Scu-
dery have really less than no value at all ; for they would be
a downright punishment to any one who should undertake to
read them for his amusement, and they have been the origin
of a perfectly detestable school in the literature of fiction ;
but as rcllectors of a state of civilization for ever extinct, as
records of the every-day life and habits of some of the most
illustrious individuals in French history, the Scudery novels
are valuable documents. It is in this light that M. Cousin
has regarded them, and in this light only that they can seem
interesting to the reader of our times.

Lc Grand Cyrus is an interminable romance, in Heaven
knows how many volumes, written in pretentious, and at the
same time unartistical French, and full of incidents of the most

1859.]

OOITTEMFORAIIY FRBNOH LTPERATURE.

225

sickly sentimentalism ; and yet it is simply the somewhat
poetized biography of the youth of the great Condd, and to
any one who desires to be transported two hundred and
twenty years back, and to feel as though he had lived in the
intimacy of dead heroes and queenly dames, the two volumes
before ua will grant his wish as surely as would the fabled
mirror of the Florentine magician. In La Clef du Grand
Q/ruSj as it now appears with M- Cousin's notes, we see the
society of the seventeenth century, not as this historian or that
may believe it to have been, but as that society saw itself, and
judged of its own component parts. The portraits contained
in Madame Scuddry's Ct/rus are those which, at the time she
wrote, and when the models were yet living, were considered
likenesses, and to M. Cousin's patience we owe the ascertain-
ment of the name to be written beneath each portrait We
repeat it, as an historical document, the book is a precious
one ; but we are not quite sure that we rejoice over the em-
ployment of so lofty a genius as Cousin's in the mere work
of cataloguing.

A work which, far from registering the deeds of past ages,
is concerned solely with the present, is that entitled Essais sut
PJ^poque Aciuelle^ by Emile Mont6gut, the young and dis-
tinguished contributor to the Revue dcs Deux Mondcs, with
whose name readers on this side of the Atlantic are familiar,
from the very excellently written pages he has more than once
devoted to the contemporary productions of American lit-
erature.

One of the chief characteristics of Monttgut is his absolute
want of prejudice. He is singularly superior in this respect
to the greater portion of his countrymen, who usually see no
merit in what is not French, and for the most part find it al-
most impossible to understand what does not square with the
civilization of France. Montegut is essentially a moralist,
and as such his Essays, as collected, have much more value
than when they appeared in an isolated form, and at intervale,
in the Revue dcs Deux Mimdes. The book reads well as a
whole, and hangs together, although, in its component parts,
it treats of subjects widely various, and seemingly little con-
nected one with another. It would perhaps be difficult to

336 CONTEMPORART FRENCH LITERATURE. [Jan.

find, in any modern author, so correct and so thoroaghly im-
partial a judgment upon France, as that contained in the first
article in the volume, entitled, Du Gen'e Fran^ais. Let oar
readers judge from the following quotation what mast be the
perspicacity and the candor of the writer, with whom we
would bring them more nearly acquainted : —

" France is, as far as outward appearances go, the countiy easiest of
uU to judge ; but in reality it is the most difficult of all to understand,
and hitherto all the opinions given upon the subject may be ranged on*
der the two following absolutely contradictory propositions : ' France is
11 monarchical country,' and ' France is a revolutionary conntiy.' The
revolutionary race, par excellence ! exclaims the historian, who would
make France date from 1789, and who chooses to foi^t that she was
previously the most royalist of all nations. An anti-religious peopk !
cries another, oblivious of the facts that the Church was upheld, the Pa-
pacy restored, by the sword of France, and the Reformation stopped in
its development by the obstinate fidelity of France to her old ecclesiaa-
tical traditions, llace devoted to its ancient institutions, and which only
the quarrels of the last sixty years of storm and tempest have caused
to be ill-understood ! ejaculate in answer the publicists of a oertaln
school, — and, alas ! this opinion is no better founded m reality than the
other. The truth is, that France, the country of all contradictkmsy is
at one and the same time given to innovate with fury, and to be obsti-
nately conservative ; she is simultaneously revolutionary and traditional^
Utopian and wedded to routine. In no country do things pass awmy
from memory as in France, and in none are they remembered widi
such tenacity. Yes, the French race is a race both revolutionary and
traditional, for him that knows how to read it aright ; revolutionary,
because its political metamorphoses have been more numerous than
elsewhere ; traditional, because, under no matter what outward form,
the same identical spirit is to be eternally observed."

If unlimited space lay before us, we could be well pleased
to cite page after page of M. Montegut's volume; but the
shortest way then would be to recommend the perusal of it to
the public on this side of the Atlantic. Wc will close our
quotations by the following, which is one of the most remark-
able passages in the book, and happily touches upon what
marks the difference between the social civilization of the
I^atin and the Saxon races, — upon the position, namely, of
the individual in society.

1859.]

OOHTBMPOHABT

Fliterattjre.

227

** The great danger of modern society was pointed out tliirty years
ago by M. Royer-CoUard^ when be said, * Thanks to cenlralizalion, all
b USUI ess that is not our own personal nod immediate busine»8 id now
.the business of • state.' And thus it is that the revolution, whilst
attempting the so-called emancipation of the tridiTidual, nevertheless
multiplied the obstacles opposed to the development of induidualimi*
How did this happen ? The revolution was an external and a negative
fact. Its promoters believed tliat, in order to make men free, it was
necessary only to throw down the institutions that hemmed them round.
A protestation in favor of the individual the revolution therefore wae,
in litter ignorance of what constituted individualism ; that js^ the free,
unshackled eflTort 'if the human soul, acting, as it wcre^ upon itself. The
revolution started from what was exterior, and, ignoring the living ele-
ments of society, it attacked it3 outward seemings, which were the effect
instead of the cause of mbchief, and let alone the individual, for whom
and by whom all external institutions are. The institutions were
changed, but the soul of the race remained unaltered. No moral re-
form had been dreamed of, and no gradual transformation had prepared
the individual for his new destiny. Delivered from all exterior ob-
stacles, he found himself guch as he had been formed by thoee very
obstacles ; the old regime was aboli§hed, and those who abolished it
were shaped after its image. Monarchy waa destroyed, but by
men whose entire education was monarchical. For the first time in
history, it might be remarked that the enemies of a certain existing or-
der of tilings differed in no one single point from the defenders of that
same order of things. Ml the actors in the revolution were cast in the
same mould ; their characters, habits, manners, likes and dislikes^ — all
were the same. Thus the individual remained such as the old consti-
lution of society had made him, and, at the very hour when he cast off
all his political chains, he was still chained down by the moral bonds
of education and social habits. The work of destmction was perfect,
but there was no work of regeneration/'

We strongly recommend the whole of this Yolame to our
readers. They will derive from it a more impartial knowledge
of society and of the individual in France, than might be
drawn from many heavy folios of political or historical lore.
M. Montegut knows his countrymen intimately, and has
painted them impartially, — a merit that belongs to but few.

228 thompsoh's un ov biobdabd.

Art. IX.— Mefnair of Rev. David Ttippcm Stoddard^ .
ary to the Nestorians. By Joseph P. Thompboit, D.1X,
Pastor of the Broadway Tabernacle Church. New Ycxk:

1 Sheldon, Blakeroan, & Co. 185a 12mo. pp.428.

We doubt whether there are anywhere else so paiMt
grounds for an honest ancestral pride as in New TR^^g^fff^
and among the scions of the Puritan stoqlc Wheie pow«^
rank, or entailed and inalienable wealth is transmitted with
the name, a cause of malign agency intervenes to impair 4e
heritage of a father's virtues ; and the novui homo^ the fint of
his race, the founder of his family, is likely to have few eqoab
among those who succeed to his honors. The expectatjoa
froiri early childhood of office, title, or estate to aocme indi^
pendently of meritorious efforts to win or to keep it, wliib it
may sometimes stimulate a generous ambition, mudi atbamm
relaxes the energy of mind, and lowers the tone of chaiaelat:
Thus in any royal or noble house of long standing, if Hie
find some whose genius and virtue have reflected lustre
the family name, they are interspersed at rare intervals i
those to whom the name alone gave lustre. On the otlMr
hand, of the fathers of New England there were not a fisw
whose posterity, in each of the seven or more generations that
have intervened, have done ample honor to their progeniton.
There are among the earliest names on our records thoee
which have never failed to be borne by men of high eminenoe
in church or state, of commanding influence, of impregnable
uprightness, of venerable sanctity. Thus continuous thfeads
of holy light mark in our annals the lines of descent from
those men of whom the world was not worthy.

We therefore admire the sound philosophy which has led
Dr. Thompson to devote a distinct chapter of his life of
Stoddard to " A Godly Ancestry." We are prepared to b^
lieve all that is good of one in whom the Stoddard and the
Tappan lineage unite ; and, after reading that chapter, all the
rest of the biography flows like a series of corollaries from a
demonstrated proposition in mathematics. The richness of
these parent stocks has been reinforced at every stage of theur

1859.] Thompson's life of stoddabd. 229

history, by intermarriage with families of similar claims to re-
spect and reverence. Thus Anthony Stoddard, the first of
the name in New England, a man of no small mark in his
day, and for more than twenty years a representative of Bos-
ton in the General Court, married a niece of Governor Win-
throp, of Massachusetts. Their son, Rev. Solomon Stoddard,
of Northampton, whose personal presence was so majestic as
to lead the Indians to suppose him the <' Englishman's God,"
and whose influence was so great that a sect of some vitality
took its name from him, married a daughter of Rev. John
Warham, an eminent divine from Exeter, England, who be-
came the first pastor of the church in Windsor, Connecticut.
The wife of their son, Colonel John Stoddard, who had no
superior, perhaps no equal, in the Province, as to weight of
character, prudence in counsel, and energy in action, was de-
scended from a sister of Thomas Hooker, the first minister of
Cambridge, and chief founder of Connecticut. We might
follow with similar results the alliances of David Tappan
Stoddard's maternal ancestry, and might trace the confluence
in him of a singularly large proportion of the best blood of
the most genuine aristocracy the world has yet seen.

David was born in Northampton, December 2, 1818. His
boyhood was distinguished equally for amiable and for ener-
getic traits of character. He was prepared for college at the
Round Hill School, then under the supervision of Professor
Cogswell, now of the Astor Library, George Bancroft, and
his own brother, Solomon Stoddard, afterward Professor of
Latin in Middlebury College, and well known as one of the
authors of the Latin Grammar which has superseded almost
all others in our seminaries of learning. In the autumn of
1834 he entered the Sophomore Class of Williams College,
and after remaining there one year entered as Sophomore at
Yale College. Piously educated, and surrounded from the
dawn of his being by the holiest influences and the best exam-
ples, he had been no stranger to profoundly serious impres-
sions ; but they were transient, and alternated with seasons of
indifference, until the spring of 1836, when, during a period of
unusual religious interest in the College, and (as we gather
from the modest narrative) through the agency of the t^lass-

voL. Lxxxvni. — NO. 182. 20

230 THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDARD. [JaO.

mate who has become his biographer, he was led into the fold
of the Redeemer, and yielded himself up in penitence and
faith to the love and service of God. The gospel ministry, to
which a mother's prayers had destined him from infancy, was
now his choice and goal, and he thus early yearned to devote
himself to some department of the field of foreign missions,
yet without settled purpose or definite aim. Among the col-
lege studies, he made unusual proficiency in mathematics, as-
tronomy, and the natural sciences, in which, before the close
of his Junior year, he had acquired so solid a reputation, that
he received the offer of a scientific post in the United States
Exploring Expedition then about to sail for the South Pacific.
A letter to one of his brothers expresses his decision on this
offer, and his reasons for it, in terms so strongly indicative of
Christian manliness, and so vividly characteristic as viewed
in connection with his subsequent life, that we cannot forbear
quoting the following paragraph.

'' A subject has recently been brought before my mind, for considera-
tion, in regard to which I regretted that I could not have your advice.
Application was made to me by government on the recommendation of
one of our Professors, to go out to the Southern Sea, on the Exploring
Expedition now fitting out. The office proffered was that of Secretary,
on board one of the vessels, and the duties of that office something of
the following nature : to keep the course and distance of the ship, in-
cluding occasional astronomical observations, — to write a sub-journal
of the expedition, which would be of considerable importance, as this
vessel is to do most of the exploring. Tlie salary is fixed at near seven
hundred and fifty dollars per annum, with an outfit of three or four
hundred. It was considered here a very advantageous situation for a
young man, and my friends, many of them, advised my acceptance. I
even wont so far as to write home in favor of the plan, thinking that it
might niiike me more robust, and better fitted, physicaVify to perform
the duties of life on my return. I was assured that I could procure
without dilficulty a degree on my return, and receive an education as
good as by a regular course. But serious rcficction, and, I trust, guid-
ance fmm on high, dissipated the illusion which deceived me, and set
before nie arguments too great to be surmounted for declining the en-
terprise. I could not go as a Christian ; for little opportunity would
be afforded me of doing good, and such a voyage might have a very un-
happy effect on my Christian character. I could not go as a man of

1859.] THOMPSON'S LIFE OF 6T0DDAED. 231

the world ; for I have a Master, whose I am and whom I am ever
bound to serve. Were I to look only at time, and ask myself what
course would be likely to advance me in worldly science, I might ac-
cept the offer. I could not, however, forget the interests of eternity
and the life which I had chosen, or rather I hope I may say, the life
to which I have been chosen, that of an ambassador of Jesus Christ.
Parents and the family at home disapprove of the idea no less than my-
self; and I presume you will coincide with us all in opinion.** — p. 63.

This noble act of self-denial proved no check upon Mr.
Stoddard's pursuit of science. Possessed of an unusual de-
gree of mechanical skill, he constructed a telescope of consid-
erable magnifying power, and made for himself an indepen-
dent series of astronomical observations. Though this course
of study was followed with some earnest self-questioning as
to its bearing on the profession of his choice, he afterward
had reason to believe that he pursued it under Providential
guidance ; for the manual dexterity and scientific knowledge
thus acquired were turned to uses of essential importance in
his missionary career.

He was graduated with honor, and almost immediately en-
tered on the office of Tutor in Marshall College, Pennsylvania,
declining a permanent and honorable academic appointment
in a Western college from the same motives which had de-
cided him against the South Sea Expedition. In the autumn
of 1839 he entered the Andover Theological Seminary, where
he remained for one year, during which his class enjoyed the
special instruction of Professor Stuart. In the autumn of
1840, he accepted a tutorship in his Alma Mater, as afTording
him the means of self-support, and enabling him at the same
time to continue his theological studies under favorable au-
spices. In this charge, as in his earlier tutorship, he was not
only the diligent and painstaking teacher, but the religious in-
structor, guide, and friend of the youth committed to his over-
sight, and his letters betray all the tender solicitude of a Chris-
tian pastor, and emotions of the purest gladness in the Divine
blessing on his labors.

In 1842, Mr. Stoddard received license as a preacher. In
September of that year he became acquainted with Rev. Jus-
tin Perkins, D. D., of the Nestorian mission, who had recently

232 THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDABD. [Jan.

returned to the United States, bringing with him the Nesto-
rian bishop, Mar Yohannan, with the view of exciting in the
churches a warmer interest in behalf of that ancient people
and that most inviting field of evangelic labor. Dr. Perkins
at once marked Mr. Stoddard as the coadjutor he desired in
his great enterprise, and the young divine, after brief delibera-
tion, deemed it his duty to accept the call, and offer himself
for the work. He was ordained at New Haven in January,
1843, and on the first day of March following he embarked
at Boston for Smyrna, with his young wife, the daughter of
Dr. Calvin Briggs of Marblehead, and in company with Dr.
and Mrs. Perkins, and four other missionaries.

The Nestorians may claim to be the oldest body of Chris-
tians now in existence. It has been contended, but with no
conclusive evidence, that they are descended from the lost ten
tribes of the Hebrews. However this may be, their traditions
refer the Christian discipleship of their ancestors to the Apos-
tle Thomas, and their standard edition of the Scriptures is the
Peschito, confessedly the oldest translation of the New Testa-
ment, and the earliest of the Old under Christian auspices.
They derived their name as a sect from Nestorius, Bishop of
Constantinople, who was excommunicated as a heretic by the
Council of Ephesus, A. D. 431. A prominent charge urged
against him was his refusal to apply to the Virgin Mary the
title of ©€OTo/co9, Mother of GufL Probably this was the
ground of the other principal charge, which he perseveringly
denied, of investing Christ with two persons as well as with
two natures. " It is worthy of inquiry," writes Dr. Perkins,
" whetlier Nestorius may not have been far more Evangelical
than his opponents, and whether his comparative purity, in the
general corruption of the Church which prevailed at that pe-
riod, may not have been the principal cause of the rigor with
which he was treated." At the commencement of the Ameri-
can mii^sion, the Nestorians had long been destitute of the
doctrines and the attributes of spiritual Christianity ; but at
the same time their creed contained a smaller admixture of
obnoxious elements than that of any other non-Protestant
churcli. They abhorred image- worship, auricular confession,
and the doctrine of Purgatory, and maintained the supreme

1859.] Thompson's life of stoddabd. 233

and infallible authority of the Scriptures. They were simple
in their manners and habits, comparatively pure in their mor-
als, kindly disposed toward other sects, and desirous of in-
struction and improvement. It was believed that such a peo-
ple offered a peculiarly propitious soil for a higher Christian
culture, especially as the existing ecclesiastical organization
opposed no obstacles to that endeavor, and the more intelligent
of the clergy were ready at once to participate in its benefits,
and to aid in its extension. The generous purpose was con-
ceived of leaving the ancient Church unchanged in its external
arrangements and order by foreign interference, while there
should be breathed into it anew the long-lost religious life,
which in its primitive days had been so pure and true. It
was believed that there might thus be established a centre for
the most extended missionary operations in the East, and not
only so, but that this very people might furnish at once faith-
ful and eflEicient agents in the diffusion of the Gospel, and pa-
tent proof of its divinity and power in their example as a
Christian community.

The larger portion of the Nestorians inhabit the wildest
regions of the Koordish mountains. These are nomadic in
their mode of living, poor, subject to the depredations of their
Koordish neighbors, and debarred alike from the functions and
the privileges of civilized humanity. About one fourth of
this people dwell "in the city and on the plain of Oroomiah,
where the necessaries of life are easily procured, and their con-
dition is, on the whole, favored and happy, though not with-
out occasional instances of extortion and oppression by their
Mohammedan masters. The entire Ncstorian population
does not exceed one hundred and forty thousand. Their ver-
nacular language is the ancient Syriac, modified by time and
the attrition of other tongues, and their sacred language —
that of their books and worship — is believed to be the same
with that currently spoken in Judeea at the Christian era, and
hallowed by the lips of the Divine Teacher.

We can easily conceive of the intense enthusiasm with

which a man of Mr. Stoddard's finely-toned sympathies and

generous culture entered on the service of a people so rich in

memories of early time, and in hopeful tokens of restoration

20^

234 THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDAKD. [JftD.

to primitive simplicity and piety. On the outward passage,
the new missionaries were engaged in the daily stndy of the
language of the Nestorians, under the tuition of Dr. Perkins.
Their passage was rough, but short. Prom Smyrna thqr
made the circuit of various missionary stations in Turkey, be-
fore commencing their long overland journey from Trebizond,
<< across the mountains of Armenia and the plains of Persia,"
to Oroomiah. This city had been the first permanent site of
the mission ; but the intensity of its summer heat compelled
the members of the mission to establish a second station on
higher ground. Accordingly, some two years before Mr.
Stoddard's arrival, a retreat had been prepared upon Mount
Seir, and the necessary buildings constructed. The following
account of the mountain and the plain is from a letter of Mr.
Stoddard to Professor Olmsted.

" The village of Seir is in the province of Oroomiah, in Northern
Persia, in latitude 37^ 28' 18" north, and in approximate longitude 45'
cast from Greenwich. TVe are about forty miles from the boundary of
Turkey, and one hundred and fiHy from that of Russia. The village
is on the grassy slope of the mountain, which rises 2,834 feet above the
neighboring city of Oroomiah, and 7,334 above the ocean. The side of
tlie mountain on which we live faces the northeast, and is consequently
somewhat bleak in winter. The snow also lies upon it in the spring
long after it ha?i disappeared from the southwestern side.

'* From the village of Seir we look down on the very beautiful and
extensive plain of Oroomiah, forty miles in length, and from twelve to
twenty miles in breadth, which possesses a deep alluvial soil, and bears
on its fertile bo>om several hundred villages. The city of Oroomiah,
the ancient Thebarma, situated near the centre df the plain, as well as
many of the villages, is surrounded by innumerable gardens and or-
chards, and rows of poplars, willows, and sycamores, which make large
portions of the plain resemble a continued forest. The mountains of
Ivoordistan encircle the plain on three sides, while to the east lies the
lake of Oroomiah, studded with islands, and reflecting the pure azure
of an Italian sky.

" This j)lain is watered by three rivers of moderate size, which come
down from the Koordish mountains, and are distributed by a network
of small canals and water-courses over its whole surface. Without
nrtiiicial irrigation, but few crops can be brought to maturity, although
here and there wheat-fields are cultivated on the slopes of the neighbor-

1859.] THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDARD. 235

ing mountains, which are wholly dependent on the rains of the spring
and earlj summer, and sometimes yield a tolerable harvest.

" The principal productions of the plain of Oroomiah, the annual
mean temperature of which is, of course,- considerably above that of
Seir, are wheat, barley, com, millet, flax, tobacco, rice, cotton, castoi>
oil, apples, pears, plums, grapes (which are cultivated in immense vine-
yards), cherries, apricots, nectarines, peaches, melons, pomegranates,
almonds, and the jujube. The ^g, with care, may be also cultivated,
but is often destroyed by the cold of winter.

" The lake of Oroomiah, the ancient Spautes, is about ninety miles
long by thirty broad. Its elevation above the ocean is 4,100 feet. Its
water has been analyzed by President Hitchcock ; its specific gravity
is 1.155. The lake exerts, of course, a marked influence on the cli-
mate of this region, and produces a regular land and sea breeze in the
summer months. During the day a light wind blows from the lake, and
during the night a fi<esher wind from the lofty mountains of Koordistan,
which rise, some forty miles west of the lake, to a height of ten or
twelve, or perhaps thirteen thousand feet above the ocean, and gener-
ally retain on their summits, even in summer, deep masses of snow.
The amount of watery vapor is thus probably much greater in Oroo-
miah than in many parts of Persia, which present almost the barren-
ness of the Arabian deserts.

'' It should be mentioned in this connection, that all the mountains of
Northern Persia are destitute of trees, and many of them rise to a great
height, in naked, rocky summits. Indeed, in the valleys and on the
plains it is rare to find any trees except those planted by the hand of
man, and a stranger, as he looks down on the luxuriant plain of Oroo-
miah, can hardly be made to believe that the millions of trees before
him are entirely an artificial growth." — pp. 129, 130.

Mr. Stoddard carried his telescope to Mount Seir, and soon
found that the knowledge which he was thys enabled to lay
open and make visible to the intelligent and educated Per-
sians with whom he came in contact, was the means of under-
mining their prejudices against Christianity, of winning their
personal respect and confidence, of impairing their faith in
astrology, which in the Koran is constantly recognized as a
valid science, and in various ways of insinuating the great spir-
itual truths of the Gospel. At the same time, for the youth
under his tuition it is hardly possible to overrate the religious
importance of just notions as to the physical universe, in a
state of society in which every scientific error is a burrowing-

236 THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDARD. [Jan.

place for some inveterate superstition, and falsities about Grod,
the soul and eternity are buttressed by falsities aboat material
objects. The following extract from one of his letters con-
tains one instance, among many, of the good account to
which he turned the observation of the heavens.

"lam more impressed — much more — with the general influence
exerted by the missionaries tlian before I came. In all this part of
IVrsia they are soflcning prejudice, inspiring respect for European
manners and civilization, and thus doing much for the planting of the
Gospel among these Mussulmans. Were you to be here a month, yoa
would feel this deeply, as I do. For example : the other day one of
tlicir great moolahs, the menajim bashce, the chief astrologer, or, if yoo
please, the ' astronomer royal,' came to see my telescope. He is a re-
markably intelligent man, though he holds to the Ptolemaic system of
the world. He is, however, well acquainted with our views. He went
away, sis many others have done, who have seen the electrical appara-
tus and other European inventions, saying, with a stroke of the beard,
• God is great,* or, * Truly you are the wise ones of the earth.' I
showed this man the belts and moons of Jupiter, the rings of Satnm,
and one or more of his satellites, the gibbous appearance of Mars, and
some of the wonders of the JMilky Way. Now this is not saving a son],
and I deeply feel it ; but you will at once see that influence thus gained
over the most talented and influential men is to tell on the destiny of
Persia. And if moolahs will permit us to take them by the hand and
lead them in paths of science, tell me, is it unreasonable to think the
time not distant when wo can lead them to the Lamb of God ? O, I
long to have my tongue untied to speak to this people in their own lan-
guage the wonderful works of God." — pp. 136, 137.

Mr. Stoddard rapidly acquired the vernacular Syriac, and
within live months from his arrival at Oroomiah was able to
take a prominent part in the in.^truction dispensed in the mis-
sionary schools, and soon afterward to preach intelligibly to
native congregations. He acquired also by degrees an avail-
able knowledge of the Turkish ; while at the same time he
.studied the ancient Syriac, with the view of assisting Dr. Per-
kins in the translation of the Peschito into the vernacular dia-
lect. Ilis chief work was that of instruction in the schools ;
but his labors as a preacher were frequent and arduous, and he
often made preaching tours among the numerous villages scat-
tered over the plain. In addition to his toil on the elementary

1859.]

r» UFB Of STOBDAM.

237

branches of education^ he had the chief charge of what was
virtnally a theological semiaary, and earned those de&igned to
exercise the clerical oflPice among their conn try men through an
extended and thorough course of Biblical criticism and dog-
matic theology. But, in whatever labors he was engaged, he
never lost sight of the great end of Christian conversion and
discipleship. And in this he was richly blessed. Often his
days were passed, and sleepless nights employed, in personal
conference with one after another of his pupUs, as they were
aroused to a vivid sense of their need of salvation, oppressed
by the burden of conscious sin, and earnestly seeking the hope
that is full of immortality. There occiurred under his minis-
try and that of his colleagues several seasons analogous in
aU their most hopeful features and their most gratifying re-
sults to the revivals of religion in Protestant Christendom.
The awakening voice was first heard in the schools, and thence
propagated through the surrouoding villages, till those who
' had cast the precious seed into the soil, with anxious thoughts
of a remote and slowly maturing harvest, could hardly ply the
dickle fast enough for the ripening sheaves. If ever man
had joy which angels might envy, such is the gladness poured
[forth in touching eloquence by Mr. Stoddard, as he reports
[these seasons and numbers up these tropliies of bis toil in letters
I to his friends and the Missionary Board at home. Who can
[read the following narrative of what took place in the village
of Geog Tapa, and doubt that the missionary enterprise is
equally the sacred duty and the priceless privilege of those
who know for their own hearts and lives the blessedness of
Christian faith and piety ?

" I have delayed thus far to speak of Geog Tapa, because the work

, there has been so marked and glorious as to deserve a separate consid*

fttion. The precious seed which had been sown year after year in

[that village, — the fact that special interest had been manifested there

[the previous summer, — ^ihe connection of so many ecclesiastics with us

las native helpers, and the comparatively large number of its youth in

the two seminaries, nearly all of whom were awakened and hopefully

converted, — the frequent mention of this village in the letters of the

Committee and of our private friends, showing that it was remembered

at the throne of grace, — all these things naturally led us, at an early

238 THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDARD. [Jan.

period of the revival, to turn our eyes to Geog Tapa, and to expect
there a powerful display of the grace of God. Nor were we disiq>-
pointed. The visitors from that place to our seminaries were, from the
first, so numerous, especially on the Sabbath ; so many of our papfls
visited there in their turn; and we have be mi able, by personal labors
{lud by the aid of our most experienced native helpers, to keep the
truth so constantly before the minds of the people, that the revival in
Geog Tapa has been closely identified, both in its character and results,
witli that which we have enjoyed on our own premises. Early in Feb-
ruary some interest was manifested in one of the schools, which gradu-
ally increased, till many of all classes were deeply moved. About a
month later, when the seminaries had a vacation of ten days, I had the
pleasure, with Miss Fisk, of spending some portion of it in that village.
While there had been but few conversions, there was a great deal of
in([uiry, and our pupils expounded the Scriptures every evening in ten
or twelve different places, to attentive audiences. Everything was
marked by a deep stillness, which indicated to us the presence of Gk)d'8
Spirit And from that time forward converts were multiplied, and the
blessed work went on with increasing power.

<< It would be interesting, were there time, to dwell on the particular
features of the revival there, and to describe the individual cases which
have, during its progress, affected us so deeply. Suffice it to say, that
there arc many mouths which before were full of cursing and bitter-
ness, that are now filled with the praises of God. An entire change
has taken place in the habits and m^mners of the village. Property
luis become secure from thieves to an extent never before known. The
name of reviler, or (juarreller, or profane swearer, has become one of
great reproach. Prayer-meetings are frequent, imd attended by many
who love to pray. The Sabbath is regarded as the Lord's day, and not
unblushingly profaned, as before, by secular employments. And while
there are, of course, many in the village hardened to the truth, and a
few who feel tlie present order of things to be an uncomfortable re-
straint, the sentiment of the village is strongly in favor of peace, sobri-
ety, and vital religion. At a recent communion season, a time at which
disordei*3 were formerly allowed, scarcely less gross than those which di«-
gniced the Corinthian Church, about two hundred remained after the un-
intelligible service in the ancient language, to celebrate the ordinance in
a solemn and reverential manner. The service was conducted with
prayer, singing, and other exercises, very much in imitation of our own
method ; and the pious natives connected with us, who were present,
regarded it as one of the most delightful occasions they had ever wit-
nessed. Do not such great changes, in one of the most intelligent and

1869.] THOMPSON'S LIFE OP STODDARD. 239

promiDent Nestorian villages, promise for us a brighter day than any
which has yet dawned upon us ? Who, even of the most sanguine of
our number, would have believed, a year ago, that in Geog Tapa two
hundred persons would this summer have sat with solemnity around the
table of their dying Lord, realizing, in some measure, the meaning of
the ordinance ? ♦ And whose heart does not overflow with thanksgiv-
ing and praise, when he remembers that scores of these are giving con-
sistent and increasing evidence of piety ? I am informed within a few
days, that there is not a single vineyard in the village in which there is
not at least one praying laborer ; and it is well known that the men
and women, most of whom cannot read, go to their daily toil, singing
along the way the hynms which they have learned from the children in
the schools. In the threshing-floors little closets are made for prayer,
among the stacks of wheat To these places those who love to pray
retire, and, closing the entrance after them with a sheaf of wheat, hold
communion with God.

^ As it is a considerable time since I have visited Geog Tapa, I am
obliged, in reporting the present state of the village, to rely mainly on
others. But it seems to be a fact, that hundreds there are in the daily
habit of secret prayer ; and that fifty of them, exclusive of the mem-
bers of our seminaries, and our native helpers, arc bom into the kingdoih
of our Lord Jesus Christ. Quite a number of the hopeful converts are
young men, who are very active in labors among the people, and who
every Sabbath go out to all the villages around to proclaim the Gos-
pel." — pp. 226 - 229.

We are compelled to be brief, and cannot pursue, as we
gladly would, the detailed narrative of Mr. Stoddard's labors.
His health early became impaired, in part from the debilitating
influence of the climate, in part from a diligence too seldom
intermitted for relaxation and repose. After several journeys,
unattended by permanent relief, the alternative seemed to be
speedy dissolution or a visit to his native country. He chose
the latter, as his duty to his family and the mission. With
his wife, nurse, and two children, he arrived at Trebizond in
the summer of 1848. There his wife died of cholera, after an
illness of a few hours, in perfect peace. The nurse soon fol-
lowed her, and the invalid — not heart-broken, for his letters

* " All, among the Nestorians, old and young, pious and depraved, have hitherto
been accustomed to partake of the sacrament, thinking it had some inherent efficacy
in it, as a saving ordinance. Many now in Geog Tapa absent themselves through
fear of the curse of God."

240 thobipson's life of stoddabd. [Jan.

breathe only serene submission — embarked with the sole
charge of his motherless children. He remained in this
country two years and a half. His health was restored^
though not his full power of endurance. While here, he
was not idle. He addressed churches, public meetings, great
assemblies, in behalf of the missionary cause and his beloved
Ncstorians. He conducted an extensive correspondence, in
the same interest, with' his colleagues in Persia, and in aid of
his and their plans. In February, 1851, he was married to
Miss Sophia D. Hazen, and on the 4th of March following
embarked with his wife and daughter, and three other mis-
sionaries, for Smyrna.

On his return to the mission, Mr. Stoddard entered with
new zeal on the self-denying service to which be had nearly
fallen a victim. His schools, his frequent preaching, his visite
from house to house among the villages, might have seemed
suiFicient for a constitution once so seriously impaired. Bat,
with all his other onerous duties, he found time to prepare a
Grammar of the Modern Syriac, for the use of future mission-
aries, which was published in the Journal of the American
Oriental Society for 1855, and was noticed with strong com-
mendation by Rodiger, the highest living authority. He was
now in the full maturity of his powers, and was regarded by
his associates as an eminently judicious counsellor in the many
diliicult practical questions constantly occurring, as to modes
of usefulness, methods of propitiating or overcoming opposi-
tion, and the increasingly complicated and perplexing relations
between them and the native priesthood. He again manifested
symptoms of incipient disease ; yet was permitted to enjoy
several years, the least interrupted and the most prosperous of
his missionary life. But a higher Wisdom ordained that his
sun should go down at midday. In the autumn of 1856 the
attitude of the Persian government toward the mission ren-
dered it desirable that a deputation should visit the civic
functionaries at Tabreez. Mr. Stoddard was selected for this
service. The journey was performed on horseback, and he
preached frequently by the way. His negotiations gave him
much anxiety, and on his homeward route he was seized with
premonitory symptoms of typhus fever. However, for thirteen

THOMPSON'S LIFE OF STODDARD.

241

days after his returrij he pursued his usual routine of duty,
On Christmas day he was obliged to confine himself to his
bed. At the end of the first fortnight, the disease seemed to
be arrested; but it soon returned, and for eighteen days he
lingered on the confines of the grave. During a portion of
this time, his raind was clear, and his soul sustained and
gladdened by the felt presence of the Saviour, upborne by
holy hyrans, in the enjoyment of sweet peace and un-
shadowed hope. During the accesses of delirium, his words
were those of trust and prayer. On Thursday night, January
22, 1857, he was translated to the heavenly society. " Eleven
years before, on that very evening, he was rejoicing over the
first converts of the first revival, and pointing awakened souls
to the cross of Christ; and perhaps some of those souls were
among the blood-washed throng, who waited to convey his
ransomed spirit to glory/* The funeral service was in Syriac*
Mar Yohannan, his devoted friend and fellow-laborer, in offer-
ing the closing prayer, was subdued by his emotion, and tears
choked his utterance. The body was laid in its last resting-
place, with filial tenderness, by pupils of his school, whom he
had led to Christ* His oldest daughter, who had been united
with him but a little before in the missionary church, sleeps
by his side. And around his grave how precious the tribute
recorded by one of his mii^sionary brethren I

"Scarcely a day passes but some of Mr. StotJilard'a grateful
pupils seek the hallowed spot where they may recall his blessed
example, aud dwell upon the words of holy cheer which he left to
stimulate them in efforts for the salvation of their benighted people.
About two weeks since, as I was ^miking, one Sabbath evening, upon
the terraced roof of our dwelling, my attention was arrested by the
sound of mingled voices singing, in Syriac, the hymns our departed
brother so much loved. Turning to find from whence the music pro-
ceeded, I was touched to see some of the pupils of the seraiDary gtand-
iag by the grave of their beloved teacher, and surrounding it with
sweet songs of praise. I stood for a moment lost in deep emotion. No
incident of my life can leave a happier impression upon memory's page
than these Fongs of Zion, sung in a strange land and in a foreign
tongue, around the grave of the faithful missionary. Blessed rest,
! After a life of self-denying toil, to be tJius enshrined in the hearts of a
H grateful people. Who would wish a better monument than tliose sotigs
VOL. LXXXVIII. NO, 182. 21

242 THOMPSON'S LIVB OV STOBDABD. [Jia

of victory which arose above that lowly graye, in the still <
of a Persian skj? When racked with fever, Mr. Sloddaid often i
for the sweet hymns which he had been accostomedi while a clul^ to
repeat at his mother^s knee. And it was a strong trSmte to the aooA-
iDg power of those hymns, that they not only sostained him throaghont
the sorrows and cares of missionary life, bat tfaal^ even in the last
trying hours, the stnuns of Watts, Cowper, and Doddridge were eoB-
missioned, by a hand Divine, to illuminate the dark vallej. JLnd ahd
we deny that, to our own stricken hearts, these simple hynuUi iiezi to
the words of our Saviour, have come even from lus grave like lesves
of healing ? " — pp. 418, 414.

Were it the sole result of the missionary enterprise to
nurture such Christian heroism, to develop in strength aiid
beauty such truly great souls, to bequeath to a grovelling uul
Mammon-worshipping generation such glorious examples of
a higher life, of disinterested love and generous selfnuusrifioeiit
would be worth all the cost expended upon it, and the pntSaoB
lives which have been yielded up to its protracted martyidoa.
It has demonstrated, as no other portions of modem historf
have, the joy-giving power of religious faith, — tiie in<i
ence of the soul of man on its surroundings, its
with the grace of God for its own happiness. But this is not
all. The results of this evangelic labor are beyond estimatBi
except by the Omniscient Mind. Numerically, they may ftil
to satisfy the commercial spirit of our times. The expendituie
divided by the number of converts would, no doubt, show that
a convert costs more than a slave, — perhaps not more than it
costs to kill a man in battle ; all the missionary establishments
in the world might be sustained for several years by the money
wasted in a single campaign. But it must be remembered
that, in a heathen or semi-heathen population, a sunken
foundation must be laid before the superstructure can arrest
the indifferent eye. There are languages — often a debased
paloisy a mongrel tongue — to be learned without grammar or
lexicon, and then to be made available for the uses of instruc-
tion. Sometimes an alphabet must be created. Elementary
treatises on the language, and vocabularies, must often be writ-
ten out. Then comes the work of translation, slow, tenta-
tive, perplexing. Then there is a hold to be gained upon the

1859.] THOMPSON'S MPB OP STODDARD. 243

respect and confidence of an unimpressible people. And,
after all, the chief reliance must be placed on the training
of children and youth, who must be separated from native
associations, kept strictly under Christian influence, and
formed, by the labor of years, for future usefulness as agents
in the evangelization of their race. On many stations the
foundation is broadly and durably laid, and the superstructure
already appears. On others, it is enough for faith and hope,
that devout men and saintly women, adequate to any labor
within the scope of human ability, are giving their best
strength to the work. Scepticism and cavilling as to its
feasibility are unworthy the Christian believer ; for it is im-
plied in his belief that Christianity has for its author the
Creator and Father of the human spirit, and if so, the one
must be adapted to the other. On the Christian theory, the
Christianization of the race is a possible achievement. All
honor, then, and a fervent God-speed, to those who have con-
secrated themselves to its realization.

Dr. Thompson's memoir is worthy equally of its subject and
of the author's reputation. For a very large portion of the
biography, Mr. Stoddard's letters and other writings furnished
the materials. These are given, as they should have been,
in his own words. The connecting narrative is vivid, elo-
quent, tender, appreciating. It is the work of a dear friend,
and bears the heart-stamp of early and lifelong affection. The
entire volume proffers numerous claims to an extended circu-
lation. It is of value, as comprising much of the history and
an elaborated view of the present condition of an interesting
people, with many important details in topography and phys-
ical geography. It takes strong hold upon the reader, as the
record of a mind of signal strength and beauty, and of the
highest culture. As a Christian biography, it presents the
interior life of an eminently pure and true and close follower
of the Divine Master. As a memorial of missionary labor, it
is adapted to infuse new confidence in the enterprise, to
nourish the spirit of Christian philanthropy in the churches,
and to raise up those who may fill the places of the departed,
and urge on the work for which they lived and died.

244 white's shakbspeakb. [Jan.

Art. X. — The Works of William Shakespeare, the Pla^
edited from the Folio of MDCXXIIL, with various Read-
ings from all the Editions and all the Commentators^ NoteSj
Introductory Remarks^ a Historical Sketch of the Text, am
Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Drama, a
Memoir of the Poetj and an Essay upon his Genius. By
Richard Grant White. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co.
1858.

During the last ten years Shakespearian criticism has excited
much general regard. The discovery by Mr. Collier of the
old annotated folio of Shakespeare's Plays ; his publication,
first, of the manuscript notes, and then of a Shakespeare with
"the Text, regulated by the recently discovered Folio of
1632," and the fierce controversy which followed, have made
what was before a matter of interest to comparatively few
almost a popular theme. Among the books which that dis-
pute called forth was " Shakespeare's Scholar," by Richard
Grant White of New York, a critical volume of great merits,
which at once placed its author in the foremost rank of Shake-
spearian scholars. We have now the first instalment of a
new edition of Shakespeare's entire works by the same hand,
an edition of a character so marked as to be in some respects
unique.

It will be seen by the title, that the editor has undertaken
a great task. If it has been well performed, the edition will,
beyond dispute, take rank as the best edition of Shakespeare
which has ever been published. Mr. White says that in its
preparation he has spent the greater part of the last five years,
has collated in that time every letter and point of the text,
containing more than one hundred and fifty thousand lines,
with those of the first folio and early quartos, and has care-
fully examined every existing critical edition of Shakespeare's
Works. His first canon has been adherence to the text
of the authentic folio of 1623, excepting where that is
manifestly corrupt or defective. He also claims to have
restored many passages which have been heretofore deemed
corrupt only through ignorance or carelessness; to have

1859.]

white's SHAKESPEARE.

245

amended many undeniably conupt passages which have
hitberto baffled critics and editors ; to have made a frugal
selection from the works of all other commentatora ; to have
adapted his notes to the great mass of intelligent readers ;
to have carefully preserved the rhythm of the prose, as well
as of the verse ; and, lastly, to have accredited to every author
each emendation, explanation, or illustrative quotation which
belongs to him.

The value of an edition of any standard author depends on
two conditions. The first in importance, as in order, is the
purity of its text ; the second, the character of its notes and
other subsidiary matter.

Purity of text, for all scholarly purposes, is the first
requisite, and any deficiency in this respect will inevitably,
in the end, doom an edition, however good otherwise, to
disuse. When Reiske published his famous edition of the
Attic orators, it was so highly ei^teeraed, that reference was
long made, not only to the section of the oration, but also to
Reiske's page. Yet now the severity of modern research has
attained a text so much purcr^ that this edition, despite its
many merits, finds a place only in libraries of reference, and is
no longer included in the private collections of scholars who
can afford only a single copy of an author. It is not, however,
the student who is most concerned in the preservation of the
true text of an author like Shakespeare, No English writer
is so generally and constantly kept in the public mind.
Where one person reads Milton, five read Shakespeare. When
to this general fondness is added scenic attraction, it is no
wonder that so many expressions and turns of Shakespcare*s
thought have stolen into every one's mouth. It is a matter
truly curious, to trace the history of the multitude of phrases
which claim the great dramatist as their parent It has
lately been made a ground of very severe reprehension in
one of our leading newspapers, that a recent School Reader
contains a piece for declamation, ostensibly quoted from the
play of Coriolanus, but really taken from the stage-play, which,
though keeping the same name, has been deformed by altera-
tion and addition. If, then, it is desirable that the boy at
school should speak what are truly the words of Shakespeare,
21*

346 maafs BBJjjmnAEM.

and not interpolated theatrical bombasti it oertainlj is not ieM
to be wished that the parent at home should alio read what
is genuine. The great value of critical study in purifying tte
text of an author is often underrated. In the details it aeeas
trivial. In its results it is indeed fruitfuL If any one will
examine the history of philology^ he will find that, dmiBg
the last fifty years^ philological knowledge has grown bmm
than during eight centuries before. The great cbaraoterisUBfc
however, of the last half-century's study, has been the leeea-
■ion of the text of ancient authors, and the growth of phi-
lology has been in direct ratio to this concentrated leseaieh.

Our second requirement is found in the character of notes
and materials for illustration. In reading an author who has
been dead two hundred years, a commentary is alwagys
needed. Ancient customs are obscure ; words have cbangsd
their meaning, or become obsolete; historical allnsioiiSy ok
vious to a contemporary, require explanation finr men of ktat
date. The utility of commentaries, in short, is so phin^ that
it would need no defence, if the tendency of theoreticel ato^
at the present time were not to dispense with them in ttie
enthusiasm of textual investigation. The danger, till of kAe^
has been of so copious a supply, that the original at last w^
sembles Mathias's Pursuits of Literature, ^ a body of notes
with a poem prefixed," and, like that otherwise ezodknt
poem, bears on each octavo page one line, more or les% of
text, and two double columns, in fine type, of commentary.

Two hundred and forty-two years ago, on the 23d of Apffili
1616, William Shakespeare, a country gentleman, a retired
actor and play-writer of some repute, died in his house on
the banks of the Avon. In the little parish church of Stat-
ford, where the register records the birth of the child in the
simple words, — << 1564. April 26. Golielmus filhts Johah-
Nis Shakspere," — some kindly hand placed a monument
to the memory of the man. On the tablet below the bnst is
the following inscription, which Collier gives literally : —

*' Ivdicio Pylium, genio Sooratem, arte Muranem,
Terra tegit, poprlvs maeiet, OlympTa habeU

'* Stay, Paasenger, why goest thoT by so fiurti
Read, if Uiot eanat, whom eofioTs detlh hatb pfaei

1859.] white's SHAKESPEARE. 247

Within this monvment: Shakspeare, with whume
Quick nature dide : whose name doth deck y tombe
Far more than cost ; sieth all y^ he hath writt
Leaves living art bvt page to serve his witt.

'' Obiit ano Do'. 1616
-^tatis. 63. die 23 Ap'."

To-day this man heads the list of poets. For that monu-
ment, however, more lasting than bronze, which perpetu-
ates his name, he merely supplied the materials. He carved
the stones, but he left them scattered and disjoined. They
were collected, saved from destruction, and put together by
the labor of others. The great master, who should have super-
intended the work, and who alone could finish it as its noble-
ness required, left it for the world to preserve what he seemed
willing to let die. Literary history hardly registers another
instance of such disregard of fame. Of those plays which
have made his name immortal, he himself never published
one. The eighteen which were printed during his lifetime,
and the one which appeared soon after his death, in quarto,
seem to have been stolen from the mutilated manuscript
copies, out of which the players learned their parts. Shake-
speare neither revised either of those quartos, nor sanctioned
their publication, nor even troubled himself to expose the
fraud which had mangled them. Most authors love their
literary progeny, and some apparently love them all the more
as they are ugly and unworthy. Shakespeare seems to have
been almost destitute of such natural affection for his fair off-
spring. He wrote and acted, and when his labor had earned
him a competence, he abandoned pen and stage, went back to
his home in Stratford, and quietly passed the remainder of
his life, with hardly a thought for the future of his dramas.
While he bestowed some care upon his poems, so little did
he apparently regard his reputation as a dramatist, that he
suffered to be issued, during his lifetime, and in hi? name,
six plays so obviously forgeries that Rowe alone of his
editors acknowledges their genuineness. When he died, he
made no provision for preserving his works, or for repudiating
the dramas which had sought shelter under his name.

Seven years after his death the love of two old friends and

248 wmn's sHAKBBnuxi. [Jmrn

fellow-actors gathered together the flcattered drainasi and pob-
lished the result of their efforts in the folio of 162S, the tsMunm
First Folio of Shakespeare's Plays. This famishes for about
half the whole nomber of plays literally the most ancient test
Any sensible man, moreover, after learning the history of tlM
early quartos, cannot fail to see that for tiie remaining pbya
also it affords, beyond the possibility of qnestioni the mott
authentic text.

<< It had bene a thioge, we oonfesse,'' write the editors in their ad*
dress to the readers, ^ worthie to haae bene wished, that the Antibor
himselfe had liu'd to haae set forth, and ouerseen his owne wrbiag^i
Bat since it hath bin ordain*d otherwise, and he by death departed fttMa
that right, we pray yoa do not envie his Friends, die office of their ean^
and paine, to haae collected and published them ; and so to hane p«b*
lish'd them, as where (before) you were abns'd with dione iIoIm^
and surreptitioas copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds ani
stealthes (^ iniarioos impostors, that expos'd them: enen those^ an
now offer'd to yoar yiew car^d, and perfect oi their Hmbes ; and al-
the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he oonceined them.' Wbo^ as ha
was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it
His mind and hand went together : And what he thought, he Tttanl
with that easinesse, that wee haae scarce receiued from him a blot in
his papers."

This First Folio must not be confounded with the otber
folio editions. The works of Shakespeare have been pub-
lished in folio four times. The Second edition in this Unwif
issued in 1632, is scarcely more than a reprint of the Firati
with additional errors in typographical execution. The Third
was published in 1664, being of the same charact^, but in*
eluding Pericles and the six spurious plays. It is now very
rare, and Malone explains this fact by saying that, since it
was printed late in 1664, most of the copies were probably
destroyed in the great fire of London, which occurred in
1666. The Fourth and last Folio appeared in 1685, and
closely resembles the Third. The Second is of some slight
value in correcting a few typographical errors in the First
Folio. The Third and Fourth have not the least authority
in determining the text The First Folio, therefore, is the
chief source whence a text obviously and beyond qnes-

1859.] whitb's shakespeabe. 249

tion authentic can be derived. This fact might seem to
establish a uniform and genuine reading, which could not
be disputed. To such a result, however, there is one se-
rious obstacle, — the great carelessness with which this in-
estimable volume was printed. " Unfortunately," says Mr.
White, " this precious folio is one of the worst printed books
that ever issued from the press. It is filled with the grossest
possible errors in orthography, punctuation, and arrangement."
Words are transformed. Lines are transposed. Capitals and
fall-points often break the connection of a sentence. Verse is
given as prose; prose, as verse. Speeches which belong to
one of the characters are allotted to another. In hort, every
variety of error abounds in this volume, else the prime source
of a correct text.

Such is the character of the First Folio, the oldest con-
fessedly genuine authority in determining the text of the
Plays. About ten years ago, however, a rival authority
was presented, for which were put forth claims go extraor-
dinary, so exorbitant, and so wholly exaggerated, that in the
first storm of opposition its real merits were overlooked. On
more mature deliberation, the most judicious friends of the
new claimant now agree very nearly with the views of some
who most stoutly resisted the first unreasonable demands.
This new candidate was the annotated copy of the folio of
1632, commonly known as Mr. Collier's Folio, the history
of which was related, and its merits discussed, in a former
number of this journal.*

While, on the one hand, Mr. Collier's folio has no absolute
authority in determining Shakespeare's text, it possesses very
great value as a source of conjectural emendation. The nature
of the first folio makes almost any body of emendations valu-
able, nearly in the ratio of its size. Twenty thousand, more
or less, Mr. Collier computes to be contained in his book.
Of this number, one hundred and seventeen are admitted
to be very good solutions of very blind passages, — solu-
tions for which any editor must be grateful. Mr. White
justly says, in his Advertisement, that the importance of this

* North American Review for April, 1854.

250 wmn's SSAXE8F1AB& -[JGnt

very valuable, though nnanthoritatiYe volame, has beeo amoh
underrated by the English Shakespeaxian scholan; that.liie
old corrector certainly possessed the inestimable advantage of
doing his work within about fifty years after ShakeapeanPis
death, — an advantage so immeasurably great, that, instead of
interpreting the agreement of many of his eonjectnxea with
those of later editors as a proof of his authority, it is ratlMr
a subject of wonder that the combined efforts of other oom-
mentators should have elucidated so many passag a wliieh
baffled him.

The story and criticism of Mr. CoUiei's Folio of 1682 maik
an era in the history of Shakespeare's text The eoulwvefay
is dying out Mr. Collier, in his latest work, gives to hia folio
a place not very much higher than it deserves, and the ocmteik
seems at an end, inasmuch as he is now desirous that the an*
notations should pass for their real worth only, not at tiiek
original valuation as a regulator of Shakespeare's text But
by this means a spirit of investigation and interest was aieosedi
to which perhaps in no small degree is due the present new
and excellent edition.

The chief authority and basis of a genuine text must osfr
tainly be acknowledged to be the folio of 1623. From tids
Mr. White has prepared his text with the utmost care, ezamr
ining the readings of every editor, and the notes of evcij
commentator, adopting them when admissible, and reoarding
all that are worthy of preservation. No mere opinion, or
preference, seemed to him a sufficient reason for departing
from that text which alone bears the stamp of authenticity.
Evident corruption of this, and the highly probable restoration
of what accident had destroyed, or the stage copy omitted,
are the only reasons which he regarded as authorizing a devi*
ation from it All readings and quotations, with verj rare
exceptions, are taken from the originals. Every restoration,
emendation, and quotation has been accredited to its author.
The reader, therefore, in every passage finds in chronological
order as much of its history as is valuable. This last feature
is peculiar to this edition. While no^^ superstitious reverence
for the First Folio " prevented the editor from making necessary
corrections, even the slightest deviation from the text adopted

1869.] white's bhakespbake. 251

as the standard is noted, so that the reader has practically the
original text precisely as it stands in the First Folio, and may,
if he chooses, try his own skill in emendation. Without con-
forming to the unsettled orthography of that age, the editor
says that he has attempted to present Shakespeare's words
with even syllabic faithfulness to his usage. Great attention
also has been paid to punctuation, and the editor believes that
this has now been done for the first time, excepting in regard
to some specially controverted passages. His faithfulness
in this most important point has certainly removed a great
many old stumbling-blocks.

From what we have said, it will appear that the first great
claim of this edition on the public regard is its*purity of text.
For more than five years Mr. White has been engaged almost
exclusively in this work. He has subjected the text of Shake-
speare to as severe a revision as German editors have given
to Greek and Latin classics. Numerous errors, slight in
themselves, — such as taking the old long s for /, or the omis-
sion or misplacement of a point, — yet most mischievous in
their results, haye been corrected. A closer study of the origi-
nal has found many passages, which have heretofore been es-
teemed corrupt, and loaded therefore with comments, to be
perfectly simple and intelligible. How much this purification
was needed may be seen in the Advertisement of Johnson
and Steevens, who in 1793 boldly declared that there was no
text of Shakespeare. " The vitiations of a careless theatre
were seconded by as ignorant a press." They consequently
amended as they chose, and discarded, whenever they pleased,
the text which had " stagnated at last in the muddy reservoir
of the first folio." Whether such editions deserve to be hon-
ored by the name of Shakespeare's Works may well be ques-
tioned.

As to explanatory matter, common sense is the characteris-
tic of this edition, both in plan and execution. The first
source of interpretation for a doubtful passage is to be found
in the context, and the elucidation may h& found there far
oftener than is commonly thought. As the fundamental prin-
ciple which governs the formation of the text is adherence to
the reading of the folio of 1623, so the first rule by which

252 white's shakespeabe. [Jan.

Mr. White seems to be consistently and uniformly guided in
preparing his notes and explanations is to make Shakespeare
interpret himself. Out of the passage, its connection, and its
context, he often draws so plain an interpretation that study
only confirms its correctness. As a single example, we may
take the much burdened passage, in " Measure for Measure,"
where the Duke, when he makes Angelo deputy during his
absence, in his address says: —

<* But I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him advertise :
Hold therefore, Angelo,
In our remove, bo thou at full ourself/'

The third line is plainly imperfect. Various explanations
have been given. Johnson thinks it equivalent to " conHnue
to be Angelo." Others think that the Duke gives him then a
written commission. In short, absurdity has reached what in
anything but Shakespearian criticism would be deemed the
very fulness of possible development. Mr. White, however,
says : —

" The sense which those words conveyed is shown ^y the context ;
but by the Duke's remark to Friar Thomas, when, in the next Scene
but one, he speaks of the very act perfonned in this, we may be said to
learn what they actually were, from Shakespeare himself. The Duke
says : —

** I have delivered to Lord Angelo
(A roan of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute power and place here in Vienna. "

He therefore supplies the ellipsis thus: —

**lIold therefore, Angelo [our place and power] " ;

and makes Shakespeare himself furnish the needful aid in a
manner so natural, that it is wonderful that no one has antici-
pated this new and very elegant emendation.

This passage is only a type of many, which we had hoped
to introduce. The four volumes of the Comedies, which make
up the first instalment of the plays, are full of similar striking
interpretations, whose very simplicity and neatness most con-
vincingly prove their merit.

Mr. White seems to have been singularly fortunate in the

1859.] eingslet's miscellanies. 253

pteparation for this work which he received in childhood.
He tells us, in Shakespeare's Scholar, that no annotated edi-
tion of Shakespeare was in his father's house, and that he
read the plays in which he so delighted from a copy of Mr.
Singer's small Chiswick edition, in one volume. Not until he
chanced upon an annotated copy in a classmate's room, during
his Freshman year, did he learn the existence of those difficul-
ties which unconsciously, with the freshness of a new mind,
and by simple study of the text, he had already overcome in
part, and from which he had unawares learned how to grap-
ple with such obstacles. He was thus saved from receiving,
out of mere reverence for the name of their authors, those in-
anities which have been fastened upon the great poet's works
for hardly any other reason. He had learned to look for
Shakespeare's meaning in the words of Shakespeare, not in
the notes of Johnson, Pope, or Malone.

The Introductions to the Plays are excellent The same
quickness which amends the text of ^^ Measure for Measure "
so neatly, finds in the play a passage which conclusively set-
tles the time in which the scene is laid. The explanation is
so clear, that it is strange that the English scholars have over-
looked it. These Introductions contain, not only the last word
which has been uttered and the last fact discovered about
their subject, but contain much that is wholly new, and the
result of Mr. White's own thought

Art. XL— critical NOTICES.

1. — Sir Walter JRaletgh and its Time. With Other Papers, By
Charles Kingslet. Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1859. pp.
461.

This volume consists of articles which have already appeared, with
one or two exceptions, in the pages of Eraser's Magazine and the
North British Review. They are upon various subjects, and form a
valuable collection, embodying much general information, and marked
with all the merits of style familiar to the readers of Mr. Kingsley's

vol. lxxxviil — NO. 182. 22

254 EiKasLET's MISCELLANIES. [Jan.

works. As a critic, he is genial and appreciative in his praise, dear
and decided in his disapprobation. He makes his readers feel that he
has looked deeply into the subject he discusses, and, as a necessaiy
consequence, we are inclined to give faith to his conclusions. He
touches upon the grounds of all true criticbm, as on those of all tme
authorship, when he says, in the la<t article of the present series:
^< If a man has no affection for the characters of whom he reads, he will
never understand tliem ; if he has no respect for his subject, he will
never take the trouble to exhaust it." Mr. Kingsley's articles ^ve
evidence that they have not been hastily or carelessly prepared, and
when he does not rise into the chastened enthusiasm with which he grows
eloquent over a subject or a person near his heart, he at least offers
us a calm and thorough reswne of his authorities and his reasonings.

TIic article on Raleigh is an admirably drawn summary of the promi-
nent events in Sir Walter's life, with their effect upon his character,
through which Kingsley's own reverent and kindly nature is continually
revealing itself. His sympathy with the noble heart of which he writes
glows on every page.

With regard to Tennyson, he kindles into a warmth of enthusiasm
which few readers will consider disproportionate to his subject^ and
shows us the pleasant spectacle of the thorough and hearty admiration
of one man of genius for another. We see that it is not only delight-
ful to the critic himself to have for his subject an author whom he ar-
dently admires, but that it is equally satisfactory to the reader to peruse
an article thus written.

The article on " North Devon " commences with a curt and some-
what irate notice of " Exmoor, or the Footsteps of St. Hubert in the
Wost " : and after a page or two of pungent indignation at the author
and his performance, Mr. Kingsley himself takes up the office of guide,
aiul with his and our old friend, Claude Mellot, the artist, shows us
tlie beauties of North Devon in a series of chapters written with all
his peculiar freshness of description and loving interest in the details
of picturesque rural scenery.

" Alexiuidria and her Schools " embraces four lectures delivered by
the author some time since. They set before us clearly and fully his
research and study on subjects which are shadowed forth to us in
** llypatin," a work remarkable not only for its graphic power and its
(Iranuitic movement, but for the proof it gave of its author's complete
conversance with the deeper and more abstruse connections of the
tlieine and the era he had chosen.

As a whole, the volume before us exhibits the depth and earnestness
of the author's student-nature, as well as the versatility and flexibility of

1859.] A woman's thoughts about women. 256

his intellectual power and the freshness and vigor of his perceptions.
We are glad to see this collection thus arranged, and placed before the
American public.

2. — Legends and Lrfrics. A Book of Verses. By Adelaide Anne
Pbocteb. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1858. pp. 264.

Of the poems in this little volume, many had been previously pub-
lished in the English magazines. Their author, the daughter of Barry
Cornwall, inherits much of the poetical talent of her father, and her
productions are marked with the same inequality perceptible in his.
Many of her pieces, especially the shorter and more impulsive, are full
of pathos and sweetness, original in idea and graceful in execution ;
and linger in the memory long after we have turned over the leaf.
Others are dull, and fail to invite a second perusal. This is a fault,
however, almost inevitable in a studied collection of minor poems, since
many are doubtless allowed place for the purpose of swelling the vol-
ume to the requisite size, and perhaps stand even lower in the estima-
tion of the author than ia^that of the reader. The number oC Miss
Procter's poems, howev^, whi^h ^tain to a positive degroe^f.merif, is^
quite large enoogKto give^her bodk^a pleasant tone, and to render it
an agre^ble ddditibn to the stock of modem poetry.

8. — A WomarCs Thoughts abotU Women. By the Author of " John
Halifax, Grentleman.*' New York: Rudd and Carleton. 1858.

These " Thoughts " are thrown together in quite an attractive form,
and are replete with good sense and calm reflection. Without saying
anything marvellously original, — an achievement, by the way, almost
impossible upon this much-bewritten subject, — the author has arranged
a series of chapters which amply repay perusal, and which place before
the reader in tangible and debatable propositions many of the ideas
which have, hitherto, probably only floated across his mind at intervals.
Somewhat conservative in tone, she abjures all sympathy with the ultra
advocates of woman^s rights, while at the same time, as in the chapter
entitled " Lost Women," and in allusions scattered throughout the vol-
ume, she oflers several sensible and practical suggestions to those who
wish to open a wider sphere of action and a more generous charity to
the poorer and more neglected portion of the sex. The genial sympa-
thy with humanity which pervades the othet works of the author is
equally apparent in this healthful and kindly volume, and a simple

256 sala's journey due korih. [Jan.

dictioD, and a delicate handling of each topic as it arises, add their chann
to the more solid interest which the subject itself awakens at the present
time.

4. — Lectures of Lola Montez (Countess op Landsfeld). Iht
eluding her Autobiography. New York: Budd and Carietoo.

1858. pp. 292.

We naturally look for something sparkling and out of the commoa
course, when we meet with anytliing emanating from a source like that
which gave birth to the present Lectures. And we are not altogether
disappointed ; for, after making allowance for some anomalies of style
and some unnecessary diffuseness, we find many piquant and entertain-
ing paragraphs, enclosing very sensible reflections and shrewd observa-
tions. Most of them are sharply pointed to the reader^s mind, by the
palpable relation which exists between {hem and the life which has
illustrated them, as, for instance, when the lecturer informs us that ^a
runaway match, like a runaway horse, generally ends in a smash-up.*
Several anecdotes are related with spirit, and the range of subjects
touched upon with complete sang-froid jnanifests nearly as much ver-
satility as vanity in this certainly extraordinary woman. She jompt
from politics to cosmetics, and from biography to art, with equal ease,
apparently enjoying her own erratic performance in the highest degree.
In regard to tlie amount of faith to be placed in the autobiographic
portion of the work, each reader is, of course, at liberty to follow his
previous bias on the subject

5. — A Journey Due Norths being Notes of a Residence in Russia, By
Geokge Augustus Sala. Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1858.
pp. 459.

The abundance of books of travel which issue from the press is
equalled by the good-natured readiness with which, for the most part,
they are welcomed by the public If a traveller penetrates a step into
a strange country, he wins readers by the simple announcement of
his having done so; if he treads only upon familiar ground, he has
but to suggest that he has looked with different eyes upon external ob-
jects, or, better still, to assert that he has had extraordinary facilities
tor observing interior movements, and liundreds are eager to know more
of countries of which th<!y already know so much. A writer who has
but to set down those things which he has seen and heard, has a com-

1859.]

SALVs journey due NOME.

257

paralivcly easy task in the way of book- making, when he undertakes to
supply his publisher with a given number of pages ; for» with a fair
share of discrimination in making hi8 selection of experiences and
tableaux, be may go on swimming in shallow water to tlie end, and
leave his readers to supply whatever reflections they please. None
the less for all this is the writing of a book of travels a matter of eoo'
scientious or of non-conscientious performance ; and none the less docs
it behoove the writer to do with care and honesty the work which is
set before him, A dashing, rattling, careless account of miscellaneous
sights, though it may aiford amusement, can never be mistaken for a
thoughtful, thorough, and trustworthy statement of matters which de-
serve more than a passing glance.

The " Journey Due North,'* which entitles itself " Notes of a Mesi-
dence in Russia,'* would seem to promise something more than a ram-
bling discourse upon all sorts of subjects, in which Russia forms merely
a text from which to digress at random* Mr. Sala has £lled his pages
with a most wonderful mixture of s^lang phrases and foreign terms, oflen

I felieved, it is true, by sensible observations, and occasionally by ear-
nest thought. He ransacks half a dozen languages to find odd words ;
he Anglicizes French, and Frenchiiiea English, and Germanizes both ;
and the result is a compound which even Young America could hardly
classify, and before which a foreigner must stand helpless and ignorant,
though h^ have a score of dictionaries at his elbow. With the intcn-

Ition, no doubt, of presenting a graphic picture of those tilings which
attracted the author's attention, he piles on foreign and domestic and
homespun adjectives, until the substantive to which they belong is over-
whelmed by their weight, and has to be fished up from among them
like a jewel fallen into muddy waters. This is the more to be regrettedj
as there are frequent indications of power on the part of the writer, which
struggle in vain against his desperate mannerisms* The careless and
almost indelicate tone of many of his comments is also contradicted by
the homage which, in others, he pays to really noble sentiments.

This volume will have, as in some aspects it desei-ves, many readers,

' and, being only an intensification of a certain prevalent style, will not
lack admii^ers for what we cannot but deem positive blemishes. For
the amount of information it contains it has no little value, and we
trust that, if the writer carries out the intention he liints at, of another

I** Journey Due Norlh,^ he will discard the rollicking verbiage of his

I present volume, and continue only his habit of keen observation and

Ifslose scrutiny. Everything pertaining to the country he describes is
now, more than ever before, of interest to the world. There is a fasci-

iiiati«)n about its mingled splendor and misery, its power and its weak-
22 •

358 massbt's history of England. [Jan.

ness, its surface of peace and its strong under-current of unrest. Mr.
Sala's description of the Northern capital may akaost answer for the
whole nation : —

*^ St. Petersburg has been robbed from the river. Its palaces float rather
than stand. The Neva, like a haughty courtesan, bears the splendid shun
upon her breast like a scarlet letter, or the costly giA of a lover she hates.
She revolted in eighteen hundred and twenty-four, she revolted in thirty-nine,
she revolted in forty-two, and tried to wash the splendid stigma away in floods
of passionate tears. She will cast it away from her some day, utterly and
for ever. The city is an untenable position now, like Naples. It must go
some day by the board. Isaac*s Church and the Winter Palace, Peter the
Great's hut and Alexander's monolith, will be no more heard of, and will re-
turn to the Mud, their father, and to the Ooze, their mother." — p. 158.

{], — A History of England during the Reign of George the Third. By
William Massey, M. P. Vols. L and II. London : John W.
Parker and Son. 1855 - 58. 8vo. pp. xxviii. and 552, 472.

Within the last fifteen or twenty years, much light has been thrown
upon the obscure points of English history ; but in respect to no period
has the new information been more copious or more instructive than it
has been in regard to the reign of George III. The publication of the
Cavendish Debates, the Grenville Papers, the Kockingham Papers,
the Correspondence of Lord Chatham, Burke, and Fox, and other trust-
worthy documents, all of which have been printed for the first time
within a comparatively brief period, enables the careful student to
acquire a more thorough and exact knowledge of the secret history of
that memorable reign, than was possessed by most of the conspicuooa
personages in it. Yet it may be doubted whether the time has come for
a full and impartial judgment of the men and measures which have
given it celebrity in English annals. We still have much to learn from
unpublished documents before we can feel perfectly sure of our ground.
In the preparation of the volumes before us, Mr. Massey has made
judicious use of the materials which had appeared in print when he
wrote ; but we are not aware that he has had access to any manuscripts
unknown to previous writers, and in only two or three instances does
he refer to manuscript authorities. His volumes are written with mod-
crate ability, in an unambitious style, and with an evident wish to deal
iiiirly with all parties. In this endeavor he has generally been success-
ful ; and there are not many instances in which it can be justly said
that his judgment has been warped by his prejudices. His views,
however, do not always commend themselves to our favor ; and there

185a]

nrSTORY OF ENGLAND.

259

are several points on which we should be glad to join issue willi him
if we were reviewing his volumes.

His first volume opens with a preliminary chapter, tracing in outhne
the history o.' the reign of George IL, from the fall of Sir Robert
Walpole, and covering about fitly pages. The remainder of the ^
two volumes now pubUshed comprises the first two decades of the
reign of George III., closing with Uie No-Popery riots of 1780.
Throughout the whole of this first part of hiB work Lord Chatham is
the most conspicuous figure on Mr, Massey'a canvas, and he never neg-
lects an opportunity of testifying his admiration for that great man*
Of Burke he says but little, evidently esteeming him far below Lord
Chatham, — an order of precedence which most readers would be in-
clined to reverse. Referring to Burke's oratory, he says ; —

^* The eloqaeace of Burke, which will he studied with deUght as long aa
the language endures, was barely tolerated by a listless and impatient assembly.
Though a master of composition, and accompUshed in all the arts of rhetoric,
he was wholly wanting in the more essential qualifications of an orator. With
the aspect and manner of a pedagogue, a monotonous voice and a provincial
brogue, his singular ignorance of tact and taste gave perpetual oflfence to the
most faslidious audience in the world/' — Vol. IL p, 205.

Again, at a later perio^l, when speaking of that masterly effort of
Burke, the speech on Conciliation with America, he gives a comparative
estimate of Burke, Foxj and Chatham : —

** Burko introduced his scheme w^iih one of those philosophical and eloquent
dissertations which are read with admiration, but were listened ti> with apathy.
Fox denounced Itie government in declamations which carried away the
audience, but which will not bear perusal. Chatham alone recommended the
policy of a statesman, in a speech which combined the better part of oratory
with an elevation and force of style far surpassing the great con tern poraries ,
of his youth or later age." — Vol. II. p. 230.

For the Rockingham connection he exhibits little regard, and he
freely criticises and condemns their policy. His estimate of Junius is
considerably lower than the common judgment, and he even pronounces
the famous epistles which pass under that name ** inflated, exaggerated,
and tiresome." Whatever may be thought of the first two epitheta, it
must be admitted that the last is singularly infelicitous. Into the vexed
question of their authoi-^hip Mr* Masscy does not enter at large, though
he intimates an opinion that they were not written by Sir Philip Fran-
cis, but without propounding any new theory. Of Dr. Franklin he
speaks with the harshness and injustice too common with recent English
writers. His estimate of George III. is substantially the same with
that now entertained by all intelligent and unbiassed persons. In other
respects his characters of the prominent actors in this portion of the
Georgian era present nothing especially deserving of notice.

260 SAHVOBD'S GBBA7 BBBSLLZOIT. {JftO.

His statements are genenUy exMid, bat it is not alurajrs easj to 4
mine what is his own judgment respedingpartioiilar measures or|
lines of policy i and a certain vagoeness of language not mifteqaen^j
leaves us in doubt which side of a disputed qaeetkm he has taaOj
adopted. His narrative is often interrupted bj^digreasiaDa which an
not always pertinent to the sulject under discnssioo, and hj ooDatsnl
references to other portions of English historj. The forgotten ■^■HnTf
and immoralities of that coarse age seem to be espedaMy attnetive to
him, and he reverts to the squabbles of the lojal fiunilf, and to tbe
disgusting profligacy of the nobility and upper clasoesi wifli a 1
frequency. In the minor &cts of his narrative we notiee son
which indicate carelessness on the part of the author or the proof reader.
Thus we are told that *^ Peyton Banddph, Quinoej, Jefieraon, andofliaw^
whose names were soon to become fiunous, are firand among the ttj-alz
members of the first Congress." It is perhaps needless to si^ ttattUa
body did not consist of fifty-six membersi that Qni»7, as tiM name
should have been spelled, was never a member of Coogressi and Unt
Jefferson was not chosen until 1775, whoi he succeeded Randolph, B7
a still more unaccountable blunder, the skirmish at LeTington, the battb
of Bunker Hill, and several other memorable occurrenees of 1775, are
narrated under date of 1774. Tloonderoga is twice spelled Tloondei^
ago; Charles River is called the St Charies; and there are other mit*
takes of a similar character which need not detain ns.

Following the example of Lord Macanlay, Mr. Massey has devoted
an entire chapter, of about a hundred pages, to the social ocmdition cf
England at the conmiencement of the reign of George IIL In this
chapter he has collected much curious information, but little if anj of
it is positively new, and in several instances he has borrowed laxgel|y
from his great model. This sketch is to us disfigured by that veia of
coarseness to which we have alluded.

7. — Studies and lUustraiiam of the Great BebeKan. By JoHH
Langton Sanford, of Lincoln's Inn, Barrister at Law. London :
J. W. Parker and Son. 1858. 8vo. pp. 632.

The history of this volume, as related in the Preface, is somewhat
peculiar, and is well suited to excite an interest in the book. Being
unable to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion in regard to the facts on
which historians have based their various estimates of Cromwell's char-
acter, Mr. Sanford determined, more than fifteen years ago^ to make as
complete a collection as possible of Cromwell's letters, with a view to

SANFORD'S ORBAT REBELLION,

a further investigation of the subject He accordingly instituted diligent
search for them in print and among the manuscnpls in the British
Museum ; and at the end of two years he had collected " about three
hundred letters, published and unpublished, and had read through and
re-punctuated into some new sense most of the Protector's printed
Bpeeches." In tlie mean time Mr. Corlyle had prosecuted a similar
course of investigation, the results of whicli were given to the public
in 1845» in ** The Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell/' A por-
tion of ^Ir* Sanford's labors was thus anticipated; and upon the publi-
cation of the second edition of that work, he very courteously commu-
nicated to ]VIr, Carlyle several unpublished letters from his own collec-
tion. Subsequently he resumed his researches, and from the unpublished
Journal of Sir Simonds D^Ewes, the Tanner MSS., and other sources,
he obtained much new and valuable material^ winch he embodied in a
Life of Oliver Cromwell» This work was offered to the London pub-j
lishers in 1850; and declined. Five years later SLr. Sanford " made an*^
other and equally unsuccessful attempt to bring it before the public, in a
reduced and modilied form.*' Fortunately, however, .upon the publica-
tion of John Forster's Biogi-aphical and Historical Essays, in the early
part of 1858, he determined to appeal from the publishers to the reading^
public^ His labors had been twice anticipated, — for the most valuable'
part of Mr, Forster's volumes is drawn almost entirely from tlie Journal
of Sir Simonds D'Ewes ; and in order to secure any credit for his own
researches, it was desirable that some portion at least of their results
should be published without further delay, Tlua has been done in the
volume before U8.

Mr. Sanford is not an easy or an agreeable writer, and in several re-
spects his work ig open to unfavorable criticism. Its arrangement is de-
fective ; and its usefulness is much diminished by the lack of an analyti-
cal table of contents and an index. But it is evidently based upon a
comprehensive study of the subject, and comprises much new and im-
portant information, particularly in regard to the proceedings upon the
hill of attainder against Straffoi-d, and in regard to the attempted
seizure of the five members. Upon several other points it also throws
added light, and its narrative portions are uniformly fnll and minute.
It is divided into ten chapters, of which the first two are merely pre^J
Uminary, and might have been omitted. The firsts which covers kbout '
sixty pages, is devoted to a general and rather unsatisfactory discussion
of the foreign and domestic policy of the later Tudors, and of the first
two Stufirts ; the second treats of Puritanism,, Social and Religious, as it
was exhibited at different periods in its history. The next two chapters
describe, with much and unnecessary detail, the Antecedents and First

362 LETTSBS VBOX HieH LAXITUBBB. [Jan.

Years of King Charles, and tlie Eailj liSd of OHver Cromwell; the
fifth contains a very foil and carefidlj prepared Urt of the memben of
the Long Parliament; and the last five trace the eomse of eirenta
from the first meeting ot that memorable bodj to the doee of the
year 1645. It is in this latter part of the volnma that Mr. SnlM
has embodied most of his new materia], and has given the most
vincing proof of the thoroughness of his researcfaea-

In dealing with the numerous controverted sol^ectB wUdi
his attention^ Mr. Sanford's sympathies are always on the side of the
popular leaders; and he is as ardent an adndrer of Gromwdl as
Carlyle is. Indeed, in his hearfy approval of the measores of the Long
Parliament he goes much fiurther than n est of the recent Eng^ U^
torians ; and in two or three instances he sealonsly defends the course
pursued by Pym and his associates^ against the strictores of Mr. Hat
lam, one of the most candid and impartial of historians. Bat the veal
merit of his volume is not so much in its controversial ability, as in tihe
clearness of its narrative and in the freshness of mneh of the material
introduced in support of its statements. In both these re^MCto it k
a valuable contribution to historical literatnrei and Mr. Sanforffs Uxm
are entitled to grateful acknowledgsient

8. — ^ Tacht Voyoffe.— Letters from Sisfh LaiUudet; Mfiy Sm$
Account of a Voyage in the Schooner Yaehi ^Foamj'^ B5 0. Mi, i»
Iceland, Jan Mayen, and Spitzhergenj in 1856. By LoBD Dm^
FEBiK. [From the Fourth London Edition.] Boston: lUkiior
and Fields. 1^^59. 16a o. f^. 406.

Lord Duffebin's Letters owe their weH-deserved popularity,
partly to the comparative freshness of the theme, and partly to tke
lively and agreeable manner in which it is treated. Sailing from tke
river Clyde early in June, 1856, his Lordship, who is a yoong Iridi
peer of extensive reading and cultivated tastes, successively visited Xee*
land, the still more remote islands of Jan Mayen and SpitzbergeOi and
the coasts cif Norway and Denmark, returning home eariy in tihe
autumn of the same year. Within this brief period he sailed nearly
six thousand miles, and saw many places which are seldom visited bj
travellers. These he has described in a series of letters to his mother,
written in a very spirited and graphic style, and interspersed with soma
curious and pleasant bits of Northern lore, and some excellent versioas
of the Northern sagas. His social position and the personal popukiitj
of one of his fellow-voyagers, a young Icelander who had been studying

lSc9.] ESSARTS'S FRAKCOIS DE MEDICIS. 263

law in Copenhagen, gave him ready access to the best society in Iceland ;
and his picturesque descriptions of Icelandic manners and customs will
be read with especial interest Among the most viyid of these is the
account of a dinner at the Government House in Reykjavik, with his
own after-dinner speech in Latin. His descriptions of scenery are
equally noticeable for their freshness of coloring and sharpness of out-
line ; and there is no more attractive passage in the volume than the
account of his visit to the Geysers. We have also a charming little
sketch of an English home in Norway, and several other descriptions
of domestic life full of simple beauty, besides several poetical pieces of
his own composition, which are not without merit. The best of these
last, we think, is the short poem at the close of the volume, addressed
" To the Figure-Head of the Foam." The Appendix contains the
Thermometrical Observations taken during the voyage. The English
edition, which has been considerably read in this country, is illustrated
by several well-executed engravings on wood. They are omitted in
the American reprint, which, in other respects, is fully equal to the
English copy.

9. — Frangois de Medicis, Roman Historique, Par Alfred des
EssARTS. Paris : Hachette. 1858. 16mo. pp. 343.

The heroine of this interesting historical novel is the famous Bianca
Capello ; but we have to complain that M. des Essarts has perverted
the facts of her story in his endeavor to make her a paragon of beauty
and virtue. Her true story is not written in this romance. Sismondi
and Artaud de Montor relate it in quite another way. According to
them, Bianca was as ambitions, cunning, and unscrupulous as she was
beautiful. She was the mistress of Francis of Florence long before
she became his wife, and even during the lifetime of his duchess. Though
her husband connived at her intrigue, it was found both for her and
her princely lover much more convenient to have him out of the
way ; and his assassination was accomplished by other means than
those which M. des Essarts invents. The attempt to foist upon the
Grand Duke a supposititious child, which, more than anything else, has
given notoriety to Bianca's name, is wholly passed over in this novel.
Indeed, the novel is historical only so &r as a few facts are made the
basis of invented motives and imaginary characters. Historically, this
novel of " Fran9ois de Medicis " is evn ji more gross distortion of fact
than the " Beatrice Cenci " of Guerrazzi. But as a work of art, it is
incomparably superior to that disgusting production. The pictures of

264 noubbisson'b oabbikal db BHatnuuk [Jao.

life in Florence in the sixteenth centmy are findy drawn and eolora^
and we feel as we read all the charm oi that fiucinating region and
that brilliant society. The conrtiers, wits, diphnnats, French, Spanidiy
Venetian, Boman, all pass before ns, and g^pses of the church inleri*
ors vary the pageant of luxurious palace life. As the scenes lie in Ibdy,
we are of course treated to plots and murders; bat there is none it
that nauseous detail of irillany which overloads the pages of EUgnar
Guerrazzi. Neither the love nor the crime is OYerdone, as both would
have been had the whole truth been told about the fidr YenetiaB
runaway.

M. des Essarts's epigrams have not the point of those of TTonwaju
or Voltaire, yet there are several ingenious specimens in that kind in
his novel Perhi^ the best thing in it is the picture of T>^^tfifgiw aft
the court of Francis. The character of Francis is ably, and, on the
whole, fairly drawn. A shade deeper of tyranny and profligaey woold
come nearer to the mark.

10. — Le Cardinal de BtruOe. Sa Vie, 9€$ icriu, 9on Tmp$. Fkr
M. NouBBissoN, Professeur de Fhilosophie k la Faculty des ]
de Clermont Paris: Didier. 1856. 12mo. pp. 268.

The Cardinal de B^rulle was in many respects a remaikaUe i
and many dignitaries of the Church, whose services to the (
order and to theology have been far inferior to his, have been honored
by elaborate biographies. We cannot regard M. Nourrisson's attenqA
to rescue his hero from undeserved neglect as very successfuL He has
not the skill or the learning to make out a good case for the Caidinaii^
and his parallel between Bundle and Richelieu is as feeble as it is pre*
posterous. As a statesman, B6rulle was unlucky, not to say incapidJ6i
His negotiations with Rome, his interposition in the affietir of Henrietta
of England, and his manoeuvres at the French court, were alike fiufams.
We had not expected to see a defence of B^ruUe the politician.

But we had looked to find in this volume a full and satisfiustory his-
tory of the first days of the ^ Oratoire'' in France, of which B&nille
was the founder. This institution, to which the Carmelite foundations
in France were only the preface, was reaUy the monument of the fiunons
Clermont scholar. The walls of that old Gothic chapel, which break
with their quaint buttresses the even arcades of the new Rue de Bivolit
are a better testimony to the zeal and learning ai the reformer of Freneh
monasticism than any record of his transactions in the state. Of this
hopeful religious achievement, M. Nourrisson's account is sadly inade-

1859.] MERRUAU'S EGYPT. 265

quate. He tells just enough to let us see how much more there is to
tell, and how much greater such a theme would become in the hands of
that eloquent Protestant and liberal divine who is, in the Chapel of the
Oratoire, BcSruUe's greatest successor. The life of the Cardinal should
have been written by one of the Coquerels.

M. Nourrisson tells us that the Fathers of the Oratoire have five
several times made the attempt to get their founder into the company
of the Saints, but always without success. They were able, doubtless,
to present some substantial reasons. BeruUe hated heresy with exem-
plary devotion, spoke of it as the chief and crowning sin, advised the
suppression of Protestantism, especially in the siege of Rochelle, and,
except in one or two cases, made full proof of his Catholic faith. He
was orthodox, too, in regard to the Copernican heresy, believing that
the notion of Galileo, that the earth moved round the sun, had only the
doubtful merit of a spiritual symbol. On this theory, he says, the
unchanging and luminous sun may stand for Christ, while the changing
earth is a sign of sinful man. His love of the monastic state, also, if
not 80 ascetic as that of the mendicant orders, was not less sincere. He
would have no man become a monk except from a holy call to that
estate. If he could not work miracles, he had an unbounded belief in
them, and confirmed the story of the carriage which, in passing the bridge
of Biscay, with its precious freight of Carmelite sisters, was preserved
from destruction by invisible spiritual hands, that held it balanced in the
air. Such claims as these has Berullc upon the gratitude of the Vatican.
But the Vatican is not grateful ; it has allowed the fame of its honest
defender to die away, and has spurned the requests of that noble society
which Bossuet eulogized so grandly, and even Voltaire could praise.

11. — VEgypte Contemporaine 1840 - 1857. De Mehemet Alt a Said
Pacha. Par M. Paul Merruau, prdcedce d'une Lcttrc de M.
Ferd. DE Lesseps. Paris: Didier. 1858. 8vo. pp.390.

M. Merruau's work, on Egypt as it is, is not a record of travel, bat
a precise, digested, statistical treatise on the progress of that country
within the last score of years, and on its present condition, political,
military, agricultural, commercial, and financial. The Introduction
gives a rapid historical survey of Egypt, from the remotest time down
to the last days of Mehemet Ali, adopting in regard to the ancient dy-
nasties a somewhat doubtful chronology. The First Book, in six chap-
ters, treats successively of the administrative organization, the Pachas,
Sheiks, and Judges, giving a discriminating estimate of the character

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 182. 23

266 THE SABBATH HTMN-BOOK. [Jan.

of the present ruler, Mohammed Said ; of the system of military ser-
vice and conscription ; of the tenure of land and property ; of the
method of taxation, its advantages and its annoyances ; of free foreign
trade, on the Red Sea and the Mcditcranean ; of the government scboolSy
primary and secondary, military and medical, and of the mission sehool
at Paris. The Second Book, in four chapters, treats of the railway
from Alexandria to Suez ; the IVIahmoudieh Canal ; the steam tow-
hoats on the Kile ; and steam transportation on the Red Sea, with the
proposed canal across the isthmus. The Third Book treats of the re-
forms which have hcen brought about in the interior, especially in the
region of Suudan. The whole work is accurate, candid, and entirely
trustworthy. We have noticed but one error in fact, and that very
trilling. Abbas Pacha was not, as M. Merruau says, the son of
Ibrahim, but the son of an older brother of Ibrahim.

12. — 77ic Scihhath Hymn-Book : for the Service of Smq in (he House
of the Lord, New York : Mason Brothers. 1858. 12ma pp.941.

We confess a general repugnance toward a new hymn-book. The last
twenty years have seen many times that number of new hynm-books,
pleading in sensitive importunity for a place in the public favor. All
religious denominations seem to have felt the impulse to ^' be fruitful and
multiply," as to this cla>s of books. Talent of rare excellence, culture
and skill of the highest order, and preparations of laborious care, with
eminent indorsements, have distinguished this era and kind of compila-
tion, and have contused the public choice by the varied excellences of
the differing collections. Wo comfort ourselves with the belief that the
hymn-book fa no- must be about spent, and we therefore tuni the more
frifiully eye toward this last manual.

The book before us — its compilers severally eminent for the gifts
needed in such a work, one a professor of theology, and conversant
with tli«' ^cntiments fit to be sung, another a professor of sacred rhet-
oric, on \\ I lose irsthetio judgment full rehanoo might be placed, and the
thii-d a professor of music, prepared to meet all the musical necessities
of the work — has choice advantages for winning a wide and perma-
nent accpi>tr.nce. It claims to represent years of studious preparation.
and the careful consideration of all the details of such a work. A pa-
lit lu and ililigcnt inquiry has evidently boon made, througli all the
C'hri"?iia:i centuries, for the religious lyrics, — lirst sung, some of them,
in times ot' .-tinging persecution, others in days of victory : some
in tlic <iknt cell of the monastery, others amid the tramp of armies and

1859.] spraque's American pulpit. 267

the din of battle. The vast store of material thus found gave to the
editors the advantage of a calm, comprehensive judgment in selection.
Hymns of a given period, or of marked peculiarities, could not easily
gain an undue rank ; for among the stores gathered by tlieii* large re-
search, pieces of corresponding value, though in varying forms, would
prevent an excessive draft on any one style or period. We have thus
an admirably adjusted variety, not only of specific sentiment, but of
the phases of poetic genius in Christendom. We esteem this to be
a substantial excellence in a work which is so largely to educate the
mind and heart of the Christian community.

We think this book less damaged by deference to what are commonly
called &vorite hymns, than some others. The editors had courage enough
generally to replace an inferior favorite by a superior composition of
the same class, thus inviting the public mind to a higher line of taste.
We miss, however, a few of the royal old lyrics, which send their time-
soflened strains down to us in cadences touched with such experiences
and associations as can never be dislodged. A few fiat and senseless
stanzas lurk amid the profuse selections, in testimony that Homer still
nods.

For the endless tinkering that has lefl its traces in a few of the
hymns, we have no complacency. It is wrong, and in nearly every
case as hurtful as it is wrong. We wish that no work of the kind had
been done or retained in this compilation.

13. — Annals of the American Ptdpit, or Commemorative Notices of
Distinguished American Clergymen of various Denominations, from
the early Settlement of the Country to the Close of the Tear Eighteen
Hundred and Fifiy-five. With Historical Introductions, By Wil-
liam B. Sprague, D. D. Vol. V. Episcopalian. New York :
Robert Carter and Brothers. 1859. 8vo. pp. 822.

Tnis may not unaptly be regarded as the test volume of Dr. Sprague's
great enterprise. Previously he had appeared as the historiographer
of the denominations to which successively he had been attached as a
member and a minister. But in entering upon a department of the
Church with which he has borne no relations other than those of Chris-
tian friendship, he shows no decline, as to intimate knowledge, tender
appreciation, impartial justice, or enthusiastic admiration of what de-
serves to be praised and loved. No member of the Episcopal Church
could have done the work so well ; for none could have so entirely di-
vested himself of preferences for one or the other wing, or beheld with

268 spbague's American pulpit. [Jan.

so equal a regard the excellent traits and faithful services of those who
had maintained oppasite opinions as to matters in controversj. This
volume embraces some of the best subjects for religious biography that
our country has afforded. There is a very ably condensed memoir of
Wiiitefield. Bishop Berkeley has his place in the catalogue, and is the
subject of an admirably well written, though brief sketch. The early
missionaries of the Society for Propagating the Grospel are worthily
commemorated, and the adventures of some of them have almost a ro-
mantic interest, especially in tliose days of incipient revolution when
the English Church became obnoxious on political grounds. The ec-
centric Samuel Peters furnishes as grotesque a specimen of the oddities
of clerical character as can be found in any divine of the Puritan stock.
The stalwart frame, indomitable spirit, restless industry, and strangely
diversified experiences of good old Bishop Chase, have their fitting
record, as have also the saintly virtues of Bishops White and Gris-
wold ; and neither of these venerable men could have had his person-
ality more clearly figured to the reader's eye by an entire volume, than
it is in the resume of life-incidents by Dr. Sprague, with the accom-
panying letters of his correspondents. Drs. Thomas Lycll, Hugh Smith,
and William Croswell are portrayed in characters which commend them
to the fondest remembrance. Among men less known to fame, we have
a precious memorial of Rev. William Chisholm, one of tlie spirits on
which nature, learning, and the grace of God shed their richest gifts
with full hands, and who fell a martyr to his pious labors during the
pestilence in Portsmouth, Virginia. Among the most attractive of these
sketches is that of the life and character of Arthur Carey, whose ordi-
nation was opposed on the ground of his alleged tendency to Romanism,
but who, whatever his opinions, left — too early, were it not in God's
best time — a memory rarely equalled in the beauty of holiness. But
there is no need of our multiplying specifications, where there is hardly
a name that has not its strong claims upon the reader for historical
associations, eminent position, or signal excellence of mind, character,
and work. Dr. Sprague has been warmly and ably seconded in his la-
bor of love by the prelates and clergy of the Episcopal Church ; yet
they will concur with us in conceding to him the virtual authorship of
the volume. We doubt whether any other man in the country could
command such cheerful and assiduous co-operation as has been ren-
dered to liis urbanity, catholic sympathies, .ind unsurpassed skill in
finding access always to the best authorities. We are glad to know
that the residue of this great work is in an advanced state of prepara-
tion, so tliat the remaining volumes will appear as rapidly as they can
be carried through the press.

1859.] SAWTBR*S NEW TESTAMENT. 269

14. — WiUard Memoir ; or^ Life and Times of Major Simon WiUard;
with Notices of Three Generations of his Descendants, and Two GoU
lateral Branches in the United States ; also some Account of the
Name and Family in Europe, from an Early Day. By Joseph
WiLLARD. With three engravings. Boston : Phillips, Sampson, &
Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 471.

To those who know Mr. Willard, this title is ample guaranty for the
book to which it belongs. There are antiquaries, who thresh the
sheaves of history, throw away the grain, and fill weary volumes with
the chaff. There are others who give us the kernel with the husk ;
and those who cannot digest the husks find enough for nourishment
and delight without them. It cannot be denied, that in this volume
there is much which could feed only an antiquary, or perchance a Wil-
lard loyal to the name. But there is a great deal more which is illus-
trative of times, manners, opinions, and general history. Simon Wil-
lard came to this country in 1G34, and died in 1676. He was a
promment man in the civil and military affairs of the Massachusetts
Bay Colony and the Province of Massachusetts, and his biography is
a history of that eventful period from his point of view. The thor-
oughness of the author's researches has lefl nothing hidden that could
be brought to light ; and the volume is not only entertaining and in-
structive to the general reader, but full of the kind of materials which
the historian needs in order to reproduce the form and features of a
long-past and unfamiliar age. It is, in every sense, a most noteworthy
and valuable work.

15. — The New Testament, translated from the Original Greek, with
Chronological Arrangement of the Sacred Boohs, and Improved Di-
vision of Chapters and Verses. By Leicester Ambrose Saw-
yer. Boston : John P. Jewett & Co. 1858. 12mo. pp. 423.

This, while far from being the great work which was announced in
the pompous advertisements that heralded its publication, is by no
means the utterly worthless book which some newspaper critics have
declared it to be. Had it been modestly issued, it would have found a
limited circulation, and been of some service in the advancement of
Biblical knowledge. It has the merit of adhering closely, (except in a
few specified instances,) to the text of Tischendorf, which most critics
regard as the purest extant. Not a few of the renderings are in con-
formity with the judgment of the best commentators ; and, so far as the
23*

270 bushnell's naturb and the supebnatural. [Jan.

sense is concerned, many of the departures from the common version
are for the better. But, on many texts, we think we see evidence
that the translator had not made himself acquainted with the latest
results of criticism, and there remain very numerous obscurities which
more thorough study would Iiavc enabled him to elucidate. We see no
evidence of the profound and comprehensive scholarship which should
have preceded so bold an enterprise. But the chief blemish of the vol-
ume is the utter lack of good taste which it exhibits. There is not a
chapter which our reverence for the sacred record would sufier us to
read aloud to a promiscuous assembly. A strange passion for the fa-
miliar and the colloquial defaces even the most solemn utterances of the
Saviour, and the most touching scenes of his closing hours. " Thee,**
" thou," and " thy " are changed for the plural pronoun in every instance
except in addresses to the Deity. Much of the good old Saxon of our
common version is discarded. For " Why cumbereth it the ground ? *"
we have, " Why should it make the ground unproductive ? " Eliza-
beth's neighbors " congratulated her " on the birth of her son. The
ravens " have no private room." " This destructible must put on inde-
structibleness." The cherubs have "each six wings apiece." The
" voice in the midst of the four cherubs " cries, " A chocnix [a quart]
of wheat for a denarius [fourteen cents], and three choenices of barley
for a denarius ; and injure not the oil and the wine."

1 G. — Nature and the Svpematurai, as together constituting the One
System of God, By IIouack Busunell. New York: Charles
Scribner. 1858. 12mo. pp. 528.

Tins work it is impossible even to characterize, much less to criticise,
in the brief space which we can now give to it. By Nature Dr. Bush-
nell understands those processes and events which occur in accordance
with fixed laws of causation, whether they are effected by force inhe-
rent in each separate cause, or whether they merely represent a direct
action of the Deity always the same under the same circumstances;
while the Supernatural includes all those phenomena, physical and spir-
itual, which are not in the chain of natural cause and effect. These
two systems, according to our author, are concurrent at all times in the
nnivcrso. Miracles are not confined to peculiar epochs of the world's
history, but are a part of every day's experience. A very large pro-
portion of man's spiritual history falls under this head. In his action
upon the human soul, Ciod is perpetually crossing or superseding the
order of natural causation ; and the powers and operations of the re-

1859.] bowditch's Suffolk surnames. 271

generated spirit fall, for the most part, within the lines of the supernat^
ural. Nor have external miracles wholly ceased. The emergent ne-
cessity that they should occupy a conspicuous place in the eyes of the
world has, indeed, not occurred since the primitive age of Christianity ;
but it is by no means certain that it will not recur, — that it may not
now be near at hand. Meanwhile, no age has been without its authen-
tic phenomena, which admit only a miraculous interpretation. This
theory attaches an antecedent probability to the prophecies, revelations,
and miracles recorded in the Scriptures, which, so far from being intru-
sions upon, or interludes in, the order and harmony of the universe,
are coincident with the whole system of its administration. We accept
this theory in its essential features, and rejoice in the ability and lucid-
ness with which it is hero developed. Nor yet have we any conclusive
argument to urge against such miracles, in the common sense of the
word, as are alleged to have taken place in modern times, and even
within Dr. Bushnell's own knowledge. Yet, in the chapter devoted to
this subject, some things are related to which we are hardly prepared to
give full credence. They may have taken place ; but they certainly
need a closer investigation than we feel sure has been given to them.
But whatever may be thought of this one chapter, it may be set aside
without invalidating the general course of argument, in which the au-
thor has rendered a most important service to Christian faith, both as
regards the external facts of our religion and the more recondite expe-
riences of its true disciples.

17. — Suffolk Surnames. By N. I. Bowditch. Second Edition,
enlarged. Boston : Ticknor and Fields. 1858. 8vo. pp. 383.

Mr. Bowditch's plan commenced with " Suffolk Surnames," but has
been so enlarged as to embrace a very extensive survey of our own
country, several copious English lists, and not a few names that are
neither American nor English, The subject certainly is of the driest, —
not so its treatment. The book is full both of wit and humor. It
classifies surnames in the several groups suggested by their meaning or
derivation, and arranges each group in such a way as to bring out the
curiosities, oddities, and incongruities of this department of literature in
the fullest prominence. At the same time there is a liberal intersper-
sion of personal anecdotes, always entertaining, sometimes valuable ;
and without the show of learning and the elaborate dulness of Lower's
book, and other English works on the subject, Mr. Bowditch has con-
trived to give us nearly all of erudition which properly belongs to it.

272 schaff's history of the church. [Jan.

18. — A Text-Book of Cliurch History. By Dr. John C. L. Gibss-
LER. Translated from the Fourth Revised German Edition, by
Samuel Davidson, LL. D., Professor of Biblical Literature and
Ecclesiastical History in the Lancashire Independent College. A
New American Edition, revised and edited by Henry B. Suith,
Professor in the Union Theological Seminary, New York. Vols. L —
III. New York : Harper and Brothers. 8vo. pp. 576, 624, 539.

Gieseler's Church History fills a place in which it has no competi-
tor, and in which it will be prized in precise proportion to the scholarly
tastes and aims of those who use it. The mere reader will have noth-
ing to do with it ; the true student would hardly exchange it for all
else that is within easy reach in the same department. The text is a
mere syllabus of results and facts, drawn up with a sententious brevity
entirely non-German. The notes furnish copious references to original
authorities, numerous verificative quotations, and, in fine, a mass of
materials such as could be gathered from no library in America, and
but few in Europe. At the time of Gieselcr's death, the work was
completed down to the year 1648. The present publication corresponds
with the first two volumes of the original, and extends to 1517. The
first English translation was made by Rev. Francis Cunningham, and
published in Philadelphia in 1836. This was admirably executed, but
in part from an earlier and less perfect edition than was used for the
version now under our notice. It is impossible for us to say how largely
Professor Smith has contributed to make these volumes all that they
arc ; for we have never seen the English edition on which they are
founded. But the reputation of the American editor, and the high or-
der of critical care which has evidently been bestowed on this Ameri-
can issue, incline us to ascribe a large proportion of its value to the
labors of one so well fitted for an editorial task which demanded equal
taste, judgment, and learning.

19. — History of the C/iristian Church, By PniLiP Schafp, D.D.,
Author of the I^istory of the Apostolic Church. From the Birth of
Christ to the Reign of Constant inc, A. D. 1-311. New York:
Charles Scribncr. 1859. 8vo. pp. 535.

With this book we are greatly pleased. It is not so much a
chronicle of facts, as an exhibition of the Christian life of the early
centuries. At the commencement of each section a list of authorities
for its contents is given, and from the sources thus indicated the author

1859.] wayland's sermons to the churches. 273

furnishes a free and graceful narrative of what is propcrlj embraced
under the title. In following out this plan, Dr. Schaif often states and
defends his own opinions on disputed topics of dogmatic and ritual
historj, but always with a fair presentation of opposing opinions and
arguments, and in a kind and tolerant spirit He devotes a larger
proportional space than is often given to the literature of the period,
and to the successive stages and agencies in the internal development
of doctrine and church life. The work is equally well adapted to the
needs of the student and the edification of the general reader.

20. — 1. Sermons to the Churches, By Francis Wayland. New
York : Sheldon, Blakeman, & Co. 1858. 12mo. pp. 281.

2. Discourses on Common Topics of Christian Faith and Practice.
By James W. Alexander, D. D. New York : Charles Scribner.
1858. 8vo. pp. 463.

8. Practical Sermons. By Nathaniel W. Taylor, D. D., late
Dwight Professor of Didactic Theology in Yale College. New
York: Clark, Austin, and Smith. 1858. 12mo. pp.455.

In no department can we mark a more decided progress, and a
higher standard of excellence, thim in our pulpit literature. It has parted
with its formalism and dogmatism, and is now instinct with earnest life.
Each sect adiieres to its creed, with no less tenacity than in earlier
times ; but the approved Christian teacher no longer seeks primarily
to indoctrinate his fiock, and to beat back the encroachments of heresy.
On the other hand, dogmas are vivified into spiritual forces, and the
aim is to incarnate them in the emotional and active life of the hearers,
and to render them potent in the rebuke of actual sin, the development
of Christian consciousness, and the direction of religious purpose and
endeavor. In these aspects, the three volumes before us merit em-
phatic commendation.

Dr Wayland's volume consists of eight elabomte discourses delivered
on public occasions. They have less rhetorical beauty than some of
his former sermons; but for directness, energy, fervor of appeal and
invective, and pungency of ethical demonstration, they are unsurpassed,
and almost unequalled. They breathe equally the spirit of the eremite
forerunner of the Saviour, and of the loving Apostle that rested on his
bosom. They are addressed in great part to professing Christians, ex-
hibiting with unsparing fidelity their deficiencies, as tried by the evangelic
standard, and urging them to realize, in soul and life, all the contents
of the Christian name. Could sermons of like tenor and aim be deliv-

274 THE OLIVE AND THE PINE. [Jan.

crcd in every pulpit in our land, tbej could hardly fail to be the precur-
sors of that reformation in the churches which alone can act effectuallj
and permanently on the masses of unbelief, indifference, and profligacy.

Dr. Alexandcr*s sermons were delivered in New York, and are just
such sermons as are needed in the great metropolis. They treat of
fasliionablc vices, current literature, amusements, phases of unbelieiy
the temptations of a business life, and the wide range of subjects sag*
gestcd by the needs of the place and the tendencies of the age. They
draw tbcir illustrations from the very topics most familiar to the minds
of the hearers. They are evangelical in tone, simple and chaste in
style, uncompromisingly severe in the denunciation of falsity and wrong,
and, at the same time, not deficient in tenderness and unction.

Professor Taylor's sermons differ widely in character from the last-
named series. Not less practical, they are more exclusively spiritual.
Though preached while he was a city pastor, they are addressed to his
hearers, not as liable to peculiar temptations or called to peculiar duties,
but as immortal souls, and either saints or sinners. The inner life, the
consolations and joys of piety, the goodness of Grod, the foreshining
glories of heaven, are presented with an intensity and vividness indicate
ing the rich and profound deptlis of the author's own happy experienoe ;
while, with equal fervor, yet in a spirit always gentle and loving, the
terrors of the violated law are portrayed, and the overtures of the
Divine mercy held forth to the impenitent^ The mould in which the
sermons are cast retains something of the old-school formalism ; while,
in style and manner, they belong, no less than the volumes with which
we have classed them, to the living pulpit of a living age.

21. — The Oil re and the Pine, Boston: Crosby, Nichols, & Co.
1859. lOmo. pp. lo6.

Of this volume, which will sec the light with the new year, we have
received but a few lea\*es, most of them olive-leaves gathered during a
year's resid(^nce in sunny Spain, bright and green as if fresh plucked.
It is the initial volume of a new poet, or poetess we will say for once,
for the sake of explicitness, though we ordinarily abjure the word.
The First Part is a rhythmical record of travel and experience in the
land of the olive, vividly graphic, rich in poetical thought and imagery,
free in versification, the separate pieces in a very considerable variety
of well-clioson measures. The Second Part consists of poems founded
on Now England scenes and incidents, and is characterized by equal
merit of sentiment and expression. The poems as a whole indicate a

1859,] LONGFELLOW'S MILKS STANDISH. 275

keen eye for the features of landscape, a quick sense of the phases of
human life, delicate sensibilities, and a highly cultivated taste. They
have nothing in them of the intense and passionate vein, which has
been of late worked to excess ; but, for all this, they are only the more
genuine heart-utterances, and must find a more ready access to the ap-
preciation and sympathy of our better public.

22. — The Household Bookof Poetry. Collected and edited by Charles
A. Dana. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 798.

" The purpose of this book," according to the Preface, " is to com-
prise within the bounds of a single volume whatever is truly beautiful
and admirable among the minor poems of the English language." We
rejoice to say that this purpose is very far from being fulfilled. We
miss many poems even more "beautiful and admirable" than the
greater part of the contents of this volume. But that unfortunate intro-
ductory sentence is the only thing in the book which does not merit
the thanks of our public. The selection is made with great skill and
judgment, and from so wide a range of authors that hardly a name of
acknowledged merit is overlooked. Many of the poems, and some of
the choicest, will be new to nearly every reader, being drawn from
sources accessible only to the searcher after hidden treasure. " Es-
pecial care has also been taken to give every poem entire and
unmutilated, as well as in the most authentic form which could be
procured " ; and this, though obviously the demand of ^mple honesty,
is a demand so often ignored, that compliance with it becomes a signal
merit. The arrangement is novel; the subjects being classified, and
the scattered poems of each author being brought together only by title
in an alphabetical index of the authors.

28. — The Courtship of Miles Standish, and Other Poems. By Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow. Boston : Ticknor and Fields. 1859.
16mo. pp. 215.

Reading " The Courtship of Miles Standish " aloud has made us
almost converts to the adoption of the classic hexameter for English
poetry. When the tongue is once accustomed to the movement, no
other measure sustains for the ear a fiow of melody so continuous and
unrippled. Then, too, a hexameter verse is complete in itself, — it is
in no need of rhyme, while iambic or trochaic verse without rhyme is

276 bulfinch's age of chivalry. [Jan.

^' blank" in fact, as in name, and, though it may flood the inward
sense with poetic delight, it still leaves in the outward ear an unsatlafied
craving. We are by no means solicitous to determine the merit of
this as compared with Mr. Longfellow's other poems. We have en-
joyed it, and thank him for it. It contains some descriptive passages
of unparalleled beauty; and, if portions of it are woven from the
common fabric of every-day life, the more true are they to ihh massive
and resolute, yet quite prosaic characters of the Pilgrim Fathers and
their daughters. Miles Standish was not a paladin, nor was John
Alden a knight-errant, and Priscilla Mullins was a plain, outspoken
girl, without a particle of romance about her ; and, wliile we might not
have chosen them for "Mr. Longfellow's heroes and heroine, we are
glad that he has chosen them, and has given us so lifelike pictures of
them. The critics who find an anachronism in the treadle of the spin-
ning-wheel are the best vouchers for the general verisimilitude of the
story ; for they show that they have applied the micrometer to every
part of it. Among the other poems in this volume are some of the
author's best pieces, such as " The Ladder of St. Augustine," " The Two
Angels," " The Jewish Cemetery at Newport," and " My Lost Youth."

24. — The Age of Chivalry. Part I. King Arthur and his Knights.
Part II. The Mahinogeon ; or, Welsh Popular Tales, By Thohab
BuLFiNCii, Author of " The Age of Fable." Boston : Crosby,
Nichols, & Co. ISriO. 12mo. pp. 414.

Mk. Bulfinch's "Age of P'ablc," we pronounced, in certain re-
gards, the best among many similar works ; his " Age of Chivalry," no
less worthy of our commendation, is, we believe, unique in its kind. We
are acquainted with no other compendious manual of the mythology of
the Middle Age, — a mythology with as fixed forms, as commonly
received traditions, and as intimate relations with language, literaturCi
and life in its own and succeeding times, as the body of Greek or
Roman fable. This book, therefore, deserves to be studied by those
who are perpetually finding in Dante and Ariosto, Spenser and the old
English poets, and equally in the romance and poetry of our own day,
allusions to mediaeval myths, which convey to them little or no mean-
ing. At tlie same time, those familiar with the ground will not fail to
read with fre-ih interest these stories in the exceedmgly graceful guise in
which -Mr. Bulfinch has clothed them. We can now only express our
emphatic and unqualified praise, alike of matter and manner, alike as to
what the book contains and what it excludes, hoping in a future number

1859.] hovbt's memoir op backus. 277

to make it the text for a prolonged discussion of the myths of '^ the age
of chivaLy." We ought to add, that the work not only appears in
beautiful typography, and with appropriate illustrations, but that, in
addition to such copies as will be sought for a permanent place in the
library, there are for holiday use certain ornamented copies with splen-
didly illuminated and colored engravings.

25. — The Daily Counsellor. By Mrs. L. H. Sigoubney. Hartford :
Brown and Gross. 1859. 12mo. pp. 402.

We have here a brief poem, founded on a text of Scripture, for every
day in the year. It is a volume designed as a companion and guide for
private devotion. Such a book, from one whose mere name is a suffi-
cient guaranty for the singleness of purpose in which it had birth, is
above criticism. Yet it need not shrink from a severe critical test.
The separate pieces are, with hardly an exception, of a high order of
positive merit, both rhythmical and poetical, while, negatively, they are
free from that besetting sin of hymn-writers and devotional poets, —
the overlaying of sacred and Scriptural thought with their own con-
ceits and prettinesses.

26. — A Memoir of the Life and Times of the Rev. Isaac Backus,
A.M. By Alvah Ho vet, D. D., Professor of Christian Theology
in Newton Theological Institution. Boston: Gould and Lincoln.
1858. 12mo. pp. 3C9.

We have been doubly disappointed in this book. As a biography, it
fiuls to meet our expectations ; as a contribution to the ecclesiastical
history of New England, it has an importance which only those who
read it can adequately estimate. Mr. Backus was a man of fervent
piety, intense zeal, unresting energy, unflinching tenacity of purpose ;
but of the delicate tracery of character and the more strictly personal
experiences which give individuality and attract interest to a memoir,
the surviving records are few and unemphatic. But for the greater
part of the last century he stood in the van of the conflict for religious
freedom waged by the Baptists with the dominant sect in Massachu-
setts. Few of our readers, perhaps, are aware of the extent to which,
before, during, and for twenty years after the Revolution, the Baptists
were oppressed by the Congregationalists. In numerous instances, their
goods were distrained for the support of the regular ministry ; not only
men, but women, were imprisoned and shamefiilly maltreated for the

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 182. 24

278 FROM NSW YORK TO DELHL [JOD.

non-payment of parish taxes; and afler the law exempted regular
members of their societies from parochial assessment, collectors, con-
stables, magistrates, and even the higher courts, oflen suffered the most
pitiful legal quibbles to cut them off from this immunity. It is a dis-
graceful portion of our history, and in the present equality of all sects
in the eye of the law, and the honored position held by the Baptists, it
is difficult for us to believe that such things have been so recently ; but
here is ample documentary evidence, and it deserves to be faithfully read
and diligently pondered, that we may know how fast and how fisur our
community has made progress in the recognition of those rights of con-
science, no less fundamental and more sacred than the political freedom
for which many of the foremost abettors of this religious persecution
put property and life at hazard.

27. — Black* 8 Atlas of North America, A Series of Tiffeniy Map»^
constructed and en^p-aved by John Bartholomew. With Intro^
ductory Letter-presSj and a Complete Index. Edinburgh : Adam and
Charles Black. 1856. 39 folio pages of Letter-press.

We have, within the last three months, had occasion repeatedly to
refer to this Atlas, and hesitate not to pronounce it, on every account,
by far the best Atlas of North America extant. So far as we have
tested it, it is accurate, minute, and thorough. Its execution is in the
very best style. The outlines are strong, the maps well tinted and
sliaded, the type clear and always legible, the most crowded portions
unblurrcd. It may seem humiliating to send to Edinburgh for maps of
our own continent ; but we are not so stubborn adherents to the " Amer-
ican system " as to prefer inferior home manufactures to the superior
products of the other hemisphere. We are indebted for the copy be-
fore us to Messrs. Little, Brown, & Co., and we trust that they may
tiiid a prompt demand for a work of so essential service and use.

28. — From New York to Delhi, hy Way of Rio de Janeiro, Australia,
and China. By Robert B. Minturn, Jr. New York : D. Ap-
pleton & Co. 1858. 12mo. pp. 488.

This volume consists principally of the narrative of very extensive
inland tours in China and India. The author is a keen and careful ob-
server, and a highly entertaining writer. He visited regions which few
European or American travellers have described, and he is equally skilled

1859.] hurd's law op frbbdom and bondage. 279

and faithful in his delineation of natural scenery, works of art, and
human manners and character. On a few subjects he contradicts our
previous impressions. He places the Chinese higher and the Hindoos
lower on the scale of humanity than we were prepared to find them.
He takes what we cannot but fear is too low an estimate of the evils
resulting from the opium-trade and opium-smoking. But even on this
last subject, his evidently pure and high moral standard attaches weight
to his judgment, though with us it does not countervail the abundant
opposing testimony that has been offered by disinterested witnesses.
On comparing some of his statements with those of Mr. Fletcher, in
his work on Brazil, we are inclined to believe that his sojourn at Rio
de Janeiro was too brief for the perfect accuracy of information, the
evidences of which are patent in every other part of the volume. But,
with these slight abatements, if they are to be made, it is many months
since so well digested, instructive, and interesting a record of travel has
come under our cognizance.

29. — The Law of Freedom and Bondage in the United States. By
John Codman Hurd, Counsellor at Law. In 2 vols. Vol. I.
Boston: Little, Brown, & Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 617.

Mr. Hurd is establishing by this work his claim to be regarded as
among the most sound, able, and learned of the legal writers of his
country and age. He commences with the elementary principles of
jurisprudence, of natural and positive, municipal and international law,
and then traces, on fundamental principles, the effect of international
law on the personal conditions of freedom and bondage. He then fol-
lows out in detail the effect in this regard of the English law on the
American colonies, and the legal history of chattel slavery under the
Roman law, in Christianized Europe, in the colonial possessions of
England, and under the Constitution of the United States. By these
preliminary investigations, which occupy more than half of the first
volume, he establishes a basis for the consideration of the present legal
attitude of slavery in the States and Territories of our Union, under
the law and jurisdiction of the general government, and proposes in
the remaining volume to pass in review the history and condition of
municipal law as regards slavery in the several States. The work is
strictly legal, and excludes all ethical and political discussion. The
mass of authorities quoted, and the evidences of patient labor and pro-
found thought on every page, assimilate the work to those masterpieces
of German scholarship, which are the achievement of a lifetime and the

280 tucker's history of the united states. [Jan.

wonder of an age. At the same time, there is a lucidness of arrange-
ment and a precision of method, which happily distinguish it from the
shapeless masses of erudition that have been so oflen issued from the
Crerman press. Mr. Hurd's style is not always as transparent as hia
method, and a sentence sometimes needs a second reading to be thoiv
oughly understood; but his thought is always clear, and the labor
bestowed in enucleating it is never wasted.

30. — The History of the United States, from their ColonizaHon to the
End of the Twenty- Sixth Congress, in 1841. By Georob Tuckeb.
In 4 vols. Philadelphia: J. Lippincott & Co. 1856-1858. Sva
pp. C70, 518, 526, 507.

Mr. Tucker gives, in a single chapter of a hundred pages, a resumi
of the history of the Colonies prior to the Declaration of Independence,
and the rest of the work is devoted to the Confederation and the United
States. It is a political and national history, rather than a comprehen-
sive narrative of important events, and the author's evident aim is to
present from the Southern point of view such questions and subjects as
have a sectional bearing, and have furnished the grounds of sectional
controversy. Though, in the portions of the work which we have
found time to read, we oflen dissent from him, we render our cordial
testimony to his candor, generosity, and patriotism. He occupies the
ground, which he has an undoubted right to occupy, of a friend of
Southern institutions, with the full recognition, not only of the right of
dissent, but of the prima facie reasons for it, on the part of those whose
social environments and political training have been widely different
from his own. lie is a friend of the Union, and an advocate for mutual
concessions, and believes that the slave question will, in process of time,
become more manageable, by the proportionate diminution of the col-
ored race, and by emigration to Africa, especially if it should receive
efficient aid from the State and General governments. We regret
that we can now afford so little space to a work so able, and hope at
some future time to recur to it for the more thorough examination of
the views which it maintains, and the policy which it defends. Mean-
while we commend it to our Northera readers, ns adapted to make
them, not less strenuous advocates of freedom, but more tolerant of
opinions which must be understood and appreciated before they can be
successfully encountered, on the floor of Congress or from the press.
The argument um ad invidiam has already been urged to a dangerous
extremity ; freedom needs far different weapons and champions.

1859.] STRUGGLES OF THE BARLT CHBISTIAKS. 281

31. — The New American Oychpmdia : a Popular Dictionary of
General Knowledge. Edited by George Ripley and Charles
A. Dana. Vol. IV. Brownson — Chartres. New York : D. Apple-
ton & Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 766.

We can only reiterate, with even stronger emphasis, the commenda-
tion which we have twice given of this work. The fourth volume con-
tains, we think, a greater number of articles that bear the character of
elaborate treatises than either of the preceding ; and in our examination
of its pages we miss no title that deserves a place, and find no traces
of a slackened hand on the part of editors or collaborators. In our
last number we gave voice to a complaint that had been made to us, of
the omission of accents in foreign names. On examination we find
that this omission seldom occurs, except where the established usages of
the press sanction it in a particular type, or in the case of those Oriental
names in which the accents are often arbitrarily inserted, and with no
uniformity of practice.

32. — Arabian Dayi EnieriainmenU, Translated from the German,
by Hebbert Pelham Curtis. Boston : Phillips, Sampson, & Co.
1858. 12mo. pp. 434.

We have here a collection of stories hardly less weird, wild, rich,
and fascinating, than those of the " Arabian Nights." We suppose
them of German authorship ; but they are thoroughly Oriental in tone
and coloring. They will be the fresh joy of children, and will revive
in their elders the gorgeous forms, the fascinating horrors, the dazzling
visions, the preternatural made natural^ which took so strong and
enduring hold on the imagination in their early days. The book came
to hand just as we were closing our labor for the quarter ; but the
stroke of midnight could not persuade us to drop it. It will be eagerly
read, and warmly appreciated, by young and old. The translation is
admirably executed, — so well that it bears all the best marks of origi-
nal authorship ; and aptly designed and finely engraved illustrations
enhance the interest and worth of as charming a gift-book as the holiday
season can furnish.

33. — Struggles of the Early Christians j from the Days of our Saviour
to the Reign of Constaniine. With an Introduction by Rev. F. D.
Huntington, D. D. Boston: John P. Jewett& Co. 1858. 12mo.
pp. 147.

This little book has been prepared from a series of lessons written
24*

282 sraueaus ov the bablt oHBiBxxAirB. {Jaa.

oat by a lady for her Simday-fichool dass. They were compfflej with
no ulterior design; hnt are now given to the poUic becaoM tiie wiiler
had reason to believe that they had served their purpose^ aft onoa in
imparting instmction with reference to a momentous portion of Witnij
for which there was no easily accessible manual within eoinveiii«nt lifl^
its, and in awakening fervent sympathy with the piety and heroitai cf
the martyr-age. The woik is admirably well done, — all tha bettor
because llie making of a book was the unpremeditated xesalt^ and not
the aim. We would coounend it not only to the younj^ bat to :
of every age who have not ready access to more extended
Christian history. The ^struggles of the eaiiy CSoistiaiia'
cious, not only as furnishing edifying ezamplMy but as
essential and unanswerable attestation to the Divine power of <
ligion, and the substantial anthentidty of its records. Thoae
sufferings are here depicted lived near enough to the ChriaHan em |»
know whether there was reasonable doubt of the fiusts that i
truths of our religion, and it is not in the heart of man to
miny, torture, and death, when a reasonable doubt opens a door cf ei^
cape. The victims of the early persecutions were literally i
nesseSf to what they had the means of ascertaining and eveiy i
able motive to ascertain. Indeed, what has been transmitted to oa of
the writings of Celsus and Porphyry authorizes the belief thai the mi-
raculous facts of the evangelic narrative were admitted on all bandit
the only controversy being as to the agency to which they were to be
ascribed, whether Divine or demoniac For the purpose of evidence^
the work before us is complete, as we cannot fitly extend the period of
knowledge from what were equivalent to first-hand sources later 1
the close of the second century from the Apostolic age. And '
not unaptly trace the wisdom of Providence in permitting tihe wgb of
conflict and suffering for the faith to last as long as its adherenti eould
bear luculent testimony to the literal truth of the &cts on wlddh Aeir
belief rested. Subsequent martyrdoms are of worth as indicating the
power of religious trust and consecration, but not as the testimoniea of
those who could speak with authority to men of all times and 1

NEW PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.

A Sermon, addressed to the Second Presbyterian Congregation, Albany, on
Sonday Morning, September 5, 1858, on the Completion of the Atlantic Tele-
graph. By William B. Sprague, D. D., theii Pastor. Albany : Charles Van
Benthuysen. 1858.

Christianity neither Ascetic nor Fanatic. A Sermon, preached at Trinity
Church, New Haven, on the Sixteenth Sunday afler Trinity, 1858, by the
Rev. D. R. Goodwin, D. D., President of Trinity College. New Haven
Sidney Babcock. 1858.

The Central Power of the Gospel : a Sermon, preached at the Installation
of Rev. Grindall Reynolds, as Pastor of the First Church in Concord, Mass.,
July 8, 1858. By Rev. Chandler Robbins, D. D., Pastor of the Second
Church, Boston. With the Charge, Right-Hand of Fellowship, and Address
to the Society. Boston. 1858.

A Discourse on the Life and Character of Hon. James Richardson, delivered
before the First Parish in Dedham, June 27, 1858. By Alvan Lamson, D. D.
Boston : Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1858.

An Address delivered before the Alumni of the Divinity School in Harvard
University, Tuesday, July 20, 1858. By C. A. Bartol. Boston. 1858.

The Pulpit and Rostrum. Sermons, Orations, Popular Lectures, &c., Pho-
nographically reported by Andrew J. Graham, Charles B. Collar, and Felix
6. Fontaine. No. 1. Nov. 15, 1858. Sermon on Christian Recreation and
Unchristian Amusement, by Rev. T. L. Cu /ler, delivered at Cooper Institute,
New York, October 24, 1858. New York : E. D. Barker.

The Mathematical Monthly. Edited by J. D. Runkle, A. M., A. A. S.
Vol. I. No. 1. October, 1858. Cambridge : John Bartlett.

The Democratic Age. Statesmanship, Science, Art, Literature, and Pro-
gress. Edited by C. Edwards Lester. Vol. I. No. 1. October, 1858. New
York : Hale, Valentine, & Co.

Oberlin Students' Monthly. Devoted to Religion, Politics, and Literature.
Vol. I. No. 1. November, 1858. Oberlin: Shankland & Harmon.

The Fortieth Annual Report of the Superintendents of the Portsmouth
South Parish Sabbath School. Presented June 13, 1858. Portsmouth.
1858.

The Transactions of the New Hampshire Medical Society, Sixty-eighth
Anniversary, held at Concord, June 1st and 2d, 1858. Manchester. 1858.

Forty-ninth Report of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions, presented at the Meeting held at Detroit, Michigan, September 7>
10, 1858. Boston. 1858. 12mo. pp. 213.

284 NEW PUBLICATIONS BEC£IVED. [Jan.

Library of Select Novels. No. 209. My Lady Ludlow. A NoveL By
Mrs. Gaskell. New York : Harper & Brothers. 1858.

Ernest Carroll, or Artist-Life in Italy. A Novel in Three Parts. Boston :
Ticknor & Fields. 1859. 16mo. pp. 344.

Physic and its Phases; or, The Rule of Right and the Reign of Wrong.
A Didactic Poem, in Six Books. By Alciphron, ** The Modem Athenian."
Second Edition. London : Simpkin, Marshall, &> Co. 1858. 8to. pp. 103.

The Laying of the Cable, or the Ocean Telegraph ; being a Complete and
Authentic Narrative of the Attempt to lay the Cable across the Entrance to the
Gulf of St. Lawrence in 1855, and of the Three Atlantic Telegraph Expeditions
of 1857 and 1858. With a detailed Account of the Mechanical and Scientiiie
Part of the Work, as well as Biographical Sketches of Messrs. Gyms W.
Field, William E. Everett, and other prominent Persons connected with the
Enterprise. Illustrated with Portraits, Engravings of the Machineiji and
Scenes in the Progress of the Great Work. By John Mullaly, Historian of
the Enterprise. New Yotk: D. Appleton & Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 380.

Safe Home ; or the Last Days and Happy Death of Fannie Kenyon. Bos-
ton : Gould & Lincoln. 1858.

Forty-seventh Annual Report of the Directors of the New Hampshire Bible
Society, presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society, held at Hampton,
August 25, 1858. Concord. 1858.

Speech of Henry Waller, Esq., on the Dred Scott Decision, and other Na-
tional Issues involved in the Senatorial Canvass in Illinois. Delivered on Fri-
day Evening, October 23, 1858, in Light Guard Hall, Chicago. Chicago.
1858.

Sixty-second Annual Report of the Boston Dispensary. Boston. 1858.

Introduction of the Power Loom, and Origin of Lowell. By Nathan Ap-
pleton. Lowell. 1858.

Specimens of the Garbling of Letters, by the Majority of the Trust see of the
Dudley Observatory. Albany. 1858.

Paper on New England Architecture, read before the New England Hi^'
toric Genealogical Society, September 4, 1858. By Rev. N. H. Chamberlain,
of Canton. Boston: Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1858.

Calendar of Trinity College, Hartford, 1858 - 59. Hartford. 185a

The Battle of Life. An Address, delivered before the Thalian and Phi-
Delta Societies of Oglethorpe University, Georgia. By Hon. Hiram Walker.
Macon. 1858.

A Catalogue of the Trustees, Instructors, and Students of Lawrence Acad-
emy, Groton, Mass. October, 1858. Groton. 1858.

A Catalogue of the Officers and Students of Harvard University, for the
Academical Year, 1858-59. First Term. Cambridge: John Bartlett. 1858.

Harvard University. 1858 - 59. Medical Department. Announcement of
the Medical Course, commencing on the First Wednesday in November, 1858.
Boston. 1858.

Catalogus Senatus Acadcmici, et eorum, qui Munera et Officia gessernnt,
quique alicujus Gradus Laurea donati sunt, in Collegio Bowdoinensi, Bnin»>
vici, in Republica Mainensi. Brunswick : Joseph Griffin. 1858.

CONTENTS

No. CLXXXIIL

Abt. Paqi

L Despotism in India • 289

1. A Journey through the Elngdom of Oade, in 1849 -
50. By Direction of the Right Hon. The Earl of Dal-
housie, Govemoi^GeheraL With Private Correspondence
relative to the Annexation of Oude to British India, etc.
By Major-General W. H. Sleeman, K C. B.

2. The Private Life of an Eastern King. By a Mem-
ber of the Household of his late Majesty Nussir-U-Deen,
King of Oude. [William Knighton.]

3. Biographies Index to the Historians of Moham-
medan India. By Sib Henry M. Elliott, K. C. B.

4. The Calcutta Review. Vol. H. Na IV. Article H.
Romance and Reality of Indian Life.

n. Sm Philip Sidney 312

1. The Life and Times of Sir Philip Sidney.

2. Lord Brook's life of Sir Philip Sidney. With a
Preface, etc., by Sib Eoerton Brydoes, Bart, K. J.

3. The Miscellaneous Works of Sir Philip Sidney,
Knt. With a Life of the Author and Illustrative Notes
by William Gray, Esq.

4. The Covntesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by
Sir Philip Sidney, Knight

m. Ancient Architecture 341

1. Illustrated Hand-book of Architecture. By James
Ferousson, Esq.

2. Essays on Architecture. By Professor Got-
FRiED Semper.

IV. Prince Gallitzin 349

Discourse on the Life and Virtues of the Bev. Deme-
trius Augustine Grallitzin, late Pastor of St Michael's
Church, Loretto. Delivered on the Occasion of the Re-
moval of his Remains to the new and splendid Monument
erected to his Memory by a Grateful Flock. By the
Very Rev. Thomas Heyden.

lY OOHTIHTS.

y. BuSHMKLL'S NaTUBS AHD THS SUPSHHATUBAl. • •

Nature and the SapeniatiiTaI,'a8 together it?fwthwifa^
the One System of Qoi. Bj Hobaos BusHinux..

VI. Fbucabt Law or Politioal Dbyblopmbht or CSim.
History

1. Abibtotlb'b Politics.

2. Plato's Bepublic.

8. Opere di GiOYAinn^ Battzbta Yioo, ocdinato ed
illostrate da GnrBEFPB FsEtBABX.

4. n Principe, etc di Nioool5 Maohxayblxj.

5. Hebdbb's S&mmtliohe Weribe.

6. Fbied. y« Sohlbobl's Sitanmtlibhe Wecke.

7. Hegel's Weike. Yollst&ndigeAiiagabedniehdiien
Verein Yon Frennden des Yerewigten.

8. EinldtangindieOeschichtedesNeunsehBte&Jdir-
hunderts. Yon 6. G. Gbbyimits.

yn. La Plata, the Abobntine ComrEDBBAXioiri axd

Pabaguat 4M

La Plata, the Argentine CcmfederatioD, and Pangnqr,
Being a NarratiYe of the Exploration of the IMboteiea
of the River La Plata, and adjacent Oonntries^dnriiMrtlia'
Tears 1853, '54^ '55, and '5^ under the Qrden of dia •
United States GoYcmment. Bj Thomas J. Page.

YHI. Life OF James Sulliyav '448

Life of James SuUivan : with Selections from his Writ-
ings. Bj Thomas C. Amoby.

IX. Palfbet's Histoby of New England 400

History of New England. By John Gobham Pal-
fbey.

x. switzebland 476

La Suisse AUemande et FAscension du Moench. Par
Mme. la Comtesse Doba DIstbia.

XI. Cabltle's Life of Fbedebiok the Gbeat • • • 508
History of Friedrich IL of Prussia, called Frederkk
the Great ^th Portraits and Maps.

Xn. Cbitical Notices 547

New Publications Receiyed 678

Index

NORTH AMERICAN REYIEW-

No. CLXXXm.

APRIL, 1859.

Art. I. — 1. A Journey through the Kingdom of Oude^ in
1849 - 50. By Direction of the Right Hon. The Earl of Dal-
housiey Governor" General With Private Correspondence
relative to the Annexation of Oude to British India^ etc.
By Major-General W. H. Sleeman, K. C. B., Resident at
the Court of Lucknow. In two volumes. London. 1858.

2. Uie Private Life of an Eastern King. By a Member of
the Household of his late Majesty Nussir-U-Deen, King of
Oude. [William Knighton.] Second Edition. London.
1855.

3. Biographical Index to the Historians of Mohammedan India.
By Sir Henry M. Elliott, K. C. B., Foreign Secretary to
the Government of India. In four volumes. Vol. I. Gen-
eral Histories. Calcutta. 1850.

4. The Calcutta Review. Vol. II. No. IV. Article II. Ro-
mance and Reality of Indian Life. Calcutta. 1844.

A PECULIAR value attaches to the description of Oude, in the
late Sir W. H. Sleeman's journal of his tour, as a represen-
tation of the state of the country and its inhabitants, by an
unprejudiced and most competent observer, during the later
years of the native rule. Its value is not merely local and
temporary. As an exhibition of a state of society fast disap-
pearing in the East, and as a picture of the manners of a
Mohammedan kingdom in India, it th.rows back much light,
upon the history of the Great Moguls, and the state of their

VOL. LXXXVIII. — NO. 183. 25

290 DB8P0TIBM IN INDIA. (^Mp4

empire previous to its sabjngation by the English,
to remove opinions which, though still commoUi '
correct. Illusions which remoteness, exaggeration, and id*
mance had created, and which threw a glare of fislse spleactor
over the East, disappear before increasing knowledge, ma the
mirage of the desert vanishes before the eyes of the adTmn-
cing traveller. It may be said with truth, that the popdkur
ideas concerning the history of India are based more on fimej
than on fact The character of recent events is misinterpreted
through ignorance of those which preceded them. The Brifc»
ish possession of India is misunderstood by reason of imper*
feet knowledge concerning the previous history of the coanliy*

For the whole period over which its history extends, India
has been subject to frequent and violent changes in the per*
sons of its rulers and the order of its government Quiet and
security have never been established within it for any long
period. Conquest has succeeded to conquest, — each bringing
a lengthened train of sufferings. The history of the BfohanmM^
dan rule is a record of the misery of the people, resnlting from
the tyranny of the rulers, — a misery which unsettled soeiotj,
destroyed peace, checked progress, and reduced often to ifai
lowest limits the hope of better times. Justice and momlitj
were violated by the strong, and religion did not interfere to
protect the wes^. The gorgeous but incongruous splendoie
of the courts of Delhi and of Southern India were the leflee-
tion of wide-spread ruin and woe. The luxury of palaces wu
the fruit of the spoils of provinces. The gross and sensual in*
dulgences of courts were supported by the booty of towns, end
the distress of their inhabitants. In the accounts given by the
native historians of India, — notwithstanding the cormpticm
of their principles, the depth of their sycophancy, and the ex-
travagance of their hyperboles, — the character of Orients
magnificence is reduced to its true level. The splendors of the.
East walked hand in hand with misery ; the peacock throne
stood on a soil soaked with blood; the gardens of delight
were outnumbered by the deserts of want

However the persons of the rulers might change, the tp^
anny of the rule remained invariable. Revolution in en
Asiatic despotism brought about a change of governoia, but

1859.] DBSPOTISMIN IKDIA. 291

not of government A system dependent on the sole will of
the ruler was subject to no regular modifications, to no laws of
improvement. The personal character of the monarch might
render it for a time better or worse, but individual excellence
could do Ijttleto effect any permanent amelioration. In the
long list of the Mohammedan princes of India, a few names
occur which are still held in honor. Among these no other is
so famous as that of Akber. He introduced many wise and
liberal measures, and cherished generous and enlightened
designs. But even his reign is marked by caprices and cru-
elties, and his character was defaced by sensuality, while the
effect of his wisest measures scarcely lasted beyond his death,
and before the reign of his son had ended, little but the re-
membrance of them remained. In the history of the despot-
ism of the Great Moguls, <' nothing is stable but the absolute
will of the monarch. "

The evils consequent upon a system of unlimited and ir-
regular authority were enhanced by the uncertainty of the
succession to the throne. The death of an emperor was the
signal for intrigues which were led on to bloody endings.
The princes of the royal blood regarded one another with jeal-
ous rivalry. Each had his party of retainers, who had adopted
his caus6 according to the dictates of personal liking or pres-
ent advantage. The mass of the people took no part in the
contest, but suffered from the confusion and devastation which
accompanied it. From the death of Akber to the beginning
of the present century, when the English took possession of
Delhi, — a period of about two hundred years, — there had
been but one undisputed succession to the throne.* Nor was
there any power, after the succession had been settled, which
held the different portions of the empire together by any nat-
ural force. The limits of the state were continually varying,
according to the energy or capacity of successive rulers. The
weakness resulting from a centralization that increased the

* In 1748, Ahmed Shah became Emperor, with no contending claimant for what
was now scarcelj worth contending for. After six troubled years he was yiolently
deposed, and his eyes were pat oat by his conqueror. This patting out of eyes
has been from time immemorial the manner adopted by the powerful in the East
of tidding themselves of a dangerous rival.

292 DB8P0TIBM nr ihdia. [-AttBp

luxury of the court, showed itself in the continaal revolt of
districts, and dropping off of provinces. Deputies of the im^
perial authority were 'often tempted to exercise anthoiUy for
their own ends, and frequently established themselves as in-
dependent rulers. The country was not only impoy^rished by
war, but drained in time of peace, for the support of impeiui
and vice-regal splendor. The wise and much-praised Akbcr
is said to have kept an establishment of five thousand ele-
phants and twelve thousand stable-horses. In his haram
were five thousand women. He amused himself on his birtli-
days, and at other festivals, by being weighed in golden ■calea
against silver, gold, perfumes, and other precious articles in
succession, which were then thrown among the crowd of
spectators. His eulogistic minister, Abt!i-1-Fazl| repieaentB
the royal weighing as having been a device for bestowing
largesses upon, the indigent But the court historian} Abdn*
l-K&dir, less inclined to flattery, gives a different piotoie of
the birthday customs. The king received presents from the
nobles, and from all his attendants, — so that money, food,
perfumes, and even the gains of dancers and fiddkiSi were
brought to the royal treasury. ^ Even I, " he says, ^ this pow-
erless atom, who was held of ho account at all, bad to present
my forty rupees, which received the honor of being accepted.
I do not like my position, and should be glad to be in any
other." * The rich officers of state, taking advantage of their
position, plundered the weak and defenceless, and robbed tbe
possessions of widows and orphans, a portion of which thej
presented as gifts to the monarch. The worthy Sir Thomas
Roc, visiting the court of Delhi, declares he '' never saw sneh
inestimable wealth." The early European travellers were
struck with astonishment at the magnificence of the imperial
displays. " MagnsB regni illius div tisB," wrote the Jesuit
missionaries at the court of Delhi. But the displays of the

* For the accoants of Akber's lavisbDess, (and he was moderate in expeaie <
pared with some of the rulers of India,) see the Ayeeni Akbeii, or tfafi LutitnlM of
the Emperor Akber, bj Abii-1-Fazl, translated bj Gladwin, Vol. L pp. 46, 113^ SS^
and elsewhere. It appears that each of the ladies of the first quality In the haanm
received monthly, according to her merits, from 1028 to! 610 mpees. A rapes to
now worth about half a dollar. Each elephant was allowed from thiee to flft s^
tendants.

DESPOTISM IN DfDIA.

court were the sign of the poverty rather than of the wealth
of the country. The imperial treasury waa insatiable^ and
the scanty earnings of the whole people flowed into the bot-
tomless coffers of Delhi.

Bernier, whose quick intelligence makes him one of the
most trustworthy, as well ag entertaining, of the travellers in
India, in writing to the minister Colbert, points out clearly
the result of the system of extortion by which the imperial
demands were supplied. " Avant que de finir, je dirai d'oii
peut venir que cet Empire du Mogol etant ainsi un abfme
d'or et d'argent, on ne voit n^anmoins pas qu'entre le peuple
il y en ait davantage qu'ailleurs, au contraire le peuple y
paiait raoins pecunieux, et Pargent s'y trouve plus rare, qu^en
beaueoup d*autres endroits. " •

The enervating influences which surround an Asiatic mon-
arch produced their legitimate effect upon the characters of
most of the Great Moguls. Brutal and sensual rulers were
served by brutal and sensual ministers. Gross and disgusting
debauchery prevailed. The affairs of state fell into the hands
of such favorites as best administered to the dissolute pleas-
ures of the monarch* The course of justice was perverted ;
corruption was universal The chief officials, and large land-
holders, secure in distance or in the possession of favor, be-
came the worst plunderers. The government of provinces
was sold out to the highest bidders ; and so long as the reve-
nue was regularly paid, there was no question as to the mode
of its collection. The people were exposed without resource
to the violence of these petty, but absolute tyrants. Whole
regions were devastated, their inhabitants being unable to sat-
isfy the demands made upon them. The people lived in per-
petual fear. The possession of property of any kind was dan-
gerous. Famines, not infrequent from the want of rain, were
enhanced in severity and terror by the ravages of troops and
the extortions of governors. The native chroniclers repeat
frequently, — '* At this time, through warfare and famine, the
country round about became a desert, and uo husbandmen
remained to till the ground.*'

{

294 BBSPOTZSM ZH IHBIA. [Aprfl,

The effect of such a despotism is not merely materiftl, it
is also moral A nation exposed to the unchecked will of
its rulers must sooner or later acquire the vices of alaves.
Sycophancy, falseness, and servility were bnrned into the Hin*
doo character by the hot irons of tyraflny. Cmelty b^at
cruelty, deceit engendered deceit The Hindoos learned, to
regard their rulers as enemies, and the lesson has not yet been
unlearned. The bitter experiences of a thousand years aie
not to be forgotten in a generation.

The illustrations which the Indian historians afford, of the
condition of the country under its native rulers, are such ms
may well furnish excuse for the main faults of tiie Hindoos.
It is a painful task to read them, the sum of misery seems so
great and so needless. But it is these accounts which enaUe
one to understand some of the sources of the strength of the
British empire in India, exhibit some of the dangers which
attend it, and afford a palliation for some of the faults of its
rule. From a few examples we shall see at least by what it
was preceded.

One of the most famous and accomplished princes of the
fourteenth century was Sultan Mohammed, tiie son of Togb-
lak Shah. Some men called him the Just, — but his cradties
were unsurpassed. At one time during his reign, the people
occupying the country between the Ganges and the Jumna
were reduced to such despair by grievous exactions, that they
burned their houses and their grain-stacks, and cast them*
selves as wanderers on the world. Upon this the Sultan gave
orders that all such peasants should be captured and put to
death. He himself moved out with his army from Agra, as
for a grand hunt, encircled a large district, and closing in upon
those who might be found within his lines, caused them aU to
be barbarously put to death. <' In this way, '' says the native
writer, " be depopulated great tracts of his kingdom. " *

Humayun, the son of Baber, and the father of Akber, had

* See ElpbiB8toD6, n. 62. See also Sir Henry Elliott's Index to die
medan Historians, I. 289. This Taloable and learned woik never adTaaetd b^
yond the first volamo. It was cat short bj the nntimelj death of its Mdior. Sir
Henry Elliott had acquired high distinction as a dvil fnnctionaryi and « • i
well versed in Indian literatnre. He was a great kMS to India.

1859.] DESPOTISM IN INDIA. 295

a long and troubled reign in the middle of the sixteenth cen-
tury. His character had some traits of humanity, but his will
was ungoverned, his passions hasty and violent On one oc-
casion, in the year 1536, after a great success in arms, he gave
himself up to indoFence and revelry. His followers imitated
the example of their master. His camp was abandoned to
the excesses of debauchery. It happened one evening, during
this season of uproar, that a party, composed chiefly of under-
officers of the household and the army, — clerks, secretaries,
armor-bearers, and the like, — were feasting together in the
gardens of Halal. One of their number repeated to them the
old story, in its Indian version, but coming down from a far
more distant antiquity, of the farmer and his sons, and the
bundle of sticks. As it was then told, it was said that the
great Tamerlane, in a day of adversity, had taken from each
of his forty attendants two arrows. Tying thenj in a bundle,
he offered it to each in turn to be broken. Then loosing the
bundle, which remained unbroken, he showed how easily each
man could break the two which belonged to him. The moral
was plain. The imaginations, of those who listened to the
story, already, heated by revelry, and by the remembrance of
recent victory, took fire. They resolved to bind themselves
together, and to set forth as conquerors on their own account
Their drunken spirits admitted no delay, and they started at
once on their adventures. The next morning they were
missed, and, their services being needed, a thousand men were
despatched to pursue them and bring them back. They were
soon overtaken, and brought into the imperial presence.

" The day of the week 1 appened to be a Tuesday, when the Em-
peror, according to the fantastic astrological f mcies on which at this
period of his life he acted, clothed in red robes, the color suited to
Mars, the guardian planet of the day, was sitting in state on the throne
of wrath and vengeance. He too, though the judge, was probably still
laboring under the effects of his previous excesses. The deserters
were brought in, in small parties, and sentence pronounced on them
with a capricious cruelty, embittered by the levity with which it was
accompanied. Some were trampled to death by elephants, some were
beheaded, some had their ears and noses cut off, some their fingers
pared away. In the evening, the Imto, or leader of the religious ser-
vice in the mosque, who was a man of no gre&t understanding, read,

296 DUPOUSK or ihbxa; [Apel»

according to dutom, a portkm of the Kioraii, after tbe flnt (
TLe chapter th4t he choae wai that whidi aUudes to the
bj the ^vine wrath, of the .masters of the dephanti who impional^ at-
tempted to destroy the temple of Mekka. It displeased the Emperor,
as it chosen with some allusioQ to his own reeent emplojmeat ; aaA
when the sendee was over, he ordered the Imftm to be troddm la
death bj an elephant^ for charging him, by insinualJODi with ijnaajm
. Mukina Muhammed Beigoli, a learned and saintly personage^ hi^ lis
the Emperor^s favor, interceded for the Lnftmi and pleaded that^ hfbm
an ignorant man, he did not understand the Koraiii and meant no ilL
But .this interference only further enraged the EmperoTi who Teatod
the passion, with which he was still inflamed, in reproadies direelal
against the intercessor himself; and the sentence was cairied iato
effect. When, however, Humayun's rage had somewhat evi^omtod,
and when he had leisure for cool reflectioii, he was seised with Iha
deepest sorrow ar.d remorse, and spent the ensuing night in teaia aai
lamentations.*"— .&iiiW« IRitory of iiic&Vr, IL 68, 69.

Tbe most vigorous of the enemies of Homayun was the
Sultan Shere Shah, who for a lime was master of Delhi mid
of Bengal. He had raised himself from humble atatioii to
be the ruler of this vast kingdom. Hia government waa ener>
getic, and be administered the state with a strong hand, and
with equity enough to call forth the praises of the hiatoviaae
of his reign. But there is a story told of him which affcnrde a
striking parallel in some of its circumstances, and g^vea a hcn^
rid precedent, to the treachery of Nana Sahib, and the maaea-
crc of Cawnpore. In 1543, Puran-Mal, a Rajpoot chieftaiii|
held independent possession of the fort and town of BaiaaiOi
and the surrounding districts. Shere Shah, desirous to bring
him under subjection, directed bis arms against the forty and,
in order to excite the fanatical bigotry of bis Mohammedan
troops, and to give to his proceedings the character of are*
ligious war, he assigned as the ground of his attack the fret
that Puran-Mal, a Hindoo infidel, held as concubines, among
the thousand women of his harem, many of Mohammedan
birth. The siege was long ; the fort was vigorously defended.
At length, pressed by want, the Rajpoot leader agreed to ca-
pitulate, upon condition that he with all his followers and
women should be allowed to retire in safety. The moat aol*
emn pledges were given by Shere Shah for the folfilment of

1859.] DESPOTISM IN INDIA. 297

this agreement Puran-Mal, with full faith, marched out from
the fort, and encamped upon the plain. Thereupon, accord-
ing to the original accounts, several advisers of Shere Shah,
learned in the law, gave it as their opinion that such a treaty
was of no binding force, and that the infidels should not be
allowed to escape. Shere Shah, acting upon their advice,
surrounded the hasty camp of the Rajpoots with his whole
army and his elephants, and poured in upon them a destruc-
tive fi e from bows and matchlocks. The Rajpoots, seeing
that they were betrayed, resolved to sell their lives dearly.
Making a fire in the midst of their camp, they slew all their
women and children, and threw their bodies, together with
all the treasures they had brought from their strong-hold, into
the flames. Then tying themselves together by their girdles,
two by two, they rushed out upon their enemies. They
fought with the energy of. desperation, till every man of them
was slain. Ten thousand men, women, and children are said
to have fallen in this massacre. It was reported, that, of all
the Rajpoot host, but two children were found alive, both
girls, and that the Sultan, with pxcess of malice, gave one of
them to a party of jugglers, and the other to be brought up as
a dancing-girl.*

The magnificent mausoleum of Shere Shah still stands in
the centre of a beautiful tank, in the little town of Sasseram,
his birthplace. It is deserted and decayed, inhabited by a
multitude of bats, and overgrown with weeds. The chain
which supported the lamp that was to be kept burning over
his grave is broken, and no priest recites the prayers of the
Koran for the repose of his soul.

Though such treachery as his is uncommon in the annals
of Indian rulers, treachery on a smaller scale was one of the
most cherished arts of conquest. " Vae victis " was the com-
mon rule of war. With the advance of time there was no
change in the principles or policy of the rule of the strong. A
century and a quarter later, during the long and tormented
reign of Aurungzebe, this monarch also found himself at
war with the Rajpoots. The orders given to his troops were

* Erskine's History, II. 434. Zabdata-T-Tawarikb, in Elliott's Biographical
Index.

298 DESPOTISM IN INDIA. [April,

to cut off all supplies from fugitives, to lay waste the coud-
try, to burn the villages, to destroy the fruit-trees, to carry off
the women and children.* The Mussulmans still venerate
the name of Aurungzebe, and hold his character in admira-
tion. When on his death-bed, in the eighty-ninth year of his
life, he wrote to his youngest and favorite son a letter, in
which he says : " I have committed many crimes, and I know
not what punishment may seize me. The agonies of death
come upon me fast. " f

It would be easy to extend such accounts as these, and to
add to them others of the dissoluteness and venality of mon-
archs, and of the suffering and degradation of their people.
There is not a single reign in Indian history, on which the stu-
dent can dwell with pleasure. The staple of the narrative is
composed of recitals of lust, barbarity, treachery, and tyranny,
with their accompanying evils. During the century that
passed from the death of Aurungzebe to the occupation of
Delhi by the English, and their gain of supreme power in
India, the affairs of the country fell into a tumultuous con-
dition, in which many former evils were continued and aggra-
vated. The despotic influences which had so long moulded
the native character remained in full vigor. There was but
one main circumstance, which, having operated for an unlim-
ited period, still existed to control the elements of social order,
and to check the tendency to its entire disruption. This
was tlie hereditary attachment of the mass of the natives to
their local habitations, and to their system of village gov-
ernment. For the whole historic period, the principle of na-
tionality among the Hindoos has manifested itself almost
exclusively cither in the narrow bonds of clanship, or the still
narrower ties of the village community. In a strict sense, a
Hindoo nation has never existed. Obscure as many of the
causes of this fact may be, certain among them are plain.
There is no ethnical homogeneousness in the Hindoo race ;
the influences of climate and soil have tended to create a self-
indulgent apathy in regard to all the higher principles of
j^ocial life ; and a religious system curiously devised to ex-

■ Elphinstonc's History, II. 462. t Ibid., p. 514.

1859.] DESPOTISM IN INDIA. 299

tinguish the nobler spiritual impulses and to stifle the moral
energies, dating from a period of almost unknown antiquity
and combined with a completely despotic theory and practice
of government, has united with natural causes to prevent the
growth of national interests and the formation of national
institutions. It would lead us too far from our preseut pur-
pose to pursue this inquiry.

Returning, therefore, to our immediate topic, the condi-
tion of India under its native rulers, it is a matter of striking
interest to find how close a parallel is afforded by General
Sleeman's account of Oude to the historical accounts of
greater kingdoms, and to be enabled to fill out from his vivid
and accurate descriptions the picture of the permanent state
of Indian society under its native governments. The kingdom
of Oude embraced an extent of territory of between twenty-
three and twenty-four thousand square miles,* and its pop-
ulation amounted to perhaps four million inhabitants. The
king, surrounded in his palace by favorites of the lowest ori-
gin, given up to the vilest debauchery, neither knew nor cared
to know anything of the real condition of his subjects. The
people were exposed, not merely to the extortions of irrespon-
sible officials, but also to the raids and harryings of powerful
landholders, and to a race of pettier banditti, driven by oppres-
sion, or led by simple love of arms and booty, to levy war
upon their weaker neighbors. The royal troops sent out for
the purpose of collecting revenue, or of reducing some rebel-
lious chief to submission, were ravagers rather than protect-
ors of the land. Living at free quarters, they stripped the
last remnaiit of subsistence from the poor, till robber and sol-
dier had become almost equivalent terms. When the king
moved out from his capital, his line of march was marked by
devastation. The author of that curious book, " The Private
Life of an Eastern King," describing from personal observa-
tion a royal journey, says : —

" The villagers living along the route by which we journeyed were
thrown into consternation by our appearance. The king and his reti-

* A 'territory somewhat smaller than that of New Hampshire, Vermont, and
liaasachntetts combined.

300 DESPonsH nr ihdia. [Apdi

nue had never made their way into this part of the ooa&tiy befen;
and the march of an Eastern sovereign through his domimons is a mI
thing for the people. The king's servants regard themselvea as a
privileged race. They have a right, they think, to the beat of eveiy-
thing, and to as much of it as they please ; so that the plandering
and maltreating of the unfortunate inhabitants went on npon all sidei.
Besides this, was any difficulty to be surmounted, any impassable rasd
to be made practicable, or a new road to be made where road tlien
never had been before, the villagers far and near were turned oat to
do it, — me I and women and children all turned out to work as kog
as the nawab liked, their only pay the abuse and punishment tfaej re-
ceived if the work were not done as speedily as the nawab wished.
People in England may possibly think such a state of things impossible;
people in India, who have visited the territories of any native prinee^
must be aware that it is literally true." — pp. 64, 65.

Barbers, fiddlers, and dancers managed the affairs of the
kingdom, and dispensed the royal favors. There was an open
sale of offices and of justice. Pardon for any crime could be
bought. In the private manners of the court there was nei-
ther decency nor modesty ; in the management of public
business, neither truth nor honor.

" No man feels mortified," says General Sleeman, ^ or apprehends
that he shall stand the worse in the estimation of the government or its
officers, for being called or proved to be a robber. It is the trade of
every considerable landholder in the country occasionally, and that of
a great many of them perpetually. The murder of men, women, and
children generally attends their depredations." — Vol. L p. 806.

The weakness of the government was such, that, even had
it possessed the disposition, it had not the ability, to punish
the crimes of the powerful chiefs. The revenue — which,
owing to the extraordinary fertility of the kingdom, was gen-
erally sufficient, however wasteful the mode of its collection
might be, for the needs of the public service — was spent in
the gratification of most capricious and extravagant fancies.
The pay of the troops was invariably in arrears, and, when
other means failed for meeting their demands, they were sent
out to exact tribute for themselves in the different districts of
the kingdom. The great landholders, chiefs of a spurious
feudal system, were at continual enmity with one another, and

1859.] DESPOTISM rs ikdia)^^^^^"" 301

there was no sovereign force to control their excesses, or to
compel thera to yield to its authority.

** Whenever they quarrel with each other or with the local authori-
ties of the government, from whatever cause, they lake to indiscrimi-
nate plunder and murder over all hmda not held by men of the same
chiss ; no road,, town, village, or Immlet is secure from their merciless
attacks ; robbeiy and murder become their diversion, their import, and
they think no more of taking the hvcA of men, women, and children who
never offended them, than those of deer or wild hogs. They not only
rob and murd<?r, but seize, confine, and torture all whom they suppose
to have money or credit, till they ransom themselves with all they have,
or can beg or borrow. Hardly a day has passed since I left Luck-
now, in which I have not had abundant proof of numerous atrocities
of this kind committed by landholders within the district through
which I was passing, year by year, up to the present day, * . , . .

"I one day asked Rajah Hunmunt Sing how it was that men guilty
of euch crimej4 were tolerated in socitity, and he answered by quoting
the following Hindoo couplet: *Men reverence the man whose heart
is wicked, as they adore nnd make offerings to the evil planet^ while
they let the good pass unnoticed, or with a simple salute of courtesy.* "
Vol Lpp, 322-324,

A feudal system under a weak and disregarded monarch,
in which men should be submitted to none of the restraints
of religion or of a church, without any humanizing practices
resulting from the idea of future retribution, without the
rules of chivalry or the rights of sanctuary, — a system in
which woman should be degraded, instead of being honored,
in which weakness should be a temptation to attack, instead
of a defence from it, — may represent to the imagination the
confused and wretched state of society which lately existed in
Oiide, and which for many centuries prevailed over the greater
part of India. Civilization necessEirily remains stationary in
a country in which the mass of the people have no stimulus
to exertion, and live in constant fear lest even the means of
subsistence be taken from thera. Its advance must always
depend in the first instance upon the prevalence of general
security for life and property. Certain mechanic arts may
flourish among slaves, but the intellect will not exert itself,
and the moral nature urges it to no exertion, when the return

VOL* LXXXVIIl, NO. 183. 26

302 DESPOTISM IN INDIA. [April,

for labor is liable to seizure by another. India, up to the
present century at least, had been continually growing poorer,
and had retrograded rather than advanced in the arts of life,
and in the culture of the understanding. In literature, in sci-
ence, in commerce, in architecture, all her great achievements
date from a very remote time. Ten years ago in Oude, all
that the common people desired was quiet and protection
from spoilers. It was what generation after generation be-
fore them had longed for, and never enjoyed. The pathos
of the following passage from General Sleeman becomes
terrible in its intensity, as one connects it with the long and
dreary annals of the past.

^^ These industrious and unoffending Brahmins say that there

has never been any peace in the district, except during the time of
Hakeem Mehndee, when the whole plain that now lies waste became a

beautiful chummun (parterre) They told me that the hundreds

of their relatives who had gone off during the disorders, and taken
lands or found employment in our bordering districts, would be glad
. to return to their own lands, groves, and trees in Oude, if they saw
the slightest chance of protection, and the country would soon again
become the beautiful parterre which Hakeem Mehndee eft it thirty
years ago, instead of the wilderness in which they were now so
wretched ; that they ventured to cultivate small patches here and there,
not far from each other, but were obliged to raise small platforms,
upon high poles, in every field, and sit upon them all night, calling out
to each otlier in a loud voice to keep up their spirits, and frighten oJBT
the I • r that swarmed upon the grass plain, and would destroy the
whole of the crops in one night, if left unprotected ; that they were
obliged to collect large piles of wood around each platform, and keep
them burning all night, to prevent the tigers from carrying off the men
who sat upon them ; that their lives were wretched amidst this contin-
ual dread of man and beast, but the soil and climate were good, and
the trees and groves planted by their forefathers were still standing,
and dear to them ; and they hoped, now that the Resident had come
among them, to receive, at no distant day, the protection they required.
This alone is required to render this the most beautiful portion of
Oude, and Oude the most beautiful portion of India/' — Vol. U. pp.
85, 8G.

It was not, however, simply by pillage, or by offensive oper-
ations of any kind, that a great portion of the country was ren-

1859,]

DESPOTISM IN INDIA.

ao3

dered unfit for coHivation, The needs wKich even the most
powerful chiefs experienced for their own defence, led to the
withdrawal of large tracts from the uses of agriculture and
the support of life. The country being destitute for the most
part of building-stone, the strong-holds of its lawless land-
owners were made with walb of mud or clay. But these walls
afforded no sufficient protection to their inmatesj exposed as
they were to s^udden and violent attacks. Such forts could
easily be invested, and the garrison, how^ever well supplied,
could at length be reduced by starvation. To afford a barrier
against this danger, it had long been the habit of the owners
of forts to surround them with a wide belt of thick jungle,
which presented almost insuperable obstacles to the rapid and
near approach of any considerable hostile force. Within the
liiViited territory of Oude, nearly nine hundred square miles,
(about four per cent of its whole extent,) were occupied by
jungles kept up simply for these purposes of defence, and for
the subsidiary advantage of providing game and fish for their
proprietors, food for their horses and cattle, and fael for do-
mestic purposes.

"The whole country is a level plain, intersected by rivers, which,
with one exception, flow near (he surface, and Imve either no ravines
at all, or very small ones. The lit lie river Groointec wimU exceedingly,
and cuts into ihe soil in some places to the depth of fifty feet. In
such places there are deep ravines ; and the landholders along the
border improve these nalund ditlieulties by planting and preserving
trees and underwood in which to hide themselves and their followers
wben in arms against their government. Any man who cuts a stick
in these jungles, or takes his camels or cattle into them to browse or
graze without the previous sanction of the landholder, does so at the
peril of his life. But landholders in the open plains and on the banks
of rivers, without any ravines at all, have tlie same jungles. In the
mid-st of this jung'^, the landholders have generally one or more
mud forts surrounded by a ditch and a dense fence of living bamboos,
through which cannon-shot cannot penetrate, and men can enter only
by narrow and intricate pathwajs. They are always too green to be
set fire to, and being within range of the matchlocks from the parapet,
they cannot be cut down by a besieging force. Out of such places the
garrison can be easily driven by shells thrown over such fences, but an
Oude force has seldom either the means or the skill for such purposes.

304 DESPOTISM IN INDIA. [A.pril,

When driven oat by shells or any other means, the garrison retires at
night, with little risk, through the bamboo fenee and surrounding jungle

and brushwood, by paths known only to themselves As soon

as the garrison escapes, it goes systematically and diligently to work in
plundering indiscriminately all the village communities over the most
fertile parts of the surrounding country, which do not belong to baro-
nial proprietors like themselves, till it has made the government ao-
thorities agree to its terms, or reduced the country to a waste." — Vol.
II. pp. 279, 280.

At the time of Sir W. H. Sleeman's journey, we were trav-
elling through Oude. The contrast of the appearance of the
country and its people with that of the neighboring British
territory and subjects, was striking and immediate. Many
tracts of fertile land, even in the neighborhood of towns, were
out of cultivation. Villages were scanty, and of miserable
aspect. In some of them the rows of mud dwellings were set
in opposite lines, their backs forming walls of defence, and the
two ends of the street were closed by walls and gates, for pro-
tection against attack. Everywhere was a look of insecurity,
and an absence of the signs of assured prosperity. No modern
edifices of any size or importance were to be seen outside of
the larger towns ; there were no recent public works, and the
solid buildings of former generations were mostly neglected,
and falling to decay. There was but one well-made, sub-
stantial road in the kingdom, that leading from Cawnpore to
Lncknow; and even upon this road thronged with passengers
and traffic, bands of robbers now and then made descents,
sweeping off cattle, seizing goods, and carrying away women
to be held as prisoners for ransom. The common roads were
little more than bridle-paths, or, if wide enough for carts, were
commonly in the roughest condition. Wild-looking encamp-
ments of troops, regular and irregular, were often seen. Al-
most every man on the roads and in the fields was armed,
carrying a long matchlock, a spear or sword, and a round
shield of buffalo-hide. General Sleeman well describes the
face of the land.

*^ No respectable dwelling-house is anywhere to be seen, and the
most substantial landholders live in wretched mud-hovels with invisible
covers. I asked the people why, and was told that they were always

1859.]

DBSPOTISSI IN INDIA.

305

too insecure to lay out anything in improving their dwcUing-lioiisea ;
and. besides, did not like to have such local ties, where they were so
Itablo to be driven away by the government ofRcers or by the land-
holders in arms against them^ and their reckless followers* The local
ofBeers of government, of the highest grade, occupy houses of the Bame
wretched description, for none of them can be sure of occupying them
•a year, or of ever returning to them again when once removed from
their present ofiices ; and they know tliat neither their successors nor
any one else will ever purchase or pay rent for them. No mosques,
mausoleums, temple^j serascs, colleges, courts of justice, or prisons are
to be seen in any of the towns or villages. There are a few Hindoo
ehrines at the half-dozen places which popular legends have rendered
places of pilgrimage, and a few small tanks and bridges made in olden
times by public officers, when they were more secure in their tenure of
office than they are now. All the fine buildings raised by former rulers
and their officers at the old capital of Fyzabad are going fast to ruin.
The old city of Ajoodhea is a ruin, with the exception of a few build-
ings along the bank of the river raised by wealthy Hindoos in honor of
Ram, who once lived and reigned there^ and is believed by all Hindoos
to have been an incarnation of Vishnoo/'—Voi IL pp. 2G, 27.

Such was Oiide in 1850, In the following spirited dia-
logue, a curious view is given, not only of the distractions of
the land, but also of the theories of history and government
based by the natives upon the facts of which they alone are
cognizant. The whole scene is eminently picturesque.

" In 1847, Lonee Sing, with one thousand armed men and five gun»,
attacked his cousin Monnoo Sing of Mohlee, killed four, and wounded
two persons ; and, in collusion with the local governor, seized upon all
his estate. Redress was sought for in vain ; and as 1 was parsing
near, Monnoo Sing and his brother Chotee Sing came to me at Ma-
homdee to complain. Monnoo Smg remained behind sick at Mahom-
dee ; but Chotee Sing followed me on. He rode on horseback beliind
my elephant, and 1 made him give me the history of his family as I
went along, and told him to prepare for me a genealogical table, and
an account of the mode in which Lonee Sing had usurped the estates
of the other members of the family. This he gave to me on the mad
between Poknapoor and Gokurnath, by one of his belted attendants,
who, after handing it up to roe on the elephant, ran along under the
nose of Rajah Bukhtawur Sing's fine chestnut horse without saying n
word. I a&kcd the Rajah whether he knew Lonee Sing* * Yes,' said
26*

306 DB5PCTi2if m cn>L&. [April,

he : - everTbcdj knows him ; he u c«ie of the ablesu best, mnd moBt
•nhftacrbJ men in Oude ; atnd he keeps his estate in excellent <»der,
acd is re*pe<!:ed bj all people/ - Except his own relation?.' said tlie
belted atteciant : - these he robs of all thev have, ar.d nobody inter-
poses to protect them, because he has become wealihr. and thej have
become poor ! ' * 31 v good fellow.* said the Rajah. - he has only taken
what thev knew not how to hold, and with the sanction of the king's
servants/ 'Yes/ replle^l the man. -he has got the sanction of the
king's f>ervants. no doabt. and anv one who can paj for it mar get thms
now-a-davs to rob others r>f the king's subjects. Has not Lonee Sing
robbed all his cousins of their estates, and added them to his own« and
thereby got the means of bribing the king's servants to let him do what
he Iik*rs ? ' ' What/ said the Kajah. with some aspen t v. - should yoo,
a mere soldier, know about state affairs ? Do you suppose that all the
members of any familj can be equal ? Must there not be a head to all
families to keep the rest in order ? Nothing goes on well in families
or goremments where all are equal, and there is no head to guide ;
and the head must have the means to guide the rest.* ' True/ said the
belied attendant * all can't be equal in the rule of states ; but in ques-
tions of private right the case is different ; and the ruler should give to
everv one his due, and prevent the strong from robbing the weak. I
have five fingers in my hand : they serve me. and I treat them all
alike. I do not let one destroy or molest the other/ • I tell you/ said
the Rajah, with increasing asperity, * that there must be heads of fami-
lies as ATcll as heads of states, or all would be confusion ; and Lonee
Sing is right in all that he has done. Don't you see wliat a state his
district is in, now that he has taken the management t>f the whole
upon himself? I dare i^^ij all the waste that we see around us has
arisen from the want of such heads of families/ * You know,* said the
man, ' that this waste has been caused by the oppression of the king's
officers, and their disorderly and useless troops, and the strong striving
to deprive the weak of their rights/ * You know nothing about these
matters,' said the Kajah, still more angrily. * The wise and strong are
everywhere striving to subdue the weak and ignorant, in order that
thev may manage what they hold better than they can. Don't you
see how the British government are going on, taking country af^er
country, year ailer year, in order to manage them better than they
were managed under others ? and don't you see how these countries
thrive under their strong and just government ? Do you think that
God would permit them to go on as they do, unless he thought that it
was for the good of the people who come under their rule?* Turning
to me, the Rajah continued : * When I was one day riding over the

1859.] DESPOTISM IN INDIA. 307

oountrj with Colonel Low, the then Resident, as I now ride with you,
Sir, he said, with a sigh, ^' In this country of Oude what darkness pre-
vails I No one seems to respect the right of another ; and every one
appears to be grasping at the possessions of his neighbor, without any
fear of God or the king." " True, Sir," said I ; " but do you not see
that it is the necessary order of things, and must be ordained by Provi-
dence ? Is not your government going on taking country after coun-
try, and benefiting all it takes? And will not Providence prosper
their undertakings as long as they do so ? The moment they come to
a stand, all will be confusion. Sovereigns cannot stand still, Sir ; the
moment their heUies arefuU (their ambition ceases), they and the coun-
tries they govern retrograde. No sovereign in India, Sir, that has any
regard for himself or his country, can with safety sit down and say that
his heUy is full (that he has no further ambition of conquest) : he must
go on to the last." ' " ♦ — Vol. II. pp. 90 - 94.

It was but a few years after the date of this striking con-
versation that the British government in India did indeed
" go on to the last, " so far as Oude was concerned. Affairs
in that unhappy kingdom had proceeded from worse to
worse. In 1852, Sir W. L. Sleeman, still occupying the place
of Resident at Lucknow, wrote to the Governor-General:
" There is not, I believe, another government in India so en-
tirely opposed to the best interests and most earnest wishes
of the people, as that of Oude now is. " In February, 1856,
the kingdom of Oude was annexed by proclamation to British
India. In June, 1857, its people were in full rebellion against
British authority. The officers of government were murdered,
captive, or fleeing for their lives. In no other district of India
was the rising against the English so general. It might
beforehand have seemed to a speculative reasoner, that the
nation would welcome with joy the change from a rule so
corrupt and oppressive as that of the native government, to
one steady and comparatively just and liberal, as was that of
the English. But the new settlement of Oude was of too

* " Tho Ilajah'8 reasoning was drawn from the practice in Oude, of seizing
upon the possessions of weaker neighbors, by means of gangs of robbers. The
man who does this becomes tho slave of his gangs, as the imperial robber, who
seizes upon smaller states by means of his victorious armies, becomes their slave,
and ultimately their victim. The history of India is nothing more than the biogra-
phy of such men, and the Rajah has read no other.'*

308 DESPOTISM IN INDIA. [April,

recent a date to have afforded to any large portion of the peo-
ple an experience of its results. They had as yet felt only the
first discomforts of the system. No ties of association or of
personal dependence bound them to their new rulers. The
leaders of the country, officials with their host of menials,
robber chiefs with their dependents, deprived of office, and re-
strained by the strong hand of superior authority, felt that the
change was destructive to their power. They had lost their
accustomed occupations and excitements of marauding and
murdering, of pillaging and torturing. For a time they re-
mained in a state of passive and sullen submission. Bat
when the Sepoy army of Bengal broke into revolt, they
eagerly hoisted the standard of rebellion, and the ferocity
which they had long displayed in their dealings with their
own countrymen burst out with fresh spite ^against their for-
eign rulers. The great robbers flocked in from the country,
with their wild bands, to join the cruel armed rabble of the
city, who through the dreary summer and autumn of 1857
gathered thick around the hasty defences of the Residency at
Lucknow, and strove with continually recruited forces to over-
come the wasting numbers of that heroic garrison.

Whatever wrong England may have committed in the an-
nexation of Oude, in the depriving a brutal king and a brutal
aristocracy of the power of misgovernment, may well seem
to have been expiated in the close trenches of the Residency,
in the fights through the narrow streets of Lucknow, in the
deaths of Lawrence and of Havelock.

We have spoken of the contrast afforded by the aspect of
the adjoining British territory to that of Oude, under native
rule. A similar contrast, though in some respects less
marked, was presented to the country under British rule by
other native states, even those reputed to be best governed.
After observing such visible difference, and after study of the
history of India, it is impossible to hesitate in accepting the
conclusion, that, whatever evils may attend the rule of a for-
eign power, they are vastly inferior to those developed under
the native governments. The British authority in India is
despotic; but its despotism is not that of a single will.
With little restraint upon it from within, it is subject to the

1859.]

DESPOTISM IN INDIA.

309

most compulsory restraints from without. It is practically a
responsible government. All its subjects are entitled to pro-
tection and to justice. The established principle of ita rule
is the promotion of the prosperity of the people, and even self*
interest has furthered the practical application of this princi-
ple. With a full acknowledgment of the many and great
mistakes, of the not infrequent commission of absolute wrong,
by British ofJiciak, and of the very incomplete performance of
their duties, it may yet be safely asserted, that no foreign con-
quered possession was ever governed in the interests of its
people more truly than British India has been during the last
generation* '* I firmly believe/' says the enlightened and
upright Henry St. George Tucker, after long experience and
wide knowledge of Indian affairs, — ^"I firmly believe that
the establishment of the British empire in India is conducive
to the welfare and happiness of many millions of human
beings*'' * Just before leaving India, after thirty-eight years
of faithful service, Sir Charles (afterward Lord) Metcalfe — a
man of the purest virtue and the highest integrity, who had
given form to many important measures, but to none more
important than that securing freedom to the press in India —
wrote, in his answer to a public address : " Our dominion
can only endure by the affections of the people ; by their feeling
that under British rule they are more prosperous, and happy,
and free, than they could be under any other government, and
that their welfare and our rule are linked together. I look to
the liberty of the press as one of those measures which, by
showing the paternal disposition of the government, will tend
to produce that result, — a result not to be expected from a
system of unconfiding restraint, "t

These two passages, to which many of like bearing might
be added from other sources, are of importance, as showing

♦ MemoriaU of Indian Government, being n Seloedon from the Fapcrsi of Hcnty
St GeoFj^o Tucker, Late Director of the East India Company, (etliled by John
William Kayc, London, 1853,) p. 483, This vol time, wiih that of the Life and
Correspondence of Mr, Tucker, coutnins much maitcr of interest and importance
to tho student of the Anglo-Indian policy. Tl-w rncn have bad a more intimate
acfiaaintance with the various details of the British administration of Iiidiai and
few have written more clearly or more ably concerning tbetn.

t Kayc'i Life of Lord Metcalfe, <1854,) Vol. IL p. 331,

310 DESPOTISM IK INDIA. [April,

the deliberate opinions of honest and high-minded men, ^rhose
means of observation and whose powers of judgment pecu-
liarly fitted them for the formation of correct views in regard
to the character and course of the Anglo-Indian government.
The revolt which has lately shaken the British empire in
India to its very centre, affords no denial of them. That re-
volt had its origin in many sources, some of which are easily
seen, while others remain still obscure. But there is no sign
that it in any degree arose from any continued or general
course of tyranny on the part of the government Wounded
pride, alarmed superstition, personal misunderstanding, ab-
sence of sympathetic relations, and inherited hatred of rulers,
were the chief moral agents in its production. By many of
the officers of the government the revolt is even now regarded
with less indignation than disappointment Sincere in their
desire to serve the people of the land in which their lot had
fallen, they have been disheartened to find how little their
efforts had been appreciated, how far their dispositions had
been misconceived. The grand defect of the Anglo-Indian
rule lies, not in its general scope and object, but in the per^
sonal relations of the ruling to the subject race. It is a
defect which only time, and the wider spread and stronger
influence of Christian principles j mong the individuals to
whom the administration of government is confided, can
effectually remedy.

Under the new arrangement which has just been entered
upon for the government of India, a magnificent opportunity
is afforded for the gradual removal of the abuses of the sys-
tem which had grown up under the rule of the East India
Company, for the more rapid and more consistent promotion
of the interests of the people, and for the eradication from
their characters of fome of those faults which previous tyran-
nies had implanted in them. Something of future progress
may be judged from results already achieved. The leaven of
Western civilization has begun to ferment Our pages have
in past years * given accounts of some of the great works of

* Sec North American Review for October, 1853, Art. VI. "Canals of Irriga-
tion in India"; and for October, 1855, Art. XI. " The Opening of the Ganges

Canal."

i&m]

DESPOTISM IN IXDIA.

311

internal improvement undertaken by government, by which
plenty has been secured in districts previously exposed to the
periodical desolations of famine, and peace and civiJlzation
promoted. The story of Colonel Dixon's successful efforts,
by well-planned, mild, and conciliatory measures, to change
the wild and ferocious inhabitants of Mairwara into a peace-
ful and industrious race of cultivators, has the charm of ro-
mance with the interest of reality. Under his admirable
and ingenious management, throughout a tract of rugged
mountainous country, rich cultivation and prosperous vilJa-
ges were substituted for heavy jungle ; industry and afflu-
ence succeeded to rapine and poverty/ There is no paral-
lel to such achievements in the former history of India. To
another distinguished officer, Major (now General) Ludlow,
la due the extinction of widow-burning among the Rajpoot
tribes, with whom the custom was most firmly established, —
a result accomplished by no compulsion, but by patient, ra-
tional, and convincing arguments. In gaining this result a
heavy blow was dealt against the whole fabric of Hindoo
superstition.f Still more recently it has received another
blow in the doing away of the prohibition of the re-marriage
of widows, — a prohibition which had long been a source of
great misery and vice.

Throughout the country such changes as these have been
brought about by English officers, under the sanction and
with the aid of the government. From Lahore to Madras
great works of improvement have been begun, and carried on
to completion. Western energy is changing the face of the
land. The revolt was the last great struggle of the old
against the new, of the East against the West, of false re-
ligion against Christianity, — it was the death-struggle of the
past.

In 1852 the Commissioners of the Punjab presented their
first report on the administration of that country during the
first two years after its annexation to British India. It ended
with the following words : " They [the Commissioners] arc

• See '" Sketch of Mairwara. By Lieut CoL C. J, Dixon/* London. 1850,
t Widow-Bununp. A NHrrativc, By II. J, BojsIiI.j. London. 1 835.

312 SIR PHUiiP siDKET. [April,

not insensible of short-comings, but they will yet venture to
say that this retrospect of the past does inspire them with a
hope for the future."

The first two names appended to this report are those of
the brothers Henry and John Lawrence, — the dead and the
living.

Art. II. — 1. The Life and Times of Sir Philip Sidney.
Boston : Ticknor and Fields. 1859. 16mo. pp. 281.

2. Lord Brook's Life of Sir Philip Sidney. With a Piref-
ace, etc., by Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart, K. J. Kent:
Printed at the Private Press of Lee Priory, by Johnson and
Warwick. 1816. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. pp. 145, 146.

3. T7ie Miscellaneous Works of Sir Philip Sidney, Knt;
With a Life of the Author and Illustrative Notes by Wil-
liam Gray, Esq., of Magdalen College and the Inner Tem-
ple. Oxford : D. A. Talboys. 1829. Post 8vo. pp. 39a

4. The Covntesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir
Philip Sidney, Knight. Now the Sixt Time PvbUshecL
London: Imprinted by H. L. for Simon Waterson and
Mathew Lownes. 1622. 4to. pp. 588.

Mucu has been written in illustration of the Elizabethan
age. Yet the theme has lost none its attractiveness; and
each new attempt to portray the character of the great Protes-
tant Queen, or to make us more familiar with the eminent
statesmen who adorned her court, and the no less eminent
writers who successively arose during her reign, is sure to be
favorably received. Her reign, indeed, forms a conspicuous
era in the political and religious history of England. By her
strong and energetic will Protestantism was firmly established,
and England waged successful war against the greatest of
the Catholic monarchs. Under her imperial sway literature
and tlie arts flourished, a spirit of adventure was rife, and
important maritime enterprises were undertaken. There was
also in the personal characters of the men then prominently
upon tlie stage much to attract the student and to excite an

1859.1

SIR Plltl-IP 81

313

interest in their personal fortunes, apart from the interest felt
in them by virtue of their connection with the state. They
were men of no ordinary mark ; and the circumstances of the
times were such as to call for the exercise of all their powers.
The re-establishment of Protestantism in the place of Ro-
manism, the strengthening of the throne against the dangers
arising from a disputed succession, the prosecution of a for-
eign war, the suppression of domestic violence, and the dis-
entanglement of domestic intrigues, were among the labors
which Elizabeth and her advisers had to encounter ; and these
all involved questions which demanded a large and far-sighted
statesmanship for their solution* Nor was it in politics alone
that the men of that epoch found an ample field for vigorous
exertion. Various causes had contributed to give a strong
impulse to intellectual pursuits, and much of the activity of
the age found expression in prose and verse. In not a few
instances the same persons became famous for their achieve-
ments in both directions, and united the renown of a soldier
•or a statesman with that of a poet or a scholar.

Among the men who wore this double crown with distin*
guished grace Sir Philip Sidney holds the first rank. His
contemporaries regarded him with an admiration which it is
difficult now to understand ; and this feeling was not con-
fined to his own countryraenj but was largely shared by other
nations. Dying at the early age of thirty-two, he left a repu-
tation for intellectual wealth, for personal courage and all
knightly qualities, and for wisdom in counsel, which few men
have been able to build up in a long life. Even down to the
middle of the last century his works continued to be read with
delight, and to be frequently reprinted. But since that time
his reputation as a writer has sensibly declined, and the num-
ber of persons at the present day who are familiar with his
works must be very small. His personal character, however,
is held in scarcely less admiration now than at any previous
period. His name is still one of the most brilliant in English
history, and even the contemporary estimate of his virtues is
accepted with but little qualification.

It is to this admiration for his character, rather than to
any especial interest in his writings, that we owe the prepara*

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 183. 27

314 SIB PHILIP SIDNEY. [April,

tion of the volume named first at the commencement of this
article. The author, who is understood to be a lady of New
York, has accordingly labored to bring into prominent relief
his most attractive personal qualities, and has dedicated the
volume to her son as a '^ memorial of one whose name is a
synonyme for every manly virtue, and whose example, surpass-
ing the standard of the age which it adorned, remains still
brilliant when centuries have passed away." Her knowledge
of the subject is ample ; she has had access to the best sources
of information ; and she has enriched her narrative by many
well* chosen citations from previous biographers and from Sid-
ney's own writings. Her most obvious faults are a somewhat
ambitious and swollen style, and a too uniform strain of pane-
gyric. There is, besides, some confusion in the details by
which she attempts to illustrate Sidney's times. But, with
these qualifications, her work is an interesting sketch, and is
well adapted to its purpose. Nor should we omit to speak
with high commendation of her excellent analyses of Sidney's
writings. They are sufiiciently full and minute to give her#
readers a very fair idea of most of his works, and have evi-
dently been prepared with much care.

The very rare and valuable Life of Sidney by Lord Brooke
is the original authority for many of the well-known incidents
narrated by subsequent biographers. It is the production of
a companion and ardent friend of Sidney, who viewed all
his actions through the colored medium of a strong personal
attachment, and its delineation of his character must be re-
ceived with caution, but its statement of facts is entitled to
full credit. Falke Greville, Lord Brooke, was the son of a
Warwickshire knight, and was born about 1551, — the same
year in which Sidney first saw the light. He was carried
to court at an early age, and there experienced the various
fortunes which awaited the courtiers of Elizabeth, being
alternately in favor and in disgrace. Yet he represented his
native county in Parliament, and held several important
places during her reign ; and at her death he was Treasurer
of the Navy. In the succeeding reign he still continued in
favor, and in 1620 he was raised to the peerage. Early in
the reign of Charles I. he founded a Professorship of His-

1859.1

3IR PHILIP SIBNEY,

315

tory at Cambrkigc; and during his whole life he appears
to have shared the literary tastes of his friend, Hia death
occurred in September, 1628, from the eflect of a wound
received from one of his servants.* Besides the Life of
Sidney, which was published posthuraously, he wrote sev^
eral tragediesj essays, and poentis* Some of these minor
productions were also published after his death ; but they are
strongly marked by the faults of the age, and are now very
little known. His Life of Sidney is an interesting memoir,
and shows considerable mental power in the writer. A Life
of Elizabeth was also planned by him, but it was never com-
pleted, in consequence of the refusal of the Earl of Salisbury,
who was Secretary in the reign of her successor, to permit
him to make an examination of the state papers.

The volume edited by Mr Gray contains all of the works
commonly ascribed to Sidney? except the Countess of Pern*
broke's Arcadia, and the metrical version of the Psalms of
David, which last was partly composed by his sister. It also
comprises a small and valuable collection of his letters, and is
enriched by several illustrative notes. The Memoir is short
and well-written ; but it has the same defects which charac-
terize the two works already mentioned, and is marked by an
extravagant tone of eulogy. There were elements enough of
real excellence in the personal character of Sidney to excite a
well-grounded admiration ; and the writer who attempts to
gloze over his faults, and to deny the licentious character of
his amatory verse, only weakens the lessons which his life is
suited to teach. Yet Mr. Gray " cannot perceive any of that
shocking sensuality'* in Astpophel and Stella which Mr-
Godwin justly condemns, and thinks that *' the unhappy
course of their loves, and the notoriously brutal character of
Lord Rich, may be received as some excuse, if not as a per-
fect justification, of the passionate, yet rarely indecorous, re-
gard which Sidney continued to express in his verses for the
object of his earliest and most vehement attachment/' To

^ Lord Brooke and Sidney were distantly relntcd^ Ancestors of lK)th having
murrted into the family of Lord Bcftachamp. In the epitaph on bis monuracnt at
Warwick, Lord Brooke dcfcribcs himself tm '* Servant to Queen Elizabeth, Conn«
cellor to King JamcB, and Kriond to Sir Philip Sidney/'

316 SIR PHILIP SIDNET. [April,

such weak excuses do biographers descend, rather than ac-
knowledge the existence of any faults or vices in their heroes.
The family of Sidney was of French origin, and traced
its history back to the twelfth century, when Sir AVilliam
I Sidney came over from Anjou w^ith Henry II., to whose ser-

1 vice he was attached as knight chamberlain. His descend-

ants do not appear to have continued at courts and it is not
until the time of Henry VIII. that the family again emerges
into notice. In the reign of that monarch, and of his succes-
sor, Edward VI., another Sir William Sidney basked in the
royal favor, and was rewarded by Edward with the gift of
Penshurst Castle. At his death he left one son, Henry Sid-
ney, who carried the family name to a much higher renoivn
than it had before attained. Born in 1529, this eminent
statcifman held oflice under Edward VL, by whom he was
appointed ambassador to France; and after the death of that
amiable prince he had the good fortune to enjoy the favor of
both Mary and Elizabeth. By the latter he was made Lord
President of Wales, an office which he held for more than
twenty years; and he was also three times named Lord
Deputy of Ireland.* In the administration of the affairs of
this unfortunate country he was not successful; and in 1578
he was ordered to resign his government, in consequence of
the bitter complaints of the English of the pale. Mr. Hal-
lam, indeed, does not hesitate to stigmatize his conduct as
**an attempt to subvert their liberties"; and it seems clear
that the complaints were not unfounded. But he did not lose
the Queen's favor, and he was finally acquitted from all the
charges brought against him.« At an early age he married
Lady Mary Dudley, eldest daughter of the Duke of North-
umberland, by whom he had three sons and one daughter,
the famous Countess of Pembroke. Lady Sidney is described
by Lord Brooke as " by nature of a large, ingenious spirit " ;
but " the mischance of sickness having cast a veil over her
excellent beauty," she did not court public observation, and

♦ lie seems to have declined the last appointment, which was oflcred to him in
1582, cither in consequence of the Queen's refusal to give hii son the reversion of
the oilice, or l)ecause the younger Sidney was unwilling to reside in Ireland.

spent most of her time in the seclusion of private life. It
was probably from his mother that Philip Sidney inherited
the more amiable traits of his character ; and from his father
he undoubtedly derived his enterprising spirit and his fond-
ness for public life.

He was their eldest son, and was born at Penshurst Castle,
in the western part of the beautiful and fertile county of Kent,
on the 29th of November, 1554, the same month in which
Romanism was re-established in England. His name, we are
told, was given him as a well-timed compliment to Philip H.
of Spain, whom Mary had recently married; but it does not
appear that his father felt any special affection for the old re-
ligion, or looked with special favor upon the hated Spanish
marriage* Of his youth little is known eiicept the fact that
he was reputed to be grave and thoughtful beyond his years,
80 that his father called him, in the pedantic phraseology of
the age, lumen families sum* His childhood was probably
passed partly at Penshurst and partly in London, where, ac-
cording to Mr, Peter Cunningham, his grandfather and hia
father successively occupied a house in Thread needle Street,
belonging to the collegiate church of St. George, Windsor,
At an early age he was sent to the grammar school at Shrews-
bury, in order to be near his father, who had taken up his
residence in Ludlow Castle, upon receiving the appointment
of President of the Principality of Wales, Here the boy made
rapid progress in his studies ; and a letter from Sir Henry
Sidney is extant, acknowledging the receipt of two letters,
written when Philip was only twelve years old, one in Latin
and the other in French.

When he was fourteen, he was transferred to Christ Church
'College, Oxford j and, according to all his recent biographers,
he afterwards studied at Cambridge/ At Oxford, his studies
were pursued under the immediate eye of the Reverend Dr.

# TIm eiienntstftQce of bit etadytng at both UniTorsities is not mentioned by his
uiljr Uogrmplieni s ^nd Anthony Wood sajs exprcsatr ihnt be continued at Ox-
ford until he went upon the Continent Dr. 2Souch, who publkbed an elaborate
Ltfo of Sidney vol 1808, from which subsequent writers have drawn largely, tnen-
tioni a residence both at Oxford and at Cambridge} but without quoting any au-
thority for the statctnent.

bgy^ad Mud ay nteaftorkaS, i

Ike wiv
iRiitiarwitk GfiKfc

the f Jmremtf , j

at a fotufe pmod, witk

leilf^; bot far

tbe ladj nbfleqtffcody

ford, alMTward the personal (

An heir apparart to lu node, the Enl of
liant fotore was opened lor Sdnej, when he kft Ae
Mty ; and, aaxjow to be fnndshed at all |
to aec^/rnpanj the Eari of Linecdn upon Uf
France. Aeoording^j, io Hay, 1972, he leerited
from Queen Elizabeth ^Ibr her treaty and welMielomd \
Hidn«;y, Ksquire, to go oat of England, into parts beyond \
neaii, with three servants and four horses ; to remain
two ytzHfn^ tot Win attaining the knowledge of foreign Inn*
gnagi^s/' While in Paris be attracted the notice and tKmm
of (Jharlcfi f X«, who appointed him one of the gentknien cf
hfs h#!dchamber. Bot a fortnight after receiving this
ouM honor Bidney gladly withdrew from the conrt of
crijf;! and trcacheroas monarch, and sought refuge finxn the
horrrns of Bt Bartholomew in the house of Sir Francis Wal-
ningharn, at that time the Queen's resident minister at the
f;oi]rt of France, to whose friendly offices bis uncle had pie-
vioijHiy recommended hinL ^ He is young and raw," so Lei-

* lAtrtl nurletf^h. At that time known as Sir Willism Cecil, eeems to have abown
thA flntt inrliiiation to break off the match. In a letter dated Fehmaiy 24^ ISSS,
Hlr Ih'.ury HUUifty writci : " For my part, I nerer wai more readj to psifoet that
inrttt4tr tlian firfiNcntly I am ; BMoring jon for mj part, if I might haTe the s«^eatcrt
liitfico'a AtMi;\iU:r in Chriitendom for him, the match spoken of belweeo sf on mj
part vhould not be broken.'*

1859.

SIR PUIUP SIDNM,

319

oester wrote, *^ and no doubt shall find those countTie», and
the demeanors of the people, somewhat strange unto him ; in
which respect your good advice and counsel shall greatly be-
hove him for his better directions, which I do most heartily
pray you to vouchsafe him, with any other friendly assistance
you shall think needful for him.'' Sidney spent but a »hort
time under the roof of his future father-in-law ; and soon after
the massacre he left Paris, in company with the Dean of
Winchester, passing through Strasburg and 1 eidelberg, to
Frankfort, where he spent several months in the house of
Andrew Wechel, a learned printer, and a man of considerable
reputation in that age. Here he made the acquaintance of
Hubert Languet, a distinguished Protestant scholar, and the
reputed author of a somewhat celebrated Latin treatise
against tyrants, who had fled from France in consequence of
the religious persecutions, Languet was many years his
senior; but similarity of tastes produced a close friendship,
which was terminated only by death, and for several years
they kept up a familiar correspondence. To this eminent
man the young scholar was indebted for much valuable ad-
vice ; and it cannot be doubted that Languet's influence over
Sidney, at this early period of his life, was highly beneficiaL
From Frankfort the young traveller went in the following
spring to Vienna, where he spent some time in company with
the brother of Sir Henry Wotton, perfecting himself in horse-
manship, fencing, and other manly accomplishments ; and
then, turning his steps southward, he successively visited
Venice and Padua* In each of these cities he spent several
months, prosecuting his studies with zeal and success, and
devoting himself especially to the study of astronomy, geom*
etry, and the classical and modern languages. " I intend to
follow your advice about composition thus," he writes to
Languet from Padua : " I shall first take one of Cicero's let-
ters and turn it into French ; then from French into English,
and so once more by a sort of perpetual motion it shall come
round into Latin again. Perhaps too I shall improve myself
in Italian by the same exercise," In a subsequent letter from
the same place he tells his friend: "Of the German Ian-
guage, my dear Hubert^ I absolutely despair* It has a sort

320 SIB PHILIP SIDNBT. [Apdl,

of harshness, (you know very well what I mean,) ao that, at
my age, I have no hope that I shall ever master it, even so as
to understand it" In the same letter he gives his correspond-
ent a noticeable insight into his character at this period. '< I
readily allow," he says, '^ that I am often more serfoos than
eitlier my age or my pursuits demand ; yet this I have learned
by experience, that I am never less a prey to melancholy than
when I am earnestly applying the feeble powers of my mind
to some high and difficult object" From Northern Italy it
was his intention to proceed to Rome ; but he was dissuaded
from this purpose by Languet, who feared that his prindplea
were not yet settled upon a sufficiently firm basis to resist the
seductions of the papal city, and that he might fall a victim to
the attempt to convert him to Romanism. To this advice
Sidney yielded, though he afterward expressed his regret at
not having persevered in his original intention. He retraced
his steps slowly through Germany and Holland, returning to
England in the early part of 1575.

Shortly after his return, negotiations were opened for his
marriage with the Lady Penelope Devereux, the frail and beau-
tiful sister of the Earl of Essex. Sidney's affections appear to
have been deeply engaged, and he afterward celebrated her
charms under the name of Stella in his Sonnets, and under
that of Philoclca in the Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia;
but this second marriage scheme was soon abandoned, under
circumstances which were not deemed creditable at the time.
" Truly, I must say," Sir Edward Waterhouse wrote to Sid-
ney's father, " as I have said to my Lord of Leicester, and
Mr. Philip, the breaking off from this match, if the default be
on your parts, will turn to more dishonor than can be repaired
with any other marriage in England." Nevertheless, the oblo-
quy was encountered ; and not long afterward Lady Deve-
reux married Robert, the third Lord Rich. Her wedded life
was unhappy, and she never exhibited any affection for her
husband, whom she had married with undisguised aversion.
They were at length divorced ; and after her brother's death
she espoused the Earl of Devonshire, who had been Sidney's
rival while she was the wife of Lord Rich. Her second hus-
band was of too sensitive a nature to endure the opprobrium

1859,]

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

321

which attached to his marriage, and after a few months he
died of shame and mortification. His widow followed him to
the grave within a year/

It was probably about the time when the negotiations for
his marriage were in progress that Sidney began his public
career- His first official appointment was of a diplomatic
character, as ambassador extraordinary to the imperial court,
upon the death of the Emperor Maximilian IL The ostensi-
ble purpose of his mission was to condole with Maximilian's
son and successor, Rodolph II.; but its real objects were to as-
certain what were the political sentiments of the new Emperor
and the German princes, and to watch over the general inter-
ests of Protestantism. This delicate trust he discharged with
much adroitness, showing a diplomatic skill and discretion not
often found in so young a person* " There hath not been any
gentleman, I am sure," says Secretary Walsingham in a letter
to Leicester, *' these many years, that hath gone through so hon-
orable a charge with as great commendations as he." While
he was in Germany, he not only visited the imperial court,
but he also opened communications with several of the elec-
toral princes ; and, in pursuance of his instructions, he made
inquiry in regard to the Emperor's disposition, the state of
his revenues, the probability of his marrying, his relations
with his brothers, the persons by whom he was advised, and
also in regard to the sentiments of the Emperor*s brothers and
the extent of their political influence. The results of these
inquiries are embodied in an interesting and instructive letter
to Secretary Walsingham, printed in Mr. Gray's volume.
Upon his return through the Netherlands, in 1577, Sidney
made the acquaintance of the Prince of Oraiige, upon whom
he produced a very favorable impression, which led to a

• Mr. Croik has brought together inuch cunous and interesting informatioD about
Lady Rich, in the first volume of " Tho Romance of the Peerage," and has also givca
numerous cxtracu from Astrophd and Stella, wiih a very judicious cominentaiy*
lie inclineit to the opinion that the sonnets and poems under that title were written
after Sidney's niRrriage, and not long before hU death. Bat this i» by no meam
certain. There was undoubtedly a considerable interval betireen the earliest and
the latest fionneu, but k does not seem probable that they cover bo much time a§ is
implied hy the supposition that fiome were written ^ Utile more than a twcl re month
before Sidni7*s death.*'

322 sm PHILIP SIDNEY, fAprili

friendly correspondeDce* When Lord Brooke met William
at Delft, some years later, that wke and thoughtful priaoo
bore cordial testimony to Sidney's rich promise.

*< With himself/' says Lord Brooke, ^ he began aib ovoy as having
been of Charles the Fifth's privy conncil before he was one-and-twentjr
years of age ; and since, as the world knew, either an actor or at leMt
acquainted with the greatest actors and affairs of Europe ; and like-
wise with her greatest men and ministers of estate. Li all which seriei
of time, multitude of things and persons, he protested unto xne (and fiir
her service), that if he could judge, her Majesty had one of the ripest
and greatest counsellors of estate in Sir Philip Sidney that this day
lived in Europe."

Upon Don John of Austria, whom Sidney also met about
the same time, he seems to have left a similar impression ;
and it was with a high Continental reputation that he re-
turned to England.

In the course of the next year Sidney made his first appear-
ance as an author, being then in his twenty-fourth year. His
uncle, the Earl of Leicester, had invited the Queen to spend
a few days at the princely seat of Wanstead House, that he
might, by fresh evidences of devoted loyalty, strengthen his
ascendency over her mind ; and to add to her pleasure Sid-
ney wrote a masque, entitled " The Lady of May." The
piece is short ; it is marked by the fantastic conceits of the
age, and is sufficiently adulatory in its tone to gratify the
most courtly taste. While her Majesty was walking in the
garden, attended by her courtiers, she was suddenly accosted
by a woman dressed in rustic apparel, who besought the
royal interposition to decide between the rival suitors of her
daughter, the Lady of May, who was unable to decide for
herself. She tfien placed in the Queen's hands some compli-
mentary verses, and withdrew, but only to give place to a
noisy throng of shepherds and foresters escorting her daugh-
ter, the rival suitors, and their friends and supporters. An
animated contest in verse then ensued between the two ri-
vals, Thcrion the forester, and Espilus the shepherd, inter-
spersed with prolix speeches from a pedantic schoolmaster,
and remarks from the other characters. At last her Majesty
pronounced the desired decision; and the Lady of May

1859.]

Sm PHILIP SIDNEY.

closed the play with an adulatory address to the Qneen. The
merits of the piece, as we have intimated, are small, but it is
de&erving of notice as the first production of Sidney's pen,
and as a characteristic specimen of the servile compositions
by which Elizabeth's vanity was flattered.

About the same time Sidney took an active part in a much
more serious busine^?, the defence of his father from the
charges brought against him for misgovernment in Ireland.
Into this defence he entered with the impetuosity which
forms a marked blemish on his character. Thus, in a letter to
his father's secretary, who rested under the suspicion of having
betrayed the Lord Deputy to his enemies, he wTites; —

" Few words are best. My letters to my father have come to the
eyes of some. Neither can I cnnderan any but you for it* If so, you
have played the very knave with me ; and so I will make you know if
I have good proof of it. But that for so much as rs past For that is
to come, I assure you, before God, that if ever I know you to tlo so
much as read any letter I write to my father, without his commaDd-
meat or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you.*'

The same vehement spirit involved him in a quarrel with
the Earl of Ormond, whom he also accused of treachery ;
but through the interference of their friends, the breach ^vas
healed before any evil results bad occurred. His father's
heart, however, seems to have been sensibly touched by the
sou's eagerness and warmth ; and in a letter written about
this time to his second son, who was then travelling on
the Continent, he says ; " Imitate Philip's virtues, exercises,
studies, and actions : he is a rare ornament of his age, the
very formular that all well-disposed young men of our court
do form also their manners and life by. In truth, I speak it
without flattery of him or myself, he hath the most virtues
that ever I found in any man."

For the next year or two Sidney's name does not appear
in connection with public affairs; but in 1579 he wrote his
celebrated letter to Queen Elizabeth, dissuading her from
marrying the Duke of Anjou, youngest son of Catherine de
Medici.' This letter, which has been much and deservedly

♦ Hume, who h notoriously careless aDd macciirate» places hla abstract of this
letter under date of 1581. Otlier writers ussign its composition to the jear 1580.
Bat for sevoFol reasons we are incliDed to place it in the latter hall' of 1579.

324 BIB PHILIP BIBNBT,

praised, undoubtedly exercised considerable influenee ove
the Queen's mind in determining her subsequent course ; for
it is the glory of Elizabeth's character, that she never allowed
her personal wishes to interfere with the interests of her conn*
try. With much clearness and force of reasoning, Sidney
maintained that the only sure support of her government was
the affection of her Protestant subjects, and that this would
be endangered by her marriage with a Catholic prince ; that
the Catholics were the natural enemies of her throne, and
needed only a powerful head to become formidable ; that the
turbulent and ambitious character of Anjou was suited to
inspire a fear lest he should place himself at their head, in
which case he would probably be seconded by the French
king, his brother ; that the marriage of Mary with Philip IL
did not afford a precedent for the proposed marriage, since
they were of the same religion, and France was a check upon
any ambitious designs which Philip might form ; that there
were no advantages to be anticipated from a marriage with
the French prince, which might not be anticipated from any
other marriage, while there were peculiar evils and dangers
connected with it ; and that, even if she were to die childless,
her fame would be secure.

" Let such particular actions," he say?, in conclusion, " be found out
(which be easy, as I think, to be done) by which you may gratify all
the hearts of the people: let those in whom you find trust, and to
whom you have committed trust, in your mighty aflairs, be held up in
the eyes of your subjects : lastly, doing as you do, you shall be, as you
be, the example of princes, the ornament of this age, the comfort of the
aillicted, the delight of your people, the most excellent fruit of your
progenitors, and the perfect mirror of your posterity."

Though the advice was probably at first unpalatable to the
Queen, she does not appear to have been o!^cnded by it ; and
it was certainly such as was most consonant with her own
dignity and the interests of the country. It is perhaps the
most important, if not the most agreeable, service which Sid-
ney ever rendered to his royal mistress; and though he may
have been in some degree influenced by family considera-
tions, the service was none the less real and substantial.

The zeal which Sidney manifested against the marriage was

1859.]

Sm PHILIP SrDJfBT,

probably a chief cause of his quarrel with the Earl of Oxford,
one of the leaders of the opposing faction. To this quarrel
Sidney's biographers have attached much and deserved im-
portance, since it gives us considerable insight into his char-
acter, while, by leading to his temporary withdrawal from
court, it afforded him the leisure which he occupied in writing
the Countess of Pembroke*s Arcadia, The circumstances, as
related by Lord Brooke, are briefly these. One day while
Sidney was at play in the tennis-court, within sight of the
Queen's windows, the haughty Earl came into the court, and
in a supercilious tone gave some directions with which Sid-
ney declined to comply. A sharp altercation ensued, in
which Oxford commanded Sidney to leave the court, and
called him a puppy, — *' iu which progress of heat, *' as Lord
Brooke quaintly remarks, " as the tempest grew more and
more vehement wthin, so did their hearts breathe out their
perturbations in more loud and shrill accent." The noise of
the tumult attracted the notice of the French commissioners,
who were then in attendance upon the Queen, upon which
Sidney demanded in a loud tone what the Earl had said. On
being answered with the same oflcnsivc epithet, he gave his
opponent the lie direct At length Sidney withdrew from
the tennis-court in a state of great indignation. Some hos-
tile messages passed between the parties ; but before matters

jliad reached a crisis, the Lords of the Council interfered and
referred the matter to the Queen, Her Majesty accordingly
administered a sharp rebuke to Sidney, telling him that there

^was considerable difference in rank between earls and gentle-
men ; that the inferior ranks owed respect to their superiors ;
that princes must uphold their own creations ; and that the
gentlemen's neglect of the nobility set a bad example to the
common people. This reproof must have galled Sidney's
pride; but in respectful terms he replied, that, although Ox-
ford was a great lord, he was not lord over him, and could
claim no other homage except that of precedency. The final
result was Sidney's temporary retirement from the court His
anger against Oxford had been vehement, and he was by no

tineans ready to overlook the insult In a letter to Sir Chris-
ler Hatton, dated August 28th, 1579, and printed in the

VOL. LXXXVIII.

•NO,

183.

326

second volume of Wright's " Queen Elizabeth and her Timesi"

he says : —

<' As for the matter depending between the Earl of Oxford and me,
certaiuly, sir, however I might have forgiven him, I shonld never have
forgiven mjsclf if I had lain under so proud an iujary as he would
have laid upon me, neither can anything under the sun make me re-
pent it, nor any misery make me go one half word back from it. Let
him therefore, as he will, digest iU For my part, I think tying up
makes some things seem fiercer than they would be."

Upon his withdrawal from court he repaired to Wilton, the
scat of his sister, who had married the Earl of Pembrokei
some years before. Here he composed the Countess of Pem-
broke's Arcadia, " the most celebrated romance that was ever
written," says one of his early biographers. This once popu-
lar production was never completed, and was written on
loose sheets of paper, most of it in his sister's presence, the
rest being sent to her in sheets as fast as it was finished. His
principal object, as we learn from his own admission, was to
celebrate the perfections of Lady Rich ; and at the end of
one of the long episodes in the Second Book, he exclaims :
" Alas, sweet Philoclca, how hath my pen till now forgot thy
passions, since to thy memory principally all this long matter
is intended ! " Whether he had any ulterior aim in its prep-
aration is extremely doubtful, — at least none is apparent.
Lord Brooke indeed assures us, " that in all these creatures of
his making, his intent and scope was to turn the barren
philosophy-precepts into pregnant images of life." In another
place the same partial friend writes : " I know his purpose
was to limn out such exact pictures of every posture in the
mind, that any man, being forced in the strains of this life to
pass through any straits or latitudes of good or ill fortune,
might, as in a glass, sec how to set a good countenance upon
all the discountenances of adversity, and a stay upon the exor-
bitant smiling of chance." But whatever may have been the
hidden wisdom its early readers found in it, it attained a great
popularity, which »was not much diminished for several gen-
erations. Milton, indeed, pronounced it "a vain amatori-
ous poem," and thought it was " not to be read at any time
without great caution." But, with this exception, it is not

1859.] 8IB PHIUP SIDNEY. 327

easy to find any adverse criticism upon the work before the
time of Horace Walpole, who reduced its swollen reputation
to very moderate dimensions, declaring that it was " a tedious,
lamentable, pedantic, pastoral romance, which the patience
of a young virgin in love cannot now wade through."

From this judgment we cannot very widely dissent. It is
true that the Arcadia contains many noble sentiments ex-
pressed with great beauty and force, many just reflections
upon the duties of the governing classes, and not a few
descriptions of exquisite grace and truthfulness. Still the
impression produced upon the reader is ths^t of insufferable
weariness. Nor will it be denied that the book is disfigured
by the quaint conceits, the pedantry, and the affectation which
characterized much of the literature of that epoch ; and that
there are many passages which no gentleman would now read
aloud in his family. The coarseness and indelicacy of the
age have left theii: impression very deep on Sidney's pages.
Most of the book is written in prose, but it is interspersed
with songs and versified dialogues, of which it is not too
harsh a criticism to say, that, with few exceptions, they are
utterly worthless. It is commonly asserted that Sidney re-
quested the manuscript should be destroyed at his death,
probably from a belief that the work was unworthy of his
powers. In this judgment he was certainly correct, notwith-
standing the remarkable popularity which the romance long
enjoyed. The weary reader who has plodded through its
well-nigh interminable episodes is irresistibly led to the belief,
that it was not in literary exercises that Sidney would have
achieved his highest renown if his life had been protracted.
Even Lord Brooke virtually admits this when he says, " They
that knew him well will truly confess this Arcadia of his to
be, both in form and matter, as much inferior to that un-
bounded spirit of his, as the industry and images of other
men's works are many times raised above the writer's capaci-
ties," and when he further tells us, that Sidney's " end was
not writing, even while he wrote, nor his knowledge moulded
for tables and schools."

Sidney's self-enjoined exile from court was not of long con-
tinuance ; and though he had so strongly opposed the French

328

marriage upon a former occasion, he did not hesitate to take
part in a tourney held in honor of the commiBsioners sent
over in 1581, by Catherine de Medici, to renew the negotia-
tions. In this triumph^ as it waa called j the Earl of Arundeli
Lord Windsor, Sidncyj and Fulke GreviUa were the chal*i
lengers ; and the part of the tilt-yard where the Queen wu
seated was designated, in courtly phrase, as the Castle of Per-
fect Beauty. After many adulatory speeches addressed to the
flattery-loving Queen, the tilting began, and was continued for
two days, with much pomp and the most servile adulation of
her Majesty. It is probably to this magnificent display of skill
in the arena that Sidney alludes in the forty-first sonnet of
Astrophel and Stella, in which he ascribes his success in a
tilting-match to the favoring smiles of Lady Rich.

*' Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well, that I obtained the prize,
Both by the judgment of the English eyes,

And of some sent from that sweet enemy, France ;

Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance ;
Town-folks, my strength ; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise :

Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ;

'^ Others, because of both sides I do take

My blood from them who did excel in this.
Think nature mc a man of arms did make.

How far they shot awry ! the true cause is,
Stella looked on, and from her heavenly face
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race."

In the course of the same year, the FnMich prince made a
short visit to England for the purpose of urging his suit in
person, and appears at first to have met with much encourage-
ment. Upon his return to the Netherlands he was accompa-
nied by a numerous train of the nobility and gentry, including
the Earl of Leicester, Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sidney; but
soon after the Queen began to waver, and the marriage treaty
was broken off.*

* Francis Hercules, Duke of Alcm/on, and upon iho accession of his brother
Henry III. to the throne of France also Duke of Anjou, was small in stature,
deeply marked by the small-pox, and not at all prepossessing in appearance. Yet
he succeeded in exciting the Queen's interest, and when he returned to the Nether-
lands, iu February, 1582, he had reason to regard himself as an accepted suitor.

1859.] SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 329

In 1581, Sidney was chosen a member of the House of
Commons for the county of Kent ; but in the very meagre
Parliamentary records of that age we have been unable to
discover any notice of his services, except the fact that he was
appointed a member of the committee to determine what
measures should be brought before Parliament. There was
then, however, as has been well remarked by Lord Macaulay,
no regular opposition in Parliament to the measures of the
Queen's government, and it is not probable that Sidney took
any active part in the discussions. Parliamentary oratory
dates from a later period, though even in Elizabeth's time
there was some bold speaking, which served to prepare the
way for Pym, Elliot, and their associates of the reign of
Charles I. Under favorable circumstances Sidney would
doubtless have acted a conspicuous part, and his impetuous
temper would have made him a bold and frequent speaker.*

It is to this period, as we are inclined to believe, that we
must refer his amour with Lady Rich, and the composition of
Astrophel and Stella. The lady had recently married Lord
Rich, who was considerably older than his wife ; but this cir-
cumstance did not prevent Sidney from addressing her in
most ardent verse. It is commonly thought that his suit was
unsuccessful, "though," as Mr. Hallam justly remarks, " far
enough from being Platonic " ; and this view is sustained
by numerous passages in the sonnets. But there are other
passages which seem to throw doubt upon it, and the real

But ho was soon satisfied that Elizabeth had no intention of marrying him. He
died in June, 1584, at Chateau Thierry, of a rapid consumption, hastened by his
debaucheries. His character has been drawn in very dark colors by almost every
historian who has had occasion to refer to him. Mr. Motley, in his Dutch Repub-
lic, pronounces him *'the most despicable personage who had ever entered the
Netherlands," and expresses the opinion that " History will always retain him as an
example, to show mankind the amotmt of mischief which may be perpetrated by a
prince, ferocious without courage, ambitious without talent, and bigoted without
opinions." M. Henri Martin is scarcely less severe in the " Ilistoiro de France."
Speaking of Anjou's death, he says : " Personne ne regretta co malhenreux prince,
aussi faux ct aussi vicicux que ses fr^res."

* Sidney sat also in the Parliament of 1584, and was a member of the committee
to which was referred the bill confirming the Queen's patent to Sir Walter Raleigh
for the discovery and colonization of " such remote heathen and barbarous lands,
not actually possessed by any Christian prince, nor inhabited by Christian people,"
as he might select.

28*

330 SIB PHILIP SIfiNlT. . [Aprils

facts in the case are not easily ascertained. Some of the son-
nets are of great beauty ; others exhibit a lamentable ia^dty
of moral principle; and others arc fall of forced conceits and
pedantic phrases, breathing little of the spirit of genuine J
poetry. Thus, In the seventh sonnet, he enters into aa elab-
orate discussion of the question why Stella was born with
black eyes ; and this sonnet may be taken aa an adequate
representative of a very considerable part of his poetry,

" When Nature made her chief work, Stella^s eyes.
In color black why wrapped she beams so bright ?

Would she, in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mixed of shades and light ?

Or did she, else, that sober hue devise.
In object best, to knit and strength our sight,

Lest, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise,
They, sun-like, should more dazzle than delight?

** Or would she her miraculous power show,
Thatj whereas black seems beauty^s contrary,

She, even in black, doth make all beauty flow ?
Both so, and thus, she, minding Love should bo

Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed.

To honor all their deaths who for her bleed.** *

Quite different from this is the twenty-seventh sonnet,
which may be quoted as a favorable specimen of his more
simple and unaffected manner.

*' Because I oft, in dark, abstracted guise,
Seem most alone in greatest company ;
With dearth of words, or answers quite awry,

To them that would make speech of speech arise ;

They deem, and of their doom the rumor flies,
That poison fuul of bubbling pride doth lie
So in my swelling breast, that only I

Fawn on myself, and others do despise ;

" Yet pride, I think, doth not my soul possess,
Which looks too oft in his unflattering glass:
But one worse fault, ambition, I confess,
Tliat makes me oft my best friends overpass.

* In the description of Philoclca in the First Book of the Arcadia, Sidney in-
dulges himself in tlic same extravagant conceit. Ilcr eyes were black, he tells as
" Mack, indeed, whether Nature so made them, that wc might be able to behold and
bear their wonderful shining, or that she, goddess-like, would work this miracle
with herself, in giving blackness the price above all beauty."

1859.] Sm PHILIP BIDNBT. 331

Unaeen, unheard, while thought to highest place
Bends all his powers, even unto Stella's grace.''

There are also many passages in the sonnets which, when
separated from their context, may be read with pleasure.
Among them the following lines fron^the thirty-ninth sonnet
are especially deserving of notice.

*< Come, sleep : 0 sleep I the certain knot of peace,
The bailing-place of wit, the balm of woe,

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release.
The indifierent judge between the high and low ;

With shield of proof, shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts despair at me doth throw :

0 make in me those civil wars to cease ;
I will good tribute pay if thou do so."

But upon the whole it must be admitted that the predomi-
nant characteristics of these sonnets are quaintness and affec-
tation ; and that their moral tone is in general very low. It is
probable, however, that they were not designed for publica-
tion ; and they were not printed until 1591. At that time
both Lord and Lady Rich were living ; and, as Mr. Hallam
remarks, " it is rather a singular circumstance that, in her own
and her husband's lifetime, this ardent courtship of a married
woman should have been deemed fit for publication."

About the time that Sidney was engaged in this intrigue
he wrote the Defence of Poesy, the most pleasing of all his
productions, and one of the finest prose-writings of that age.
Its style is difiuse and sometimes obscure, but for the most
part forcible and harmonious ; and the book exhibits through-
out that wealth of learning which was one of Sidney's most
noticeable characteristics. Opening with a reminiscence of
his residence at Vienna, he next proceeds to show the an-
tiquity of poetry, to indicate its different kinds, and to prove
the superiority of the poet over moral philosophers and histo-
rians ; " for he doth not only show the way, but giveth so
sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to
enter into it" The poet, he^ further tells us, " beginneth not
with obscure definitions, which must blur the margin with
interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness, but
he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion,

332 BIB raTLip iiDirfiT* [Aprils

either accompanied witb| or prepared for, the welUencbantiiig
skill of music ; and with a tale forsooth be cometh unto yon,
with a tale which holdeth children from play, and 0I4 mai
from the chimney-corner," From this introdactory dlscasaioa
Sidney passes to a special defence of the diiferetit kiDdfl of
poetry, and answers severally the objections which he sup-
poses will be urged against poets and poetry. In conclnaioD
he speaks of the contemporary English literature, especially
the drama, and ends with a brief and pointed address, con-
juring all who " have had the ill-luck to read this ink-wastiiig
toy of mine, even in the name of the nine Muses, no more to
scorn the sacred mysteries of poesy ; no more to laugh at the
name of poets, as though they were next inheritors to fools."

Not long after this, Sidney married, much to the Queen's
dissatisfaction, the only surviving daughter of his old protec-
tor, Sir Francis Walsingham. Of his married life, which was
of brief duration, we know very little. Spenser, indeed, tells
us that Stella was the only woman whom he really loved ;
and this is very likely to be true. After his death his widow
was twice married, — first to the unfortunate Earl of Essex,
Lady Rich's brother, and subsequently to the Earl of Clan-
Ricard. But whatever may have been the relations between
Sidney and his fair young wife, he seems to have been re-
garded with more than ordinary affection by his father-in-law.
The letters which passed between them were frank and
manly ; and Walsingham frequently alludes to him in his
correi^[)ondence with others. To his father-in-law he was
probably indebted for assistance in the pecuniary difficulties
by which he was several times embarrassed, and for other
kindly ofTiccs.

In January, 1583, he was knighted at Windsor by the
Queen, although the year before she had refused his petition
to be joined with his uncle, the Earl of Warwick, in the
charge of the ordnance. A year or two later he undertook
the defence of another of his uncles, the Earl of Leicester,
who had been bitterly assailed by the Jesuit Parsons, in a
notorious libel, printed in Flanders in 1584, and commonly
designated in England at the time as " Father Parsons's
Green Coat," but since known as " Leicester's Common-

SIB PHILIP SIDKKY.

wealth.** In this virulent pamphlet all the current storiea
to the disparagement of Leicester were unsparingly re^
hearsed, and he was accused of a long catalogue of hateful
and dastardly Crimea* With characteristic impetuosity Sid*
ney hastened to draw up a reply, the temper of which is well
shown by a single passage near the close, where, referring to
his adversary's assertion that the Dudleys were not of noble
origin, he writes : *' But to thee, I say, thou therein liest io
thy throat; which I will be ready to justify upon thee, in any
place of Europe, where thou wilt assign me a free place of
coming, as, within three months after the publishing hereof,
I may understand thy mind.'' Certainly there was no want
of spirit in the reply ; but there was a singular want of argu-
ment. Upon only one point — that in regard to the nobility
of the Dudleys, from whom he boasted that be was de»
scendcd — was it io any degree satisfactory; and most of
the charges were left unanswered. It was probably to his
own perception of its weakness, or to the request of bis uncle,
that its suppression was owing ; and it was printed for the
first time about the middle of the last century.

Hitherto his life had been passed almost entirely in study
and lettered ease, or in attendance upon the court ; but his
active and ambitious spirit sought a larger scope for the exer*
cise of his various accomplishments. He had attained bia
thirtieth year, and, with the exception of his embassy to Ger*
many, he had held no important commission in the Queen^a
aervice. Doubtless he felt capable of much greater things,
and fretted for a fitting occasion to serve his country in the
field or in the council-chamber. It was while his mind was
in this restless and unsatisfied state, that his attention was
directed to the New World, which then tilled so large a place
in the minds of all men. Inspired by the reports brought
home by successive navigators, and eager for adventure, he at
once planned an expedition to America, in connection with
Sir Francis Drake. The preparations were made as quietly
OB possible, and it was not until he was informed the fleet
was ready to sail that he went down to Plymouth, the ap-
pointed place of departure. In this journey he was accompa*
nied by Lord Brooke. Upon their arrival they found the

334 em phxlip sibnbt.

preparations by no means so far advanced as thej had baeo
led to believe ; and Lord Brooke seems at onc^ to have con-
ceived a suspicion that Drake was playing them false. This
suspicion he communicated to Sidney one night after tbej
had retired to their chamber, ' At first Sidney was inclined to
discredit it ; but afterward he yielded his unwilling assent to
the arguments advanced by Lord Brooke, and to those whidi
his own observatioa furnished him. How far this distrastof
his associate was well founded cannot be determined ; butit
is certain that the Queen obtained some information in regard
to the proposed expedition, and resolved to prevent Sidne/s
departure, though for what reason does not appear. The
first messenger sent for this purpose was stopped on the way
by two soldiers in disguise, acting under Sidney's direction,
and the letters of recall, of which he was the bearer, were for-
cibly taken from him. A second messenger was then sent
down to Plymouth with peremptory orders for Sidney to de-
sist from his proposed expedition, under penalty of the
Queen's severe displeasure. He was thus reluctantly com-
pelled to give up his hope of winning renown in America.
But, as Lord Brooke observes, '< from the ashes of this first
propounded voyage to America, that fatal Low Country ac-
tion sprang up, in which this worthy gentleman lost his life."
Upon the assassination of the Prince of Orange, Elizabeth
determined to succor the Protestants of the Netherlands, in
their long-protracted struggle with the Spanish monarchy.
A treaty was accordingly concluded in July, 1585, by which
England agreed to furnish an army of six thousand men, and
the revolted Provinces ceded the possession of certain towns
and the strong fort of Rammekins, as security for the proper
performance of the stipulations entered into on their part.
Leicester was appointed commander-in-chief; and Sidney
was named Governor of Flushing and of Rammekins, and
was also made a general of horse. Lord Brooke has given a
most interesting account of the policy which Sidney favored
in the conduct of the war, but it is a little singular that this
important passage has apparently escaped the notice of subse-
quent biographers. According to Lord Brooke's statement,
Sidney weighed the matter with a calmness and sobriety of

1859.1

SIB PHILIP SroNEY*

judgment which justify the high estimate of his powers
formed several years before by William the Silent ^* To
carry war into the bowels of Spain,'* we are told, ** and, by
the assistance of the Netherlands, burn bis shipping in all
havens, as they passed along, — and in that passage, surprise
some well-chosen place for strength and wealth, easy to be
taken, and possible to be kept by us, — he supposed to be the
safest, most quick, and honorable counsel of diversion/' But
as this view did not fall in with the Queen's plan of opera-
tions, he entered zealously into the execution of her designs ;
and his letters from the Netherlands show with what patient
fidelity and untiring energy he labored.

On the 18th of November, 1585, he landed in the Low
Countries, and proceeded at once to enter upon the duties in-
trusted to him. It was not until the following June, however,
that he appears to have been engaged in any important enter-
prise. In that month he surprised and captured, without the
loss of a single man, Axel, a maritime town in Zealand, not
far from Flushing. His next important undertaking was an
unsuccessful attempt to prevent the enemy from throwing sup-
plies into Zutphen, which was then besieged by the English
army, under Leicester. On the evening of the 21st of Sep-
tember, a portion of these supplies w^as conveyed into the
town ; but as the work was not completed, it was deter-
mined to continue operations the next day* The morning
was thick and foggy, so that even- near objects could be but
dimly discerned, when a considerable body of the Spanish
troops was suddenly encountered by a smaller body of Kng-
Ush under Sidney and Sir John Norris, at the village of
Warnsfeld, about half a mile from Zutphen, A fierce battle
immediately began, which was still further aggravated by the
inability of the combatants to distinguish between friends and
foes. Sidney, as might have been anticipated, was among
the foremost in the fight, and had two horses shot under him.
At length he received a musket-shot just above the left knee,
which ** so brake and rifted the bone, ajid so entered the thigh
upward, as the bullet could not be found before the body was
opened.'*

As he was retiring from the field, faint with loss of blood,

336 Sm PHILIP BIDFET* [^Afl^

but still preserving the entire command of his faeoltieii u
incident occurred which in the minds of most readers is motf
intimately connected with his name than any other ciroDiiN
stance in his life. Feeling a thirst natural to his conditiiHi,
he called for water, which was brought to him as soon as poi-
sible. But just as he was putting the bottle to his month, n
dying soldier was borne along, who cast an eager glanoe il
the grateful draught. Sidney saw it ; and with heroic self-
denial he took the bottle from bis mouth, and handed it to
the soldier, saying, " Thy necessity is greater than miae;*
Certainly no finer instance of self-Bacrifice is recorded in hii-
tory, and there is nothing in Sidney's life which better iHna-
trates the real beauty of his character.

From the field of battle he was conveyed in the Earl of
Leicester's barge to Arnheim, where he received the roost
careful attention from the surgeons, from his wife, who had
come over to Holland to be with him, and from numerous de-
voted friends. At first it was not thought that his wound
would prove fatal ; but unfavorable symptoms soon appeared,
and it was found impossible to extract the bullet. Sidney
felt that his end was approaching, and he prepared for it
with Christian resignation. A minute and tedious account
of his last days was drawn up by his chaplain, — supposed
to have been Mr. George GifFord, a noted preaclier of that
age, — \vhich is printed at length by Dr. Zouch. During his
illness Sidney suffered much, so that, as Lord Brooke tells
us, his shoulder-bones wore through the skin ; but he bore his
sufferings without complaint, and, according to the same writ-
c.-, " he called the ministers unto him, who were all excellent
men, of divers nations, and before them made such a confes-
sion of Christian faith, as no book but the heart can truly and
feelingly deliver." From Mr. Gifford's account, we learn that
he was at first much troubled in regard to his sins, the near
approach of death, and a fear of the future judgment; but
these apprehensions were at length dispelled, and " with great
cheerfulness he did often lift up his eyes and hands, giving
thanks to God that he did chastise him with a loving and
fatherly coercion, and to his singular profit whether the soul
live or die." In this condition he lingered for several days,

coaversing rauch on religious topics, and indicating a wish
that his friends should continue to address him when he could
no longer answer. On the 17th of October he breathed his
last, in the arras of his friend and private secretary, WiUiain
Temple, who had relinquished a life of study that he might
follow Sidney to Holland, and who had been his devoted
attendant through all his sufferings.

His death caused a profound and universal grief both in
England and in Holland. The United Provinces sought
earnestly to have his body interred at their expense, and to
erect a costly monument to his raeraory ; but the honor was
declined. His remains were inamediately carried to Flushing,
and thence conveyed in a ship, draped in black and with
black sails, to the Tower Wharf in London, where they w^ere
landed early in November. They then lay in state in the
Minories without Aldgate until the 16th of February, when
the funeral w^as celebrated with unusual magnificence in St
Paul's Cathedral The procession was headed by thirty -two
poor men, to indicate his age ; and the pall \vas borne by
the Earls of Huntingdon, Leicester, Essex, and Pembroke,

[and Lords Wiiloughby and North. A great train of mourn-
ers folio w*ed, among whom were seven representatives of the
seven United Provinces, dressed in black, the Lord Mayor
and Aldermen of London, on horseback and arrayed in their

.official robes, and the Company of Grocers in their livery. A
tablet bearing an inscription adapted from a French epigram
on the Sieur de Bonnivet was hung in the choir; but no
aonuraent now marks Sidney's resting-place or enshrines his

r memory.

In attempting to form an estimate of Sidney^s character,
and to ascertain the justness of his claims to the position
assigned to him by his contemporaries, it must be conceded
that his writings do not furnish an adequate expression of his
powers. It is evident not only from the testimony of those
who knew him best, but also from the ability which he exhib-
ited iu his mission to the imperial court and upon some other
occasions, that he possessed an intellect more capacious and
far-reaching than would be inferred merely from reading the
Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia and his poems* All of his

3S8 Bin PHILIP BiDN^r. [April.

works were written before he was thirty years old, and before
his powers bad fully > ipeiied. They have therefore the fatilti
natarally to be looked for in the producttoos of a young mftn.
But in addition to this, Sidney^s nature was sing^arly iiupTil'
sive, and the warmth of his feelings tended to aggravate iixm
peculiar faults. If he had lived to riper years, and bad reviid
his early productions, it cannot be doubted that be wool^l
have introduced many changes affecting both their fiirra wat
their substance, and would have made them £ar more wotttf
of bis reputation. Probably he would have oalgrowo to t
considerable degree those faults of his age "whioh nifty bt
traced so readily in his writings, and which a mora mfttois
taste would have rejected. With advancing yearn the hot
passions *of youth would have cooled, and be would hmm
breathed a less fiery spirit into his works.

Statesmanship, however, appears to have been the depufr
ment of intellectual effort in which he would probably have
won the highest renown. He was too rash and impulalTe to
be a successful soldier. But we cannot doubt that he woold
easily and quickly have grown into a great statesman, if he
had had the requisite training and a fitting opportunity for
the trial of his capacity. With the exception, howereri of
the embassy to Germany, upon which he set out before be was
twenty-two years old, and his letter in regard to the Qaeen's
marriage, he never had an opportunity of showing his ability
in the management of public affairs. His own opinion
was that the Queen was unwilling to give him employment,
and that she was disposed to find fault with him when-
ever there was a chance to do so; but this was only the
petulant expression of disappointed ambition. It cannot be
doubted that Elizabeth would have raised him to high ofiice
if his death had not disappointed every anticipation ; and we
entertain scarcely less doubt that he would have performed
the duties assigned to him in a manner creditable to himself
and useful to his country. As it is, to quote the words of the
elder D' Israeli, " His fame was more mature than his life,
which indeed was but the preparation of a splendid one.''

The most obvious defect in his character, and the source of
many errors, was his impetuousness. Yet he was a trusty

SIB PHIUP SIDNEY.

339

I"'

and devoted friend, and drew others to him by an irresistible
ttraction* Langoet, Fulke Greville, Spenser, William the
ilent, and many of the most renowned of his contemporaries,
were his personal friends. According to the measure of hia
ability be was a generous patron of literature; and many
works were inscribed to him by needy authors* It is not im-
probable, therefore, that the disordered state of his pecuniary
ffairs w^as in part owing to his patronage of learned men.*
penser, in particular, is said to have received pecuniary
gifts from Sidney, and to have passed some time with him at
Pensliurst, where, according to some commentators, *' The
Shepherd's Calendar" was WTitten; but this statement is de-
nied by other writers. It is certain, however, that Spenser
was indebted to Sidney for his introduction to the Earl of
Leicester; and there is but little donbt that he abo received
other favors from his accomplished and powerful friend.
I These two characteristics of Sidney, the impetuosity of his
I temper and the strength of his affections, were often strikingly
illustrated in the same act; as in his defence of his father's
administration in Ireland, and in his defence of Leicester.
In the one case, affection for his father, and in the other re-
gard for hi8 uncle, led him to espouse the cause with warmth,
and in both cases his ardor carried him far beyond the limits

I of a proper discretion.
I His personal courage was undoubted ; and in his quarrel
prith the Earl of Oxford, he was clearly right in regard to the
buestion at issue, though even here he seems to have lost the
ponimand of his temper, and to have used language unbe-
coming a gentleman* Under the circumstances, it w^as nat-
ural that he should feel indignant, and express himself with
warmth; but he can scarcely be justified for indulging in a
violent personal altercation at such a time and in so public a
place. In his subsequent conduct he seems to have acted
with spirit and judgment; and his reply to Elizabeth, when

# It is well known shut Sidney left a considerablo amotifit of debts at hU de-
oeftso, for whkh he cnde&vored to make prorbron by h'ts last wilL From his own
letters, we leam that as earl j as 1581 his neccssitki were very great, and nt that
time he had recourse to hh fmnds, in the hope that thejr might indace Elizabeth to
I him some i

340 BIK PHTLTP BlDimf, [Apii|

she reproved him for the part he had taken^ waa dignified and
manly. Nor can his withdrawal from court in conseqaenoe
of her reprimand be regarded as a mere ontbarst of petohiii
resentment. His course throughout the affair, ^?e may add,
furnishes a striking illustration of the high principles of honor
by which he was uniformly governed, la this case he wu
the aggrieved party, and such appears to have been the rela*
tion which he occupied In all his personal difficulties. Ik
had too keen a sense of honor afid justice to encroach apon
the rights of others- But he was at all times tenacious of his
own rights and of the honor of his family; and he w^as ready
to defend both with his pen or his sword. Proud of his an-
cestry, and with much of the spirit of a knight-errant of the
Middle Age, he regarded an imputation upon those whose
blood flowed in his veins as a personal insult, and resented it
as such.

The darkest blot upon his fame is his amour with Lady
Rich. It is not surprising, therefore, that some of his biogra-
phers should have suppressed all allusion to it, and that others
should have passed lightly over the subject But the facts
are too manifest to be concealed, and no sophistry can essen-
tially modify their character. It may indeed be urged, in ex-
tenuation of his conduct, that the moral sense of the age was
not very delicate, and that he does not appear to have suffered
in the estimation of his contemporaries. The force of this
argument will be freely admitted by all who are familiar with
the social condition of England in the Elizabethan Age.
Still it does not reach the heart of the matter, and it is but a
poor excuse for such a man as Sidney, to say that he was no
worse than were many of the most illustrious of his contem-
poraries. He ought to have been much better; for in other
respects his principles were pure and lofty. In yielding to
his passionate regard for Stella, he sank to the level of the
courtly throng by whom he was surrounded, and to whom he
was in everything else immensely superior.

1859.]

ANCIENT AaCUlTECTURE.

341

AiiT, III.^ — 1, Illustrated Hand-book of Architecture, By

Jameb FERGuasoN, Esq., M. R, L B* A. In two votomes*

London. 1855, 8vo,
2. Essays on Architecture, By Professor Gotfried Sem-

PEH, late Director of the Royal Academy of Architecture

at Dresden.

•k

The study of ancient architecture is but of yesterday.

ver since the so-called renaissance^ we have been talking
and writing about the classic style ; yet the knowledge of its
origin, its growth, and its meaning has come only since the

iscovery and investigation of its sources in Egypt and in
^Assyria. We now see the most exalted passage in the his-
tory of art as a connected and intelligible chapter, instead of
a parcel of stray leaves supplemented by the imaginations of

odern dilettanti. The condition of ignorance which has

evailed, together with its natural concomitant, pedantry,
has had a peculiar and mischievous effects The amount of
JUijury caused by our false view of classic architecture will
;ever be rightly estimated, till the building art shall regain
that vitality which has been lost for centuries. This view
has represented the Greek orders as a sort of architectural
dispensation, whose cause, reason, circumstances, accessories,
and uses are not to be questioned, but which is only to be re-
duced to rule, and used for our implicit guidance. The ab-
surdity of all this we will not stop to criticise, but only ask,
in passing, a question belonging to modern architecture, —
whether the view referred to would become any less absurd,
if for the word Greek we were to substitute Gothic, We can
derive no benefit from any bygone style by subjecting our-
selves to it. On the contrary, if we would really get help
firom it, we must search into its ideas and principles, and
study its natural history. It is this genuine, useful study
which is so recent ; and its first comprehensive and accessible
manual is that of Mr. Fergusson, In treating of all archi-
tecture, he has adopted an arrangement of subjects which,
however good for his purpose, is wholly unsuited to ours, as
w^e intend merely to review one great chapter in architectural
29'

34S

JiM^JIESrr ABCHlTBCTtJaS*

history,— that which appertaitis to Egypt and Assyria, ud
their influenoe on the art in Greece. A few phllosopbefB,
transcending that not very useful accomplishment^ ordinftri
architectural book^earning, have^ during the last fifteen yemn,
stadied, lectured, atid written about ancient architectum
Among these we take peculiar pleasure in mentfontng Pr^
feasor Semper of Dresden, whose valuable discoveries aod
deductions, never adequately collected and publish ed^ rcmaJa
in the memories of his pupils. A clear, unbiased, phllo^opbi*
cal work, embodying all the important facta in detail on tbii
subject, is as yet wanting, and is greatly to be desired.

The earliest known, and yet the best, building in the worjd
is the Egyptian. Peculiar in many ways, in none Is it more
distinguished than in this, that it is almost the sole cypres*
sion of a single mighty people. The Egyptian language, of
development far from perfect, was little suited to the highest
literary works, though we know ti^at ii iiad a literature wbioh ^
has perished. This tongue no children remain to continiia
Silent for ages, it stands petrified in the Nile valley. Oa that
strip of green, which the river won from the desert, there grew
up an architecture, majestic in form, brilliant in color, en-
riched with wonderful sculptured work, and inscribed from
end to end, bringing down to our time the knowledge and
the faith of three thousand years ago. To speak adequately
of Egypt, one should not only have studied, but have seen
and felt, its architecture ; and even then description is not
easy. Miss Martineau has here rendered a peculiar service ;
for to the clear and comprehensive intellect, and the quick
sympathy which the subject demands, she joins the power
of graphic and picturesque narration. We cannot speak of
Egypt without acknowledging our debt to her.

Egyptian architecture is strongly local. Though it taught
the world, it never left its own home. Indigenous by the
Nile, five centuries of rule over Assyria could not transplant
it to the Euphrates. The river and the desert in their end-
less contest : — hence Egypt with its theology, its whole form
of life, and its architecture. Again, this style shows a most
persistent vitality. After the nine hundred years of foreign
domination under the Shepherd Kings, the ancient art re«

1859.

ANCIENT AKCniTKCTlTRE,

343

appeared in full vigor. After the two hundred years of bar-
barous Persian rule, the native style rose for the third time
great ; and at last, in its extreme old age, it died a natural
deathj dissolving slowly into the Roman civilization.

The Egyptian temples completely expressed the religious
life of the nation. Containing in their innermost depths the
sanctuary of the higher mysterious worship, they included
also the dwellings of the king and the priestly class ; and the
great halls and courts were the scenes of religious pageants
and ceremonies for the people. The great feature of the
building is the all-enclosing, massive wall, receding upward,
full of stability and repose, and swelling into vast propyljsa at
the front. Within, as in the great haU at Karnac, colossal
and brilliantly colored columns rise in multitudes, yet never
appear outside the mighty wall which shuts them in, — aa
the bark of the palm, still unbroken, encloses its inward
growth. The two central rows rise higher than the rest, and
through the break thus made in the roof streams in the golden
sunshine of Africa. This light from above falls aslant far in
among the columns, yet fails to penetrate the whole depth.
The interior is not dark, but interminable*

The entrance to these temples lay through fair and solemn
sculptures. Nor were the graceful obelisks wanting there,
while from afar looked down the colossi, majestic and serene
through the ages*

Lastly, we have the tombs cut in the living rock ; where
were shut in, not only the man, but his works ; where he lay
down amid the sculptured story of his life, ^ — a story without
an end, broken off in the telling.

Apart from all the rest stand those early royal tombs re»
plete with history, — the Pyramids, They are much older
than the temples. Excelling in but few elements of archi-
tecture, they are yet the solemn prelude to all the grand
harmony that followed. " The early Egyptians," says Mr*
Fergusson, " built neither for beauty nor for use, but for
eternity."

The painted and sculptured walls in the oldest pyramids
display an art which had reached its culmination, while the
remains of buildings belonging to the same age show a style

344 ANCIENT ABOHITECTUBB. [April,

just emerging from wooden forms ; thas indicating that the
pyramids were built near the commencement of stone archi-
tecture in Egypt The inference from these facts is that the
Egyptians had learned painting and sculpture by practising
them in another material. Now the aboriginal art of Egypt
was that of pottery ; and the forms afterward cut in stone
had doubtless been previously elaborated on vases. This be*
comes still clearer in tracing to their origin the subsequent
architectural forms. There are two columnal types variously
combined and modified. One is the square stone pier, ren-
dered by cornering eight, sixteen, and thirty-two sided, and,
finally, fluted. The other, that with bell-shaped top, shows
by its form and by its ornamental treatment the recollec-
tions of ceramic art Both capital and base seem evolved ;
the column sometimes even contracting just above the base
like a vase, and irresistibly recalling the potter's wheel, which
had whirled out its forms of clay long ere the temples began
to be. This type of column, — used in the earliest and grand-
est temple, the great Karnac hall, — we may call peculiarly
Egyptian.

Assyrian architecture presents a complete contrast, and in-
deed seems complementary, to Egyptian. It belongs perhaps
to all the early building world except the valley of the Nile.
Remembering the dominant Egyptian wall, we are struck at
once with the negation of this feature in Assyrian building.
First comes an immense terrace of Cyclopean masonry,
mounted by the most grand and imposing flights of steps
ever constructed. On this marvellous platform stood vast
palatial edifices, well representing the politico-religious sys-
tem of Assyria, — a deified royalty, the monarch offering to
the gods the worship he himself received from the people. The
wall, about seventeen feet high, and of enormous thickness,
was so treated, both within and without, that it lost altogether
the massive effect of masonry, the structure of unburnt bricks
being lined, for the first nine feet, with finely carved alabaster
slabs, and, for the remaining height, richly decorated in color.
Above, (adopting the admirable plan of restoration suggested
by Mr. Fergusson,) was a second or roof story of wood. On
the top of the great walls, on an area about equal to that of the

ANCIBNT ABCHITECTORB,

345

lower apartmentai, stood long rows of finely-wrouglit columns
with bracket capitals, supporting the roof* timbers. Between
these columns the bright Eastern daylight reached the lower
rooms indirectly, or was excluded at pleasure by means of
curtains. Meanwhile the galleries thus formed on the wall-
tops were, in cool, fine weather, the pleasantest part of the
building. The roof-story and the terrace are the dominant
features of this architecture. The palace was adorned
throughout with admirable sculpture, painting, and inscrip-
tion. At the portals stood the majestic winged bulls, and on
the walls within were the well-known bass-reliefs. The prev-
alence of winged figures is remarkable, and is perfectly in
keeping with a style of building the most light and brilliant
that ever exis^ted. These ancient slabs are so full of rufuiiing,
that they are telling us now the true story of an empire which
perished at the dawn of written history.

In Assyria, as in Egypt^ the sculptures from the oldest
monuments are the best. There were, chronologically, two
Assyrian empires, separated by five hundred years of Egyptian
domination, and all the reinains found belong to the second
period. We cannot suppose that their arts were derived from
Egypt; for their charac er is utterly unlike anything Kgyp-
tian* This character gives the strongest evidence of the prior
material in which the artistic forms were elaborated. Not
only the whole ornamentation, but also the manner in which
it is used, is animated by the recollections of textile work.
Whether we consider the lining of the wall below, where the
rich tapestry has stiffened into stone, or the brick- work above,
clothed with soft, deep colors, or the curled volutes hanging
around the columns, or direct our attention to the ornamen-
tal forms themselves, — the same patterns now Avorked on
the royal dress, now swaying in the gorgeous curtain, and
anon adorning the palace wall (the sculptures even contain-
ing elaborate pictures embroidered on robes reproduced in
stone), ^ — all everywhere speak of the Assyrian loom, the old-
est and most famous of the world. We find this style of
ornamental art pervading a vast area* It prevailed in Asia
Minor, and, previously to the Hellenic civilization, in Greecei
as well as in Mesopotamia* It has a name, unobjectionable

346 ANCIENT ARCHITSCTUBE. [April,

because not liable to be misanderstood, — that of Ionic. It
is impossible to believe that this style could have been tbiu
elaborated, and have been so diffused as to become domesti-
cated as early as we find it among distant and stranger tribeSi
had it originated in the capitals of the second Assyrian pe*
riod. On the contrary, we have no reason to suppojie the
style less ancient than that of Egypt, the two nations having
been, from time immemorial, competitors in power and civil-
ization. We must then refer the Ionic art to the first Assy-
rian empire. It is an interesting question whether its origi-
nators were akin to the rulers of the second empire. The
remains found among the Pelasgian tribes of the West are
all sepulchres, while the monuments in the Eastern capitals
are exclusively palatial, there being no evidence that the
masters of these cities cared for their dead. From this we
might be sure that these two races were not nearly related;
and we know, besides, of the latter, that they were akin to
the Jews, both from their intimate intercourse and from the
close similarity between the Assyrian palaces and the bnild-
ings of Solomon. Now, among the Pelasgians, the Ionic
style is so deeply rooted as to appear indigenous with them
and their kindred. If so, its originators were not nearly
related to the people dominant in Assyria during the period
to which the palatial remains belong. We know that the
empire was composed of three nations, with three languages,
all written in the cuneiform character. We may suppose
that the tomb-builders were one of these, the palace-builders
another, and that the third people were the Persians. We
are not ready to admit, however, that these tribes represented
the whole human race. Mr. Fergusson uses the terms Tar-
tar, Semitic, and Aryan, to which it may be objected, that
they involve theories which, though generally admitted, have
recently been called in question by high ethnological author-
ity, as a single glance at the system of Dr. Bodichon will
show. This distinguished savant ascribes all ancient archi-
tecture to the " brown race," a strongly defined type of hu-
manity, distinct alike from the blonde man of Northern
Europe, the yellow man of Eastern Asia, and the black man
of Southern Africa ; there being one exception to this state-

lesa]

ANCIENT ARCHITECTimE.

347

meni^ namely, the Egyptians, whom he considers a mixed
race, — brown and black.

The part played by the Persians in architectural history is
sufficiently evident. Educated by contact with their more
civilized neighbors, they stitl possessed an inherent strength
which the others had lost. From the time of the great Cyrus,
they succeeded to that glorious heritage, the Assyrian archi-
tecture, which they modified and improved. Under their vig-
orous touch, the delicate wooden colamns turned to stone at
Persepolis; and the old style was treated with such freshness
and power as to reach its culmination.

But a far greater artistic triumph was in progress in the
West. The ancient woof of Ionic art extended, as we have
seen, over Greece, whose intimate connection with Asia was
at length sundered by the Trojan war. Then followed cen-
turies of change and growth ; and then, about the year fj50
B. C, grafted on the old Petasgian stock, appeared the Hel-
lenic architecture- That a new people then became dominant
iti Greece is doubtless true, though we must here again ques-
tion the assumption that they were a separate type of hu-
manity,

During the transition period which Mr. Fergusson well
calls the "dark ages of Greece/' the rising people were not
left to themselves. The highest, the most ancient art-instruc-
tion of the world, was imparted to them ; and the source of
that instniction was Egypt. It is now impossible to deny
the influence of Egyptian ideas on the Greek temple. Too
much has been made of the resemblance between the so-called
proto-Doric of Egypt and the Parthenon order. What they
have in common was the least salient characteristic of the
Egyptian columns, and was, in fact, one at which both
nations might have rapidly arrived by nearly the same steps.
The distinctive feature of the Doric order is the wonder-
fully curved echinus capital. This is wholly Grecian, — there
being full evidence that it did not exist elsewhere. Per-
haps the true statement would then be, not that the Egyp-
tians gave to Greece the Doric order, but that they taught
the men of the Dorian civilization to build. How those
wonderful pupils " bettered the instruction'* is well known.

348 ANCIENT ABCHITBCTURB. [April,

The Doric was the great order of Greece. Peculiarly her
own, it was born and it died with her. The Ionic order, nat-
urally occupying the second place, — that of a superseded
civilization, — flourished only where the influence of the Pe*
lasgians still lingered ; then, with the Ionian colonies, returned
to its native Asia, where it lasted till it was lost in the Roman
empire. Meantime, the old Ionic ornamentation pervaded
and adorned the whole Grecian architecture.

We must now return once more to the great hall of Karnac,
and those glorious columns which we described as peculiarly
Egyptian. This type the Greeks, in their later civilizationi
adorned with the acanthus-leaf and the Ionic volute, and thus
created the Corinthian order. Originating in the ceramic
forms of Egypt, and stamped with the collective art of
Greece, it passed to Rome, destine i not to die in her civiliza*
tion, but to survive her power.

The great feature of the Greek temple is its columnar sys-
tem, including entablature, pediment, and roof. The wall is
a subordinate feature, appearing in the perfected style entirely
surrounded by columns. The temples were of fine white
marble, and were not only enriched with the greatest sculp-
tures of the world, but were also brilliantly decorated with
color. We believe, with Professor Semper, who himself care-
fully examined the remains in Greece, that the temple was
colored throughout, the surface of the marble being first pre-
pared with a coating like lime-putty. The walls were prob-
ably covered with fresco pictures, while the columnar or roof
system was treated in such a manner as to heighten the eflfect
of its exquisite proportions and outline.

Here let us pause for a moment, to compare the artistic
developments of Persia and Greece, — the Eastern and the
Western culminat ons of ancient architecture. The despot-
ism received from others, and brought to perfection a lovely
ancient style. The republic inherited from Asia, learned from
Egypt, and wrought out for itself the most noble architecture
of the world.

It is not a pleasant task to vindicate what we wish only to
study and admire. As, however, there has been a loud rattling
among the whitened bones of our architecture against the

1859.]

PRINCE OALLTraiW,

349

warm colors of vigorous Grecian life, — modern prejadice
even refusing to admit the clearest evidence of polychromatic
decoration, — we would say a few words in defence of the
Greek usage in this particular. To the objection urged, that
it was wrong to cover up the costly marble, we reply, that the
object of the Greeks was not to show the excellence of their
material. Having made sure that the stone was suitable and
precious, their next thought was to ren ier it beautifoJ. To
those who contend that an harmoniously colored exterior is
not beautiful, we would suggest that they are condemning
that of which they have probably no experimental knowledge.
We would not, however, quarrel with the disposition to
question even Greek artistic usages. Let us, in our architect
tural barbarism, have at least the grace of honesty, and not
pretend to admire what we do not really feel. No defer-
ence to authority will help us. Only through humble, un-
prejudiced, and patient study can our architecture gain light
and life. Our motto should be, " Prove all things; hold fast
that which is good."

Art. IV. — Discourse on, the Life and Virtues of the Rev. De*

metrius Aiigvstine Gallitzin^ late Pastor of St. MichaePs
Church,, Loreito. Delivered on the Occasion of the Re-
moval of his Rernains to the new and splendid Monument
erected to his 3Iemon/ by a Grateful Flock. By the Very
Rev. Thomas Heyden. Published at the earnest request
of the Monumental Committee. Printed for the Monu-
mental Committee at Lorettg, Pa. 1848.

The Church of Rome, in claiming the title of Catholic, has
not neglected to assert a right to it, by sending propagandist**
of her faith to every quarter of the habitable earth. When-
ever the discoverer or conqueror opens up new and unex-
plored regions, there appear almost simultaneously with him
her zealous missionaries. Neither the scorching sun of India,
the everlasting ice of the pole, the jealousy of Oriental gov*
, VOL. Lxxxviir. — NO. 183, 30

350 FBuroB GALtnxiF. [Ap4

ernments, nor the savage haman soil of America and AfricBf
has deterred them from planting the banner of the cross. The
names of Xavier, Loyola, Vincent de Paul, and Ralle sm
familiar to our ear as household words, while that standiiig
at the head of this article will be recognized by few readeiSi
save as one distinguished in European politics and wan.
Yet the heir of the noble house of Gallitzin, like another
St Aloysius, forsook courts, wealth, and honor, at the call of
the despised Nazarene, and for forty-one years labored and
suffered on the bleak summits of the Alleghany Mountains,
dropping the titles of a Russian prince, to become an hum-
ble pioneer and pastor to a few sheep in this Western wildo*
ness.

The Russian house of GkiUitzin is of Asiatic origin, and
maintained a high rank among the barbarous hordes whioh
the founder of the present imperial dynasty succeeded in
amalgamating into a great nation. A powerful family, prid-
ing themselves upon their ancient rank, they have held impoi^
tant places under the different sovereigns who have snooes-
sively wielded the sceptre of the North. Their vast estates
are situated principally in the department of Moscow, and
cover about the same number of square miles that the State
of Pennsylvania contains. In the year 1768, the head of this
house, Prince Demetrius de G^allitzio, was sent by the Empress
Catharine as Ambassador to the Court of Holland. On his way
thither be stopped at Berlin, to visit the royal family of Prus-
sia. There was at that, court, in attendance upon the wife of
Prince Ferdinand,* a very beautiful young lady, the daughter
of Count dc Schmettau. Those familiar with the history of
Frederick's reign will recognize in De Schmettau the brave
field-marshal who, with a P^ssian garrison of 12,000 men,
held the city of Dresden, in 1758, against the king of Sax-
ony and the Empire, and who, on the approach of Marshal
Daun and the army of Maria Theresa, burnt the suburbs of
that City, — an act deemed at the time one of merciless se-
verity, but which saved the town and the Prussian garrison.f

* Brother of Frederick the Great

t Two of his sons were distinguished officers in the Prussian service. . One of
them, General de Schmettau, fell in the battle of Jena.

1859.]

PRINCE GALLirZIN.

351

The Rui^i^ian ambassador sought and won the hand of the
fair maid of honor, and the Countess Amalia de Schmcttau
became the Princess Gallitzin, and proceeded with her lius-
band to the Hagne^ where, on the 22d of December, 1770,
Demetrius Augustine Gallitzir), the subject of this article,
was born.

Connected as were the parents of the unconscious infant
with two of the most powerful courts of the age, and rebiding
as the accredited minister of one of them at a third, there
were doubtless great rejoicings over the birth of an heir to the
ancient name and immense estates of De Gallitzin. As he
lay in his cradle of state, decorated with the insignia of hered-
itary military rank, how would the ambitious and infidel
father have received the tidings, had some prophetic hand
drawn aside the veil, and shown him, in the future, his son^
casting aside these vain earthly trappings, and " having on
the breast-plate of righteousness, his feet shod with the prep-
aration of the gospel of peace, — taking the shield of faith,
the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit," to fight
against the pomps and vanities of the world, as a simple sol-
dier of the cross?
, The atheistical opinions held by the parents of this child
render his life the more remarkable. Hin father, though nom-
inally of the Greek Church, had been during fourteen years
the Russian Ambassador at Paris. At that period the new
school of philosophers were making converts to their views
among the high and miglity of the French court and capital.
It was not strange that an intimacy with Voltaire and Dide-
rot should persuade a young and enthusiastic foreigner of
the beauty of their systems. Voltaire, who Mattered the Em-
press Catharine, by regretting t)iat he was not born a Rus-
sian, did not hesitate to make her envoy the theme of hia
praises, for the scientific zeal he manifested in collecting curi-
osities and antiques, with which he intended to enrich the
museum of Zarskoi Zelo. His refined taste and liberal prin*
ciples made him the firm friend and constant correspondent
of the leading infidel philosophers during their several lives.
The Princess Gallitzin, although educated a Romanist, and
in her early childhood strictly observant of religious duties,

352 PBiHdB GALunzor. [Apiily

was placed under the influence of an infidel teacher, who at-
tempted to eradicate all traces of these youthful convictioDs :
her beauty of person, and the admiration she everywhere ex-
cited, had a baleful effect upon her heart; and she herself was
accustomed to relate, that, when only nine years old, in pass-
ing from the confessional through the church, she heard some
one exclaim, << My God, what an angel!" and that thence*
forward vanity became her ruling passion. Shortly after her
marriage, she accompanied her husband to Paris, where she
was introduced to his literary friends. Diderot endeavored to
win her over to his own atheistical opinions ; but, though she
was more than indifferent to the subject of religion, her nata-
rally strong mind discovered the fallacy of his reasonings, and
she would often puzzle the philosopher with the simple inter-
rogative, <' Why?" Though she did not adopt entirely the
system of the French school, yet constant association with its
choice spirits, and the reading of their works, destroyed all
traces of her former faith.

With such parents, one an avowed atheist, and the other
scarcely better, the son was carefully educated in ignorance
of religion. He was surrounded by teachers belonging to the
prevailing school of philosophy. His father prohibited anjf
priest or minister from having access to his son, and mani-
fested the strongest determination and solicitude to have this
order strictly obeyed. Of course all books of religious ten*
dency were also excluded. The Princess managed her two
children upon the principles of Rousseau, }i< d thus, while
advancing in all worldly learning and accomplishments, they
were deprived of the sweet influences of heavenly wisdom.

In 1783, the Princess and her children established them-
selves at Munster, in Westphalia, on account of the great
learning of the teachers in that city, and they at length made
it their home, while the diplomatic duties of Prince Gallitzioi
and his passion for travelling, caused him to be only an oc-
casional resident there. Soon after their retirement thither,
the Princess being attacked by an alarming illness, which
threatened to prove fatal, the good and learned Fiirstenberg
sent his own confessor to converse with her on the subject of
religion. This priest, Bernard Overberg, frequently visited

1859.1

PRINCE OALLITZIN.

353

her to carry the consolations of his faith as to a dying
woman ; but she persisted in saying that she did not fear
death, and the priest could only prevail on her to promise, that,
in case she recovered, she would devote herself earnestly and
sincerely to the study of Christianity. She eventually re-
gained her health, and was faithful to her promise. During
three years she gave herself to study, and sought instruc-
tion from Fiirstenberg and Overberg, both distinguished in
Germany for their labors in the cause of education. In 1786,
the light of truth broke in upon her mind, and she accepted
the faith as held by the Komisb Church. On the feast of
St. Augustine, for whom she conceived a special devotion,
she made her first communion. She spent the remainder of
her life in Munster, **in prayer, in resistance to her own will,
and in regrets for her past life." While she was thus devoted
to the religion she had adopted, her literary tastes drew
around her some of the most distinguished men of the age.
Hemsterhuis, Hamann, Jacobi, and Goethe were among her
intimate friends. This princess was the Diotima to whom
Herasterlmis, under the name of Dioklas, addressed his work
on Atheism, and it wag through a correspondence with her
tjiat Count Stolberg, author of a History of Christianity, was
converted to the Romish faith. The conversion of the mother
produced a profound impression upon the son ; he who had
been educated in the gloom of unbelief began to have glimp-
ses of light He accidentally picked up in a bookstore a
copy of the Bible, which he purchased, and great was his sat-
isfaction in the secret perusal of a volume so rich and won-
derful. In 1787, at the age of seventeen, he became a con-
vert in full, and took the name of Augustine at the time of his
confirmation.* Prince Gallitzin was annoyed by the change

* The conversion of the Princess Amelia and that of her son hacl an influence
upon other tnembcrg of ihfj GaUitzin family, Alexander Galliizin^ a cousin of tha
^titig prince, in 181 4^ at the age of tiHeeiij and while amlcr tho care of a Je^tilc
teacher, became a Homantst, which so enraged his uncle, iheTi Minister of Woriihip
to the Emperor, that the Sodctf of Jcsas was immediately banished from Ilussia.
Another unnt of yonng Alexander became a convert, imd her daughteri Elizabeth
GaUiUini having abjurod the Greek religion^ was one of the founders of ihe Order
of the Sacred Heart at Parts. In 1840, this lady came to the United States, where
■be founded four hooaet of her order, and died at New OrleaiK, of ycilow-fercr,
three 3'ears afterward,

30 •

354 raiNOB 0ALiJi2Dr« [April,

he witnessed in the sentiments of bis wife and child ; bat h»
ambitious views for his son were not yet altered. He bad
given him an education- befitting his rank and expectatioiu,
and one that particularly qualified him for a military life.*
At the age of twenty-two, he appears to have been learned
in all that was required to form an elegant and accomplished
gentleman of the last century, and he was about proceed-
ing to Vienna, to assume his duties as colonel in a regiment
of the Austrian Imperial Guards. He had received the ap-
pointment of aide-de-camp to General Von Lilien, then com-
manding the army in Brabant, at the commencement of the
campaign against revolutionary France. But in March, 1792^
Leopold, Emperor of Germany, died, — as his friends anp*
posed, of poison administered by an agent of the secret order
of Illuminati, — and the king of Sweden was assassinated by
Anckarstrom. These two catastrophes struck terror into the
royal and noble families of Europe, who, after the horrible
events of the French Revolution, might be pardoned the sua-
picioti that the Jacobins were entering in disguise the service
of their enemies, to play more conveniently the part of aasaa-
«ins. In consequence of these events, strict orders were issued
by the Austrian and Prussian governments, disqualifying all
foreigners from holding military commissions. Therefore,
young Gallitzin was excluded. Russia not then taking any
part in the war against France, no occasion appeared for him
to pursue the profession of arms. As was customary with
persons of his age and rank, a few years of foreign travel
were required to complete the cycle of accomplishments.
But Europe was convulsed with war, and the state of the
whole continent prevented his parents from exposing him to
the dangers incident upon the grand tour. At that period the
patriotism of Washington, and the learning of Franklin, had
turned the eyes of the Old World towards the New ; and
Prince Gallitzin, that his son might not Ji>e deprived of that
necessary adjunct of a liberal education, the observation of

* Instances of his agilitj in athletic exercises are still related by the hardj
mountaineers, and many remember seeing him stand hj the side of a horse, pot hb
hund on his withers, and sprin*; over him, and then, changing hands, immediatclj
repeat the operation.

1859.]

PUINCli OALLTTZIN.

355

foreign manners and customs, praposed that lie Bhould travel
two years in North and South Amecjca.

When the young traveller parted with the Prince of
Orange, his early friend, with the fervent feelings of youth,
in view of ihe multiform dangers which threatened them,
they vowed to each other eternal friendship. It was stipu*
lated, that, in the event of cither being in peril or difliculty,
the other would make all possible eflbrts for his safety and
protection, — a promise well remembered, and faithTully kept
by the Prince in after years, when be became king of Hol-
land. Demc riui Gallitzin was accompanied to this coon-
try by a travelling tutor, a young and zealous German mis-
sionary. This priest appears to have taken advantage of his
situation, during the voyage, to turn the heart of his charge
towards the life of a devotee* The young and enthusiastic
mind of his pupil was influenced by the example of St Fran-
cis Xavicr, frequently presented for his admiration, accompa-
nied with that moat appropriate lesson for the dignitaries of
the earth : " What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul? *'

In company with his tutor, he reached the United States in
the autumn of 1792. Here let us pause for a moment to con-
template this young man, possessed of all the advantages of
elegant and profound learning, his manners polished and re-
fined by a residence at the most voluptuous European courts,
with a form commanding and dignified, a face handsome and
expressive, and a charm of address and powers of conversa-
tion to which none were insensible. Add to all these per-
sonal gifts high titles and immense wealth, and we seem to
»ee one upon whom fortune has lavished every favor, leaving
nothing for the heart to desire. Yet in his ears the Master
said: ** One thing thou lackest; go thy way, sell whatsoever
thou hast, and give to the poor, and come and follow raej'
Unlike the rich man of the Gospel, he obeyed the summons.
He believed himself called to the ecclesiastical state, and the
contemplation of the toils and privations of that vocation,
and the remembrance of the friends and home 'he was for-
saking, had no power to prevent him from enlisting under the
banner of the world's Redeemer.

356 rajoroB oaiiUixdi. l^^P^

He accordingly applied, booh after landing in Baltinicn^
for admission into the JTbeological Seminary, then recently
founded there by the Snlpicians, and entered upon bis datiesy
November 5th, 1792. After taking this step, he wrote to m
friend in Germany, begging him to dispose his mother to look
favorably towards this change in his prospects, adding that he
had sacrified himself with all he possessed to the service of
God and the salvation of his brethren in America, where tibe
harvest was so great and the laborers so few. The PrioceeB
was quite unprepared for the accounts thus received of her
son's choice, and wrote to the Superiors'of the Seminary, to
express her doubts and fears respecting his vocation ; but she
received for answer the assurance of the Abb6 Nagot and the
Bishop, that they had never presented at the altar a candidate
for holy orders about whose devotion they felt so certain.
He therefore received ordination firom the bands of Biabc^
Carroll, on the 18th of March, 1795, and was the second
Romish priest ordained in the United States, and the first
who received all the orders in this country.

So charmed was he with the religious atmosphere of the
Seminary of St Sulpice, that he desired to spend there the
remainder of his days, and he actually became a member
of the Order. The Bishop, however, soon found it necessary
to detail the young priest upon missionary duties, in which
he proved himself so efficient, that he was kept constantly
thus employed. These duties appearing to Father G^allitzin
incompatible with those of a Sulpician, he ceased to consider
himself one. The first mission assigned him was at Cone-
wago, where there already existed a flourishing congregation.
This was one of the only three Romish places of worship in
the interior of Pennsylvania. These had been founded by a
legacy from a British Romanist, Sir John James. His will
was contested by his relatives ; but the secret of the trusts
invested in the French funds was preserved by the priests,
and the sum of a hundred pounds sterling was annually de*
voted to the American mission in Pennsylvania. From Cone*
wago. Father Gallitzin went to different towns and stations
in the three States of Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania,
including Taneytown, Pipe Creek, Hagerstown, Cumberland|

185a]

FEmCB GALLITZIN.

367

MartinsbuTg, Chamberaburg, Winchester, Path and Shade
Vailey^j, Huntingdon, and that vast and then unexplored
region, the Alleghany Mountains. His labors over this ex*
tended naissionary field were arduous in the extreme ; for
he never spared himself or shunned any sacrifice when there
offered the opportunity of gathering a single soul into the fold
of hii* church. Experience, however, soon convinced him that
he must select some portion of this great vineyard for ypecial
cultivation, some point where he could form a colony, to
serve as a fulcrum for the Archimedean lever of his opera-
tions. He accordingly, with true apostolic devotion, chose
the bleak and uncultivated region of the Alleghanies, in
Pennsylvania, just then beginning to attract the attention of
settlers* In 1799 be selected for his permanent residence one
of the highest sites on the western side of the mbuntains,
about two hundred and fifty miles from Philadelphia. Here
he built with logs from the forest a rude church, twenty-five
feet by thirty, which was sufficiently large to accommodate
the ten or twelve Romanist farailles scattered over the moun*
tains. With one solitary exception, ther.' was previously
neither priest, church, nor religious establishment of that
faith, from Lake Erie to Conewago, from the Susque-
hanna to the Potomac, and one may judge of the labors and
privations Father Gallitzin must have endured in travelling
through this wilderness to carry the consolations of religion
to the widely remote stations where some few of his com-
munion resided* During these long missionary excursions,
the bare floor was frequently his bed, the saddle his pillow,
and the coarsest lood his fare,

lu founding a colony on the site he had chosen, it was ne-
cessary for him to purchase large tracts of land, and subdivide
them into small farms, in order to induce emigrants to flock
thither* Selling these allotments at the nominal price of four
dollars an acre, but oftener giving them away, he erected grist-
mills, 6aw*mills, and other facilities of subsistence which were
not then to be found in that region, whose settlers had been
wont to travel thirty or forty miles to grind their bread-stuffs,
and to procure the necessaries of life. He contracted a very
large debt, relying upon his patrimony for the means of pay»

358 PAurcB GALLnznr. [Ap4f

ing it The town thus founded he named Loretto, in honor
of the Virgin Mary, whose humble bouae, believed by the
faithful to have been transported from Palestine to that city
of the Adriatic, is saluted by the returning sailor with die
sweet hymn, " Ave, maris stella."

In March, 1803, while the young missionary of the Alle-
ghanies was busily carrying out his benevolent plans, his
father died at Brunswick, still clinging to his atheistical no-
tions, and embittering the existence of his wife, by reproach*
ing her with the loss of their only son, who had exchanged
the soft raiment of kings' palaces for the girdle of camel's hair
and the locusts and wild honey of the wilderness.

The news of Prince Gallitzin*s death reached his soUi
accompanied by the urgent solicitation of his mother and
friends that he would sail immediately for Russia, with the
proper evidences of his identity, and claim the family estates
as the legal heir and successor. They held before him the
immense benefit which the possession of such wealth would
enable him to confer upon his needy colony. The Prin-
cess wrote to the Abb^ Nagot and Bishop Carroll, urging
the same arguments, upon which they advised his re-
turn.

But Father Grallitzin felt that, if he went home, it would be
like turning back after putting his hand to the plough, and he
stated to the Bishop that he had '^ caused a great number of
Catholic families to settle in a wild and uncultivated region,
where they formed a parish of considerable size ; that the
legislature had proposed to establish there a county seat, and
that numbers still continued to fiock thither." As the Bishop
was not able to send any other priest to take his place, he
was convinced that the shepherd should reraafn with bb
flock. The zealous missionary wrote to his mother, that,
whatever he might gain by the voyage in a temporal point of
view, could not, in his estimation, be compared with the loss
of a single soul that might be occasioned by his absence. At
the earnest entreaty of his mother, he appointed Baron de
Fiirstenberg, prime minister and vicar-general to the Elector
of Cologne, and the Imperial Counts Frederick Leopold de
Stolberg and Clemens Augustus Mervelt, his agents for the

PRINCE GALLITZBT^

359

recovery of his lawful patrimony, and in 1808 he received the
following report from them regarding it,

** The question conceraing your claim and that of the Princess, your
sister, to your father's property in Russia, is so determinetl by the Sen-
ate at St, Petersburg, that you, dearest PriDce, in consequence of hav-
ing embraced the Catholic faith and clerical profession, cannot Im ad-
mitted to the possesaioDs of your deceased father, and therefore your
siater, the Princess, b to be considered sole heiress to the said estate,
and is to be put in possession of the same. The C'ouDcil of State has
given the same decision, and the Emperor has sanctioned it, so that the
sentence has now received the force of law. The Princess, your sister,
has, by the laws of Russia, perfect control over the income, but cJinnot
give the property away, or dispose of it by will. However, she is at
liberty to sell it, and dispose of the moneys arising from the sale, Tou
see, then, dearest Prince, that you are only nominally excluded. Your
dear and respected mother often thought it possible, and even probable,
that the decision would fall out the way it did, and was wont to say,
* It is immaterial whether the senteoce in Russia be pronounced in
fiivor of botli ray children, or onjy of my daughter ; ray son can Jose
nothing by it,' Even in Russia, the business is considered in the same
light. We therefore congratulate you on the happy issue of this mat-
ter, without regarding the killing letter of the law, as in this case the
spirit of justice and love makes up the loss to you,"

The Princess Anna Maria de Gallitzin, whom the Russian
courts had declared sole heiress of her father, to the exclusion
of her brother on account of his religious faith, engaged to
divide equally with him the revenue of the estates during her
life, and at her death to leave him alL These promises,
made in good faith, were subsequently rendered noil and void
by her marriage with the needy German Prince von Salm.
Principally through the irillueace of her brother's letters, she
too had become a Romanist, and the most affectionate feel-
ing existed between them. She had made her will, and ap*
prised him that in it she had left him a large sum of money ;
but on her death-bed, and in the moment of mortal agony, a
paper purporting to be her last will and testament carefully
prepared was placed before her, and a strong hand guided
hers until her name was ailixed to this instrument, by which
all her fortune was left to her husband, the Prince von Salra,
After the death of his sister, Father Gallitzin was informed

360 PRiNOS GALUTznr. [A]»fl,

of all the particulars of the fraudulent substitution of i
will, and offers were made bim to use bis name and csontestit
at law. As dear proof of the facts could be bad, there was
no doubt that the last will would be declared illegal ; bat be
declined to make any stir in the matter, saying that an in-
vestigation must injure some one, and he could suffer wrong
and hardship, but would inflict none. By the death of the
Princess von Salm, the Russian estates, not having been sold,
passed to the next male relative, and were inherited by m
cousin, — that Prince Gallitzin who, as aide-de-camp to the
Emperor Alexander, entered Paris with the allied armies at
the downfall of Napoleon.

When an acquaintance of Father Galli zin inquired of him
if the difference between the Greek and the Roman Choich
was so great as to be impassable, hinting that by such a
change his estates would be restored to him, he repUed, smil-
ingly : '* I deem the difference quite sufficient to keep me
where I am. In view of the Russian courts, I am legaUy
dead. My cousin is the lawful heir; I have reason to believe
him an excellent man ; but never having been in Russia, I do
not know bim personally. He manifests much regard and
kindness towards me, as I learn from the Russian Ambassa*
dor at Washington."

The Princess Gallitzin died in 1806, before the decision
of the Russian courts was made known. By her will she left
the large and valuable collection of Greek and Roman an*
tiquities made by her husband, and which had become her
property, to be sold, and the proceeds applied by the Abbi
Overberg to found religious institutions for the poor, and for
other charitable objects. The Abb6 decided that the colony of
the Reverend Prince de Gallitzin, on the AUeghanies, met the
design of the will, and the proceeds of the sale, twenty thou*
sand dollars, were paid to Prince von Salm, to be forwarded
to his brother-in-law in America ; but only half that amount
was sent over, the urgent wants of the German prince absorb-
ing the balance.

Father Gallitzin had been encouraged to hope that he
should receive a large share of his patrimony, and, depending
upon remittances from home, he had incurred debts for his

185a]

PRINCE OALLITZIK.

361

beloved people. His ardent desire was to rear up a great
Catholic gettleraeat around the summits of the Alleghany
Mountains, and for this end, undismayed and undaunted by
ilficulties and embarrassments that would have overpowered
'ii weaker mind, he patiently toiled and waited. It is estimated
that he expended upon these objects about seven hundred and
fifty thousand francs, or one hundred and 6fty thousand dol-
lars. No portion of this was spent for his own pleasure or
comfort, as his personal habits were peculiarly plain and sim-
ple. His food generally consisted of coarse bread and garden
vegetables, his clothing was of the plainest and roughest
homespun, and his house was a rude log-cabin, whose door
was always hospitably open to the poor and the stran-
^^ger* To complete his self-abnegation, he dropped the noble
^KBame of De Gallitzin, and passed among his people as plain
^^ Mr, Smith, which he chose as sounding somewhat like his
L_ mother's name of Schmettau, and as a perfectly safe disguise
Bnto shield him from the inquiries which even in that remote
^HiDorner of the earth pursued the princely missionary. His
j^'name was entered on the State records as Demetrius Au-
" gustin Smith, when he appeared in court to defend the
guardianship of a child intrusted to his care, and on a writ of
j ejectment for certain lands.
I At the time when his labors were much embarrassed for

^H.want of the promised remittances from Europe, the Prince
^Ht)f Orange, now by the pacification of Europe become the
^pking of Holland, instructed his ambassador at Washington
I to seek out the residence of his early friend. Inquiries were
set on foot, and after some difficulty the Prince de Gailit-
zin was discovered in the humble Father Smith of Loretto.
The king manifested the most friendly disposition towards
his friend, and offered to do for hira anything in his power;
but all pecuniary aid was declined. The king, however, hear-
ing of his need, authorized the envoy to say that he had still
in his possession certain jewelry belonging to Gallitzin, a
gold watch-chain, snuff-box, and rings left in his keeping
when the young traveller departed for this country, for which
he directed his minister to pay the sum of two thousand doU
[lars. *' I knew well enough,'* said Father Gallit;ein, when re-
VOL, Lxxxvin. — NO. 183. 31

362 PBiNOB eALLTTzm. [Apiili

lating the circamstance, ^ that it was done through fiiendflUiv
as it was far more than the value of the articles. He thougbt
I was poor, and his delicacy found this mode of approacliiiig
me. I could not refuse to receive it, for our boyish yowb of
friendship and every consideration that could move me wen
invoked." The promises of kings and princes are pro^etfai-
ally made to be broken ; but this deserves to be recorded as
a remarkable instance of faithfulness, still more singular
when we remember the king of Holland as the defender of
Protestantism on the continent of Europe, and the Bnssian
prince as th3 propagandist of the Roman Catholic dogmas in
America.

At the time of Father Gkdiitzin's urgent need of money, be
accepted a loan of five thousand dollars from the Russian
ambassador at Washington, for which be gave his bond, ex-
pecting to be able to return it speedily, but being disap*
pointed in receiving remittances, he hastened to the capital to
seek an interview with the ambassador, who invited the mii^
sionary to dine with him, and asked Henry Clay, then recently
returned from the court of Holland, and other distinguished
guests, to meet him. After dinner, when cigars and a candle
were placed on the table, Father Oallitzin, who sat near his
host, saw him carefully rolling up a paper for an allumette,
and involuntarily following his hand as it approached the can-
dle, discovered his own name, and recognized in the burning
paper the bond for five thousand dollars. Embracing the first
opportunity, he spoke to the ambassador upon the subject,
who declared the matter entirely settled, and would hear no
more about it As a pendant to these anecdotes of high life,
we will add another drawn from humbler walks. When the
laborers on the Pennsylvania Canal, then in progress, heaid
that the home of Father Smith was to be sold by the sheriff
they raised the money and paid the debt.

In 1837, Father Gallitzin, writing to a friend in Europe,
who urged him to return and make another effort for the re-
covery of his estates, says : —

^< I am afraid my journey to Eorope must be deferred cut GraeoM
Kalendas. Being in my sixty-seventh year, burdened moreover with
the remnant of my debts, reduced from eighteen thousand to about two

1859.]

FRIKCE GALLITZCN.

363

thousand five hundred, I bad better spend my few remaining years,
if an J, 10 trying to pay off that balance, and preparing for a longer
journey."

He considered that a Tetiremeiit from his post would be
construed into a desertion of his beloved flock, and would
appear like a desire to shun the pecuniary responsibility he
had incurred. Like the Israelites under Moses, his people
often murmured, and said, ** Ye have brought us forth into
this wilderness, to kill this whole assembly with hunger.*'

In enumerating the labors of Father Gallitzin in his bleak
mountain home, we must not neglect to mention that he found
time to write several religious books, which have become cele-
brated both in Europe and America. They have been com-
pared by competent judges to the Exposition of Faith by the
immortal Bossaet. The occasion which called forth these
works was a fast-day sermon preached by a Presibyterian
minister of the neighboring town of Huntingdon, This dis-
course was said to be a recast of one delivered about the time
of Braddock's campaign, by William Smith, D. D., an Epis*
copal clergyman of Philadelphia, and proprietor of the town
of Huntingdon* In that something was said of "our Papist
and heathen neighbors," referring to the French and Indians
who then held Fort Duquesne and the borders of Pennsylva-

*>liia. The reproduction of this old sermon appears to have
been a circumstance peculiarly unfortunate, as the Demo-
cratic wing of the congregation took offence at some remarks

I against Prci^ident Madison's administration, and seceded, while
Father Gallitzin, in behalf of the " Papist and heathen neigh-
bors," demanded an explanation and retraction. The contro-
versy was for a time carried on in the local newspapers ; but
at length the Presbyterian minister published a pamphlet
against Father Gallitzin and his religion. In reply Father
Gallitzin issued a book entitled *^ A Defence of Catholic Prin-
ciples," It was circulated freely among Protestants, and uni-
versally considered by far the abler work of the two. The
humility which led him to say, in one of his prefaces, that he

I was glad that the same God who had made an ass speak had
enabled his ignorance to say something in favor of the Cath-
olic cause, induced him to think that it was not the graces of

364 PEINCB QALLTEZOr. [*^Mp4

diction and vigor of style which made hia work admired, but
a leaning towards the faith therein defended. He therefoie
published two other volumes, severally called *^ A Lictter to m
Protestant Friend,'' and " An Appeal to the Protestant Pub-
lic." Both of these bear the marks of learning and refine-
ment, joined with great earnestness of purpose and sincere
faith in the doctrines set forth. They were extensively read
by the class to whom they were addressed, and, with the
knowledge of the heroic devotion of the writer to the cause
he advocated, it does not seem strange that they should have
been instrumental in turning many Protestants to a fiuth
which had borne such fruits. We must believe that it was
the lifelong example of the author, and* not the principles set
forth, which produced the effect.

Though retired from the world. Father Gallitzin took a lively
interest in the public affairs of his adopted country. Doriog
the war of 1812, nearly all the members of hb congregation
capable of bearing arms sought the scene of conflict. One
recreant among their number deserted his post, and, on his
return home, called upon his pastor, who refused the proffered
hand, and, assuming a proud and stately attitude befitting
the born prince, — the spirit of the soldier rising above the
habit of the priest, — sternly rebuked the deserter with the
biting sentence : << Leave my presence ; I never shake hands
with a coward."

Father Gallitzin, though severe to himself, was kind and
benevolent to all others, — charitable even to a fault If what
he gave was misapplied by the receiver, he would say, " I
gave it not to him ; I gave it to God." The winter before
his death was particularly severe. Snow fell to an unusual
depth, so that not only the poor, but many in comforta-
ble circumstances, became short of fuel. Hearing of the
distress on this account, Father Gallitzin sent word for all
who were in need to come to him, and his scanty stock was
made common property. In connection with this we may
mention that he never permitted the introduction of stoves
into the church. In the coldest days of a mountain winter,
on one of the bleakest summits of the Alleghany range, he
officiated without any other warmth than his own zeal ; yet

raiKCE OALLITZm.

365

neither he, nor any one of his congregation, was ever heard to
complain of the cold. He was also much opposed to the use
of ornaments in the sacred edifice; and, during his lifetime,
pews and seats were unknown there, but all knelt or stood
during the entire service.

The following account of Father Gallitzin as a preacher
is given by a Protestant gentleman, who was personally ac-
quainted with this remarkable man.

** la turning to the audience, after the services of the altar, he pre-
sented the appearance of a man in the decline of life, yet not in the
least enfeebled by age or disease* Tliotigh far from robust, his appear-
ance was still vigorous and elastic. It will be borne in mind that this
was within a jear of his death, when he was nearly seventy years of
age. He oommenced his remarks in a gimple and conversational style,
in remarkably pure English^ and in the most famih"ar terms that could
be selected to convey his ideas. As he progressed > though you could
notioe no change in his voice or his manner, yet your interest in the
speaker and in his theme deepened with every sentence. His re-
marks thrust themselves home to every bosom ; and it seemed as if
every member of that vast congregation felt himself individuated, and
addressed in matters concerning himself more nearly than any other
person- Once or twice in the course of lus remarks, he was truly elo-
quent. Then his form would incline slightly forward, bis face become
flushed, and his eye light up with an almost unearthly brightness. But
this would be only momentary, and so far from being studied, it
seemed to be against his better judgment; and at the end of a sen-
tence or two the conversattooal style was resumed. His sermon (if it
could be called by that name) occupied less than thirty minutes in its
delivery."

Father Gallitzin's health was always dclicatr, and the un*
remitting labors of Passion Week appear to have occasioned
the illness which terminated in his death. A life so holy
was perfected and glorified in its close. Trusting alone in
the merits of a crucified Saviour, he sank quietly to his rest.
Self-exiled from his native land, far from the home and tomb
of his noble kindred, this missionary of the cross died where
for forty-one long years he had lived and toiled and suffered.
Directly in front of the church is the monument erected to his
memory, where his mortal remains repose. The traveller, as
he stands on this elevated point of land, looks down upon
31*

366 FBINCB OALLnZDT. [*^Mp4

the wide expanse of country over which the feet of this
of God 80 often trod to visit his widely scattered flock, thioagh
drifting snow or summer's scorching heat. Commeocing with
only twelve families, he left six thousand souls to monm hb
departure. The memorial which they erected to their bdoved
pastor is a handsome stone cenotaph, approached by a flight
of broad steps. But its solidity and beauty are impaired faj
the large wooden coffin and cross, colored in imitation of
stone, which crown the pile. On two sides slabs of iirhita
marble are inserted (already cracked by the severity of the
cold). One of these bears the following inscription : —

''Sacram memoriae Dem. A. e Principibus Gallitzin Nat. xxil
Dec A. D. 1770, in sacerdotium erectus, et sacro miniBterio per tol^
annos perfunctus, fide, zelo, caritate insignis. Hie obixt die vi. M^S^^
A.D. MDCCCXL. R I. P."

On the other slab are cut these words : —

'< Sacred to the memory of Demetrius A. GallitziOy of the noUe
Russian family of that name ; bom at the Hague Dec. 22d| 1770 ; died
here May 6th, 1840. He was pastor of this congregation one and forty
years. A loving fiock, reaping the fruits of his all-sacrificing seal,
erected this monument as a tribute of respect to his virtues, and a
memorial of their gratitude, A. D. 1847.**

In person Father Gallitzin was about five feet eleven inches
in height, and well propo;tioned. His face was handsomei
manly, with a marked expression of firmness and courage.
He who once saw the peculiar expression of his lustrous eye
could never forget it Singularly afiable and gentle in his
manners, he yet inspired all who approached him with re-
spect He seldom mentioned bis antecedents, save to inti*
mate friends, and nothing annoyed him more than to be
spoken of as anything beyond plain Father Smith, the pastor
of the Alleghanies. He was several times offered a bishop-
ric, and the see of Pittsburg was pressed upon hb accept-
ance ; but as he had resigned all temporal power and prefer-
ment, so did he shrink from receiving spiritual honors, wish-
ing for nothing beyond the care of the humble colony he had
planted in the wilderness.

It seems a little singular that no extended memoir has been

4^ ]

1859.] BUSHNKLL'S nature AX1» TUE SUPEENATtmAL, 367

written of a man who has raade so decided a mark upon the
region where he dwelt. Though he was universally spoken
of with praise, by persons of every rank and sect, yet the
eulogy whose title stands at the head of this article, and a few
slight notices in magazines and newspapers, arc the only pub-
lished records vouchsafed by a Church generally too ready
to canonize new saints, in honor of this ardent confessor and
convert to her faith. The writer of these pages has had
rauch difliculty in collecting from different sources, and ar-
ranging connectedly, even this brief sketch of his truly apos-
tolic life and virtues. The name of Gallitzin, so honorably
borne and humbly renounced by one who united the seem-
ingly incongruous titles of Prince;, Priest, and Pioneer, has
been given to a village at the western terminus of the tunnel
wliich connects, through the great barrier of Nature, the East
with the West Emerging from among the foundations of the
everlasting hills, the traveller on the Pennsylvania Railroad,
as the light of day once more greets his eyes, will hear the
conductor's call of Gallitzin, and know that on the summit of
the mountain, through whose boaom he has jus^t passed, lived,
unknown to fame, one born and educated in the enervating
atmosphere of courts, but who gave up his earthly inheritance
to lead a life of toil amid these rude forests, hoping for an
eternal reward in that crown of glory which fadeth not away.

tRT. V. — Nature and (he Superfmiuralj as iogcUier constUuting
the One St/stem of GocL By Horace Busunell. New
York : Charles Scribner. 1858. 12rao, pp. 528.

This is a book of decided mark, rich in thought, bold in
diction, and in aim and purpose true and earnest It treats
the highest and most sacred of subjects with the reverence of
a genuine disciple, kindling his heart at the altar of the living
God, and schooling his thoughts by the discipline of patient
study. It has, throughout, the vividness and glowing in*
apiratioB of genius. Its style is fresh and racy; sometimes,

368 BUSHNELL'S NATUBB AHB CHB SUPBBHATimAL. [Apdl)

perhaps, too redundant of rhetorical figare for philoscyphieal
discussion. This may' have little force with eareftd thinken;
but it contributes much to effect on that numerons dasa of
minds with which rhetoric is more powerful than logic It is
therefore well that the esteemed author did not give lus
thoughts to the world in a dry and scholastic stylci but in a
manner so eminently adapted to the popular mind. This is
the more important, for the reason that many of those who
ought to be benefited by the book have been led astray by
exciting appeals to sentiment and imagination, and have
become incapable of appreciating an argument unless it u
introduced to them through the same channels. But while
this style of writing upon 9uch subjects has its advantages, it
has also its disadvantages, and must not be allowed to dis-
place the more exact and logical discussion, through whidi
cautious thinkers are enabled to see the truth in its own
beauty, like pearls at the bottom of calm, crystal waters.

With this general notice of the work before us, we proceed
to the examination of some of its principal points and aigo-
ments.

Christianity teaches that the universe includes a realm of
spiritual beings, God himself and all his rational creatores
made in his image ; and that what is commonly called naUtre
is in their service. Each of these systems is governed by
laws adapted to its constitution and needs. In accordance
with this view the author says : —

<< Exactly this wc expect to show ; viz., that God has, in fiMSt»
erected another and higher system, that of spiritual being and gov-
ernment, for which nature exists ; a system not under the law of osnae
and effect, but ruled and marshalled under other kinds of laws and
able continually to act upon, or vary the action of the processes of
nature." — p. 38.

The first and most express denial of this is found in atheism.
The creed thus designated knows no higher divinity than
nature and its laws, which it supposes to be uncreated, neces-
sary, eternal. It is the old Sadducean doctrine, asserting
that there is ^^ neither angel nor spirit" It is materialism^
in the strictest sense. If there be any religious element
grafted upon it, the term to designate it would properly be

1859.] bushnbll's natitre and the supernatuiial.

369

naturalistic religion. We must not confound this witli natural
religion ; for the latter term is used to designate the reiigion
taught by nature, which, so far as it goes, may be the same as
that taught by revelation ; while the former term is intended
to deny all other existence, and thus to preclude all reiigion
but that of mere nature.

The next denial is found in pantkeistn. This differs from
atheism in supposing a sort of intelligent nisus in nature, in
obedience to which the universe has eternally moved on, as
now, by fixed and necessary laws. All is one and the same
being ; all is God, Such was the doctrine of Spinoza, in
which he followed out and reduced to system the speculations
of some ancient Chaldoean and Greek philosophers. Thus
Lucan in the Pharsalia introduces Cato as saying ;

'^ Estne Dei sedeB, ntsi terra, ei pontus, et aer,
Et caelum, el vinua? Superos quid quKrimus ultra T
Jupiter est quodcumque videa, quocumque moveris."

Xenophanes, Parmenides, Melissus, and others of that school,
taught substantially the same doctrine, called, from its birth-
place, the Eleatic pliilosophy* In modern times this doctrine
has been somewhat modified, at least in terms. Some of
the more absurd positions of the apostate Jew, refuted by
Bayle, Clarke, Cudworth, and others, have been so accom-
modated to the speculations of the Hegelian philosophy, as
to give it a rather decent and inviting face.

Pantheism is of two kinds, — material^ or hylozoisra, and
spiritual^ or psychozoisra. The former denies the existence of
spirit, and differs from atheism only in allirralng that the phe-
nomena of nature and life are not the result of a fortuitous
concourse of atoms, but of eternal laws in nature itself. The
latter affirms the existence of spirit, and sometimes virtually
denies that of matter. Its distinctive point is that of making
all spirit one and the same substance, ^ — God, — of which are
the spirit of man and all other spirits. It is this latter pan-
theism that finds itself so much at home in the Platonic and
German philosophies. It creeps into some mystical sermons
of a certain class of speculative and sentimental preachers,
who are not perhaps themselves always aware what they
are preaching. It is the philosophical basis of what may be

370 BUBHNBLL'S KATUSB and XHB BUFBBHrAXD&AL. [A|id^

called rationalistic univerealiam, as dbtingoiahed from tlwt
which appeals to the Scriptares.

Now if the above views are correct, it will appear tlnti
while the author before us has done excellent service, he has
not exactly met the main points at issue, whether with the
naturalistic, pantheistic, or absolute religion. He claims that
man, like God, is a supernatural beingi having power over
nature as God has, only of a lower grade.

<^ Though there seems to be an immense difference in the grade of
the results accomplished, it is only a difference which ooght to appear,
regarding the grade of the two agents by whom they are wxwi^fat
How different the power of two men, creatures though they be of the
same order; a Newton, for example, a Watt, a Fulton; and
wild Patagonian or stunted Esquimaux. So, if there be angels^ i
phim, thrones, dominions, all in ascending scales of endowment abcrra
one another, they will, of course, have powers supernatural, or capacities
to act on the lines of causes in nature, that correspond with their natu-
ral quantity and degree. What wonder, then, is it, in the caaeof Jesas
Christ, that he reveals a power over nature, appropriate to the scale of
his being and the inherent supremacy of his <Hvine person P"^- p. 60.

We presume that the author maintains, with us, that the
miracles of Christ were wrought by the power of GJod. Now,
however man may operate upon matter, availing himself of its
laws, he never creates it, not even the smallest particle. The
distinction here between man and God is not in ^de, but in
kind. It does not appear that such kind of power as man has,
however augmented, could originate matter. It is not of a
kind to be relevant to that effect Power is a property or at*
tribute, and is always relative. Out of relation it is not power.
Pantheism claims that^ whatever feats may be performed tgMm
matter, we know of no power, however augmented, which
can create it ; and it asserts the absence of all proof that such
a power does or caa exist It hence infers that matter, if it
exists at all, is self-existent and eternal. But if it has the
prerogatives of self-existence and eternity, it holds a position
which Christian theism gives only to God, and thus challenges
the honors of his throne. We have, then, only to suppose it
permeated with life and intelligence, working by inherent and
necessary laws, and we have just what pantheism claims.

1809.] dushnell's nature Aim the supsRNATimAi^ 371

AU is God. This differs little from the old notion of an anima
miauli; and the famous couplet of Pope,

*♦ All tre bot parts of one Btupeodous whole^
Whose body nature is, and God the soul/'

becomes something quite other and more than fine poetry*

Nor does the author's argument gain anything upon the
pantheist or the naturalist, by giving the name ** powers " to
God, angels, and men, in common. Strictly speaking, neither
God nor man is a power, but a being who has power as one
of his attributes. But the power of God and the power of
man differ, as we have said, not only in degree, but in kind,
God has creative power; but man has not creative power,
even in the least degree. The power to create matter and the
power to operate upon it are infinitely apart from and unlike
each other. The one is human, the other divine. God has
never intrusted the glory of creative power to another, — not
even to the highest angel. *' By him were alJ things created."
If we descend from men to brutes, they too have powers as
adequate to their purpo.ses as human power is to its purpose.
They have power to propagate, rear, and protect their species,
and to do all they w^ere made to do. Descending from them
to vegetables, these too have their appropriate powers. There
is power in the herb and in the oak, power in the waterfall
and in the diamond. Man is as powerful for the end for
which he exists, as God is for that for w^hich he exists; and
the horse or the w^aterfall is as powerful for its purpose as
man is for his. The horse has more power to draw than man
has, but not to think ; the waterfall has power to turn a wheel,
but none to reason. The power of a waterfall may just aa
soon solve a mathematical problem, as the power of man may
create a particle of matter. Suppose the powder of the water-
fall infinitely increased; it comes no nearer to solving the
problem. Suppose the power of man infinitely increased ; it
comes no nearer to creating matter-
Nothing is gained, then, by departing from the current
nomenclature. Except in poetic use, the term * powers " in-
dicates neither beir gs nor things, but one of their properties.
We have been accustomed to call God, angels, and men, ra-

372 BUSHRXLIi'S BT ATUBX AND THE BXjnBXATCBAU [Af^

tional beings, and all else irrational or inanimate natiire. The
former are in philosophy persons ; the latter, thing's^ Nritiier
are powers, but all are powerful in their way. The creation of
matter implies a power, therefore, transcending all analogies
and all comprehension. We can no more comprehend how
matter is created, than we can create it This pantheism
claims ; and this we fully admit

Nor does the geological argument refute the pantheist
Let us see. The argument is, that there was a time when
a certain creature — say .the mastodon — was not upon the
earth, and then afterwards the mastodon was upon the earth;
that there was a time when man was not, and then a time
when man was ; — that successive creations have thus taken
place. These facts are recorded in the rocks that cannot lie,
and reported by unerring science. It is claimed that they
demonstrate a supernatural power. But we must rememb^
that none of these are original creations of matter. They ex-
hibit new modes and combinations of it, with corresponding
activities ; but how does it appear that, in the sweep of ever*
lasting ages, they may not have come in the natural progrese
of necessary and eternal laws ? How do we know but that
the formative power in question is in nature, and not above
it? The former is all that the pantheist claims. Nature
is then his God. But it is argued that man has a spirit,
which effects changes upon matter, and that God does the
same, in an infinitely higher degree. Unfortunately for the
argument, science reveals to us no operation of the spirit of
man, except in its connection with matter ; and the question
at issue is, whether what we call life and spirit are prop>
erties of matter, eternally inherent in it, so that nature itself
has the power to produce the successive species of creatures,
or whether the power resides in a purely spiritual being,
apart from matter. In the former case wc have pantheism ;
in the latter, a personal God. The geological argument cer-
tainly proves the existence of a power very unlike that of
m&n, and in some respects vastly more wonderful. Man has
power to propoffote his species, but here is a power that origu
notes a species. Now it is admitted that the power of man to
propagate his species is in nature ; and how is it certain that

1859.] bushnell's natube and the supebnatubal. 373

the power which originates a species is not also in nature?
We have not, it is true, witnessed the latter phenomenon ; but
this is no proof that it may not occur, at certain distant inter-
vals, as the result of raere natural law. It should be remem-
bered, however, that proof has never been furnished that this
phenomenon ever did thus occur. Science has demonstrated
the phenomenon as a fact, but of its cause it is wholly igno-
rant. Aa a question of pure science, therefore, the pantheist
and the Christian theist are here both in the same predica-
ment : neither knows anything about it, and it can be settled
only by a higher appeal

The question of miracles, as related to the views of Theo-
dore Parker, has no necessary connection with either naturalism
or pantheism ; for he espouses neither of these* He claims
allegiance to " absolute religion." It is at this point that he
is at issue with Christianity ; and it is precisely and only
here that he is to be philosophically met. The speculations
of Leibnitz, Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, commencing
with the theory of monads and pre-established harmony, pass-
ing through various ontological and empirical inquiries con-
cerning reason and understanding, the universal and individual
Ego, and the cognition of phenomena alone as distinguished
from their causes, culminated in the virtual rejection of all
objective testimony. It was the problem of the transcenden-
tal philosophy to harmonize the subjective and the objective,
and this was finally done by merging the latter in the former.
'' Everything which is, is in essence like the reason, and is one
with it.** " Besides reason there is nothing, and in it is every-
thing. Reason is the absolute." All objectivity is only an
apocalypse of reason, and thus every man is a revelation to
himself. No external evidence can reverse the previous decis-
ions of the absolute and infallible reason. On this theory,
involving some fundamental and primary truths with fun-
damental and primary errors, was based the absolute relig-
ion,— a religion of course depending in no wise upon word
and miracle, testimony and teaching. Its motive force is
sentiment, Esthetics is joined to teleology, and the true
and the beautiful, as cognized in the intuitions of reason,
is the sole divinity. Such is the philosophy and such the

VOL. Lxxxvin. — NO. 183. 32

374 BUSHIfSLL'S KATUai AND TEX BUPERVATinUIi. [<^M*%

religion called absolute, which Mr. Parker has brougfat ont wo
luminously, but not always accurately, in Tariooa forma.*

We do not, of course, propose to discuss this subject ben,
but will simply say, that, when the absolute religion is stripped
of all accidents and thoroughly sifted, nothing of it temsiiis
but empty abstractions, if we except those essential pxindipks
of truth and right which Christianity admits. As we ban
said, Mr. Parker is not a naturalist ; that implies the belief
of something quite substantial, apart from the intoitloiis of
reason. He is not a mystic, that is, a spiritualistic pantheist.
He is an absolutist ; and this, when carefully examinedi md^
cates one who, under the inspiration of sentiment, relies open
the supposed absolute self-revelations of reason, to the excliH
sion of objective testimony. Reason is all in religion^ as in
philosophy. Hence Mr. Parker denies miracles, not because
he is naturalistic, assuming that there is no power above
nature, but because miracles, as he asserts, could be of no
service in proving an absolute religion, too deeply implanted
in the very constitution of the soul to require that kind
of evidence. Indeed, he thinks that miracles would rather
weaken than confirm it The denial of miracles is a legiti-
mate sequUur of his philosophy, and hence the philosophy fnr-
iiishcs the true point of attack.

We have a word to say, in this connection, respecting the
following remark of our author upon vital chemistry: —

'* The lives that construct and organize the bodies they inhabit, are the
highest forms of nature, and are set in nature as types of a yet higher
order of existence, viz. spirit, or free intelligence. They are immate-
rial, having neither weight nor dimensions of their own ; and, what is
yet closer to mind, they act by no dynamic force, or impulsion, hot
from themselves ; coming down upon matter, as architects and cfaemist^
to do their own wiU, as it were, upon the raw matter and the dead
chemistry of the world.^ — p. 72.

• See ptrticaltrly, on this lalgect, Kant's Critique of the Pore Reison, of the
.Esthetic Faculty of Jadgment, and of Religion within the Bounds of Pore Beaaon,
Fichte's Theory of Science ( WiM$en9(^efiddure), Schelling's Essay on the Worid-
Soul, and Hegers Phenomenology of the Ifind and Science of Logic, m connec-
tion with Parker'i Sermons of Theism, Disconne of Beligion, and Ten Sermons
of Religion.

1859.] BUSHNELL*8 NATUKE AND THB 6UPERNATU11AL, 375

But life is not a being or thing by itself: it h a property of
some being or thing. To speak of ** lives " as immaterial, and
coming down upon matter as architects and chemists to do their
own will or to execute a '* certain plastic instincV is to use
language that has no meaning, or to assert that there are liv-
ing immaterial creatures^ pure spirits, existing in nature as its
"highest forms, which construct and organize the bodies they
inhabit/' This begs the very proposition which the naturalist
denies, namely, that any such spirits do exist apart from matter.
It is, however, one form of the spiritualistic pantheism, and is
a figment of the old Platonic doctrine. But we have no idea
that our author means to teach it. He undoubtedly believes,
as much as we do, that the ** lives " which pertain to vegeta-
bles and animals did not exist before the beings of which
they are a property, but that God creates, or causes to be
propagated, the various vegetables and animals alive. Life
does not go before that to which it pertains, and cause
it to be; the creature or tiling is caused to be alive, and
to be what it is, by a higher power.

The proof that there is an eternal and self-existent God,
the Creator and Ruler of the universe, competent to the mi-
raculous or supernatural attestations of his will claimed by
Christianity, depends on no precarious argument. Whether
we argue a priori, from the insight of reason, or a posteriori^
from effect to cause, the demonstration is aljke certain. No
other view than that which recognizes such a God satisfies
the demantis of enlightened reason. Man the finite looks for
the infinite, but does not find it, until he finds it in a God
able to create as well as to govern material nature. More-
over, if God does not create matter, then God belongs to
matter as much as matter to God. They are either one self-
existent substance, or they are, as some ancient philosophers
maintained, two self-existent substances, equally enthroned
side by side in eternity. We are not, then, to worship God
alone, as the enthroned Creator of ail things ; but to regard
him as rivallctj, displaced, occupying only half a throne.
Spirit and matter are coequal. But whea we contemplate
God as both creating and controlling material nature with
reference to a wise and benevolent end, the highest demand of

376 bushnell's naturb and the supebnatural. [April,

reason is satisfied. Such a God we may all see we need, to
have the care of us, and to be the object of our enlightened
and affectionate homage. If we argue a posteriori^ from
effect to cause, the proof is no less sure. We do not, indeed,
comprehend the power that creates either a particle of matter
or a finite spirit ; it " passeth all understanding." No more
do we comprehend the power which causes a new species to
begin to exist, or which works a miracle of any kind ; but we
know that new species have been caused to exist, and we
have unquestionable proof that miracles have been wrought.

But in admitting the evidence of a God, who is the Crea-
tor and Disposer of material nature, we do not need to
suppose that in a whole past eternity he has existed alone, —
a supposition at which some minds revolt. As he eternally
had the power to create and to destroy at his pleasure, it
is not for us to say that he has not eternally used it " In the
beginning God created the heavens and the earth " ; but this
may refer to the beginning of the present economy. Whether
other economies have come and gone, at the almighty fiat, in
past eternal ages, we are not informed. All that Christian
theism claims on this point is, that God is an infinite personal
Spirit, the Creator of all, and the righteous Ruler of all in the
interests of his great spiritual family. Here the finite spirit
finds its Infinite Father ; here the dependent soul finds its God.
Man is a person, and can rationally love and worship only
a personal being. This is the reason why feticism and all
kinds of idolatry are so debasing. None. but a being both
personal and infinite could be the Father and Maker of man ;
none but such a being can man truly love and worship as
God. The stream cannot rise above the fountain ; the less
cannot give existence to the greater. If man has the high
and distinguishing rank of personality, his Maker and Father
cannot have less. It is certain, from the constitution of
the soul, that man was made to love and worship ; but as the
affections have beings, and not things, for their object, he
cannot in justice to himself love and worship any other than
a personal and infinite God, such as Christianity reveals.

Pantheism teaches that the universe is a system of devel^
opmerU, made through and in accordance with eternal princi-

1859.] BUSHNELL'S NATUBE AJsu iiil. SUPER^ATITBAL. 377

pies of intelligence. But development implies the existence
already, in embryo, of that which is to be developed. Thus
the boy at a certain age develops his molars, which existed in
embryo in the jaw when it was formed* All creatures with
which we are acquainted first exist in embryo ; and the
embryo is the product, not of development, but of creating or
producing power. The embryo must first exist, or it cannot
be developed, and it cannot exist without a cause. As one
species is not developed into another, the first parents of any !
species must have been caused to exist by a power before and
above them. And what can pantheism mean by " an eternal
principle of inteliigence ^' w^orking in nature ? A principle is
a reason or rule by which a being' works. It does not itself
work. Neither is a principle intelligent ; for intelligence is
the property of a mind. The phrase in question has no
meaning w^hatever, and it must be understood as a figurative
mode of indicating an eternal Being, endowed with intelli-
gence.

No more can God be a perpetual becoming'^ as pantheism
maintains, — a passing onward in everlasting succession of
development. This is philosophically absurd. A material
body may be alive or dead, and be the same body stiiL Tlie
same matter may continue to exist in the same form, or pass
into other forms and live in other bodies. But not so a spirit
or jjcrson. Unless it is a iivififf spirit, it does not exist at all.
The spirit of the brute, we suppose, is a mere animal spirit,
and ceases to exist when the brute dies ; but the spirit of man,
we are taught, survives the body. It must be the same spirit
still ; its identity and personality are essential to its existence.
It is not a becoviitig', when it leaves the body ; it is stUl,
as ever, the same personal being. Precisely this must be true
of God, through all the mutations of nature. As the body of
man, which he uses for a time, becomes old and worn, and he
at last rejects it, but is himself the same personal spirit still,
80 material nature waxes old like a gannent, and when God
has served his purpose by it, he puts it away, but is himself
eternally the same-

The doctrine of Christian theism is, therefore, strictly reason-
able, while that of pantheism is philosophically absurd. Both
32 •

378 bushnbll'b nature and the supernatural. [April,

roust admit facts for which we know of no cause in nature ;
the former, the creation of matter, for instance ; the latter, the
origin of the various species of creatures; but the former
directs us to a cause above nature, an eternal and infinite God,
able to create and to govern all ; while the latter utterly fails
to indicate any rational cause able to do either. In such a
God as Christianity reveals, the Christian miracles, and all the
other exhibitions of supernatural and divine power and wis-
dom, are abundantly provided for.

The nature and reasonableness of a system of moral agency
are exceedingly well stated by our author : —

<^ Is it any impeachment of Grod, that he did not care to reign over
an empire of stones ? If he has dehberately chosen a kind of empire not
to be ruled by force ; if he has deliberately set his children beyond that
kind of control, that they may be governed by truth, reason, bve, want,
fear, and the' like, acting through their consent ; if we find them able to
act even against the will of God, as stones and vegetables cannot, — what
more is necessary to vindicate his goodness, than to suggest that he has
given them, possibly, a capacity to break allegiance, in order that there
may be a meaning and a glory in allegiance, when they choose it ? " —
p. 96.

The author's entire course of remark on this point is as true
and forcible in thought as it is beautiful and rich in illustra-
tion. But we are not so well pleased with his reasoning about
the " condition privative," to account for man's sinning.
When he had so clearly and forcibly said that man is a mdral
agent, he had said all that was justly required. Man was
able to sin, simply because he was able to obey. As a matter
of history, he actually has sinned ; but his conduct in so doing
is utterly inexcusable, and not to be accounted for by referring
it to a condition privative. The author does not indeed say
that his condition " produces, or makes necessary, but in-
volves the certain lapse into evil." He says of a sinless
person on probation : —

<< He must of course be spontaneous to good, and can never fall from
it until his spontaneity is interrupted by some reflective exercise of con-
trivance or deliberative judgment But this will come to pass, withoat
fail, in a very short time ; because he is not only spontaneous to good,
but is also a reflective and deliberative being. And then what shall
become of his integrity ? " — p. Ill .

1859.]

L*8 NATCKli AJNH TEE SUPERNATtJRAL.

379

The subject is here embarrassed by a gratuitous assertion.
How is it certain that "a being in a perfect form of har-
mony,'* and " spontaneous to good," will invariably, *' by
some reflective exercise of contrivance or deliberative judg-
ment," fall from his integrity ? The matter of fact rather is,
that the first step in wrong is usually taken for the want of
deliberative judgment But the author says : —

" It Is another condition privative, as regards the moral perfection of
powers, that they require an empirical training, or course of govern-
ment, to get them established in the absolute law of duty, and that thia
empirical training must probably have a certain ndvei-se effect for a
time, before it can mature its better results

" This process, or drill-practice, will require two economies or courses,
the first of which will be always a failure, taken in itself, but will fur-
nish, nevertheless, a necessary groimd for the second, by which its ef-
fects will be converted into benefits ; and then the result — a holy char-
acter— ^ will be one, of course, that presupposes both," — pp. 117, 118.

But if there be holy angels, as the author supposes there
are, we have no intimation that they were put upon " drill-
practice,'* and fell from their integrity, and were afterwards
reclaimed. On the contrary, we are taught that "the angels
which kept not their first estate'' are reserved for punish-
ment; clearly indicating them as exceptions to the general
rule. If some fell, others did not falL By what authority,
then, is it asserted that *' the first economy of probation will
be always a failure " ? The speculation of Mr. Faber upon
this and some other scriptures is too much like some of his
interpretations of the prophecies to be entitled to serious re-
spect Any hypothesis to explain why men sin, which com-
mits the whole universe of intelligent beings to certain sin
and misery, as the way to holiness and bliss, is not to be
seriously entertained. Besides, it removes no difficulty, but
rather creates a new one ; since just in the degree in which
a ** condition privative *' accounts for sin, it apologizes for it.
Sin is a transgression of the law, — wrong-doing; and it is
absurd to suppose that doing WTong is the way to learn to
do right. Whatever repentance and return to duty may fol-
low, it is an immense loss tu have ever sinned. The best
of governments may have a bad community and a peniten-

380 bushhill's hatdbb ahb thb superstatural. [April,

tiary, bat these comprise only a fractioa of the people ; nnd
even if the earth be regarded aod treated by God as a sort of
penitentiary, we are not thence to infer that the vast majority
of beings made in his image, throughout his bomidless empire,
have not been trae and faithful to him from the b^;iimiiig,
and will not be so for ever.

The nature of the Devil has ever furnished a theme for can-
ous speculation. Citing the Manichsean doctrine of two eternal
principles, the one of good and the other of evil, our authcnr
considers the good principle as God, and the bad principle ^ as
only a condition privative " ; the one a ^ positive and real
cause," the other '^ a bad possibility that environs God fiom
eternity." He supposes that this <^ bad possibility becomes
a bad actuality, an outbreaking evil or empire of evil in cre-
ated spirits, according to their order " ; and this is what he
understands by Satan: —

^ For Satan, or the devD, taken in the singular, is not the name of
any particular person, neither is it a personation merely of temptation,
or impersonal evil, as many insist ; for there is really no such thing as
impersonal evil in the sense of moral evil ; but the name is a name
that generalizes bad persons or spirits, with their bad thoughts and
characters, many in one." — pp. 134, 135.

The notion of Davenport is referred to as authority upon
this subject. Our author adds : —

^ There is also a further reason for this general unifying of the bad
powers in one, or under one conception, in the fact that evil, once begin-
ning to exist, inevitably becomes organic, and constructs a kind of prin-
dpate or kingdom opposite to God.'' — p. 135.

But evil is not a concrete term. It does not indicate a
being, or a class of beings, which can become organic and
constitute a kingdom. Sin is not an agent; the term indi-
cates the quality of something done. We speak of sin,
figuratively, as doing this or that ; but we mean that some
person or persons did it by sinning. It is only personal
beings, acting wickedly, that can organize and construct a
kingdom opposite to God. To say, as our author does, that
'* sin has it in its nature to organize, mount into the ascendant
above God and trutii, and reign in a kingdom opposite to
God," is to use the language of bold rhetoric, and as such it

1859,] bushitell's nature aijd the bupkrnatural. 381

expresses an important truth ; but aa the language of philo-
sophical accuracy it is simply not true* Setting all rhetoric
aside, the truth is this : — There are intelligent spirits, personal
beings, who are wicked and malicious, whom the Scriptures
call devils, or there are not. If there are not, then the terms
Bevil, Satan, Adversary, and the like, arc always to be un-
derstood figuratively, as indicating the bad principles and
actions of men.

The author's discussion of the fact of sin is very able and
conclusive, both in style and in argument The subtile specu-
lations of Dr. Strauss, and the less subtile and therefore less
dangerous speculations of Mr. Parker, which make sin a mere
*' oscillation " in nature, he treats with just rebuke. In
speaking of the anticipated consequences of sin, he admits
that there had been wicked beings in existence, "fixed in a
reprobate character by long courses of evil," before the human
race began to be ; and he supposes that ** they had been visit-
ors and travellers " in this world, so to speak, " during all
the long geologic eras that preceded our coming; hovering, it
may be, in the smoke and steam, or w^atching for congenial
sounds and sights among the crashing masses and grinding
layers, even before the huge monsters began to wallow in the
ooze of the waters, or the giant birds to stalk along the hard-
ening shores. What they did, in this or that geologic layer
of the world, we of course know not As little do we know
in w^hat numbers they appeared, or by w^hat deeds of vio-
lence and wTong they disfigured the existing order." Here is
imagination enough for either ftDlton or Dante himself. The
author is accounting for the disorders of the pre- Adamite state.
The problem of logicians has been to show why there w^ere
so many marks of sin and violence in the world during the
geological ages, before man lived and sinned. This hint is
thrown out to solve the riddle. It is certainly a bright and
bold fancy, if no more. But the cited views of Professor
Agassiz in regard to premeditation, and prophetic types
among animals, in creation ; and those of Professor Dana,
respecting unity of plan in the successive formations ; togeth*
er with the light reflected by the researches of Hugh Miller
upon the general subject, — are all quite to the purpose, and

382 bushnell's nature and the supebnatural. [April,

very instructive. As God foresaw the wickedness of man, it
was as mach his wisdom to anticipate it in creation, as it is
the wisdom of the statesman who plants a colony to antici-
pate crime by building a prison. And it would be only car>
rying out the great principle of unity, to have all the crea*
tures that precede man fit types of the race they anticipate
and herald into the world. In this view, while we cannot
help smiling at the thought in the following passage, its truth-
fulness is anything but flattering to our vanity : —

^* When the mammoth stalks abroad as the gigantic lord of the new
creation, the serpent creeps oat with him, on his belly, with his bag of
poison hid under the roots of his feeble teeth, spinning out three or four
hundred lengths of vertebrse, and having his four rudimental legs
blanketed under his skin ; a mean, abortive creature, whom the angij
motherhood of nature would not go on to finish, but shook from her ]iq>
before the legs were done, muttering ominously, ^ Cursed art thou for
man's sake above all cattle ; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt
thou eat, all the days of thy life,' — powerful type of man, the poison of
his sin, the degradation of his beauty under it ; the possible abortion of
his noble capacities and divine instincts I" — p. 208.

In arguing against those who disclaim all supernatural aid
in restoration from sin, the author commits the common fault
of ardent minds in overshooting his mark : —

'< Do wc then affirm, it will be asked, the absolute inability of a man
to do and become what b right before God ? That is the Christian
doctrine, and there is none that is more obviously true." — p. 237.

The term " absolute," correctly used, excludes all ability
whatever, whether natural or moral. Now observe how the
author contradicts himself: —

*^ To will may be present, but how to perform, it may be difficult to
find, — difficult, that is, when simply acting in and upon ourselves ;
never difficult, never possible to fail in doing, when acting before and
toward a Divine Helper, trustfully appealed to. And this is the power
of the will as regards our moral recovery. It may so offisr itself and tho
subordinate capacities to God, that God shall have the whole man open
to his dominion." — p. 240.

The author here admits that the will may so offer itself, or
rather, as he means to say, that the man may so give himself
to God, as to become what is right before him. His denial

1859.]

U'& NATURE AND THK St

383

uEnd admission involve also a hnsieron proterotu As a matter
Fof fact, au impenitent sinner does not thus submit himself to
God, except as he is gracioosly inclined ; not because he can-
Lnot, as the author admits, but because he will not; and the
grace by which he becomes willing is the very grace of regen-
eration. All that takes place in him after this is the progres-
sive work of sanctification or growth in the Christian life.

The entire chapter on the character of Jesus is excellent
Mr. Parker on this subject draws largely from Hennel and
Strauss, but goes quite beyond them in imputing to Jesus
imperfections, and even sins.* The character of Jesas has
been the theme of many able writers. It is the most con*
vincing and subduing of all testimonies, and that without
which any other, even that of miracles, would be in vain. Dr*
Channing, and since him Dr. Young, have portrayed it with
singular felicity; but the present author has given to the pic-
ture some additional touches of a masterly pencil.

The chapter on miracles does not exhaust the subjectj and
is mainly designed to meet the question of their possibility
and reasonableness. We understand by a miracle no violence
to the laws of nature, but simply such extraordinary use of
them, for certain benevolent and religious ends, as the God of
nature and of grace may see best to make. We have, then,
only to admit the existence of a personal God, such as Chris-
tianity reveals, to be convinced, not only of the possibility, but
of the probability of such events.

" To create a scheme called nature, and retire to see it run, is itself a
iniracle, and we may just as well suppose that he continues to work,
as that he so began. He has either never done anythifig, or else
he may do something now. There is no way to escape the faith of
miraclas, and hold the faith of a personal God and Creator. It ia only
pantheism, or, what is not far difFercnt, atheism, that can rationally and
consistently maintaun the impoasibility of miracles. Any religion too
absolute to allow the faith of miracles, is a religion whose Grod never
did anything, and Is therefore no God.** — p. 350.

There are two classes of persons who discard miracles ; —
absoluHsis, who claim that miracles are impotent to teach or

384 fiUSHNELL'S NATURE AND THE SUPEBNATURAL. [Apiil|

enforce essential truth, which is seen in its own light by the
intuitions of reason ; and pantheists and dtheists^ who claim
that there is no God but nature, that miracles are out of
nature, and therefore out of God, and impossible. But when
it is shown that there is a personal God, over and above all
nature, who uses nature for his own ends, and may choose to
reveal himself in special manifestations as the God of nature
and of grace, for the furtherance of these ends, all such ob-
jections are seen at once to be futile.

To all that our author claims respecting the direct gracious
manifestations of God to the souls of men, and to the sore
witness within them of his presence and love, as in the case of
illustrious men on both profane and sacred record, we fully
assent ; but we cannot go so far as he does in saying, ^< AU
that we know of God and divine things, we know by stretch-
ing upward and away from nature." We do certainly learn
much of God durectly in and through nature, apart from the
Gospel and from all supernatural revelations. We cannot
assign to natural theology so low a place as our author does,
and as others of similar mental habits are now disposed to do.
There will be a reaction from all this, and the invincible ar-
guments of Paley and of Chalmers will be again deemed of
impregnable validity and inestimable worth. Indeed, our
author himself seems to be aware that his method, pursued
by men of ardent temper, may lead to fanaticism and de-
lusion. It certainly will, unless, while we thankfully receive
the revelation made by the Gospel, we also receive that made
by nature, and cautiously ascend in the exacting steps of
inductive logic through nature to God. We must not set
aside the one revelation to exalt the other; each is alike
important in its place, and for its end. The assertion that
nature reveals nothing but the phenomenal, and therefore
nothing of God, originating in the speculations of some Ger-
man philosopliers, and culminating in Comte, will be seen
and acknowledged to be unphilosophical and false. Nature
itself is a phenomenon, or rather a great system of phe-
nomena, as truly so as supernatural revelations; and just as
we cognize a man by the phenomena which he creates, so
we cognize God by the phenomena which he creates. Our

BDSHNELL's KATIRE AND THE SUPEBNATURAL, 386

author seems to think that the world is again in need of mir-
acles : —

** Let him now hreiik forth in niiTirl« and holj gifts, let it be seen
that he is still the living God, in the midst of his dead [leople, and they
will be quickened to a resurrection by the sight. Now they see that
God can do something still, and has his liberty." — p, 453,

We should be sorry to see such a notion prevail. Any
such manifestations, made or expected, would tend to fanatical
delusions, and the labor once perfectly performed must then be
gone over again, to " try the spirits whether they are of God."
What is now needed is, not miracles to attest the truth, but
the gmcious inlluence of the Divine Spirit to induce all to
obey it. Our author says : —

** Christianity, it k true, is, in some sense, a complete organization, a
work done, that wants nothing added to finish it j hut it does not follow
that the canon of Scripture is closed ; that is a naked and violent
assumption, supported by no word of Scripture, and justified by no in-
ference from the complete organization of the Gospel," — p. 447,

We trust it will be a long time before Christians generally
will agree to this. The great struggle of Christianity has
ever been not so much with naturalists as with those who
misdirect or pervert their religious instincts, by looking for
other and more convincing demonstrations, instead of obeying
the truth already revealed. Our author, in pointing out the
distinction between his own views and those of Mr. Parker,
says : —

'* Mr, Parker takes up the admission, so frequently and gratuitously
made, that miracles and all supernatural gifls have been discontinued,
and are now no longer credible, aad presses the iDference, that, being
now incredible, they never were any less so."^ — pp. 500, 50L

But how could Mr. Parker hold that miracles have been
discontinuedj unless he also holds, with us, that they have for*
merly been wrought ? What never was, cannot cease to be.

The facts which Dr. Bushnell introduces, having something
of the marvellous air of modern miracles, are interesting and
instructive for some purposes; but for establishing the doc-
trine of renewed miraculous manifestations, like those which
sealed the truth of Christianity, they are irrelevant and with*

VOL. LXXXVIII, NO. 183. 33

386 bushnell's nature and the supernatural. [Aprlly

out effect The argument for the Christian miracles, both
from the character and teachings of Christ and from historic
evidence, is conclusive without them ; and if it were not so,
such facts as these could not help it We are thoroughly con-
vinced and satisfied, so far as miracles can serve us ; what we
now want is only the willing and obedient mind, assured as
we are, that, " when the world that ought to be repenting is
taken up with staring, the sobriety of faith is lost in the gos-
sip of credulity." But while thus earnestly repudiating all
notions of modern miracles, in the Scriptural sense, we would
with no less earnestness affirm, that larger and yet larger gifts
of gracious divine influence are to be sought and realized ; and
we insert the following beautiful passage, as fully expressing
our views on this point : —

^ Such DOW are the kinds of religious exercises and demonstrations
that are still extant, even in our own time, in certain walks of society.
In that humbler stratum of life, where the conventionality and carnal
judgments of the world have less power, there are characters blooming
in the holiest type of Christian love and beauty, who talk and pray,
and, as they think, operate apostolicaUy, as if God were all to them
that he ever was to the Church, in the days of her primitive grace.
And it is much to know that, while the higher tiers of the wise and
prudent are assuming so confidently the absolute discontinuance of
all apostolic gifls, there are yet in every age great numbers of godly
souls, and especially in the lower ranges of life, to whom the con-
ventionalities of opinion are nothing, and the walk with God every-
thing, who dare to claim an open state with him; to pray with the
same expectation, and to speak of faith in the same manner, as if they
had lived in the apostolic times. And they are not the noisy, violent
class, who delight in the bodily exercises that profit little, mistaking the
forms of passion for the revelations of God, but they ore for the most
part such as walk in silence and dwell in the shades of obscurity.
And that man has lived to little purpose, who has not learned that what
the great world pities, and its teachers disallow, even though mixed
with tokens of weakness, is many times deepest in truth, and closest to
the real sublimities of life and religion." — pp. 490, 491.

We have taken exceptions to some of the positions and
reasonings of the book before us, not from a desire to criticise it,
but to save the great truths it inculcates from being associated
with or made to rest upon anything false or uncertain. Having

1859.] LAW OP POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT IN CIVIL HISTORY. 387

done this as impartially as we could, we would now say, ear-
nestly, that we have seldom perused a book with so deep in-
terest or so much profit, and that we advise all our readers to
possess it, and to make themselves familiar with its lofty prin-
ciples, and with the benign spirit that breathes everywhere
from its pages.

Art. VI. — 1. Aristotle's Politics.

2. Plato's Republic.

3. Opere di Giovanni Battista Vico, ordinate ed illustrate
da Giuseppe Ferrari. Seconda Edizione. Milano. 1854.
6 vols. Vols, v., VI. Scie^nza Nuova.

4. II Principe^ etc. di NiccolS Machiavelli. Seconda Edi-
zione. Firenze. 1857.

5. Herder's S&mmtliche Werke. Stuttgart und Tiibingen.
1853. 40 vols. Cotta'scher Verlag. Vols. XX VII. -XXX.
Ideen zur Philosophic der Geschichte der Menschheit.

6. Fried, v. Schlegel's Sammtliche Werke. Zweite Ausgabe.
Wien. 1846. 15 vols. Vols. XIIL, XIV. Philosophic der
Geschichte.

7. Heoel's Werke. VoUstandige Ausgabe durch einen Ver-
eln von Freunden des Verewigten. Berlin. 1837. 18 vols.
Vol. IX. Vorlesunffen iiber die Philosophic der Geschichte.

8. Einleitung in die Geschichte des Neunzehnten Jahrhunderts.
Von G. G. Gervinus. Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm En-
gelmann. 1853.

It has been demonstrated, indirectly by Plato, directly by
Vico, Herder, and others, that human affairs must be gov-
erned by unalterable laws. To discover that man's history is
regulated by general principles, is to advance a step, but not to
arrive at the goal. Beyond the demonstration that the devel-
opment of humanity in time and space is according to fixed
laws, there remains the need of discovering the laws them-
selves. It is not enough to know that laws mtASt be ; we still
have to ascertain what they are.

388 PRIMABY LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMBNT [April,

Now, without stopping to examine the various systems of
the philosophy of history which have been advanced in mod-
ern times, it is sufficient for our present purpose to character-
ize them as too subjective.* The laws of history are, for the
most part, sought in the understanding, emotions, and passions
of the individual. A complete analysis of the nature of Adam,

* Vico is entitled to great credit, as the first to annoancc to the world that histoiy
is a science which has its laws. The Scienza Nttova is a veritable monumeDt of
haman genias. It matters not that the poor solitary Neapolitan wandered in the
mazes of Roman jurisprudence, that he lost himself in the labyrinth of ancient my-
thology and philology ; to him remains the glory of having seen, through the mists of
Roman absolutism and Italian theology, the idea of an organic universal history,
whose l^e eteme he strove, not without some degree of success, to announce and
demonstrate.

Herder was a poet and a preacher. He contradicts himself in calling his work
"Ideas towards k Philosophy of llhtory^*] for he not only rejects philosophy, bnt
proclaims his hatred of it. He goes on poetizing and preaching from the creation
of the world down to the hour in which he writes, uttering sublime thoughts, and is
almost always spiritual and eloquent ; but he is continually erecting himself as an
exclamation-point at the end of great periods of history, instead of giving us, in any
sense of the words, a philosophic explanation. His hook is one of the most interest-
ing produced in modem times, but Uio Ideen do not take us, philoBophically^ one step
beyond the Scienza Nuova.

Frederick Schlegel, who made his d^ut in the literary world with an Anthology
from LcRsin^^s works, and ended his career by admiring Alva and Philip II., and
proclaiming Caldcron a greater poet than Shakespeare, has written a so-called
Philosophy of History, the principles of which are the prominent dogmas of the
Romish theology. Bossuct's Discours is far more elocjucnt, much loftier in tone
of thought, and, as an historical exposition of the Augustinian doctrine of the Di-
vine sovereignty, has a deeper philosophic interest ; while it exhibits a power of his-
torical generalization incomparably superior.

Hegel, the ablest thinker of Germany, and the most consistent of men, has applied
the principles of his philosophy to an interpretation of universal history. We have
not space to make an exposition of his system. The lofjos of Nature, of the Soul,
of Right, of Art, etc., is, with him, also the logos of History. *• Der einzige Ge-
danke," he says, "der die Philosophic mitbringt, ist uber der einfache Gcdanke,
dass die Vernunft die Welt beherrsche, dass es also auch in der Wcltgeschichte ver-
niinftig gcgangen sey."

Fichte, who doubted his own philosophy so little that he was willing to stake the
salvation of his soul upon its truth, although it left him in doubt of his own exist-
ence, did not hesitate to apply his principles to history. With thoroughgoing sub-
jectivity, he declared that we find nothing in history except what we bring to it
" Wir werdcn in der ganzen Weltgcschichte nie Etwos finden, was wir nicht selbst
erst hineinlcgten."

Thus each philosopher, all the way down to Mr. Lewes, applies his principles to
the interpretation of history. Whot we now especially need is a deduction of laws
from facts. An induction of systems, to which facts are made to bend, has ceased to
be of utilitv.

1859.]

I
*

it is somi^times supposed^ would give us all the principles of
the world^s history. Such a view is partial, therefore false.
Without individual thoughts, eniotions, passions, there w^ould
be no history ; yet these are not history. Without oak and
iron there would be do ships; yet oak and iron are not ships*
What should we say of a naval architect who sought the best
method of ship-building by investigating the elementary na-
ture of iron, and subjecting acorns to chemical analysis ? Such,
however, has been the process of many who have elaborated
philosophies of history. Our race is an organic whole- The
principles of its history must be sought, not merely in the
nature of the individual, but also in the action of society.
The organic growth, or development, of the race is slow, yet
regular. Every faculty of man points to a social, as well a»
individual existence. Each man is a unit, and, at the same
time, a part of a greater unit, of a whole. The essential laws
of history, then, must be the laws of human relations. The
world is a stage upon which is exhibited, not only individual,
but also national life, Man worships, for example, and, as a
worshipping being, is an object of interest, for the element of
reverence is common to us all ; but the religious history of the
race would be summed up in those two words, unless each
one as a worshipper existed in relations of help or hinderance
with his fellow-men. We also exist in organic connection
with the race by relations of time and space, as well as by
community of activities. In order, therefore, to find a fertile
principle of history, we must search in facts for their governing
and vivifying laws.

Without pursuing this inquiry in the abstract, we here pro-
pose to take an ascertained law, and trace it rapidly through
the history of every civilized nation. It w^ill reveal a principle
of the deepest interest, and from it may be deduced political^
lessons of the greatest importance.

The law which we propose to exemplify is this. At the
beginning of a nation, in the nature of things, liberty is en-
joyed by one man alone ; as the nation progresses, liberty is
usurped by the few ; when the nation ripens, liberty becomes
the possession of the many ; when it decays, liberty passes from
the many to the few, finally from the few to one again. Thia
33'

390 PRDiART LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

law holds good, not only with individual nations, but with
groups of nations, like the Grecian states in antiquity, and the
kingdoms of modern Europe. It is also true, as far as we
may judge, of the race.* This law has not been discovered
by those who have devoted themselves to the philosophy of
history, but by the two sharpest observers of men that the
world has ever seen. Aristotle states it generally, not for-
mally ; that is, without definition and limitation. Machiavelli
saw it, although not in its completeness, and made it the
principle of his political action ; — it aflfords the only key to
his misunderstood character. We have no means of judg-
ing whether Machiavelli found the law in Aristotle. It has
been re-stated by Professor G. G. Gervinus of Heidelberg,
and by him applied to the interpretation of strictly modem
history.f

The earliest rulers of Greece were patriarchal monaicbs.
The divinity that hedged them was the firm popular belief in
their descent from the gods. They were at the same time
priests, judges, and military chiefs. The liberty and power of
the kings were limited only by the natural conditions of all
rule. No constitutions, either written or traditional, recog-
nized or guarded the rights of the people. But there, as ev-
erywhere, monarchs were unable to govern without the execu-
tive aid of others. Hence they appeared in the field and court
surrounded by chiefs. In those chiefs we recognize the germ
of a new force. Already in Homer we see the king limited
in his power by turbulent nobles. Cavalry was of paramount

* Hegel sajs that the Kast has never known any other political law than that of
freedom for one ; that in Greece and at Rome freedom was regarded as the prinlege
of the few ; while the modem, essentially Teutonic idea is that all are free. ** Der
Orient waste und weiss nur, dass einer Jfrei li/, die Gricchische and romische Welt,
dass eini^frei tcytn^ die gcrmanische Welt weiss, dasi alle frei sind."

t Hegel understood the law but imperfectly, as Gervinus himself said in his de-
fence at Manheim, when arraigned by the government of Baden for the treason con-
tained in his " Introduction to the History of the Nineteenth Century." The follow-
ing is Hegel's very faulty statement of it : " Die crste Form, die wir daher in der
Weltgeschichte sehcn, ist der Ikspotismm^ die zweito ist die Dcmokratic und Aruio-
kratiet die drittc ist die Monarchie,^*

Gervinus himself applies the law only in a general way, and often wanders in
tracing the connection of events. He locks what M. Guizot is pre-eminently a i
l^r of^ _ historical concatenation.

391

importance in the earliest warfare of Greece ; none but no*
blcs could afford a horse; hence the influence of the knights
gradually increased, and authority glided slowly away from
the monarch. At length, in all the Grecian states, kings
were superseded, really or virtually, by aristocracies ; — liberty
passed from the one to the few-
Aristocracy, like every other evil, contains within itself the
8eedd of its own death. Rivalry of families, the enervating
influence of luxury, the equipoise of fixed social position, easy
honor inherited without invigorating toil, the graceful monot-
ony of an aimless life, — these, and a thousand other things,
corrupt, weaken, and finally destroy it. In Greece, as else*
where, aristocracies were unanimous only in disregarding the
rights of those below themselves. Under their insolent rule
the people began to regret the patriarchal kings, and were
ready to assist any one who proposed to bring back the good
old times. The first indication that liberty must pass from
the few to the many, was a popular longing for the restora*
lion of monarchy. The commons desired a ruler to secure
for themselves the rights which they began to understand.
But aristocracies never give up their power without a long
struggle-
It is easy for a few nobles to unite their strength in order to
usurp the monarch's power, but the people always find it dif-
ficult to act in concert. The commonalty in Greece first ob-
tained some advantage, when it appeared that heavy-armed
foot-soldiers were more than a match for cavalry. Thence*
forward the nobility were of less importance. The services of
the lower order were required in the navy, and each one began
to feel his own consideration as an individual member of the

I state. The people, in order to obtain their newly discovered
rights, needed a leader, and found him only outside of their
own rank. The ambitious seized upon such an opportunity
for their personal aggrandizement. Hence tyrannies, which
were only temporary, and marked the prolonged transition
from aristocracy to democracy. The nobles sometimes con-
curred in the election of a despot, to further their own inter-
est, or to crush the people ; they sometimes, to reconcile their
own dissensions, chose a dictator, who retained the reins of

393 PRIMARY LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

government for a season; sometimes a crafty demagogne
seized the citadel, or obtained by stratagem a body-guard, and
thus reached the supreme power by a coup <P6iat; and some-
times the ancient king, with hereditary right, made himself
the people's champion, and broke the power of the aris-
tocracy.

The Grecian people had no previous example of a democra-
cy before their eyes. Hence they needed the tyrants as educa-
tors, no less than as leaders against aristocracies. Without
them the people could not have grown to a full conscious-
ness of their rights, the primary condition of democracy, nor
could they have overthrown the oppressive oligarchies- As a
public benefactor and political teacher, Peisistratus may be
taken as a favorable example. While the aristocratic parties
of the coast, the plains, and the highlands, were contending
with one another, he espoused the popular cause to gain his
own ends, and, after a few serious mishaps, made himself mas-
ter of the Athenian state. Although he supported his power
by mercenary troops, he endeavored to please and benefit the
people. He wisely administered existing laws ; he sent the
needy and the idle into the country to cultivate the soil ; he em-
bellished Athens with public buildings, fountains, and gardens ;
he encouraged literature in various ways ; he was the first in
Greece to collect a library, which he made free to all ; and to
him the world is indebted for the whole written text of Homer.
Peisistratus did more for the Grecian people than all the aris-
tocracies combined had ever done. He felt that to the people
he owed, indirectly at least, his power, and he was under
obligation in some way to reward them.

Tyranny in Greece, marking the transition from aristocracy
to democracy, lasted about two hundred years (B. C. 700-
600). Then followed a period of liberty, during which there
was a wonderful development of the human mind. And in
those states where man was freest, his energy and genius pro-
duced the choicest fruits.

It is not necessary here to dwell upon the downward transi-
tion from democracy to oligarchy, from oligarchy to the impe-
rial usurpation of all rights. Not long after the destruction of
Grecian liberty by the monarchs of Maccdon, Rome planted

1859.]

IN CITIL HISTORY.

393

her foot of iron upon the native land of freedom and the home
of art; and another great people was verifying, with some
modifications of time, place, and circumstance, the Bame law
of history.

Although the early kings of Rome were elected in the Com-
itia Curiata of the people, their power was supreme. Like
the first kings of Greece, they were priests and judges, as well
as military leaders. As they alone possessed the right to take
the auspices, and as, without the approbation of the gods ex-
pressed by the auspices, no public business could be transact-
ed, they st^od as absolute mediators between heaven and the
people. With the inaug^uraiio and the imperium was con*
ferred upon them supreme priestly, judicial, and military au-
thority. From them fhere was no appeal.* They were not
dependent upon the people for support, and they had, it is
probable, the appointment of all magistrates. They had the
distribution of all booty taken in war. By their call alone
could the Senate and the Comitia of the Curiaj assemble, and
only matters proposed by them could be discussed.

In Rome, the patricians, the aristocracy, were spared a long
contest with the kingly power, by the suicidal insolence of the
last king, and the timely energy of Bnitus. All the preroga-
tives of the crown passed into the hands of the nobles, after
the banishment of Lucius Tarqutnius Superbus. Although
he obtained the kingdom by murder, yet the patricians had as-
sisted him, because he was ready to abolish all the rights con-
ferred upon the people by his predecessor. The aristocracy
commenced their reign, then, with supreme power in their own
hands. All offices, civil and religious, were confined to them.
The poor plebeians, although of the same stock with the patri*
cians, had to fight and bleed for Rome, without any rights in
common with their lords. When Tarquinius Priscus had
thought partially to enfranchise the piebsy by dividing them
into three tribes, he was frustrated in his benevolent plans by
the augur, Attus Navius, a tool of the aristocracy. Servius
TulUus gave a regular organization to the commonalty, by

• >'ieU«hr, however, thinks otherwise,

394 PBIMABY LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

dividing them into tribes, with tribunes at their heads. He
divided the whole population into five classes, according to
wealth, for taxation and military service, so that the heavier
burdens might fall upon the richer. A sort of national as-
sembly, called comitiatus maximus^ was formed of the whole
body of the people ; yet the votes were so distributed that the
wealthier classes, to which the patricians belonged, decided
each question before it reached the poorer. But, as we have
said, even this commencement of liberty was overthrown by
Rome's last king, and the aristocracy began their rule with-
out any popular checks to their power. It is true that the
plebeians, on the establishment of the so-called Republic, re-
gained in form the shadowy liberty of which they had been
deprived by Tarquinius Superbus, yet they were in reality
mere clients^ and wholly without a voice in the state.

Then began in Rome the long and glorious struggle between
the people and an oppressive oligarchy. The plebeians con-
tended for equal rights and equal liberty ; the patricians, for
exclusive mastery and exclusive privileges. The plebeians ob-
tained in succession a law to prevent patricians from taking
usurious interest ; the appointment of tribunes for their pro-
tection ; the appointment of plebeian rodiles ; the right to
summon before their own Comitia Tributa those who violated
the privileges of their order; the power to make decrees, which
became binding upon the whole nation, B.C. 449; the establish-
ment of the connubium with patricians ; admission to the quces-
torship, which opened the way to the Senate ; after a long and
severe struggle, a rogation for the substitution of decemvirs for
duumvirs, — half patricians, half plebeians, — to keep the Si-
bylline books ; restoration of the consulship, on the condition
that one consul should always be of their own order ; the right
to occupy part of the ager publicus ; the censorship, pnetor-
ship, and finally the offices of pontifex and augur. The long
struggle of the commons of Rome for liberty and for etjual po-
litical rights was always conducted with temperance and he-
roic dignity. The opposition of the aristocracy was bitter and
unscrupulous. When the plebeians gained a point, the patri-
cians used every means, fair or foul, to render it nugatory. The
last secession of the people was simply to obtain the execution

1859.] IN CIVIL HI6I0RY. 395

of laws already eivactfd. A full reconciliation of the two orders
was eHected by the dictator Horteiiaius, and a struggle, which
forms for the enlightened publicist the most interesting chap-
ter of the world's history, from that moment politically ceased.

** Rome,*' says a writer in Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman An-
liquitie.4, ^* ioternally strengthened and united, entered upon the happiest
period of her history. How completely the old dlstinctjon vvjis now
forgotten, is evident from the fact that henceforth both consuls were
frequently plebeians. The government of Rome had thus gradually
changed from an oppressive oligarchy into a moderate democracy, in
which each party had its proper intiuence and Uie power of cheeking
the other, if it should venture to assume more than it could legally
claim. It was this constitution, the work of many generations, that
excited the admiration of the great statesman Poly bins,"

We have traced our law of history from kings, through
aristocracy, to democracy, at Rome, and the task has been
altogether pleasing; but now the reversed process presents
itself, and casts a shadow of doubt and sadness upon the soill.
The law which we are exemplifying predicts that oligarchy
will succeed democracy, and will itself be followed by despot-
ism. The Nobiles at Rome were the descendants of those
plebeians who had obtained access to curule magistmcies.
The** Known" (Nobiles) had no peculiar privileges that
were not enjoyed by the Ignobiles (the " Unknowai *^) ; but
ihey were bound together by name, by a common instinct of
exclusiveness, and by mutual interest, and they soon contrived
to keep in their own order (Nobilitas) the principal offices of the
state. We need not trace the history of this struggle, Rome
at length was governed by a new oligarchy. Finally we
have Cffisar, an emperor, liberty lost, long decay, the polit-
ical world lying in chaotic darkness, the shadow of death,
and the daw^n of a new era over the grave of man^s freedom
and hopes.

In the kingdoms of modern Europe we do not find a per-
fectly regular historic development. One nation has inter-
fered with another. In fact^ the states of modern times form
a group, like the states of ancient Greece, and we must look
for the manifestation of an historic law in the combined action
of them alL The new era properly begins with the downfall

306 PBIMiBT LAW Off POUTIOAL BETELOPMEKT

of the Western Empimi it isi tbarafan^ aoi
dwell upon the politiflal ocmdition of the barbftriaiw in
and Nortiiern Europe, prerionaly to the time of GhAileniagiia
With him modem history commenoes. AgaiD, as in eeriy
Greece, as in early Borne, we see lib^y oonfined to one muu
Bat we shall soon see fendal aristocracies springing vpall
over Earope, and disputingf his power with the monaioli. Im
the Ghrecian states, with a single exception, oUgaiohies sn»
ceeded the kings in form as well as reality. On the ethv
hand, in modem Europe, we shall see the kings, althongk
reduced to dependence npon the feodal lords, with a single
exception, everywhere retaining their thrones. We shall then
see them, like the Ghrecian tyrants, lending themselves as
leaders to the fendally oppressed people, to break the power
of the aristocracies. Out of such a miion of people and sov-
ereign against the oppressive power of the nobles has spmag
modern absolutism. Already the tyrant has prolonged his
rule beyond the natural period of its necessity, and modem
nations, conscious of their rights, are watching for a £svorabk
opportunity to take the reins of government into their own
hands.

The society of modem Europe is not old. It has searosly
arrived at the period of maturity. The natural cycle of histoid
ical development is not more than half fulfilled. The modem
epoch of monarchy has passed away ; aristocracy has flonp-
ished, and has been broken ; absolutism has already united and
taught the. nations ; democracy has prospectively shown itself
here and there, in Italy, in the Netherlands, in Switzerland, in
England, in France, and is now placing its fulcram in the
United States, in order to overturn the world. An era of lib-
erty is at hand, — it may begin to-morrow or a hundred years
hence, — when the regenerated nations of Europe shall take
America by the hand, and plant free institutions over the grave
of despotism.

But we are anticipating. Let us rapidly trace our histoor
cal law, in its more or less complete manifestations, throng
the modem states. If we must indulge in hopeful prophecy, onr
predictions should be the necessary consequences of solid ftots.

We naturally tum to Italy, after having followed the oonne

1859.]

IN CIVIL niSTORY-

397

of political events in ancient Rome. Mettemich has con*

tem|>tuoui^iy ^aid that the fair peninsula,

'^ Che Appennin parte
E circonda la mane el' AJpe/'

is only a geographical expres&ion. It is doubtless the sole
meaning that Italy has for her despoilers, who forget her
varied history, her great schools of art, her rich literature, and
the beautiful language which she has preserved through all
vicissitudes of national fortune. In other countries of Europe
the invasions of barbarians at length ceased ; in Italy they
still continue. The Transalpine nations stiU sing : —

*' Kenast dn das Land wo die CitroneD blUhn,
Im diinkelo Laab die Gold-Orange d gluhn ?
Dahia I dahin ! "

In Italy, then, we must look for a double historical develop*
ment j — one development local ; the other, general, and in
connection with that of European nations. As every one
knows, the first rulers were conquering barbarians. But we
Bee aristocracy very early gaining a foothold, and limiting the
power of the foreign monarehs. Already, in the time of the
Longobards, there were established thirty principalities, un-
der local rulers bearing the title of duke, count, or baron,
which gradually became hereditary. The cities of Southern
Italy had their own dukes, and at the close of the seventh cen*
tury Venice elected her first Doge. In the middle of the eighth
century, the pontiffs of Rome assumed the language and power
of sovereigns. When Charlemagne succeeded the Lombard
kings, he left the dukes in their dignities, which, if the oath of
allegiance that he required them to take remained unbroken,
were allowed to descend to their heirs. Towards the close of the
ninth century, the nobles were so powerful that they attempted to
elect an Italian king, and would doubtless have succeeded had
they not quarrelled among themselves, and had they not been
opposed by the Popes. Through the dissensions of the aristoc-
racy Italy was given over to plunder, and again became an easy
prey to a Northern conqueror. Otho "annexed" the penin-
sula to his German dominions, and made a grant of the best
lands to his own nobles. At the same time, he conferred great
privileges on the Italian cities, and thus laid the foundation

VOL. LXXXVIIK — NO. 183. 34

398 • PBIMABT LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

of local republics. Although the long contest between Borne
and the Empire, by giving rise to the contending parties of
Guelfs and Ghibelines, had greatly weakened Italy, never-
theless Frederick Barbarossa in vain crossed the Alps again
and again, and was finally obliged to confirm, by the ixeaty
of Constance, the municipal privileges of the Lombard cities.
Italy was then, for a period, nearly covered with republics.
Each important city became the seat of a local, and generally
democratic government The law of history which we are
discussing manifested its working in all of the Italian states,
just so far as their development was independent of powen
foreign to themselves. At Amalfi, the government became
by degrees popular, under the administration of a duke, and
the city, occupying a most charming location, was for a long
time the chosen seat of commerce in Southern Italy. Naples
was a republic for four hundred years, and defended herself
against the Saracens and the neighboring duchy of Benevento.
Gaeta was also a republic, governed, like Amalfi and Naples,
by an elective duke, or Doge. The three republics were cat
short in their development by the conquering Normans. Ben-
evento, the first established Lombard duchy, the antagonist
of the Southern Italian republics, clung to aristocracy, and
also fell a prey to conquerors. The states arther north passed
through a larger arc in the circle of historical development,
ere they were swept away by the tide of invasion. The free
city of Perugia struggled with the papal power and that of
the nobles, and, following the downward course from democracy
to despotism, was finally subdued by Braccio da Montona, one
of her own sons. Bologna obtained from Charles V. acknowl-
edgment of her independence, and a charter granting to her
inhabitants the choice of consuls, judges, and other magistrates.
She fell a prey to family feuds, and thus democracy ended in
oligarchy. Arezzo, the birthplace of every kind of genius,
arrived at freedom, and was swallowed up by Florence. The
same is true of Volterra. In Sienna we find almost a com-
plete development, — monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, ar-
istocracy again, then, before the last link in the chain was
added, destruction by a rival state. Early in the twelfth cen-
tury the Sicnnese threw off the yoke of Matilda. The nobles

1859.]

IN CIVXL EISTORT-

399

fioon gave way before the power of the people, and were bau-
ished. After the battle of Monte Aperto, celebrated by Dante,
many of the exiled nobles returned, and some of them became
traders. Thus was formed a new burgher aristocracy, com-
posed of the rich citizens, which undermined popular liberty.
The free city, after having bowed her neck to the yoke of Pan-
dolfo Petrucci and other tyrants, became a victim of the
Medici, who stripped her of every remnant of freedom, and
made her a slave, In Lucca and Pisa we trace the same
order of events.

Florence affords a complete example of historical develop-
ment. She began in monarchy and ended in despotism,
passing through the intermediate stages of oligarchy and de-
mocracy- Her aristocracy was the most turbulent in Italy,
cherishing in its bosom faction within faction, and showing
from time to time the double elective affinities of compound
parties. The fickle democracy was thus a long time saved
from becoming the prey of oligarchy, and the Florentine re-
public is one of the glories of Italian history. The same
course of political events shows itself at Genoa, At the com*
mencement of the tenth century she declared her independence.
Consuls were elected, and the people took part in the admin-
istration. As elsewhere in the Italian republics, contentions
arose among the aristoeratic families. One foreign master
after another was called in to settle the disputes of oligarchic
factions- The constitution of Doria saved the city from for-
eign rule for two hundred and seventy years; but the spirit
of discord only slumbered. New masters were sought, each
one of whom might have said, with Louis XL, " The Geno-
ese give themselves to me, and I give them to the Devil."
In all the prominent cities of the Lombard League, — Milan,
Brescia, Verona, Padua, Mantua, Piacenza, Modena, Pavia,
Vicenza, and others, — we find the same order of political facts,
and the same end of liberty. Not only city contended against
city, but Guelfs and Ghibelines divided each city against it-
self* Civil war did its worst, and everywhere democracy ended
in domestic tyranny.

Venice was in no way politically connected with the rest of
Italy. Her first Doge, or duke, was chosen about the close of

400 PBDiABY LAW OF POLITICAL DBYSLOPMENT [April,

the seventh centary ; and sach was his power, that he miglit
rather be called an elective monarch than the chief magistrate
of a republic. The grand council of four hundred and eighty,
chosen in 1173, laid the foundation of an oppressive oligarchy,
which ceased to exist only with the state itself. "When the
people conspired against the usurpation of the aristocracy,
then was chosen, for the punishment of treason, the famous
Council of Ten, which endured for five hundred years. The
sword cut both ways, — patricians as well as people felt the
power of such an irresponsible police. The poor old Doge,
Marino Falieri, had a beautiful young wife, and, with or with-
out cause, becoming jealous of some of the Venetian ^< bloods,''
conspired with the people against the aristocracy. Hence the
three Inquisitors of State, whose names were known only to
the Council of Ten. Such a despotism the modern worid
has not elsewhere seen. The Venetian democracy, gloriously
foretold in 1848-49, is a thing of the future.

Rome, like Venice, has remained the prey of an aristocracy.
It is true that Cola di Rienzi was chosen tribune of the peo-
ple, but in less than a year he gave way before the power of
the nobles.*

The political development of Italy must not, however, be
confounded with that of the small states into which she was
divided. Democracy was local, not general. At the same
time with the municipal republics, feudalism existed through-
out the peninsula. In the plains, near the cities, the nobles
joined their fortunes with those of the citizens, but the moan-
tains were everywhere studded with the castles of knights,
who, for the most part, maintained their allegiance to the
foreign Emperors. In the middle of the fourteenth centary,
when famine and plague had swept away more than half the
population of Italy, the condottieri^ mostly Germans, plun-
dered the country from end to end. In no European nation

* An incident, related by Nicolini, beautifully shows how the people of Rome are
still influenced by traditions of former greatness and liberty. '* In the time of oar
short republic, we were once mored to tears by seeing some Trastcverini throw off
their hats, and spontaneously, withont being told or taught, go and kiss these magi-
cal and once respected letters, S. P. A. R."

It was during the revolution of 1 848 - 49. Every day one may hear, at Home, the
Trasteverini singing, in mournful tone, Boma rum e tanto Mia che prima.

1859.1

IN CIVIL UISTOET.

401

lias feuditlism struck so deep a root as in Italy, nor lloiirrahed
so long. The old nobility was strengthened by the new, —
the descendants of popular magistrates, who broke the power
of the inedifEval republics. In fact, aristocracy was the lead-
ing political influence of Italy, considered in her unity, from
the reign of Charlemagne till the treaty of Aix-Ia-Chapclle,

During the forty-four years of peace that preceded the
invasion of the French in 1792, feudalism w^as first effectually
broken in Italy, by the rulers themselves. The Emperor
Joseph II. abolished many feudal institutions, checked the
clergy, and favored learning in that portion of the peninsula
which he governed. The Grand Dake Leopold gave to Tus-
cany the code that bears his name; and Charles IIL and his
son Ferdinand, in Naples, adopted reforms which nearly
abolished feudal rights and jurisdictions. Even in ecclesias-
tical Rome, the minor branches of administration were re-
formed, and the Jesuits banished. The despots, like the
tyrants in Greece, were overthrowing the long-standing aria*
tocracy, and preparing the way for freedom. Napoleonism in
the peninsula has awakened Italy to a consciousness of her
rights and her unity. The despots, it is true, have returned,
and are ruling with an iron hand, but the state of passive
rebellion in a people, w^hich requires such a rule, is very
clearly indicative of the future.

Thus Italy, although exhibiting here and there minor and
subordinate political developments, more perfect in form, has
just arrived at the dawn of a national democracy, having
passed from the early monarchical government, through a long
and turbulent period of aristocracy, to the gloomy despotism
whose darkness is made visible by the first faint light of a
new day of liberty. Whether t!ie democracy of Italy shall
assume the type of that of England, or that of America, she
is destined to realize her unity and her freedom.

Although the history of Germany is very complicated in ila
details, nevertheless we find in the development of the Ger-
manic people a striking and simple illustration of our great
law of history. The condition of monarchy is fulfilled under
Charlemagne, With him properly began the Holy Roman
Empire, although this name was not given to it until after*
34'

402 PRIMART LAW OF POLITICAL DEYSLOPMENT [ApfH,

ward. The imperial dignity descended to the family of
Charlemagne as a right until 888. Then, with the election
of the Emperors, commenced the long reign of aristcx^racy.
We find very early in Germanic history lay and ecclesiastiad
chiefs, — princes, dukes, counts, margraves, landgraves, barons,
archbishops, bishops, and abbots, — who laid the foundation of
small sovereign states. The Emperor was at first chosen by
all the princes, but during the interregnum from 1197 to 1272
the arch-princes, the Kurfursten^ assumed the exclusive right,
and, by uniting among themselves in the election of Charles
IV., in 1347, secured the power. The aristocracy of Oermany
made the crown of the empire dependent upon itself, vrhile it
was dependent upon the crown for nothing. It is true that
the individual members of the aristocracy were restrained by
the rules of their unity, by the conditions of their existence
as a body; but the body itself was the true sovereign of
the land. Such an oligarchy of local monarcbs destroyed
all vital unity in the Germanic people, and made the firat
nation in Europe, as an empire, the weakest While the
oligarchy of Kurfursten ruled the general state, each prince
at home was checked by the petty castellated lords, who
hunted, quarrelled, pillaged, levied black-mail, drank, blas-
phemed, kept citizens in continual fear for property and life,
and thus rendered social order an impossibility. These minor
nobles held their fiefs directly from the Emperor. For this
reason, the local sovereigns, who stood in the relation of an
oligarchy to the empire, were locally greatly limited in their
power by the free knights and barons. " From the princes
and prelates, possessed of extensive territories, down to the
free knights and barons, whose domains consisted of a castle
and a few acres of mountain and forest ground, each was a
petty monarch upon his own property, independent of all
control but the remote supremacy of the Emperor. " *

Feudalism in Germany reached its culminating point in
the fifteenth century. The characteristic weakness of every
aristocracy — internal discord — led the way to its destruc-
tion. Among the privileges conferred upon the German

* Sir Walter Scott, Preface to his tranalation of Goethe's Gikz von BerUchmgen.

IN CIVIL mSTORT.

403

barons by their constitutions was that of private warfare.
The evils attending these private wars or feuds, as the empire
advanced in civilization, became fearfully conspicuous: —

^ Each petty knight was by law entitled to make war upon his neigh-
bors, without any further ceremony than three daja' previous defiance
by a written form called Fehdhnejl Even tlie Golden Bull, which
remedied so many evils in the Germfimic body, left this dangerous privi-
lege iu full vigor. In time, the residence of every free baron became
a fortress, from which, as hi8 passiona or avarice dictated, sallied a band
of marauders to back his quarrel^ or to collect an extorted revenue
from the merchants who presumed to pass through his domain. At
length whole bands of these freeboottng nobles used to league together
for the purpose of mutual defence against their more powerful neigh-
bors, as likewise for that of predatory excursions against the princes,
free towns, and ecclesiastic states of the empire^ whose wealth tempted
the needy barons to exercise against them their privilege of waging pri^
vate war. These confederacies were distingiiii*!ied by various titles
expressive of their object : we find among them the Brotherhood of the
Mace, the Knights of the Bloody Sleeve, Arc, (fee, JS one of the broth-
erhood was attacked, the rest marched without delay to his assistance ;
and thus, though individually weak, the petty feudatories maintJiined
their ground against the more powerful members of the empire. Their
independence and privileges were recognized and secured to them by
many edicts ; and though bated and occasionally oppresBed by the
princes and ecclesiastic antborities, to whom in return they were a
scourge and a pest, they continued to maintain tenaciously the good old
privilege (as they termed it) of Fumtreclit^ which they had inherited
&om their fathers."

The first direct blow to feudalism in Germany was struck by
the Emperor Maximilian. By the memorable edict of August
7th, 1495, the right of private war waa abrogated. Ot hello's
occupation was gone. The ban of the empire, a sentence at
once secular and spiritual, an anathema containing the doom
of outlawTy and excommunication, to be enforced by the Im-
perial Chamber then instituted, was the terrible penalty of
any infraction of the edict. The barons were conquered, and
the spirit of feudalism was broken.

It must here be remarked, that the aristocracy in Germany,
as elsewhere in Europe, was ecclesiastical as well as secular
The people had to measure not only arms against the tern*

404 PRIMARY LAW OF POLITIOAL DEVELOPMENT [Apdl,

poral power, bat also their intelligence against that of the
spiritual power. In this respect the states of modern Europe
differ from those of ancient Greece. While various orders of
feudal nobility gradually usurped the monarch's authority and
privileges, the papal power was limited by councils, cardinals,
bishops, and the heads of various monastic orders. Secular
and ecclesiastical oligarchies alike disregarded the people's
rights, and almost always united to keep them down. Light,
however, both political and spiritual, reached the lower classes.
In the crusades, the peasant and the prince found themselves
side by side, suffering alike from privation and disease, dying
side by side by famine or in battle. The stern necessities
of a common lot for high and low, taught the survivors a les-
son of human equality. The crusades opened a highway of
commerce between the East and the West Some of the
Italian maritime cities were fortunate in already possessing
ships, and therefore reaped the first harvest of traffic ; bat,
naturally enough, a new carrying trade over the Alps was
established, and free commercial cities grew up and prospered
in Southern and Central Germany. Exchange of goods
brings with it exchange of ideas, and thus the human mind
is awakened. Besides, printing was invented, so that all
products of human intelligence could be rapidly and cheaply
multiplied. The war of the peasants in Southern Germany,
and the appearance of the Hussites in Bohemia, of the Albi-
gcnses in France, of the followers of Wickliffe in England, were
so many signs of a desire for spiritual freedom on the part of the
people. The human mind and heart have within themselves
fountains of liberty in their spontaneous thought and feeling;
for God's intellectual and moral image is stamped upon each
soul, making it a participator in the Divine freedom.

In all these ways the German people were prepared for
political and spiritual democracy. The ignorance and cupid-
ity of the priesthood so disgusted and wounded them, that they
were ready to listen to the religious assurance of any bold,
strong man, and to break their connection with the long-stand-
ing and awful power of Rome. The revival of ancient learn-
ing, after the downfall of the Byzantine empire, awakened
studious minds, furnishing the controversialist with solid shafts

1859.]

m CIVIL HISTOET.

405

of logic, and the potent satirist with polished arrows of wit*
When the intrepid monk, Martin Luther, placed himself at the
head of the spiritual democracy, the time was ripe, and then
began a work which many melancholy failures had long fore-
shadowed. The Protestant religion is a system of intellectual
and moral freedom. With its proclamation are recognized
the worth and rights of the individual. We must not^ howev-
er, look for the end in the beginning. The Reformation was
only the dawn of spiritual democracy, not its consummation.
Lutheranism in Germany took a half-monarchical form ; Cal-
vinism in Geneva, France, the Netherlands, and Scotland was
alternately democratic and aristocratic ; while the Church of
England was and has remained a religious oligarchy.

Thus with Luther and Maximilian commenced the pros-
pective democracy of Central Europe. The political aristoc-
racy received its first hea\^ blow from the first despot. Lufher
also, the leader of an antci^onistic democracy, was a tyrant in
doctrine. Despotism in Germany, where the Teutonic char-
acter has always exhibited its centrifugal force, has divided
itself, so that there are two or three dozens of tyrants, instead
of one. Nevertheless, the transition from oligarchy to de-
mocracy is there clearly marked, as in Greece, by a period of
despotism. Napoleonism has there had the same meaning as
elsewhere in Europe, Napoleon presented himself as a lead-
<?r of the ripening democracy, and the masses everywhere fol-
lowed him. He became in turn a despot, and his power
vanished, for democratic Europe left him. The vast standing
army of the Germanic states is only the body-guard of the
tyrants, to protect them from the people. The terrible, omni-
present police, is but an organized band of political spies, to
watch for the first signs of a gathering storm of democmcy.
The easy overthrow of the despots in 1848-49 shows the might
of a democracy which is growing wiser as well as stronger.
The intellectual freedom of Germany exhibits itself, in the
mean time, in her rich literature. A distinguished American
essayist has said that a German could philosophize the soul
out of man and God out of the universe, but he must not say
a word against the house of Hapsburg. This is perfectly true,
but the fear felt by the house of Hapsburg quite as closely in-

406 PRIMABT LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

dicates the free spirit of the Germans, as the entire statement
illustrates their liberty of philosophic speech. For Germany
there is a near future of political unity and fireedom, or history
is but a deceptive and irregular succession of events, and not
the methodical teaching of God's providence.

In France, Charlemagne again fulfils the condition of mon-
archy. With him begins the modern cycle of political devel-
opment, and the first organized national society. After hid
death, Louis Ic Ddbonnaire, the least capable of his sons, was
wholly unable to govern France. Feudal aristocracy, there-
fore, speedily developed itself without royal hinderance. Per-
haps for this very reason France has taken the lead of all the
Continental nations in political growth. In the midst of social
chaos a new order swiftly shaped itself, that of the great
feudal lords, who were indocile and turbulent towards the
noihinal king and oppressive towards the vassals. Under
such an oligarchy industry was everywhere paralyzed by the
most odious exactions ; justice was outraged by laws that
mocked human nature ; legislative, executive, and judicial
power was in the hands of ignorant men, governed only by
interest or caprice. In the people, however, who suffered in
silence, — whose declaration of independence St Csesarius, an-
ticipating ten centuries, pronounced in the memorable words,
Men arc the serfs of God aloncj — was the source of a new
power, to which the king appealed against the nobles. Under
Louis le Gros, the commons, the origin of the bourgeoisie^ ap-
peared in a struggle with the feudal lords. King and people
were oppressed by a brutal aristocracy, and very willingly lent
each other aid in a struggle for rights and privileges. The
inhabitants of larger towns, and the middle class, united with
the sovereign, and oligarchy received its first check. The
communal revolution of the twelfth century was the real
commencement of the great revolution of 1789.

France was much in advance of Italy, Spain, Germany,
Flanders, and England, in the first efficient steps towards
national liberty. She had already taken the lead in the cru-
sades, and had reaped the earliest harvest of glory from Orien-
tal battle-fields. She had proclaimed her free thought in vig-
orous philosophic discussion and trenchant theological contro-

1859.1

IN CIVIL BISTORT.

407

versy. The commons of France were united in a consolidated
Tiers Eialy while the citizens of the free cities of Italy were
devouring one another in civil war.

St. Louis, at once warrior, statesman, and Christian, main-
tained peace among the great feudal seigniors, the nobles, and
the bourgeoisi€j so that, under him, the kingdom of France
was established in its integrity ; there was thenceforth no
danger of its being divided, like Germany, into petty king-
doms. The power of the kings, being thus united with that
of the commons, gradually increased, until it became absolute
over all classes. We may say, in general terms, that the French
kings, from Philip Augustus to Louis XL, struggled for the
maintenance of their power ; from Louis XI. to Louis XIV,,
to become the ministers of their own power. The first period
was that of oligarchy ; the second, that of increasing despot-
ism. The aristocracy yielded little by little, obstinately con-
testing every inch of ground, until it made its final effort in
the Fronde. The Grand Monarque, firmly seated upon the
throne of St. Louis, beholding the proudest nobles reduced to
royal vassals, and feeling no gratitude or obligation to the
commons who had been used by successive kings as the instru-
ment for gaining such power, could say without exaggeration
that he was the slate*

** Louis XJ V.,** says IMignet, ** kept the springs of absolute monarchy
too long in tension, and used them too violently. Irritated by tlie troubles
of his youth, enamored of rule, he broke all resistance, interdicted aU
opposition; — that of the ari-stocracy, which was employed in revolts, —
that of the Parliament, which was employed in remonstrances, — that of
Protestants, which was shown by a liberty of conscience which the Church
regarded as heretical, and royalty as factious, Louis XIV. subjected
the great by calling them to court, where they received in pleasures and
favors the price of their independence. The Parliament, which had
hitherto been ihe instrument of the crown, wished to become its coun-
terpoise, and the prince haughtily imposed upon it a submission and
silence of sixty years. Finally, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
was the completion of that work of despotism. An arbitrary govern-
ment not only desires not to be resisted, but also to be approved and
imitated. After having brought conduct into subjection, he persecuted
conscience, and when political antagonists failed, he sought his victims
HfDong i*eligiou:5 dissenter^!, Louis XIY* was occupied at home against

408 PRIMABT LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

heretics ; abroad, agiunst Europe. Oppressioii found ambitiooa oaen ai
counsellors, dragoons as servants, success as an enoouragement ; the
plagues of France were covered with laurels, and her groans were
stifled bj the chants of victory. But at length men of genius died,
victories ceased, industry emigrated, money disappeared, and it was
clearly seen how despotism exhausts its means by its success, and de-
vours its future in advance." — Histoire de la RevohUian .FVangaiti^
Vol. I. p. 9.

Every one kftows with what minor variations in form despo^
ism continued until the dawn of the Revolution. In the mean
time, the people, although ignored by the kings whom they
had aided in gaining absolute power, and oppressed by uneqnd
taxation, received light from various quarters, and became
animated with the spirit of liberty. The contest in France
was first literary and religious, then political. ^< L'anit6 da
dix-huiti^me sidcle," says Michelet,* " est dans la preparation
dc ce grand 6venement [revolution] : d'abord la guerre litt^
rairo et la guerre reiigieuse, puis la grand et sanglante bataille
de la liberte politique." Mental freedom in France took a
philosophic and literary, rather than a religious direction.
Beholding, on the one hand, the injustice, corruption, and de>
bauehery of the court, and, on the other, the bloody persecution
of dissenters, the French people gave themselves up to the
guidance of the new priests of Reason, who flooded ^Europe
with every species of literature. What Gervinus says too
exclusively of Rousseau, we may apply, with some limitations,
to the general philosophic and literary spirit of France.

" He preached entire freedom, and experience had no weight with
him compared with the demands of reason for the management of the
state. And he preached this to all, and in a manner adapted to the
general comprehension, by an open attack on every existing institoti(ML
He traced the root of the evil in the submission to tyranny in the pres-
ent day, and not in the remains of the feudal system. He abused
Saumaise and Grotius, who had systematized despotism, and he opposed
the most exaggerated rights of man to their theories on slavery and
our animal nature. He derided, on a political ground, Luther^s doctrine
of passive obedience, and that God in his wrath will punish wicked
kings. If we must obey a bad ruler, there is so much the more reason
that we should select a good one ; it is well for a i)eople to submit to a

♦ Pricit de i* Histoire dc Franct^ ch. 23

1859;

IN CIVIL HISTORY*

409

power felninger than tbemselvca, but it h better, when lliey have
strength, to shake it oiW In these aphorisms spake the Calvinism of
Geneva. A political revolution, as ivell rs a religious reformation, was
destined to be preached from this refuge of the free spirit of France^
Old Calvinistic political doctrines lay at the foundation of Rousseau's
theories. Junius Brutus (Languet), in 1577, declared the law, that the
force of a silent natural compact among the people is greater than
the will of princes, and entilles them to enforce the government of law,
because the state is composed of the people j and not of the king. It
was thus also that John Milton declared the rights of man and of a peo-
ple to freedom, as natural and inalienable* By the Calvinistic right of
the community to interpret the religious law. and practically to demon*
6trate the political theories of legislation, the sovereignty already lay in
the people. Rousseau labored on in the same ideas. He inveighed
against the monstrous proposition, that a man should, by the chance of
birth, reign as an hereditary monarch over a nation, and that children
should rule over old men^ and the few over the many. He opposed a
natural right to the hierarchical doctrine of the state, — the legal fiction
of a social compact, to the theological invention of the divine right of
monarchs. If revelation points to monarchy, he pointed to reason and
natural right in favor of the sovereign people. He therefore hated the
^.English Constitution, which Montesquieu praised. His ideal of a form
of government was that of the early Teutonic petty democracies, which
[ actually e^Listed in Switzerland, America, and the Netherlands. The gulf
which lay between his theories and the condition of all the great states
in Europe did not disturb his convictions. He was above all considera-
tion of realities and existing relations ; for he trusted that the future
would dispense with the prer^ent, as well as with the past. What was
superannuated wrong, before the inalienable primitive rights of man ?
Rousseau thoughtlessly advised the people to make use of their physi-
cal strength to enforce their rights ; and in this lay the enormous jjower
of his doctrines. The idea of a social compact as the commencement
of a state is only a new illusion in place of the old. But if we survey
the different epochs of hi^^tory when a people politically matured could
no longer suffer an arbitrary government, every revolution ii^ a eonfinna-
tion of Rousseau's principle, and his principle is the banner of every revo-
lution* The state does not commence, but is at its acme, in the sphere
of popular rule. States originate in social compact?, but the govern-
ment of the people^ for the most part, belongs to colonies, off-shoots of
States which have arrived at maturity* The example of North America
had evidently acted upon Rousseau's views. He adopted the really

VOL. Lxxxvm. — xo. 183.

410 PRIMABT LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

exceptional circumstances of that country as a foundation for his theories,
which returned to America a rule which could be uniyersallj applied.
For Rousseau, hy a remarkable instinct, predicted the whole spirit of
the coming age, which lay brooding over the extraordinary events which
soon took place on both sides of the ocean." *-^Eirdeitting, pp. 131 - 133.
Translation, (Bohn's Series,) pp. 97, 98.

The French Revolution was the people's bloody declaration
of independence. It was the inauguration of democracy in En-
rope, and was rendered necessary by the despotisni of princes.

" It not only modified the political power," says Mignet, " it changed
the whole interior existence of the nation. The forms of mediseval
society still existed. The soil was divided into hostile provinces, men
were distributed into rival classes. The nobility had lost all its power,
although it preserved its distinctions ; the people possessed no rights,
royalty had no limits, France was delivered up to the confusion of an
arbitrary ministry, particular regimes^ and corporate privileges. For
this abusive order the Revolution substituted one more conformed to
justice and more appropriate to our times. It replaced the arbitraiy by
law, privilege by equality. It delivered men from the distinctions of
classes, the soil from tlie barriers of provinces, industry from the fetters
of corporations, agriculture from feudal subjections and tithes, property
from the restrictions of entails, and reduced everything to a single
stale, a single right, and a single people." — RivoUuion Frajn^aise, p. 9.

* Europe was not yet ripe ; the half-educated, or rather the
niiscducated people, injured their triumph by fatal excesses,
and the despots of neighboring kingdoms united to replace
th(Mr brother on the throne of France. Democracy had found
a leader of wonderful genius in Napoleon ; but, as we have
already said, when he reached supreme power, he forgot the
people, ruled for himself alone, and became a despot Again
and again the French Revolution has repeated itself, with the
same results. The nation is alive to its rights, and only yields

* Gerrinus is continually wanting in the perception of historical sequence. Hit
mind is large, generous, honest, and profoundly appreciative ; therefore he is the
best of all historians of literature, while, heing deficient in logical exactnesi of
reasoning, he often draws wrong conclusions from sound ])olitical premises. Liberty
in America was not a growth of the soil, but was established by Kuro|)ean8, mi-
grating thither from all states. American freedom was not n result of local circam-
stances, but the ripening of a fruit that began growing in Europe with the earliest
struggles for politiciil and religions independence. But we are anticipating.

1859.]

IN CIVIL HISTOKT,

411

from time to time to necessity* Each uew leader mus the
people, and, with tlie army at his back, re-establishes the tyran-
ny* The present despot has betrayed all trusts, and rules an
outraged nation with the sword* The mouth of republican
France is gagged, a cannon is pointed at her breast, a politi-
cal spy stares her impudently in the face, while she silentJy
mourns over hope deferred.*

It is not necessary to dwell long upon the coiidtitutional
history of Spahii in order to find a new confirmation of our
historical principle* The peninsula beyond the Pyrenees has
been the battle-ground of epochs, civilizations, and religions ;
yet we find there in modern times a perfectly regular political
development. Owing to a variety of circumstances, the early
monarchy of Spain was divided, thus to speak, into several
local branches, like the existing despotism in Germany,
Feudalism there took root early, and the great lords soon be-
came the real masters of the different states. When Aragon
and Castile were united by the fortunate marriage of Ferdi-
nand and Isabella, the nobles in both kingdoms, insolent and
rapacious as elsewhere, not only treated the* sovereign as a
plaything, but ruled the people without the least regard to
natural human right. The commons of Spain, how^ever, had
long time appeared in the background. They had already
made their voice heard in the Cortes, and were quite ready
to support the throne in an effort to break <lie power of the
haughty nobles. Ferdinand and Isabella appeared upon the
stage of history at the same time with Louis XL of France
and Henry VIL of England, and, like them, resolved to
free the throne from its dependence upon an inesponsible

♦ We *' assisted," not many months iigo, at a rcpre^ritatioti of BcaomarchaiA's
Figaro, in the Jltfatre Frafn^ais^ At Paris. In the third scene of the fifth act. Figaro
att«r9 hifD^elf as follows: **I am told that in Madrid [Paris] has be«Q established
A system of liberty in the sale of products, which extends even to those of the
press ; and that, provided I say nothing in my writings of the aathoritjt Bothing of
worships noiliing of politics, nothing of ethics, ^othing of people in plaee, oothtBg
of bodies in credit, nothing of the opera, nothing of other 5howi» nothing of any-
body that pertains to aQytliing, I can print everything freely, under tho inspection
of two or three ceneors/^ The applause wa$ carried to the pitch of madneM. The
scene revealed the condition and feeling of France. Every one nnderstood why he
applauded, while be would not hare dared to eatpress it hi words eveo to Uia neiir*
eat friend. The apptaufie, too, was unanimona, n^ well as intense.

412 PRIMARY LAW OF POLITICAL DEVHLOPMEXT [April,

oligarchy. The integrity of Isabella, joined with the princely
craft of Ferdinand, made them much abler than the neigh-
boring sovereigns, and under their skilful bands the work of
humbling the proud Spanish grandees went on apace. It is
not necessary here to dwell upon the means of their rapid and
complete success. The revenue of Castile was increased by
Isabella thirty-fold, without any burdensome exactions, and
Ferdinand raised himself, from one of the weakest princes in
Europe, to the rank of the most celebrated.*

Spanish despotism began with Ferdinand, and culminated
with Philip II., when it threatened to inundate all Europe.
The tide was turned back by democracy in the Netherlands;
the spirit of Romanic unity was broken for ever, and Teutonic
Protestantism, with its expansive liberalizing and civilizing
power, was saved. Since then, Spain, for the most part, has
followed the political fortunes of France. The old national
spirit is not dead, the Spanish peasantry is the finest in
Europe, commerce is reviving, industry is awakening, and the
people, united in misfortunes, made wiser and more prudent
by unsuccessful revolutions, look with firm faith to a future of
liberty. Spain has been carefully watched and guarded by
the consolidated despotism of Europe, her people have been
crushed by venal military leaders, and insulted by a de-
bauched court ; but, when the dawn of freedom comes, she
will not be foniiH wanting.

It would be very easy to trace the same order of political
events in Portugal ; but the history of that once glorious na-
tion is so intimately connected with Spanish history, that we

* "Even a republican statesman like Machiavclli," writes (toninns, (asin^, for
the most part, MachiavcUi's words,) "could not be blind to the extraordinary ad-
vantages to the people and to the state which grew out of the absolutism of the
prince. lie looked beyond the means, to tlic objeet attained by them, —beyond the
one evil, to the general wellare ; and he divined the spirit of modem history, when,
prophesying over its cradle, he clothed the historical cxj)erienco of past ages in the
words of an austere tlicory, — that, ^o found a new onler of the state on the ruins
of the deceased forms of government of the Mi«ldlc Ages, the unlimited authority
of one individual became a necessity, and even a benefit, supposing its existence to
be only temporary : it would then be a preparation for the government of law, aud
a school for freedom." AVe have nowhere else seen even an approacli to a ri^jht
appreciation of Machiavelli. AVe hope erelong to enter into a new and thorough
discussion of the great Florentine statesman's political principles.

185a]

IN CIVIL BISTORT.

413

could bardly regard 8uch an exam pie as an independent
illatjtration of the law under discussion.*

In Switzerland we find a striking exemplification of the
same law, although there the transition from monarchy to
oligarchy took place without the retention of a nominal
sovereign, and that from aristocracy to democracy without
the intervention of a despot Nowhere in Europe has there
been a political development so completely normal* Swit-
zerland was part of the Prankish empire, that is, of a monar-
chy. In 1032, it was united to the German empire. It was
then divided into a multitude of petty fiefs, whose possessors
were vassals of the Emperor ; and this was the beginning of
aristocracy. The administration of aflairs was confided to
the dukes of Zahringen, who w^ere real benefactors of the
country. In 1218, that line became extinct, and the country
passed into the hands of a factious aristocracy. In 1308, the
cantons of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwalden threw ofl' the
yoke of the Emperor, and formed the nucleus of the confed*
eration. The revolution under Tell was the beginning of
national independence, but not of democracy, Maximilian
undertook to reconquer the Swiss, but failed, and was obliged
to sign the treaty of Basle (A, D* 1499), by which he re-
nounced his pretensions. In the first half of the sixteenth
century political dissensions arose, and the Reformation di-
vided Switzerland against herself. At this epoch we mark
the dawn of civil and religious liberty. During the whole of
the intermediate period, that is, from 1308, the government had
been in the hands of an unrestrained oligarchy. The people,
except in. a few towns, were not only without political powder,
but often sorely oppressed by the nobles. Democracy only
showed itself prospectively at the Reformation. The Revo-
lution of 1789 effected the first real change for the masses.
The French conquered the country in 1798, and imposed
upon it a constitution, which was acquiesced in rather than

^ It is curioos to find in Camoeiis an appe&l to Lbo king against Iho opprcttioii
of the aristocracy, that lil)crty might bo esUtbUshed : —

" Snatch from the tyrant noblc^s hand the Bword^
And be the righu of human kind restored/'

CaiitoXStr. Idl.
35 •

414 FRIMART LAW OV POLITICAL DSVELOFMENT [A|lri]|

accepted. Napoleon presented the Swiss with the NouvelAcU
de MSdiation^ which was willingly received by the people and
the aristocracy. In the new times the democratic element
was increasing and taking form in the state. The neutraUty
of the country was acknowledged by the great powers in
1815. The Revolution of 1830 had its counter-stroke among
the Alps, and the democratic element gained the ascendency.
After the short and bloody contest that overthrew the Sonde^
bund, the Confederation was established upon a thoroughly
democratic basis. Since the very recent troubles in Neufchatd
have been settled, civil and religious freedom is everywhere
guaranteed in Switzerland. Thus, in the centre of Europe,
there is a constitutional and representative democracy, with
equal political liberty for all, thoroughly organized, and main-
tained by a brave and capable people. Switzerland is an
example to Europe, and an earnest of the coming time.

In the Netherlands, Charlemagne introduced feudalism.
which has everywhere determined the form of aristocracy in
modern states. Under his feeble successors, the great vassals
of the crown maintained almost an independent sovereignty.
In order to strengthen their own power, they conferred priv-
ileges upon their feudatories, and thus planted the seeds of
democracy. The clergy, by various means, fair and foul,
became a powerful and independent body. During the elev-
enth, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, the Netherlands were
divided into small dominions, whose princes acknowledged
a very limited allegiance, cither to the German Eraperor
or to the Prankish kings. The power of the oligarchy was
complete, that of the sovereign merely nominal. Among
the chiefs, the Count of Flanders was the first. This count-
ship, in 13S3, fell to the house of Burgundy. The prince of
that family, l)artly by marriages, partly by force, partly by
purchase and voluntary submission, obtained supreme au-
thority over what became the seventeen provinces of the
Netherlands. The rule of the Dukes of Burgundy was
comparatively mild, and the nobles, to secure the good-will of
tlie people, the only instrument of maintaining their power,
granted them many privileges. Thus, in the Netherlands,
democracy was called into existence by the aristocracy, to

1869.]

IN CIVIL insTony.

support them against the sovereign, while nearly «-'verywliere
else in Europe the kings joined with the people against the
turbulent nobility. Mary, daughter of Charles the Bold,
Doke of Burgundy, w^ho fell in an encounter with the Swiss,
received the Netherlands as a dowry, on her marriage with
Maximilian. Her grandson, Charles V., was therefore bora
king of the Low Countries, and of Spain. With the acces-
sion of Charles commenced despotism in that fertile and
flourishing country. He was supported by foreign troops,
and was under no necessity of appealing to the people
against the nobles, in order to gain his ends. The people
were attached to the aristocracy, and both made common
cause against the tyrant, who threatened to reduce all Europe
to Catholic and monarchical unity. The Reforraation, which
contained the spirit of mental and religious democracy, soon
spread from Germany, France, and England to the Nether*
lands. The long and bloody struggle against Philip H. for
national independence, is one of the mo,st interesting chapters
of modern history ; but we must here confine ourselves strictly
to political results. Spain and despotism failed, a modified
liberty triumphed, but democracy was not established. As
elsewhere in Europe the kings used the people to gain power,
and then ignored them, so here the aristocracy did the same
thing. The subsequent political, dissensions, and the intem-
perate quarrels of the Calvinists and Arminians, sho^v us what
a limited amount of liberty was secured. It is enough for
our present purpose to say that Belgium and Holland, whose
governments are by no means the worst on the Continent, are
simply following in the train of other European nations, The
spirit of democracy, first awakened by the great feudal lorda
of the Netherlands, has been gradually gaining strength up
to the present hour. The kings of both countries are ruling
wisely, by granting, from time to time, new privileges to their
subjects, as the spirit of the age demands. The people that
were capable of a most glorious struggle against political and
religious tyraouy in the sixteenth century, will not be found
wanting w^hen the time comes for self-government.

In the Scandinavian states, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden,
wc discern also a clear confirmation of our law ; but, inas*

416 PRIMABY LAW OF POLITICAL DBVELOPMBNT [April,

much as we do not there find any striking variations in fonn,
we pass by them, in order not to weary our readers by multi-
plying examples.

In England, we find the condition of early monarchy ful-
filled under the Anglo-Saxon, Danish, Saxon, and Norman
kings, and the one king of the house of Blois. For our
present purpose, it is not necessary to trace the origin of the
old nobility. We find the sovereigns of the house of Plan-
tagenet contending with the aristocracy for supreme power
in the state. Magna Charta, so much vaunted by the Eng-
lish, wrung by necessity from King John, and soon ignored by
him, secured liberty to the barons, clergy, and gentlemen,
rather than to the people. His successor, Henry III., was
not strong enough to cope with the aristocracy, and became a
prisoner of the twenty-four barons, at whose head was Simon
de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, and son of him who slaugh-
tered the Albigenses in France. The first appeal to the
people in England was made by this same Leicester, who
called a Parliament composed of two knights from every
shire, and deputies from boroughs hitherto regarded as too
insignificant to be allowed a share in legislation. Hencei
the House of Commons, the bulwark of British liberty, the
leading power and preponderating democratic element in the
state. Edward 11. fell a vigtim to the nobles and his own
wicked queen. Edward HI., however, a great warrior and
able statesman, not only tamed the turbulent barons, but laid
the foundation of English national prosperity.

" During this reigii," says Turner, ''our navy established its prepon-
derance over the most celebrated fleets that were then accustomed to
navigate the British Channel ; our Parliament enjoyed, in full and up-
right exorcise, those constitutional p iwers which the nation has long

learned to venerate as its best inheritance ; our manufactures and

commerce began to exhibit an afTlucncc and expansive growth, and to be
conducted on the principles of public improvement ; our clergy evinced
a disposition to emancipate themselves from the Papal despotism, and
some to exercise a just freedom of thought on the most important of al]
human concerns; the lineaments of our prose literature became distinctly
discernible ; the pursuit of the mathematical and natural sciences, and
the art of reasoning, at one or both of our venerable Universities, was

1859.] IN CIVIL HISTORY. 417

ardent and successful; our poetry assumed the attractive form with
which its life, sympathy, utility, and immortality are most surely con-
nected ; and our manners displayed a moral sentiment, which, though
somewhat fantastic, yet always pure, contributed to soften the horrors
of war, and has led to that more cultivated feeling which, continually
increasing and refining, has made Englishmen distinguished for their
generosity, magnanimity, and honor." — History of England^ Vol. II.
p. 144.

The tables were turned again during the reign of his suc-
cessor. The times were not ripe. Richard II. did not under-
stand how to use Wat Tyler and his men of Kent against
the factious aristocracy, by granting some popular privileges.
The people showed their democratic spirit, not only by march-
ing upon London rather than pay the groat tax, but also by
listening to Wickliffe's words of religious liberty. Henry IV.
was not strong enough for the nobles, and, instead of strength-
ening his hands by granting favors to the people, he persecuted
reformers, and was instrumental in disgracing the statute-books
by a law for burning heretics. The Commons exhibited the
growing spirit of English liberty by advising the king to seize
all the temporalities of the Church, and by petitioning that the
clergy should be subject to the civil tribunals. The first king
of the house of Lancaster owed his throne to popular revolt,
and was compelled to adopt popular principles. Under him
the House of Commons advanced in importance and authority.
Then followed the long War of the Roses, during which period
England was governed by an oligarchy, by nobles contending
with one another for power. When the houses of York and
Lancaster had exhausted themselves in civil war, Henry VII.,
the first Tudor, ascended the throne. With him began despot-
ism. He ruled for himself, not for his people ; thought only
of the throne, not of the nation. He neither united with the
aristocracy against the commonalty, nor with the common-
alty against the aristocracy. " He kept a straight hand on
his nobility," says Bacon, " and chose rather to advance clergy-
men and lawyers, which were more obsequious to him, but
had less interest in the people ; which made for his absolute-
ness, but not for his safety."* Under Henry VIII. despotism

* Henry YII., eighth paragraph from the end.

418 PRIMABT LAW OF POLITIOAL DEVELOPMENT [ApiOy

was at its height in England. During that bloody tyrant's
reign, the spirit of liberty was not absent, but those whose
breasts were filled with it suffered martyrdom, or remained
silent " Trepidatur a circumsedentibus, diffugiunt impruden-
tes. At, quibus altior intcUectus, resistunt defixi, et Neronem
intuentes." * The Tudors were all despots. Blood is imper-
ishably associated with the name of Mary in history. The
literary splendor of Elizabeth's reign, great as it is, cannot
make us forget the rigor of her political rule and the unhappy
end of her " sister " Mary. Liberty, however, was all the time
silently gaining strength. The despicable King James, not-
withstanding his frightfully despotic theories, was ridiculously
imbecile. " He neither gave way gracefully to the advancing
spirit of liberty, nor took vigorous measures to stop it, but re-
treated before it, with ludicrous haste, blustering and insuh-
ing as he retreated." Charles L, true to his tyrannical princi-
ples, resisted public opinion. " Hence his concessions were
delayed until it mattered not whether he resisted or yielded,
till the nation, which had long ceased to love or to trust him,
had at last also ceased to fear him." f In a long struggle with
the commons, he was stripped of most of his privileges, and
was finally required to give up the executive power. Civil
war ensued ; the commons triumphed ; the tyrant fell. The
time had not come for democracy ; the balance of power had
passed from despotism to liberty, but liberty could not drive
despotism from the field without a long struggle, and many
partial fiiilures. The revolution of Cromwell was an accident
of circumstances, rather than a settled design of the English
people." Under the Protector, freedom and Puritanism enjoyed
a signal triumi)h, for which, however, the reign of the profli-
gate and despotic Charles II. was a sad recompense. Rational
liberty struggled, with varying fortune, while the throne of
England was occupied by James II., but triumphed with Wil-
liam of Orange. From that hour to the present day the des-
potic element in the English government has been gradually
giving way to principles of universal right and justice, embod-
ied in popular reforms.

♦ Tacitus, speaking of the death of Britannicus.
t Edinl)urj;h ncviow, Vol. LIV. p. 515.

1859.]

IN CIVIL DISTORT-

419

»*The liiiu^li Uausc of Commoiii^* the representalivc of ih: liritbh
people, miiy, williout exaggeration, be termed the most importiint popu-
lar aascmblj that has ever been brought together. A larger araounl'
of money h annually submitted to its control than ever was placed at
the disposal of any other assembly ; a pojjulation is afTected by its decis-
ions greater than any other assembly could ever directly reach by legis-
lation, and a more extensive territory owns it3 legislative sway. In tlie
direction of the afl^airs of the world, and in all quarters of the globe, the
British House of Commons wields a more massive power and influence
than ever fell to the lot of a similar assembly ; and, although it cannot
in any partjctilar interfile, as a legislative assembly, with the executive
government of the empire, the principle seems to b^ established beyond
qoeation, that no executive government can continue in office in Brit-
ain, unless it have a majority of the representatives of the people in
its favor. The Commons, also, having exclusive command over the
national purse, have the constitutional power of suspending the pay-
ment of the army, navy, and all government officials, — in fact, of
arrestiug the course of administrative government altogether. The
real power of the Commona, therefore, has no assignable limit, and
consequently all great questions of policy are virtually decided in
the house of representatives " — Enc f/cIop(f dia Bniaujuca^ ArU Gov-
emmeiit.

There are still powerful monarchical and aristocratic ele-
ments in the British govern meiitj but liberty ia in the ascen-
dency, and the House of Commons and the free press are
rjuflicient guaranties for the future. Democracy, rule by the
people, not simply for the people, is the dominant principle in
the state. Thus, in England, we find the development from
patriarchal monarchy to Norman aristocracy, and from feudal
oligarchy, through the despots of the houses of Tudor and
Stuart, to modern constitutional liberty, — a most striking
illustration of the great law of history, which we have al-
ready traced through so many national forma of civilization,
both ancient and modern.

It only remains to speak of Russia and the United States
of America* The former, politically considered, is the young-
est, the latter the oldest of nations.

Russia is still an absolute monarchy. She has not yet
passed through the first phase of civilisation. The old Boy*
ards, the hereditary nobility, were crushed by Peter the Great,

420 PRIMART LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOFHJBNT [April,

and the Russian Emperor has not yet been limited in his
authority by an aristocracy. The mass of the people are still
in a state of serfdom. The monarch is at the same time
head of the state and head of the church. In him are united
two power?, as in the case of the Pope and of the German
Emperor in the Middle Age. The political development of
Russia will doubtless be hastened by the example of Western
Europe ; but at present she is the friend of despotism, and
alone upholds the tyrants against the increasing spirit of lib-
erty. The Russian nobility, old and new, the Boyards and
the civil eniphyrSj will, the course of history enables us safely
to predict, soon occupy the Emperor to such an extent, that
other European states will be left to settle their own affairs.
England and Russia will never unite again to replace an
expelled monarch upon the throne, of inevitably democratic
France. Even while we are writing this, we perceive that
the Emperor is emancipating his own serfs, and is inviting
the great Russian lords to follow his example. It is a move-
ment of the very highest importance. It clearly shows that
the time has already come when the throne feels the necessity
of supporting its own power against the ablest nobility in
Europe, by a tacit appeal to the people. We predict, without
hesitation, that this movement, which seems to be passing
almost unnoticed, will be found, after some centuries, to have
been the commencement of popular liberty in the East of
Europe. Perhaps, when the deniocracy of Western Europe
shall have given way, like that of Rome, in the downward
course of i)olitical events, to a new des])otism, liberty will find
a home in the land now overshadowed by ignorance and Mus-
covite tyranny. However these things may be, most certain
it is that Russia is the nation of the future, — politically the
youngest amongst her sisters.

Here, in the United States of America, we have the best
form of democracy that has been attained in modern times.
Our free government has not been the result of a local
development. Those who settled in the North American col-
onies brought with them from the Old World the principles
of liberty. The emigrants from England, France, Holland,
Scandinavia, and' Germany belonged, with few exceptions,

1359.]

IN CIVIL mSTORY.

421

to the advanced party in the state. They were democrats in
religion and politics. They were in the " foremost ranks of
time," imbued with principles which had taken form in the com-
munal revolutions of the Middle Age, and which had slowly
gained strength during the evolutions of society. They were,
politically speaking, the oldest Europeans, because they were
animated by the spirit of the future, the apbit of democracy.
The North American colonists, however, did not wholly
escape the influence of aristocracy. In Massachusetts was
formed, at first, a Puritanic theocracy, as intolerant as the
Papacy itself. New Amsterdam (New York) was, in the be*
ginning, a Flemish town, with a municipality but little freer
than that of Antwerp. Roger Williams established in Rhode
Island an organized toleration, because he was driven away
fifom Massachusetts by the rigid Puritans. A democracy, it
is true, was founded in Connecticut, but disfigured by a fear-
fully stringent theocratic code. Penn, a democrat in prin-
ciple, in practice an aristocrat, founded a Quaker republic in
Pennsylvania. An oligarchical element was introduced in
Virginia, w^ith an exclusive church. Maryland was at first a
feudal principality, and even at this day we find there a feeble
echo of the vanished institutions of chivalry* Carolina was
divided into eight lordships, with a landed aristocracy like that
of England. These early aristocratic forms now look frightful
to us, but we must remember that two centuries and half a
dozen generations of men have in the mean time passed away.
All the intolerance and persecution combined of the North
American colonies, during the first fifty years of their existence,
would not equal a single Spanish aitio daf4. All that we can
say of the colonists is, that they were among the best and
most liberal men of their times. Democracy, which was the
animating spirit of the great mass of emigrants, speedily
developed itself in form, because the aristocratic element
received no accession of strength from abroad, and, above all,
because monarchy, fully occupied in maintaining itself against
the growing principle of political liberty at home, left the
daring men who had crossed the sea wholly to themselves.

"The theories of freedom in church and etate,** pays Gervinus,
" taught in the schools of philosophy in Europe, were here brought into
VOL. LXXXVIIK — NO. 183, 36

422 PBIMABY LAW OF POLITIGAL DEVELOPMBNT [April,

practice in the governinent of a small commnnitj. It was prophesied
that the democratic attempts to obtain universal suffrage, a general ele^
tivc franchise, annual parliaments, entire religious freedom, and the
Miltonian right of schism, would be of short duration. But these
institutions have not only maintained themselves here, but have spread

from these petty states all over the Union They have given

laws to one quarter of the globe, and, dreaded for their moral influence,
thej stand in the background of every democratic straggle in Europe.

The Puritans, in their first emigration, brought with them, more

or less defined, the simple sketch of the edifice of their constitntioD,
and carried it more or less into practice. The last finish, after the
Declaration of Independence, was only the fulfilment of the first thought
No antiquity, no tradition, no history and experience prescribed a pko,
or fettered them to extant materials. Aristocracy and the hieraidij
were left behind them in Europe ; the royal and parliamentary govern-
ment of England was rejected. The instincts of simple nature, or
reason in its simplest consequences, apart from all existing state oigani-
zations, led to the completion o^' the new edifice in the rising state, and
they ventured, though with admirable prudence, on the great trial of
extending it over an immense region, in spite of the prophecies which,
in their small beginnings, promised them only a temporary success.

The Americans, in the first outbreak of their Revolution, indeed,

appealed to their charters and self-created institutions, and endeavored
to defend them as conceded rights ; but at the separation, they ceased

to look for justification of their rebellion, they scorned to make

a demand for rights and freedom which they claimed as natural and
universal, and acted thus as much in conformity with the earliest prin-
ciples of Protestantism, as with those of the latest theories which

France had sent into the world a short time before The American

Declaration of Independence commenced with an acknowledgment of
the natural rights of man, of which no form of government can de-
prive him The people were entitled to change or depose any

government which should deny these universal rights By the

introduction of universal suffrage, they pronounced the great demo-
cratic maxim, that the government is the legal expression of the peo-
ple's will T1m3 boast of the American Constitution is, not the

skilful administration of many difiercnt elements, but the perfect
fulfilment of a logical sequence, deduced from one single principle ; —
freedom^ or the right to pay submission to nothing but law ; and equality^

the duty of all alike to obey one and the same law We are

presented with tlic image of a society, originating from all

parts of the world, who are ready to receive any within their pale.

capable of adApting their form of govcninicnt to any people who
might wi&h to join their confederation, citizGDj» of the workt ; not one
great nation, bat a fetleral union, in which each separate State strives to
exalt lis own sovereignt j above that of the whole^ as in each State the
individual claims the greatest possible independence.* The feeling of
individuality, the characteristic of modern times and of Protestantism,
has here maintained its righta. The state exists more for the individual,
than the individual for the state ; the institutions of government are in
the service of peraonal freedom ; the independence of the man is more
important than the duties of the citizen. The widest fields upon which
the claims of man and the claims of the state have always contended,
and fttill contend, like the church, are here entirely withdrawn from
the state ; and there only remain the broad and universal principles
of legislation as a ground on which the government and the will of the
individual can dispute. The entire picture of a new state, such as had
never before been seen, lies now unrolled before us, after an interval of

seventy years Tliis new state, by its astonishing achievements in

fortune and power, has suddenly surpassed all others, and the boldest
political hazards t [ Wa^nis&e'] have succeeded, and mocked all sceptics*
Tlie government of the people, even when scattered over immeasurable
tracts of country, has shown itself to be compatible with order and
prosperity; the progressive Constitution, with the maintenance of old,
confirmed usages-, the freest exercise of religion, with piety ; the absence
'oi military power, with a warlike spirit; the enormous inci*ease of a
population thrown together by chance, with patriotism rooted in free-
dom ; the administration and government through officials and repre-
sentatives, chosen by and from among the poor, with order and economy
in the household. This prosperity, combined with a simplicity in the
Constitution which lays it open to the comprehension of the plainest
understanding, has made this state and this Constitution a model which
the most enlightened men, as well as the discontented, and the lovers of
freedom in all nations, strive to imitate. Their Beclaration of Rights,
in 177C, has beconie the creed of liberalism tluroughout the world." —
Einlcitung^ p. 93 c/ *\?^.

Frona the very fact that our form of government is the niost
completely democratic of any in the world, we are, politically,
the oldest among the nations* We are Europeans on a new
field of action. A people, not a territory, constitutes a nation.
Our age must be reckoned by the degrees of our political ad-

♦ We do not hero follow tlie English truosUtioii, which tf fe«inmgly pcrveitcd.
t The Englbb tranilAtor sajs adwMuren.

424 PRIMABT LAW OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT [April,

vancement, not by the years during which we have oocapied a
certain portion of the Western continent The American. Coo-
stitution may be traced back to the birth and sloiv growth of
the English House of Commons, to the formation of the Tiers
Etat in France, to the Reformation of Luther and the preach-
ing of Huss, to the mediaeval republics of Italy, to the glori-
ous struggle between the people and the patricians of ancient
Rome, to the eloquence of Demosthenes and the assemblies of
the free Greeks. We are not the people of the future, as is
often and thoughtlessly said ; we are most emphatically the
people of the present The fruits of modern civilization,
which are ripening elsewhere, are here already mature. What-
ever good comes to mankind from political freedom shoold
now be realized by us. The world is following us, and the
probability is that we shall lead it back, through one of the
ever-recurring cycles of time, first to oligarchy, then to mon-
archy, The American republic, with its admirable forms of
democratic liberty, may remain fifty years, or five hundred
years ; but after having completed its growth, it will follow,
either as a whole, or in broken fragments, the universal law of
decay. The vital spirit flows from form to form, in nations
as well as in individuals, in men as well as in nature.

In fact, the seeds of aristocracy are in the Constitution,
which concedes property representation to a section of the
Confederation. Such a concession was, doubtless, an exi-
gency of circumstances, but its nature is not thereby changed.
The possessors of such a peculiar political privilege are united
by interest of class, and bring to bear upon the executive,
the judiciary, and the legislature a most dangerous power.
Sad experience has taught how a chief magistrate, who is the
head of a dominant party, rather than the independent presi-
dent of the nation, may become the instrument of a half-
formed oligarchy. The justice of history, however, is exact.
If our population will give itself up to money-making, and
neglect political duties, any kind of misrule that may conse-
quently come will be fully deserved. As Plato long ago said,
the legitimate punishment for not choosing good rulers is to
be governed by bad rulers.

Thus we have passed in review the political history of the

ia59.]

IN CIVIL BISTORT,

425

whole civilized world. The primary law which Aristotle ob-
served in the development of the Grecian states, which Machi-
avelli perceived in mcdifcval European history, we find holds
good of every nation. The oldest political form is, everywhere,
monarchy. Hegel greatly errs in calling the earliest govern-
ments despotic, A despot rules a people, who under stand
their rights, against their willy for his own benefit ; he thinks
of his own liberty and his own interest, not of the interest and
liberty of his subjects ; he maintains his power by a body-
guard, like the Grecian tyrant, or by a standing army, like the
modern emperor, Now, during the first years of their exist-
ence, nations are, Kar ^^oxWi ^^ ^ ^^^^^ of political childhood ;
that is, the masses composing them are entirely unconscious of
human rights, as such, and consequently make no struggle for
a liberty of whose existence they are wholly ignorant He
who rules them may be unjust, inhuman, and barbarous, but
he cannot be called a despot. He is a monarch, in the strict-
est sense of the word, for he rules alone, and encounters no
opposition to his power. Such, as we have seen, were the
first rulers of Greece, of Rome, and of all modern European
states.

The second political phase of nations is oligarchy. The
monarch cannot live alone ; he has need of his fellow-mortals,
socially and politically. Those who approach his person be-
come, to a certain extent, participators in his liberty and power;
they find liberty sweet and power seductive, and, easily unit*
ing their strength for a common purpose, they gradually strip
the monarch of his privileges, and at length rule alone. Thus
the knights in Greece, the patricians at Rome, the great feudal
lords of modern Europe, were, during a considerable period,
masters of the state.

In the contest between the monarch and the nobles, between
the one and the few, the people, the many, are taught in vari-
ous ways their natural political rights. The multitude then
appears as a demos^ as B.plebs^ as a tiers etat^ as a commonalty,
constituting a new power in the nation. Having once become
conscious of rights, the multitude is not satisfied until those
rights are realized. Sometimes the third power, that of the
people, contends with the second, that of the aristocracy, with-
36* ■

426 PBIMABY LAW OF POLITICAL DBVELOPHBNT [Apd,

out the intervention of the first power, that of the monaicfay.
When this is the case, then there is a gradaal taranaition from
oligarchy to democracy, without the interposition of despot-
ism, as at Rome and in Switzerland. Sometimes the mon-
arch, left upon his almost powerless throne, as in Europe
during the Middle Age, or appearing as a popular leader, like
Peisistratus and others in Greece, unites with the people
against the nobles, and, when the common enemy is des^yed,
ignores his allies, and rules alone. Then the transition from
oligarchy to democracy is marked by a period of despotism,
as in Greece during the rule of the tyrants, as in Sarope dur>
ing the sway of absolutism. In our times, democracy has been
reached in the United States, in Switzerland, and, with some
important drawbacks, in England ; and, if human history be
not a fortuitous concourse of political atoms, democracy will
soon become the possession of the down-trodden Continental
nations.

Of course we do not use the terms monarchy, oligarchy, and
democracy, as we should use them in a strictly metaphysical
discussion, in an absolute sense. In fact, pure democracy,
pure aristocracy, or pure monarchy exists only in the human
mind. In actual history, we designate a certain form of gov-
ernment by one or another of these terms, according to its pre-
dominant characteristic. The three elements always co-exist ;
but the regular changes from the controlling ascendency of one
to that of another constitute the primary momentum of po-
litical history.

As we said in the beginning, our law holds good, not only
of a single nation, but also of groups of nations, that fill up an
epoch. We may infer, too, from the analogy of nations and
eras, and from the data furnished by the arc of universal his-
tory that sweeps through a few thousand years of the whole
circle of time, that the development of the race follows the
same order. An element of human progress is thus admitted.
It would be absurd to pretend that mankind will advance
without limits of time and degree. The whole analogy of
nature, to say nothing of the positive declarations of Scrip-
ture, is against such a belief. When the race arrives at ma-
turity, it will doubtless follow the universal doom of decay.

1859.]

IN CIVIL HISTORT^

427

The woriJ, like a nation, must begin in patriarchal monarchy,
pass through oligarchy to democracy, and then return to the
place of starting. The race, however, is not yet ripe, and the
vision of progress has for us something more than a shadowy
meaning. The nature of civilization is not changed; but from
century to century, from epoch to epoch, civilization reaches a
greater number. In this way only is progress made. It is an
indication of the poor quality of our thinking, that men almost
universally mistake the instruments of civilization for civili-
zation itself. Plato and St. Augustine were doubtless as
thoroughly civilized as any two men that could be found in
this luminous nineteenth century of ours, although they knew
nothing about railroads, joint-stock banks, steamboats, print*
ing-presses, or Protestant reformations. Astronomy, bot-
any, chemistry, and many other things, were unknown to
the Athenians, yet Pericles and his feUow-citizens were not
quite destitute of civilization. Perfect mental, moral, and
physical development conistitutes perfect manhood. The in-
struments which we now possess for such development are
more numerous and better than those possessed by the an-
cients. Always supposing, then, that we make as wise and
energetic use of ours as the ancients did of theirs, we must
be in advance of them. But the progress of modern times
does not so much consist in this, as in the wider distribution
of instruments. By means of printing, books are now dis-
tributed to the masses, so that the poor man, for a small part
of a single day^s wages, can summon to his fireside the blessed
Redeemer and the glorious company of the Apostles, in the
mysterious drapery of words. Every forty years a whole gen-
eration of men, forming a complete link in the chain of his-
tory, must be carried through the whole process of partial
civilization ; but the civiliiiation is becoming more complete,
more widely extended, because its instruments are constantly
improved, multiplied, and cheapened. Thus, we see, the spirit
of national progress has a democratic tendency ; for with the
extension of culture and knowledge come the desire and the
ability to rule.

Now a nation can arrive at fieedom only when a majority
of the people composing it have attained a considerable degree

428 PRDIAET LAW OF POLITIOAL DEVBLOPMBNT [April,

of mental and moral energy. A nation can maintain its frec^
dom only so long as it is in a mental and moral condition to
deserve freedom. It is an inexorable law of Providence, that
every man becomes in the hands of God the instrument of the
rewards and punishments with which he is visited. It is just
the same with a people. Nations, except sometimes for a short
period, are governed as they deserve. History, then, is not to
be arraigned at the bar of abstractions, is not to be judged bj
the ideal standards of the mind, bat accepted as a drama of
commingled human passions, wherein, from scene to scene^
from act to act, appear the decisions of Eternal Justice in re-
gard to the moral quality of man's deeds. The highest phi-
losophy, as well as the experience of history, shows us that the
only solid basis of government is the eternally true and good.
The various theories of government, founded upon the false
ethical principles that sprang up with the depraved philosophy
which wrecked the French Revolution, have given place to
sounder political doctrines, so that, with the next great demo-
cratic triumph in Europe, legislators as well as people will be
duly prepared, we hope, to gather and preserve the fruits of
victory.

It is encouraging to know that prosperity has always come
to nations with liberty. Prosperity, as well as liberty, is of
several kinds. Now liberty, of whatever kind, brings prosper-
ity of the same kind. Thus at Athens, in the time of Peri-
cles ; at Rome, during the reign of Augustus, and again when
Leo X. filled the papal chair; in France, under Louis XIV,; in
England, during the reign of Elizabeth, — there was mental
freedom, and consequently great literary prosperity. Com-
merce has always flourished wherever it has been free. When
any field of human activity is open to all comers, it is for
that very reason more fully occupied and more thoroughly
cultivated.

Omitting many pregnant questions, both of principle and
of form, which here present themselves, we will close this
long discussion by quoting a few semina fctcrnitcUis^ a few
" zopyra," — to use a term of the elder Scaliger, — from Aris-
totle's Politics, which we commend to many a man now in
high office, who, like the

1859.] IN CIVIL HISTORY.

^* Celestial saujsage-eeller,
Friend, giiardian» protector of tiB nil/

in Aristophanes, imagines himself to be a statesman, although
wholly ignorant of philosophy and history.

" He who bids the law to be supreme, makes God supreme ; but he

.who intrusts man with supreme power, gives it to a wild beast, for such

appetites sometimes make him. Passion, too, ifi^ueoces those who

' are in power, e?en the very best of men, for which reason the law is

intellect free from appetite," — Politics^ Book III* chap. 16.

** One individual, whoever he may be, will be found upon eompari-

son inferior to a whole people take i collectively. The multitude

are also less liable to corruption ; as water is from its quantity, so are
the many less liable to corruption than the few." — /d, Book III. chap. 15.

** The political state is founded, not for the purpose of men's merely
living together, but for their living as men ought" — /rf., Book Ill.chap, 9.

" A good citizen must know how to be able to command and to obey \
he ought also to know in what manner freemen ought to govern and to
be governed," — //., Book III. chap. 4.

*^ It is evident that all those governments which have the common
good in view, are rightly established and strictly just ; but that those
which have in view only tlie good of the rulers, are all founded on
wrong principles, and are widely different from what a government
ought to be ; for they are tyrannical, whereas a state is a community of
freemen." — /«/., Book ill. chap. 6.

'* The laws of evezy state will necessarily be like the state itself^ either
trifling or excellent, just or nnjusL" — Id., Book III. chap. 1 L

** It is not enough to lay down scientifically what is best, but what can
be put in practice." — 7rf., Book IV. chap. 1.

** It is not well to say that one oligarchy is better than another, but
that it is not quite so bad." — /f/., Book IV. chap. 2.

** It follows, that citizens who engage in public affairs should be men
of abilities therein." — ii, Book IV. chap. 4.

"There are three qualifications necessary for those who intend to fill
the first departments in government ; first of all, an affection for the es-
tablished constitution ; in the second place, abilities wholly equal to ilie
business of their office ; in the third, virtue and justice correspondent
to the nature of that particular state in which they ar^ placed/*^ — Id,
Book V. chap. K

430 LA PLATA, THE ABGEETTINE [Ap4

Art. VII. — La Plata^ the Argeniine Confetleratianj and Par-
agtiay. Being a Narrative of the Ea^loration of the Trih
utaries of the River La PlatOy and adjacent CautUrieSj duriwg
the Years 1853, '54, '55, and '56, under the Orders of tke
United Slates Government. By Thomas J. Page, U. S. N,
Commander of the Expedition. With Map and numerons
Engravings. New York : Harper and Brothers. 1859.

A CHARM of romance invests everything connected with
South America. There the mightiest rivers of the world roll
through forests clothed with the garlands of perpetual summer;
there the loftiest mountains of the Western hemisphere lift
their snowy summits in mockery of blooming fields and firnit-
ful solitudes; and there, too, are those fertile plains, where
herds are numbered by thousands, where the wild steed of the
pampas either riderless scours the shoreless sea of grass, or
bears the vaulting Gaucho in his fearless razzias. If that
Gaucho had poetry in his soul, he could shout forth lustily,
as he swings his bolas or lasso, the words of Pringle :

'^ 0, then, there is freedom, and joy, and pride
Afar in the desert alone to ride !
There is rapture to vault on the champing steed.
And to bound away with the eaglets speed ! "

Whether we consider the natural aspects of the country, or
the picturesque descendants of the Southern Europeans and
the aborigines, there is a fascination which is never to be
found surrounding the more prosaic nature and the less ro-
mantic people of our Northern land. Yet, with all the ad-
vantages to be derived from this glorious framework of nature,
and with all that is so interesting in the story of the Incas,
the dream of Eldorado, the curious republic of Palmares
in Brazil, the founding of cities rivalling Madrid and Se-
ville, and the wonderful Jesuit missions on the upper afila-
ents of the La Plata, it is not a little remarkable that, until
within the last dozen years, scarcely a trustworthy or reada-
ble volume has appeared in the English tongue concerning
the territory extending from the Isthmus of Panama to the
Straits of Magellan. But within the time referred to, the

1859.

CONFBDERATIOK, AXP PABAGUAT.

431

press, both in Europe and America, has been prolific in
works of great value in regard to South America. The late
Mr, Prescotl has, by his graphic pages, given to Peru an
interest and a distinction far beyond that confened by her
gigantic mountains and her beautiful flora. In quick suc-
cession there have recently issued from our press historical
works and itineraries concerning New Granada, Peru, Chili,
the Argentine Confederation, Uruguay, and Paraguay.

The work whose title we have given at the head of this
article is the result of several years' careful investigation in
the valley of the La Plata and its aiHuents. Captain Page,
of the United States Navy, commanded an " expedition/' sent
out by our government, for the purpose of exploring the
waters of the La Plata, and reporting upon their navigable
quaDties, and the resources of that portion of South America.
Captain Page, so far as circumstances permitted, performed
his exploring work well, and has laid before the world an ex-
ceedingly interesting report of his labors. His volume is most
timely. Our present relations with Paraguay, partly growing
out of the very explorations referred to, have assumed an im-
portance which renders it necessary that we should possess
exact information in respect to that country, and the origin of
our existing difficolties. " La Plata, the Argentine Confeder-
ation, and Paraguay,'* supplies tliis want

A large part of this volume is in the form of a journal,
though it has not the stiffness of a diary. The latter portion
is composed of several very entertaining and valuable histor-
ical chapters ; wherein we have, in a style befitting such sub-
jects, an account of the discovery and settlement of the La
Platan colonies, and of the wonderful achie%*ements of the
Jesuits. The history is also brought down to the present
time.

Captain Page's style is clear, always interesting, and some-
times highly graphic. We should be disposed to criticise his
arrangement, and to suggest that it would have been better to
weave history and narrative together, so that we might con-
nect past events with places and scenes ; but our author dis-
arms criticism in his Introduction, where he explains the origin
of the volume before us, and the difficulties which surrounded
its preparation.

432 LA PLATA, THE ABGENTINS l^^P^

« When," writes Captain Page, " I presented to the Secretuj rf
the Navy my * Report of the Exploration and Survey of the Biwr
La Plata and its Tributaries,' I anticipated makmg one more full and
copious at a subsequent period. The Secretary, however, expressed
himself satisfied with that document ; but I was not. I found that a
desire had been awakened for a knowledge of that country which could
not be comprised within the limits of a preliminary report. This having
been published in some of the leading journals of this countiy and of
Europe, I received many letters asking * for more detailed infonnatioa
respecting that section of South America.' But for these inquiries, I
believe I should have shrunk from the task of preparing a work kr
publication during my only hours of leisure after discharging the datiei
of ^ an office for the construction of charts of the La Plata £xpeditioo,'
and amid other interruptions of an official character. But my joonak
contained ample materials for a book, and it seemed more easy to a^
range this material into a narrative of the expedition, than to answer

the numerous letters which continued to pour in upon me

^ In presenting this volume to the public, I can claim for it no special
consideration on the ground of artistic arrangement or literary merit
For its favorable reception I rely mainly upon the importance of the
matters of which it treats." — p. xxi.

All will rejoice that, however excellent may have been his
brief " Report " to the Secretary of the Navy, Captain Page
did not share the satisfaction of that functionary, and has
given to the world this more copious account of his labors.

The Appendix contains very valuable matter for the scien*
tific reader, while some portions of it, written by the assistants
of Captain Page, will prove interesting to all. The map of
the Argentine Confederation, Uruguay, and Paraguay, is the
best that we have ever seen of this part of the world, and is
so large that it is a real pleasure to trace the expedition,
whether it be the course of the little " Water- Witch" steamer,
or the wanderings of the explorers, a cheval or in galeras, as
they roamed over the fertile pampas. The spirited engravings
also add much to the interest of the work.

The river, about which Captain Page gives us so much in-
formation, was discovered in the year 1516 by De Solis, the
great Spanish navigator. He had been instructed by the
court of Spain to follow up the discoveries of Pinson, to
whom belongs the honor of being the first European to visit

^^ how

C03^FE3)ERATION, AKD PARAGXJAT. 433

America south of the equator. The career of De Soils was,
however, prematurely cheeked by the cannibal savages, who
plew him and his attendants, and then roasted and ate their
ie« in the sight of their companions, who had fled to
heir boat. Magellan, in 1519, entered the river discovered by
De Solid, but, not finding it a straity continued his voyage
southward, and discovered the narrow entrance to the Pacific
which still bears bis name. In 1527, old Sebastian Cabot,
that Venetian-born Englishman, ascended the river in ques-
tion. He explored the Parana, and then descended it to the
Paraguay. He ascended the latter as far as the Vermejo,
where he was attacked by the Paraguay Indians. He van*
quished these savages, and received from them gold and sih^er
ornaments, which had doubtless been obtained in Peru. This
gave Cabot the idea that the river which he bad been explor-
ing was the highway to that argentine region, about which
every Spaniard who had touched the shores of America had
received the most exaggerated statements. This stream led
to fortune, and a name commensurate with its importance
must be given to it; hence it was dignified with the title Rio
de La Plata^ ox the Silver Biver. Cabot sent George Bar-
lowe, an Englishman, to Spain, to report the discoveries, to
bear specimens of the precious metal to his Catholic Majesty,
and to demand new powers. But, to the disappointment of
Barlowe and his companion Calderon, Pizarro had reached the
Spanish court before them, and had announced the discovery
of the "silver land" (Peru). Cabot, however, believed that
the river of his explorations was the nearest avenue to those
fabulously rich mines, and only the want of means, the jeal-
ousy of the conquerors, and the avarice of the merchants of
Seville and Lima, prevented his ascending higher and solving
the problem. Captain Page says that "it may be among the
developments of the nineteenth century, to prove that Cabot's
conjectures were correct. The Paraguay may yet be estab-
lished as the most direct communication between Europe and
the finest districts of the Peruvian empire." We see nothing
unreasonable in this statement; for Potosi is situated upon
and completely surrounded by branches of the Pilcomayo, the
chief affluent of the Paraguay.

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 183. 37

434 LA PLATA, THE ARQENTINB [Ap4

Not ten years elapsed before Spanish hidalgos laid the foun-
dation of Buenos Ayres, and the fortress of Asancion was
built by Ayolas, the right-hand man of the leader and general,
Don Pedro de Mendoza. Ayolas was afterwards slain while
on his way to Peru, and Mendoza having died, the Spaniards
forsook the settlement near the ocean, ascended to Asancion,
and there elected their own governor. Thus, says an old ac-
count, they were all collected together " in the form of a re-
public." The history of Paraguay here properly begins with
Yrala, as the democratic ruler of the people. * He was a roan
of mark, as the various measures of his administration demon*
strated. Treaties were made with friendly Indians, and the
hostile tribes of the Chaco were awed by wholesome castiga-
tions. Municipal laws were framed for the new city ; a church
and several substantial buildings for public use ivere erected.
Asuncion was the first, and remained for some time the most
considerable city of La Plata.

^'The Spaniards congratulated themselves upon their escape from
Buenos Ayres to Paraguay, that ' blissful country/ as Muratori calk ic,
where the climate was benign, and the aborigines more docile and dvil-
ized than those of the pampas; for the Gaarani industriously caldTSted
their land, and raised large crops of maize, cassava, and sweet potatoes,
which, with honey, fish, fowl, and wild animals, gave them abimdanoe
of food. They had also a wild cotton, from which the women wove
such light garments as were needful in that climate.

'' Some of the natives took refuge with the fiercer tribes of the Chaco,
others made fruitless attempts at resistance, and, about a year fix>m the
establishment of Asuncion, a conspiracy to massacre the whites daring
Holy Week was revealed by an Indian girl. The leaders were exe-
cuted, and from this time the neighboring tribes east of the river
resigned themselves submissively to their fate. The women became
willingly, indeed eagerly, the wives and concubines of the settlers, and
a new generation rose, asserting nature's claims on both races. The
Guarani language was generally spoken, and to this day is more gen-
erally used than Spanish in Paraguay." — pp. 456, 457.

The king of Spain was not so well pleased with this repub-
lican government in these Western wilds, and soon sent Cabeza
dc Vaca, a Spanish gentleman of valor and renown, to assume
the rule of the new colony. Yrala and his friends, however,
soon disposed of the " Adelantado of the Rio de la Plata," as

1869.]

CONFEDEEATIOX, AND PAHAQDAT.

43d

Kgri

Vaca was entitled, and sent him back to Spain. When
Yrala died, in 1557, at the ripe age of seventy, he was lament-
ed by the whole population, aboriginal and Spanish. He is
justly considered one of the ablest and raost fortunate of the
Conqni»tadores.

In 1580 the city of Buenos Ay res was again founded by
De Garay, on the site of Mendoza's former settlement.

*' Owing to the rapid increase of European population, all the country
south of the confluence of the Paraguay and the Parana was in 1G20
separated from Paraguay, and the government of the ' Rio de la Plata '
was established, with Buenos Ayres for its capital/' — p. 464.

During the intermediate period from 1580 to 1776, (to go
back to the second founding of Buenos Ayres,) the imbecile
policy of Spain towards her colonies was carried out to its

eatest extent in this smiling region of the globe. Monopolies
prevented the u e of the great water-courses, prohibitory edicts
were issued against the trade of La Plata, and the mother
country seemed to do all in her power to repress progress.

There was, however, one notable exception to the general
monotony of this portioji of Spanish America* The Order of
the Jesuits (who find a warm and able defender in Captain
Page) here experimented on a grand scale. Their kindness
to the natives was in marked contrast to the cruelties which
they suffered at the hands of the so-called Christian cavaliers
of Old Spain. The Jesuits certainly deserve our sympathy,
as well as our admiration, for their arduous labors and their
humane policy in Paraguay.

It was in the beginning of the seventeenth century that they
commenced their pious enterprise in La Plata. Paraguay

as the chief field of their wonderful system of world ly-re-
igious policy. Villages, plantations, churches, and schools
sprang up in those tropical wildt^. Vast herds were reared
amid the forests which cover the undulating lands that stretch
away from the low river-borders* The effects of systematic
industry were seen on every hand. Reading and working,
praying and dancing, chanting sublime Gregorians, and sing-
ing the merry chansons of Castile, were certainly evidences of
a contented and happy state of exii^tence. But their life was

436 LA PLATA, THE ABGKRTIHB [^P'^

not one of unbroken quiet. Battles with heathen tribes;
contests with avaricious Spaniards, who feared neither God
nor man ; and, above all, the terrible wars waged against
the " Reductions " by the Brazilians, who traversed immense
tracts of wilderness to enslave the Indians, tended to keep
both teachers and taught in a condition not to be envied, ff
ever the Roman Catholic Church can point, in the ^Westen
world, to persecutions, it must be to that wholesale cruelty
and annoyance which the Jesuit fathers on the Paraguay and
the Parana suffered from those who claimed to be their co-
religionists.

At length the severest blow was to come from the Holy
Father, for whom they had ever lifted their prayers, and
whose name they had taught the simple Guarani to lisp with
reverence and love. When the power of the Order founded
by Ignatius Loyola had alarmed the whole Roman Catholic
world, the Jesuits were driven by a decree from their quiet
inland retreat, where they had fondly supposed themselves as
firmly established as the beds of those lordly rivers which
thence swept their watery treasures to the ocean. They left
Paraguay amid the grief of their hundred thousand pupils.
The weeping Guarani stood ready to do battle for their be-
loved spiritual leaders ; but the self-abnegation which has ever
characterized the Order in its far-reaching schemes was never
more manifest than when they earnestly entreated the Indians
to lay down their arms, and to submit, without a blow, to this
forced separation from their teachers.

The settlements fell into utter decay. In four years, even,
— dating from the expulsion of the Jesuits, — the number of
cattle fell from nearly a million to a hundred and fifty thou-
sand. In seventy-five years, the Indians, who, under the Jesu-
its, numbered a hundred thousand, were reduced by cruelty
and other causes to eight thousand, and the '< Missiones" be-
came at last a wilderness as impenetrable as the forests of
Amazonia. Captain Page dwells feelingly upon the noble
efforts and the cruel expulsion of the Jesuit brethren.

In 1810 the first revolutionary movements in the La Plata
provinces began at Buenos Ayres. The Junta of that city
desired all the provinces to recognize its authority. The peo-

1859.] CONFEDERATION^ Am> PABAGUAT. 437

pie of Paraguay refused to make such an acknowledgment,
and defeated the Buenoa Ayrean army sent against them. In
1811 Paraguay formally asserted her independence of Buenos
Ayrej?, and in 1816, in company with all the Rio de la Platan
provinces, declared its separation from Spain. It was not,
however, until July, 1852, that the Argentine Confederation
acknowledged the independence of the little ** republic "
formed between the Paraguay and the Parana. Before 1816,
that republic had organized its government, w^hich consisted
of a President and four *' Assessors/* elected by a Congress.
The acting secretary of this junta of Assessors %vas one Don
Joseph Caspar Rodriguez de Francia, who in 1816 succeeded
in getting himself nominated Dictator for life. Then com-
menced that wonderful system of insulation, which has aston-
ished every one, and has elicited the admiration of a few. Of
those few is Mr, Carlyle, who seems, among his other eccen-
tricities, to worship concentrated man-power. He has written
one of his wittiest and most characteristic essays on Dr. Fran-
cia, whom he esteems the "one true man" In South American
! history. Captain Page has in a masterly manner summed up
the effects of Francia's rule.
"

^ While the other republics of La Plata were, after their emancipa-
tion from Spanish rule, distracted by anarchy, Paraguay was compara-
tively tranquil ; it was not the quiet of progress and good government,
but that of a political and social paralyzatioo prodyced by the system of
J^raneia^ — a system that debased the national mind, leaving it submis-
sive to aiiy rule, without moral or physicxU courage to resist oppression.

"lie established, in time, such a compound Bystem of espionage, —
spy placed over spy, — and coerced the simple Paraguayans dyririg bi^
twenty-six years' rule into such timorous silence, that death seems
scarcely to have released them from his thraldom. Tlie people of the
'lower coimlries of La Plata will tell you that a Paraguayan never men-
tions the name of the Bictator without looking behind liinu His adhe-
rents and the instruments of his iniquity were the soldiers; his viclira?,
landed proprietors ; but, above all, those of Spanish origin, from confis-
cations of whose property his principal revenue wa=? derived.

"Wlien at Asuncion I saw much of Senor , whose family

had suffered greatly during that reign of terror, and in his conversa-
tions with me he frequently alluded to their wrongs. He was an amia-
ble, gentlemanly, and intelligent person; but he always mentioned the
' 37'

438 LA PLATA, THB ABOXNTIinEI [Apoly

name of Franda with reserve, in a half-whiBper, glandng steakhQj
around the room, as if fearful that the grave would give op its deai
I afterward discovered that the manner was not peculiar to him, but
to all Paraguayans in alluding to the Dictator. His name is rueij
pronounced. In life he was El Supremo ; since his death, thej allude
to him and to his deeds as those of El Defunlo.*^ — pp. 125, 126.

In the city of Asuncion there is one church to ixrhich peo-
ple rarely resort A mystery hangs over it. Here it was that
Dr. Francia was buried. But one fair morning, when the
church was opened as usual for prayer, the Dictator's monu-
ment was found scattered in fragments upon the floor, and the
bones of the tyrant had disappeared for ever, — ^^ nobody cared
how, — nobody asked where. It was only whispered that the
Devil had claimed his own, body and soul."

Francia nearly exterminated the old Spaniards and the
clergy, and, though not particularly pious, arrogated to him-
self the power of the Pope. He despoiled churches, and was
wont to say of the priests, that they ^' rather tend to make these
people believe in the Devil than in God." He persecuted fo^
eigners, and his treatment of the celebrated natnralist Boo-
pland has become a matter of history. We might here say, in
passing, that one of the most interesting episodes in the su^
vey of La Plata by Captain Page is the meeting of Lieu-
tenant Murdaugh with Bonpland at the town of Restauracion,
on the river Uruguay, in the province of Corrientes. Here
they found Bonpland, at the age of eighty-two, cultivating a
plantation, and surrounded by a large family of Spanish- Ame^
ican children. He was still active, and could mount a horse
and ride from thirty-six to forty-two miles a day. The old
naturalist determined to accept Captain Page's kind invitation
to accompany the expedition up the Parana ; but the subse-
quent hinderances thrown in the way by the narrow and self-
ish policy of President Lopez prevented this much-desired
consummation. Bonpland's letter, given by Captain Page, is
eminently characteristic of the early companion of Humboldt ;
and we suppose that this is the last letter pertaining to sci-
ence ever penned by the octogenarian. In the beginning of
1858 he " slept the sleep which knows no waking," and was
buried amid those wonderful scenes which in life ever excited
his love and admiration.

CONFEDEEATION, AND PAEAGUAY,

To return from this digression, we may state that the tyran-
nical rule of Dr. Francia closed with his death in 1840. In
1841 a Paragaayan Congress assembled, and chose two Con-
suls for three years. One of these managed to obtain the su-
preme direction of the affairs of the so-called republic. This
was Don Carlos Antonio Lopez, who is at the present time
President of Paraguay,

The Argentine Confederation, which is composed of four-
teen States, — though one of them, Buenos Ayres, has been
for seven years in the position of nullification, — enjoyed bnt
little freedom after their independence. The usual revolutions,
which tore other portions of Spanish America, were the deso*
lating heritage of these fair provinces. Ambitious generals and
demagogues pillaged the country. In 1836 Rosas obtained the
supreme power, and confirmed it by a bloody tyranny, which
surpassed even that of Francia. He made war upon the little
republic of Uruguay, or the Banda Oriental. He refused to
allow the navigation of the river by vessels bound to Paraguay.
He kept in a constant ferment and fear every government that
touched the Argentine Confederation. At length in that Con-
federation the liberator of La Plata was to arise. General
Urqujza, the Governor of Entre Rios, a large proprietor, and
the very antipodc of our usual idea of a Spanish- American
ruler and diplomatist, was to be the means of the expulsion of
Rosas. Brazil formed an alliance with Paraguay, Uruguay,
and the party represented by Urquiza in the Argentine Con-
federation, all of whom were opposed to the infamous rule of
Rosas. Brazil united her regular forces to the wild but brave
troopers of Urquiza. A Brazilian fleet blockaded Buenos
Ayres In the spring of 1851. The capital of Uruguay, wliich
was besieged for nine years by Oribe, one of the tools of Rosas,
was by this movement relieved ; for Urquiza with the Argen-
tine army entered the Banda Oriental,and the siege of Monte-
video was raised. On the 2d of February, 1852, Urquiza
with his Gauchos, and Baron Caxias with the Brazilian regu-
lars, united forces, and on that day the power of Rosas, so long
the dread of South America, vanished for ever.

Urquiza is a rare man in South America, and we are not
sure that he would not be a man of great prominence in

440 L^ PLAXA, XHB ABUKnon [j|f4

Enrope or North America. For courage, modeatj, fimnknai^
upright dealing, aad natural ability, he ranks with Dom Fedn
IL, the talented Emperor of Brazil, though the fonner doa
not possess the cultivated taste and superior edacation of the
latter.

The overthrow of Rosas created a great sensation in oar
own country, and among the various governments of Enropei
Diplomatists hastened thither. The La Plata ^was dedand
free to the navigation of the world. Even I^esident Iiopa^
of Paraguay, did not seem behind the times. ^With BraiS,
France, England, Sardinia, and the United States he formed
treaties. A swarm of traders ascended the Paraguay. A
^ United States and Paraguay Navigation Company " was
formed at Providence, Rhode Island, and was represented at
Asuncion by Mr. Hopkins, who also had credentials as Con*
sul of the United States. But the noblest enterprise of all
was the expedition under the command of Lieutenant (now
Captain) Thomas J. Page, in the little United States steamer
Water- Witch. The object of this exploration has already
been described.

We have been thus somewhat minute in our historical oafr
line, because an inextricable confusion has obtained in
to many of the countries of South America.

Captain Page's volume is fiUed with the interesting details
of his surveys of rivers, bis journeys over land, his scientific
investigations, and the experience of himself and of those
under his command in this delightful, Eden-like region, among
a people hitherto little known. The origin of our difficul-
ties with the present Dictator (for we can call him by*no other
name) of Paraguay, is stated with a clearness and a force
which prove that Captain Page is as skilful in handling a pen
as in directing an expedition. We wish that we had the
space to give a full outline of the new discoveries, and of all
the explorations, which extended over a period of three years.
But, after stating that this expedition, so wisely set on foot by
our government, has already had a benign influence on Brazil
and the Argentine Confederation, we must content ourselves
with a few quotations, which can only have the effect of di-
recting the reader to one of the most instructive volumes that
have been recently issued from the American press.

1859.]

COXFEDERAHON, Am> PABAOUAY.

441

In ascending the Vermejo, (whose navigableness Captain
Page was the first to demonstrate,) we have the following
graphic and beautiful description : —

** While at anchor I went ashore, and, pa<ising through the wood* that
skirted the banks, found myself on the borders of the pampa, witli a
toondless extension of palms — those * kings among grasses * — before
me. It was a temple to the Living God, that palm forest, with its long
aisles and noble colonnades ; its symmetrical columnar trunks rising to
the height of more than seventy feet, with their feathery-foliage capi-
tals* The plain from which they sprung was unbroken by the smallest
inequaUty, except the conical structures of the ant, rising some three or
four feet in every diret'tion above the grass. Though this fair region
has a varied zoolpg}', and is llie domain of fierce, unsubjugaled nomads,
scarce the buzz of an insect was heard ; not a form of animated life
crossed ray path. Yet the whole aspect of nature was indescribably
cheerful. There were pleasant illusions, too, of picturesque villages ;
for, as we turned from the palms and followed the course of the river,
marked by its wooded belt, in the varying height of branching trees we
descried houses, pointed roofs, and miradores, so sharply defined that it
was impossible to believe them unreal. What a crowning glory the
palm forests ofier to the vegetable system of this basin of La Plata ! The
varieties seen by us in the last few montlis would furnish supplies of
nourishing farinaceous food, drink, medicine, arms, lodging, and clothing
to a vast population. We have seen them, not in patches or grove? or
park-like groupings, but in vast forests, extending many miles upon the
rivers, and inland far beyond the reach of the eye-" — p. 250.

The fotlowing account will be read with interest by all who
love nature: —

^* Wishing to see the country adjacent to the river during the rainy
season, and with the hope of adding something new to our collections, I
determined to make a little boat-cruise up the Riachuelo, a small stream
that rises in the interior, and empties into the Parana, nine miles below
Corrientes. I was fortunate in obtaining some rare birds, and in seeing
^- what alone would have repaid for a longer journey — the * Queen of
the Nympha^aceie * upon its native waters Extensive shallow lagoons,
pure and limpid, were gemmed with islands of the * Victoria Regia,' or
mail! del agna (corn of the water), as it is called in the country ; for it
is not only the queen of the floral tribes, but ministers to the necessities
of man. Its seeds, which are about the size of large buck-shot, con-
sist of a thin shell enclosing a white mealy substance. They are gath-
ered by the Corrientinos, and pounded into meal, from which they make

442 LA PLATA, PASAOrAT, SIC. [AfXllf

exceHent and notritiooB bread. I did not, perhaps, see the

' Begia' in all its glory, for the season of fall flower, Maj and Jue,
bail passed; bo: it was still bod^g and bfoomuig in saffideat

perfection to delight the eje. What infinite stndj is found

in its leaves, — those great pages of Nature's book I I never wearied in
examining their mechanism. Here, spreading over the lagooos, thej
looked as if thej would bear the weight of men, and were covered st
all times after dawn, with myriads of water-fowl, gleaning the * eon,*
unless anticipated by the natiTes.** — pp. 264^ 265.

This work abounds in charming descriptions of nature, and
of the people. We wish that we could transfer to oar pages
the accounts of the Tucumanians, with their hospitality and
joyousness ; of tlie Corrientinos, with their warm-hearted wel-
come ; of the Santiagians, with their dances and rausic

Our greatest regret is, that an expedition having such noble
ends should have been interfered with. The wanton firing
into the Water- Witch, at the order of President Lopez, may
yet prove the occasion of obtaining added facilities for expl<»^
ing more fully those lordly rivers and the countries which they
drain. The visit of the American fleet to Paraguay will doubt-
less exact justice, and we trust that Captain Page, who accom-
panies the vessels of war, will secure privileges for continuing
his peaceful mission. He has already drawn thither the at-
tention of our commercial and scientific men, and new explo-
rations are devoutly to be wished.

The results, of this exploration are of the greatest value to
La Plata and the world. The fertility and salubrity of this
region have been demonstrated beyond a doubt. The mild-
ness of the climate renders this magnificent valley a perfect
paradise. " I am constrained," says Captain Page, " to pro-
nounce Paraguay and those provinces of the Argentine Con-
federation which constituted the field of our operations, among
the healthiest regions of the earth."

We cannot give a more fitting conclusion to this article than
by quoting the reflections of our author in regard to the capa-
bilities and the future of this interesting valley of La Plata.

'^ A great predestined future none could doubt who for many months
had voyaged through such a valley of beauty, presenting, with the ex-
ception of our Mississippi, the fairest unbroken extent of cultivable

land in the world. Is tblg wealtli of creation to remain unavailable for
the comfort and happiness of men, while the powers holding dominion
over it invite immigration, and the over-crowded cities of Europe teem
with millioQs whose cry is for bread ? Emigrants to the valley of La I'Jata
may reach their homes in ocean steamers. No barren wildernesses are
to be traversed. No long winters or autumnal exhalations are to be
feai'ed. No warring with Indian, beast, or reptile, or with those tropi-
cal miasmata against which the mind and strength of the white race are
impotent. If Bolivia^ Paraguay, the Argentine Confederation, and
Buenos Ayres would unite and form a community of nations, neither
filibustering hoi^is nor imperial fleets could be feared. Spanish galleons,
freighted with the ^ fifths ' of Majesty, or the ships of Great Britain and
Portugal, laden with the profits of illegal trade, will never again saO
from La Plata. But the steamers of maritime nations^ bearing the
piquets of iudustrial power, w^ill cover her interior water-courses, and
in return will pour into the lap of those nations the agricultural and
mineral wealth of the Western Indies. No overthrow of e^wisting gov-
ernments, no political revulsions, are necessary to place the inhabitants
of these regions under the beneficent influences of a great republican
civilization,"

Art, VIIL — Life of .James Suiiivan: with Selections from
his Wrilings, By Thomas C, Amory. Boston: Phillips,
Sampson, & Co. 1859. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 414, 424,

There is one original feature in the working out of the plan
of the great Washington Monument, at our federal capital,
which is so appropriate and symbolic in itself, as to go far
towards reconciling us to a faultiness of taste in the whole
design. We refer to that feature, so generally approved, of
building into the walls, on the inner surface, blocks of every
variety of stone, gathered from all quarters, and bearing ap-
propriate inscriptions designating tijeir grateful donors. There
is a meaning in this ; or rather it admits of a significance
which we shall venture to assign to it. Beneath the deep
foundations of the structure is the stone inscribed with the
name of Washington. The external walls are uniform and
homogeneous in their material. But as the visitor ascends the

444 ura OF JAICB8 suLUTiUr. [^M"i^

winding stair within, hb gaze is to be invited and detained bj
a series of moral tablets, bass-ieliefe, and inscriptions, on stDoa
of varions shape and size, of granite, slate, or marble. These
are all free contributions to the stractore, and are nominally
dedicated as tributes to the great and good man whom the
pillared shaft commemorates. Those inscribed atones besr
various devices and legends. They are contributed by sovo^
eign States, by municipal, mercantile, charitable, professioosl,
artistic, and mechanical corporations and associations, and faj
patriotic individuals. If wrought in vrith skill and good taste^
they wUl form one of the most appropriate, perhaps the most
striking, of all the features of that stupendous monnmeiit
Anything like symmetry in the arrangement of those inner
blocks is out of the question. A forced attempt at symmetry
would vitiate the very purpose aimed at in them, and turn
the matter to a merely finical result

Now just what those inscribed stones are to the Washing*
ton Monument, the biographies of bur Bevolutionary patriots
are to our organic nationd history. The exterior surfiBwe of
the monument, as we have said, is uniform and homogeneous.
So must be the plan and method and the working out of our
national history, if we ever have a writer equal to the whole
theme. But the greater variety there is in the contributions
to its internal composition, in the lives and reported services of
the able and faithful men who helped to plan and secure tbe
whole fabric, the better will posterity understand, and the more
thankfully will it appreciate, the noble work.

Such a contribution Mr. Amory has made to one of the
most valuable departments of our national history, in his biog-
raphy of his grandfather. Governor Sullivan of Massachusetts.
The subject of it eminently deserved thb grateful memorial,
and the author of the volumes in our hands has discharged
his office with unexceptionable good taste, with the utmost
fidelity in research, with appreciation, candor, intelligence, and
rare impartiality. He has bad a most interesting story to tell,
and he has wisely allowed the whole interest of his pages to
be sought for in their proper subject-matter, without drawing
upon his own imagination, or exaggerating any incident which
he relates. No partisan feeling seems to have had the slight-

1869.]

LIFE OF JAMES SULLIVAN,

445

est influence with him, though his narrative leads him through
the times of the most exciting and embittered party strife of
which the record enters into our annals. The pride of kindred
might be justified in a far more obtrusive display of itself than
his modest pen and his chastened style allow. It is evident
that the industry and toil which Mr. Amory has spent upon
this excellent work would have sufficed for the preliminary
labor requisite for the composition of a liistory of the chief
events and deeds which mark the period embraced in his
biography. He has turned his temptation to difiuseness into a
concentration of the substance of much biographical, political,
and historical material in well-wrought paragraphs and com-
prehensive chapters.

Here, then, we have another inscribed block to be wrought
into our national monument, A block of firm-set texture, and
of the substantial quality of our native granite, would be typical
of the character and services of the man whose eminent life-
work 13 recorded in these pages. The best office which we can
perform at once for the book and for our own readers, is to
follow the lead of the author, and to report in a condensed
and summary way the main points of the story which he has
fiirnished for our gratified perusal. One element of his plan
is to allow others to speak to ua in his place, where he thinks
an extract from a document^ carrying with it the life and pas-
sion of its own time, will convey to us better than reports or
comments of his own an intelligible view of what he seeks
to communicate. He gives us especially liberal selections from
the writings of Governor Sullivan, and intimates a purpose to
follow the present volumes with a more extended compilation.
It is remarkable, that, with the exception of a Life of Governor
Gerry, this should be the first contribution, in anything more
than the most unpretending and inadequate form, to the biog-
raphy of the post- Revolutionary Governors of Massachusetts.
We will now pass rapidly through its pages*

Mr* Amory begins the genealogy of his family at a date
when the characteristic O' formed a part of the name, and
that capital vowel, with the aspirate following, unmistakably
localizes the portion of the human race concerning whose for-
tunes he writes. The O'Sullivans have a distinguished fame

VOL. LXXXVJIL NO. 183. 38

446 LIFE OF JAMES SULLIVAN. [•^P"'?

in Irish history as far back as the era in which fabaloos legends
give place to veritable records. They constituted a large and
powerful sept, ruled by a succession of independent chieftains,
mighty and rich in castles and lands. The sept retained iU
wild independence down to the time of Elizabeth, and had
joined the famous Catholic Lieague of Mnnater, at the close
of the sixteenth century. English conquest sweeping over
the land of course reduced the O'SuUivans to sabjection, ex-
cept so far as an intenser hostility of spirit was engendered
in Irish hearts by the loss of independence, and by disabilities
attending a constancy of adherence to the Roman Catholic
faith. Mr. Amory relates with a vigorous pen the embittering
details of the hatred and strife incident to the subjugation
of Ireland by the Protestants of the neighboring island, and
he gives reasons which might justify a survival in the feel-
ings of his kindred, even to this day, of an inherited animosity.
But he nobly discharges his own breast of all such feelings,
and is careful to follow his exciting narrative with some calm
words of wise and forbearing Christian moderation.

A speck of romance connects itself with the transition of
the family history from the Green Isle to the forests of North-
ern New England. The father of Governor James Sullivan
was John O' Sullivan, born in Limerick, Ireland, in 1692. He
might have lived to win his share of renown, and to exhibit
some of the prowess of his ancestors in his native land, had it
not been for a trial of the affections which drew out alike the
strength of his more tender passions and the obstinate resolu-
tion of his will. But it was of precisely such stock as his, and
such children as he would train up, that the colonics of Eng-
land on this side of the water were soon to have need, and
whatever of unsettled accounts between his family and Eng-
land required readjustment were destined to have a field and
an opportunity for settlement here. John O' Sullivan had
set his affections upon a young lady whom his high-spirited
mother did not regard as his equal in blood and social rank,
and whom she therefore positively forbade him to marry. He
vowed that, if thus opposed in the dearest wish of his heart,
he would go where his mother should never hear of him or
from him again. He made good his threat, and it was liter-

1859.]

LIFB OF lAMSS SULLIVAi;.

447,

I
■

I
I

ally falfillecl in the very terras in wliich he defined it. Hej
sailed fiom Limerick in 1723, as it would appear, pennilessJ
Whatever the destination of the vessel, or bis own plans, it
was driven, by stress of weather, into York, Maine, where hel
entered into an agreement to earn with his hands or wits thai
means of paying the master for his passage. He had as a
fellow-passenger a forlorn little orphan girl, Margery Brown

by name, aged nine years, whose fortunes were thenceforward
to be linked with his own through a life of extraordinary
length. Having received at home a good classical education,
without any training to manual labor, the task of meeting his
obligations and supporting himself by the work of bis hands
was so irksome, that he naturally cast about for some relief
which w^ould throw the burden upon his mind. He therefore
applied to the famous Father Moody of York, for employ-
ment in teaching, and for a loan wherewith to discharge his
debt. He obtained the loan, from which, besides paying his
due to the captain of the vessel, he bought olT the indentures I
of the aforesaid Margery, of whose origin and desolate lot
there is no explanation. Besides this, even, he took the
child under his charge, and brought her up aa bis own, while I
he at once opened two schools, one for boys and one for girls, ;
kept, after the intermittent fashion and necessity of the time
and region, only for a part of the year. As little Margery
grew up, she developed both attractions and a temper, the
former of which she naturally lost, and the latter of which
she as naturally retained, in her advancing years. A passing
stranger, struck with her girlish beauty as she was drawing
water at the well, instantly pressed his suit upon her. Being
dressed in better apparel, and appearing to greater advantage
than the young men whom the maiden was accustomed to
see, she referred him to her faJher^ whom tlie suitor at once
importuned with his first warmth of passion. The Irish exile
was not pleased with the aspect of the matter, and dismissed
the youth with a refusal. The affair, however, seems to have
opened his own eyes, and perhaps those of the maiden, to the
possibility of a new disposition of their household relations,
and she soon became his wife. Though of an uncultivated
raind and taste, she proved to be a most energetic womaii|

448

EtiXFE

OF JAMES SULT^IVAJT,

[Ap*

fiedthfolly snpervisitig the ecoiiomieal ititeresta of her huBbmi
and diechar^ng her maternal duties in a way to secure tbt
love and respect of her children. Her hosbaud soon bougb
forest land in Berwick^ where he continued to reside till hii
death, in 1796, at which time he had entered upon the faondred
and fifth year of his life, sixty years of which he had speol
on this soil of his purchase. He did not love farm-toil, tad
his wife relieved him of much of the labor of its supcrriiiDii,
while he devoted himself to more congenial tasks. He vims t
sort of " squire ** for his town and the neighborhood, arbitnt-
ing in strifes, drawing legal papers, and teaching the yoiipg of
several generations the needful humanities, while to the mcHrt
capable pupils, including his own children, he was fully able
to impart the rodiments of even a liberal edaoatioii. Ul
Eliot, in his Biographical Dictionary, says that JItatter Sul-
livan, as he was farniliarly called, spoke fluently both Fremk
and Latin, and wrote them correctly, after he had completed
his century of years. He was temperate to abstinence. He
retained his strength and faculties to the very last, cnttiiig
wood, doing farm-work, and taking rides of thirty miles in a
day on horseback, to visit his son. This old patriarch, tlie
subduer of wUd woods and the humanizer of nigged Uves,
appears to have isolated himself as to the religious sympathy
of bis neighbors, and so it has been conjectured that he ie»
tained in private affection the favorite creed and faith of bis
Irish ancestry. But a pleasant and impressive picture of him
is preserved in the memory of an aged woman, who describes
the old man as she saw him on a visit to his cottage, with his
long dark robe, a small cap crowning his white locks as they
flowed over his shoulders, the appearance of fine health on an
attractive face, and his spare frame bowed over his Bible. A
copy of Hervey's Meditations among the Tombs — not one
of the most cheerful even of serious companions — was lying
upon the table near him. His widow died in 1801, at the age
of eighty-seven. The remains of the venerable couple repose
within the limits of theur Berwick farm.

From them sprang, with other children, four sons, who were
foremost in patriotism and in service during our Revolutionary
strife, and two of whom were efficient builders of our nationsd

»1859.]

Uf£ OF JAllES SULUVAN.

419

fabric. Jame», the fourth son, the subject of the present me-
moir, was born at Berwick, April 22, 1744. His horae, was on
freshly cleared soil, flanked by wild forests, the last scenes
of Indian border strife. The whole region, with its frontier
experiences, was admirably suited to call out the energies
of self-dependence, and the inborn faculties to which alone
manhood must owe subssistencci or advance in means and
honors. His father intended that James, like his older
brother John, the General in the war of the Revolution, shotdd
be trained to military life. But accident withstood the pur-
pose. We find him first engaged in his youth in the hardy
toil of a lumberman, shooting down timber through a tributary
of the Piscataqua. While he was stretched on the grass one
summer day for sleep, he was horror-stricken on awakijig
to see a rattlesnake watching him and ready to make the fatal
spring. The swoon into which he sank from fright was be-
lieved to have saved him from the fangs of the reptile, — death
or seeming death being supposed to secure immunity from its
assaults. But the fearful shock caused to his nervous system
by the dread apprehension is regarded as the primary cause of
those attacks of epilepsy to which he was subject through the
rest of his life, which seized upon him at home and abroad, in
court and at church, and made him the pitiable spectacle of
many painful scenes. Another calamity in his youth visited
upon him life-long consequences. While he was felling a tree,
one of his legs w^as caught by a bent branch, and received a com-
pound fracture, which, aggravated by unskilful surgery, con-
fined him at home for two years, and made him lame ever after.
During this confinement he applied liiraselfto faithful study,
learning the Latin grammar, and whatever he could procure in
that language, with all other available knowledge ; and so he
laid the foundation for a solid literary culture, and real accom-
plishment in intellectual sciences, which made up to him for the
lack of a college counie,and indeed, through his subsequent pro-
fessional career, advanced him far beyond many of his contem-
poraries, who had enjoyed the best education of the times. His
brother John, having made trial of the sea, devoted himself to
the study of the law; and, meeting with success, established
himself at Durham, New Hampshire, where James became his
38*

4S0

LIFE OF JAMKS StJLLrTAN-*

fApA

papii in 1764^ In that relation the two brothers were filtrd fcr
the yaiiotui services which they afterwards performed for their
country, while the honors of each culmhmted in thek reaehisf
respectively the chief magistracy of New 'Hampshire and flf
Massachnsetts. A ctirioas, but by no raeans a singular, pnh
fessional experience attended the settlenrient of John Siiilitau
at Durham. Lawyers in that time and neighborhood were
regarded as a pestilent and mischief-making set of mea, who«r
livelihood depended upon the promatioa of strifea and difiv'
ences among their neighbors. The neighbors of the new-ooma
to Durham manifested in no dubious way their displeasure st
his presence, and gave him notice to take himself ofC He di^
regarding the hint, a violent collision, with insults and Uow%
was the natural consequence. After the issae had been pio-
tracted, it was concluded to settle it by the resnlt of a cham-
pionship vrith the fists of one on either side. James SoIlivaB
was the champion on the side of Law, in both senses of the
word, and he was victorious. Amicable relations were rerj
soon established, and there was work preparing for lawyers, <rf
a sort to make them quite helpful to their neighbors.

The agitations and discussions roused by the Stamp Act
were just then engaging the zeal of the people of New Eng>
land. James Sullivan, who soon found a wife in Hetty Odi-
orne, hard by his brother's home, entered upon his professional
studies just at the opportune time for hastening all his faculties
to their faithful and profitable development. After having ie»
sided for a short period at Georgetown, a place which compie*
bended in its title an island and a section of the mainland at
the mouth of the Kennebec, he removed to Biddeford, on the
Saco. Here he prospered in his profession, and advanced his
worldly interests, and here he would in all probability have
passed his days, had it not been for the exciting scenes that
invited him nearer to the centre of the turmoil. It was while
riding the circuit for professional practice, and following up
the business of the courts over long country roads, and in the
close intercourse of the hospitalities of the public inns and pri-
vate homes of those days, that he made the intimate acquaint-
ance of many men of ability, destined to act conspicuous parts
in the coming contest Lowell, SewaU, Otis, and Adams

1859,1

LIFE OF JAMES SirLUVAK.

451

shared with him the rough adventures of travel, and the often
>ughcr contests of forensic practice, all happily soothed by
ikhe familiar pleasantries of rural festivity. These home-bred
iwryers were a class of men with whom more than with any
3ther class rested the prospects and fortunes of the Colonies,
when threatening issues were raised with the mother country.
They had stronger temptations than any other class to retain
their allegiance, to temporize, or to oppose the Revolutionary
spirit. They had the most at risk in the strife, and would be
the severest sufferers in case of an unsuccessful revolt.

In the year 1774, the last year of grace allowed to the vacil-
lating for taking a decided stand, and the first year of the real
contest as it presented the issue in its broadest bearijigs, James
Sullivan was sent as representative from Biddeford to the Gen-
eral Court then meeting at Salem, just as the Boston Port Bill
was to take effect. He and his brother John wt?re concerned
in the first overt act of the Revolution, which was the seizure,
in December, 1774, of Fort William and Mary, in Portsmouth
harbor. The powder which was obtained in this capture,
after having been concealed for a time under the pulpit of the
meeting-house in Durham, was carried to CambritJge by John
Sullivan in the following May, and used by the American
soldiers in the battle of Bunker Hill. It will at some futnre
time engage the zeol of some curious episodical investigator
of especial points in the conduct of our war, to inquire for
what proportion of all the military equipments, weapons, am-
munition, clothing, small stores, and commissary's goods used
by our troops, we drew upon our opponents. The rich prizes
brought in by our privateers, together with several success-
ful raids upon the goods of the enemy, will be found to have
furnished no small part of the camp furniture of the patriot
army.

James Sullivan, having thus entered upon political life at a
crisis which committed every able man to serve in some ca-
"^pacity through the whole of the campaign about to open, was
thenceforward put to service in a long succession of exacting
ind responsible trusts. On occasional visits to his home, he
employed himself in stirring up, instructing, and nerving the
»^it of the largest patriotism, on which alone the cause of his

452 LCPA OF JAMES BULLIVAK. [AjRlIy

countrymen could rest in the arduous and doubtful straggle
yet before them. They might be called to bear disaster and
ruin, in any form which it might please their enemies to in-
fiict, and resistance required of them to subject themselves to
the severest burdens of taxation, self-denial| and military mle
imposed by their own leaders. The most remarkable and
characteristic feature of our Revolutionary struggle ^was, that it
was conducted through means afforded by a most methodical
and systematic adherence to all the forms of civil legislation
and administration, practised amid the actual ^vreck of all es-
tablished government There was really no legal sanction for
giving effect to the last will of a dying testator, or to the mili-
tary commission of the leader of all our armies. The volun-
tary system reigned supreme. James Sullivan was one of the
most laborious and hardest-worked members of both ProVin-
cial Congresses, and afterwards of the same body when le-
organized, according to the terms of the Charter of 1692, as
the Provincial Assembly. He served on more than one hun-
dred committees ; he drafted important documents, initiated
and matured measures of offence, of defence, and of wise {m>-
vision for all manner of contingencies ; he was commissioner
of the expedition to Ticonderoga, in the affair with Arnold ;
he acted prominently in the case of the traitor Dr. Church ; he
framed the act of the Assembly authorizing the fitting out of
armed vessels, the beginning of our navy, and was appointed
one of the three Admiralty Judges. While the American army,
under Washington, was investing the foe in Boston, his brother
John Sullivan was doing good service as a brigadier-general,
and was enjoying the success of his late law pupil in the
multiplied employments of military legislation. On the evac-
uation of Boston, James Sullivan, not yet thirty-two years old,
and still serving in the Assembly, was made a Judge of the
newly reorganized Superior (afterward Supreme) Court. " His
brother Eben, as a patriot soldier, was adding to the laurels
of the family in one direction, while his other brother. Captain
Daniel Sullivan, was equally busy in another, till he was uum-
bered among the victims of the Jersey prison-ship, in 1782.

To be nearer to the scene of his professional duties, James
Sullivan removed to Grroton, in this State, in 1778, though

1859.]

LIVAK.

•153

be still continued to represent hia old neighbors in ihe Assem*
biy. As a matter of course, he was a member of the Con-
vention for framing our first State Constitution. The claims
of a growing family, and the insufficiency of his salary as
a Judge of the Supreme Court, compelled him to resign that
office, and, removing to Boston, he entered upon the fullest
and most lucrative practice of the legal profession. He served
for a short time in the Continental Congress. One of the
most laborious and vexatious of his many public trusts was
that which he discharged as com ssioner on the public
and private claims to lands west of the Hudson River. These
claims were perplexed and embarrassed by the old Charter
grants, by unextinguished Indian rights, by inconsistent In-
dian deeds and stipulations, by rival pretensions to jiu*isdie-
tion, and by the sturdy resolution of actual occupants. When
they became complicated also by relations brought about
between the Colonies through the Confederation, and in-
volved in litigation before the difterent courts, and a fierce
collision of individual interests, it may well be inferred that
only men of rare abilities were competent to adjudicate
upon them, and that even such decisions as they might

e teach would provoke many personal hostilities, the effects of
which would outlast their occasions. It was in the discharge
of this trust that Judge Sullivan found a use for all the prac-
tical knowledge which he had already acquired about Land
Titles, and was led to that thorough and systematic examina-
tion of the whole complicated subject, the results of which
appear in his treatise under that name. His History of the
Province of Maine is a creditable monument to his research,
his general intelligence, and his skill as a i^Titer of good, plain
English.

The circumstances of the times brought before our courts
any cases arising out of the previously existing complica*
of the affairs of church and state. Ecclesiastical liti-
tlon is one of the most annoying professional employments
f a jurist. In those days no one could take part in it to any
good purpose, unless he had a considerable amount of the-
ological knowledge, and a strong personal sympathy on one
side or the other, committing liim to the old views and

454

UFE OF JAMES 6ULUVAN.

UBages, or to the new-boro spirit of religious freedom,
all its risks. Judge Sullivan was a consistent church-me
heartily interested in the public and private offices of religi
a strict observer of its ordinances in the public assen|
and in the forms of domestic devotion. He [lad entd
in his early years into covenant relations with a Calviiii^
Congregational church in Maine, but had gradually yiek
to the liberalizing influences which had modified the ii
of so many of his private and professional associates, |
Boston he became a member of the Brattle Street Chui
and worshipped there in a communion which drew togei
the prominent leaders of the two political parties, and |
successive rival candidates for the Governorship of Maij
chusetts. Under these circumstances he was often emploi
in cases of ecclesiastical litigation, and always espoused |
side of freedom, pleading effectively for the entire dissociaJ
of things spiritual and civil in the province of legislation, j
was well for an advocate on that side, that he was know^
be a friend and a pledged disciple of religion j for at that tl
there were many who, with no faith of their own, assuB
the right of supervising the faith of others.

The newly established government of Massachusetts |
subjected to a sore trial of its strength and popularity in |
Rebellion of 1786. There were sharp animosities and fi^
struggles, lingering feuds, and grievous burdens of taxat|
with exhausted public and private exchequers, all conf|
trating the darkest clouds in the near, as well as in the ^
tant horizon. The threatening state of affairs seemed to i
for that mature wisdom which could follow only from
full trial of an experiment then but in its opening stage.
those who were relied upon to exercise the controlling
flucnce of mental or official authority under such a hazards
state of things, the most needful qualities w^ere a resolute ^
fearless support of the principles then on trial, and a spirl|
forbearance ever read}-^ to practise the utmost tolerance!
wards disaflected, ignorant, and impulsive men, whose g
pose was in the main honest. Judge Sullivan appears
have used his clear-headed discretion in connection wi
conciliatory spirit-, through all those threatening times.

1869.]

UPB OP JAHES SCLLIVAK.

455

most of the men in office at that period, he was a constant
writer in the gazettes, where, under variouB signatures, gen*
erally not amounting to a disguise, he forcibly expressed
his own views, and combated those of others, standing ready
to meet, and sometimes to exchange, the asperities of lan-
guage incident to such a mode of discussing embittered
issues. If ever any skilful writer among us shall think it
worth his while to revive and rehearse a full presentment of
the matters then discussed in the newspapers under sundry
classical and patriotic noms de plnme^ he will doubtless find
in them, or elaborate from them, illustrations of some of the
profoundest truths of the largest human science, while he
traces through them the inchoate principles of the best as-
sured economical and political maxims of our day. Patriot-
ism certainly did not lisp, as other infant things do. It spoke
strongly in well-formed periods, and often showed much
familiarity with the Classical Dictionary.

Mr, Sullivan was next appointed successively Judge of
Probate, one of the Executive Council, and Attorney-General
of the State ; neither of which offiees was inconsistent with
his continuance in private practice. In the last of these
offices his duties as public prosecutor were very onerous, and
were discharged with a fidelity that drew encomiums from
men most passionately enlisted against him in the strife of
party. The famous Selfridge case, occurring at a time of the
intensest acrimony in State and national politics, called him
t^ one of the severest trials of forensic ability against the most
eminent talent enlisted on the other side. The death of his
wife was followed by a second marriage, which made him
the brother-in-law of Governor Langdon of New Hampshire.
Home was rendered pleasant to him by its natural cares, by
the refuge which it afforded from the heats of public life,
and by the exercise of a large hospitality. Not the least
among his various serv^ices were those which he performed
in the discharge of numerous municipal trusts in the town
of Boston before it received its city charter. These services
were exacting and responsible, and often involved as much
of passionate contention and of a rivaky of interests as be-
longed to the antagonism of partisans on the broader fields

456

LIFE OF JAMES SULLIVAN.

of politics. Judge Sullivan declined to be a candidati
the Convention to form our national Constitution; bu
accepted the agency for our government in the mat
the boundary line, to be decided with reference to the at
which was properly mgnified by the St. Croix River, as
vided for in the treaty with Great Britain,

This busy man found time to serve all the various a
ctations then formed in Boston in the interests of scio
literaturCj history, charity^ and internal improvements,
was one of the original Fellows of the American Acadi
of Arts and Sciences ; first President of the Massacbusi
Historical Society ; first Vice-President of the Congregatid
Charitable Society ; and a member of the Humane Soc^
and of the Society for Propagating the Gospel among tboj
dians and others in North America. He was also one of
projectors and a most efficient agent for insuring the sud
of the Middlesex Canal, the Jamaica Pond Aqueduct, and|
West Boston Bridge^ — enterprises at that time of a cd
formidable character, however moderate and practicable ^
may appear now, when dwarfed by modern undertakU
After having stood, for several years, as the Republii
candidate for the office of Governor of Massachusetts^
was finally chosen in 1807, and again in 1808, and
while filling the chair, December 10, 1808, aged sixty
years.

Interspersed over the pages of the second volume of
work are very valuable and instructive materials for tracj
the history of the first party issues and strifes which divid
not only the citizens of Massachusetts, but almost equally |
people of the republic^ from the hour of the formation i
adoption of the Federal Constitution. It would hardly s€|
possible that darker times, or fiercer struggles, or more thrf
ening risks, should ever present themselves on this contin^
than those through which Mr. Amory leads us in his nai
tive. His summary relations, though concise, are luminq
and perfectly adequate to their purpose. His own comm^
are exceedingly candid In their spirit, and are designed i|
wise and suggestive way to indicate to his readers, that \
same candor which is so excellent a help to the right rea

1859.]

LIFE OP JAMES SULLIVAN.

457

&f the history of the past, is the best security for good temper
Tftnd honesty amid the exciting experiences of the present time.
Many of his readers will doubtless ask on which side are his
own convictions and sympathies in the remnants of the old
strifes, or in the fresh agitations of our day, to which he neccs*
sarily makes reference. But if they find an answer which
commits him to a fealty to any party except that which in-
cludes men of moderation, they will have found something
which has escaped our notice.

Besides the interesting biographical narrative contained in
these volumes, we value them highly for the information
and the judicious hints which they contain in reference to
the origin, the grounds, the manifestations, and the merits
of the first divisions and alienations of opinion among those
honest men, who, from having been united heart and soul
in the sternest patriotic fidelity, were so soon found in hot
contention about the true interests of their country. The par-
tisanship of those times was unmistakably acrimonious, often
blind and bitterly unjust We thank every writer of our own
day who reviews those ancient feuds so as to present to ua
their merits in a passionless and faithful narrative, and so as to
leave us at liberty to believe — ay, more, so as to compel us to
believe — that the fiercest champions in those party strifes were
honest men, true patriots, and not intentionally Babel work-
men. Certainly, order, a noble, finished fabric, and not con-
fusion, is the result of their work, and that result is a composite
structure showing how the most various materials contribute to
harmony, in use at least, if not in design. Dr. Randall, in his
Life of Jefferson, so elaborately and conscientiously wrought
out, has removed the scales of a miserable prejudice from the
eyes and minds of thousands of readers in New England, who
had inherited the notion that this wise and able man was a
monster of depravity, ajid an especial hater and foe of his own
country, Mr. Amory leads us over a portion of the same
most rich and fruitful field which is so admirably worked by
Br. Randall, He makes the biography of his grandfather the
thread on which he strings a great many lessons of sound
wisdom for all times. There is just that calm and healthful
moderation in his remarks upon these party j^trifes, which
VOL. LXXXVIIL NO. 183. 39

458 LIFE OF JAMS8 SULLIVAN. [Apd,

would indicate, that, after having thoroughly reviewed them
with an intelligent mind, the writer had no ambition, oo
interest, no feeling even of ^b own, beyond that of a pfmk
and well-disposed citizen of the republic* He does not even
attempt to sum up in a general concentration of balanced
and adjusted estimates the claims which the subject of hb
volumes has upon the gratitude or the respect of posterity.
Still less does he assume the judicial office of pronoundng
upon the complexion of his life and the composition of bis
character. He leaves his readers to decide how Governor
Sullivan shall stand before them in the light of his own deeds
and purposes, and in the shadows of his own times. Those
shadows were deep, and they are deep to us as we look back
into them, except as they are illumined by the candor which
knowledge and charity will impart to all who try to under-
stand their conflicts. The best use of such \(rorks as this
before us is, that they revive in the most intelligible and
instructive way the story of times which have entailed upon
us some of their own strifes, and have confused our judgment
of men and things which it is very desirable for us to under-
stand and estimate rightly. We might naturally have sap-
posed that the formation of a Constitution for our federal
government would have been so deliberately entered upon
and pursued to its great results, as to leave no material for
any extended opposition to the details which it involved;
and that its adoption would have been followed by the inau-
guration of a feeling of universal good-fellowship over the
country. But that fancy is strangely mocked by any page of
the records of those times, whether it contain the debates of
a national or State convention, or the doings of a town-meet-
ing in the obscurest village of the land. There were ques-
tions of infinite moment opened for agitation. The experi-
ments that were to be put on trial were wholly beyond the
scope of all the precedents which the history of the world
could furnish. Some of the ominous forebodings and dismal
apprehensions connected with the earliest party discords in
our political annals appear to us as the merest bugbears ; we
are tempted to laughter as we read of them ; we wonder that
people with honest consciences could have been wrought up

1&39.1

LIFE OF JAMES 6ULLIVAK.

459

to such alarnij to such passion, about them. The fear that
Washington would set up a monarchy; that a privileged
class would bring in orders of nobility; that returning loyal-
ists were secret agents of a prince of the blood commissioned
to subject us again to royal rule ; — ^ these and some other ap-
prehensionsj which made our grandfathers more afraid of the
daylight around them than their grandfathers had been of
the Indians prowling about their cabins at midnight, seem
to ns too unreal to be seriously talked of. Bat there was a
reality answering to each one of those apprehensions. There
was a risk of centralization, and of an entail of offices and
privileges in our national government The returning loyal-
ists, seeking to reclaim their alienated estates, revived many
dangerous contentions. The treaty with England left some
of the most fruitful matters of subsequent strife still open,
and concentrated party interests and common fears upon
them. The funding system, and the equalizing of obliga-
tions aaiong those whose debts were unequal ; the question
about the levying of imposts, — ^ whether by State or federal
authority ; the question of neutrality and of commercial re-
strictions ; and, above all, the question of sympathy and alli-
ance with France, before and after her revolution turned to
fearful anarchy; — these were some of the materials for the
fires of political and partisan strife, than which no later age
of the republic has provided any more combustible.

Judge Sullivan stood as the Jeffersonian, or Republican, or
Democratic candidate for the chair of state, when the intensity
of party rancor had reached its boiling point. Some of the
principles of government to which he gave his allegiance were
especially obnoxious to his professional associates. His op-
ponents, at the bar were generally those who belonged to the
antagonistic political party, lie allowed his name to stand
as the target for the shafts cast at the set of measures then
identified with the Republican platform. He was the subject
of some slanderous imputations, which seem as we read the
account of them to be rather available as a tribute to his
integrity, — because, few as they are, they were all that the
most venomous hostility could summon against him, while
their triviality makes them for the most part matters of indif-

460 palfrey's history of nbw BNoi:.Ain>. [Apd,

ference. Still, as we read the extracts from his writings which
his grandson with excellent jadgment has spread before os,
we see that he was really no partisan, bnt an independem
man. We find expressions of regret and distrust uttered by
him about some of the men whom his party ivas compelled
to carry with it His allegiance was that of a man who most
choose between one of two parties on general principles, and
on a few grounds of decided conviction. "We therefore cloee
the volumes with a grateful impression of the man and of his
career. His Life, and the inscription which it bears, are a rooet
valuable contribution to our national monument.

Art. IX. — History of New Etiffland. By John Gorham
Palfrey. Boston : Little, Brown, & Co. 1858. Vol. L
pp. 636.

The Transatlantic reproach cast upon the snperficialness
of American scholarship and authorship can be in no wise
affected by our simple denial of the charge, nor yet can it be
extenuated by our partial admission of it with grounds of
justification. It has already become somewhat stale, solely be-
cause, since our national self-complacency was first disturbed by
it, our soil has been growing more and more prolific of schol-
ars and writers who could not fail of an English reputation.
Yet there are departments of learning in which we must, no
doubt, remain for the present in the rear of our European con-
temporaries, for want of adequate libraries, of a proper division
of intellectual labor, and of endowments for the support and
encouragement of those who make it their life-work to add to
the world's stock of knowledge. Thus in regard to the entire
study and science of language we are placed at a disadvantage
which cannot be easily overcome, except by extended foreign
residence or travel ; for philology, equally with zoology or as-
tronomy, must be based on observation and comparison ; and
the philologist is in most of our public libraries as destitute of
materials for the prosecution of his inquiries, as a zoologist
would be in a thronged city, or an astronomer under an
always clouded sky.

palfrey's EISTORY of new ENGLAND.

These considerations are not necessarily a bar to the highest
eminence in the department of modern history. Here^ indeed,
our public libraries are deficient, even in works relating to our
own country, of which there is at least one private citizen who
has a much more valuable collection than is possessed by any
State or college. Nor yet is there any considerable chapter of
history which can be properly studied without first-hand access
to state-papers in the keeping of European governments. Yet
the historian may cross the Atlantic with all the questions for
which he needs an answer ready shaped to his mind, may
know precisely what he requires to consult, and where, and he
may thus bring home memoranda and transcripts which shall
be the fuJl and suflicient supplement of what he can gather
from our own collections and archives. Moreover, it accords
with all experience, though we know not how to generalize the
law of human nature to which it should be referred, that he
who must travel far for his authorities sifts them more warily
and thoroughly than he who has them but an arm's length
from him. It cannot be denied, that among our historical
writers there are some, at least, who have no superiors in breadth
of comprehension, thoroughness of execution, and force, pre-
cision, and elegance of style. The list we indeed might feel
disposed to shorten from that which has sometimes appeared
on our pages in past years. We have been too ready to re-
ceive bulkiness as synonymous with greatness, and have occa-
sionally manifested more pride in a series of ponderous octavos
than their contents would warrant

Yet, whether we include more or fewer names in our cata-
logue of American historians who belong to the foremost rank,
there can be only unanimous consent in assigning the first
place among those who have given us finished works to him
who has been so recently summoned out of the world with
his master-work unfinished. In Prescott, we hardly know
whether most to admire his indefatigable industry in collect-
ing materials from so various and distant sources, his complete
mastery and unchallenged criticism of his authorities, his ex-
quisite method, hitJ vivid reproduction of personages and trans-
actions, or his unstudied dignity and spontaneous gmce of
style and diction. For our own part, we have been most of
39*

462 palfrey's history of new ei^glahb. [Apd,

all impressed by the imaginative power ivhicb makes his nar-
rative like that of a contemporary and eyewitness, so that
we forget for the time the author's personality, and seem to
be reading the pages of one whose national sympathies ait
identified with this or that party in the drama which he causes
to pass before us, — except that in the shifting* of these sym-
pathies as the scales of justice change their poise, we are made
again to feel that he is always the compatriot of those whose
is the right cause or the wrong suffering. Of the virtues
which made him — what the great historian, no less than the
true orator, must be — a pre-eminently good man, we trust that
the day is not far distant when an adequate memorial maybe
given to the public ; in which event we will hope to transfer
to our pages some not unworthy likeness of one whose name
will be held in long regret, and in enduring reverence and love.
It is a noteworthy coincidence, that the press of this city
should have issued almost simultaneously the last volame of
hitherto our greatest historian, and the first volume of one
who promises to add to not dissimilar claims upon our grati-
tude the added title of the first historiographer, in any worthy
sense, of his and our native New England. With strong
points of difference, there are not a few of close resemblance
between Prescott and Dr. Palfrey. They are alike in their
minuteness and thoroughness of investigation, in their un-
impassioned impartiality of narrative, in their accurate pre-
sentation of remoter historical causes and more recondite
motives, in their independence of commonplaces and conven-
tionalities in their judgment of men and transactions, in their
constant reference to an elevated standard of right, and in
gravity, purity, and precision of style. Prescott is the more
dramatic of the two ; but Dr. Palfrey, by the distinctness of
his delineation, by the perfect proportions of his narrative, and
by a quality closely analogous to the chiaro scuro of a sister
art, which strikingly characterizes all that he has ever written,
throws equal life into history, and makes it equally the pre-
sentment to the inward eye of the scenes and events of an
earlier time. Prescott's descriptions are faithful word-paint-
ings; Dr. Palfrey's remind us of a colorless transparency.
The difference is to be in part ascribed to native temperament ;

1859.]

falfkey's histort of kbw bnqlakd.

463

in part, to their respective subjects. The one has wrought in
regions redolent of romantic associations, among memorials
of vanished greatness, and upon scenes and characters remote
from our familiar knowledge and ready sympathy ; the other,
on what was a rasa tabula for his pencil, among the monu-
ments of our own ancestry, and upon personages and events
blended with all that we are, and daily witness, and con-
stantly experience. Their differences thus merge themselves
in that broader resemblance, in which the manner of each is
closely adapted to his work ; and we believe that neither could
have been so entirely successful in the other*s field of labor,

Dr, Palfrey manifests rare gifts as an historian. First of all,
he loves his subject, A New England man as thoroughly in
character as veritably by right of birth, he inherits the prin-
ciples which presided in the inception of our republican insti-
tutions,— the fearless integrity, the persistent adherence to
the right, the uncompromising independence, the tenacity of
honest purpose, the ardent love of liberty, which were the ger-
minal principles of these Northeastern Colonies, and which
have been transplanted with our emigrant population through
the entire breadth of our continent His conscientious and
painstaking industry was needed, not so much for the narra-
tion of actual events on this side of the ocean, as for the often
obscure and difficult investigation of their Transatlantic causes
and relations. His candor is signally conspicuons in dealing
with matters in which varying opinions and interests have
transmitted sectional and party strifes, not indeed iu the form
of animosity, but of fixed historical prejudice, to the descend-
ants of the principal actors. His minuteness of narration
leaves at no point a reasonable curioaity unsatisfied; and yet
he has the rare art of multiplying details without magnifying
them, so that the salient topics of interest are never overlaid or
dwarfed by the pressure of collateral and subsidiary material.
Then, too, the work is equally fitted for the simply receptive
reader and the critical student of history. The text presents
an unbroken flow of easy narrative ; while in the copious
notes all points of controversy are elaborately discussed, dis-
crepances between different autliorities carefully noted, and
full references given*

palfrey's HISTOaY OF ITEW ENGLAND.

The settlement of New England presents for the histo:
a theme second to none in interest and magnitude, as regal
its antecedents and its results. Its epoch was, politically s
spiritually, at once a harvest season and a seed-time, — 1
ingathering of the mere handful of thoroughly matured sei
corn to be sown forthwith in the virgin soil of the N^
World. In saying this, we ascribe to our fathers superioii
over the men of their times only in what the stern discipll
of persecution and suffering could create and cherish ; in sii
seals of a divine and world-wide mission as are but tra|
figured wound-marks; in tendencies toward freedom, not ^
result of profounder reasoning or insight or foresight th(
belonged to their age, but of an experience so shaped as |
teach no other lesson. They were as narrow in their religion
sympathies as they were fervent in their piety; but a Pro)
dence higher than their thoughts, deeper than their plans^ i
shaped their course that they became inevitable pioneers i
the very liberty of conscience and of worship which they dj
allowed. ^ I

It seems to human view surprising that these regions \
North America should not have been colonized at an earli
period. Whatever measure of authenticity may be awardi
to the narratives of discovery by the Northmen, it is oertq
that they had the requisite ability and enterprise to reach <i
coasts, and to make permanent settlements upon them ; a|
the same hardihood, thirst for adventure, and zeal for maj
time exploration, which with the Southern nations of Euro|
found occupation in the East, if directed westward, must haj
planted these shores with an immigrant population before 4
invention of the art of printing. But had the discovery aij
planting of North America preceded this invention, the nee^
and straitnesses of forest life and savage warfare, the en til
separation from all that could serve for example and instn^
tion, and the absence of all means for embodying and circuit
ing intelligence, would have so rapidly deteriorated the irani
grant races, that it would have taken centuries to retrieve t|
degradation which would have reached its lowest possihl
point within fifty years from the landing of any company ^
colonists. Equally unpropitious would have been the settb

1859.]

palfrey's history of new ENGLAND*

465

ment of our country before the Protestant Reformation aroused
the European mind from its slumber of ages. In that case,
superstition must have been for generations grcrwing more
sombre, ignorance more crass and impenetrable, Romanism
more like feticism, before the light that rose in the East could
have found its way across the ocean ; and the states that have
been formed from Spanish America are types of what our
whole continent must of necessity have been^ had the veil that
rested on the Western World been prematurely lifted.

We believe, with Dr. Palfrey, that the leading minds of the
Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay Colonies brought with
them principles and maxims of government, and of individual
rights, which could have no other embodiment than in repub-
lican institutions. There was an essential connection between
Puritanism and civil freedom. The Puritan had so pervading
and intense a perception of his accountability to God for
fidelity to the dictates of his individual conscience, that he
could not be the passive subject of arbitrary power. The
question "with him w^as that of the safety or perdition of his
sou!, and it was too heavy a stake to be put at hazard by kings
or courts. He owned no lawgiver but the Supreme Ruler of
the universe, and could submit to no sway exercised indepen-
dently of his will. The limitation of the elective franchise
and of participation in the government of the state to church-
members, was but the natural expression of this sentiment. An
ungodly populace was as dangerous to the rights of an enlight-
ened conscience as an ungodly king. Those only were fit to
rule who had in common a lowly reverence for the law of
God, and who would unite in the endeavor to make that law
paramount. The example of separation between things secu*
lar and things sacred in the functions of government had not
yet been witnessed, nor had the possibility of such a separation
entered into the minds of men. Every European sovereign
was virtually the Poniifex MaximuSy and enforced equally
modes of worship and forms of civil order and obedience. All
the abuses under the European governments of which the
Puritans had reason to complain, resulted from the usurpa-
tion of the rightful functions of the church by the state. The
obvious remedy was to reverse that vicious order of things.

•

palfrey's history of KBW ENGLAND.

and to subjugate the state to the church. The fo

which this idea was incorporated into the civil organ izal
of New England was impracticable, except for a short per
and on a limited scale; for it involved the supremacy, notj
conscientious, God-fearing men in the aggregate, but of ti
who had received a certain religious brand, for which somd
the best citizens might well lack the prerequisites, andj
which some of the worst citizens might feign the demanq
conditions. But the idea is none the less sounds and its!
embodiment will mark the culmination of true liberty, ^ — 1
condition in which men shall be free in every direction j
which they shall not find themselves restrained as the servai
of God. Government can approach perfection only in the ^
gree in which the law of God shall be the basis and the liH
of human legislation. j

But while the Puritans were thus of necessity the pioneil
of civil freedom, they were the only religionists who co^
lay any title to this distinction. The Roman Pontiff elaiiii
a civil no less than an ecclesiastical control over the'membi
of the Church which owned him as it« head, and thus 1
Roman Catholic state could regulate its own affairs wii
out the interference of a power, which indeed could wi^
directly but little physical strength, but which was migll
in the factitious thunder of its spiritual censures, and 1
means of them conld command the armies of the faithful!
enforce its behests. The Eogliah Church acknowledged I
authority of the state over the most sacred concerns of I
individual conscience, and was, under the Stuarts, the m<
sycophantic slave of the crown ; while at the same time fj
Romanistic tendencies of the reigning family were so ma]
fest, as .to render the retrogression to Catholicism a 8ubj<
of just apprehension J especially as this had taken place II
disastrously under the first female heir of the house. T
Anabaptists, and the various denominations of sectaries th
were offshoots from the Paritan stock, were more or li
tinctured with an Antinomianism^ whose natural fruit w
anarchy, not liberty. They disowned with greater or H
distinctness the amenableness of the saints to the Dvri
law, and were therefore unsafe subjects of a governmd

1859.]

PALTOBT'S inSTORY OF NEW ENGLAND.

467

which lightened all other yokes that it might sustain the
equable and benignant pressure of that yoke which is perfect
freed oin»

On no score have our ancestors suffered severer reproach,
than on account of their intolerance of religious dii?sent and
their exdusion of dissenters. If there be truth in what we
have said, this policy admits of defence on political grounds,
on the exigencies of public safety. The Puritan settlers were
not numerous or strong enough to cope with an organized
opposition. Of those who were severely dealt with, there
were hardly any who did not invite ofi'ensive measures
against themselves by aggressions against the existing order,
by licentious practices^ seditious speeches^ or open contempt
of the constituted authorities. There were indeed instances
^ fewer than is commonly represented — in which gratuitous
cruelties indicated the odium theologicum^ and our fathers
would not have been men of their century had they been
wholly emancipated from such influences* But in the large
majority of cases the obnoxious religionists were merely sent
back to the mother country, or banished under such penalties
as were deemed necessary to render their exile permanent.
This wa» the right, nay, more, the duty, of the guardians of
our infant republics. They were not in a condition to tempo-
rize, to harbor smothered rebellion, to nourish in their bosom
potential enemies to the rights they had so dearly purchased.
They had not in their body politic sufficient vitality to absorb
and assimilate heterogeneous elements. Surrounded by a
savage foe, poor in the means of defence, they could be
secure only in union. They could safely keep in their so-
ciety only those whom they could make partners. We by
no means assert that they could have themselves offered this
plea. In times of emergency an instinctive perception of
need supplies the place of sober ratiocination ; but what
honest men a*^^ such seasons feel to be right, will generally
bear the test of reasoning, and we believe that, for measures
which have been deemed oppressive, and which in many
minds have left a stigma upon the fathers of New England,
the imminent necessities of their infant state were far oftener
than religious bigotry and hatred the prevailing motive.

1859.]

palfrey's HISTORT of new ENGLAND.

469

England history. That our fathers transcended the outride
limits of mercy in dealing with this heresy, it would be vain
for us to deny; but it must be admitted that the early
Quakers equally transcended the out&ide limits of decency,
and merited whatevv measure of restraint or punishment
should be visited on atrocious breaches of the publio peace,
and violations of all natural and conventional laws of modesty
and reverence. Nor have we any reason to suppose that
the quiet profession of such opinions as distinguished the
followers of Fox and Penn would have been deemed worthy
of any penalty other than the negative one of disfranchise-
ment

The portion of his volume in which Dr. Palfrey will meet
with the severest historical criticism is that which relates
to Roger Williams, whose undoubted integrity of purpose,
purity of life, and services as the founder of a State, have
won for him a traditional sympathy well-nigh universal, and
have been so regarded and represented as to cast deep re-
proach on the memory of the magistrates and divines of the
Bay Colony. The first and essential point, which should
be taken into consideration, is that Williams was not pun*
ished as a Baptist; for he was not a Baptist till several
years after his banishment, Wc find no proof that he was
regarded or treated as a heretic, except in certain matters
in w^hich his religious opinions had a direct bearing on the
authority of the magistrates and the execution of the laws.
His sentence of banishment recites no other charge against
him than his having " broached and divulged divers new
and dangerous opinions against the authority of magistrates,
as also writ letters of defamation both of the magistrates
and churches here." He signalized his entrance into the
Colony by denying the right of the magistrates to punish
"breaches of the first table'* of the Decalogue, namely, idol-
atry, perjury, blasphemy, and Sabbath-breaking, against the
three last of which penalties still stand on the statute-book
of Massachusetts, while perjury is a penal offence under every
known government. He publicly disputed the right of the
colonists to their soil under the King's patent. He taught
that it was unlawful to administer an oath to an unre-

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 183. 40

470 palfrey's history of new England. [April,

generate person, — a doctrine which, so far as it was ad-
mitted, involved judicial proceedings in inextricable embar-
rassment. He urged his church in Salem to renounce all
communion with the other churches of the Colony ; and wheu
they rejected his advice, he withdrew himself from their com-
munion, and also from that of his own wife in the services
of family devotion, inasmuch as she still adhered to the fellow-
ship of the church. This procedure was by no means barm-
less ia a civil point of view, as the church-members were
ipso facto citizens, and his proposed measure was tanta-
mount to a secession of the inhabitants of Salem from the
body politic of which they were a component part. As a
disturber of the peace he was exiled. The sentence, passed
September 3, 1635, was to take effect within six weeks ; but,
as this would have sent him into the wilderness on the verge
of winter, a reprieve was granted him till the following spring.
He made so good use of the liberty thus allowed him in
maintaining the excitement which he had foniented in Salem,
that it was resolved to transport him to England. It was to
avoid this that he took his flight in the dead of winter, incur-
ring the severest hardships and privations. We regret that
the sufferings of so excellent a man should incidentally or by
implication be chargeable upon Winthrop, Cotton, and their
associates ; but it seems to us that by every fair rule of con-
struction they are to be regarded as directly of his own choice.
In a more firmly established community, his erratic course
might have been safely tolerated; but it was certainly at-
tended with no little hazard to the harmony and well-being
of the infant Colony, and was all the more dangerous on ac-
count of his profound sincerity, his undoubted ability, and his
acknowledged purity of morals and ardor of devotional spirit
Nor can we trace any proof that he was regarded with un-
friendly feelings by the magistrates. His subsequent inter-
course with Winthrop was of the most amicable character,
and he never failed to bear honorable testimony to the up-
rightness and personal kindness of his opponents.

Dr. Palfrey, while his sense of historical justice compels him
to join issue with the magistrates against Williams, pays a
hearty tribute to his Christian conscientiousness and excel-

1859.]

PALFREY S niSTORV OP XEW ENGLAND.

471

lerice. He was, indeed, a man whose heart was always right
Ij3 the vehemence of controversy he was never rancorous; a tone
of heavenly sweetness and fervent love pervaded even his in*
vectives and anathemas. Bat antagonism was the native mood
of his intellect ; the oonfiict of minds was his joy ; the thorny
wreath of protracted martyrdom his crown. In the colony he
established he was often at variance — yet never in bitterness
— with hb associates, and with the divers classes of sectaries
who availed themselvea of the freedom of conscience he pro*
claimed. He never laid aside the armor of his warfare. He
w^as at strife even with himself. He was twice re-baptized,
and f^cemed intolerant of repose even in the bosom of the
church he had founded, '* But the vital part of religion never
deserted him. However his theories shifted, he never ceased
to be a single-hearted lover of God and men/*

Oar disciii«sion has postponed our analysis of Dr. Palfrey's
volume. His first chapter is an admirable resnmt' of the phys-
ical geography and natural history of New England, and of
what is known of the history, habits, culture, and condition of
the aboriginal inhabitants. On this last subject he shuns the
romance which has too long environed it, and represents the
Indians as simply ignorant savages, without eloquence, with-
out treasured and traditional knowledge, possessed only of
those rudest arts requisite to bare subsistence, and destitute of
those chivalric virtues which have been ignorantly ascribed to
thera, but of which authentic history bears no record. The
next chapter treats of the early voyages and explorations, con-
taining all that is known of the voyages of the Northmen, and
of the variou.s explorers from Kngland and Southern Europe
who visited or approached our shores. Here, again, there was
room for the author's keen criticism in rejecting the fable which
has incorporated itself with the very few ascertained facts that
connect the Northmen with New England. The Dighton
rock he regards as having been inscribed by Indians, and as
probably the record of a battle ; and, if the depth of the in-
cisions is maintained to indicate the use of iron instruments,
he shows that nothing was known of the rock prior to 1680,
when the natives had been long in possession of the tools
requisite for such an engraving. The round tower at Newport

472

palfrey's history of ITEW ENGLAiro.

[Ap

he is inclined to identify with the mill built by Governor i
nold, and he confronts an engraving of it with that of a m
of similar architectore still standing in Warwickshire, when
the Arnold family are understood to have emigrated. T
third chapter contains a condensed and rapid sketch of t
history of Pinritanism in England, tracing its roots in t
sturdy elements of the English character, and its first fort
puttingsin the Saxon versions of the Bible during the He
tarchy,. Then follows the narrative of the rise of the Scrool
congregation, the annoyances they suffered in their birth-Ian
their fortunes in the Low Countries, and the causes which i
duced the emigration of a portion of them to America.

With the fifth chapter commences the history of New Eq
land colonization. There is no need that we follow any &
thcr the details of the narrative. It includes in their prop
places all the temporary and permanent settlements, to t
date of the confederation of 1643. Once and again the auth
returnn to England, to trace the course of events which iss
in the colonization of Massachusetts Bay, and to relate
incidents of the Civil War in their bearing on Cisatlani
interetsts. What constitutes the most valuable characterii
of the work is this close interlacing of the history of ti
mother country and of the Colonies, — the exhibiting of tl
successive pulsations of the artery of still undivided thoui
rudely lacerated national life across the ocean, — the jux^
position of effects with their nearer and remoter causes.
the same time every portion bears indubitable marks
most thorough lirst-hand investigation. No accessible
of information has been passed by, or partially drained. M
can hardly conceive of any important accession to the materia
which Dr, Palfrey has found and em ploy ed. His work whi
completed must take its place as the classic of New Englai
history, and must so continue till new and eventful chapte
of our political fortunes, to be developed in coming genen
tions, shall crowd our early annals into a narrower compass^

We can hardly anticipate any diversity of judgment as '
the merits of this work* In style, it is above criticism.
bears the trace of no mannerism^ unless the slipshod habits i
recent authorship make careful finish a mannerism. There i

jux^
a. i

of ti

soun

1859.1

PALFBEY'S HISTORY OF NEW ENQLAKD.

473

neither declamation, nor superfluous verbiage, nor impertinent
commentary, but continuous and animated narrative, in sen-
tences so perspicuoaa that the reader's eye is not arrested by
their simple beauty, but looks directly through them to the
ideas or images they present The diction, though never tur-
gid and never dull or careless, adapts itself with easy grace to
the theme in hand, quickens and glows in the recital of heroic
doings and endurings, takes on a keen and subtile edge in the
delineation of character, is compressed and unemphaticin the
necessary enumeration of mere details, and becomes again full
and strong as the main action of the drama is resumed. We
have been perpetually reminded, as we have read this volume,
of Cicero^s definition of the eloquent man, — "Is, qui poterit
parva summisse, modica temperate, magna gTa\iter dicere.' '

Equally unqualified praise is to be awarded to this volume,
for the fairness and impartiality of the narrative. There is
neither indiscriminate eulogy nor wholesale condemnation. In
the portraits of the heroic personages of the history, spots and
defects are given with the same fidelity, which cannot do less
than justice to a single noble trait or commanding feature.
Nor is merited censure left unqualified. There are no marks of
favoritism or enmity in the author's own feelings toward the
men and parties comprised in his narrative ; and this, though
it might seem an essential, is a rare quality in an historian.
Nine tenths of the great histories that have been written are
partisan works, compiled for the special glorification of the
representatives of certain opinions or measures; and in their
construction the past has not been studied for what it could
teach, but ransacked, tortured, and mutilated to furnish pre-
cedents for some present mood of popular feeling or phasis of
political belief, — for authority in an open controversy, or the
confirmation of an individual whim. More entirely free from
this reproach the work now under review could not be, were
the author divested of all human sympathies ; and yet he
evinces perpetually the depth and fervor of his sympathies by
a diction which indicates not only logical accuracy, but the
delicate appreciation and strong inward sense of all that is

ily noble and praiseworthy.

This history is, in the best sense of the word, a philosophical
40*

474 palfrey's history of new England. [April,

history. The author, indeed, does not propound theories, and
then marshal facts so as to confirm and elucidate them. We
have hardly ever read a history which had in it so little of ex-
press and formal philosophizing. But as in physical phenom-
ena, confused as they seem, there are pervading principles and
controlling laws, which need only to be ascertained for the
course of nature to flow in unrippled harmony, so in every series
of historical events there are certain motive forces ^whose rela-
tive direction and strength it is the province of the historian to
develop and exhibit in action. Where these forces are ignored,
we have mere annals ; where they are presented in a didactic
form, we have political or ethical disquisition ; where they are
placed before us in the order and sequences of facts which
they shaped and evolved, there alone we have history worthy
of the name ; and it is only because the underlying principles
of the events included in the narrative have been subjected to
rigid philosophical analysis by the writer, that he is able to
narrate these events in their causes, dependences, and mutual
bearings. We suppose this process to have been most thor-
oughly wrought in the case in hand, because the work itself
manifests its legitimate results without any of its pretence or
ostentation.

Dr. Palfrey evidently regards himself as engaged upon the
most momentous portion of the history of liberty. He does
not consider the settlement of New England as a maritime ac-
cident of the seventeenth century, or the character and fortunes
of the colonists as moulded and directed by their wilderness
experiences. On the other hand, he looks back through ante-
cedent centuries for the providential training of the fathers of
this new empire, and finds the elements of their growth and
enlargement, of their culminating prosperity on the soil of
their first adoption, and of their extended and at times prepon-
derant influence in sister Colonies and States, in the love of
freedom and the fear of God which made them exiles. These
were the constituents of the Puritan character, born of the
word and spirit of the Almighty, baptized in the tears, blood,
and fire of weary martyr-ages, matured in the stress of those
final exigencies, which left our fathers the alternative of moral
and spiritual suicide or self-expatriation. It is these principles

1869.] palfrey's history of new England. 475

and their workings that our author has presented with vivid-
ness and power in every stage of his narrative ; and for this
pious labor no man could be better fitted than one who has
constantly evinced by his own life his determined preference
of the right to the expedient, and the fixed resolve to obey God
rather than man.

We ought not to omit mention of the valuable illustrative
apparatus connected with this volume, in the maps it contains.
First, there is a map drawn expressly for this work, which
presents New England and the peninsula of the St. Lawrence
as far as it was known in 1644, with the positions of the na-
tive tribes, and the names of places then in use. Next we
have John Smith's map of New JSngland, which is valuable
mainly as showing the vagueness of the draftsman's knowl-
edge, and the extent of his ignorance. Finally we have Wil-
liam Wood's map of the southern part of New England, in
1634, which indicates a tolerably accurate conception of the
geography of a portion of the coast, but is in the rudest
possible style of art.

We regret that we have been able to devote so little time
to the analysis of this volume. We delayed the work, in the
hope of procuring it to be well and thoroughly done. The aid
of contributors themselves thoroughly versed in the minutiae
and the recondite lore of New England history will, we trust,
do more ample justice to the succeeding volumes, as they ap-
pear. Till then, we take leave of the author, with sincere
gratitude for what he has given us, and with a keen appetite
for what is yet to come.

476

Art. X. — La Suisse Alkmande et P Ascension du Moe
Par Mme, la Comtease Dora D'Istria. Paris: Joel Chi
biiliez. 1856* 4 vols. 12mo, pp< 1433.

The author of this work on German Switzerland isini
particulars a remarkable person. Her pscudonyrne of
Coratesse D^Istria" hides a higher social rank than that
Countess. Her true title is that of Princess Koltzoff Massabl
to which her lineage might also enable her to prefix the nobl
name of Ghika. In this race of Ghika talent is hereditary,
liberal opinions are known as among its eccentricities; but
daughter of the Grand Ban J^Iichaclj and the niece of the He
podar Alexander seems to have inherited in enlarged measa
the liberalism and the ability of the ruling house ofKoumanj
The natural gifts of a scion of that house have beendevelo
in her case by an education singularly free and complete,
such as probably the daughter of no other European poteii
has received in this age. She is equally versed in the anci
classic tongues, and in the leading dialects of modern Euro
can write with facility and grace in Italism, French, Gerra
and Russian, not less than in her own Wallachian, or in
Romaic speech of her tutor, the famous Pappadopoulod;
familiar with history and legend, with science and politi<
philosophy ; and in the precocity of her genius, as well as tl
variety of her acquirements, fairly rivals the unfortunate daug
ter of the English Dorset. Ascham could find Lady Jaj
Grey reading Plato in the Greek when the rest of the houf
hold were hunting in the forest; but it seems to us mq
worthy of wonder that the young Helen Ghika should dare,
the age of fifteen, to attempt a translation of the IHad m
German. Such tastes are rare in kings' houses. The manii
life of the Princess Massalsky has been diversified by varioi
fortunes, which have enabled her to become personally a
quainted with the principal nations and regions of Europ
She has lived in Russia and in France, in Turkey and in Bi
gium, and is able to describe from personal knowledge tl
scenery and manners of most parts of the Continent H
present and favorite residence, however, is Switzerland ; eq

SWITZERLAND.

177

on tlie banks of the Aar she still pursues her literary labors.
She has published several works, as " Monastic Life in the
Oriental Church,'* " The Roumans and the Papacy," and " The
Heroes of Roumania" ; but hecniost elaborate and character-
istic production is this upon German Switzerland. Here the
vigor of her style, the fulness of her knowledge, the fervor of
her religious sympathies, and the force of her patriotism, ap-
pear in the boldest relief.

The plan of the work is peculiar. It is neither a connected
history, nor a book of travels, nor merely a series of sketches,
but an ingenious combination of history, sketch, and travel,
interspersed with frequent biographical notices and sBsthetic
and polemic dissertations. The principal cities of German
Switzerland are taken successively as the centres of observa-
tion and remark, suggesting historical reminiscences and ap*
propriate reflections. "Constance" and it^ lake bring before
us the tragedy of Huss, and the story of martyrdom in the fii-
teenth century. ** Schaffhausen" is the text of an eloquent
digression on " the battles of liberty " and on the historians of
Switzerland, Miiller and Zschokke, " Zurich " calls up the
forms of Zwingli, Bodmer, Lavater, Pestalozzi, Escher of the
Linth, and Strauss, and the causes identified with these
names, ** Lucerne " and the Lake of the Four Cantons, of
course, introduce the discussion of the religions of Switzer*
land* " Berne " is the heading of a series of chapters on
Mysticism, Popular Romance, Communism, Political Organi-
zation, Fellenberg and his School, Haller and Science, Zim*
hierman and Moral Philosophy, Rodolph of Erlach, and the
Aristocracy, The lake and town of "Thun'' exhibit the
legends and superstitions, the songs and music, of the Swiss
people, ** Grindelwald *' allows a digression upon preaching
and preachers, with special notice of Zollikofer, while *^ Bale "
repeats to us the story of Erasmus and Holbein, of medical,
mathematical, exegetical, and theological learning, and, finally,
of Protestant missions and the Roman Propaganda*

The execution of this curious and comprehensive plan is, on
the whole, excellent The style of Madame D'Istria (for we
prefer to use the musical pseudonyme which she borrows from
her favorite river, rather than the name of Massalsky, as hard

478 swiTZERLAin). [April,

to write as it is to speak) has a rare strength, energy , and
sharpness, — the qualities, indeed, of masculine vnriting. She
has been accused by some, and not without reason, of imitat-
ing George Sand. Though n^ land could offer to a writer so
many temptations to sentimental description, to rapturous out-
bursts of wonder and amazement, she restrains these most rigid-
ly, and even disappoints us by the extremeness of her reserve.
She has comparatively little to say upon the subject which is
most intimately associated in the minds of most persons with
the name of Switzerland. Nine persons out of ten who visit
that land visit it for the scenery, and think of nothing while
they are there but mountains, valleys, ravines, cascades, lakes,
and glaciers. In the glory of this scenery, the men and the
annals of the land are forgotten. Only those legends are re-
membered which are directly connected with the romantic fea-
tures of the country, such as the story of William Tell, — now,
alas ! resolved by provoking critics, Madame D'Istria consent-
ing, into a myth. Switzerland, in fact, in the minds of most
men, is sequestered to this exhibition of Alps. Other nations
have grand mountain scenery, but none at once so various, so
condensed, and so accessible. The Himalayas may be twice
as high, and Ararat may have a wider outlook, but it happens
to very few to reach the Armenian peak or the Indian range.
These lie away from the track of travel. The Lebanon hills
are better known, and modern romance has done something
to turn the feet of tourists towards the mountains of Norway.
But there is only a small part of the year when it is comforta-
ble to travel in these regions, and the scenery alone does not yet
draw a tithe of the crowds who frequent the paths of the Bernese
Oberland. The Alps of Switzerland offer to the most delicate
an unrivalled spectacle of mountain magnificence, with scarce-
ly any loss of comfort. There are good inns, with feather-
beds, on the summits of the high mountains. One may break-
fast on eggs and bacon in the English hotels at Interlachen,
and dine without fatigue on the top of the Wengern Alp,
right opposite to the avalanches of the Jungfrau. Three or
four days' journey by rail will enable tourists from most of the
capitals of Europe to come in front of views which baffle the
imagination by their magnificence. Nowhere else can so

1859,]

SWITZERLzlND.

479

many, so celebrated, and so imposing mountains be s^ucii su
conveniently by so many persons, and in so short a time. The
consequence ia, that this sole interest of the Alps absorbs all
other interests, and one who writes about Switzerland m ex*
pected to make this the principal topic. We are afraid, there*
fore, that many of the readers of the Countess D'lstria's book
will be disappointed, not to say indignant, that she gives so
little space, and spends so little sentiment, on this prime sub-
ject of the Alps and their glory.

With the exception of her account of the ascent of the
** Monk," the companion-peak of the Jungfrau, and only two
hundred and twenty feet less in altitude than its companion,
— ^an ascent of extraordinary difficulty and danger, and never
before attempted, if her statement may be trusted, — her ac-
count of mountain views and mountain climbing seems to us
both meagre and forced* She was fortunate in her experience
on Riglii, The mists were accommodating ; the sunrise was
satisfactory ; there was none of that *' sullen and grim " vexa-
tion, tempest without and grumbling within, which is the
memory that seven eighths of all eager gazers bringdown from
the Bighi Culm ; and no excuse, therefore, for any feeble de-
scription of the marvellous awakening of day upon that moun-
tain. Yet the picture which the Countess gives seems to us
rather mechanically drawn and conscientiously colored than
palpitating with inspiration. She says as little as it is respect-
able to say, and is evidently glad to get down from that height
to a mundane level and to more congenial human topics.
The same remark is true of her descriptions of lake scenery.
They are not picturesque, and they will satisfy neither those
who have nor those who have not seen the fascinating sheets
of blue water embosomed in their hills. The emotions which
the Countess is constrained to express, if not to feel, as she
meets in regular course these grand obstacles of scenery, re-
mind one of the emotion of Dickens at the first view of Niag-
ara, and his mature conviction that this emotion must have
been one of — *' Peace " I

The Countess D'lstria subordinates altogether this interest
of the scenery of Switzerland to the higher interest of its
annals* It is probable that to most English readers her work

(for it has been translated) will lend a new charm to thia
lected portion of history. Comparatively few, we im^
even among diligent readers, have paid much attention U
history of Helvetia. It has not yet been well \^Titten, It
thing for the future. The man is yet to arise, who, bringin
this task scholarship, candor, industry, genius, and symp
with the principle of freedom, shall make of Swiss history i
it ought to be, a story as grand and far-reaching and im
ing as the views from those rugged and enduring mountl
MxUler was great enough for the task, hot he lived a centurj
soon, was seduced from his integrity as an historian by the bt
ishraents of the German courts*, found naturally more scop
his genius in a universal than in a merely national record,:
has only left materials for some more loyal son of the Ian
recast and complete. Zschokke, the adopted child of Helvi
was loyal enough, but did not bring to his historical effort i
philosophical breadth and insight indispensable to a good
tory of such a land. He is an inimitable teller of small stol
but his history, faithful as it is to facts, and humane as
in spirit, is little more than a detail of battles. The woi
Vieusseux, published by Bohn, in 1846, full and compre
sive, has all the dryness of a compilation j it is a book tc
referred to, but not to be read in course. Apart from this
of worthy treatment, Swiss history is dwarfed in its int€
by the narrowness of the theatre on which it passes. It
to be all on a small scale. Its battles, as compared with tl
of the greater nations, are only affrays and skirmishes.
wars are quarrels merely. Its policy seems hardly more
posing than the policy of tribes of Arabs, Still another
son why the history of Switzerland fails of interest lies in
character of those struggles by which it has maintained]
place. Its wars are on so small a scale, that the terrible
sions which have moved thera manifest themselves the nj
painfully. We see continual fratricide in these contesti
neighboring cities and neighboring Cantons. It is no|
much nation against nation, race against race, as bro1
against brother. Hate, vengeance, jealousy, show thei
in these fraternal quarrels in their most malignant for
It is the leading purpose of the Countess D^Istria's bod!

1869.]

SWltZERLAXD.

481

vindicate this neglected history, — to exhibit its importance
and ha essential nobleness. She would show the principles
which in past ages Switzerland has developed, and which it
continues in the present age to represent more fully than any
other Kuropean nation. In doing this she introduces some
irrelevant matter, and presses some resemblances and analo-
gies which seem to us doubtful and inapplicable. As a
patriotic child of Wallauhia, she would identify with Swiss
freedom and the Swiss people the spirit and people of the Bou-
man race. Born in the communion of the Greek Church, she
strives constantly to show that this Church is the friend of
light and the foe of superstition, and to harmonize its dogmas
and practice with the most liberal form of Protestant opinion.
Her sympathies are with the Genevan Church ; yet she holds
tenaciously to the name of the Oriental hierarchy, and sees
in its saints and doctors the prototypes of the modern mar-
tyrs for freedom and the modern champions of progress.

Her treatment of the Koman Church, too^ is far from just.
She omits no chance to expose its frailties, to berate its iniqui-
ties, to ridicule its legends, and to fasten upon it all the evils
which have cursed the land and hindered its progress. In her
eyes, Romanism is the gigantic wrong which blocks the path of
all improvement, and hides in its shadow all the beauty of Eu-
rope* This tone is never mitigated, even when the facts which
are treated would seem to dictate a different one. It is remark-
able that a writer who can appreciate so fully the patriotism
of the Swiss people, and see so clearly how this people repre-
sents the democratic idea, should fail to acknowledge the fact
that it is precisely in the Catholic Cantons that patriotism is
the most vivid, and democracy the purest* In those benighted
regions around the Lake of Lucerne, where the peasantry fre-
quent their ancient altars, confess sins to the parish priest, bow
before images, and keep saints' days in joyous idleness, the
spirit of ancient Helvetia survives most freshly ; there is most
love for vale and hill and forest, and most pride in the name
of Switzer. Romanism there has certainly not extinguished
the love of country.

Here we may remark that a great deal too much stress
is laid by guide-books and tourists on the contrast in

VOL. Lxxxvnt. — NO. 183. 41

482 SWITZERLAND. [April,

Switzerland between the Protestant and Catholic Cantons.
Differences there certainly are. As a whole, the Protestant
Cantons are more enterprising, thrifty, and intelligent than
the Catholic. The people in these Cantons are in better
circumstances, the schools are more numeroas, and there is
possibly a higher morality. Yet these differences are owing
quite as much to situation as to religious faith. The Cath-
olic Cantons, mostly barricaded by mountains, are less favo^
ably placed than the lower lands, within easy reach of a
market. Where the natural opportunities are equal, there
is no very notable inequality in the industrial or moral con-
dition of the people. We distrust the ability of the most
practised expert to tell, by the look of the man, a Catholic
from a Protestant, in the Canton of the Grisons, where the
two communions are mingled in about equal proportions.
Two thirds of the people of St. Gall are Catholics, yet that
Canton has as thriving an aspect as any in the land, —
factories, rich farms, and a people who tell the truth.

Some of the dissertations with which the Countess D'lstria
loads her pages, learned and eloquent as they are, seem out
of place. In the whole of Switzerland, out of a population
of nearly two millions and a half, the Jews number but little
more than three thousand, and these mostly in the single
Canton of Aargau. They are wholly without political in-
fluence, and have no share in that power which constrains
the movements of the chief sovereigns of Europe. Yet the
Countess has chosen to make these Jews a point of departure
for an eloquent harangue about the origin, development, and
humanizing influence of the Jewish religion ; to criticise the
theory of Salvador, that Jesus was fairly condemned ; to vin-
dicate, like Colani of Strasburg, the Pharisees as good patri-
ots ; to predict the future dissolution of the Jewish national-
ity, and the fusion of this race with other races ; and to show
how the various Jewish sects represent modern tendencies
and systems. The Pharisees, in her vicwj are republicans;
the Sadducecs, monarchists; the Essenes, communists; and
the Herodians, members of the foreign party, like the French
^migrSs, at the close of the last century ! In religious opinion,
the Pharisees represent Stoic spiritualism; the Sadducecs,

1859.]

BWITZBRlJiND.

483

Epicurean iiiau'riMJisin ; the Essenes, mysticism; and the He*
rodians, scepticism. All this is very pleasant to read, and
quite ingeniously reasoned, but nevertheless is superfluous
in a work of this kind.

Many of the interesting questions and curious peculiarities
of Swiss history Madame D'Istria barely touches* There is
the singular fact that the most patriotic nation in Europe,
whose legends and proverbs are full of the love of country,
should be the nation moat ready to sell its services and to
expatriate itself for gain. The taunt of the enemies of
Switzerland is, that its sons are found in all the foreign
armies, — that they guard the thrones of despots, and gairi*
son the forts of the oppressors of freedom. You find them at
the Tuileries, at the Vatican in half-harlequin attire, and in
the barracks of St. Elmo. The most famous monument
of modern art in the land, the Lion of Lucerne, is a tribute
to the Swiss who fell in defending the effete monarchy of
France. How is this mercenary spirit, this willingness to
serve in the armies and courts of hostile nations, to be
reconciled with a genuine patriotism? Why should they,
whom a few notes of the " Ranz des Vaches" will send
home deserters to their hills and herds, be willing to forsake
their home for this base foreign dependence ? Why, too, do
educated men, men of science, prefer another land and an-
other dialect? It is easier to ask than to answer this ques-
tion, easier to lament than to deny the fact

Then, too, there is the question of race ^ not only that of
the origin and descent of the Swiss people, a question com-
plicated by the numerous invasions of barbarian tribes, but
that of the equal union of the component races, Italian,
Gothic, Teutonic, Celtic. In Switzerland there is difference
of blood, but no dominant and no subject race ; nothing corre-
sponding to the serf of Russia; and no system of nobility.
All the races, whatever their origin, have equal rights, yet
without fusion. Now it is maintained by our modern politi-
cal writers that this state of tilings is impossible. The Saxon
and the Norman, they tell us, have equalized themselves only
by amalgamation ; the Celt of Ireland can be lifted only by
the same process. A separate race must either be subject

484 SWITZERLAND. [April|

or dominant. Switzerland denies this position most emphati-
cally. Its races are able to live harmoniously side by side,
without amalgamation, yet without the compression of any
form of despotism. In Austria the war of races is hindered
only by the bayonets of the imperial army. The equality
there is that of the beasts in a menagerie, compelled by chain
and cage to refrain from tearing each other. In Canada, the
French and English races consent to the same government,
but the antipathy of blood guides the antagonism of parties,
and there is a constant war of prejudice and of intrigue. But
in Switzerland this consideration seems to enter but slightly
into the movements of parties, and to be far from an influ-
ential cause of local hatreds.

The title of the Countess D'Istria's book suggests another
interesting topic, which may perhaps be more fully discussed
in the works which she intends hereafter to publish on
" French " and " Italian " Switzerland. These terms, Ger-
man, French, and Italian Switzerland, signify not so mnch
difference of national character as difference of language. The
nationality of all is the same. A citizen of Zurich would be
as unwilling to admit that he was a German, as a citizen of
Geneva to admit that he was a Frenchman ; and the case is
hardly less strong with the citizen of Sion, whose speech but
slightly varies from the dialect of the neighboring Sardinia.
All are as truly Swiss as the native of Coire, whose speech is
more ancient and original than any of the rest Switzerland is
an instance of a country in which four separate languages con-
tinue to exist together without fusion, and in which there is no
one national or aristocratic language. The Northern Cantons
speak a dialect of German ; the Western, a dialect of French ;
the Southern, a dialect of Italian ; and in the Eastern, the
curious Romanish still flourishes, with its schools, its news-
papers, and its poets. Even three dialects of this last tongue
may be distinguished. These four languages of Switzer-
land, it is true, are unequally divided, and if numbers were
to decide the weight of influence, German might be called
the language of Switzerland. More than two thirds of the
people speak a Teutonic dialect. The French is the lan-
guage of not more than half a million ; the Italian, of less

'18S9.]

SWITZERLAND.

485

than one hundred and fifty thousand; and the Romaniah* of
fifty thousand. Yet no one of these tongues has rights above
the other. No one of them is reduced to a mere provincial
dialect) which is expected in the course of time to die out and
give way to the superior language. Each in its own place
is a polite tongue, the language of the higher as much as
of the lower classes. In each the laws are published, the
Bible is read, and the news of the day circulated. Each
has the right to a hearing in the assemblies of the Diet,
This is a remarkable fact in the history of free assemblies.
Would the Scotch Gaelic, or the Welsh Cymric, or the jar*
gon of wild Connaught Celts, be tolerated in the debates of
the English Parliament ? The United States allow and pro-
tect a great variety of dialects; but only the English proper
ia recognised as the national speech, and it is expected that
immigmnts will conform to this, if they wish to hold office
or to gain all the rights of citizenship. In Switzerland there
is no such necessity. Here the possibility of a union of states
and races in a strong nationality without a national language
is distinctly proved.

Another thing which the Countess D'Istria perceives and
rejoices in, is the steady development in the history of Swit-
zerland of the democratic idea. Switzerland, in fact, may be
said to preserve this idea in Europe. Switzerland has per-
formed for democracy the service which the convents of the
Dark Ages performed for the Bible, and from its central place
and its mountain heights it holds up that theory of right be-
fore all the oppressed and despairing nations. So long as
this people continues to exist united, prosperous, contented,
without king or hereditary rulers or orders of nobility, to
meet and debate in its primary assemblies, and to sit in
grand council by its freely chosen delegates, the argument
of those who deny that democracy is possible is nullified. It
is easy to say that this democracy is on too small a scale to
prove anything with regard to the larger nations ; that it con-
tinues only through its impotence and insignificance, and by
the tacit permission of the rival empires. Yet this does not
render the fact of its existence less instructive and momen-
tous. If the nation does not maJce show of great material
41 •

SWITZERLAND.

force, it retains a memory which the despots and oligmr
Europe would fain crush out

Do wc pass over the struggles of Switzerland as
cant because the theatre is so narrow, and smile at the I
siasm which would make decisive battles of these moi
encounters? Let us remember that the battles of S\ritzi
have been won for freedom, while the great battles of B
have resulted mostly in the overthrow of popular liberty,
Swiss wars have brought a steady and constant gain fa
dom. Six centuries of strife in Germany have ended I
tually annihilating the idea of democratic governmenl
dividing the land between the houses of Hapsburg and
denburg. Six centuries of strife in Italy have destroys
its proud republics, and left nothing of Venice, Genoa
dena, and Florence but decaying palaces and a dishoj
name. The wars of the Low Countries have given kiij
the free burghers. The tyranny of Louis Napoleon i
commentary on the text of glory which- French vanitj
inscribed on thf? endless walls of the gallery of Versi
The laboratory of a chemist is less interesting to visits
the great factory of a worker in iron. These small ri
and crucibles are insignilieant to one who sees the hug
ginesj furnaces, and rollers, and the hundreds of swarthy <
atlvcs, in the lurid light of the roaring fires. But the f
or the crucible gives forth a nobler product, an unalloyedi
tallic base, a clear crystal, or an elixir of life, while the fui
and hammer and roller only forge chains and bars. The i
fires of Swiss warfare have left their residuum in the i
gold of democracy, while the greater wars of the surrouQ
nations have only shaped and welded fetters and manaclq
the toiling masses.

The democracy of Switzerland is remarkable as a prc^
give democracy, growing more and more *stable, and more
more confident of its idea, as tlie fate of the other nations
seemed to deny the possibility of such a government. H
not been discouraged by the fortunes, more than it has 1
seduced by the theories, of the other nations. The land
never so democratic as it is to-day. Every school-boy of
last generation was drilled to repeat those sonorous line

SWITZERLAND.

487

Byron about, ihe American Republic, preluded by that sad
prophecy of the fate of Switzerland, —

'' If the Ijree Switzer yet bcstridea alone
Ili^ cluunle^s motmtains, *t h hut for a tlmo ;
Fur tfmnny of late has cuniiiog grown,
And in iU own good eeasofi tzamploi} down
The sparkles of our aaboft.*

But what Byron feared has not yet corae to pass, though half
a century has intervened. The old thirteen Cantons have
become twenty-two ; and the last dependency, the Canton of
Neuchatel, has recently thrown ofl' tribute to her liege sover*
eign, and is as free as the rest From three to eight, from
eight to thirteen, and from thirteen to twenty^two, the pro-
gress of these small states has been one of steady enfranchise-
ment. The Bund of these Cantons is as genuine as our own
national league.

Our mention of the " Bund" leads us to remark that Swit-
zerland illustrates the possibility of a purely federative repub-
lic, so often denied by political writers. This assembly of
commonwealths gets along very well without a President,
without an official organ, and without an army of national
oflice-holders. The need of an individual head to strengthen
their union, and to bind their interests, is not felt The Diet
soifices; nor are there any considerable number who wish
even for a ruler of their own choosing. This jealousy of in-
dividual power is one of the healthy symptoms of Swiss de-
mocracy. A people who are afraid of governors will not easily
part with their liberties. It is the fashion of English writers
to represent the Swiss Landsg-emeimie and the Swiss Diet as
a miserable set of intriguers, liars, and rogues, and the whole
system as one of strife, corruption, and the ambitious scheming
of individuals to gain ascendency. But it is a singular fact
that the people cling to these corrupt machines, and that the
ambitious schemes of individuals so rarely succeed. The sep-
arate sets of wheels, which ought, according to the theory of
these writers, to be getting continually out of gear and play-
ing against one another, in some mysterious way turn out
good work, and the people arc satisfied with them, and have
ijo wish to substitute the blessings of Red Tape, the Circum*
locution Office, and the Court of Chancery.

Again, democracy and rationalism are usuaUy supposed
be close and necessary allies. It is said to be impracticall

to preserve liberty where superstition exists ; free institutioj
naturally discard signs and wonders and foolish legends. Y
no land is more tenacious of its popular legends than Switzd
land, and the influence of these is strongest in the most dei
cratic sections. Some of these legends are very ancient^ i
herited from the days of the Pagans and the Druids.
mythology of the Fauns and Dryads lives among the moi
taineers of the High Alps. As the Arabs of the Kidron valli
insist that a dragon hides in the fountain of Siloam ben
Mount Moriah, and controls the flow of its waters, so the pei
ants of Ragatz imagine that the old baths of Pfcffers conci
a demon, and dread at certain hours and seasons to encountlj
his hot breath in that dreadful mountain cleft Dwarfs ai^
giants are articles of the popular creed, especially the formd
The part which these pigmies play in the domestic and socii
economy is sometimes malevolent, but oftener friendly afl
cheerful. They dwell through the winter months in the ca'
ems of the mountains, in the crevasses of the glaciers, in tl
inaccessible gorges, coming forth in the spring to assist tl
farmers, wood-cuttersj and hunters, and to mingle in the spo
of the people. The chamois arc their flocks* Madame D'
tra discovers in the dwarf*stories in which the Bernese O
land abounds, and of which she relates several, the distinct!^
characteristics of the Swiss people. We may give as a
ciroeu the story of the Gutbrunnen shepherd.

** One evening the fochu (a tempest peculiar to Switzerland) id
raging in the Alps. A shepherd and his wife, sheltered ia their cabij
listened with terror to the wiml which shook the heavy stones laid upd
the roof of their chalet to protect it against storms. The good peopj
were pitying fliose who were perhaps caught unawares by the tempd
on some of the distant paths. All at once, in the blue glow of tl
lightning, they see through their whidow a poor dwarf Ijurricd along q
the steep path by torrents of mud and rain, which threatened to sal
merge hia meagre little body* They would readily have called him 1
and offered him a place at their hearth, but the instinctive terror wl
the apparition of a supernatural being produced, chained their tongu^
While they were deliberating, three light blows were heard upon

BWirZERLAXD.

489

thick green glass of the window. The shepherd Uastc»ed to open to
the dwarf, who shivered with cold, and whose long cloak (the long cloak
is the classical costume of the dwarfe) was streaming with rain. Grad-
ually our good people became calmcry though all the time a little fright-
ened ; the sense of the duty of hospitality prevailed, and their behavior
was salisfaetory. The dwarf showed himself ihe more grateful for
thia good reception, as he had just been refused admittance at mor^
than one door by the hard-hearted people of the villnge. He seemed
therefore very much touched by the good offices of liis hosts, although
he did \efy little honor to the coarse repast which they served to him.
For the dwarf, without being a LucuUus, is accustomed to a more deli-
cate fare than that of shepherds* A fiort of tenderno^^ gradually came
into the intercourse ; the dwarf made them lore him by his cordiality,
and appeared to forget completely his superior nature, his vast palaces
hewn ill the heart of the rock, his numerous flocks of graceful chamois,
his supernatural knowledge and his prophetic gift. In vain they tried
to make hini tarry. Dwarfs are very busy- Ho had work, he said, on
the mountain.

** The next day came a storm more furious than the first. The pines
cracked with a frightful sound ; the Alpine echoes repeated the heavy
roar of the thunder ; unchained torrents* whirling along the loose rocks,
dashed themselves against the village and on the fields. The shepherd
and his wife believed themselves lost, when they saw the dwaH^ who
was coming down on the torrent mounted in triumph on a great block
of Stone, stop this before their cottage, and hold it there as a rampart
against the fury of the waters. As to the pitiless villagers who had
shut their doors against him, they all perished in the tempest."

Not less qoaint and curious than these stories of the dwarfs
are the legends of the Christian saints, running back to the
earliest propagation of the Gospel in the land. The story of
St. George and the Dragon has its Swiss version, with a few
variations. The Devil and St. Beatus is a story which every
fboatiuan on the Lake of Thun knows how to telL The life of
this famous saint, though not admitted into the authentic com-
pilations of the Church, has yet been drawn out by the Canon
Murer of Lucerne, in the " Paradisus Sanctorum nelvetiEe
FlorumJ* Wc are informed that he was a native of Britain,
a convert from Druidism, a pupil of Barnabas, and especially
con I missioned by St. Peter to convert the Helvetians and win
for Christ that most desirable land and that proud race of men.

SWrTZEELAND.

Redundant miracles attended his preaching. He journeyed
the lake without a boat, buoyed up by his miraculous* el
impervious to water and woveji by angels. His embarkatS
was the signal for storms to subside* His dwelling wai
cavern in a clifi' of the mountain, the former home of a dragi
whom he expelled with the sign of the cross. The cascf
which still drops from that cave ia in popular belief the \fl|
of a fountain which the saint opened eighteen hundred ye
ago. The adventure of this holy man with the Devil was
this wise. Achates, the companion of Beatus, had charge,
a church of converted idolaters on the other shore of the la
One Easter day Beatus went on his miraculous cloak to j<
in the service; but arriving a little late, and finding the t^
p!e full of worshippers, he was afraid of interrupting the a
mon, and sat down on one of the farthest seats. The b<
was intense, the audience dull, and the good saint was soandl
ized at seeing all the members of the congregation gradual
fall asleep, one after another. While he was sadly musing
this culpable indifference, he spied Satan under the pulpit,
horns, tusks, claws, and all, — his left foot on his right k
a crow-quill in his hand, busily writing down on a skin
names of the unlucky sleepers, who were thus unconscio
endangering the salvation of their souls* Anxious as he
to wake them, he feared to commit the mortal sin of int
rupting the sermon* The Devil kept on writing, filled hie n
ister full, and had more names yet which he had not room
put down. He then tried to stretch the skin on which he vi
writing and get more room, pulling it with his teeth and clai3<
but in his Satanic zeal he pulled so hard that he knocked 1
head against the pulpit. At this mishap Beatus could ^
contain himself* He burst out laughing ; the laugh waked
the people, and they all bad time to say Amen to the serm^
The Devil was foiled, and took himself off. But Beatus 1|
his boat, for the magic property of his cloak was now
stractcd, to punish him for interrupting public worship,
laugh saved the people, but it compelled the saint to go
foot ever after. He lived, says the legend, to the age of nin

This curious story of St. Beatus is only the most ancienti
the sacred legends which linger in the Alps?. Other li

18S9.]

SmTZEKLAXD.

491

have left far more respectable memorials. The Abbot Gallus,
who came from lona in the seventh century, taught the tribes
around the Lake of Constance how to plough and sow, as well
as how to read and pray. He not only exterminated the wild
beasts of the thickets, but tamed the passions of the savages,
and made of that region a centre of light in the Dark Ages.
From the manuscript treasures of the convent which he found-
ed modern learning has drawn large supplies. The shrine of St.
Columbanns, near the head of the St Gothard pass, is more
than a sign of superstition ; it is a tribute to a really noble
benefactor of the land. Tlie Swiss saints are mostly patriots,
and a merely anchorite life hardly entitles one in this land to
popular reverence. Nicholas von der Flue, the pious hermit,
who in 1481 made peace between the wrangling confederates,
for that noble service fairly shares the honor paid to St. Bea-
ton. In the homes of Untenvalden and Schwytz they love to
tell of his charities. In the council-houses of Sarnen and
Stanz, the free citizens wonder at the rude pictures of this
holy man, and the parish church of Sachslcn has the dreadful
treasure of his skeleton, the bones hung with voti%^e offerings,
aod the place of the hc^art supplied by a jewelled cross.

By far the most remarkable memorial of the ancient super-
stitions in Switzerland is the Abbey of Einsiedeln, in the
Canton of Bchwytz. While most of the convents in the
German section of the land have disappeared, or their build-
ings have been transferred to other uses, this still retains its
sanctity and its attraction. After repeated burnings, its walls
have risen in larger magnificence, and the immense wealth
which it has relinquished to plunderers has not yet made it
poor The annual number of pilgrims is on the average one
hundred and fifty thousand* From fifty to a hundred monks
dwell within its walls. The origin of the convent is obscure,
and very few of those who go to worship the little black and
ugly Madonna, which stands in its marble shrine near the door
of the church, have any idea how it came there. They only
believe in its powerful protection, remember how it caused the
heretics to fall, how it has healed diseases, and how it has
brought to their land a marvellous gain in traffic, as well as in
the favor of the Virgin. Indeed, half the industry of Schwytz

492

ewrrzERLAiin),

goes to sopply the wants of this village of inns and di
shops, Einsiedein is a monastery, surrounded almost wh
public houses, to the number at least of fourscore ; and fei
the visitors escape, in their stay before the sacred waits, <
intoxication than that of pious rapture*

If the Protestants of Switzerland reject these legends
slight these shrines of the ancient C^hurch, they show bit
less zeal in their regard for the memory of the Refora
They make pilgrimages to Wildhaus, a little village ia
mountains beyond Appenzell, to see the old cottage wi
Zwingli was born. No altar could be more religiously ci
for; Under the church-tower at Sennwald in the Grisooi
shown, in a coiEn with a glass lid, the dried body of a Prd
tant soldier of the baronial house of Hohen Sax, who, fl
escaping from the massacre at Paris, was murdered by^
nephew in his native land; and the story is frequently 1
in their churches of the curse of God which came upon
family of the murderers for their crime, and how the Ronii
ists once stole these venerable relics, knowing them to-
more potent than the bodies of their own false saints. <
match the reverence which the Catholics of Soleure pa^
the chapel of St, Verena, where the finger-prints of the yoj
maiden still remain in the rock, sho%ving how desperately i
resisted the Devil, who sought to carry her off, the Protest^
of Berne go out to the tomb of Madame Langhaus at Hind
bank, to wonder at the sculpture of Nahl, which presents 1
mother and child rising to glory, and to read the epita
which Haller wrote. In the museums, the autographs of i
Reformers are prized as highly as the bones of the saints)
the churches ; and the story of the holy wars is handed d
from one generation to another in the families of the
antry, as that of Brian Boru and of Cromwell and his troo]
in the nursery tales of Ireland.

Equally remarkable with the prevalence of this su
tious regard for names, places, saints, and supernatural I
ings in so democratic a land, is the fact that in Switzerla
there is a sort of hereditary aristocracy of learning. Scieij
and scholarship in theology, in medicine, in philosophy, i
handed down from father to son through many generattol

SWITZEBLAND.

493

The first Buxtorf was but the patriarch of a long line of
desceudanti^, who for more than two centuries occupied and
)rified the field of Hebrew letters. Five of the family of
retatein have made that name illustrious in Biblical scholar*
ship. The history of mathematics records no instance like
that of the Bernouilii family, no less than eight of whom
attained to the highest European celebrity. The four sons of
Euler sustained well by their acquirements and labors the
honorable name which their father gave them. tFacts like
these quite refute the notion, that in a popular government
genius cannot be transmitted by race, and that the sunshine
and privilege of aristocratic society and patronage are needed
to foster it. No despotic land can show a parallel to these
instances, and even constitutional England can rarely boast
of more than two generations of learned men in the same
family, Newton founded no dynasty. Bacon left no race
to pursue his opened way to knowledge. And it is chroni-
cled as a singular circTimstance, that two first-class statesmen
should bear the name of Pitt, and two great astronomers be-
long to the family of Herschel. Such cases as these are the
rule, rather than the exception, in the little republic of Swit-
zerland.

This leads us to allude to the distinguished part which
Switzerland has borne in the progresp of ideas in religion,
education, moral reform, and practical science. The pioneers
of the Reformation, John Huss and Jerome of Prague, were
martyred on its soil ; and it claims as its own the confessors
of whom recreant Bohemia is not worthy. Before Luther
nailed the theses on the doors of the Wittemberg church,
young Zwingli had preached at Einsiedetn and Zurich against
the assumptions of the priesthood, and the false dogmas which
kept the masses in fear. It was the alliance of the hierarchy
with arbitrary power which first aroused the Swiss Reforma-
tion. Even Catholic Lucerne took part in that movement
which led Berne and Zurich to expel from their boundaries
the man-stealers, the ** dealers in slaves,'* as they called the
men who coaxed, bribed, or hired the sons of Switzerland
to serve in the armies of foreign kings. Zwingli, in bis
preaching, was more consistent and radical than the German

494

SWItZERLAKD,

monk. He saw the extent of his principles, and he was
ing to go as far as he saw. Protestants are but just begin
to do justice to the mati who, of all the Reformers, was
honest, most unselfish, and most humane* In his contio'
aies, he had the advantage of his opponents as well in rei
as in taste and temper. His views upon faith, upon the '.
charist, and upon the Scriptures, were those which the i
jority of Protestants now prefer to the views of Luther; i
the counti^men of ZwingU were far more ready to adopt
radical opinions, than to stop with the Lutheran compromil
From the Reformation to our own day, the progress of re
ious ideas in Switzerland has been steady, healthy, and
from those oscillations and extravagances which have marl
the religious history of France and Germany, The Cath
Church has been growing more liberal, until Jesuitism is fs
driven out from its former strong-holds* Genevan Orthod
has become less rigid. The faith of Servetus is now preac
from the pulpit of Calvin, and the magistrates listen. Bvi
zerland offers a home to any who are persecuted for conscieni
sake. De Wette, the rationalist critic, banished from Prusi
for the crime of visiting a friend in prison and preparing hi
for his fate, finds a welcome in the city which protect
Erasmus three centuries before. Strauss, the daring thi
logian of Tiibiiigen, is invited by the council of the Ztiri
University to teach theology where Lavater preached so |
cently the doctrines of the Reformed Confession. This hod
tality to heretics, however, does not imply a general sympatj
with rationalist ideas. These men are welcomed because tb|
are exiled, not because they hold and teach eccentric opinioij
The Swiss as a people are practical and positive, not easi
interested in speculations or captivated by neology. Socif
ism is not agreeable to them ; nor is their long-established ^
mocracy of a kind to fraternize with the wild theories of tl
Parisian communists, or the Red Republicanism of the Italii
patriots. The Protestantism of Switzerland is evangelics^
while it is liberal; and it holds fast to the old landmarks I
faiih, while they stand, though it has no fear of any scrutiij
of their foundations* The preaching in the churches of
zerland to-day, not only in Geneva, but in the cities less c

1869.]

evrnzKRLAND.

495

liberal, represents fairly, as we have heard it, the average sen*
timent of the pulpit of Boston. If Switzerland be not in the
van of theological speculation in Europe, it is certainly in the
iU of reasonable religious liberty. If its universities do not

irtle the world by their theories, neither do they shame truth
by reactionary tendencies and concessions to power, as some
in Germany have done. All that is gained is held*

The services, too, which Switzerland has rendered to the
cause of popular education, cannot be estimated too highly.
The chapter which the Countess D'Istria devotes to the un-
dertakings of Pestalozzi is one of the best in her book, though
too short for the theme. The name of Pestalozzi is one which
all philanthropists delight to honor. If he failed as a practical
teacher, the idea which he proclaimed and sought to realize
was accepted as a revelation, and now no other theory of
education is defended in any free land. This native of Zurich
it was who called men to see that education is not merely a
communication of knowledge from without, or a process of
drill, but a development of native faculties, a drawing out of
the soul's powers, — the process of teaching one to think for
himself, to investigate, and to acquire. He it was who an-
nounced the strange theory that the children of the poor have
the same right to education with those of the rich, that knowl-
edge is as good and as natural for the peasant as for the
prince, and that it is safer to instruct the lower classes than
to keep thern in ignorance. The Orphan Houses of Europe
and America are responses to this assertion ; and the stately
walla of such a foundation as Girard College, sustained by
public sympathy no less than by private munificence, repeat
the experiment of the farm at Neuhof which the authorities of
Switzerland refused to sanction. The school in that old cas-
tle at Yverdun was the first normal school of this century, —
a normal school not only for Switzerland, but for all Europe*
And it is safe to say, that no romance of the last or the present
century, however much read, has had such influence in the
determination of public policy, as the obscure romance of
" Leonard and Gertrude," in which Pestalozzi first published
world. The book has passed out of knowl-
n countless

496

SWITZERLAND,

I mm

mons, articles, and discussions in every Protectant nat
Switzerland did not originate the common school ; bill

was reserved for Switzerland, that ignorant and benigl
land, as it is called by English tourists, to show the wl
what common schools ought to be, and to proclaim the ^
scope of their beautiful idea. The tomb of Pest
rightly constructed in the form of a temple.

Hardly less honorable than the name of Pestalozzi ii
of Fellenberg, the Swiss agricultural teacher. His exp
at Hofwyl, commenced sixty years ago, suggested what
passed into a settled practical conviction, that agri
and science assist each other, that knowledge helps the fan
as much as the preacher, and that this earliest profession
the human race may be taught as an art, and relieved t
its disgrace of mere servile drudgery. The quaking mcH
which he reclaimed proved to sceptics that his theories
not chimerical J and that scientific farming is better tl
mere routine of tradition. Now in foreign universities
are chairs of agriculture; "farm schools" are not mei
penal colonies ; rich men bequeath their estates for the eda
tion of tillers of the soU ; the force of invention is appUecl
agricultural improvements; and the machines for plaotj
and ploughing, mowing and reaping, the hundred agriculti|
newspapers, and the pedestrian tours which young men tl|
to observe soils and woods and the growth of crops, are \
isBue of the farmers' school which the Bernese enth
founded.

To these names posterity will doubtless add the'
of Guggenbiihl, whose school for idiots on the Abend
is well worth the ascent from Interlachen, No country su^
so much from the frightful disease of cretinism as Switzerlaj
To restore this class to reason is one of those labors wit
require a patience and skill almost superhuman. Dr. Gugg|
biihl, if he shall succeed in his enterprise, will entitle birai
to a reverence greater than that which St. Beatus hold»i
the region of Unterseen. His miracles will be more auth(
tic and to better purpose. The idiot has not the same pi
lie honor in Switzerland that is paid in Moslem landai
the half-witted dervish. Rather is he treated, like the leg

are \
thasi

1869.]

SWITZBBLAND.

497

at Zion's gate, as a nuisance and an encumbrance^ wliose
death will be relief, as his fonn aud features are ever repul-
sive,

SnnaH as Switzerland is, it contains probably a larger pro-
portion of the marvels of practical science, the triumphs of
engineering, than any other land* One w^ho would see to
what perfection road-making can be brought, must study it
in the grades and curves, the galleries and tunnels, of the
three great highways of the Simplon, the St> Gothard, and
the Splugen. The whole of America has no avenue, even
on the plain, w^hich can be compared for evenness, solidity,
durability, or beauty, to either of these mountain roads. The
traveller who passes along them finds his awe at the wild
and wonderful scenery divided by his amazement at the
equal wonder of these grand constructions. The successful
bniidiug of these roads has been the ground of assurance to
the later railways in their mountain lines; but the passage
of the Via Mala by an even carriage-road is, to the eye at
least, an engineering feat which no railway has equalled*
In bridge-building, too, Switzerland exhibits masterpieces.
Among all the curiosities of Berne, — its minster portal, its
curious clock-tower, from which puppet-bears come out in
procession, its lines of quaint arcades, its arcfas&ological and
zoological museum, its magnificent hospital, its vast prison,
and the Alpine panorama displayed before its platform, ^ —
nothing is so admirable as the bridge which spans the Aar,
and brings the once inaccessible promontory to a level with
the surrounding country. This bridge of three arches only,
the central one being a hundred and fifty feet wide, is nearly
a quarter of a mile in length. The suspension bridges at
Freyburg arc even more extraordinary, as marvels of lights
ness, grace, and strength. Every workman upon the bridge
of the Sarine, the longest finished suspension bridge in the
world, was a native of Switzerland, and only one of them had
ever before seen a work of the kind. All the material, wood,
stone, and iron, was produced by the laud itself. After twenty-
five years of constant use, that bridge remains as firm as on
the day of its opening. In the bridge over the Gotteron, the
ingenious construction is still more remarkable, the native
42»

498 SWnZBBLAHD. [J^fB^

rock being made the substitute for artificial piers, and the
chains bolted directly to the sides of the cliff.

To such works of practical science as these "we might add
the terraces, staircases, and constructions to ivard off aTi-
lanches, which have from time to time been erected in the
mountain regions. These are all monuments of native
skill and enterprise. Switzerland has borrowed but litde
foreign capital to complete these splendid achievements
They belong to the soil, and every citizen feels that he has t
right in them, — as much as he has in the rivers which ibej
defy or the hills which they conquer. They are the tokens
that he has subdued his savage land to obedience. The
other nations of Europe show the triumphs of engineering
in forts, walls, and dockyards, the defences of royalty. The
Switzer shows them in the works which secure freedom,
facilitate movement, release the walled cities and castles
from their isolation, and bind the various parts of the land
to one another. These roads and bridges are guaranties
of union. The Spliigen is the spinal column of the Canton
of the Grisons; the St Gothard is the ligature between
German and Italian Switzerland, which allows a common
flow to the twin currents of their national life ; and so long
as the Siroplon shall endure, the Catholic of the Valais will
feel himself a brother to the heretic of Geneva.

In the history of Art, as that term is usually applied,
Switzerland has certainly not a great deal to boast. Its
architecture, whether of cathedral, castle, or cottage, is not
usually striking, and those pleasant toys which travellers
bring away are very flattering counterfeits of the homes of
the peasantry. The tastes of the people do not encourage
the collection of great galleries of paintings, or the erection
of costly and imposing piles for church or palace. The Art
of the land is democratic, and is manifested chiefly in works
of a homely and practical kind. The artistic genius of
Switzerland is represented by Holbein, and in the numerous
<* Dances of Death," which were painted on church windows
and on the walls of cemeteries, and hung upon the covering
of bridges, — works of a grotesque, plebeian, and iconoclastic
character. Yet in landscape painting Switzerland has con-

■

tribated a full share to Earopean art * Solomon Gessner,
John Gaspard Fiissli, and Liouis Hess produced work» of
permanent value in this department. The CounteBs D'Istria
seems to think that the living painters of Switzerland will
compare favorably with those of any nation. ** What names,-'
exclaims she, in a transport of admiration, "more distin*;
guished than those of the Calamea, of the Roberts, Leopold
and Aurelius, of the Lugardons, the Girardets, the Hornungs,
the Grosclaudes, the Gleyres ? Every day the canvas of
these painters shows to all Europe, that the arts have no
more need than has science of the protection of absolute raon-
archs, and that free institutions favor every kind of progress
in genius and human intelligence" We may be excused

for confessing our own ignorance of some of these names,
and for believing that their fame is rather provincial than
cosmopolitan. The evidence aflforded by Swiss art, whether
In the past or the present, seems to us not ample enough to
warrant the defiant boast of the Countess, The great historic
scenes of Switzerland, not less than its magnificent landscapes,
are left mainly to foreign artists. It is the German Lessing
who has glorified the trial and the death of Huss upon the
canvas, and Switzerland owns, so far as we know, no re-
spectable portrait of this martyr. The bust of Lavater is
by the German Dannecker ; and the Dane Thorwaldsen was
hired to carve the sleeping lion on the rock of Lucerne, The
popular taste shows itself, w^e must sadly admit, in those
fearful daubs at Altdorf and Stanz, which consecrate the
exploit of Tell and the frantic oath of the three confederates,
German Switzerland is poor in art-treasures. With the ex-
ception of a few private collections in B&le, it has very little
painting or sculpture worthy of mention.

If there are few eminent Swiss painters, there is no lack of
eminent Swiss poets. If Haller, of Berne, were not known
as one of the great lights of modern science, his poetic merits
would have more honor. He belonged by intellect, by insight,
and by the variety of his knowledge, to the same order of
minds as Bacon and Goethe; but his comprehensive genius
could not smother the fire of his patriotism. His verses, like
those of our own Whittier, are consecrated \o the cause of

500 swrEZEBLAiH). [April,

freedom and of his aative land. He wrote in the High•Ge^
man tongue, and not like the editors of the later Alpenrosen^
in the provincial patois. His Elegy on the Death of his Wife,
of which the Countess D'Istria gives a French prose trans*
lation, is surpassed by no German poem. His friend G^essner,
of Zurich, was hardly his inferior in thb divine art. The
verses of John von Salis, sometime captain of the Swiss
Guard at Versailles, have all the fancy of Moore, all the mel-
ancholy of Cowper, and all the ring of Campbell's pride of
country. Who does not know by heart that beautifol ^ Song
of the Silent Land," as it has been rendered by Longfellow ?
Kuhn, Usteri, Wyss, Meissner, Haffliger, and Gluta, are less
known beyond the borders of their land ; but their own coun-
trymen are eloquent iu their praise. These scholars and
pastors, writing in the dialect of the people, writing about the
national hopes and sufferings, about the natural and bistoiie
glories of the land, have won a place in the heart of the na-
tion which needs no voice from abroad to confirm it. Usteri
is the Burns of Switzerland ; and these contemporaries, the
merchant of Zurich and ganger of Dumfries, have in their
lives, as in their verse, many points of resemblance.

If Switzerland has in Usteri its Bums, it has in Bitzius its
Scott In number, in variety, in exquisite pictures of scenery
and manners, in sympathy with the joys and woes of his
brethren, the romances of the Swiss vicar fall but little behind
those of the Wizard of the North. They want only that his-
torical pomp which accompanies the stories of Scott They
are pictures of still life, of domestic love, of simple virtues
and primitive purity. They are thoroughly national, and can
no more be translated than the works of Dickens. The
" Tales " of Zschokke, on the other hand, have a European
reputation, which those of Topfer, of Geneva, are fast ap-
proaching. Switzerland, indeed, is a land of story-tellers, who
keep, by their inventions, the democratic fires alive. In the
hundred or more newspapers published within its borders, a
considerable space is given to fictions which connect the life
of the people with its legends, and interpret the meaning of
the lake, and mountain, and glacier. Nearly all these stories
have a political bearing, and though many of them favor

order, and oppose radicalism, none of them teach the dogmas
of arbitrary power.

The light literature, too, of Switzerland, has encourage-
ment, and the democratic spirit finds support in the very
numerous societies and clubs which bring the people together.
We are surprised that the Countess D'Istria has failed to
notice this interesting feature of Swiss social life. If book-
shops are less frequent in the Swiss than in the German cities,
reading societies abound. There are societies for the diffusion
of useful knowledge; travelling lyceums, which go from city
to city and from Canton to Canton ; lodges of various kinds,
literary and scientific ; — all self-supporting and indifferent to
government patronage. These lodges and clubs, not less than
the military clubs and the unions of ** sharp-shooters," include,
in one way or another, most of the young and middle-aged
men of the better class in the land. Some of them have fine
libraries and cabinets. Benevolent societies, moreover, keep
foil pace with these literary societies ; and the treatment of
prison discipline, pauperism, and vagrancy, by associated ac-
tion, is as common in Switzerland as in New England,

The Countess D*Istria dl/^creetly glides over the subject of
Swiss music. That is a sore point for a critic to touch. It is
impossible for an educated musical ear to enjoy that hollow
falsetto, that noisy imitation of echoes, which makes the char-
acteristic idea of Swiss melody. We know that Swiss
Families, and Swiss Bell-Ringers, have secured in their wan-
derings over land and sea a wide popularity, and that every
one supposes the Switzer to be a natural singer; but we have
not found evidence in the land itself that the soul of music
has adequate expression. The great organ of Aloys Moser
discourses in the Freyburg Cathedral such unearthly har-
monies,— such thunders and w^hispers of the mystic world, —
as no organ in the world may reach ; yet the music which
flows from its opened valves is not that which delights the
ears of the people, or which was arranged by native composers*
There is no science which can adjust to grand measures the
famous " Ranz des Vaches," or make of it such a national
anthem as the " Marseillaise " of France, or the " God save
the King'* of England. The strain here is but little more

502 swrrzBRLAND. [April,

dignified than the American national air, which patriotiNn
may rejoice in, bat music utterly rejects.

Many other topics might be addcKl in proof of the rich ma-
terial which Switzerland offers to a discriminating and com-
petent writer. We might instance the shelter which it has
given to the oppressed of all nations, from Arnold of Brescia
to the refugees of the last revolution. We might dwell upon
the fact, that this free republic can sustain its freedom with-
out standing armies, either in the separate Cantons or in the
federal union ; that it is a nation of soldiers, ready to come
forth at a moment's warning, yet without the annoyances of
camp or garrison. We might refer to the war of the Sonder-
bund, which broke the last hope of despotism in the land
We might catalogue the names of the preachers, physicians,
and naturalists who have illustrated this country at foreign
courts and in foreign universities, — such names as Bodmer
and Breitinger, Zimmerman and ZoUikofer, Guyot and Agas-
siz. We might speak of those efforts of the Protestant " Prop-
aganda" which have gone out from the Mission House at
Bale. We confidently repeat, in conclusion, that the history
of Switzerland, when written as it ought to be, will be the
great work of modern literature. This land has been chosen
by many as the retreat of learned leisure, or as the fit retire-
ment in which the history of other countries might be mastered.
Gibbon wrote on the banks of Lake Leman, in sight of the
snowy Alps, the story of the Decline and Fall of Rome. In
another age, some peer of Gibbon shall tell, from some similar
home in this paradise of beauty, the story of the land which
before his eyes has transmitted the freedom of departed Rome,
and given the elements of growth and strength to the coming
generations.

1859.] caklyle's life of Frederick the great, 503

AuT. XI- — ^ 1 . History of Friedrich the Secand of Prussia, called
Frederick the Greai. With Portraits and Maps, Vok. L
and 11. London: Chapman and HalL 1858.

2. The same. New York ; Harper and Brothers. 18o8. pp.
485, 540.

" First review your book, and then read it" was Sydney
Smith's maxim. We arc inclined to believe that a large mass
of inquirers, who wish to know more than they do already of
Frederick the Great, will, in the spirit of this maxim, content
themselves with such digests of Mr, Carlyle's volumes as they
can find in English or American periodicals. The fauU is less
with the reader than with the wiiter. We can scarce name a
more attractive subject for the historical student, than the rise
to power of the Prussian monarchy, — a more remarkable study
of human character, than in the early trials and training, the
matured manhood, the ambition, the reverses, the splendid
success, and the indomitable will of Frederick ; and we regret
that a work devoted to such a theme — a work from one of
the greatest of English minds — should exhibit features sure
to repel a multitude from its perusal. For our own part, we
have carefully read Mr, Carlyle^s book, and have read it with
admiration not unmixed with displeasure. We must utterly
dissent from his judgment of Frederick William, the brutish
father of the great warrior ; and, fascinating as the work is
upon the whole, we must enter our protest against its pre-
vailing style, .

We know that it is useless to quarrel with Mr. Carlyle on
this last score ; there will be no amendment for the future ; it
is a style which we should be quite unwilling to dispense
with altogether; but it is at the same time inimitable and
unworthy of imitation. It is Carlylese "crazed beyond all
hope" ; and in portions of the work, those especially treating
of the rise of the Hohenzollern family, we have experienced
intolerable vexation for want of a simple, direct narrative.

The two volumes already published serve but as an intro-
duction to the life of Frederick the Great as king. They
trace the growth of the state of Brandenburg from early bar-
barism through electoral dignity to monarchical power. Of the

504 carlylb's lifb ov vrbdkrick the gbxat. [April,

numerous characters introduced, from petty counts to despotic
kings, four particularly claim our attention, to the exclusioa <rf
others, our limited space forbidding a wider sweep of historic
revision. These four personages, who all acted important parti
in their time, are Frederick William of Brandenbni^, tbc
Great Elector, and the real founder of Prussia's might; his
son Frederick, who in 1700 was crowned the first of her line
of kings; his grandson Frederick William, the coarse and
savage tyrant ; and his great-grandson, Frederick 11^ who after
a training of unparalleled severity displayed those qualities of
commanding intellect which won for him the title of Grreat,
and sustained him unconquered and undismayed through
seven years of war with the combined powers of France,
Sweden, Saxony, Austria, and Russia. We cannot follow in
detail Mr. Carlyle's history of Brandenburg and the Hohenzol-
lerns ; how Henry the Fowler, A. D. 928, ^ marching across
the frozen bogs, took Brannibor, a chief fortress of the Wends,"
and became the first of note among the Margraves of Bran-
denburg ; * how, in 1142, wrested from Henry the Lion, it was
given by the Emperor Conrad IH. to Albert the Bear, with the
Electoral dignity ; how Albert improved his fief, and built Ber-
lin ; how, with the extinction of his lineage, the fief escheated
to the Empire, and was in 1323 presented by the Emperor
Louis IV. to his son Louis, who married Margaret MauUascke,
heiress of the Tyrol, and who defeated the attempt of the
Emperor Charles IV., in 1347, to reunite it to the Empire ;
how, under Louis II., in 1356, the Golden Bull, promulgated
as the fundamental law of the Germanic constitution, declared
the seventh vote in the Electoral CJollege to be for ever the
hereditary right of the Brandenburg Margraves ; how the ter-
ritories were sold, in 1365, by Otho V., to the Emperor Charles
IV., who gave them to his heir Wenceslaus, on whose acces-
sion they were transferred to his brother Sigismund; how
Sigismund became in turn Emperor, sold them to Frederick,
Count of Hohenzollern, the first Elector of his race, and an*

• *«Thi8 of Markgrafii (Gro/i of tlie Blarches, marked Placet or Bonndariei) wm
a natoral inTention in that state of drenmstanoes. It did not qoite originate with
Henry, bat was much perfected by him, he fint recognising how essential it was." —
Cahltlb*s F)rtderiek IL, Vol. I p. 56.

1869.1

CAKLYLE'S LIFE OF FBEOERICK TBS GREAT.

505

ccBtor of the royal line of Prussia ; how the family adopted
tlic Lutheran faith in 1539, and in 1618 John Sigismund, be-
ing the ninth Elector, inherited the Duchy of Prussia j how
the reverses of the Thirty Years* War fell upon the imbecile
George William, the tenth Kurfiirst, whose disasters were
finally repaired by the genius of Frederick William, the elev-
enth and Great Elector.

Frederick William, this eleventh of the series of Electors,
on his accession, at the age of twenty, found his country at
" about the nadir-point of the Brandenburg-Hohenzollern his
tory/' His territories had been utterly overrun and devastated
during the progress of the Thirty Years' War ; his father doing
nothing and suffering much. To remonstrances, messages, and
consultations in the mid»t of his troubles, the father appears to
have returned but one answer: " Que faire? ils ont des canons,"
— **What can one do? they have got cannon," Brandenburg,
overrun by numerous hostile armies, was pillaged in turn by
each, and the imbecile Elector in despair retired from the scene
of strife, and shut himself up in Ciistrin. Meanwhile, each
army, French, Swedish, or Austrian, trying to starve oat the
others, swept the land with fury. The Emperor's troops, living
generally without commissariat, and often without pay, visited
on the unhappy seat of war, whether at peace with its rulers
or not, all the horrors of siege and battle. Ail Germany was
racked and torn in pieces, and Brandenburg especially beheld
its cities and towns sacked, its villages burned, its people
!.olaughtered, its fields laid waste, and all these atrocities fol-
lowed by such dire famine, that, in 1638, when the Swedes
were starving out the Imperialists in the northwestern por-
tions of the countr}^ human flesh was eaten, and men and
women murdered and devoured their ow^n children. When
the young Frederick William came to the command, he found
his situation one that might dismay a veteran hero; but he at
once manifested high qualities of valor and prudence. lie
could place no confidence in his counsellors or Ms captains ;
he was obliged to act with extreme dexterity to avoid offence
to dominant powers ; his father's prime minister, Schwartzen-
berg, was devoted to the interests of Austria, and supposed
even to be in the pay of the Emperor ; and at his own acces-

VOL, LXXXVIIl. — NO. 183. 43

506 CARLTLS'8 LIFB OF FBEDEBICK THB QBSAT. [Apd,

8ion the very commandants of his fortresses took no heed of
his orders, the commandant of Spandau ia particular telling
him that he must in the first place obey bis Hapsburg master.
With extraordinary tact and talent he set warily to work to
emerge from these difficulties, yet to maintain peace with
Sweden and Austria; by degrees he raked together small sums
of money for a revenue ; by degrees he organized a body of
soldiers to fight for him, and, what was better, to obey him.
Little by little he advanced, gaining strength from experience,
at times moving apparently in a circle, yet keeping his front
steadily all the while to one object. His army gradually in*
creased to twenty-four thousand of the best drilled troops in
Europe ; but long before they reached half that number, be
iiad cleared his territories of foreign armies. By the peace of
Westphalia in 1648, he acquired part of Pomerania and the
rich ^^ secularized " bishoprics of Halberstadt, Minden, and
Magdeburg. At a later date, 1666, Cleve, Mark, and Bavens-
berg were assigned to him. He was essentially a man of
peace, but a stern fighter when forced to take up arms. He
was unwillingly dragged into the Polish- Swedish war (1655
- 1660) ; but once engaged in it, he won honor and solid ad-
vantage. He fought at first on the side of the Sweclish mon-
arch, Karl Gustav, the grandfather of Charles XII. ; but after
the battle of Warsaw he saw fit to change his alliance and
join John Casimir, who, in return for this service, agreed to
give up Poland's right to the homage of East Prussia, — an
agreement confirmed by the peace of Oliva, made near Dant-
zig, on the 1st of May, 1660.

The countrymen of the Great Elector look back with espe-
cial pride on two of his achievements, one of them being the
battle of Fehrbellin, fought on the 18th of June, 1675. Thrice
in the annals of Prussia has the 18th of June been memora-
ble in war. On the 18th of June, nearly two hundred years
ago, Frederick William, marching swiftly by night with six
thousand horse, twelve hundred infantry, and three guns, sur-
prised and annihilated the central division of the Swedish
army, each of its three parts numbering double his own force ;
on the 18th of June, 1757, Frederick the Great, with the
loss of thirteen thousand men, was defeated by the Austrian

BRICK THE GREAT.

507

Marshal Daiin, at Kolin ; on the 18th of June, 1815, Bluchcr
at Waterloo avenged the carnage of Jena, and gave the
blow to the tottering fortunes of Napoleon Bonaparte.

The second exploit of Frederick occurred four years la
The Swedes had invaded Prussia in the dead of winter, 1678,
and the enemy were more than four hundred miles from Berlin
when the Great Elector set out to oppose them and relievo
Konigsbcrg, which was threatened* He, accompanied by hi a
devoted wife, travelled rapidly, arrived in time to find Konigs-
berg tintonched, and on the sixteenth day of the new year, 1679,
saw that it was of the utmost moment to get from Carwe, on
the shore of the Frische Haf, a narrow and shallow wash
making in from the Bay of Dantzig, to Gilge on the Curische
Haf, about one hundred miles farther to the north. The road
between the two places, passing through Konrgsberg, was cir-
cuitous and in very bad order, so that much time would be
lost by the troops on the way. Frederick William was not
to be daunted. Both the Hafs were frozen hard ; and, collect-
ing all the sledges and horses of the district, he sent off a
small army of four thousand men, who, scouring rapidly over
the ice, fell upon the astonished Swedes at Gilge, routing and
driving them northward. Before this event, which the Prus*
sians cherish with great pride, Frederick had invaded Swed-
ish Pomerania, conquered it, and taken Stettin and Stral-
sund ; yet he was not permitted to retain the territories, which
were afterwards transferred to his successors. He also failed
in his designs on Silesia, his claims not being allowed by the
Emperor, and the seizure of that province by Frederick the
Great led, in the succeeding century, to wars which desolated
Central Europe,

The Great Elector was singularly happy in his first mar-
riage, his wife being the Princess Louisa of Orange-Nassau,
aunt to William of Orange^ afterward king of England,
They married young, and for love* She was witty, as well
as beautiful, and her judgment was highly estimated by her
husband. She often accompanied him in his wars, and he
frequently left the sitting of his Privy Council to consult her
on some important measure. Dearly as she had her husband's
interests!! at heart, she must know everything that transpired,

508 carlyle's life of Frederick thb great. [April,

and express her opinion. This at times vexed the Elector,
whose temper was quick, so that his hat was dashed at her
feet, as if to say, " Govern you, then, Madam ! Not the Kor-
fiirst hat, a coif is my wear, it seems." On her death-bed,
when she could no longer speak, he felt upon his own three
slight pressures of her band, in farewell. Notw^ithstanding
his strong affection for her, the Elector married again, his
second wife, Dorothea, bringing him no great happiness. She
had little appreciation of her husband's genios, and was a
thorough matter-of-fact, money-making, economical woman,
doing a great deal with a dairy and vegetable farm near
Berlin, and chieBy remembered now for having planted the
first of the lindens which have given their name, UrUer-dem-
Linden^ to the stateliest street of the capital. ^^ Ah, I have
not my Louisa now ! to whom shall I run for advice or help ? ^
often exclaimed the Elector in his old age. He died on the
29th of April, 1688, just as William of Orange was prepare
ing for his triumphant descent on England, for Which grand
achievement of religious liberty Frederick as an earnest Prot-
estant fervently prayed. He was ever a busy, indefatigable,
brave spirit, his country's good the basis of all his ambition
and his wars. He commenced a little navy on the JQaltic,
favored the establishment of an East India Company, drained
waste lands, encouraged husbandry and the arts, colonized
unsettled portions of his dominions, dug the Friedrich Wil-
helms Canal, fifteen miles long, still in constant use, and by
his kindness to the unfortunate Protestants driven from France
by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, secured the services
of some twenty thousand skilful artisans and agriculturists.
Seventy years after his death, his remains were removed to a
new cathedral in Berlin, and, his coffin being opened by order
of Frederick the Great, the monarch looked long and steadily
at the features of his great-grandfather, and then said, turning
to his attendant nobles: " Gentlemen, this one did a great
work." The king truly reverenced the memory of his great
ancestor, regarding him as the real founder of the Prussian
monarchy. When he succeeded his father, George William,
he found Brandenburg a mere battle-field for foreign armies ;
when he died, after nearly fifty years of rule, he left it much

1859.) carlyle's life of Frederick the great, 509

enlarged, an acknowledged power, felt, feared, and respected*
His true greatne?«3 should have earned for hira more by far
than he has received of those pearU of praise which Mr.
Carlyle has so freely lavished on hia swinish grandson.

On the demise of the Great Elector, his son Frederick III.,
known afterward as King Frederick L, had already married a
second time. His first wife, a princess of Hesse-Cassel, died
in 16S3, leaving a daughter; and, fifteen months after this
event, he married Sophia Charlotte of Hanover, daughter
of the Electress Sophia, and sister of George L of England.
She became the mother of Frederick William, the father of
Frederick the Great. She died on the 1st of February, 1705,
when her son was about seventeen years of age. With in-
tense love for this one child, she yet noticed his rugged ani-
mal nature, and his tendencies to avarice. She was happily
spared farther pain on his account, and the humiliation of
acknowledging as a sovereign the greatest brute of modern
history, who in all probability would not have hesitated to in*
flict upon his mother those indignities which he showered on
his wife and children. Sophia Charlotte possessed a bright
and cultivated mind, as well as great personal attractions.
She and her mother, the Electress, were both shrewd, observ*
ing w^omen, well read in literature, especially the French,
and in theology, inclining to the anti-Calvinist or Rational-
ist side. At Charlottenburg, so called in her honor after her
death, she drew around her such congenial spirits as she could
attract, among them the great Leibnitz, at once her teach-
er and her friend. »* Leibnitz," she wrote, " talked to me
of the * infinitely little ' ; mon Dieu^ as if I did not know
enough of that!'* The mighty philosopher was doubtless
endeavoring to explain his diflerential and integral calculus,
and the theory of infinitesimals ; but she was alluding to her
husband, whose whole life was wasted in petty conceits and
trifles, so that he became to her the incarnation of *' inBnite
littleness." Of a weak constitution from an injury to his
back received in childhood, his mind, naturally good, appears
to have become impaired, or at least satisfied with petty
details of etiquette and courtly splendor. " Regardless of ex-
pense," is the label pinned upon him by Mr. Carlyle, One of
43 ♦

510 cablylb's life of f^sderick the gbbat. [April,

his principal acts was the foundation of the Order of the
Black Eagle ; but he also established the Academy of Berlin,
under the superintendence of Leibnitz, and the University of
Halle in 1694. After long negotiations with other powers,
and unutterable doubtings and ponderings on the part of the
Emperor, Frederick had the gratification of being declared no
longer the mere Elector of Brandenburg, but the first King of
Prussia. Some seven years of anxious solicitation were at
length successful, and Frederick's envoy returned to Berlin
from Vienna, on the 16th of November, 1700, with " Yes,*' in
answer to the last time of asking. '< Infinitely Little " was
too impatient to wait long for his coronation, and thirty days
only after the Kaiser's consent, he set off for Konig^berg, four
hundred and fifty miles from Berlin, Konigsberg then being
the capital of Prussia proper. Thirty thousand post-horses
and eighteen hundred carriages were required for the journey
of this brand-new sovereign and his suite, and if we may judge
by his diamond buttons at £ 1,500 apiece, the royal pageant
must have been of the costliest. He put the crown upon his
own head, an example followed by Napoleon, with rather
more ^clat^ about a century later. At this sublime moment,
or one equally solemn, Sophia Charlotte actually drew out
her box and took a pinch of snuff, to the intense indignation
of the late Elector. When this sensible woman died, he mar-
ried a third wife, the Princess Sophia Louisa of Mecklenburg-
Schwerin, who made his life one of torment by her dreary
orthodoxy, estranged him, went mad, and survived him for
twenty years as an incurable maniac. Frederick William, at
the period of the coronation, was twelve years of age. On
the 25th of February, 1713, his cubship ended, and in full
bearhood he mounted the throne of Prussia.

When summoned to his father's apartment, to say farewell
to the dying man, he could scarcely make his way to the bed-
side, through the crowd of courtiers and lackeys whom Fred-
erick I. thought indispensable to his dignity. The last scene
over, he abruptly turned his back on the obsequious throng
eager to greet him, hurried to his own room, banged the door
behind him, shed a few tears, and then, sending for the captain
of the supernumeraries, told him that until after the funeral

1859. J carlyle's life of freberick the great.

511

he, and all the other gold and silver sticks down to the mean-
est page in waiting, conld retain their places, but that then
they were to be didcharged finally, not even put on a retired
list with half-pay. That court presented a perhaps unique
instance of real mourning. The new king went forthwith to
work to reduce expenses ; he retained but eight lackeys in the
ante'chan[ibers, and paid them each but six shillings a week;
he kept three busy pages, instead of three dozen idlers, Fred-
erick L had paid for, if he did not actually own, one thousand
saddle-horses; his son retained but thirty, and a few more for
carriages. In two months he had curtailed the civil list to
less than one fifth of what it had been under the late king.

Frederick William's queen was Sophia Dorothea, the daugh-
ter of the Elector of Ilanover, afterward George L of Eng-
land • Her mother, the Electress, had for many years before
her daughter's marriage been a closely guarded prisoner in
the castle of Ahlden on Ldnenberg heath, in punishment of
her intrigue, real or supposed, with Count Konigsmark. He
mysteriously disappeared, and she, if guilty, (and in all prob-
ability she was not,) fearfully expiated her sin by a captivity
of thirty years. Her husband consoled himself by two hid-
eous mistresses, aptly described by Walpole ; one of them, the
Duchess of Kendall, being as lean as a handspike, the other,
Madame Kiimansegge, created Countess of Darlington, of such
enormous corpulency that her bosom appeared to melt into
her stomach, — "a cataract of tallow." Sophia Dorothea in-
herited, with her mother's name, some of her mother's beauty
and intellect, and little of her father's coarseness. She had
borne the crown prince four children ; and at the time of his
accession, Frederick, afterward so famous, was little more
than a year old, and his sister Wilhelmina, who was made
to share many of his early trials, was a few years his senior.
Frederick's birth occurred in the Berlin palace, on the 24th of
Januarj^ 1712.

With his constant endeavor to make a hero of Frederick
William, Mr, Carlyle declares that he was very fond of his
wife, "his Phcekin, diminutive of Sophie, as he calls her";
but his fondness never shielded her from the grossest indigni-
ties whenever his savage passions broke loose. She had some

512 caeltlb's lifb of Frederick thb ctrbat. [April,

will of her own, and he required absolute eubmission. With
a vulgar hatred of learning and refinement himself, he chose
to hate those attributes in others, and accordingly turned his
household into a hell in his endeavors to reduce every mem-
ber of his family to his own sordid, brutish level. His peca*
niary reforms, needful as they were, degenerated into avarice.
On one estimate he would shear to save ten tbalers, and on
another to save even half a thaler ; and for the first ten yean
of his reign, his time seems chiejfly to have been passed in the
improvement of his finances. He was willing to spend noth-
ing except upon his army ; this he was continually enlarging,
drilling to perfection, and caning, his bamboo giving perhaps
the best idea ever obtained of perpetual motion. By and by
he was seized with a passion for tall soldiers, and beside his
regular army, which, before his death, amounted to nearly one
hundred thousand effective troops, he drafted, boagbt, seized,
and stole, as occasion required, four thousand giants from
seven to nine feet high, kept only for household service, never
expected to draw a trigger, and good for nothing but to be
flogged and stared at. By the side of these monsters his Ma-
jesty looked diminutive ; he was in truth rather short and stout,
— Ragotin^ " Stumpy," as he was afterward styled by Fred-
erick and Wilhelmina. In youth his complexion was florid
and his gray eyes full of light; in later years, when inflamed
by drink and fury, his orbs blazed with terrible fire, and bis
face appeared a mixture of colors, blue, green, and scarlet. In
the early part of his reign he often wore the dress of a civilian,
but after 1719 he invariably used that of Colonel of the Pots-
dam Guards ; a small white wig surmounted by a cocked hat,
a close military blue coat with red cuffs and collar, buff waist-
coat and breeches, white linen gaiters to the knee, the sword
girt high, and — that cane. In speaking he made every one
look him straight in the face ; few could meet his look without
terror ; and if the answers were not satisfactory, or if the re-
spondent hesitated, the cane did its work. He beat the apple-
women for not knitting at their stalls; an idler was often
cracked over the crown before he knew the king was near,
while those who had once approached him took to their heels
if they saw him in the distance. At times a direct answer

1859.] caklyle's life of Frederick tue great, 513

pleased him. " Who arc yon ? '' he asked a poor boy, one
day. " A candidatns (Ji€olog^ia\ your Majesty." " Where
from?" ** Berlin, your Majesty." " Hm, na, the Berliners
are a good-for-nothing set.'* " Yes, truly, too many of them ;
but there are ejcceptions, — I know two.** "Two? which
then ? " ** Your Majesty and myself.'* The king laughed
aloud, had the youth examined, and gas^e him a chaplaincy.
Not only did Frederick William chastise the loungers of his
capital, but he insisted to some extent on regulating their
costume. He waged a war against wigs, taxed them, would
sometimes pull them off in the street from men's heads, and,
as he could not do so to the French envoy, contrived a plan
to ridicule him and his associates, who dressed in the highest
Parisian fashion, with cocked hats, large wigs, and laced coats.
The king, at a review when the offending ambassador was
present, caused a number of men previously dressed in the
most extravagant style, with cocked hats a yard in diameter,
wigs descending to their hips, and other similar enormities, to
appear at a concerted signal, and gravely march over the field
in full view of the envoy. The monarch and all his troops
maintained a look of solemn unconsciousness ; but the envoy
took the hint, and, as long afterward as he stayed in Prussia,
dressed in plain German fashion.

Frederick William can scarcely be called a warlike sov-
ereign ; and although he took such pains to strengthen and
perfect his army, he was careful not to expose it unnecessarily
to the brunt of battle. With the exception of one brief inter*
val, his reign was peacefid. In November, 1714, all Europe
was startled by the reappearance of Charles XII. of Sweden,
who for five years from the battle of Pultowa had been in
Turkey, and for more than a year was by many believed to
be dead. At length, in the latter part of October, 1714, he
awoke from his lethargy, obtained the Sultan Achraet's con-
sent to quit his castle near Adrianople, and with but two
attendants, galloping night and day through wild steppes and
mountain passes, through Vienna, Cassel, and Pomerania,
reached the gate of Stralsund, on the Baltic Sea, sixteen days
after leaving the place of his concealment He demanded of
the sentinel at the postern instant admission to the Governor,

514 carltle's life of Frederick thb orkat. [April,

who rose from his bed to recognize in the way-worn rider,
" white with snow,'* his own long-lost sovereign. Scarce a sin-
gle triumph in even Charles's marvellous career attracted wider
fame than this, and hardly bad the news of his return, and the
wild joy of the city, its salutes, bonfires, and illnminations,
reached the ears of surrounding sovereigns, than it was deemed
important to dislodge him, and he at once found himself
menaced by the Czar, and the rulers of Denmark, Hanover,
Saxony, and Prussia. Frederick William unwillingly took up
arms against Charles, but he was forced to do this if he would
retain possessions that had already been given to him ; and on
the 28th of April, 1715, he declared war and put his forces in
motion. He stayed two months in Stettin, and, joined by
sixteen thousand Danes and about four thousand Saxons, be
laid siege to Stralsund about the end of June, with forty
thousand men, Charles having about one quarter of this force
to defend and man his works. Notwithstanding this inequal*
ity, it was mid-winter before the desperate valor of Charles
yielded to fate, and he was persuaded to escape over the ice
to a Swedish frigate lying about a mile from the shore, when
the place surrendered. The king of Prussia was the principal
worker in the siege of Stralsund, which the Berliners regarded
with great pride ; but when they wished to give their sovereign a
triumphant entry, on his return in January, 1716, he forbade it,
ordering in its stead a thanksgiving sermon to be preached in
all the churches the next Sunday. When Frederick William
went to this war, he left most exact directions with his minis-
ters ; he was to be informed of anything important, but if there
was nothing passing of moment, no paper was to be wasted ;
above all, no money was to be paid unless actually falling due
by the book. His wife was to be consulted on matters of con-
sequence, but beyond her and his councillors, " no mortal was
to poke into his affairs." He also left explicit directions for
his funeral in case he was shot ; directions the non-fulfilment of
which in later years his wife and daughter had cause to regret.

Peter the Great, on his way home from France, in the au-
tumn of 1717, spent four days at Berlin, visiting Frederick
William ; and of this memorable meeting, with attendant
events, the Princess Wilhelmina has given abundant descrip-

1859.] carlylb's lipe op frebekiok the gekat. 515

tioii in her Memoirs* The king had a fellow-feeling for the
Czar, as he had for Charles XIL ; he doubtleiis had an ijiterest
in his efforta to civilize Russia, and for the rest, Peter's brutish
habits were too much in unison with his own to annoy hira,
although in refinement and decency he was, compared to the
Czar, as " Hyperion to a satyr," The Czar was now fifty-
five; his Czarina thirty-three; and little Wilhelmina, who
tells some things which she saw with her own eyes, and some
which she did not, was about nine. Such an extraordinary
court never before or since was dragged about by a sovereign.
An immense train of women was in attendance to minister to
Peter's pleasure ; some of them bore evidence of their relations
to him by their babies richly dressed ; and when questioned
regarding their paternity, bowing low they replied, *^ The Czar
did me the honor (m'a fait Phonneur de me /aire cet enfarUy^
This was nothing, however, for Peten While at Magdeburg,
on bis way to Berlin, he received a deputation of solemn offi-
cials, with a complimentary address, which he listened to while
standing with his arms around the necks of two Russian la-

^dies; and for his adventure in the same place with his own
niece, the Duchess of Mecklenburg, we roust refer the reader
to the book* Fie took a fancy to an indecent little statue
in the royal Cabinet of Antiques, which Frederick William
readily gave him. The king had given bim the year before a
quantity of amber curiosities, which had belonged to his late

'father; also a superb yacht, the property of the same expen-
sive monarch. In return he obtained from the Czar valuable
considerations, worth, no dSubt, twenty times as much as his
own gifts ; for the yacht, the amber, and the disgusting little
Priapus, he established a rich trade with Russia, selling large

..quantities of cloth, salt, hardware, and manufactured articles,
beside receiving what he most prized on earth, gigantic sol-
diers,— one hundred and fifty this autumn, followed by about
one hundred more each year. Frederick William repaid such
favors by sending engineers, gunners, mill-wrights, and various
artisans into Russia, to instruct the rude Muscovites,

Young Fritz had by this time come to be five years of age.
The picture in ]Mr. Carlyle's first volume represents him as be
was a year or two before, playing soldier, and attended by his

516 CARLTLB^S LIFE OF FBBDBBIOK THB GREAT. [April,

sister Wilhelmina, and a negro in the backgroand, said negro
perhaps the same one kept busy in reporting bulletins of his
Majesty's health in the last days of Frederick. Williani. Not
long afterward the crown prince was taken out of petticoat^
and put to his schooling. For the first seven years of his life be
was under the charge of a head-governess, Frau von Kamecke.
called Kamken by Wilhelmina, of whom there is nothing par*
ticular to remember. Beneath her, however, was a saus-gou'
vemante^ the Dame de Roucoulles, who took immediate charge
of the prince. She was a Frenchwoman and a Protestant,
who, then Madame de Montbeul, had to fiee from her country
when a young widow, with her daughter and mother-in-law,
driven out as thousands of others were by the revocation of
the Edict of Nantes. After her fiight to Prussia, she married
Roucoulles, a refugee from France, and was appointed by So-
phia Charlotte to perform the same part for Frederick William
which she now acted for his son. She taught the little prince
to speak French, and loved him devotedly; which attention be
appears to have repaid to the end of her days, she just living
to witness his accession. French was thus early ground into
him ; so thoroughly, too, that he despised Grerman, indeed spoke
only the corrupt Prussian dialect of it, with sufficient freedom
for all the ordinary purposes of life, commanding his troops,
his officials, and his subjects in it, but banishing it from his
table and his court, — Luther's Bible being probably the only
really German work he ever looked into, and that not very
often. At seven years, as before told, Frederick was removed
from female instruction, and had ^tutors and sub-tutors ap-
pointed to conduct his education, Frederick William sharply
overseeing all. Lieutenant- General Count Fink von Finken-
stein, a man of sixty, was head-tutor; under him were Duhan
de Jandun, a Frenchman of thirty, and Lieutenant- Colonel
Kalkstein, twenty-eight years of age. By these three men
was he drilled and taught. He appears to have attached them
to him, and for the two younger men he retained friendship
until the death of each, Jandun's twenty years afterward, and
Kalkstein's forty. Nor must another remarkable character be
forgotten, not included in this list of tutors, but who exercised
great influence over the training of Frederick, and who held a

1859.]

CARLTLE's life of FREDERICK

BAT,

517

, most prominent place about the court and person of hia father.
Thia was Leopold, Prince of An halt- Dessau, who^je character
from Mr, Carlyle's portrait appears to us to be nearer Blucher'd
than any we can name, with much of the fire and the sublime
patriotism of that rough-timbered hero* He too was a man
of stern, simple tastes, who cared nothing for etiquette, and
whom Jenkins would have ruled out of a court journal as vul-
gar. He \vould marry a Miss Fos, an apothecary's daughter^
in spite of his aristocratic family, even killing her cousin, who
had laid claim to her hand. He became General-Ficld-Mar-
shal of the Prussian armies, and fought with desperate bravery
at Malplaquet and Blenheim, in the former battle only as a
volunteer; he was the first man to scale the French intrench*
ments at Eugene's stomiing of the lines of Turin in 1706; he
invented iron ramrods, and the equal step of troops, with many
other forms of modern military tactics. His religious culture
was not far from "zero," the point of Frederick William's
stump-oratory ; he called Luther^s hymn, Eine feste Burg ist
nnser Gofi, "God Almighty's Grenadier March '^; and when
about to join battle he lifted his hat, growling out some short
prayer as the signal for close action. He was the king's sec-
ond-cousin, had great influence with him, and thus befriended
Frederick in after years when incarcerated at Ciistrin.

The king's regulations regarding his son's education are
characteristic. Every moment was to be used after detailed
forms and an unvarying routine. When the monarch put pen
to paper, he neither wrote nor scrawled ; the manuscript looked
like the wipes of a bear's paw, and his instructions drawn up
in such fashion have been preserved, and at once, in spite of
al! his biographer's encomiums, reveal his tyrannical espionage
and narrow views. His son was to be impressed with a proper
fear and love of God, which feelings, if indeed he was ever
imbued with them, he managed to throw off utterly before
coming to the throne. He was to be guarded against heresy
and schism, and sects Atheist, Arian, and Socinian, as well as
Papistry ; and so completely did he learn these lessons, and
improve upon them, that he grew up and ended his life with
no belief whatever in revealed religion* In an age when the
Latin was still a universal language, and many celebrated au-

voL. Lxxxvnr, — no. 183, 44

518 oablylb's life of Frederick thb gbbat. [April,

thors wrote in it, 'he was expressly forbidden ixy learn it He
would, however, have done so of his own accord, had the least
chance been given to him ; bat when by stealth he sought to
make himself master of it^ his harsh father broke in upon him,
and with his cane put to flight his young instructory and made
an end of his son's lessons. To the last, Frederick was food
of quoting a few scraps of the language, but always incorrectly;
and although he could not, to save his life, read a page of
Cicero, he says in his old age, writing to some one, and quot-
ing four words: "You see I don't forgot my Latin." The
king continued: "Let him learn arithmetic, mathematics,
artillery, economy to the very bottom ; history, ancient only
slightly, of the last hundred and fifty years to the exactest
pitch." Next geography, and "with increasing years go upon
fortification and the other war-sciences," that the crown prince
may " seek all his glory in the soldier profession." Another doc-
ument prescribes for every hour of each day in the ^reek. This
was when Fritz was ten years old, and of this we ^ve a speci-
men. Sunday. " On Sunday he is to rise at seven, and, as
soon as he has got his slippers on, shall kneel down at his
bedside, and pray to God, so as all in the room may hear it,''
— the prayer given. After this the Lord's prayer, " then rap-
idly and vigorously wash himself clean, dress, and powder,
and comb himself," sipping his tea meanwhile. " Prayer with
washing, breakfast, and the rest to be done pointedly within
fifteen minutes." After this, family prayers with domestics
and Duhan, then reading and expounding of the Gospel, and
Noltenius's catechism, until nine o'clock. At nine o'clock he
was to go with the king to church, and dine with him at noon
precisely. Henceforth until half past nine P. M., the day is
his own, but at that hour he is to bid the king good night,
and " shall then directly go to his room, very rapidly get ofi*
his clothes, wash his hands, and so soon as that is done Duhan
makes a pmyer on his knees, and sings a hymn, all the servants
being again there ; instantly after which my son shall get into
bed, — shall be in bed at half past ten." On Monday, as on
every other week-day, he was to be called at six, and made to
get up instantly, not to loiter nor turn in bed ; dressing and
breakfast to go on at once, and both to be over before half pas>t

1859.1

carlyle'i

ICE THE QRBAT.

519

six. Half an hour for prayers, and then history from seven until
nine; at nine Noltenius with catechism and " Chritstian re-
ligion" until a quarter of eleven. No doubt the young Fred-
crick was wearied early in life with his long, dreary theological
lessonn, and in later days, when he was expiating at Ciistrin
his rash attempt to escape, the fearful sermons thundered over
his head week after week probably completed his di&gu&t, and
no doubt aided his progress toward scepticism as to all revealed
religion. At a quarter before eleven he was to go to the king,
dining with him always at twelve, and at two he must be
again in his room with his maps and geography; from three
to four, moral philosophy; from four to five, he was to write
German letters so as to acquire " a good siylum^' which he never
did. After this hour he was to go again to the king, and then
amuse himself. On Wednesdays and Saturdays be was to
have half-holidays, if he behaved well. Above all charges
which the king gave, one was to be most strictly enforced,
**In undressing and dressing, you must accustom him to get
out of and into his clothes as fast as is humanly possible. You
will also look that he learn to put on and put olThis clotlies
himself, without help from others, and that he be clean and neat,
and not so dirty (nicht so schmuizig')/' Frederick William,
although a brute, was a clean one, but this virtue was want-
ing in Fritz, who continued schmtUzig to the end of his days.
This schooling was going on at Wusterhauseo, a dreary
palace or hunting-seal twenty miles southeast of Berlin, and
described by Wilhelraina as an odious residence. Here
Frederick enjoyed the society of a number of cousins ; but
the strong attachment which here grew up between him
and his sister was more deeply rooted than any other friend-
ship, and was never broken^ in spite of his mocking spirit
and cold heart. Here too was held the king*s famous
Tobacco Parliament, the sessions while at Wusterhausen
in the autumn weeks being usually in the open air, cer-
tainly more endurable than the reeking rooms of the Berlin
and Potsdam palaces. Wilhelmina says that her brother's
progress in his studies was " slow *' ; but that term can hardly
be applied to Frederick in any sense. He was perhaps rather
desultory, and physically not very robust in youth. Besides,

520

CABLYLE's tWE OF FEEDERICK THE GREAT.

he was thwarted in pursuits for which he had a natural
He loved music, and became an accomplished performi
the flute. Hid Latin, we have seen, was expressly A
den. He does not appear in early boyhood to have
any very decided military genius; but he was thorougli
structed by the best masters of the art of war, and
learned to command. When the prince was eleven yei
age, George L, then on a visit to Berlin, looking out
palace windows one morning, saw the little fellow d
his company of cadets, formed by youths about his
age, ordering them with a clear, sharp voice, and sol
precision. Beside his native talent for music, he readi
quired arithmetic and geography, with some otlier brai
of useful practical knowledge ; but with his strong biqj
literature, and much as he wrote, he never learned to
or punctuate correctly, and of the rules of grammar he I
nothing. He wrote indeed with fluency, and his prose
was not without grace and vivacity; but to give a tt
for the structure of a paragraph remained always be;
his power- In a note in French to Duhan which was
five lines long^ there were tea gross errors, and this J
nearly nine years* schooling. |

While Frederick William was trying by rude buffl
and tyrannical restraint to keep his son free from the aq
ties of life and of literary culture, and to make him a ^
practical machine, he began to find that the contemfj
expressed for music, Latin, and polite arts of French q
generally, was returned by his son with contempt for I
man fashions; and as the king himself was wholly i
man, he might have supposed hiinself included in the csl
prince's distaste. This was perhaps at the bottom of
disfavor with his father into which Frederick fell, and v^
may be traced from his seventh year, growing finally ,|
the most savage hatred ou the part of the monarch>^
manifested by curses, taunts, sneers, showers of blows |
the cane, kicks, and plates dashed from the dinner-tahl
the prince, and at Wilhelmina too, wlio shared her bro^
sufl'erings. By degrees the king's wrath rose to such a p
that he made the lives of his queen and children a dayi

1859.]

carlyle's lii

BlICK THE GREAT*

521

purgatory, and, not satisfied with beating his offspring, kept
them on loathsome food, turning their stomachs with ** ^oupa
of salt and water, ragouts of old bones full of hairs and slop-
peries," and putrid sauer-kraut Because the crown prince
did not deem drilling the chief end of man, because he was
passionately fond of music beyond that of a regimental band,
because he hated tobacco-smoke, and saw no pleasure in
playing draughts, swilling beer, and killing wild hogs, it was
Frederick Williara*s delight to hate and torment him ; and
he did hate him with such ferocity that we can account for
it only by supposing bis passions rendered demoniac by the
fomes of tobacco and brandy. He was a hard drinker at
times, not always, and at one important period, when he
should have had clear command of his powers, Mr. Carlyle
even admits that he was drunk every night for a month.
We have no doubt that he would have killed Frederick, had
he found a fair opportunity. He transferred his aflections
to a younger son, August Wilhelm, wishing often that he
were the crown prince. When Frederick, maddened beyond
all endurance by the cruelties heaped upon him, attempted
to escape from Prussia, he was arrested and condemned to
death, his historian admitting that, but for the intercession
of the Emperor, the sentence would probably have been
carried into eflect. And Mr. Carlyle further says, that the
crown prince was driven by dire necessity into a course
of deception, foreign to his nature, toward his terrible father,
and that, even when in the midst of his miseries he recog-
nized all that was good in his father's character, the coarse
perceptions of the king could hardly be enlightened to the
splendid abilities of the son, which he sntlenly admitted only
at the last. Yet this is the man trumpeted as a hero; a
man who, despotic whether drunk or sober, was led by the
nose by lying ministers; whose sordid avarice, not patriotism,
accumulated millions of treasure, not at interest, bat stored
away in vaults or moulded into balustrades and mirror
frames; who would pay for an Irishman eight feet high
more than he would allow to the most gifted ambassador,
and whose chief delights, after smoking and guzzling, were
I to kill pigs and cane apple-women*
44 •

522 caelyle's ufb ov wbxdvbick thb gbbat. [Aprily

Mr. Carlyle devotes much space to the double-marriage pro-
ject, so fondly entertained by the Queen Sophia Dorothea,—
that of uniting Frederick of Hanover — son of George (afto-
ward George II.) of England and Caroline of Anspach — to
Wilhelraina ; and her own son Frederick of Prussia to Caro-
line's daughter, Amelia of England. It will not enter into our
purpose to detail the long and fruitless negotiations grow-
ing out of this matter, which ended finally in neither mar-
riage taking place, to the intense sorrow and indignation of
the queen, Wilhelmina giving her hand to the Margrave of
Baireuth, and Frederick by his father's desire espousing the
Princess Elizabeth of Bruns wick-Be vern. While these mat-
ters were going on, the crown prince entered on a new
career as a practical soldier, being on the 3d of May, 1725,
gazetted a captain, when he was in his fourteenth year;
and enrolled accordingly in the giant regiment of Potsdam
Guards. Frederick's soldiering henceforth was no child's
play, and the duties of parade and drill could not by aoj
possibility be shirked from distaste for them, as they fre-
quently had been before. This giant regiment was the
pride of the king's heart, more valued by him than even
his heaps of silver, and he would pay any price for a Colossus
to add to it, when he was niggardly in all other outlay. He
paid for James Kirkman, a huge Irishman, about six thou-
sand dollars, before he could get him inveigled and fairly
numbered among the Potsdam Guards ; as before told, about
one hundred monsters arrived every year from Russia, and
the king's agents were to be found in every country of Eu-
rope, looking out for the largest heaps of bone and sinew.
Woe to any peasant or artisan over six feet high. In the
town of Jiilich a young carpenter at work one day beheld
an important, peremptory-looking man enter his shop, who
ordered a large, strong chest It must be six feet six inches
long, and stout in proportion, to be finished on a certain day.
When the day came, the man called again, and insisted that
the chest was too short; it was to be made longer than the
carpenter himself. So it was, he contended, and put out his
rule to measure it Even this would not content the stranger,
who, in order to make sure, requested the carpenter to get in,

1859.] CAALYLK's life of FaEDKBiCK THB GREAT. 523

and see if the box would hold him at full length. No sooner
said than done^ In jumped the carpenter, and the positive
man^ a diBguiaed recrulting^oificer, slammed down the lid,
locked it, and whistled sharply^ when three stout men came
in, bore off' the box and the man in it on their shoulders,
walked through the streets gravely, opened the case in some
safe place, and found the carpenter dead of s^utTocation.
For this failure, the man being murdered in fact, Horapesch
was imprisoned for life. Had he kidnapped his man alive, he
would have been rewarded. Burgermeisters of small towns
were sometimes carried off^, and a rich merchant of Magde-
burg had to pay a large sum to get clear. Even the Austrian
ambassador on his way from Vienna to England was ar-
rested. His carriage broke down on the road, and while it
was undergoing repairs he concluded to walk on alone to
a town not far distant. At the gate he was stopped by
the Prussian officials, who, as he was very tall, thought he
would make a good present to Frederick William, and were
terribly alarmed when they found out his real character,
George L was so incensed at this audacity, that he took
measures to clear Hanover of all recruiting-ofTiccrs. Indeed,
these men found themselves prisoners at times, and in Hoi-

bland one of them was summarily hanged.
The Tobacco Parliament, or College, was the chief scene
of the intrigues of Grumkow and Seckendorf, who led the
tyrannical Frederick William by the nose; the Baron Grum-
kow being bribed by the Emperor, and Seckendorf being the
Emperor's Minister at Berlin, so that by the two he was for
years entirely under Austrian influence. It is also memorable
for the mad pranks performed by the king and his associates.
Here were discussed affairs of state, to the extent to which
the monarch chose they should be discussed, he having no
such thing as a constitutional parliament or privy council In
the Berlin and the Potsdam palaces, each, was a room fitted
up for a Tabagie^ or rather not fitted at all, excepting with
rough w^ooden chairs and tables^ This resort was meant pri-
marily for recreation, although much business was done in it
Here the king and his party met nightly, talked, read crabbed
Dutch and German newspapers, played backgammon, smoked

524 garlylb's ufb of fredsbick thb gbbat. [April,

always, swilled beer by the gallon, committed enormities when
drunk, spat all over the floor, and made themselves sociable
generally. Grumkow, Seckendorf, the old Dessauer, Ginckel,
the Dutch ambassador, and others, were constantly there, while
strangers of mark were often introduced. King^ and princes
travelling were honored with invitations, and Frederick wm
sometimes present, never by his own choice, and always to
his disgust.

Frederick William, without the least leaming^ himself, col-
lected about him in the Tobacco College several literary men
of whose weaknesses and vices he made sport. For digniSed
literary character he cared nothing. He exiled the celebrated
Wolf from his dominions, because in some controversy with
the Halle theologians he was accused of heterodoxy, and the
king, knowing nothing of the matter, sided with the body of
the professors, and in a fury ordered Wolf to quit the Prussian
territories within forty-eight hours, under pain of the halter.
Ten years afterwards, from looking himself into Wolf's
works, he became convinced that he had acted unjustly, and
sent for him to return. Wolf, however, had no confidence in
the king's temper, and never would come back until Frederick
ascended the throne, when he was again invited, and resumed
his place at Halle.

One of the literary characters who afforded to Frederick
William the greatest amusement was Jakob Paul Gundiing,
a man of great learning, an omnivorous book-worm in his
better days, and author of many antiquarian works now for-
gotten, but of intense conceit and a confirmed sot. He bad
roamed about the world not a little, sometimes as tutor and
gentleman's companion, and had finally come to Berlin during
the late reign, and was by Frederick I. appointed to certain
professorships and sinecures, which economical Frederick
William swept away ; so that Gundiing came to the streets
for a living, sinking lower and lower, until a tavern-keeper,
having some appreciation of his learning, or finding that his
talk interested chance bibbers and drew custom, gave him the
privilege of a seat at the stove, and the run of the tap-room.
Here he was found by Baron Grumkow, who speedily intro-
duced him into the Tobacco Parliament, to the edification of the

oarlylb's lifb of prederick the great. 525

■fits

king and his party. "Working into the man, his Majesty, who
had a great taste for such things, discovered in him s-uch mines
of college learning, court learning, without end ; self-conceit
and depth of appetite not less considerable ; in fine, such chaotic
blockheadii^m with the consciousness of being wisdom as was
wondrous to behold, — as filled his Majesty, especially, with
laughter and joyful amazement" For some years, therefore,
the king took delight in exposing the humors and weak points
of this poor wreck of humanity* If the monarch dined with
any of his associates, Gundling must be invited also; other-
wise he was at the Taiagie. The king had him rigged out in
the most absurd style, and bestowed on him a number of ap-
pointments and titles. He gave him, for every -day wear, a
scarlet coat with gold-laeed button-holes, black velvet facings,
and embroideries ; " straw-colored breeches ; red silk stockings,
and shoes with red heels "; a huge white periwig, a red feather
in his hat, and the golden key of Kammerherr^ chamberlain,
hanging at his breast Thus attired, be walked abroad, the
butt of rude idlers, as he was seldom sober, and from frequent
tumbles into the mud his fantastic dress soon became dirty,
for which Frederick William soundly rated and teased him.
One day, as he was lying on the ground drunk, two captains
cut off* his key, and gave it privately to the king. *^ Where is
your key?" he gravely asked, the next time Gundling appeared
in the Tabag-ie. " Unfortunately lost it, your Majesty." "Lost
it ? " rejoined the king, frowning terribly. " Lost it? " echoed
the whole Parliament, knowing the case exactly. Here was a

*ave matter. A soldier who should lose his musket, or spend
its worth in drink, would be shot; why not Gundling? The
royal clemency was, after great apparent difficulty, obtained ;
the culprit was to expiate his olTence, and live. The next
time the Tabag^ie met, a servant entered with a tray, on which
was a huge gilt wooden key about a yard long* This was
hung round Gundling's neck, to be worn by him in public
during the king's pleasure. When his metal key was finally

stored to him, he went to a locksmith and had it fastened on
with wire. Frederick William, to ridicule the Berlin Acadfmie
des ScicneeSi made Jakob Paul its President, atid once officially
submitted as a prize question to the learned members, ^< why

526 oarlylb's lifb of fredsrick the gbmat. [Apdit

Champagne foamed." Gundling's perqaisites from this place
and others amounted to £150 per annum, beside his having
the use of the king's cellars free of charge. For these favors
he paid dear. Sometimes he found yoang bears lying in bis
bed. Again, the door of his room was walled up, and, stag"
gering about to find it, he would stumble into the big bear'i
den, and be nearly hugged to death. At Wusterhauseo he
was swung by ropes over a frozen ditch, \^hen one of the
ropes broke, and he went through the ice to be fished out half
drowned. If, to escape his mad persecutors, he took refage
in his room, a door panel was knocked in, and fire-cracken
were thrown at him until he emerged. Once he ran away, and
went to Halle, where he had a brother ; but he was inveigled
back again by apologies and increased salaries and titles, the
king actually raising him to the peerage ; while he frequently
received presents from distinguished people, the Emperor send-
ing his portrait set in diamonds for the presentation copies of
Gundling's Works.

But nothing delighted Frederick William so much as setting
him and one or two other literary fools by the ears. One of
these was Fassmann, who wrote a stupid Life of the king, and
another of Augustus the Strong. He and Gundling were
pitted against each other, until they became so enraged that
Jacob seized his smoking pan of hot sand and a»hes, and
threw its contents over Fassmann, who thereupon seized him,
turned him over his knee, and spanked him soundly with the
hot pan. To satisfy wounded honor, the king suggested a
duel. At the appointed hour and place they met, their pistols,
unknown to themselves, being merely charged with powder.
Gundling, afraid, threw his pistol away, would neither shoot
nor be shot at ; but Fassmann, advancing, fired, and set Gund-
ling's wig in a blaze, when the poor fellow fell to the earth
yelling, and was extinguished with a bucket of water. When
he died at length, Frederick William had him buried in a wine-
cask painted black, with a white cross on it, the drunkard
knowing it was to be his coffin, as it had stood in his room
for many years. Buried in it he was, indeed, in spite of the
subdued groans of the orthodox clergy of Berlin, who dared
not remonstrate.

1859.1

CABLYLE*6 LIFE OF FBEDERICK THE GREAT.

527

In January, 1723, the crown prince, then sixteen yearsj of
age, made a visit to Dresden with his father, by invitation of
Augustus the Strong, who was both Elector of Saxony and
King of Poland. The visit was in a great degree planned by
Grumkow and Seckendorf, to divert the melancholy of the
king, caused chiefly by the troublesome negotiations regarding
the double marriage, of which he was beginning to be heartily
sick, while the queen gave her whole influence in its favor, at
the same time swaying the dispositions of Frederick and Wil-
helmina. This course, in which she persisted as long as a
glimmer of hope remained, accounts for much of her hus-
band's outrageous conduct On this journey it was not Fred-
erick William's intention to take his son ; he was to stay at
Potsdam and continue drilling; but an express invitation came
from Augustus for the crown prince, who arrived at Dresden
the day after his father, on the loth of January. The king of
Prussia, going in no state, would not accept Augustus's hospi-
tality at the palace, but took op his quarters with the Com-
mandant of Dresden. The festivities were magnificent, and
prolonged for a month, Augustus being one of the most ex-
pensive of monarchs, as one of the most " physically strong,"
he having in the course of his life favored the world with three
hundred and fifty-four illegitimate children, one for nearly ev-
ery day in the year. He was, however, not a mere monster
of profligacy, being a man of strong mental powers, great
accomplishments, noble presence, and superb taste in art
Young Frederick, found the court of Augustus and the ways
of his host much more to his taste than the life at Potsdam,
and this visit was not without great influence on his future, but
influence of evil nature. One day after dinner the tw^o kings,
^accompanied by Frederick, strolled about the palace, when
Augustus, in order to test Frederick William's presumed in-
sensibility to women, introduced them into a room exquisitely
furnished, and, as the king of Prussia was admiring it, a
curtain rose before a recess, and within it, lying on a bed, was
a beautiful young creature in the style and attitude of Ti-
tiaus Venus; according to one account, robed in a loose gauze
which revealed rather than hid her charms, but by Wilhelmi^
na's statement completely nude. Frederick William was very

528 oablylb's lifb of frbdbrick the obbat. [Aprils

angry, turned round and pushed the crown prince oat of the
room, but not until he had obtained a fall view of the wanton.
This was not the worst of the matter. There -was in Angns-
tus's court a beautiful Countess Orzelska, who bad already
bewitched Frederick. She was Augustus's daughter by a
French milliner in Warsaw, and among the three hundred
and fifty-four Augustus lost sight of her until one of the
number, her half-brother, perhaps not aware of the relatioo-
ship,took her for his mistress. In due time he introduced her
to her father and his, who was so fascinated with her, that she
actually became his reigning favorite. In this capacity she
encountered Frederick, and her father-lover, becoming jealoas.
signified to the crown prince that, if he would give up all
thoughts of her, he might freely possess the cabinet Venus.
Frederick took her, and from this connection entered for some
years upon a dissolute course, which corrupted his nature and
injured his health. In the following May, Augustus, '<the
physically strong, the Saxon roan of sin," paid his counter-
visit to Frederick William, and for three weeks set Berlin in
a blaze ; the Prussian king spending more money than he was
ever known to spend before or afterward, and even lighting up
the Tobacco Parliament in honor of the sublime occasion.
Augustus was accompanied by his son Maurice, the Marshal
de Saxe, most celebrated of the three hundred and fifty-four:
also by Orzelska and many others, concerning whom and the
visit full narratives have been given by Wilhelmina.

The double-marriage negotiations meantime were still going
on, tending to inflame the king more vehemently, and to widen
the breach between him and his wife and children. To divert
his mind, he went off in January, 1729, on a grand boar-hunt^
and slaughtered 3,602 head of wild swine ; — a great waste,
some would say, and wholesale cruelty ; on the contrary, to
Frederick William a source of revenue. Every scrap of that
hog's meat was sold. Every man in the localities was obliged,
according to his means, to take certain quant ties at a fixed
price. He was at liberty to eat or not, or to cut up his swine into
mess-pork or sausages as he saw fit; but every ounce was paid
for in cash, and all the money went into the king's treasury.
Admirable financiering ! But after this prodigious hunt, from

1859.] caklylb'b lifb of Frederick tee great. 029

fatigue and other causea, the king returned ill to Potsdam, at-
tacked with the gout Imagine that sick-room, Frederick
William with the gout I ** It was a hell on earth to us,** says
Wilhelmina*

The Princess Frederika Louisa, Wilhclmina's younger
sister, aged fifteen, was married about this time, the first mar-
ried of the family, to the Margrave of Baireuth. The union
was not happy, the parties leading a cat-and-dog life for thirty
years. The wedding festivities appeared to produce no good
feeling with the king toward hia two oldest children, and in
short the crown prince was now over head and ears in trouble.
He was liable to be surprised by his father at any moment, and
soundly caned without warning. In spite of his father's orders
and hatred of music, he pursued it assiduously, practised on
the flute, and employed Quanti?, leader of the Court Band
in Saxony, to give him lessons. At such hours as he could
command from garrison duty, he would practise music with
Quantz and Lieutenant Katte, a boon companion and dissolute
fellow, of whom we shall speak elsewhere. Closeted with these
friends, Frederick, with his love of French fashions, would
throw off the Prussian uniform coat, transform the Prussian
pigtail queue into a silk bag, put on a flowing scarlet brocade
dressing-gown, and enjoy himself at his ease. As he was
thus attired and busied on one occasion, Katte, ou the look-
out in another room, hurried in with the news that his Majesty
was coming, — ^was close by already. He seized Quantz, the.
flutes, and the music-books, and both rushed into a wood-
closet and shut the door, Frederick tore off* his gown, and as
fast as was " humanly possible '* pulled on his coat and looked
innocent. But he could not so easily change the silk bag for
the Prussian pigtail, and this betrayed him. The king stormed
and swore; he caught sight of the brocade gown, and threw it
into the fire ; for an hour he went on like a madman, seized
all the forbidden articles in the room, sent for a bookseller and
ordered him to sell every French book for what it would bring, —
and the bookseller, knowing whom to please, discreetly hid the
library, and one by one lent tliese volumes afterward to the
prince as he required* Katte and Quantz all the while stood
trembling in the closet, which his Majesty forgot to pull open*

VOL. LXXXVIII, NO* 183* 45

530 cablylb's life of fbedkbick thb great. [April,

The crown prince was now attacked and beaten at aoj
moment without the slightest reason. His life indeed was
most wretched. His father cursed him and Wilhelmina for
Canaille Anglaise, ** English Doggery," often refusing to let
them come near him except at dinner-time, and then be threw
plates at their heads. Once, before the queen, he repeated to
Frederick the old story of the man about to be hung, who re*
quested permission to whisper a last word to his mother, and,
leave being granted, bit her ear off, because in boyhood she
had encouraged him in a lie about his horn-book, and thus
opened his path to the gallows. <^ Make the application,''
added the brutal monarch.

Frederick now began to meditate flight as the only escape
from torment. He was seventeen years of age, yet he was
flogged like an urchin of eight summers. He wrote to the
queen that he was driven to extremity, and was resolved io
put an end to it. He made confidants for his project of one or
two young companions, one of them being Katte, whom we
have seen in the music-room. This young man was in the
army, and was highly connected, his father being a general who
rose to be field-marshal. Young Katte had been sent to the
universities, and intended for a lawyer ; but finding no favor
outside of the army, he had entered it, still retaining his love
of books and music, which, with his ready wit and polished
manners, rendered him a favorite with the prince. He was a
free-thinker, too, and a libertine, as the prince was already.
His looks, however, were not agreeable. He had a lowering,
ominous visage, and was pitted by the small-pox. Frederick
informed him of his plan, and the doomed man entered heart-
ily into his royal friend's scheme to escape. His zealous aid,
and the steadfast manner in which he subsequently met his
fate, should be remembered. It was Frederick's determination
to escape into France, and thence to England, where he doubt-
less imagined he would be received, and marry the Princess
Amelia, to whom, in obedience to his mother's wishes, he
had pledged his faith, and even declaring his firm purpose
never to wed another. He communicated this resolve to Sir
Charles Hotham, the English envoy specially sent to Berlin
in place of old Dubourgay, recalled. Frederick wrote expli-

1859,] C.\BLyLE*S LIFE OF

&K THB GREAT*

531

citly to Sir Charles that the reason of the king's opposition to
the double marriage waa^ that he wished to keep him on a
low footing constantly, and to have the power of driving him
mad whenever the wliim might take him* The prince also, in
the same letter, reiterates his promise never to take any other
wife than the Princess Amelia. The king consented to the mar-
riage of Frederick of Hanover and Wilhelmina, and the crown
prince seconded this view, hoping that his own would follow;
but to all negotiations of such nature the English Cabinet re-
turned answer, " Both marriages or none,'' and so none took
place between the contracting parties. These thoughts of
flight and marriage occupied the mind of the crown prince as
he went with the king to the camp of Radewitz in June, 1730,
the camp lying about ten miles to the southeast of the town
of MiihJberg.

Ten square miles had been most thoroughly prepared for
the camp, which, in newspaper parlance, was ** gotten up re-
gardless of expense" j the fact that Augustus the Strong was
manager being a guaranty for its success. It was levelled
and swept by engineers ; all the villages were rubbed clean ;
in one was a large slaughter-house, where oxen were killed by
scores, and a bake-house with one hundred and sixty bakers ;
in another was the playhouse ; in another a post-office.
Many wise heads and many more wiseacres wondered what
all this was intended for ; but it was only a diversion contrived
by Augustus to display his own splendor, and kindly to enter-
tain his royal relatives and guests* Three large temporary
bridges were built across the Elbe ; an immense pavilion was

ected on rising ground for the accommodation of spectators

»f rank, and elegantly painted and gilded. On another knoll,

and far more magnificent, was the Haiipt-La^er^ head-quar-

-ters, for their Prussian and Polish majesties, — quarters of

een and gold woodwork, mingled with silken tents and
tapestries, containing all the appointments of a palace, and
much more. Splendidly furnished apartments, filled with
mirrors, pictures, clocks, and sumptuous furniture, alter-
jated with gardens and walks. Other quarters were fitted up
rith billiard and coffee rooms, while the troops were also well
provided for. Notable people flocked to the camp. There

532 carltle's ufe of frbdbrick the obeat. [April,

were the old Dessauer, and young Anspach, jast married to
Frederick William's daughter. Orumkow and Seckendoif
were close by in the king's train, and no end of dakes, coaots,
and ladies, more or less distinguished ; including the Dake of
Mecklenburg, whose wife, as we have already mentioned, wu
the complaisant niece of Peter the Great, and was now dead;
and the Orzelska, about to marry the Prince of HoL»tein-Beck,
which she did, and deserted him two years afterward. All the
details of the camp and its shows were right royally conducted
and successful. Terrific sham-fights, attacks on intrench-
ments, artillery and cavalry manceuvres, bridges blown up, and
naval tactics by a '^ fleet" upon the Elbe, — a fleet of shallops
with silk rigging, — were all perfectly executed, King Augustus
arranging everything, and driving his own curricle around
every morning, to give orders for the day. The illamination
of the Palace of the Genii, <' a gigantic wooden frame, on
which two hundred carpenters have been busy for above six
months," was the most wondrous feat of pyrotechny of that,
and perhaps of any other century, during which Augustus,
seeing that it was a perfect success, and being tired, went to
bed at midnight, leaving his fellow-king and the mob of
dukes, counts, ladies, the army, and the common herd, to gaxe
at it until two in the morning. On the closing day of the
ceremonies, there was an immense dinner given, the whole
army dining in the open air, some thirty thousand men, mak-
ing a brave show, and feasting upon eighty fat oxen, while
three measures of beer and two of wine were served out to
each man. Generous Augustus also gave the table, and all
upon it, at which he and Frederick William and other
magnates had been filled, to be scrambled for by the waiters
and lackeys, some of them rigged out like Turkish Janizaries.
Then their Majesties went out of the Haupt'Lager, and the
colonels and officers of every regiment, preceded by the bands
of music, came up the hill and saluted them, then drank the
royal healths, while the bands discoursed eloquent music, and
sixty pieces of artillery roared in chorus. Meantime Augus-
tus's crowning work had been unveiled to the wonder of mor-
tals. It was a cake twenty feet long, eight feet wide, and two
thick, which, concealed under a tent, and guarded by cadets,

CARLTLB'S life of FREDERICK THE GREAT. 533

was drawn up to head-quarters by eight horses. There it was
formally carved and served to the kings and councillors, the
dukes and counts, thence down through the various grades
of officers, until the remainder was demolished by the army.
This was considered as the end of the show, Augustus having
done enough for one season. He died about three years af-
terward, or he might have meditated even greater deeds. And
so, " what shall we say of August ? History must admit that
he attains the maximum in several things. Maximum of
physical strength; can break horseshoes, nay, half-crowns,
with finger and thumb. Maximum of sumptuosity ; really a
polite creature ; no man of his means so regardless of expense.
Maximum of bastards," including Marshal Saxe and the
Orzelska, ''three hundred and fifty-four of them: probal ly
no mortal ever exceeded that quantity. Lastly, he has baked
the biggest bannock on record ; cake with five thousand eggs
in it, and a ton of butter. These things history must concede
to him."

Buring all this festivity, the treatment of the crown prince
by his father was infamous, although he was as much a guest
of the king of Poland as Frederick William. Ranke says, that,
attracting the regards of many strangers, he was yet ** treated
like a disobedient boy," and beaten without mercy. To add
insult to injury, the king would mock him by taunts, saying,
*' Had I been treated so by my father, I would have blown my
brains out; but this fellow has no honor, — he takes all that
comes." Frederick, determined aUeady on flight, bad plans
on foot in Berlin with Katte, and now made companionship
with another young man, named Keith, who eventually fled
the country and escaped to England. Frederick actually
went to Count von Hoym, the Saxon first minister, and asked
him, in a cursory way, if he could not obtain a sight of Leip-
zig, and get an order there for horses for a couple of olTicers
without passes. Hoym at once suspected his plan, and ad-
vised him not to try it, merely saying, however, that they were
very strict about passes. Keith was soon sent off to the gar-
rison at Wesel, and the prince continued his correspondence
with Lieutenant Katte, and also with Captain Guy Dickens,
the British Secretary of Legation at Berlin, in which he com-
45*

534 oarltlb's ufb of fredericb: thb grbat. [Api!,

municated his plana of escape. Dickens Tiras conseqnently
sent off by Hotham to communicate this news to the fiiitiih
ministry. This was in Jane, 1738, while the camp festiTitiei
were going on. The prince was shortly to attend his father
on a journey to Anspach, and to return by -way of Stottgaid
Thence he would escape to Strasburg, on the French side of
the Rhine, stay there awhile to divert suspicion from hu
mother, and then proceed to England, hoping that England
would take steps to protect his sister. The answer to Ho-
tham's missive was of first-rate diplomacy. The king was very
sorry for the young prince ; was not prepared to say that the
step was or was not advisable. As to the stay in France, that
should be well considered ; and the crown prince was assured
of his distinguished consideration. Hotham, recalled, left
Berlin about a month afterward, Dickens being his snccessor.
Frederick William was in a tornado of rage and regret, be
having insulted the late ambassador in an audience, for which
he made the most abject apologies ; being in a savage fory
also at the state of the marriage projects, doable and single
both being dead by this time, while his fear of Frederick's
flight, and his suspicions of his wife and daughter, all con-
tributed at the same moment, with strong liquors, to goad him
to the ferocity of a tiger. As soon as Hotham bad gone,
Captain Dickens communicated the answer from England to
the crown prince, meeting him and Katte ^ at the gate of the
Potsdam palace at midnight," and still advising delay. The
prince, however, was not disposed to delay, as in a few days
he must start with his father. The prince put into Katte-s
hands a writing-desk, filled with important letters, a thousand
ducats scraped together with difficulty, and even his travelling
coat. Katte was to endeavor to join Keith, who was ready
in waiting at Wesel.

On Saturday morning, July 15, 1730, the crown prince set
out with his father on this memorable journey. They reached
Anspach without incident, passing a short time there with the
Margravine, Frederika Louisa. Frederick made no effort
there, beyond asking the Margrave to lend him a pair of horses,
which request was declined. He was strictly watched mean-
while by his three military attendants, General Buddenbrock,

CARLTIiB'S life of FESD£AI0E tTHB CHEAT.

Colonel Waldaii, and Lieutenant-Colonel Rochow, At An-
spach a letter reached him from Katte, saying that he could
get no furlough, but would join him if possible without one.
The same messenger who brought this from Erlaogen con-
veyed also a note from Rittmeister Katte, the young officer's
cousin, who suspected the plot, to Colonel Rochow, warning

H him as a friend to keep the strictest eye on his high charge* ^d

H Several other attempts on the part of the crown prince failed'S

|H completely. Page Keith, brother of Lieutenant Keith, accom- '

" nanvinf? the roval oartv. and orivv to the designs of the orince. I

panying the royal party, and privy to the designs of the prince,
lost heart, and at Mannheim confessed the whole plan in an I
agony of fear. The king's rage was terrible ; he told the three I
military attendants, that, if the Prince escaped, they should
answer with their heads ; but he dissembled before Frederick
until he should have further proof. He said at Darmstadt, |
** Still here, then ; I thought you would have been in Paris by
this time." The prince coolly replied, " 1 could certainly,
if I had wished/' At Frankfort the prince found that he
was not to enter the town, but to go directly on board of one
of the royal yachts there. The king found news waiting for
him at Frankfort. Rittmeister Katte had intercepted one of
the prince's letters to his unfortunate cousin at Berlin, and ,
deemed it his duty to lay the same before Frederick William*
The monarch's fnry now broke out He went on board the
yacht, and savagely abused and struck his son. At length
the attendants took the prince on board another vessel, and
they floated down the Rhine. Neither son nor sire was in
a mood to enjoy its sublime scenery ; nor did they predici^B
steamboats and crowds of cockney tourists j nor imagine, as^^
they glided past Ehrenbreitstein, that it would belong to Prus-
sia in a hundred years. At Bonn the prince made Secken*
dorf his confidant, saying that, if the king would pardon his
officers, he could bear his punishment, and begged Seckendorf
to intercede for them. Here he also contrived to scrawl a ,
line — " Sauvez-vous, tout est decouvert '^ — to Keith at Wesel,
and to get it safely into the post-olfice, by aid of some anony-
mous friend, Keith received it, stayed not upon the order of
going, but went at once, and safely reached England* Katte
might have escaped also, as he was warned, but he lingered

536

CAELYLE*a LIFE OF KlEBEKICK THE GEEAT,

and was arrested. At Wesel the king had another '
interview with his son ; and as the prince proved leal
morse fill than was expected, the father drew his sword, |
would probably have killed hiio but for old General
the Commandant of Wesel, springing between them, anc
claiming, *' Sire, cut rae to death j but spare your son."
prince was then removed to a separate room, and two sei:
set to keep guard over hira.

The fact of the prince's arrest carried terror into the ,
family and to young Katte, who at once delivered the art^
which Frederick had introsted to him to Madame Find
stein, who gave them to the queen. The writing-desk i
tained many of Frederick's lettersj which would directly^
volve the queen and Wilhelmina. They must be deatrd
and others substituted, and, to add to their trouble, there I
no key to the desk, and a seal upon it. How to remove
letters, and replace them by others meaning nothing, was
puzzle. Woman's wit solved it, the liistorian does not
how ; but the hundreds of fatal billets were conjured out (
burned, when the queen and Wiihelmina went to work j
hurriedly wrote others, vague as British royal speeches^
that papa when he tore the box open made nothing out ofj
contents* How about the handwriting 1 Was that not $
pectcd? Or did the drunken old blockhead accept it al]
Fritz's own? His rage against the queen and daughter <
ceeded all bounds ; he cursed them with such passion, thai
grew black in the face, his eyes darted fire, and his md
foamed. He seized Wiihelmina, beat her in the face withj
fist, knocked her down, and would have kicked her, but fori
royal family rushing between them. Such a noise did th
outrages make, that numbers of people stopped before the |
ace, when the guard turned out to disperse them. Katte, a]
on coming into the king's presence and asking for mercy, 1
spurned and caned. l*age Keith, who had confessed in g<
time, was packed into a regiment at Wesel, and there '
mained all his life. Of the crown prince and Wilhelnj
when under arrest, the king saw nothing again for a full yi
We can hardly have patience with Mr. Carlyle, when e|
these acts of the detestably brutal coward are excusec

I 1859*] CARLTLE*3 LIFE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 537

^moor king, except that he was not conscious of intending
jB^wrong, but much the reverse, wallicd in the hollow night of
Gehenna all that while, and waa often like to be driven mad
by the tarn things had taken/*

Frederick was removed from Wesel to Mittenwalde, and
there examined by Grumkow and other oiliciala, bearing him-
self bravely, although reminded by the minister that the rack
^^w^as not yet abolished in the Prussian dominions, and might
^■be used if necessary to elicit information. The prince, in reply,
^told Grumkow that he was a scoundrel and a hangman to talk
of his tools, though he said in after life that at the moment
1 his blood ran cold. On the 5th of September he was sent to
Ciistrin, about seventy miles east of Berlin. His sword had
I been taken from bim at Wesel, and now he was confined to
a bare room of the fortress, in a mean prison dress, — his al-
lowance fixed at tenpence a day for food, to be cut up for him,
— no knife allowed, no music, no books except the Bible and
prayer-book, — ^ light to be extinguished at seven, P. M* Wil-
helmina was shut up in her apartments in the Berlin palace,
closely guarded, happier even on her diet of hair-soup and
putrid sauer-kraut, than in the presence of her father, who had
80 grossly outraged her as even to accuse her of a criminal
intrigue with Katte, and of having had several children by him.
Any one suspected by the king fared badly ; several people
high in rank and office, the Btilows and Knyphausens, were
cashiered and packed off to Memel ; Lieutenant Spaen, who did
not keep strict watch enough on Katte, was broken, and shut
up for a year in Spandau ; a bookseller who had sold French
w^orks to the prince was also sent to Memel, and a poor girl,
Doris Ritter, was whipped by the beadle and made to beat
hemp for three years — for what ? Because her singing had
u attracted the prince, and he had given her some music.
^H The crown prince*8 trial, as well as Katte's, commenced on
^■the 25th of October, and in six days was concluded. The court
^Bconsi:ited of a president, three major-generals, three colonels,
three lieutenant-colonels, three majors, and three captains ;
also three "auditors" or judge advocates. The prince was
pronounced guilty of desertion, and sentenced to death by all
the members of the court except two major-generals, who dis-

538 carltle's life of Frederick the gbbat. [April,

sented and invoked pardon. Lieutenant Keitb, as an actual
deserter, was condemned to be hanged in effigy, quartered, and
nailed to the gallows at Wesel. Katte, as only intending to
desert, not actually deserting, was to be imprisoned in the
fortress for two years. This mild punishment would not sat-
isfy the savage vengeance of Frederick William. He insisted
on Katte's being sentenced to death by decapitation, and the
court accordingly pronounced such sentence. He insisted, too,
that the crown prince should witness the cruel spectacle, and,
according to most of the historians, be did behold it Coxe
and Mentzel both aver that he did ; Coxe stating that he was
forcibly held up to the window of his cell by four grenadiers,
so as not to escape the horrible sight, — ihat he fainted before
the axe fell, and on recovering saw the headless trunk. Car-
lyle relates that the execution took place out of the prince's
sight, around an angle of the fortress ; but if so, this mercy was
owing to the officers, in tacit disobedience to the brutal king.
Poor Katte bore himself bravely. On Sunday evening, No-
vember 5, it was intimated to him at Berlin that he must start
at once for Ciistrin to die. Accompanied by his major, two
brother officers, and a chaplain, he set off in a carriage, escorted
by a troop of cavalry, and travelled all night. His friends sym-
pathized with him, and he answered cheerily, at times joining
in devotional singing. He arrived at dawn at Ciistrin, and at
nine o'clock was led out to the scaffold, attired in a brown
prison dress exactly like the prince's. " The prince is already
brought down into a lower room," says Carlyle, and Katte,
now attended by two chaplains, approached the window in
the death-cart. In his agony of mind Frederick implored
delay, that he might write to the king ; but in vain, the order
had gone forth. As Katte came on, Frederick called to him
in French : " Pardon me, dear Katte ; O that this should be
what I have done for you ! " '* Death is sweet for a prince I
love so well," replied the victim, and went to his doom, while
the prince sank down in a swoon. By the royal order the
body was exposed all day on the scaffold. At night it was
buried obscurely in the churchyard, and some years after, when
it was safe to do so, the remains were deposited near those
of his family.

CABLYLE'S life of FREDERICK THE GREAT.

539

The sentence upon the crown prince created astonishment
and horror throughout Earope, and direct remonstrance was
made by the States-General, by Sweden, and by Great Brit-
ain ; yet, in spite of the intercession of these high powers, the
sentence would undoubtedly have been carried out, but for
the protest of the Emperor. At length, three months after
Frederick's arrest, it was announced to him that he was not to
die» He, it appeared to the king, was submitting with a con-
trite spirit to the ghostly counsels of Chaplain Miiller, and no
longer refusing belief in " Predestination and the real nature
of Election by Free Grace,'* It was now intimated to him,
that, if he would take a solemn oath to obey his father in all
things, he might yet have another chance of honor. He prom-
ised, and the oath was administered on Sunday, the 19th of
November. He swore to cherish no resentment against the
ministers ; to undertake no journey without permission ; to live
in the fear of God ; and to marry no princess but such as his
father approved. This oath he also signed, when his sword was
restored to him, his prison door was opened, and all present
marched out to church, where they listened to a pointed and
powerful sermon. He did not return to bis prison, but to a
town mansion, — in fact, a kind of small court of his own,
with a major-domo and a few flunkies. He had regained his
sword, but not his officer's uniform, and wore a gray frock with
narrow silver cordings. Here he stayed, engaged principally
in studies of political economy, for fifteen months, every mo-
tion watched, beset with spies and reporters, until the rage of
his father was subdued, and the intriguers of the Tobacco Par-
llamentbegan to suspect that there was more in hira than they
had imagined. No doubt, this period of trial did Frederick
much good, giving him ample time for self-knowledge as to his
position, his wants, and his capabilities. Meanwhile Wilhel-
mina, obeying her father's commands under the pledge of his for-
giveness, signified to Grumkow and others, on the 11th of May,
1731, that she would marry the Prince of Baireuth ; and, in
spite of the queen's opposition, she was formally betrothed to
him on the 3d of Jujie following. The prince's circumstances
gradually improved at Ciistrin. He was not allowed to go
outside of the town, and his resources were very limited, but

■

540 oabltlb's life of fredsrick thb gbbat. [April,

the gentry of the neighborhood subscribed sums of inonej
for his aid, and he found consolation in his books and his
flute, which he managed to regain. A year and three dap
from his arrest, his father came to visit him. At this iote^
view on the 15th of August, 1731, a reconciliation took place,
and the prince enjoyed greater liberty. Not, however, until
the 23d of November did he appear in Berlin, on the occasion
of Wilhelmina's magnificent wedding,* when she was ove^
joyed to see him, but found her caresses coldly returned. The
prince looked proudly upon all, probably to assure them that
his imprisonment had not broken his spirit. The next day be
appeared on the parade, when crowds of people flocked to see
him, and testified their joy. In a few days more he was again
in uniform, that of the Goltz Regiment of Infantry, and on the
29th of February, 1732, he was commissioned to be Colonel
Commandant of the said regiment, when he proceeded to
Ruppin, where it was quartered, about forty miles northeast
of Berlin.

In Ruppin and the neighboring Reinsberg were passed the
next eight years of Frederick's life. He was now twenty
years of age, and until the period of his accession, in 1740, be
saw but little of the capital and its gayeties. We shall pres-
ently speak of his mimic court at Reinsberg. At Ruppin he
was almost wholly occupied with his duties as a soldier, which
he performed even to the satisfaction of his father. He here
thoroughly studied the art of war, and laid the foundation of
that military skill and genius which nerved him through the
fearful crisis of the seven years' strife, when he fought un-
daunted the five great combined powers of Europe, ceding in
the end not one inch of territory, and winning as a conqueror
equal rank with Marlborough and with Wellington.

His own marriage was now approaching. His father, hav-
ing decided on the Princess Elizabeth Christina of Brunswick-
Bevern, wrote to Frederick in his rough manner, proposing the
matter, saying plainly that she was nothing remarkable, neither
ugly nor beautiful. He wished the Prince's views, and would
endeavor to contrive two or three interviews before their roar-

* Not at the wedding itself, bat at a ball in the Berlin palace two or three daja
afterward.

1859.] CARLYIiE'S LIFE OF FREDERICK TUB GREAT. 541

riagp, so that he could become familiar with her looks. He
also promised that Frederick should travel when he had a son,
which he never had, nor daughter, for the best of reasons, as
his wife was a wife only in name. Frederick at once acceded
to his father's wi:$hes, as it was not in his power to do other-
wise ; but in some of his letters to other parties he did not ex-
press his delight, and he hears, he says, that she is a mass of
insipidity, and *' given to pouting." Seckendorf and Austrian
influence were, in fact, at the bottom of this marriage busi-
ness; Elizabeth being a niece of the Empress, and the match,
as it was thought^ promising to prove a new bond on Prussia
in favor of the Pragmatic Sanction, which did not happen to
be the case when Frederick came to the throne and confronted
Maria Theresa. Frederick, in order to please his father, af-
fected much greater dislike of the union than he really felt;
he expressed his fears tliat she was "too religious,'' and said
that he would rather wed the greatest prostitute of Berlin than
a devotee. He seems, in fact, to have made up his mind to
yield to his fate as a necessity, although he felt a respect for his
wife after knowing her ; and, beyond his living apart from her,
always treated her and spoke of her kindly. To Wilhelmina,
especially, he opened his heart, writing, a fortnight after his
betrothal : "As to * kissing of the hands,^ (a ceremony due to
royalty,) I assure you I have not kissed them, nor will kiss
them ; they are not pretty enough to tempt one that way."
Frederick was married to her on the 12th of June, 1733.

With but a short stay in Berlin the crown prince was
again at Rujjpin. His life was now comparatively a happy
one* He found time to pursue his literary studies, history
especially, of w*hich he was passionately fond. He also
plunged deep into military tactics, ancient and modern, hav-
ing many conferences with the old Dessauer on those heads,
and attentively perused, so as to learn by heart, the deeds of
all celebrated generals, from Julius Caesar to Charles XII.
The princess, though a woman of little intellect and awk-
ward manners, contrived soon to accommo(^c herself to her
husband's ways. The king, although he now allowed them
establishments of their own, maintained his frugal habif^, so
that Frederick, by no means wasteful, was obliged secretly to

VOL. Lxxxvin, — NO. 183. 46

542 CARLTLS^S LIFE OF FREDERICK THB GBBAT. [April,

borrow sums of money from England, Austria, and Rassit,
which he repaid on his accession. Frederick William ga?e
him the mansion of Reinsberg, some miles from Rnppiii,
and this castle he proceeded to rebuild and adorn, gathering
around him a select circle of literary companions, and attract-
ing the attention of strangers to the charming abode. Fred-
erick saw no real service in the field until after his accessioD,
with the exception of the unimportant campaign of 1734,
when he displayed intrepidity in reconnoitring the lines of
Philipsburg, and rode unconcerned amidst a continuous dis-
charge of cannon, some of the shot striking the trees just
around him. We' shall close this article with some notice of
the life at Reinsberg, and the last days of *^tbe sergeant
king."

The crown prince and princess took up their residence at
Reinsberg on the 6th of August, 1736, three years after their
marriage. Hitherto the princess had resided in the Berlin
Schloss, or in a country-house of her own at Schonbausen,
while her husband was chiefly at Ruppin ; according to the
mode of life which he had formally adopted from the firat
seeing little of her even as a state puppet She always looked
back through her long life on the four years at Reinsberg
as the happiest portion of it; for, insipid as she was, she
retained some poetical feeling. The architect Kemeter had re-
built and enlarged the old castle for the use of the royal pair
before they came to live in it. It was pleasantly situated on
the edge of a small lake, one of a mesh of lakes, and was 8U^
rounded by " tilled fields, heights called * hills,' and wood of
fair growth." The building was of freestone, (still standing,
though not used now,) quadrangular, with towers at each
corner, and looking eastward over the town of Reinsberg.
Its old formal orchards and gardens were enlarged and beauti-
fied by Frederick, and the house itself much improved and
adorned on the lakeward side by a colonnade with vases and
statues. The mansion contained a great deal of room, and
was elegantly fitted up, without extravagance ; and, beside
stables and extensive offices of all kinds, there was another
house built for the accommodation of guests, containing fifty
lodging-rooms ; also a theatre. The prince had his library in

CAHLTLE'S life 07 TREPERICE TKB QREJiT.

543

one of the towers. There he wrote his letters, and a great
deal of bad poetry* From this room he could saunter out
into the colonnade araong the statues and vases, and look over
the lakes, the little islands, the beech woods and linden ave-
nues stretching far away, and lighted up by the golden sunset
which shone upon this side of the chateau. The princess's
apartments were very fine, decorated and painted in a rich
style of art; and surrounding the palace were gardens, grot-
tos, artificial ruins, parks, rock»work, and orangeries. There
was also a noble music-saloon, not to be forgotten by Fred-
erick. Excepting his duties at Ruppin, within a morning^s
ride, the crown prince was now left master of his time, which
he busily employed in reading, study, and writing, varied by
music and the conversation of well-informed men. Daily, at
a certain hour, a concert was performed ; the musicians num-
bering from eighteen to twenty, the prince himself joining with
his flute. Still, with his court and numerous retainers, Fred-
erick's expenses at Reinsberg never reached $ 15,000 a year.
He had numerous visits to make, a large correspondence to
keep up, and many other duties. He collected about him a
literary set, nearly every one of whom, excepting Voltaire,
who joined his circle at a later period, would now be forgot-
ten but for their connection with the Prince. His correspond-
ence with the celebrated Frenchman commenced as early as
the second month of his Reinsberg life, Frederick- s first letter
being dated the 8th of August, 1736. Frederick's only litera-
ture was French ; he did not understand a word of English,
nor was he sufficiently acquainted with philosophic German
to read it with pleasure. He had even a French translation
made for him of Wolf's " Treatise on God, the Soul, and the
World," finding the original too difficult. Of the German
language, its riches and power, he had no conception, and it
had in truth not yet been irradiated by the splendid genius ol
Goethe, Schiller, and Jean Paul- His admiration of Voltaire
was therefore sincere ; he could imagine no more sublime epic
than the Henriade, nor nobler tragedies than C(Bsar and Alzire.
Voltairc*s reply was equally complimentary, and thus began
a correspondence, which, in spite of bitter quarrels and ridi-
cule of each other's weaknesses, continued through their lives.

544 carlylb's life of Frederick thb great. [April,

Voltaire favored the prince with a sight of bis immortal
manuscripts, and Frederick returned the honor in kind, at
which the poet expressed intense gratitude, while venturing
on a few corrections in grammar. In a complete copy of
Frederick's works, kept in the library of Sans Soaci, and
marked with many notes in Voltaire's handwriting, one finds
a marginal criticism on the word plat^ occurring in three or
four consecutive lines of the same poem : " Voici plus des
plats que dans un trds bon souper." This may serve as the
key-note of his real opinions on all of Frederick's poetry.
Voltaire was not the only favorite, though by far the greatest.
The prince instituted a "Bayard order'* of chivalry, the
knights being his twelve chosen friends. These men were bit-
terly disappointed at his accession, when they found them-
selves no longer used nor useful ; but while the Reinsberg life
lasted, they eat, drank, and were merry.

The crown prince, as we have said, kept up a large corre-
spondence, and his prose letters were always pointed and
lively. One of them, cited by Carlyle, gives a most amusing
account of a morning call he made not far from Reinsberg,
on the family of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, at Mirow. He writes
to his father, that he rode to Mirow and went directly to
the palace, a very small one, with a rampart around it, and
an old tower in ruins which served for a gateway. Getting
upon the drawbridge, he saw a man sitting down, busily
knitting, although in a grenadier's uniform, his musket and
equipments lying on the ground beside him. The prince
passed him in spite of his challenge, whereupon the man
jumped up in a passion, ran to the rain, and called out his
half-dressed corporal, who, not knowing Frederick, scolded
him for passing the sentry. These two composed all the
military force about the palace, at the door of which the
prince now beat for some time in vain. At length it was
opened by a very old woman, who, terrified at the sight of
strangers, slammed it in the face of Frederick and his attend-
ants, who then went off to the stables. Here they learned
that the young prince and his wife had gone a few miles
off to visit some relatives, and, in order to do so with greater
credit, had carried off his whole household, the hall porters

'1859.] carltle's life of f&ederick the great.

and lackeys as well as higher functionaries, the gold and silver
sticks (imitation only at Mirow), leaving nobody in the Schloss
but the one old woman* Very jnuch amused, Frederick took
horse again and galloped after his ho&ts. He at length came
up with them, and they all returned to dinner together at the
Schloss. No sooner there, than Frederick was entertained
with the misfortune that had come upon the head cook, who
with a cart full of provisions had been upset and had
his arm broken^ so that he could not dress the dinner, and
short commons were the result. There was not a word
of truthj as Frederick maliciously discovered by inquiry, in
this story; it w^as a stratagem worthy of Caleb Balderston
when the Lord Keeper and Lucy Ash ton visited the Master

Ravenswood. The royal banquet was worse than the
of the '* Three Crowns" of Potsdam; but the royal
were so well pleased with the prince's visit, that they
offered to return it, and did return it very often, taking all
the court as usual along with them to Reinaberg. This ludi-
crous picture of one of the thousand and one German princi-
palities, before the French Revolution, and still one of the
thirty-tw^o principalities, is not without its moral* Out of
this really abject poverty came at a later date " old Queen
Charlotte*' of blessed memory^ and from old Queen Char-
lotte came the present reigning family of England* We
can readily believe that many loyal John Bulls think very
unkindly of Mr. Carlyle for thus recalling the poverty of the
illustrious house of Mecklenburg- Strelitz,

Details of Frederick's life at Reinsberg are unfortunately
scarce, but such strangers as visited the prince, and haVe left
any remembered record, describe the place as charming, and
presume that his life was equally so. He w^ent to Holland
with his father in the summer of 1738, and at Brunswick on
is return was made a free-mason. The reader will also learn,
to his great satisfaction, that during the same summer Field-
Marshal Seckendorf, who, with Grumkow, should loug since
have been banged, having fallen into disgrace with the Em-
peror for letting a fine army waste away without fighting,
found himself imprisoned at Grtitz, w^here he stayed a long time,

Frederick William's ejctreme sorrow. In 171

cablyle's life of fredeeick the QREAT-

ycar of the Reinsb^rg life, was completed Frederick'i
famous anti-Machiavel treatise, a labored refutation <
ItaiiaiVs " Prince " This work, formerly extolled to thfi
would now be forgotten even by name, but for its royal 1
and it-s great reviser and proof-reader, Voltaire. Its H
would win praise from a modern progressive democratj
only proves that a despot, as Frederick was, may write a
very differently, especially as it was not published unti
his accession, when from the first he manifested his imf
will without scruple. During that same summer of
King Frederick William, accompanied by his son, ma
last journey into East Prussia, and returned home il
never recovered ; but we really cannot follow or syrap
with Mn Carlyle in his pathetic account of the brute'a
speeches and confessions, the bulletins through the ne;
Grumkow, and the moans of the Tobacco ParliamenI
died on the 31st of May, 1740, withio three months
fifty-second birthday, and on the 4th of June was buB
night by officers of the Potsdam giants* On the 23d i
same month a grand funeral ceremony was performed ol
quasi coflin, and on that same night the whole four thq
giants were disbanded, and known no more as grenadill

Let us endeavor to do Frederick William justice, Hj
nomieal reforms were needed, though poshed to an absB
tent. He collected a noble army, and amassed treasury
of which came into play during the next reign. He |
welcomed the Salzburg Protestants, driven by religious q
from their own conntry, — as his grandfather, the Great H
had received the French refugees, — and his charity wa
repaid. Beyond the reach of his cane, his subjects were I
ally happy. But he was a blockhead and a tyrant, fi
entirely unsettled several important claims, which it rei
only a firm front to secure ; he was the dape of Austrii
trigue ; in many cases he oppressed the people of Bed
forcing them to build expensive houses against their will
he created much mischief and unhappiness in recruitil
regiment of four thousand useless monsters. His |
character requires no further comment at our hands.

In conclusion, we have to thank Mr< Carlyle most N

1859.] THE AFTERNOON OP UNMARRIED LIFE. 547

for his great work. In the preparation of this article we have
reperused the larger part of the two volumes, with renewed
pleasure in their learning, careful research, profound philoso-
phy, picturesque and vivid description, and inexhaustible wit.
We shall eagerly look for the succeeding volumes, with the full
portraiture of Frederick II. On their appearance, we propose
a renewal of our task, reviewing, in contrast with the appren-
ticeship of the crown prince, the trials and triumphs of the
warrior and the king.

Art. XIL— critical NOTICES.

1. — The Afternoon of Unmarried Life. From the last London Edition.
A Companion to " Woman's Thoughts about Women." New York :
Budd and Carleton. 1859. pp. 343.

This work, though bearing strong outward resemblance to the
very popular little volume by Miss Mulock, is really by the author
of '^ Morning Clouds." In some respects the tone of thought is similar
in the two writers, and their minds have evidently gone over the same
paths, and arrived at the same healthful conclusions. But in breadth
of treatment and force of expression, as well as in the grasp of intricate
problems and brave attack upon difficulties, Miss Mulock is far the
superior of the two. The quiet and somewhat diffident aspect of
the present volume will add to its charm, with many of those to
whom it is especially addressed. The author is evidently embodying
the result of long and careful thought upon the topics of which she
treats ; and if the extravagant utterances of our more valiant champions
for Woman's Eights have done harm to the cause, they have also done
some indirect service, by drawing more conservative and better-balanced
minds into the same field. We rejoice at every new word spoken in
behalf of this especial class of women, which asserts with dignity their
worth as a social power, and serves to break down the restraints and
the ridicule with which they have too often been helplessly surrounded.
The volume before us contains a great deal of sound common-sense, and
gives excellent counsel on many points. We heartily commend it for
the kindliness of its intention and the frankness of its speech on matters
concerning which silence has ceased to be wisdom.

548 REGOLLBCnONS OF THE LAST FOUR POPJBS. [Apcil,

2. — What will he do with it f By Pisistraius CaxUm. A Nwd. Bj
Sir E. BuL WEB Lttton, Bart New York : Harper and Brothen.
1859. pp. 311.

This tale, which has been dragging its somewhat weaij length
through many numbers of Blackwood's Magazine, now makes its ap-
pearance in an octavo volume of double-columned and rather dingflj-
printed matter. An attack upon so massive a story requires coarage ;
but Bulwer's name is always an attraction, and we have read ^ T¥lbit
will he do with it ? " We hardly advise others to do so, unless thej
have the enforced leisure of a long convalescence to dispose of in mere
amusement This they will obtain ; for the volume possesses, at intei^
vals, much of the poetic charm of the author's style and the spirit of
his plots, though it is sometimes diffuse and complicated. Some of the
digressions are, in length, quite respectable moral essays, garnished with
scraps of Latin, as the cook garnishes his dish with sprigs of parsley.
In the development of the plot, which induces dilemmas ahnost nn-
manageable, too frequent recourse is had to special providences and
inexplicable coincidences ; — a department into which, as we conceive,
the novelist should enter seldom, and with great circumspection. Hie
rarity of these events in real life adds much to theu: impressiveness,
and too free use of them in fiction renders them vulgar as well as
improbable. They can hardly be reckoned among the legitimate re-
sources of the author, or, at least, should be reserved by him for very
extraordinary occasions.

The superabundance of incident, the strong contrasts of character, the
pathos of some of the scenes, and the humor of others, will interest a
large class of readers ; but they cause the critic to regret that, with so
much wealth, so little has been accomplished. We grow more and
more intolerant of elaborate works which involve no especial principle,
develop no new view of life, and add nothing to our knowledge
of human nature. There are so many different ways of doing one or
the other of these things through the medium of a good romance, that
the novel which fails of them all cannot redeem itself from inadequacy
by any elegance of diction or gracefulness of sentiment. We cannot
believe that the present work will add essentially to its author's fame.

3. — My RecolUctiom of the Last Four Popes, and of Borne m their
Times. An Answer to Dr. Wiseman. By Alessandro Gavazzi.
London: Partridge & Co. 1858. 16mo. pp. viii. and 289.

It is not surprising that Cardinal Wiseman's rose-colored " Recollec-
tions of the Last Four Popes " should have elicited an angry reply.

1859.] RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FOUR POPES. 549

Many of the Italian exiles regard the temporal authority of the Popes
as the prolific source of all the evils under which Italy languishes, and
are always ready to attack the advocates of the opposite doctrine with
argument and invective. For such a task it might seem that no one is
better qualified than is Father Gavazzi. The important part which he
has taken in defence of Italian liberties, and the popularity which he
has enjoyed, are matters of historical record. His eloquence must be
equally familiar to many of our readers, who listened to his passionate
appeals in behalf of his native country, and to his vehement denuncia-
tions of the Papacy, during his visit to the United States. We had a
right, therefore, to expect from his pen some important rectifications of
Cardinal Wiseman's statements, and some vivid pictures of Rome in
the last thirty or forty years. But every candid reader will admit that
Father Gavazzi's work scarcely meets these requirements. Its tone is
angry and undignified ; and its pages are thickly strewn with vitupera-
tive epithets, applied indiscriminately to the Popes, the Romish hie-
rarchy, and Cardinal Wiseman. " Thieves " and " mountebanks " are
among the favorite epithets which he adopts ; and the temper in which
he writes is strikingly shown in the closing words of his notice of Leo
XII. This pontiff, he tells us, '< died despised by all, having displeased
all; — the Cardinals, because he would act for himself; the priests,
whose peculations he discovered in his importunate visits ; the liberals,
whom he persecuted with the hatred of Cain ; and his subjects in gen-
eral, whose condition he rendered worse by his ill-digested attempts at
reform. He did well to choose his tomb and write his epitaph himself,
for not even a dog would have undertaken the task after his death." It
is to be regretted that any writer should descend to the use of such
abusive language in an historical work, for it tends to throw doubt upon
his more sober statements, and leads his readers to question the truth of
his most authentic assertions. M. Gavazzi has certainly diminished the
value of his Recollections as materials for history, by the asperity with
which he attacks his opponents. Yet we are inclined to attach consid-
erable importance to the latter part of his volume, particularly to the
chapter upon the Arts, in .his reminiscences of the Pontificate of Greg-
ory XVL Indeed, nearly all that he says about this Pontificate is
interesting, and should be read in connection with Cardinal Wiseman's
sketch of the same period. No two writers could be more entirely
opposite in their descriptions of the same person ; and the extravagance
of one writer may be fairly balanced against the extravagance of the
other.

550 THE SCOURINa OF THE WHITB HORSB. [April,

4. — The Scouring of the White Borse ; or the Ltrng^ VaeaHcn BamUe
of a London Clerk. By the Author of *« Tom Brown's School Dny^'
Illustrated by Richabd Dotle. Botston: Ticknor and FieUflL
1859. 1 Gmo. pp. xiL and 324.

This volume is of a more local and limited interest than was the
manly and vigorous sketch of English school life which first introdooed
its author to American readers. But in every other respect it fullj
sustains his reputation ; and it is pervaded by the same healthful and
thoroughly English spirit which marked his earlier work. It relates
chiefly to the traditions connected with White Horse Hill, in the parkh
of Uffington, in Berkshire ; but it also comprises some charming pictures
of English country life, and the whole is connected by a slight thread of
story. The main purpose, however, is to commemorate the Scouring
of the White Horse, which was celebrated in September, 1857. The
nature and object of this festival may be thus briefly described. Upoa
the side of one of the principal chalk hills in Uffington is carved a rep>
resentation of a horse, covering nearly an acre of gromid. When, by
whom, or for what purpose this figure was first cut, is not known. Ac*
cording to the traditions of the neighborhood, it was made by order of
Alfred the Great, to commemorate one of his victories over the DancSt
It is at least certain that the figure is of great antiquity, and there seems
to be no sufficient reason for doubting the substantial accuracy of the
traditional account From time immemorial it has been the custom of
the neighboring parishes to have a " scouring " at irregular intervals of
time, for the purpose of deepening and cleaning the trenches which
form the figure. These occasions have brought together large multi-
tudes, and have been celebrated with various athletic games and sports.
Printed accounts of some of these festivals are extant ; and the recol-
lections of old men who were present at others furnish some curious
facts in regard to the manner of their celebration. The author of the
volume before us, Mr. Thomas Hughes, was one of the committee in-
trusted with the management of the last scouring; and at the request of
his associates he has prepared this memorial of the festival.

The book is autobiographic in form, — the hero being a London derk
who accepts an invitation from a Berkshire friend to pass his vacation in
the West Country. Accordingly he goes down to the neighborhood of
White Horse Hill, attends the scouring, picks up much local informa-
tion, and finally falls desperately in love with the pretty sister of his
host The plot of the story, if we may venture to designate it so, is veiy
slender ; and the volume derives but little of its interest from the story.
Its real interest and value are to be found in the bits of antiquarian lore

1859.] ROBEKTSOH'S LECTURES AND ADDRESSES. 551

wluch it carefully gathers up, ia its picturesque descriptions of the
games celebrated upon the hill during the two days of the festival, and
in its admirable sketches of rural life in England, llere the author id
entirely at home ; a)id his clear and idiomatic style is admirably suited
to bid subject.

Among the most curious illustrations of his theme which ho has
brought forward, is a copy of the handbill issued previously to tlio
Boouring of 177 G, which enumerate among other prizes, *^ Smocks to be
ran for by ladies, the second best of each prize to be entitled to a silk
hat*' In 17So and in 1803 there were grinniog-matches, in which the
candidates grinned through horse-collars, much in the same manner, we
SQppose, as the fortunate cobbler described in the Spectator, Mr. Hughes
has also interspersed his narrative with some clever songs and ballads
in the Somerset and Berkshire dialects. But perhaps the dnest passage
in the volume is his spirited description of the battle of Ashdown^ which
9tirs the reader as with the blast of a trumpet, and shows a vigor and
Ibrce of imagination greater than Mr. Hughes has anywhere else exhib-
ited. It needs only the harmony of numbers to rival the moat spirited
of modem ballads. At the end of the volume ts a lay sermon on the
proper observance of national festivals ; but it is clear that our author's
strength does not lie in preaching. The Appendix contains some early
notices of the White Horse, and other interesting lustorical memoranda.

5. — Lecturer mul Addreueg oti Literary and Social Topics, By the
late Rev, Frederick W. Kobertsopt, M. A., of Brighton. Bos-
ton : Ticknor and Fields. 1859- 12mo, pp* xxxix* and 318.

Each new volume of Mr. Robertson's remains furnishes new evi«
dence of the richness of his powers, and of the earnest and self-sacri-
ficing spirit in which he labored for the good of other men. Whether
in the pulpit or on the platform, expounding some pregnant passage of
Sacred Scripture, discussing the characteristics of Wordsworth's poetry,
or addressing words of hearty cheer lo a Workingmen's Institute, it
was always with a single eye to the moral and religious benefit of his
bearers that he spoke. His Sermons are among the most valuable
contributions to our recent religious literature ; and the Lectures and
Addresses before us are marked by the same qualities of mind and
heart which have given popularity to tlie previous bsues of his works.
The volume opens with an interesting Preface^ embodying some new
facts in regard to Mr. Robertson's well-spent life, and enriched by
numerous quotatioas from his letters* Following this are two Ad-

552 OAHBBIDaE PRIZE POEMS. [April,

dresses delivered before the Workingmen's Institute at Brightoo; —
the first an opening address upon the formation of the Institute, setting
forth the objects for which it was formed, the means by which thej
might be best carried out, and the dangers to be avbided in its manage-
ment ; and the other delivered at a time when internal dissensions were
threatening its continued existence^ A considerable minority of tiie
members had sought to introduce into the library of the Institute boob
believed bj the majority, and bj most of the friends of the enterprise, to
be of pernicious tendency. In this conjuncture Mr. Robertson vokui-
tarily came forward with an earnest and manly address to the memben,
which shows at once the depth of his o^wn convictions, the generosity of
his nature, and his unabated interest in the success of the InstiOite.
Next we have two judicious and well-considered Lectures on the Influ-
ence of Poetry on the Working Classes, discussing the nature of poetiy,
and the manner in which it influences and elevates men in genera], and
workingmen in particular. The last of the more elaborate addresses
in the volume is an appreciative lecture on the poetry of Wordswortb^
which Mr. Robertson appears to have studied thoroughly, and to have
admired with his whole heart The last fifty pages comprise several
brief speeches, and the notes of an address on the Working Classes.
In all, we see the earnest and conscientious thinker bringing to the task
before him the results of patient reflection, and clothing the whole in
language of beauty and force, with no selfish ambition to gratify, but
simply intent upon performing his duties in the most eflicient manner,
and amply satisfied with being in some degree helpful to others.

Wc are gratified to learn from a foot-note to the Preface, that a vol-
ume of '^ Letters on Theological, Philosophical, and Social Questions "
is in the course of preparation for the press.

6. — A Complete Collection of the English Poems which have obtained
the Chancellor's Gold Medal in the University of Cambridge, New
and Enlarged Edition. Cambridge [England] : MacmiUan & Co,
1859. IGrao. pp.351.

The Chancellor's Gold Medal in the University of Cambridge was
first given in 1813 ; and in the forty-six years which have since elapsed,
some of the most eminent statesmen and scholars in England have re-
ceived this mark of distinction before leaving the University. Among
the most celebrated names on the list are those of Dr. Whewell, Lord
Macaulay, W. M. Praed, Sir E. B. Lytton, Dr. Christopher Words-
worth, and Alfred Tennyson ; and several of the poems would do no

1859.] H STORY OF THE KNIGHTS OP MALTA. 653

dishonor to men of much riper years than were the recipients when
they won their first youthful honors. In other cases the merits of the
Terse are by no means conspicuous ; and it is evident that there was
but little competition, or that the standard by which the examiners
measured the excellence of the poems could not have been very high.
Nevertheless, the volume possesses a special interest, as a collection of
the earliest productions of men who have since become eminent in so
many different departments of literary endeavor. Most of the pieces
are characterized by smoothness of versification rather than by depth
or originality of thought. Perhaps the best piece, as a whole, is Ten-
nyson's Timbuctoo which received the prize in 1829, although some of
the other poems contain more striking passages. It may be worth no-
ticing, that in several instances the medal was more than once adjudged
to the same person. Thus Lord Macaulay was successful in 1819 and
again in 1821, Praed in 1823 and 1824, Dr. Christopher Wordsworth
in 1827 and 1828, W. C. Kinglake in 1830 and 1832, and one com-
petitor, Edward H. Bickersteth, obtained the prize for three successive
years, 1844, 1845, and 1846. During the whole time there have been
but three years in which the medal was not adjudged to some com-
petitor.

7. — A History of the Knights of Malta, or the Order of the Hospital of
St. John of Jerusalem. By Major Whitwobth Porter, Royal
Engineers. London : Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans, and
Roberts. 1858. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. xvi. and 518, 522.

This work is the fruit of original research, and is in several respects
an important contribution to historical literature. Its author's residence
in Malta gave him access to numerous unpublished documents in the
Record Office, and to the valuable collections in the Public Library of
the island; and from personal friends who have made the subject a
special study he also received much assistance. The result is a thor-
ough and careful account of the internal condition and the foreign rela-
tions of the Order, from its formation in the eleventh century to its in-
glorious expulsion from Malta by the French under Bonaparte in 1798,
in the time of Ferdinand de Hompesch, the sixty-ninth Grand-Master.
In this long period it underwent some important modifications and
passed through various fortunes, gradually changing its character from
a mere charitable body of religious men to a great military and politi-
cal organization, and transferring its principal field of operations from
the plains of Palestine to the Mediterranean Sea. Through all these
changes Major Porter conducts his readers, illustrating each successive

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. 183. 47

554 DAVY'S FRAGMENTARY REMAINS. [April,

period with indefatigable labor, and presenting a more vivid sketch of
the gradual rise, decline, and overthrow of the Order than we have
seen from any previous writer. Especially in regard to its internal
affairs and government are we indebted to him for much new informa-
tion ; and among the chapters which will be read with most interest are
those relating to the revenues, expenditures, festivals, councils, and crim-
inal records of the Order, and to the history of the Order in England.
Upon all these points Major Porter has collected a great number <^
curious and instructive details from the most trustworthy authorities.

His style is deficient in those graces which a more practised writer
would have given to a narrative so rich in brilliant events, and there
are some painful attempts at fine writing. But it must be admitted
that the worst written passage in either of the two volumes is the com-
mencement of the first chapter ; and in no other instance has he de-
scended to such mere nonsense as at the close of his last chapter. Be-
tween these extreme points, his style, though never elegant and not always
correct, is sufficiently clear and explicit. His military education has
given him much skill in the description of battles and sieges ; and the
best portions of his History are those devoted to the two sieges of
Rhodes and to the heroic defence of Malta by La Valette, which has
also been described with admirable clearness and force by Mr^ Prescott
in his History of the Reign of Philip IL

In the Appendix are numerous important documents, including a list
of the Grand-Masters, a translation of the« letter from the Grand-l^Iaster
Peter D'Aubusson to the Emperor of Germany, containing a narrative
of the first siege of Rhodes, and some interesting extracts from a man-
uscript history of the fortifications of Malta. The volumes are also
enriched by portraits of L'Isle Adam and of La Valette from the origi-
nal paintings in the palace at Malta, and by some other illustrations.

8. — Fragmentary liematns, Literary and Scientific^ of Sir Humphry
Davy, Bart., late President of the Royal Society, etc. With a
Sketch of his Life, and Selections from his Correspondence. Edited
by his Brother, John Davy, M. D., F. R. S. London: John
Churchill. 1858. 8vo. pp. 330.

The materials of which this volume is composed are neither exten-
sive nor very valuable. They consist almost exclusively of letters, and
a few note-books which came into Dr. Davy's possession on the death
of his brother's widow in May, 1855. These he has connected by some
explanatory remarks, and by a succinct sketch of Sir Humphry Davy's

1859.] Davy's fragmbntary remains. 555

personal history, referring the reader for fuller details to the Life of
Davy by Dr. Paris, and to the two Memoirs by himself. Dr. Davy's
style is singularly awkward and ill-compacted ; and we have rarely
seen a worse written work by any educated person. A school-boy who
should not write a more correct English style, would be a proper sub-
ject for discipline. His arrangement too is confused and defective ; and
the selections from his brother's correspondence are printed with very
little regard to chronological order. Indeed, Dr. Davy's conception of
the duties of an editor appears to be restricted to a vague notion that
letters addressed to the same person should, if possible, be printed to-
gether. Hence, we have on one page a letter written in 1826, and on
the next page a letter written in 1821 ; and this confusion prevails
throughout the volume. Many of the letters, too, are printed without
their dates ; and it is only by the internal evidence that the reader can
conjecture to what period they belong. We may also add, that good
taste would have suggested to Dr. Davy the propriety of abstaining
from any unfavorable remarks in reference to his brother's widow.
Whatever infelicities there may have been in any part of Sir Humphry
Davy's married life, it is certainly indecorous for any member of his
family to bring the subject before the public, and to assert that his wife
*^ was not qualified for domestic life," and that she was neither happy
in herself, nor fitted to impart happiness to others.

The most interesting portions of the volume are the letters from the
poets Southey and Coleridge,, and those from Sir Humphry to his wife
during his last illness. There are also two letters from Miss Edgeworth,
relative to her father's book on Professional Education, and numerous
other familiar letters. The selections from Davy's note-books are
mostly confined to brief memoranda, suggested by his reading or his
experiments. Several poetical pieces, composed at difierent periods of
his life, have, however, been selected from them, and are scattered
through the volume, but they do not possess mnch poetical merit ; and
the only one which is at all noticeable is a short piece written upon
seeing a pair of eagles teaching their young to fiy. This we may ven-
ture to cite, although it is printed in Davy's collected Works : —

** The mighty birds still upward rose
In slow bat constant and most steady flight.
The yoang ones following ; and they would pause,
As if to teach them how to bear the light,
And keep the solar glory full in sight.
So went they on, till from excess of pain
I could no longer bear the scorching rays ;
And when I looked again they were not seen,
Lost in the brightness of the solar blaze.

556 VAPEREAU'S DICTIONNAIRB UKIYSBSEL. [April,

Their memory left a type and a desire :
So should I wish towards the light to rise,
Instructing younger spirits to aspire
Where I could never reach amidst the skies,
And joy below to see them lifted higher,
Seeking the light of purest glory's prize :
So would I look on splendor's brightest day
With an nndazzled eye, and steadily
Soar upward full in the immortal ray,
Through the blue depths of the unbounded sky,
Portraying wisdom's matchless purity ;
Before me still a lingering ray appears,
But broken and prismatic, seen through tears.
The light of joy and immortality."

Though most of the papers and letters in this volume are of com-
paratively little interest and value, we think that they leave in the
reader's mind a higher idea of Davy's personal character, and of his
uniform devotion to science, than has been sometimes entertained. His
reputation in his own day was very great ; and his lecture-room was a
place of fashionable resort But it has sometimes been doubted whether
this fame had a solid foundation. De Quincey somewhere says,
*' Of all the eminent persons whom I have ever seen, even by a
casual glimpse, Davy was the most agreeable to know on the terms of
a slight acquaintance ** ; and he further expresses the opinion, that this
impression would not have been altered for the worse on a closer 000-
nection. From Davy's private and familiar correspondence it is easy
to discover those personal qualities which made him so popular in the
lecture-room and in society ; and it is also clear that even in the midst
of social enjoyments, and when most immersed in fashionable life, he
did not relax his interest in scientific pursuits. He still prosecuted his
researches with that persistent energy which gave him a place, as Lord
Brougham happily ex^jresses it, " highest among all the great dis-
coverers of his time." It is on his discoveries, rather than on his lec-
tures or his printed papers, that his fame must rest.

9. — Dtctionnaire Universel des Contemporains, contenant touies Us
Personnes notables de la France et des Pays Strangers, cxvec leurs
Noms, Prenoms, Sumoms, et Pseudonymes, le Lieu et la Dale de
leur Naissance^ leur Fatm'lle, leiirs Debuts, leur Profession^ leurs
Fonctions Successives, leurs Grades et Titres, leurs Actes PuhiicSj
leurs (Euvres, leurs Ecrits et les Indications Biblioyraphiques qm s^y
rapportent, les Traits caracteristiques de leur Talent, etc, Ouvrage

1859.] VAPERBAU'S DICTIONNAIRE UNIVERSEL. 657

r6dig6 et continuellement tenu k jour, avec le Concours d'Ecrivains
et de Savants de tous les Pays, par G. Vapebeau, ancien Eleve de
TEcole Normale, Ancien Professeur de Philosophie, Avocat h la
Cour Imp^riale de Paris. Paris: Hachette. 1858. 8vo grand,
pp. 1814.

It is hardly possible to over-estimate the immense labor and difRculty
of making a good dictionary of living celebrities. In a proper bio-
graphical dictionary, which is mainly concerned with the dead, the ma-
terials are found in libraries and in published works, and the labor is
mostly that of selection and condensation. But in the case of those
whose story has not yet been written, there is far greater embarrass-
ment. Only a correspondence fearful to think of can procure for any
editor, or any set of editors, the necessary materials. This Herculean
work, to which M. Vapereau devoted himself for four years, with an
extraordinary fidelity, perseverance, and skill, has at last been given
to the public, and accomplished so far as a really endless task ever
can be.

M. Vapereau's qualifications for editing such a work are modestly
stated in the short notice of him contained in the book itself. He was
born in 1819 ; was first a student in the College of Orleans, where he
took the first prize for philosophy in 1838 ; afterward a pupil of the
Normal School ; then Private Secretary to Cousin ; then Professor of
Philosophy in the College of Tours, where he published an octavo in
defence of modem metaphysical science ; and, in 1854, he was ap-
pointed by Messrs. Hachette to superintend this great encyclopedia of
contemporary biography. The execution of the work fully vindicates
their choice. An examination, frequently renewed, and for hours
together, enables us to say that it is wonderfully exact, and far nearer
completeness than any one could have expected in a work of such difli-
culty. There are mistakes, of course, but they are much slighter and
fewer than in most biographical dictionaries that we have examined.
The book, on the whole, is an amazing monument of industry, patience,
candor, good judgment, and good taste. It is a book of facts, hot of
fine writing ; yet the sketches are not so condensed as to become dry or
obscure. We say decidedly, that we have never owned a book of ref-
erence which we have used so often, or with such satisfaction, within
the same length of time. It accomplishes more nearly what it pre-
tends to accomplish, than any cyclopaedia of biography that we have
ever seen.

Of course, the mistakes and omissions in the American department
of the work are those which we shall most readily notice. We are
47 •

558 l'homme db neiqb. [April,

surp'rised to learn that Utica is in Massachusetts ; that Hillard is an
editor of the North American Review ; that Caleb Gushing has been
a Senator in Congress ; and that Holmes as a poet lacks inspiratioD.
We marvel that, while two columns are given to Franklin Pierce, the
name of Benjamin Peirce, one of the few Americans who are members
of the Bojal Society, should be wholly omitted. We look in vain for
the names of the astronomers Bond, father and son, though these are
frequently mentioned in the pages of French scientific journals. While
Munk and Salvador receive careful attention, no mention is made of the
American Rabbi Raphall, whose History is at least as important as
theirs. The omission of William Lloyd Garrison, one of the repre-
sentative men, not only of America, but of a leading movement of the
age, seems unaccountable. Even more strange is the omission of some
names from the English department, as, for instance, the theologians
Jowett and Stanley, the physiologbt W. B. Carpenter, the historian
Buckle, and the preacher Spurgeon. We miss some important names
also from the German list, — Bohringer of Zurich, Hilgenfeld <^
Tubingen, Philipssohn of Magdeburg, Spiegel the linguist, Mohr the
chemist, and many others.

But such defects as these are insignificant, compared with the many
and signal excellences of this magnificent work. We trust that the
other cyclopaedias which Hachette proposes to publish may be as suc-
cessful as this.

10. — 1. lues Fiances du Spitzherg, Par X. Marmier. Paris:

Hachette. . 1859. 18mo. pp. 422.
2. V Homme de Neige, Par George Sand. 8 Parties. Revue

des Deux Mondes, Juin h. Septembre, 1858.

TuE high latitudes ought not, one might think, to offer a very at-
tractive field to novel-writers. Ice islands, frozen mist, nine months
of winter, and a thermometer forty degrees below zero, are hardly
congenial with the passion of love. Yet the books at the head of this
notice prove that as entertaining romances may be constructed with
boreal scenery as with that of Italy or Palestine. The narratives of
Bayard Taylor, of Dr. Kane, and of Lord Dufierin furnish ample mate-
rial which none understand better how to work than iYiefemUetan artists
of Paris. George Sand's last novel, in which the scene is laid amid
the snows of a Swedish winter, is in some respects the best work of
that strong and gifled writer. Its moral tone is pure, its philosophy is
elevated, its pictures of character and manners are admirably exact, its

1869.]

BABTH^S TRAVELS AND DISCOVERIES.

559

plot U most ingeniously constructeH, and the mystery in it stiited, to tlic
season and the place, is free from tUat morbid scepticism vvhicli vitiates
most of Madame Sandys productions. Tlie " Man of Snow " is a story
equally fasiinating and instructivet and ought to find speedily an Eng-
lish translator.

As a novel, the ♦^ Fianc<'s du Spitjtherg ** h far inferior to " L* Horn me
de Neige.** M. Marmier, thougli a graceful writer, has not sufiicicnt
invention or suflicient skill in romance to construct a jiowerful story*
He can sketch well, hut he is not an original creator. lie has trav-
elled extensively in Europe, Africa, and America, and has published
graphic accounts of his travels ; he is equally familiar with Iceland
and Algiers, with the Baltic and the Adriatic, with tlie Rhine and the
Nile ; he is a polyglot in his knowledge of languages, interpreting
equally well the rude dialects of Lapland and Poland, and the stately
periods of the Old Ca;stilian; he is a poet of moderate fancy, and quick
sensibility to the beauties of Nature ; he is a practised journalist^ a
firequent and favorite writer in the reviews, and an excellent lecturer ;
he has received from the literary societies, the reading public, and the
government of France abundant testimonials of honor and favor ; and
he is ranked with the most distinguished men of science and letters in
the French capital. Few writers of the day have been more industri-
ous or more successful. His published works, though he is under fifty
years of age, number nearly forty volumes.

11. — Traveh and Dtscat^eries in ^oHh (tnd Centfvl AfricoL Being
a Journal of an Expedition undertaken under tlie Auspices of
H. B. Ifl/s Government, in the Years 1849-1855. By Henry
Barth, Ph. B., I). C. L. Vol III. New York ; Harpers. 1859.
8vo. pp. 800.

The preceding volumes of this work have already been noticed at
length in this Review. The volume just issued, containing the sub*
stance of the fourth and fifth volumes in the English edition, completes
the series. This work of Barth, if not the most entertaining, is cer-
tainly the most learned and pennanenlly valuable work which has ever
been written about Africa. There is, however, in the present volume,
no lack of interest to a patient reader. The latter half, by giving the
account of a second residence In the cities described in tLc previous
volumes, brings out more distinctly their curious and attractive feature-s ;
and all that part of the volume which treats of the city and country of

560 EVANS ON THB SHAKERS. [April,

Timbuctoo is of the very highest interest. In his sketches of this re-
gion, and his journeys to and fro in it, of its natural scenery, its indastrial
customs, and the character and condition of its various tribes, Dr. Barth
is not only always acute and accurate, but he is, what in the previous
volumes we could not discover him to be, frequently humorous, and oc-
casionally eloquent. There is less that the reader will wish to skip in
this volume than either of the two preceding, and the pages are yerj
little encumbered by those heavy notes which every Grerman schokur
feels bound to add to his text In compensation for that blessed ex-
emption Dr. Barth gives us sixteen Appendices in a hundred and fifty
pages of small type, devoted to chronology, philology, meteorology,
geography, and ethnology, — dry, erudite, and thorough enough to sat-
isfy any pedant. The vocabulary of the Temashight tongue is so full,
that it might serve all the uses of a student in that possibly future
polite language. The parable of the '^ Prodigal Son," as pronounced
in this language, is not unmusical, and might make an excellent exerdse
for the vocal organs. The two poems of the Sheik El Bakay, in the
eighth Appendix, are pleasant specimens of Arabic satire ; and the
song of Sheik Othman, in the third Appendix, is as musical as the
average of English hymns.

We hope that some record of Dr. Vogel may yet enrich the narra-
tive of discoveries in Africa, and that Lieutenant Burton will briog
back from his dangerous adventure pictures of that central plateau
which now of all the parts of the African continent alone remiuns
unexplored.

12. — Shakers. — Compendium of Oie Origin, Histcry, PrincipUs,
Rules and Regulations^ Government and Doctrines of the United
Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing. With Biogra-
phies of Ann Lee, WiUiam Lee, James Whitaker, J. HockneO, J.
Meacham, and Lucy Wright. By F. W. Evans. New York : D.
Appleton «fc Co. 1859. 12mo. pp. 190.

This comprehensive manual of Shakerism will be found very con-
venient for those who seek correct information concerning the tenets
and the methods of the followers of Mother Ann Lee. In a clear and
readable style, with apparent fairness, and with the earnestness of sin-
cere belief, Mr. Evans here makes known to the world the temper of
that body in which he is a devoted minister. He does not appear as
an apologist, excusing the views which his people hold of the union of
the sexes, the duality of God, and the four cycles of heaven and

1859.]

PITSON S CEE8CKNT AND FRENCH CBUSABERS.

561

hell; — nor docs ho press as an advo<*jite thu clmmcterisiic ideas of his
people against those of other churches. His statement is calm and
scientifK', and is fortified rather by fuloefs of Sex-iptural quotation
than by rational argument.

The exegesis on which Shakerism, as described by Mr, Evans, seems
to be based, will eeem to most Biblical students original, if not ludicrous.
The interior sense of the Word is hero brought out as none of the alle-
goristJi, from Origen to Swedenhorg, have revealed it. To uninitiated
readers the conuection between the texts cited and the doctrines which
they support must appear very remote ; and they will turn with more
satisfaction to I he gtalistical details concerning the sect, in despair of
fully understanding its theology, or of appreciating its ethieo. These
details give the number of Shaker communities in the United States
as eighteen j two in Mainei two in New Hampshire, four in Massa-
chusetts, one in Connecticut, three in New York, four in Ohio, and
two in Kentucky. 1 he number of members in all these communities
is about forty-five hundred. The largest and oldest Shaker commu-
nity is that at New Lebanon in New York, near the borders of Mas-
sachusetts. It nambers six hundred members. Next in size is the
community at Union Village, Ohio, which has ^vet hundred members.
The foundation of the sect in this country dates from August 6,
1774, when Mother Ann Lee completed her Heglra and hmded at
New York.

The perpetuation and growth of the Shaker sect is of course wholly
by conversion. We know no facts to disprove Mr, Evans's assertion^
that the Shakers, men and women, are true to their principles. The
lives of their saints, which he appends, if not very remarkable, are at
least as good as many which appear in the Romish Calendtir. Shaker
Uterature, including the present treatise, seems to be limited to nine
works, five of which are pam|)hlet8.

13. — Th<* Crescent and French CS-rtsaders. By G. L, DiTSON.
York : Derby and Jackson. 1859. 12mo, pp. 371.

New

This volume is a great improvement on the previous works of Mr.
Ditson. The work on ** Circassia" was tedious and disuse; and the
ivretcbed ty|>ography of the " Para Papers " was not well redeemed
either by the value of the matter or the grace of the style. In this new
volume on Algeria, (to which the title, it may be remarked^ is not very
appropriate.) Mn Ditson has gathered a considerable amount of valuable
information, and has given the results of* reading and travel in a quite

662 RECORDS OP NEW HAVEN. [April,

readable diction. The egotism of the previous volumes is not whoUj
avoided, yet it is here much less annoying. The different races of Alge-
ria, Moors, Kabyles, Bedouins, and Jews, — the cities, Algiers, Ck>Dstan-
tine, Batna, Oran, Bona, — the seaboard, the mountains, and the desert, —
all come into the account, and, if not very graphically presented, have
at least each its individuality. A journey to Tunis and the site of
Carthage is included in the survey, and notice is taken of the recent
discoveries of Rev. N. Davis on that site. Where the author confines
himself to facts, he is much more edifying than in his curiously made-
up reflections. His meditations on the mosaics of Tunis, on the ^ boa-
doirs" of an ante-Christian era, on "the Phoenician dame,** on ^a
Dido*s queenly train glowing with Tyrian dye," are amusing specimens
of bathos. Such fine passages, however, rarely occur in the volame.
In his historical sketches the author is less at home than in his descrip-
tion of cafes and costumes.

The marked peculiarity of this, as well as of Mr. Ditson's other books
of travel, is an overweening fondness for pictures of female beanty, and
the dress and habits of women. The excess in this style of portraiture
will tire those readers whom it does not vex and disgust. Another on-
pleasant feature of this author's writings is his light and superficial tone
of remark about moral and religious movements. He sneers at the tem-
perance societies and the " fanatics of New England."

A great merit of this volume is its moderation of statement There
are no draughts on the reader's credulity, and no attempts to amaze by
accounts of dangerous adventure. Mr. Ditson's travel in Africa seems
to have been as safe as his travel in France, and he has no disposition
to enhance its difficulty or peril.

14. — 1 . Records of the Colony and Plantation of New ffaven, from 1 638
to 1G49. Transcribed and edited in Accordance with a Resolution
of the General Assembly of Connecticut. With occasional Notes and
an Appendix. By Charles J. Hoadly, M. A. Hartford : Printed
by Case, Tiffany, & Co. for the Editor. 1857. 8vo. pp. 547.

2. Records of the Colony or Jurisdiction of New Haven, from Mayy
1653, to the Union. Together with the Neio Haven Code of 1^5^, '
Transcribed and edited in Accordance with a Resolution of the Gen-
eral Assembly of Connecticut By Charles J. Hoadly, M. A.
Hartford : Printed by Case, Lockwood, & Co. 1858. 8vo. pp. 626.

We have in these two carefully edited volumes another contributtcm
to the primary sources of history. The towns which formed the origi-

1859,]

UECORDS OF NEW HAVEN-

nal jurifitlktion of New Haven were founded with the intent of consti-
tuting thera distinct governments. Of these, (lie strongest and wealtlii-
eeil >vas New Havens This, with tlie tive settlements of Stamford,
Southold, Bmnford, (.Tuilford, and Milford, made up the jurisdiction,
which, in its turn, was afterwards united in chartered rights with the Con*
neetieut Colouj. The former of the two volumes contains the Records
of the Colony of New Haven while it stood alone, the beginning of the
Records of the Jurisdiction, and the Records of the Plantation up to
the year 1 G50, With the ejcception of a record of the proceedings at
two Courts during the interval from April, 1044, to May, 1G53, the
original records for that whole space are missing, and have been so for
about a century, at least ; nor is there any known copy of them. The
second vohime above named comprises alt the remaining records of the
jurisdiction of New Ilaven, to the time of the Union, which are known
to be in existence, together with the Colony Code of 165G»

The editor of these volumes wns intrusted with the office of transcrip-
tion and publication by State patronag*^. lie seems to have done his
work with gi*eat care and with perfect fidelity, keeping close to the
original in spelling and punctuation, allowing old times to come to the
light of modeni eyes in t!ie old garb, and aiding the imagination of the
reader to make himself a party to the matters rehearsed on the page.
The few and modest notes which he has introduced lead us to wish that
he had made a more liberal use of his privilege in that respect.

In the first of the volumes is an extended narrative of the proceed-
ings in a criminal case which ought never to have been transferred to
type. The editor seems himself to have been led to adopt this judg-
ment, as, in his second volume, he suppresses the most revolting details
of Bimilai" cases.

Taking into view the substantial contents of both volumes, their spirit,
variety of matter, and uniform tone of earnestness, ^ — ^as if what was
done within narixjw limits and homely bounds was, after all, of the
very essence of universal and eternal legislation, — they present to ua
phenomena of rare significance and interesL '"The Court/' whose
records are spread before us, seems at some times to be legislating for a
widc*spread commonwealth, and then it penetrates with its functions
.into the privacy of families and the secTets of human breasts, and as-
sumes offices which would be regarded as tyrannical now if they were
discharged by the head of a household. The sterling and heroic virtues
of the leading men and women in those ancient enterprises for founding
slates, are vividly brought to view. No reiider can fail to be impressed
with the high-souled integrity, the deep conscientiousness, the profound
sense of responsibility, with which ilie magistrates of those days ad«

664 allibone's dictionary op authors. [April,

ministered their trust. Their province extended over all the interests of
life, and though we cannot but marvel at the sternness of their rule,
and question at times whether their way of dealing with sinners did
not strengthen the power of sin, we are made to admire the impartiality
and sincerity of their proceedings. It was easier for them to draw the
cords of authority to their utmost tension, than it would have been to
attempt to administer a '^ Christian Commonwealth " by lax and irreso-
lute measures. The only kind of legislation which is consbtent with
the convictions and aim of Puritanism, is Puritan legislation. The
world, at present, will not bear that. The first trial of it was a very
thorough one.

We copy from the revision of the Court Orders the following fore-
most principle of Puritan legislation : —

<* In the layinge of the first fowndations of this plantation and jurisdiction,
vpon a full debate with due and serious consideration, it was aggreed, con-
cluded and setlcd as a fundamentall law, not to bee disputed or questioned
hereafler, that the judiciall lawes of God, as they were deliuered by Moses,
and expownded in other parts of Scripture, so farr as they are a fence to the
morrall law and neither tipicall, nor ceremoniall, nor had refierencc to Canaan,
sbalbe accounted of morrall and binding equity and force, and as God shall
helpe shalbe a constant direction for all proceedings here, and a generaU rule
in all courts of Justice how to judge betwixt partie and partie, and how to
punish offenders, till the same may be branched out into perticulers hereafter.*

The ^^ perticulers " proved to be all.neededy especially in cases c(
witchcraft. With an unflinching resolution was the Mosaic code, as
limited above, imposed in the Jurisdiction, and, in the main, it tended
to peace, soberness, and righteousness.

15. — A Critical Dictionary of English Literature^ and British and
American Authors, Living and Deceasedy from the Earliest Accounts
to the Middle oftlie Nineteenth Century, Containing Thirty 21u>u-
sand Biographies and Literary Notices, with Forty Indexes of Sub-
jects, By S. Austin Allibone. Vol. I. Philadelphia:- Child
and Peterson. 1858. 8vo. pp. 1005.

Though we have been aware of the author's indefatigable industry
in collecting, and conscientious care in verifying, the materials for this
great work, the half of it now before us surpasses our highest expecta-
tion. Its afiluence in names may be judged of by the fact, that it enn-
merates no less than two hundred authors bearing the name of Jones, of
whom twenty-one are designated by the unmodified prefix of William.

1859,]

ALLIBOKE'S DICTIONARY OF AOTHORS.

565

The Smitlid iippear in the uext volumci and were we to reveal tlio num-
ber of Smiths who arc to be thei^e coinmenioratcd as hook-wrlghts, wc
should bardly be believed. Of course many names, in such n Diction*
ary, must be dismissed with the briefest notice, yet in every ease we
have the titles of the author's works, and the places and dates of their
publication. From this minimum, in the ratio of interest and impor-
tance^ the notice is expanded so as to embrace a succinct biography of
each more distinguished writer, with a characterization of hia works
and ft collection of the opinions of critics upon them. The proportion-
ate length of each sketch seems adjusted, not by any peculiar prefer-
ences or prejudices of the author, but in accordauce with the place,
or no place which its subject occupies in the regards of the English
and American public. The meed of fame is thus measured with an
impartial justice quite RhadamanthLne. Mr. Allibone has, for the most
part, as we have indicated, in lieu of his own opinions, given those of
well-known writers and leading periodical presses on both sides of the
Atlantic; and tliese may be taken as fair exponents of the contem-
porary public verdict, so that we learn what each author seemed, to
those most nearly interested in ascertaining his actual merits.

Perhaps the most remai'kable and elaborate article in this volume
is that on Junius. Xn this we have, first, an analysis of the Junius Let-
ters, with notices of editions, followed by a list of forty-two persons to
whom their authorship has been attributed. Then there is a com-
plete list of the books and ai'ticles urging the claims of Sir Philip Fran-
cis, Lord Germaine^ and Colonel Barre, respectively ; and then a list
of publications advocating the titles of the remaining candidates for this
ambiguous honor, or otherwise discussing the merits and history of the
original letters. Interspersed with this mass of materials are numerous
illustrative extracts from various writers, the whole constituting a full
and satisfying compend of this most voluminous department of Eng-
lish literature.

Our deseription of this one article may be taken as characterizing,
mutatis mtUamfis, the labored and exiiausting thoroughness manifested
under every leading title throughout the volume.

We feel justified in saying that this work fills a place among refer-
ence-books, to which there Ijave previously been only distant ap-
proaches. It must find its way into eveiy library*, public or private,
worthy of the name, lie who has it at hand will wonder that he could
ever have dispensed with it. It is also as attractive to the reader as
it is useful to the student^ and our only fear is fnom the temptation
we find, almost daily, to wander from the title on which we consult it,
to those on which it arrests and occupies our attention for tlieir own
intrinsic interest,

VOL, LXXXVIU. NO, 183. 48

566 BREWSTER'S RAMBLES ABOUT PORTSMOUTH. [April,

16. — A Dictionary of the English Language^ by Joseph E. Wor-
c ESTER, LL.D. 4to. [Specimen Sheets.]

This work will probably appear before our next issue. We have
examined a sufUcicnt portion of it to feel sure that it will more than
meet the public expectation. The etymological department gives not
only the author's mature opinion in each case, but on controverted
points tlie alternative opinions. The definitions are as full, precise,
and discriminating as the capacity of our language will suffer them
to be, and, wherever practicable, are copiously and pertinently illustrated
by quotations from standard authors. The number of technical words
defined is so large and various, that the work will serve all the ordi-
nary purposes of a dictionary of each separate science and art, — ex-
perts having been, as we are informed, largely employed in this part
of the enterprise. Wood-cuts are introduced wherever the verbal
definition would be inadequate. The various valuable matter con-
tained in the Introduction and Appendix will supply the place of
several separate manuals. In fine, the work must take its unchal-
lenged place as far in advance of any previous attempt in this direc-
tion, and as necessarily the standard dictionary of the English lan-
guage, until its accessions and changes at some very distant day shall
demand that the same labor be renewed.

17. — JRambles about Portsmouth. Sketches of Persons, Localities^ and
Incidents of Two Centuries, Principally from Traditions and Un-
published Documents, By Charles W. Brewster. Portsmouth :
C. W. Brewster and Son. 1859.

This is the last day of grace for much of the unpublished history
of New England. Until the Revolution, or rather until the era of
steam-travel and rapid emigration, most of our old families remained
near the homes of their ancestors, and treasured up the accumulating
mass of local and biographical tradition. Frequent change of resi-
dence, remoter intermarriages than were wont oflen to take place, the
tumultuous press of business, and the incessant inpouring of intelli-
gence from the whole civilized world, have made the present generation
inditferent, for the most part, to vestiges and reminiscences of the past.
The trustees of this description of oral history gradually disappear
from the ranks of the living, leaving few who care to succeed to the in-
heritance which they have preserved as it came to them, and enriched
by the three or four score years of their own experience. Portamoath,

..ti

1859.]

KBW POETIir.

567

New IIamp§bir&| was the resilience, in the last and the preceding cen-
turff of many men of mark and families of distinction, and the theatre
of not a few eventa that formed a large part of the history of the
times, as well as of numerous incidents and transactions, in themselves
of less importance, which yet lhrt)W esst^ntial light upon that history.
It abounds too in ancient sites and dwell ing«, which have each a story i
of its awm Mr. Brewster, a native of Portsmouth, and of an old!
Portiimouth family, has inherited much of this local lore, has rondel
diligeiU in<jniry and research among its still remaining memorials andl
depositories, and has compiled the results of what he has recei\ed J
beard^ and learned, in this singularly rich, entertaining, and instructivel
Tolumc. The Penhallow, Cutts, Wentworth, Sherburne, Livermore/
and LangdoD families ; the somewhat curious ecclesiastical history oi
the town ; the reminiscences of a peculiarly luxurious and ostentatlomf
series of oflice-holders under the Crown, and of high life in the quasC
court-circle ; the characteristic anecdotes attached to well-known names ;
the eccentric personages whose memory yet lingers about their former
haunt«, — these and other simihir themes are given, not by any pre-
determined method, but in a series of Chapters or " Rambles," each
of which has a unity of its own, representing some single group, or train
of events, or series of family portraits. We have thus a volume much
more piquant and interesting than a formal history could have been,
and at the same time a compend of materials, many of which must
else have been irrevocably lost, from which some future author may
compile the annals of the town. The work is admirably done, and,
alike in its literary skill and its mechanical execution, does great credit
to the ability, accuracy, and tar^te of its esteemed author.

18. — 1. Pocmn. By Fraxcks !\nnl i,.r.Ti,.LE, Boston: Ticknor
and Fields. 1859. 16mo. pp. 312.

2* limtic Bhi/mes. By the Author of *' Winter Studied in the Coun-
try.*' Philadelphia : Parry and McMillan. 1859. 12mo. pp, 113.

S, Tlie Queen's Dotnain ; and other Poems. By William Winter.
Boston : E. O. Libhy & Co. 1859. IGmo. pp. U4.

4. The Ballad of Balne BeU^ and other Poems. By Thomas Bail ex
Aldrich. Kew York : Rudd and Carleton, 1859. 12mo. pp.117.

5. Poems* By Albert Laighton. Boston : Brown, Taggard, and
Chase. 1859. 16mo. pp. 135.

Wfi have named these volumes together, not because they have aught
in common except Uieir birth-season and their just claim upon our favor*

568 RUSTIO RHTMES. [April,

ing appreciation. We scarce know whether oar time is most peculiarlj
marked by the paucity of great, or the multitude of good poets. We
can hardly say for whom among living versifiers we can predict with
confidence a fame that will endure in coming ages ; but of those who can
exercise an enviable mission for their c6ntemporaries in awakening,
educating, exalting, and satisfying poetic taste and susceptibility, the
number is greater now than ever before. The case seems similar in
all departments of Jiterature^ art, and executive talent. The civilized
world has never had so little of pre-eminent genius, or so much of em-
inent ability, as at the present time. Were we writing an article of fuU
length, we should attempt to unfold the causes of this condition of
things ; but such a disquisition would be out of place in our critical
summary, and we will therefore proceed without farther preface to a
closer view of these five new volumes of poetry, — once enough for a
five years' supply of the public expectancy, — which bear the imprint
of the still new year.

Mrs. Kemble's poems are subjective, rather than imaginative, — they
show, throughout, the impress of her own intense vitality, profound in-
ward experience, intrepid courage, and indomitable will. Many of them
are deeply pensive, yet equally remote from querulousness and from
despair, — rehearsing griefs which are such not in fancy, but in fiict,
and incorporating with their remembrance the philosophy that endures
them bravely, and the faith that transforms and glorifies them. The fol-
lowing stanza, as beautiful as true, may be taken as representing the per-
vading and characteristic sentiment of the volume considered collectively.

** Raise it to Heaven, when thine eje fills with tears,
For only in n watery sky appears
The bow of light ; and from the invisible skies
Hope*s glory shines not, save through weeping eyes."

As might be inferred from this specimen, Mrs. Kemble's rhythm is not
always perfect, yet her verse is seldom deficient in euphony, and often
rolls on with an amplitude and energy of movement betokening the
author's life-long and fruitful familiarity with the tragic Muse.

The ^^ Rustic Rhymes," if we mistake not as to the authorshp, are
products of the scanty leisure of a busy and successful professional
career. The longer pieces are designed to exhibit the picturesque and
happy phases of rural life. They have both strong sense and vivacity
of thought and movement, and they indicate an ability to climb much
higher toward the summit of Parnassus than the altitude at which they
were written. They probably are all that they were designed to be,
and are certainly a felicitous expression of combined wit and wisdom,
in graceful words and easy numbers.

1859.] aldbich's poems. 569

Mr. Winter's new volume contains two poems of considerable length,
with namerous " Idyls and Lyrics." They are without exception pure
and high in sentiment, and many of them display a superior richness of
fancy and conmiand of poetical resources. The second piece, " The
Emotion of Sympathy," delivered before the Cambridge High School
Association, commends itself to our taste as one of the best " platform "
poems that have come under our cognizance, and is to be praised, not
only positively for its truth and beauty, but negatively for the absence
of that forced wit and elaborate doggerel, by which such poems are so
often made to disgust a portion of the audience, and to amuse the rest
at the expense of the author. This poem and " The Queen's Domain "
are in iambic pentameter rh3rmes, and in the smoothness of versifica-
tion, and the musical pulse they beat upon the ear, might bear compari-
son with the productions of acknowledged masters in this measure, so
common, yet so difficult, and so utterly fatal to the conceits and inanities
which often hide their puerility and emptiness in more vagrant meas-
ures. The same gift of the poetic ear is manifest in the lighter pieces,
and the varied forms of versification, which constitute the residue of the
volume.

Mr. Aldrich's <' Ballad of Babie Bell, the Poem of a Little Life that
was but Three Aprils Long," of itself evinces the genuineness of ihs
calling as a poet. We know not where to look for finer touches in the
delineation of child-nature, for richer imagery more delicately handled,
or for profounder pathos. There are other pieces in the volume, which
run in a sensuous vein that less suits our taste ; but of these there is not
one which has not some redeeming richness of fancy or felicity of
poetic expression. There is sometimes a less careful elaboration and
finish than the theme demands ; while there are many stanzas which
no labor of the reversed stylus could round more perfectly either in
thought or in rhythm. Mr. Aldrich has an exuberant fancy, a keen
poetic vision, a quick sense of beauty, and a sympathy with nature,
which, under the control of an exacting taste and a noble aim, may win
and merit for him a high and enduring reputation. All that he needs
is to be his own pupil in the ^ art and patience " demanded in the fol-
lowing piece for the poet's

"CLOTH OP GOLD.

** Yoa ask ns if by rale or no

Our many-colored songs are wronght ?
Upon the canning loom of thonght,
We weave our fancies, so and so.

" The busy shuttle comes and goes

Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves

48»

570 laiqhton'b poems. [April,

A tissae oat of aatamn leavesy
With here a thistle, there a rose.

** With art and patience thos is made
The poet*s perfect Cloth of Gold :
When woven so, nor moth nor mould
Kor time can make its colon fade."

Mr. Laighton, whose poems, as thej have appeared singlj in the jour-
nals of the day, have won the warmest praise from maDjr readers,
comes now before the public with his furst volume, which contains, with
many smaller pieces, a poem entitled ^ Beauty,'' delivered before the
United Literary Societies of Bowdoin CoUege at the last Commence-
ment. The pieces in this volume are, it seems to us, of singular excel-
lence. They, first of all, impress us as the unforced, inevitable outflow
of a true poet-nature, in harmony with all things beautiful, susceptible
of the higher and more subtile significance of the outward world, and
ever open to the breathings of the Incorruptible Spurit which pervades
and hallows the visible universe. Then they are smooth and harmonious
in rhythm ; choice and polished, yet without conceit or mannerism, in
diction ; rich and glowing in imagery ; and lofly, while unexaggerated,
in sentiment. They are at the farthest possible remove from the au-
dacity which, in our day, so often counterfeits the poet's mission by
tricks of legerdemain with incongruous fancies and halting anapests,
and which plays the traitor to the same mission with not a few who are
capable of better things. Mr. Laighton holds out not a single bait fiur
that claptrap applause, which is censure and shame. His poems appeal
only to the refined and delicate appreciation of those in sympathy with
the beautiful, true, and good. That they will fully sustain the kind
yet searching ordeal of their judgment, we confidently anticipate. We
quote, not because it has superior merit to many others that we might
copy, but because we have not space for a longer extract, the following

"HYMN.

** The homeless winds that wander o'er the land ;
The deep-voiced thander speaking words of fire ;
The waves that break in sunshine on the strand,
Or smite with storm-paled hands their rocky Ijre ;

<' The stars that blossom in the fields of night ;
The buds that burst in beauty from the sod ;
The birds that dip their wings in rainbow light, —
Are notes in Nature's symphony to God.

" But as Creation's anthem onward rolls,
From age to age in grandeur still the same,
Wo set the seal of silence on our souls,
And sing no praises to His holy name.

1859.] THE NEW PRIEST. 671

" Our eyes are dazzled by the glare of Life ;
We cannot see the sapphire deeps above ;
Our ears are deafened by its ceaseless strife ;
We cannot hear the angels' songs of love.

'* Dost gathers on oar mantles hoar by hoar ;
'We trail our robes in low and sensaal things ;
We yield oar heart-wealth to the Tempter's power,
And stain the whiteness of the spirit's wings.

** We fling the priceless pearl of Faith away,

And count as treasure Earth's corroding dross ;
We bow to idols formed of fragile clay,
But twine few garlands for the Saviour's cross.*'

19. — 77ie New Priest in Conception Bay, Boston : Phillips, Sampson,
& Co. 1858. In 2 vols. 16mo. pp. 809, 839.

This tale challenges our admiration on many grounds, either of which
would merit for it a foremost place among works of its class. Its scene
is laid in Newfoundland, to most of us an unknown region, and present-
ing, as is now evinced, unsurpassed materials, whether for the descrip-
tion of nature or the delineation of rare and piquant types of humanity.
The pages before us abound in pictures of terraqueous scenery, each a
poem by itself, such as could have been written only by one who had
the eye and the word-wealth of a true poet The primitive and hardy
mode of life, the incessant exposure to the continuous roughening and
frequent perils of the elements, the collision of rival creeds, the isolation
of those towns and hamlets from the great centres of opinion, influence,
and civilization, — all make the inhabitants of Newfoundland a peculiar
people, with strong, jagged prominences of character, with a marvellous
blending of the manly and the childish, the shrewd and the simple, the
wisdom of matured and treasured experience and the credulity of those
to whom nature is a sealed book. A large variety of these native char-
acters are depicted in the story of " The New Priest," and thrown out
into their full prominence on the canvas by contrast with a genuine
Yankee who plays a conspicuous part in the development of the plot,
with other leading personages of refined and generous nurture, and
with the villain of the tale, — a crafly and unscrupulous Jesuit. Our
author gives us in his interlocutors the pure Newfoundland dialect, and
we confess that much of it can be read aloud only by harsh and unge-
nial exercise of the vocal organs ; but it is a patois so closely character-
istic, that we would not have one word of it omitted or translated into
the vernacular. There are several characters of singular beauty in the

572 STOW'S CHRISTIAN B&OTHBBHOOD. [April|

tale. The ^New Priest" himself is ihoroughlj noble, lojal to his
convictions, full of honor and self-sacrifice ; and as he is led fjnom the
inthndment of a temporary conversion to Romanism, and brought
again into a freer religious atmosphere, he awakens our intense sym-
pathy with his inward conflict, and our profound reverence for the
intrepidity with which he follows the light of Divine truth. Skipper
George has hardly his equal in fictitious literature for ingenuousness,
vigor of mind, fortitude in endurance, sweet submission to the will of
Heaven, and saintliness of spirit His daughter — virtually the heroine
of the story — unites to all that is beautiful in her father an unstud-
ied maidenly grace, native delicacy, and spontaneous intuition as to
all that appertains to the higher nature. The tale is one of unflag-
ging interest, and the several stages of its development are managed
with exquisdte artistic skill The lessons, not put into a didactic form,
but imbedded in the narrative, are of the highest and holiest. We would
qualify our praise, were there anything that claims its abatement; but
either there is no material for an unfavorable criticism, or, what is rerj
much the same thing, the author gains such a hold upon his readers as
to disarm the critical judgment.

20. — European Life, Legendy and Landscape, By an Artist. Phila-
delphia: James Challen and Son. 1859. 12mo. pp. 154.

This is an unpretending book, written by some one who under-
stands no part of author-crafl, except the too often omitted part of
writing well. It is a note-book of a tour, principally on the most
familiar routes of European travel, containing, in easy alternation and
commingling, and in about equal proportions, the three elements speci-
fied in the title, — " Life " sketched en passantj not formally described ;
" Legend *' charmingly told ; and " Landscape " vividly pictured. Be-
sides these, and especially characteristic of the volume, arc numerous
notices of works of art, which, unlike most of such notices, give a
plain, succinct account of the works themselves, instead of entertaining
us with what we are in no wise concerned to know, the emotions of
the author.

2L — Christian Brotherhood: a Letter to the Hon. Neman Lincoln.
By Babox Stow, D. D., Pastor of the Rowe Street Church,
Boston. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. 1859. 12mo. pp. 208.

We have but one fault to find with this book, namely, that it did

OSBORN*S PALESTINE.

573

not appear when it was written, "more than fifteen jcars '* ago.
There is nee4 enough of it now ; but it meets n demand which was
then Btill more urgent- It will now be a precious auxiliary in the
good work, in which it might then have taken almost the initiative.
It h an earnest appeal to the members of the autlxor's own denomination
against sectarianism. It commends all true Chri^stians, not only to the
personal respect and affection of those whom he addresses, but to their
sympathy and furthenmce in the establishment and support of Chris-
ijan institutions and entei-prises of every description. It deprecated
the New England habit of founding new churches, not in destitute and
benighted communities, but where, and because, the existing churches
are prosperous ; so that a village, all whose inhabitants might be ac-
commodated in a single place of worship, bristles with three or four
spires, while the funds wasted in this mutually injurious rivalry are
imperatively required for the common cause of evangelical propagan-
dlsin* We are solicitous that the book should be extensively read,
both on account of the sectarian follies which it holds up to censure
and ridicule, and of its pervading tone of fervent piety and unfeigned
good-wilh

22. — Paleitinef Petit and Present, With BiMtcal^ Literary^ and Scien-
tific Notices, By Rev. He^rt 8. Osborn, A. M,, Professor of
Natural Science in Roanoke College, iSalem, Va. With Original
Illustrations and a New Map of Palestine, by the Author. Phila*
delphia : James Challen and Son, 1859. 8vo. pp. 600,

Tnis book is the result of an extended tour in Palestine by an
author previously well versed in the best literature of his theme,
and conversant with the points demanding special research or TeriE-
cation. The work is in the form of an itinerary, interspersed aa
oocaaion serves with topographical discussion and Biblical criticism.
It is adapted for reference by means of a copious index of subjects,
and b also furnished with a Geogniphiail Appendix, containing the
name of every place mentioned in the Scriptures, with a list of the
passages in which each is found, the modem name, when there is any,
and the ascertained or reputed latitude and longitude. Among the
numerous similar works of the day^ we hardly know of one covering
so much ground, which is so likely to attract and interest the culti-
vated reader; and where there is valuable material brought to light
every year, the latest book is always in some respects tlie best au-
thority* We ought not to omit the emphatic mention of the taste,
skill, and even genius manifested in the mechanical execution of this

574 challen's chbistian morals. [April,

volume. It is beautifully printed, and adorned with two exquisite
steel engravings by Sartain, five chromographic engravings ricUj
tinted, numerous illustrations from wood, and one of the best and
most available maps of Palestine we have ever seen, — all from draw-
ings by the adtbor.

23. — The Land and the Book ; or^ Bihliccd lUtutrations drawn from
the Manners and Customs, the Scenes and Scenery of the Holy Land*
By W. M. Thomson, D. D., Twenty^ve Years a Missionary of
the A. B. C. F. M. in Syria and Palestine. Maps, Engravings,
etc. In 2 vols. New York : Harper and Brothers. 1859. 12nia
pp. 560, 614.

This work is inferior to the last named both in literary skill and
in artistical beauty ; but it contains more and more various materials
for the illustration of Scripture, is well arranged, has numerous maps
and wood-cuts, and ample indexes. The author's long residence in
Palestine, and his previous reputation as an explorer and collector
in this field of research, render him, of course, peculiarly trustworthy
in all that he states as from his own knowledge, and attach a high
degree of authority to his opinions where exact knowledge cannot be
obtained. These volumes are obviously intended for extensive circula-
tion, and will be the means of popularizing a large amount of the
information requisite for the intelligent perusal of the Bible.

24. — Christian Morals. By James Challek, Author of ^ The
Gospel and its Elements," " Christian Evidences," ** Cave of Mao-
pelah," etc., etc. Philadelphia: James Challen and Son. 1859.
12mo. pp. 199.

This little compend of Christian ethics deserves the widest circula-
tion. It is a simple exposition of the morality of the Gospel, in its
forming principles, its ruling motives, its several heads of obligation,
and its undoubted requisitions as applied to the present state of so-
ciety. It is worthy of praise, equally as avoiding all speculations
beyond the obvious sense of the sacred record, and as presenting that
sense without abatement or compromise. It is long since we have
felt the iK)wer of faithful evangelical preaching as we have in taming
over these unpretending pages ; and we are careful to commend them
emphatically, at once because there is nothing attractive in their form,
and because there is so much of the highest wisdom in their contents.

1859.] masson's lifb of miltox. 575

25. — Biographies of Distinguished Scientific Men, By FBAX9018
Abago, Member of the Institute. Translated by Admiral W. H.
Smyth, D. C. L., F. R. S., etc., the Rev. Baden Powell, M. A.,
F. R. S., etc., and Robert Grant, Esq., M. A., F. R. A. S. Se-
ries First and Second. Boston : Ticknor and Fields. 1859. 12mo.
pp. 444, 486.

The First Series of these Biographies commences with the author's
autobiography. It is defaced by a vanity almost puerile, and presents
several of Arago's brethren in science in a light by no means amiable.
Its chief value lies in its preserving a few not unimportant items of sci-
entific history. The residue of the volumes in hand is filled with biogra-
phies of distinguished Frenchmen and Englishmen, most or all of them
prepared by M. Arago in his capacity of Perpetual Secretary of the
Academy of Sciences. They are of worth, equaJly as presenting details
of life and character, and as furnishing numerous incidental facts con-
nected with the scientific development of the last and the present cen-
tury, which have no record elsewhere. The translators have assumed
also the office of interpreters and critics, inserting well-timed explana-
tions where the text is involved in technicalities, expressing their dis-
sent, with the grounds for it, on various subjects open to controversy,
and in some cases obviating unfair inferences to which the author's
personal prejudices might lead his less informed readers. These notes,
introduced modestly and sparingly, constitute a highly valuable feature
of the work as it is now given to us.

26. — The Life of John Milton. Narrated in Connection with the
Political^ Eccksiasticaly and Literary History of his Time, By Da-
vid Masson, M. a.. Professor of English Literature in University
College, London. With Portraits, and Specimens of his Handwrit-
ing at different Periods. Vol I. 1608 - 1630. Boston : Gould and
Lincoln. 1859. 8vo. pp. 658.

This is the first of three ponderous volumes, while all that is ac-
tually known of Milton's life might be comprised in two hundred octavo
pages. But Mr. Masson's work is really the history of the English
mind, church, and state during the sixty-six years between Milton's
birth and death. At the same time the author omits nothing, however
trivial, which can be given as in direct or remote connection with Mil-
ton. Thus there is a very long treatise on the genealogy of the poet's
parents, and large portions of his college exercises are translated from

576 Crosby's annual obituabt. [April,

the Latin in which thej have slumbered till now. This Tolame^ with
all its apparent prolixitj, is exceedingly attractive ; for the writer has
not only, with the fidelity of a true antiquary, collected the memorials
of the seventeenth century, but has also thoroughly vitalized them, and
dramatized their action, so that we might almost seem to be reading
from contemporary journals. When the remaining volumes reach us,
we hope to enter more fully into the merits of the work, and such
new views as it may have given of its illustrious subject.

27. — A New History of the Conquest of Mexico, in which Lets Casas^s
Denunciations of the Popular Historians of that War are fully vin-
dicated. By Kobebt Anderson Wilson, Counsellor at Law,
Author of ^' Mexico and its Religion," etc Philadelphia : James
Challen and Son. 1859. 8vo. pp.539.

We are not yet prepared to criticise this book, unless we adopt Syd-
ney Smith's doctrine, and regard ourselves as speciaUy qualified to re-
view it by not having read it. But we have read enough to see that it
is a work of no ordinary ability, research, boldness, and vigor. Mr.
Wilson has collected in Mexico all the materials there accessible for hb
use, and especially has examined the aUeged monuments of Aztec civil-
ization, which dwindle on a near approach. He pronounces Bemal
Diaz a myth, and, of course, his so-called personal narrative a collection
of myths. With all the fervor of an iconoclast he deals destruction
among historical traditions, till now undoubted. We are not yet pre-
pared to believe that his reading of this portion of American history
will take its place as genuine ; but we reserve our opinion till we
have a right to form it.

28. — Annual Obituary Notices of Eminent Persons who have Died in
the United States. For 1857. By Hon. Nathan Crosbt. Bos-
ton : Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 1858. pp. 432.

We are glad to see this plan of an annual Necrology started, and
under such auspices as must insure success. Of course the chief merit
of such a work must be completeness, and of this no estimate can be
formed without ascertaining from various sections of the country how
far in each city, county, or vicinity, it gives satisfaction, or what num-
ber and kind of omissions are complained of. The quality of the no-
tices, except in the case of some person of extended fame, must depend.

1859.]

UERCHAKTS' ASO BAKKEBS^ BEQISTEB.

577

not on the editor's nbilitj, but on the local obituaries. Wherever the
present editor bus the opportunity thus to distinguiah himselft he shows
his own skilled and g^raceful band in the work, except (we believe) in
the single c;ise of Crawford the sculptori of whom we have an admirably
written memoir of nearly fourteen colunina, with the dgnatarc O, S. H.,
— initials which our readers will not find it difficult to interpret-

29, — Hi&tory of the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations,
By Samitkl Greene Aunolp, Vol L 1G3G - 1700. New York :
D. Appleton.&Co- 1859. 8vo. pp.574.

Wfi have the promise of a review of this volume at an early dale
from a loyal and loving native of Rho<le Island, and, in the pendency
of this promise, wc will only eay that the volume ghows a fidelity
worthy of reliance, a candor that commands respect, and a skill in au-
thorship which must give the writer a high place among American his-
torians. When we wrote what we have about Roger Williams in our
review of Dr. Palfrey's new volume, we hud not read Mr. Arnold's
version of the i^tory. We find that it agrees substantially with Dn
Palfrey's, and confirms to our judgment the opinions to which we gave
expression ; yet Mr. Arnold himself reaches an opposite conclusion as
to the justice of Williams's banishment, by treating his disorganizing
Opinions as ** opinions of a purely religious nature."

30. — The Merchants and Bankers* Register^ for the Tear 1850. New
York : Published at the Oilice of the Bankers* Magazine. 8vo, pp.
96 and UCu

The subject of Free Banking has of late years attracted much at-
tention in the United States. Various States have adopted the system,
and others have it under consideration. The chief purpose of this vol-
ume is to furnish information on this subject. It contains the Free (or
General) banking laws of Massachusetts, New York, Illinois, Indiana,
Iowa, Louisiana, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. From
these data may be compiled a system containing the best features of each,
rejecting those of an unsuitable nature.

The volume contains, besides, its usual annual list of the banks and

private bankers of the United States, of Europe, South America, and

■elsewhere, and a list of standard works on banking, currency, and kin-

ed subjects.

VOL, LXXXVIIK NO. 183, 49

NEW PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.

Address delivered before the Alumni of the General Theological Seminju^*,
in St Peter's Church, on Friday Evening, October Sth, 1858, bj Samoel H.
Turner, D.D., Professor of Biblical Learning and Interpretation <^ Scripture,
on Occasion of the Fortieth Anniversary of his original AppointmeDt. New
York : Pudney & Russell. 1858.

The Joy of the Christian Mourner : a Sermon occasioned by the Death of
William Hickling Prescott, preached in the First Church, Feb. 6, 1859. By
Rufus Ellis. Boston : Crosby, Nichob, & Co. 1859.

An Address delivered in the Mercer Street Church, New Yoiic, December
2, 1858, at the Funeral of the Hon. Benjamin Franklin Butler, late Attorney-
General of the United States. By William B. Sprague, D.D., Minister of the
Second Presbyterian Congregation in Albany. New Yoiic : D. Applcton &
Co. 1859.

A Sermon preached in the First Parish Church, Concord, December 10,
1858, at the Burial of Rev. Barzillai Frost. By Henry A. Miles. Cam-
bridge. 1859.

A Ray of Light from his Countenance. A Sermon preached in the Cbnrch
of the First Parish, in Portland, Me., on Sunday, Jan. 9, 1859, being the first
Sunday after the Public Funeral Ceremonies of the Rev. Ichabod Nichols, D J).
By Horatio Stebbins, Pastor of the Parish. Portland. 1859.

Memorial of Rev. Philip F. Mayer, D.D., late Pastor of St. John's Lutheran
Church, Philadelphia. By M. L. Stoever, Professor in Pennsylvania College,
Gettysburg. Philadelphia: Smith, English, & Co. 1859.

A Sermon preached October 81, 1858, the Sunday after the Fortieth Anni-
versary of his Ordination, by Alvan Lamson, D.D., Pastor of the First Church
and Parish in Dedham. Boston : Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1859.

A Valedictory Discourse delivered in the First Church, Beverly, July 4.
1858. Boston : Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1858.

The Person and Character of Christ, a Sermon preached on the Afternoons
of August 8th, 15th, and 22d, 1858, at the North Christian Church, New Bed-
torJ, Mass. By S. W. Whitney. Newbur}'port. 1859.

A Sermon delivered at tlie Dedication of the Chapel of the N. Y. State
Lunatic Asylum, October 27th, 1858, by Rev. W. E. Knox. Utica. 1858.

Women and Work. By Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon. With an Intro-
duction by Catharine M. Sedgwick. New York : C. S. Francis. 1859.

The American Tract Society, Boston. Boston. 1859.

Prize Essay on Fairs. By Allen W. Dodge, of Hamilton, Mass. Boston.
1858.

A Statistical View of American Agriculture, its Home Resources and For*

1859.]

NKW PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED*

579

eign Mftrkcts, with Suggestions for the ScheduJca of the FefJeral Census in
I860. An Address delivered at New York, before the American Geographi-
cal luid Statii?tical SoeietVi on the Organization of the A^cultural Sec-lion,
Bf John Ja}% E;*q. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1859.

Aildress delivered before the N. Y. State Agricultural Society, by Joseph
It Wlliams, (President of the Michigan State Agricultural College,) at Syra-
cuse, October 8, 1858. Albany. 1858.

Public Exercises at the Inauguration of Rev. Samuel Ware Fisher^ D.D.,
as iJie Sixth President of Hiunillon College, at Clinton, K Y., Thursday, Nov,
4, 1858. Utica. 1858.

A Key to the " Trustees' StAtenient.*' Letters to the Majority of the Trus-
tees of the Dudley Observatory, slioiwing tlie Misrepresentations, Gfirbling?,
and Ferverriona of their Mls-Statement. By George H. Thacher. From the
Atlas and Argasi, October, 1858. pp. 126.

Reply to the " Statement of the Trustees'* of the Dudley Observatory-. By
Benj. Apthorp Gould, Jr. Albany- 1859. pp. 8()G.

An Address delivered before the Seventh Annual Meeting oi' the Tirginia
Stato Agricultural Society, November 4th, 1858, by J. P. Holeombe, E^q.
Bichinond. 1858.

Address and Poem, delivered before the Columbia College Alumni Associa-
tion, at Hope Cha[>el^ October 27, 1858. New York, 1858.

An Examination of the Case of Drod Scott against Sand ford, in the Su-
preme Court of the United States, and a full and fair Exposition of the Decis-
ion of the Court, and of the Opinions of the Majority of the Judges. Prepared
at the Request of, and read before, '^ The Geneva Literary and Scientific Asso-
ciation," on Tuesday Evening, *28th December, 1858. By Hon. Samuel A.
Foot, LL. D., late Judge of the Court of Appeals. New York. 1859.

Hints to Crauiographers, upon the Importance and Feasibility of Establish-
ing some Uniform System by which the Collection and Promulgation of Crani-
ological Statistics and the Exchange of Duplicate Crania may be promoted.
By J* Aitken Meigs, M,D., Professor of the Institutes of Medicine in the Phil-
adelphia College of Medicine. Pliiladelphia. 1858.

Reports of die Trustees and Superintendent of the Butler Asylum for the
Insane, presentHl to the CorfM^ratiou, at tlieir Annual Meeting, January 26,
1859. Providence. 1859.

Twenty-Sixth Annual Report of the Seamen's Aid Society of the City of
Boston. Boston. 1859.

Annual Report of the School Committee of the City of Lynn, for the Yvar
ending December 31, 1858. Lynn. 1859.

Ninth Annual Report of Uie Asoeiation for the Relief of Aged Indigent
Females, Boston. 1859. •

The Fourteenth Annual Report of the Ministry at Large in Lowell to the
Lowell Missionary S*KMety. Tvowell. 1858.

Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society^ at the Annual Meeting,
hchi in Wonv^iter, Oct 21, 1S5«. Boston. 1858.'

Proceedings of the American Antitiuarian Society* at a Special Meeting,
beldin Wofceflter, Feb* 10, 1869. Boston, 1859.'

580 NEW PUBLICATION'S BBCEIVED. [April,

Thirteenth Annual Report of the Board of Directors of the St Louis Mer-
cantile Library Association, January 11, 1859. St. Louis. 1859.

The Critic Criticised, and a Review of Hillard*s Fust, Second, Third, and
Fourth Readers. Boston : Bazin & Ellsworth. 1859.

An Historical Sketeh of the Church Missionary Association of the Eastern
District of the Diocese of Massachusetts, by the Rev. WHliam Stevens Peny,
M. A. Boston : E. P. Dutton & Co. 1859.

Exports and Imports, as showing the Relative Ad^'ancement of every Natioii
in Wealth, Strength, and Independence. [In a Series of Articles contribnted
to the Boston Transcript.] By James L. Baker. Philadelphia. 1859.

Annual Report of the Comptroller of the State of New York. Transmittetl
to the Legislature January 6, 1859. Albany. 1859. pp. 120.

A Report on the Currency. New York. 1858.

Annual Report of the Superintendent of the Banking Department, of the
State of New York. Transmitted to the Legislature January 4, 1859. Al-
bany. 1859. pp. 192.

State of New York. First Report of the Commissioners of the Code.
Albany. 1858. pp. 116.

In Relation to Collisions at Sea. Chamber of Commerce of New York,
December, 1858. New Yoric 1858.

Report of a Committee of the Chamber of Commerce of New Y'oik, on
Canal Navigation by Steam. December, 1858. New York. 1858.

Report of the Committee of the Chamber of Conmierce on the Chai^ges at
Quarantine for Lighterage, etc. New York. 1858.

Preliminary Report of Explorations in Nebraska and Dakota, in the Years
1855, '56, '57, by Lieut. G. K. Warren, Topographical Engineers, U. S.
Army. Washington. 1859. pp. 173 and l^lap.

Index to the Catalogue of a Portion of the Public Librarj- of the Gty of
Boston, arranged in the Lower Hall. Boston. 1858. pp. 204.

Rccueil des Acts de TAcademie Impdriale des Sciences, Belles-Lettres, ot
Arts de Bordeaux. Dix-ncuviemc Anndc. — 1857, 8* et 4' Trimcstre. Bor-
dean : Cbausnas-Gayct. 1858. pp. 536.

The American Almanac and Rcpositorj' of Useful Knowledge, for the Year
1859. Boston : Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1859. pp.384.

Catalogue of the Officers and Students of the Meadville Theological School,
for the Academical Year 1858 - 69. Meadville. 1858.

State University of Michigan. Catalogue of the Officers and Students for
1859. Ann Arbor. 1859.

Catalogue of the Officers and Students of the Theological Seminar}' of the
Presbyterian Church, Princeton, New Jersey, 1858 - 59. Albany. 1858.

Appeal in Behalf of Antioch College, with a Statement of its Financial Hist-
tor\-, Condition, and Prospects. New York, November, 1858. New York.
1S.58.

The Hearthstone, a Magazine of Domestic Economy, etc. Vol. I. No. 1.
January, 1859. 8vo. pp. 32. New York : Woo^ls & Co.

Willie Winkle's Nursery Songs of Scotland. Edited by Mrs. Silsbee. Bos-
ton : Ticknor & Fields. 1859. 16mo. pp. 94.

1859.] NEW PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED, 581

Thorndale; or, The Conflict of Opinions. By William Smith. Boston:
Ticknor & Fields. 1859. 12mo. pp.544.

The Poetical Works of Fitz-Greene Halleck. New Edition. New York ;
D. Appleton & Co. 1859. 24mo. pp. 238.

Annual Beport of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution,
showing the Operations, Expenditures, and Condition of the Institution for
the Year 1857. Washington. 1858. 8vo. pp. 438.

Abridgment of the Debates of Congress, from 1789 to 1856. From Gales
and Seaton's Annals of Congress ; from their Register of Debates ; and from
the official Reported Debates, by John C. Rives. By the Author of the Thirty
Years' View. Vol. X. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1859. 8vo. pp.
756.

The Christian's Daily Treasury: a Religious Exercise for every Day in
the Year. By Ebenezer Temple. Boston : Gould & Lincoln. 1859. 12mo.
pp. 432.

Morality and the State. By Simeon Nash. Columbus : Follett, Foster, &
Co. 1859. 16mo. pp.442.

Lectures on the Moral Government of God. By Nathaniel W. Taylor,
D.D., late Dwight Professor of Didactic Theology in Yale College. In 2
vols. New York : Clark, Austin, & Smith. 1859. 12mo. pp. 417, 423.

An Outline of the Laws of Thought : a Treatise on Pure and Applied
Logic. By William Thomson, D.D., Provost of the Queen's College, Oxford.
Cambridge : John Bartlett 1859. 16mo. pp. 345.

The State of the Impenitent Dead. By Alvah Hovey, D.D., Professor of
Christian Theology in the Newton Theological Institution. Boston : Gould &
Lincoln. 1859. 12mo. pp. 164.

The Monarchies of Continental Europe. The Empire of Austria; its Rise
and Present Power. By John S. C. Abbott New York : Mason Brothers.
1859. 12mo. pp. 520.

Trials of a Public Benefactor, as illustrated in the Discovery of Etherization.
By Nathan P. Rice, M.D. New York: Pudney & Russell. 1859. 12mo.
pp. 460.

The Pioneer Bishop: or. The Life and Times of Francis Asbury. By
W. P. Strickland. With an Introduction by Nathan Bangs, D.D. New
York : Carlton & Porter. 1858. 16mo. pp. 496.

Words that shook the World; or, Martin Luther his own Biographer.
Being Pictures of the Great Reformer, sketched mainly from his own Say-
ings. By Charles Adams. New York: Carlton & Porter. 1858. 16mo.
pp. 333.

Passages from my Autobiography. By Sydney, Lady Morgan. New
York : D. Appleton & Co. 1859. 12m(v pp. 382.

Sylvan Holf s Daughter. By Holme Lee. New York : Harper & Brothers.
1859. 12mo. pp. 422.

The Old Plantation, and what I gathered there in an Autumn Month. New
York : Harper & Brothers. 1859. 12mo. pp.369.

The Ministry of Life. By Maria Louisa Charlesworth. New York : Carl-
ton k Porter. 1859. 16mo. pp. 465.

49*

582 NEW PUBLICATIONS RECEIVEB. [April,

Onward ; or, The Mountain Clambcrer& A Tale of Progress. By Jane
Anne Winscom. New Yoiic: D. Appleton & Co. 18^9. 12nio. pp. 333.

The Foster Brothers ; being a History of the School and College Life of
Two Young Men. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1859. 12nio. pp. 405.

Alice Learmont ; or, A Mother's Love. By the Author of *' John Wi^lifa^,
Gentleman." With Illustrations by James Godwin. Boston : Mayhew &
Baker. 1859. 12mo. pp. 16G.

Pleasure. A Poem, in Seven Books. By Nicholas Michel! . London:
William Tegg & Co. 1859. 16mo. pp. 243.

Cain. By Charles Boner. London: Chapman & Hall. 1855. IGmo.
pp. 87.

The New Dance of Death, and other Poems. By Charles Boner. Lon-
don: Chapman & Hall. 1857. 16mo. pp.50.

Verse. 1834-1858. By Charles Boner. London: Chapman & Hall.
1858. 16mo. pp. 202.

The Manual of Chess : containing the Elementary Principles of the Game ;
illustrated with numerous Diagrams, recent Games, and original Problems.
By Charles Kenny. New York : D. Appleton & Ca 16mo. pp. 122.

The British Poets. English and Scottish Ballads. Selected and edited by
Francis James Child. Vols. V. - VIIL Boston : Little, Brown, & Ca 1 858.

The British Poets. The Poetical Works of James Montgomery. With a
Memoir of the Author. In 5 vols. Boston : Litde, Brown, & Co. 1858.

Wavcrlcy Novels. Household Edition. Anne of Greierstein. — Count Robert
of Paris. In 2 vols. each. Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 1859.

lleport of the Board of Trustees of the Massachusetts Greneral Hospital, for
the Year 1858. Boston. 1859.

Proceedings of the New Yoric Historical Society, on the Announcement of
tlie Death of William Hickling Prescott, Februar}-, MDCCCLIX. New York.
1859.

The Historical Magazine, and Notes and Queries concerning the Antiquities,
History, and Biography of America. Vol. II. New York : C. Benjamin Rich-
anlson. 1858. 8vo. pp. 380.

Lives of the (Queens of Scotland and English Princesses connected with tJie
Regal Succession of Great Britain. By Agnes Strickland. Vol. VII. New
York: Harper & Brother*. 1859. 12mo. pp.470.

Pope, or President ? Startling Disclosures of Romanism as revealed by its
own Writers. Facts for Americans. New Yorit: R. L. Deliaser. 1859.
r2mo. pp. 3G0.

Fankwci ; or, The San Jacinto in the Seas of India, China, and Japan. By
William Maxwell Wood, M. D., U. S. N., late Surgeon to the United States
East India S(|uadron. New York : Harper & Brothers. 1859. 1 2mo. pp. 545.

The Life and Remains of Douglas Jerrold, by his Son, Blanchard Jerrold.
Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 1859. 12mo. pp. 450.

The Mustcc ; or, Love and Liberty. By B. F. Presbur}-. Boston : Shop-
ard, Clark, & Brown. 1859. 12mo. pp. 487.

The Comcxlies of Terence. Literally translated into English Prose, with
Notes. By Henry Thomas Riley, B. A., late Scholar of Clare Hall, Cambridge.

1859.]

KBW PUBLICATIONS RECKIVKD^

Christmas Hours, liy the Author ot* *• The nomcward Path/' ^'Bogmwia
and Growth of the Chmtian Life, or the Sunday- School Teaebor.'* Bostoa
Tickoor & Fiulck, 1859. 16mo. pp. 1-26.

The GrcAt Day of Atonemoat; or, Meditations and Prayera on the la
Twetity-Four Hours of the Suflerings and Death of our Lord and Saviour Jce\
Christ Translated from the German of Ctarlotte Elizabeth Nebelin. £dita
by Mrs, Colin IMackenzieL Boston : Gould & Lincoln. 1859. r2ma pp. 200

SaU^ation by Chnat A Seriea of Diaoouraes on some of the most iniportaii
Doctrines of the Gospel. By Francis Wayland. Boston : Gould & Lincoln
1859, 12uio. pp. S8G,

• Mount Vernon : a Letter to the Children of America. By the Author
*' Rural Hours," etc., etc. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1850. 12mo. pp. 7^

The Poor Girl and True Woman ; or, Elements of Woman's Success, drai^
from the Life of ilary Lyon and others. A Book for Girls* By William ]
Tliayor- Boston : Gould & Lincoln. 1850. 12mo. pp. 853.

The Bainbow Side : a Sequel to ** The Itinerant.*' By Mrs. C. M. Edwa
Four Illustrations. New York : Carlton & Porter. 18.'i8. pp. 296,

Rea<lin;TS for Y'oung ^len, Mereliant!*, and Men of Business. Reprinted i
the London Eilition. Boston : James Munroe & Co. 185f). ir»mo. pp. 1 «

Street Thoughts. By Henry M. Dexter, Pastor of Pine Street Church, ]
ton. With Illustrations by Billings. Boston: Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 185|
12mo. pp. 216.

Biagni[>hical Sketch of Amariah Brigham, AL D., late Superintendent of I
New Y'ork State Lunatic Asylum, Utica, N. Y. Utica : W. Q. McClurc. 185j
8vo. pp. 123-

Lc Cabinet des F<?es, or Recreative Readings, arranged for the express IlJ
of Students in French. By Georges Gerard, A. M. New Y'ork: D. Appletd
&Ca 1869. 12mo. pp.332.

A New, Practical, and Easy Method of Learning the German I.<ang;uag
By F. Aba, Doctor of Pbil<ji!?<;)phy aud Professor at the College of Neuas, Fir
American, from the Eighth London Edition. New Y'ork : D. Appleton & i
1859. pp. m, 123.

A Comprehensive Pronouncing and Ex|>lauatory Dictionary of the Englii
Language, with Vocabularies of Cla3«?ical, Scripture, and Modem GeograpJ
ic&l Names. By Joseph E. Worcester, LL. D. Rcvided^ with important Aq
dldons. Bostom : Hickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 12mo. pp.526.

A Primary Pronouncing Dictionary of the English Language ; with Vocalj
uLiries of Classical, Scripture, and Modern Geographical Names. By Jc»scp
E. Worcester. Boston: Hickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1859, ICma pp. 35l

A Pronouncing Spelling-Book of the English Language. By J. E, Wor-
cestc^r. Boston: HJcklitig, Swan, & Brewer. 1859. 12mo. pp, 180.

A First Class Reader; consisting of Extracts, in Prose and Verse, with
ographical and Critical Notices of the Authors. For the Us© of Advancq
Classes in Public and Private Schools. By G. S. Hlllard. Boston : Uicklii]

584 NEW PUBLICATIONS BECEIVSD. [April

A Second ClasB Reader; consistiDg of Extracts, in Proae and Yene, fin- tlie
Use of tlie Second Claases in Public and PriTate Schools. With an Introduc-
tory Treatise on Reading and the Tndning of the Vocal Oi^gans. By G. S.
HiilanL Boston: Hickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 12mo. pp. 278.

A Third Class Reader; consisting of Extracts, in Froee and Verse, for the
Use of Third Classes in Pablic and Private Schools. With an Introdoctonr
Treatise on Reading and the Training of the Vocal Organs. By 6. S. Hillard.
Boston : Hickb'ng, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 12mo. pp. 182.

A Fourth Class Reader; consisting of Extracts in Prose and Verse, for the
Use of the Fourth Classes in Public and Private Schools. With an Introdoc-
tory Treatise on Reading and the Training of the Vocal Organs. Boston :
Uickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 12ma pp. 152.

The First Primary Reader. With Engravings from Original Design^
Boston : Uickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1859. 12mo. pp.72.

The Second Primary Reader ; conasting of Extracts in Prose and Verse.
With Exercises in Enunciation. For the Use of the Second Classes in Pri-
mary Schools. Boston: Hickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 16mo. pp. 120.

The Third Primary Reader; consisting of Extracts in Prose and Verse.
With Exercises in Enunciation. For the Use of the Highest Classes in Pri-
mary-Schools. Boston : Hickling, Swan, & Brewer. 1858. 12mo. pp.216.

The Progressive Speller, for Common Schools and Academies ; embracing a
complete Key to Pronunciation ; easy Words for Primary Classes ; Lessons for
Spelling and Defining ; Dictation Exercises; also Exercises in the Formation
and the Analysis of Derivative Words ; thus furnishing a thorough Coarse of
Instruction in the Orthography and Orthoepy of the most common Words in
the English Language. By Salem Townc, LL. D., and Nelson M. Holbrodc.
Boston : Bazin & Ellsworth. 1859. pp. 168.

The Losing and Taking of ^lansoul ; or. Lectures on the Holy War. By
Alfred S. Patton, A.M. New York : Sheldon & Co. 1859. 12mo. pp. 286.

The Former Days. Histor}- of the Presbyterian Church of Geneva. By
Hubbanl Winslow. Boston. 1859.

Man and his Dwelling-Place. An Essay towards the Interpretation of
Nature. New York : Redfield. 1859. 12mo. pp.891.

Letters of a Traveller. Second Series. By William Cullen Bnant New
York : D. Appleton & Co. 1859. 12mo. pp. 277.

INDEX

TO TBB

EIGHTY -EIGHTH VOLUME

OP THE

Abtlard, Article on, ld3«->his parentage,
1S7 -^ his appeomneo as a chftmpkn) of
Die XotnimilisU, 189 ^hi« tuoceii «a s
teActier^ 110 ^ bis surpasuDC llinie, 142
— bi« connection with HefoiBc, 144 —
hiB retreat to tho &bb«y of St, Dcnisj
14tf — con iJera nation of' his writings by
the Council ofSoi&soiiB, 147 — hia estub-
liflhraent cf the oratory of the Paraclete,
140 — his renewed fame^ l&O^ contract
between hioi and Bernard^ i&. — his htsotd-
uhip of the abbey of St, tfilda* de Ruys,
151 — his renewed oorrespondcnce with
HeloisOi I5S — hU faith and writings im-
pugned by B<?rnard, 166 — his arraign-
ment before the Council of Scn»| 166 —
his appeal to Rome, 168 — his condem-
nation there, 159 — hia death J WO — his
diameter, 161 — his industrv^ 162 — his
style, 163 — his position an^ iuduence,
tis portrayed by Cousin, 166.

AhiotuU religion, defined, 373 — distin-
gnished from natoralism, pftntheistn, and
mysticism, 874,

AfttmooH of Uiinuuried Llfe^ The, noticed,
647,

AlAtr^ character of his reign, 291,

Aldrk'h, Thonms B., his Poems, notiood, 569.

Alexander, Jame* W., hh Dlseooms on
Common Topics of Christian Faitli and
Praotice, noticed, 374.

AMihont, S, Aastin, his Dictionary of Kng*
lifth Literature, noticed, 664.

Anwry^ Thomas C, his Life of James Sul-
livan, reviewed, 443 — his impiutiiiiity,
444, 468.

Angier, Etnile, his Xes Lkmmu Powres,
reviewed, 213 — quoted, 213.

Aragp^ Fran4?ols, his Biogmphies of Dtstin-
gnished Scientific Men, noticed, 575.

JrcAs/ecffeiTS, article on ancient, $41 —
cbaraoteroT the Egyptian, 342 — of the
Assyrian, 844 —ol the Grecian, 34T.

Arutoth^i Politics, maxims quoted from,
421».

Amutfl, Samuel Grvene, hts History of
Rhode Ishuid| noticed^ 577.

AuQuMm the Strong, Elector of Saxony and
Kitig of Poland, visited by Frederick Wil-
liam of Pmssia, 627 — bis tUb charaot«r,
it* — returns the visit, 628 ^~ his catnp at
Badewitx, 63h

BarbarOy Charles, his VAimsmnat du Pant
Rougt^ reviewed, 215 — sketch of the
stor)% 216.

Barth\ Henry, his Travels and Discoveriea
in Nortli and Central Africa, noticed, 669.

Bihk^ article on the revision of the Eng*
li*h, 1S4 — the standard Enriish, why
pre-eminent, 186 — habits of interpret-
mg it on the part of ministers, 102 -^ ita
imperfections, 100 — how to l>e revised,
203 tt HQ,

Black's Atlas of Korth America, notioed,
271.

BfihringfT^ Friedrich, his Life of Abelard,
reviewed, 132.

BoiUm, Kuglruid, Thompson's History of,
reviewed, 166 — its eariiest traditions,
\m — its churches, 171 — its old houses,
175 — its records, 176 — its prnvindal-
isms, 177— ft! diatiiigiiished residents,
US'— its distinguisbea emigrants, 17& —
its viciriitv, 1^3.

Botolpk, StJ, church of, 170 — traditioni
conceminfi;, 178.

BowtUtcL K L^ liis Suffblk Surnames,
noticed, 276.

Bnifi^entrurff, early history of, 504.

BrtictUTt Charles W., his Rambles about
Portsmouth, noticed, 566.

Brooke, Lord, his Life of Philip Sidney,
reviewed, 312 — his character and peV>
sonal history, 814.

BuUinch, hie Age of ChiYah^% noticed. 276.

BuUer** What will be do' with it ? no-
ticed, 548.

Burkty Edmund, article on, 61 — bis ances-
try and birth, 64 — his early life, 65 —
his first appearance as an author, 67 —
hia marriage and his wife's character,
68 — his eonnecMou with William Ge-
rard Hamilton, 70^ his nipttins with

586

INDEX,

Hamilton, 71 — his eDtrance into Parlia-
ment, 72 ~ his pnrchase of an estate, 74
— his action with reference to Wilkes,
76 — his course as to American affairs,
78 — his speech on financial reform, 87 —
his office under the Shelbnme ministry,
91 — under the coalition ministry. 97 —
his part in the impeachment of Warren
Hastings, 102 — his rupture with Fox,
106 — his illness and death, 108 — growth
of his reputation since his death, 110 —
valne of his writings. 111.
Bushnellf Horace, his Nature and the Su-
pernatural, noticed, 270 — reviewed, 367
Ills theory of the supernatural, 870 — his
view of the nature of tlie evil principle,
380 — his discussion of sin, 381 — his
chapter on .Tesus, 383 — his belief in
modem miracles, 384.

Cambridge Prize Poems, noticed, 552.

Carhjle, Thomas, his Frederick the Great,
reviewed, 603.

Chalkn, James, his Christian Morals, no-
ticed, 674.

Christian theory of the universe, 368.

Compurf/ation^ Canonical, article on, 1 —
origin of the custom, 6 — striking in-
stances of it, 9 — variations in it, 11 —
its decline, 16.

CottOHt John, chapel to his memory iu Bos-
ton, England, 171 — inscription on the
tablet iu it, 172 — sketch of his life, 179.

Cowin, quoted as to Abelard*s character,
65.

CroghiK Xathan, his American Obituary for
1857, noticed, 670.

Curtif, Herbert Pelham, his translation of
Arabian Days* Entertainments, noticed,
281.

C^clnpftiVia^ tlio New American, noticed,
281.

Dana^ Charles A., his Household Book of
Poetry, noticed, 276.

Davy, Sir Humphry, his Fragments, Life,
and Correspondence, noticed, 654.

De Quinceyy 1 homas, article on his Life and
Writing:*, 113 — circumstances of his
chiUlhooil, 114 — death of his sisters,
115 — his quarrel with his guardians,
122 — his opium experiences, 123 — cir-
cumstances under wuich he commenced
the use of opium, 126 — characteristics
of his writings, 128 — his peculiarities as
a biographer, 130 — his ground as a mor-
alist, 131 — ins humor, *6. — his person
and personal habits, 132.

Difgon, (1. L., his Crescent and French
Cnwades, noticed, 661.

Dafferin, Lord, his Yacht Vovagc, no-
ticed, 262.

EWcoH, C. J., his Commentaries on the
New Testament, reviewed, 184.

KUiott^ Sir Henry M., his Index to the
Historian."* of India, reviewed, 289 — his
worth and services, 294, mrfe.

EuarU, Alfred des, hii Fran^dt MitUcis.

noticed, S68.
Evam, F. W., his Shaken, noticed, G60.
European Life, Legend, and Landscape.

noticed, 672.

Ferffusmm, James, his Uliistmted Hand-

Book of Architecture, reviewed, 841.
Ftydtau, Ernest, his Fanmf, reviewed, 214

— its yileoess, 216.

Francia^ his dictatorship of raragnay,
437 — destmctbn of his monument,
438.

Frederick L, of Prussia, his character, S09

— his coronation, 610.

Frederick the Great, of Prussia, his earliest
attendants and tutors, 616 — his father's

Elan for his education, 617 — maltreated
y his father, 620 — his clandestine
tastes and studies, 629 — his plan of
flight, 630 — his arrest, 636 — sentenced
to death, 637 — his reprieve, 639 — his
marriage, 640 — his residence at Reins-
berg, 642 — his correspondence, 644 —
his father's death, 646.

Frederick William. Elector of Branden-
burg, the Great, nis wariness and dex-
terity, 606 — his battle of Fehrbellin,
606 — his true wife, Louisa of Orange-
Nassau, 607 — his second wife, Doro-
thea. 608.

Frederick William, King of Prussia, his
father's deatli, 610 — his avarice, 611 —
his eccentricities, 612 — his siege of
Stralsund, 613 — visited bv Peter the
Grcat,614 — his hatred of liis son, 620,
533 — his giant regiment, 622 — his To-
bacco Parliament, 623 — his vi*it lo
Dresden, 627 — his death, 646.

GaZ/ttna, Prince, article on, 349 — bit
parentage, 360 — infidel opinions of bi^
parents, 351 — his mother's and his con-
version, 863 — his voyage to the United
States, 366 — his adnaission to the priest-
hood, 366 — his settlement at Loretto,
357 — his sacrifices, 360 — his friendly
relations with the King of Holland, 36*1

— his literary works, 363 — his patriot-
ism, 364 — his death, 366 — his monu-
ment, 366.

Gauiitr, Theophile, his Italia^ reviewer!,
217 — his account of his arrival at
Venice bv nig^t, quoted, 218 — his Z/i
J/*>f/<, reviewed, 220 — quoted as to the
antique, 222 — as to crinoline, 223.

GavoLzi, Alessandro, his Recollections oi
the Last Four Popes, noticed, 648.

GtrrimUj G. G., his Introduction to the
History of the Nineteenth Century, re-
viewed, 387 — his charactcrizatibn of
Rousseau, 408 — his statement of the
pervading spirit of the Puritan colonists
m North America. 421.

Gieseler, John C. L., Smith's edition of
his Church Histor}', noticed, 272.

Gt^vernment, its chan^ of form by fixed
laws, 389 — traced in Greece, 392 — in

INDBX.

587

Borne, 898 — in Italy, 896 — in Gennany,
401 — in France, 406 — in Spain, 411 —
in Portu^, 412 — in Switzerland, 418
— in the l^etherlanda, 414 — in England.
416 " in Russia, 419 — in the tlnited
States, 420.

namayun, his character and the transac-
tions of his reign, 294.

flew/en, Thomas, his Discourse on Prince
Gallitzin, reviewed, 849.

Boadly, Charles Y., his Records of New
Haven, noticed, 662.

JSforey, Alvah, his Memoir of Backus, no-
ticed, 277.

Burd, John Codman, his Law of Freedom
and Bondage in the United States, no-
ticed, 279.

India^ article on, 289 — despotism of its
native government, 290 — irregularity of
accession to the throne, 291 — enervating
influences on the monarch, 298 — condi-
tion of the country under British rule, 808.

Istria, Countess Dora d\ her work on Ger-
man Switzerland, reviewed, 476 — plan
and execution of the work, 477 et §eq.

KemMe, Frances Anne, her Poems, noticed,

668.
KingtUy^ Charles, his Miscellanies, noticed,

268.
KnigkUMy William, bis Private Life of an

Eastern King, reviewed, 289 — quoted,

299.
KOnigtwatitr, Louis J., his Etudes Hitto-

riques, reviewed, 1.

Lais^loHj Albert, his Poems, noticed, 670.
La rlata^ the River, when oiscovered. 482.
Lonafdlow. Henry Wadsworth, his Court-
ship of Miles Standish, noticed, 276.

Macknight, Thomas^ his Life of Burke, re-
viewed, 61 — criticised, 62.

MarnUer, H., his Lts Fiances du SpUdterg^
noticeo, 669.

Matsabky^ Princess Koltzoff, her learning
and ability, 476.

Mattey, William, his History of England,
noticed, 268.

i/oMOft, David, his Life of John Milton, no-
ticed, 676.

Merlonis and Bankers* Register for 1869,
noticed, 677.

Merruau^ Paul, his VEgypU Omten^fo-
raine, noticed, 266.

Mntum, Robert B., his From New York to
Delhi, noticed, 278.

Miracles as discussed by Bushnell, 888.

Montegui, Emile, his Essais Morales et IRs-
toriquet, reviewed, 226 — quoted, 226, 227.

Montez^ Lola, her Lectures, noticed, 266.

Mount Vernon Association, its lims, 66 —
how they may be carried out with the
purest taste, 60.

NesUnians, the, their antiquity, 232 —their

condition as to faith, rites, morals, and
manners, 288.

New England^ magnitude of its history, 464
— its settlers unduly censured for their
intolerance of dissenters, 467.

New Priest in Conception Bay, noticed, 671.

Nourrisson, his Le Cardinal de BeruUe, no-
ticed, 264«

Olive, the, and the Pine, noticed, 274.

Osborn, Henry S., his Palestine Past and
Present, noticed, 678.

O'SulUvan, John, his emigration from Ire-
land, 446 — his marriage, 447 — his old
age, 448.

Oudej condition of, before its annexation to
the Indo-British empire, 299.

Owen, Richard, his Lecture in behalf of the
Mount Vernon Association, reviewed, 62.

Page, Thomas J., his Narrative of Explo-
ration, reviewed, 480 — character of the
work, 481 — specimens of its grapUc
power, 441.

Palfrey, John Gorham, his History of New
England, reviewed, 460 — compeared and
contrasted with Prescott, 462 — his qual-
ities as an historian, 468 — synopsis of his
first volume, 471— its general character,
472.

Pantheism, how distinguished from atheism,
869 — how affected by the geological ar-
gument for a Creator apart from his
works, 872.

Paraguay, Jesuit missions in, 486 — its
poUtical historvj 487.

Peter the Great^ his visit to Frederick Wil-
liam of Prussia, 614.

Political devek>pment in civil history, pri-
mary law of, 887 et $eq.

Porter, Whitworth, his History of the
Knights of Malta, noticed, 668.

PrescotCs rank as an historian, 461.

Procter, Adelaide Anne, her Legends and
L^ics, noticed, 266.

Puritanism inseparably connected with
principles of civil freedom, 466.

Remusat, Charles de, his Abelard, reviewed,

188.
RobfTtson, Frederick W., his Lectures and

Addresses, noticed, 661.
Rustic Rhymes, noticed, 668.

Sabbath Bymn-Book, noticed, 266.

Sala, George Augustus, his Journey Due
North, noticed, 266.

Sand, George, her VBomme de Ntige, no-
ticed, 668.

Sanford, John Langton, his Great Rebel-
lion, noticed, 260.

Sctwyer, Leicester Ambrose, his New Testa-
ment, noticed, 269.

Schaff, Philip, his History of the Christian
Church, noticed, 272.

Scholejiela, James, his Hints for Improve-
ments in the Authorized Version of the
New Testament, reviewed, 184.

588

INDBX.

Scouring of the White Hone, noticed, 650.

Semper, Gotfried, his Essays on Architec-
ture, reviewed, 841.

Shakespeare, see White.

Sidney. Sir Phiiip, article on, 812 — b»
family, 816 — his early training, 817 —
his European tour, 818 — his diplomatic
appointment at the court of the German
Emperor, 821 — his first appearance as an
author. 822 — his defence of his father,
823 — nis letter to Elizabeth on her pro-
posed French marriage, tft. — his quarrel
with the Earl of Oxford, 826— his Coun-
tess of Pembroke's Arcadia, 826 — his
service in the House of Commons, 829 —
his amour with Lady Rich, ib. — his son-
net, 830— his Defence of Poesj, 881 —
his marriage. 882 — his admission to
knighthood, to. —his defence of the Earl
of Leicester, 833 — his attempt to embark
for America, ib. — his military commis-
sion for the Netherlands, 884 — his fa-
tal wound, 836 — his last days and
death, 836 — estimate of his character,
337.

Sigournev, L. H., her DaUy Counsellor, no-
ticed, 277.

Sin, nature and oriein of, 879.

Sleeman, W. H., his Journey through the
Kingdom of Oude, reviewed, 289 — quot-
ed, 800 et $eq,

Sprague, William B., his Annals of the
American Pulpit, noticed, 267.

Stoddard, David Tappan, article on, 228 —
his ancestry, ib. — his education, 229 —
his mathematical and mechanical taste
and proficiency, 230 — his commence-
ment of clerical studies, 281 — Ids self-
consecration to the Ncstorian mission,
233 — his voyage, 284 — his description
of the region of Oroomiah^ 284 — his suc-
cess OS a preacher of Christianity, 237 —
his illness, bereavement, and return to
America, 230 — his return to tlie mis-
sion, 240 — his eminent services, f6. —
his death, 241.

Sfoir, Baron, his Cliristian Brotherhood, no-
ticed, 672.

Struggles of the Early Cliristians, noticed,
281.

Sidlivnn, James, his Life, by Amory, re-
viewed, 443 — \m extraction and parent-
age, 446 — his boyhoodj 449 — nis en-
trance on the Icgnl profession, 460 — upon
political life, 451 — his services in the
rrovincial Congress and Assembly, 452
— his legal empluymentM and practice in
Boston, 453 — liis' various offices, 455 —
hU party position, 450.

SuUivan, John, notices of his life, 449, 451,

462.
Syfiizerhnd, article on, 476 — Its histori-

Kt to be written, 479 — its races, 4H3 -^
languages, 484 — its democracy, 4>>5

— its superstitions, 488 — its part 'in tlie
Reformation, 498 — its services to educa-
tion, 496 — its maireb of engineerine
science, 497 — its art, 498 — its poetr\',
499 — iU flctitkms literature, 500 — in
music, 601.

Tayhr, Nathaniel W., his Practical Ser-
mons, noticed, 274.

Thompson^ Joseph P., his Memoir of Stod-
dard, reviewed, 228 — its merits, 243.

Thompson, Pishey, his History and Antiqui-
ties of Boston reviewed, 166 — thorough-
ness of the work, 167 — its mechanical
execution, 168.

Thomson. W. M., his Biblical Illustration*,
noticed, 674.

T%mghts about Women, A Woman*s, 255.

Trench, Richard Chenevix, on the Author-
ized Version of the Bible, reviewed, 184.

Tucker, George, his Histoiy of the United
States, noticed, 280.

l^rquiza, his merits and services, 489.

Vapereau, G., his Dietionnaire Umcerseldts
Omtemporains, noticed, 656.

Wager of Battle, distinguished from the
duel, 23 — its origin in Northern Europe.
25 — practised among the Sclavonic na-
tions, 29 — opposed by the Churoh, 32 —
descriptions or persons authorized tu figlic
by champion. 86 — restrictions upon ir,
87 — more enlightened views with regard
to it, 40 — last instance of it in France,
42 — in England, 44 — its ceremoniett, 45

— its champions, how qualified, and un-
der what restrictions employed, 46.

Waidand, Fzancis, his Sermons to the
Churches, noticed, 269.

White, Richard Grant, his edition of Shake-
speare, reviewed, 244 — its text, 250 —
its critical matter, 251 — its author's
adaptation for his work, 252.

T(7//ar(/, Joseph, his Willard Memoir, no-
ticed, 261.

miiiams. Roger, grounds of his banishment,
469 — his character, 470.

Milton, Robert Anderson, his History of the
Conquest of Mexico, noticed, 576.'

Tl^nUr, William, his Poems, noticed, 569.

Worcester, Joseph E., his Dictionary of the
English Language, noticed, 566.

Stanford University Libraries
Stanf ordy California

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